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In this light, Edward and Anne barely seem what they looked to each other the first time they met.In this light, Anne does not seem the terrified child that was so reluctant to leave her father’s side to curtsey before the Queen and the Prince of Wales.In this light, Edward does not seem the monster of the stories the now Princess of Wales had heard over and over before she was married to him.What they seem, in this light; as she waits for him, decked in furs and seriousness in her countenance, and he looks up at her from his writing desk, eyes resembling those of a lost puppy; is two lone people.Probably the two loneliest people in the world.They simply stay there, not knowing how to approach each other.Until he finally stands up.She does not flinch or step back when he approaches her. They have not been…intimate. Not yet. More out of his wishes to respect her than of any political rumour.(He would never get rid of her. He could never get rid of her. He did not want to get rid of her. Not in his life.)After all, even if she did not grow to love him as a wife, (There’s always the ghost of Gloucester looming over them.) perhaps she would think of him as a friend?He is tender when he takes her hand and kisses it. Quite tender for a man who is supposed to feast on the guts of children and delight in the idea of slaughtering every York supporter in the cruelest way possible.(She could not believe her thoughts. But he had proved that he was not that bad. Not that cruel.)Perhaps, one day, she could brush away all suspicions. Perhaps, one day, she could even grow to love him. As a friend, or even maybe as a wife, she does not know yet.“Milady, would you like to go out for a walk with me?” he offers his hand.What Anne knows, is that this is a start,Taking his hand, she finally speaks.“I would be very much pleased.”