~France~

May 1475, Westminster Palace....

"So gather your weapons and muster your men! We will take France!"

On the royal dais, three men stood, hands on their swords, coronets on their heads. They looked out into the crowd of courtiers with confidence in themselves and their words which were spoken by the King captured in a fervour he could only match when he was in his cups.

Or at least that was what Catherine thought as she watched them beside the Queen. Elizabeth sighed but the quiet noise was drowned out by the roaring cheer that went up at her husband's words. That was how she and Catherine's pleas for peace to each of their Lords had gone too, drowned out by the call of adventure and honour.

Edward grinned around like a child who could see his favourite sweet and his brothers beside him were much the same. Only Richard's sweet was honour and George's was power, the regency of France he so desired and his sisters in law dreaded he would hold.

"Another war" Catherine muttered glumly "When only two years ago we saw the end of another"

"Three sons of York!" George announced, placing his arms around his brothers with a grin on his face "And none shall divide us!"
"More likely he shall divide us" Elizabeth hissed as her brother walked over to her and the Duchess, newly returned from Wales at her request "He already has, by separating us from our Lord husbands in spirit!"

"Which is exactly what he wants" Anthony remarked, pouring himself some wine from the nearby table "For a house divided against itself cannot stand and he will turn us against one another, even though he is a brick in our very walls" Catherine grimaced, watching she and Elizabeth's children play around the hall, unaware of the politics surrounding them; the danger.

The three sons of York dispersed, Edward settling on his throne while George vanished like a ghost. No doubt to plot, Catherine seethed, taking up her own goblet of wine and relishing the short sip she took. Elizabeth picked up her silver skirts and glided through the crowds to her husband, brother in tow with a grimness to his face they both shared.

"Are you well, my love?" Richard asked as he appeared at her side, hand in hand with little Princess Elizabeth. She curtsied prettily and her Aunt did the same, doing her best to smile.
"Ah, Lizzie! You have grown, my dear! Nine years old already! Are you well?"

"I am!" The Princess replied, gazing up her her Uncle with glistening awe in her eyes "Uncle Dickon has been explaining the war to me! He says we shall regain what we lost under King Henry and beyond!"
"Does he?" Catherine replied "Why don't you see to your Father, Liz? I'm sure he would be able to tell you more!" Elizabeth nodded enthusiastically and (after a second pretty curtsy) skipped away to find the King, who now sat alone.

Catherine returned to her wine, a grim expression on her face while Richard watched her.
"How can you ask me if I'm well?" She demanded under her breath "When Edward has just stirred up another war where you could die?" Richard merely shrugged, unperturbed.

"He wants a memory that will be written through the ages" Catherine turned to him sharply "a legacy"
"And I want a living husband!" She snapped, almost slamming down her goblet on the table and striding away.

"Cate...." She heard called after her, desperate, but payed Richard no heed and swept from the hall, shaking her head as she went.

She had to get out, she needed air to filled her lungs, air that had been sucked from the palace by George's scheming. She could not bare it. Bursting out into the fresh air as quickly as she could, her senses relished the edge of cold that bit into her pale skin and she gathered her skirts, rushing down the steps to path along the river.

The water was not the pleasing deep blue she could see from the walls of Bamburgh, it was a murky grey, tinged with brown and black and carried the stench of the city with it. A murky mist hung over the top and Catherine sighed leaning on the path wall. Breathing deeply, her lungs finally found relief and she shook her head.

"Another war! When Edward promised us an end to bloodshed" She looked up at Anthony's voice as he and the Queen joined her, all three leaning against the path wall and gazing into the murky river "and that our taxes wouldn't rise again to pay for it"
"Think of the people!" She remarked "Many are still trying to rebuild their lives, this...this will ruin them!"

"Oh blame his brother George!" Elizabeth snapped, sweeping her golden plait behind her "He talked him into it!"

"And Richard too!" Catherine grumbled "it is all he talks of now of 'winning back England's honour'. While Bamburgh may be a place of honour I am certain England never had any honour to claim back!" Anthony sighed beside her. He'd never been a man of war, he was more a man of God and even then looked up to the heavens as if seeking guidance.

"Well" He said quietly "They must have this war without me" While Elizabeth turned to him sharply Catherine only nodded. He'd fought enough when there was reason to, he would not risk his life for this.

"No, Anthony!" His sister cried, grasping his hands in her iron firm grip with affection and command. He shook her away, avoiding the eyes that would be sure to bewitch him to her will if he met them.
"I'm going on a pilgrimage to Rome"
"Edward needs you by his side in France! I don't trust George!"

"None of us trust George!" Catherine returned, pushing herself from the wall "but you will not talk your brother out of this! Richard will keep an eye on the traitor. You can be sure of that" Anthony nodded.
"Take my advice" He said "You have made your peace with Lady Margaret, do the same with George" Instantly both women were staring at him in disbelief.

"Peace?" Elizabeth exclaimed "Lady Margaret saved my son and earned her place as his nursemaid! George killed our Father and brother and now he's taking Edward into danger!" Just as she'd done in the hall, she gathered her skirts and swept away again "I'll make my peace with George when he is dead" And there could be no doubt that was a promise.

"That goes for me too" Catherine murmured, turning back to the river while Anthony sighed "And what did she mean, Lady Margaret saved her son?"
"She brought him to life with her bare hands"
Again Catherine possessed a look of disbelief and began to laugh.

"No! Surely you are teasing!" But there was no sense of jest on Anthony's serious face and she frowned "You are serious?" A nod answered her "Christ, we all knew she thought herself holy, I wasn't aware she actually was!" Anthony smiled slightly at that and gazed up to the heavens again, his face clouded with questions.
"God works in mysterious ways, Catherine"

"You are telling me" She replied "For I for one wonder how it is he's allowed George to remain on the earth for this long! Only the devil could have made him so why does our Lord not strike him down?"

꧁꧂

June 1475....

She watched Richard closely as he climbed into bed that night. The last night they would be together before he left for France. There was an unmistakable excitement to his movements, a new energy and quickness to them that made it seem he was trying to move time faster. No matter how long she tried, she could not fully understand it.

After all they had been through, after all they had suffered at war's brutal hand, he still yearned for more? It was like an addiction inflicted by suffering, that was all he'd known since childhood, drawing him to it over and over, never letting him fully escape until he didn't want to. Catherine wished more than anything to break it.

They had been married eleven years, she'd carried his three children, they knew one another's deepest secrets and thoughts. How could he think to throw that away for land in a foreign country? The only thing she could think that would drive him was revenge, as it had driven her to kill Warwick, but there was no one he sought to take revenge from in France!

No, she did not understand and never would.

Placing down the ring she toyed with, Catherine left her dressing table and wandered over to the bed, leaning against one of the great carved posts.
"It frightens me to watch you go. I couldn't bear to lose you now" Richard simply smiled and extended a hand, helping her climb beneath the covers with him.

"You won't" He told her, kissing the top of her head and she laid it on his chest, pressing herself against him as much as she could. There was a need for closeness, a need for intimacy that she could cling to in the months to come "I must confess that I am troubled by George's call to arms....Ned has told him he may govern France...."

Immediately she relinquished her quest for warmth and her head shot up, blue eyes staring into darker ones in surprise.

"He has agreed?" She cried "No, Edward cannot be so blind as to not see what George will do with such power! He will not stop there! We all know...."
"As do I" Richard interrupted softly, coaxing her back into his arms and beginning to grace gentle patterns over her shoulder "But perhaps he will be calmed now that Isabel is with child again" It was all Catherine could do not to laugh at that.

"He has a daughter and yearns for a son" She retorted "If he achieves that there will be no limit to his ambition....not that there already is. What of our children, Richard? What of our life?" There was a desperate tone that seeped into her voice, like blood through cloth, and he frowned, glancing down at her.

"They will be safe! How could they not be?"
"They won't be if you...."

He silenced her with a kiss, long and pleasing so all thoughts of death were temporarily put from her mind. Of course she had a right to fear for his life but he wouldn't allow her to speak her fears into the open. That would only tempt the wheel of fortune and by God that was the last thing they needed.

"Even if something went awry they would have you, ma belle" He whispered against her lips "You are the strongest woman I have ever known" Catherine buried her face in the softness of his neck, relishing each beat of the steady pulse she found there.

"But I don't want them to just have me! They need you too!" She complained "Henry is riding now and needs you to take him on his first hunt, Joan needs you to make her a Queen and little Dickon simply needs to know his Father!"

"He will know his Father!" Richard returned, kissing her again "I have told you before, ma belle, I will always come back. You will not lose me on a battlefield" She lay her head on his chest, sighing again.

"No, my love but I fear I may lose you to your brother's ambition"

꧁꧂

July 1475, Westminster....

In Edward's absence, Elizabeth ruled the royal court like a King herself, occupying his throne, commanding the women that remained while their men fought. Both of the Neville girls arrived at court, overjoyed to see one another but hardly ever in sight as they avoided the Queen like the plague.

Catherine on the other hand, stayed by Elizabeth's side, caring for the Princes and Princesses and her own children. She enjoyed it, playing with them in the nursery and the gardens, dancing with them at evening feasts and comforting them whenever they missed their Fathers. It distracted her from her own longing for her husband and the sleepless night she spent wondering how he fared across the sea.

Little had been heard since the English army left the previous month, most of what had been was of the people's trouble at home. The taxes Edward raised had all but crippled them and now rumour of rebellion sounded, making Catherine's stomach turn. It was the last thing they needed and she wished there was a way to ease the people's suffering; especially her people in the North. She and Richard owed their protection and help to all but half the country and she was determined to find a way to aid them.

Once Richard returned and they headed North once more, they would think of something. They would not sit by and see their people suffer. That was something they would never do.

"Aunt Cate! Aunt Cate!" Catherine glanced up from her daydream to see Lizzie trotting towards her, a large smile on her face and a letter in her hand "Aunt Cate!" She chirped again in her light, angelic voice and hopped eagerly onto the cushioned window seat where her Aunt sat; held out the parchment "Tis from Uncle Dickon, I believe, he writes to tell us of the war!"

Catherine's heart leapt in her chest, beginning to beat as quickly as the war drum soldiers marched to. She wanted to snatch it from her niece's hands, cradle it to her chest, hold the parchment Richard had touched but she forced herself to restraint. Summoning a smile to her lips, she held out her hand and allowed Lizzie to place the letter in her palm before her itching fingers could hold out no longer.

Tearing at the wax seal, the parchment unfolded in moments. It smelt of the sea and some words were smudged with dried water but that didn't make it any less precious. Like a child, she curled up in the window (while her niece eagerly watched), pink skirts the same hue as the blush staining her cheeks and gazed at the words before her.

My dearest, truest wife and love, Cate,

Our campaign is a farce

Her smile faltered slightly at that, the sense of disappointment and anger in his words needing no searching for. A little hand took hers and she glanced up to find Lizzie smiling at her encouragingly.

King Louis has offered Edward terms of peace and he has taken them. His son is to marry Ned's daughter so she will be the next Queen of France.

Again, she stopped and stared up at the little girl sat in front of her, so small and innocent with her red curls and bright blue eyes. So curious of the world around her but she would never get to explore it as her fate was already sealed by her Father's royal word. She squeezed Lizzie's hand instinctively and her niece smiled again, unaware her life had just been written out for her.

And lots of gold.

Catherine scoffed, shaking her head. Of course Edward had been swayed by the temptation of gold, like a dragon. It was bad enough that he had forced a needless war on his people but it was worse that he would return home with nothing to give them, no great victory, no great reward.

I cannot forgive him for this betrayal. I have always been heart and soul for my brother, Edward, but now I cannot meet his eye. We have become like merchants haggling a price and of course Edward and his retinue have whored and drunk themselves into a stupor over this supposed 'victory'.

Worse still, George's ambition is curdling to rage as this peace thwarts him most of all.

"Of course...."
"Of course what?" Lizzie asked brightly but Catherine only shook her head; smiled at her niece.
"Nothing, dear" She said with as much sincerity as she could muster.

Edward should beware him from this day.

'He should've always been wary of him' She thought.

And so should Elizabeth for it is she he blames for his lost power and our failure. She's been writing to him since we left telling him not to fight and (while I know you also share this sentiment) I cannot believe you shall be pleased at the outcome of our campaign.

I will be with you and our children soon, belle,

Your loving Lord husband,

Richard, Duke of Gloucester

So the three sons of York were once again fractured in war, only this time it was not two against the third, they were all against one another.

And never could a divide be more dangerous.

꧁꧂

August 1475....

Picking up her skirts of light blue silk, red ringlets bobbing around her waist, Lizzie ran through the halls of Westminster in exactly the opposite manner she'd been taught. But she did not care for her lessons of decorum and grace, all she cared about was the clip-clop of hooves echoing in her ears and the flash of blue and murrey banners.

A hive of lively chatter filtered through the open door at the end of the corridor and she rushed over the threshold, a smile on her face. Her Mother would not admonish her for her lack of decorum, not once she'd spoken!

"Lady Mother!" She cried and all the women in the room looked up at the young Princess "Father is back from the war!" Relived gasped echoed around the chamber, none louder than the Queen's, who hoisted Cecily into her arms and took Mary's hand, ushering them towards the door.

"Come, Lizzie!" She called and the young girl found her hand taken by her Aunt Catherine as she made quickly back down the hall with her cousin Henry. She'd expected him to be more excited, to skip along the halls with his wooden horse in his hand but he was subdued, almost sad, and she saw his Mother squeeze his hand. As if to give him strength.

"Go to your rooms, my love, we will be there soon" She murmured and Henry's hand slipped from hers, hanging limp by his side while he waited for Joan and Dickon to join him. Catherine carried on to the courtyard, almost dragging Lizzie down the steep steps when she saw her husband. A wave of relief flooded through her veins, love setting her heart pounding and warming her to the bone.

His black curls bobbed in the breeze and (even though he was grim faced) he was undeniably handsome in his armour. His cloak bore his insignia as did the men behind him, carrying his standard by the King's. Edward was all smiles, riding into the courtyard with a merry laugh as if he were still the young Prince that had been crowned Edward IV fourteen years ago.

"Father!" Lizzie screamed and picked up her skirts again; ran to the side of his horse where her Mother and sisters waited.

Catherine instead rushed on, staring up at the great white destrier Richard rode as he pulled it to a halt and swung down from the saddle. He let out a sigh of pure relief when he saw her and she could see his face soften. Reaching out, he caught her by the waist and pulled her towards him, crushing his lips to hers in what she estimated to be the most public display of affection he'd ever made!

She relished every second, letting her eyes flutter closed and her fingers brush the soft curls of his hair.

"Catherine" He whispered when he pulled away gazing into her eyes before his face darkened again "He laughed" He glared at his brother across the courtyard "called me a fool for chivalry then stuck his own nose in the trough" Keeping a firm grip on her waist, the metal fingers of his gauntlet injecting sharp cold into her skin, he handed his horse to a groom and led her quickly away.

"Where's George?" She asked, looking around for the second son of York only to find he was not there. Richard almost laughed, though there was no amusement in his voice.

"He returned home as soon as we landed. I hear Isabel has left court too? Anne as well? Francis rode to meet her at Middleham" Catherine nodded her confirmation and Richard sighed, pulling her into the palace and almost stomping through the corridors.
By God he was angry, she thought, and trying so hard to keep his rage at bay for her sake.
"Where are our children?" He asked and she was suddenly stopped in her tracks by the feeling of dread that corrupted her heart.

"In their rooms" She replied quietly. Richard came to a stop as well and frowned slightly "But there is something I must tell you" Instantly his eyes widened with worry, and he looked down the corridor to where their children's rooms lay only to have Catherine cup his face; bring his gaze back to her "No" She whispered "the children are fine it's...." Her voice faltered, mind unable to find the words she needed to say "Come, I will show you"

Slipping a hand into Richard's, she gently lead him along the corridors to where their rooms lay and slipped through the door. Their three children were knelt by the fire, heads bent, tears streaming down their faces and what should've been a happy reunion turned dark as Richard saw what they mourned.

Who they mourned.

His shaggy grey coat had been gently brushed by Joan and his eyes were closed in the perfect imitation of sleep. He was laid before the fire, his favourite spot, and if it weren't for the absence of the gentle rise and fall of his chest, it could be believed he was just in a deep slumber.

But sadly it was not to be, the Duke's oldest companion was dead and nothing could bring him back.

Richard took in a sharp breath and Catherine saw his lower lip begin to quiver, just as it did when he was a boy. He was going to cry, she knew, so gently ushered the children to their bedchamber.

"You can come soon, my loves" She told them before returning to Richard to find him practically stumbling across the room. His cloak was in a heap on the floor and his chest heaved beneath his armour as he tried desperately to keep a steady hand on his emotions. It was not to be.

"Roland...." He whispered and with a great crash, collapsed beside his companion, a sob tearing from his throat. Tears pricked Catherine's eyes as she ran to him and knelt by his side, feeling his whole body tremble when she placed an arm around his shoulders. His dark hair fell over his face, hiding his grief stricken expression, but there was no hiding the heavy tears that dripped onto Roland's silvery coat.

"He was all I had left...." Richard whispered through his tears, bending down and lifting the old hound into his arms "He was all I had left of my Father and now he's gone...."

"Oh, my darling" Gathering Richard into her arms she cradled him close while he cried, just as she'd done when they were children, when his back hurt him and felt damned by God for it. His head rested on her shoulder, his tears dampened the front of her gown and he choked on his own cries, cradling Roland like he did their babes.

"I've lost him" He said; voice little more than a sob "Where our our children, Cate? I want them"
"We are here, Father" Joan answered and Catherine turned to see her three children standing behind them, red faced and puffy-eyed. More tears streamed down Richard's face and immediately they were around him, little hands clinging to him while they all cried.

Together in grief.