A/N: This chapter is short and it was inspired by game of thrones, all the sources and book recommendations everyone gave me, thanks Vader's mistress, Mimi dubois, Ladyjaxs999, Couture212 and everyone else who's also been contributing with your reviews.

I still can't get over what happened yesterday in game of thrones but it gave me ideas for next chapters.

1465-1468

"You look radiant today my lady."

"Radiant, is that so?"

Mary nodded, as a well-trained actress she smiled and continued to smile as the Duchess Dowager ordered her to walk with her. She could have told her no, but, the Duchess Dowager was her mother in law and as Mary had told her last time, she did intend to befriend and win the woman over. If only she could change her mind and the Nevilles' mind, history would not have to repeat itself.

"You are a musical girl aren't you?"

"A better dancer than a singer I am afraid."

"Do you know the story of the dynasty before the Angevins?" Asked the Duchess Dowager casually.

Mary did, very well in fact. It was a story that her father never tired in telling his children over and over again, "Not as well as you do I am sure," she said however.

"House Godwin was a powerful family, the second most powerful ruling family in Europe in fact. Aren't the Woodvilles now the second most powerful family in England?"

Mary shrugged. She guessed so, she looked at the Duchess Dowager but her face betrayed nothing.

"But you know second climbers don't want to stop at the second highest run, if only you could take that final step you could see further than all the rest. So king Harold assembled a large army, the largest army everyone had ever seen. He began growing paranoid to have his power contested until one day, the Normans invaded and do you know where house Godwin is now?"

"Gone." Was all Mary said feeling bile rise up in her throat, knowing the threat that was to come, she could tell just by looking at the older woman's face.

"Gone, such a gentle word. Slaughtered." The Duchess Dowager corrected. "Every man, woman, and child put to the sword. I remember my lord husband telling me the story. Daggers plunged into men's bellies, children, no mercy, no sympathy, babies, bastards and not, born on the right side of the blanket, it didn't matter. They were smothered in their cribs while sleeping."

After a long silence that the Duchess Dowager let hang in the air while both women continued smiling at each other, she said "You are a bright girl, a beautiful girl, very ambitious." She grinned "A word of advise: Don't get in my way."

"I am not your enemy lady Cecily." Mary said in earnest.

The Duchess Dowager said nothing and walked away with her ladies following her, leaving Mary and her ladies all alone with a sense of dread.

"Say mama."

"She is not going to say mama anytime soon." Jacquetta said, smiling at her poor attempt to get the baby to talk. It was very hard to watch the scene without laughing. Jacquetta and the rest sniggered as Mary attempted once more but the child remained stubborn with her mouth close.

Elizabeth was pregnant again and she was hoping this time it would be a son but the king was in no hurry, he said it will be what god willed. But Elizabeth was in a hurry, all the Woodvilles were. They had tested their luck when their sister had ensnared the Yorkist king and now their lives depended on it. If she didn't give the king a son soon, the Nevilles and the Lancasters forces would turn against them. Jacquetta had seen it, the self-proclaimed sorceress, in a dream. She was even more desperate than her eldest child but she didn't show it.

Part of Elizabeth's fears though had waned thanks to Mary's son and her husband's support of her marriage. He as Edward was in the same boat with a commoner wife no one wanted and someone everyone in his court was against. Like Elizabeth it was imperative she had more children, namely sons.

The years passed them by and Elizabeth kept producing more children, all girls. Her litter of witches as Margaret Beaufort called them when her husband, the turncoat, Henry Stafford was out of earshot. And that other witch, the one the Woodvilles had put in His Grace's path to ensnare his brother, the Duke of Rutland, Mary Hill, kept producing more children as well, all girls.

It was a sign. God had smiled on them only once. The suns of York were setting, this was the time to attack, the time for Lancaster to rise again.

Warwick looked at his two daughters as they sat next to the king's youngest brothers, Richard and George. The youngest did not want to get involved in politics, he was a soldier, nothing more. Useless, Warwick thought, but the youngest. Ah, there was the key.

The deposed king, Henry of Lancaster had been captured in Lancashire three years earlier and sent to the Tower of London where he was being reasonably treated. Warwick considered freeing he deposed king from his prison and forming an alliance with the she-wolf of Anjou by marrying their son to one of his daughters but after hearing how unreasonable the queen and her son were becoming, he thought against it.

His wife followed his gaze, there was no smile on her face but there was a glee on her eyes as she knew what he was thinking and she couldn't agree more.