~The Death of Kings~

The Tower of London....

Their bodies moved together on the bed with the grace of water, a gentle dance known only to them, twisting their limbs lovingly around one another, hands tangled in hair or clasped in love. Each time their lips met, they were sent deeper into their world of sensual ecstasy, oblivious to all around but each other's touch.

Their clothes lay strewn around the chamber and the bed curtains were pulled hastily shut, encasing the Duke and Duchess in a world of their own.

Catherine sat in Richard's lap, slowly rocking her hips against his while their foreheads pressed together, eyes closed in bliss. His fingers danced across the soft skin of her back and hers clasped the soft curls of his hair, tugging on them each time the white flash of pleasure blinded her to all the world. While she rode him, he also thrust his hips upwards, unable to resist with the beautiful sight she presented above him and her warmth reducing him to soft moans.

She could take him apart and he could do the same, with gentle, fleeting kisses he brushed across her neck and chest until she moaned a quiet plea for him to do more. They were each putty in the other's hands and relished their sweet power.

"Richard...." Catherine cried when he spilled inside her, slipping his hand between their bodies to help her follow. She needed little coaxing and cried out a second time when liquid fire shot between her legs, her body convulsing, her mind swimming. Richard threw his head back against the pillows and she slid from his lap, staring dreamily up at the canopy of their bed while one of her lover's hands found hers.

"If we do not have another child soon it shan't be our fault" He gasped, clearly out of breath with his chest rising and falling at an almost alarming rate. His remark made Catherine smile and she pushed her hair away from her face, letting the fingers of her free hand dance across the flat expanse of her stomach, remembering what it had felt like when it was rounded.

The small kicks, the little hands pressing against her, the hours she had spent cradling her swelled belly with Duchess Cecily by her side reciting prayer after prayer. And then, the joy when she'd finally been able to hold her son in her arms. She sighed, snuggling contently into Richard's side with the wish they had conceived that night.

"It would be my greatest joy to give you another son" She said and a smile tugged at his lips; breaths slowly evening to normal.
"Or a daughter" He replied, twisting locks of her soft hair absentmindedly around his fingers "I think Henry would like a little sister"
"I think Henry would like anything!"

He chuckled at that, nodding his agreement, their Henry was a merry little child and they believed that sister or brother, he would be content and, of course, their greatest protecter, apart from perhaps Roland who still resided at Fotheringhay! They would return to him soon. Catherine sighed again, drawing delicate patterns over Richard's chest with one hand while she made to draw up the covers around them but as soon as she did, his fingers gently curled around her wrist.

Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her knuckles, lovingly, reverently, before pressing another to her lips and making to rise from the bed. Confusion pulled at the corners of Catherine's lips, tugging them down into a little frown that followed her husband as he began to tug his clothes on.

"Where are you going at this godforsaken hour?"

He avoided her eyes, lifting his shirt over his head and wincing when he moved his injured arm too quickly.
"I need some air, ma belle"
"You always refuse to look at me when you lie"

Still, he didn't let their eyes meet, despite forcing a wry smile to appear on his face as he laced his boots.
"I'll be back soon" He simply murmured, tugging on the long cords until the leather was firmly moulded to his legs and he wandered back over to the bed. Catherine peered up at him trying to capture his gaze when he bent down and brushed his lips against her forehead, offering no other means of explanation.

"Dickon...."
He paused at the door, one hand on the ancient wood, the other pulling it slowly open as if to avoid even a whisper of a creak. To slip away unnoticed, to keep his departure hidden like a secret. What cause would he have to do such a thing?

"I'll be back soon, Cate" He repeated and slipped away into the torchlit corridors, his figure fading before disappearing from sight as the door closed behind him. Catherine was left alone with her thoughts, with a pounding heart and the distant crackle of charred wood smoking in the hearth.

Though warmth emanated from the dancing flames that turned the tapestries on the wall to moving pictures, she felt a chill run through her body and reached for her discarded shift, pulling it over her head. 'I'll be back soon' Richard had told her twice but how long he was away did not bother her, it was what he was away to do that did.

He'd lied to her, of that she was certain, and in itself proved shocking. He never lied to her and she never lied to him and the one could always tell when the other did. Their lies were glass to their eyes and moments ago that had again been proven true. Richard was not going to take some air for (not only was that not his habit) but when he truly did, he always invited her along with him!

He never willingly separated her from his side and that made the intrigue growing within her hum with dread. He could have only left her alone to do something, go somewhere she would not approve....and then, it hit her. Like a slap in the face or a dagger to the dealer, driving deep into her flesh and eliciting a sharp gasp that filled the air.

The day of destiny she had long suspected would come was finally upon her, upon them. The day she'd dreaded had arrived and she suddenly left her bed, discarding the warmth of the covers to pad across the bedchamber to the oaken door her husband had shut just minutes ago. For that night was the night a King would die. A Lancastrian King.

The death of Kings were tales told to children from the crib to their wedding day and then to their own children. From cradle to grave. Stories of revenge, of slaughter echoed through the ages like songs until each soul knew well the death of Kings, how some were murdered by their sons, some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed....it was never ending. And those were the tales, the age old ballads that whirled through Catherine's head as she slipped into the stone passages of the Tower with only torches to guide her way.

Her bare feet padded along the floor, each icy step a reminder of what she treaded towards, of what she feared she treaded towards.

The fortress was eerily silent around her and she realised with a pang there was not a guard in sight, not one leaning sleepily on their pike in an alcove, not a pair dealing cards, trading coins. It seemed the Tower itself was holding its breath, waiting for the death of another soul within its impenetrable walls.

Catherine made her way through the building, following the flickering amber glow of the torches until she heard voices, booted steps upon stone. Three pairs making their way towards her. Glancing quickly around, she tucked her lithe body behind a pillar and sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment.

She couldn't bare to peer around the stone because she knew what she would find. She knew those steps, she knew the hushed voices that echoed through the night air. The three sons of York were but a breath away but she did not want to see them, she did not want to confirm the fears of her mind.

The rattle of keys forced her eyes to open once more and she made herself look around the pillar, her figure kept secret in the surrounding darkness. Edward, George and Richard stood together, dressed in loose shirts and breeches with their boots on their feet; lanterns in the eldest's hand.

"You know what we must do" He whispered and his younger brothers nodded, the rattle of keys sounding once more as George thrust one into the iron lock nailed to the great door beside them. Looking back to Edward with a nod, he twisted it but did not throw the door open, he pushed it open slowly, silently before he and his brothers slipped inside the chamber.

'Don't....' Catherine silently prayed as she watched Richard follow his kin but he went all the same, not once looking back just as he'd done in their chambers. The door shut just as silently as it opened and her feet began to move of their own volition, taking her forward until she stood before the entrance to what she knew to be Henry's chamber.

Reaching up, her fingers curled around the iron latch holding the small window in the door shut and pulled it open. A room was revealed to her, candlelit and filled by only a bed, an old man and the three sons of York who stood ominously above him, looking down on his sleeping form like Gods of death. With the stealth of a cat, Edward reached for a pillow beside the King's head, lifting it and looking back to his brothers once more.

They both nodded.

Catherine shook her head, clasping her hands over her mouth to stifle a cry as Edward moved over the sleeping old man. He was an anointed King, a man chosen by God who looked almost like a child in his slumber, he could not be killed, he could not be murdered.....

Edward descended like a bird of prey, trained muscles working beneath his shirt as he pressed the pillow over Henry's face, holding it fast over his nose and mouth. Instantly the old body beneath the covers began to flail, arms flailing, legs kicking, trying to push away his unknown assailant. Richard moved to the bed, pushing his weight down and holding Henry's legs to the mattress while Edward looked up to the ceiling, seemingly praying for something. A quick death for the man beneath him?

Ice flooded through the woman watching as images of the night she was kidnapped flashed through her mind, of foreign hands grasping her body, of fear, of her lungs burning as she tried to gasp for air. Her breaths came in short, sharp bursts as if she was the one being held down and smothered as if she was the one having the life pressed from her body.

She desperately wanted to look away from the horrific sight, to tear her eyes away but she could not; a part within her forcing her to stay. 'Watch' a small voice told her 'let him know he is not alone in death' and she knew it was right, it could only be right for her to remain.

All too soon his flailing limbs stilled, all too soon Edward was able to relax his grip as the weak resistance that fought him failed.

Instead of a King struggling beneath him there was now only a corpse, a pale, lifeless corpse with bloodshot eyes that stared upward in terror as the pillow was taken away from his face. But he did not blink, he did not move and his fearful expression remained until the sons of York averted their gaze; almost ashamed.

'They should be ashamed' Catherine thought as she began to back away from the door, her eyes swimming with horror at what she had just witnessed 'murdering an old man in his bed...' The brother's voices disturbed her and she was swayed to make a quick retreat behind her pillar again, pressing her trembling body against it in the hope of finding some relief.

She found none.
Henry's flailing body filled her mind, his muffled cries echoed in her ears, ever dwindling; fearful....

"Now we have cut the head off the snake" She heard Edward murmur "we must do away with the nest" Her eyes snapped open at that and fear stabbed at her heart, making her glance around her pillar once again. The brothers were huddled together and made no move to separate, turning in unison and striding back the way they had approached.

They made their way to a barred door at the end of the hallway, lit only by torches that did not flicker, did not move, as if their flames were corpses themselves. It was into this realm of death the Yorks strode and George once more produced a key, one of silver that flashed dangerously when he thrust it into the its lock.

They were going to kill again, Catherine realised with wide eyes and as they disappeared inside, she all but ran after them as a thought of horror filled her.
Queen Marguerite!

It was one thing to kill an anointed King, a frail old man, but an anointed Queen too, she thought, trying not to make a sound in her haste. While Queen Marguerite would never truly be defenceless, she was without a weapon to hand that night and even though Catherine stood by and watched her husband die, she would not do the same for Marguerite.

Again, she reached the cell door, again her hand reached for its small window, silently pulling it open but she felt repetition fail her when her eyes descended on the room. On the bed.

For lying beneath the covers, sleeping as sweetly as the angel she had always thought him to be, dark curls spread out on the pillow, was Prince Edward. Her Prince Edward.

A shuddering gasp escaped her lips, lips that were swiftly covered with a hand to conceal any noise. She shook her head. Once. Twice. Again. She blinked, quickly, not believing what her eyes told her she saw. It must be a hallucination, a trick of the light, a dream...

She pinched herself and jumped slightly from the pain but the vision did not change, she was still in the Tower, stood before the cell holding the Lancastrian Prince of Wales and the York brothers.

'Oh God' She suddenly thought and forced her mind to return to the present only to see George and Richard stood at the foot of the Prince's bed, Edward standing over the boy with a pillow in hand, just as he'd done moments ago with his addled Father. Her heart stuttered, sending boiling blood coursing through her veins, it's erratic beat rushing through her ears.

The King descended again, pressing his feathered weapon over the Prince's face, wrenching the life from his body. Again, the victim struggled but Prince Edward was a boy trained for war, not an old man, something his cousin seemed to have forgotten and he was suddenly pushed back with a yell.

The Prince's eyes were filled with fear, the blue turned brighter with the feeling but also the sheer will to survive, the determination to live. It would not be taken from him, not easily. Immediately George and Richard pounced, like lions with claws primed for the kill, running down either side of the bed and taking the boy's arms, holding him down while Edward approached again.

No. No. No. No!

Catherine shook her head again, watching with horror as he struggled, began to cry out....

"No....you will not...." He yelled "...Catherine!"

His voice called to her through the mist that filled her mind, breaking her from her trance, snapping her to a terrified attention. He had called for her.

After all this time....

"No!" A blood curdling scream tore from her throat and she threw open the door, not thinking that she might bring guards running, or that she would bring the wrath of the York brothers upon her. All she saw, all she knew was her Edward and the strength that filled her body as she ran to the bed and shoved her York kin away, almost striking them before she threw her body across the Prince's.

Tears, hot and stinging filled her eyes as she felt the warmth of Edward's living body press through her nightgown, his fingers instantly find hers, clasping their hands together. Trusting, loving. She stared around at the three man facing her, disbelief coating their features as they stared.

A traitor. A brother. A husband.

"No!" She told them, shaking her head again while two heavy tears rolled down her pale cheeks "You will not do this....I will not let you do this"
"Get out of the way, Catherine" Edward snarled through gritted teeth, trying to appear firm but it was clear as day her arrival had shaken him. It had shaken all of them "I order you to...."

"No" She replied, squeezing the hand in hers "No. Edward. I do not care if you are King. You can order me all you please, your grace but if you want to kill him you will have to kill me first" His eyes widened and glanced at the boy behind her who was obviously wearing a rather smug expression from the way his face suddenly twisted with anger.

"Cate...." Richard's voice began, gentle and coaxing but she halted him with the same firm resolve she had given to his brother.
"Do not try. Do not even try. I will not move"
"If you do not I will have you dragged from this room" Edward replied lowly.

"Touch her and I swear to God it will be you who dies this night, not me"
It was the first time Prince Edward had spoken and he did so with the same fierce determination the woman protecting him had spied just moments before. He was bold, just like her, and she squeezed his hand again only to jump slightly as Richard jolted forward; pulled back by George.

"You have no right, no right, to speak about my wife in that way, you bastard"
The boy's eyes flashed to his.
"Oh shut up. You have no place with her, you never have"

Richard's jaw clenched with fury and he tried to break free from George's grip with such force it took both of his brothers to keep him at bay.
"He must die" Edward announced over his shoulder "You know it Catherine, he knows it too" She shook her head, tears continuing to stream down her face when her Prince's voice filled the air again.

"I know I must"

For the first time, she turned to him, for the first time in eleven years she saw his face clearly, still holding a resemblance to the boy she'd known, she'd loved, but a man was before her all the same.

"Don't say that" She whispered, cupping his face in a movement that was as natural as it was unexpected to her "Don't say that...." His hands gently came to rest atop hers and a wry smile crossed his lips, a smile so like his Father's that a sob threatened to break from her throat.

"C'est inévitable, mon amour le plus doux" (It is inevitable, my sweetest love) He told her plainly, not one shred of fear to his voice which was even, calm. Again, she shook her head "But I will not die at the hands of a York...."

"She is a York" Richard hissed from behind but Edward only rolled his eyes, glaring at the young Duke.

"Believe that if you will" He spat "but Catherine will always true to Lancaster in her heart. Always. And if I am to die I will die at Lancastrian hands" He took hers away from his face, gently squeezing when he gazed into her eyes "hands of my own" She could not help the soft smile that appeared on her face and he smiled too, albeit rather sadly this time "You were always meant to be my Queen, Catherine, always and I'm sorry you couldn't be....I love you"

Without waiting for her reply, he suddenly darted forward, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that Catherine heard Richard nearly explode at, shouting every curse he knew in the Prince's direction. His lips were warm against hers, soft, almost innocent, and she felt herself gently kiss him back for a moment. Like when she had cradled his face, it was something that she did not expect but was natural to her, so natural....

He pulled away as quickly as he'd leant forward, gently wiping away the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs "Je devais le faire" (I had to do that) He told her in a secret whisper meant for only the two of them to hear "Au moins une fois..." (At least once)

Hearing footsteps approach the bed again, Catherine turned, shielding Edward's body with her own only to see the King looking down at her, arm outstretched with a vial in his hand.
"It's poison" He murmured "We we're going to use it if either of them were...."
"Awake?" She hissed and he nodded, almost guiltily.

"Take it" Edward murmured from behind and it was only because of that that she did, reaching out and taking the rounded vial into her hand, the glass cool against her fingers.
"There will be no pain" Her brother in law continued, beginning to back away "Only sleep" turning fully, he made to put an arm around Richard's shoulders, to guide him away but the younger man resisted, anger raging in his eyes.

"If you think for one moment I'm leaving Cate here, alone, with him...."
"You will" Edward told him firmly, pushing him towards the door with George's help "or so help me God, Dickon, I will lock you in a cell of your own" Again he pushed and with protests filling the air, Richard was escorted from the chamber, his brothers pulling the door shut behind them so that the two inside were left alone and silence fell.

Catherine stared at the vial in her hand, wondering how something so small could take a life and then wondering how she was meant to do it. How could she take Edward's life when all she had ever wanted to do was save it?

He suddenly appeared beside her, the same small smile on his lips as before as he brushed her hair over her shoulder so he could see her face.
"There's a goblet of wine, over there" He told her, nodding towards the corner of the chamber where a small table lay "pour it in there, love" She shook her head, looking up at him through a haze of fresh tears.

"I can't..."

"You can" He told her "You must. Do you truly think there is anything other than death for me now? The Tower is a place of death, Cate, I am simply one more defeated soul for it to claim....there is nothing else for me now and if I am to die, I will die at your hand for then it is not murder, it is a blessing" Giving her a gentle push, she rose from the bed in a trance, still staring at the vial in her hand, filled with strange green liquid as she stepped slowly towards the table.

The goblet atop it was filled almost to the brim with wine as red as blood and she closed her eyes when she uncorked the poison, her stomach turning with sickness "Do it" Edward's voice told her and she turned her hand, listening with an aching heart to the sound of death descending into its weapon of choice.

Opening her eyes, she watched the wine ripple for a moment before lifting the goblet and wandering back to the bed, seeing her Prince had chosen to lie back against the covers of his bed again. With a small sigh, she sat beside him, hesitating before his fingers curled around her wrist and guided the goblet to his lips.

"By your hand only" He murmured before letting the poisoned liquid into his mouth, drinking in great, deep gulps as if it were a sweet relief and not the instrument of his death.

A small sob escaped Catherine once he'd finished and lowered the goblet to the floor, not caring that it fell over with a clatter. Lifting a hand she ran a finger along his wine stained lips, feeling her heart break at the knowledge there was nothing she could do, there was nothing even God could do. Yet he continued to smile softly, patting the mattress and coaxing her to lie beside him, propped up on one elbow while she tried to keep her tears from splashing onto his face.

"Did you like the gloves?" He asked quietly and she almost laughed at the simplicity of the question.
"I adore them, Edward...."
He nodded happily and then his face was overcome with a shadow of seriousness that made his smile fade.
"I have something to ask you"
"Anything" She replied quickly, eager to do what she could for the boy that lay dying next to her. His reply truly did break her heart.

"Remember me....think of me" He murmured "Not every day but, sometimes....just sometimes remember me, Cate, with fondness"

Another sob left her lips and she couldn't stop herself from darting forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead, running a hand through the soft dark curls that crowned his head.

"There is nothing on earth that could stop me from doing that" She replied fiercely and he coughed, making her draw back suddenly and more tears slide down her face when she saw the way his eyelids began to droop, the colour draining from his cheeks.

He looked like he was made of wax, the perfect figure of an angel, as pale as alabaster stone. She cradled his cheek with one hand, feeling it grow gold beneath her palm and shuffled closer in an attempt to warm him despite knowing it would do no good.

"To think...." He mused, his voice now quieter, fading away along with his life "how different our lives could have been if we had had more time...." Catherine shook her head, wiping away the solitary tear that escaped the corner of his eye.

"Hush, mon amor" She told him, willing his eyes to stay open and alert, even as they threatened to flutter peacefully shut "We have all the time in the world"

One last smile graced his lips and he reached up with a trembling hand, placing it against her cheek just as she'd done to him. It was as cold like the rest of him had become, like ice, and he stared up at her with dazed eyes, almost as if he thought her a dream.

"Cate...." He murmured "sweet Cate....never look back"

Leaning forward again, she pressed a gentle kiss to one pale cheek and rested their foreheads together. There, she could feel his gentle breaths on her lips, feel his heart beneath her hand. She closed her eyes and remained there, close to him, with him until she felt the slowing beat stop, the gentle breaths halt.

Two tears dropped onto his cheeks as she drew away, the last warmth his body would ever feel. Shaking her head, she drew her fingers through his hair a final time, brushing it away from his peaceful face that truly did mirror sleep. There was no trace of pain, no trace of fear....he looked like he was dreaming.

"Oh Edward...." She whispered "I will always look back"