~And Many More~

The dismay brought by the dead of the day was dispelled by many goblets of ale by sunset, filling the York encampment with drunken laughter. Inside the King's tent, men danced atop tables or sat on chairs, whores on their laps that Edward had had brought from the nearest town.

He, of course, partook in the merrymaking and was seated on his throne with a pretty blonde on his knee, one hand gently fondling her exposed breasts. The woman laughed, tangling her delicate hands in his hair, and kissing him full on the lips.

Beside the golden King of York sat Catherine, still dressed in her husband's clothes and dizzy with drink. Smiling lazily at the men around her, she took another sip of ale, the alcohol dashing any embarrassment that would've filled her had she been sober. The candles lighting the tent danced before her eyes, their bright flames turned to flickering amber stars.

Even the pretty blonde's hair was turned to spun gold and in her haze, Catherine reached out to touch a strand only to find slender fingers wrap around her wrist. A pair of deep brown eyes stared into her blue ones and the blonde woman tilted her head, a small smile curving her rosebud lips.

"She's a pretty one, your grace" She murmured and Edward chuckled, pulling her closer.
"She's my sister in law....the Duchess of Gloucester"
"Wife to Prince Richard, Duke of Gloucester" Catherine finished, words slurred, gently pulling her wrist from the woman's grasp and feeling it fall limp into her lap.

"Where is his grace?" The woman asked, peering around "I don't believe I have seen him tonight?" At that, Edward laughed and reached for the bright magenta skirts that were already hiked above her knees.

"You won't see my little brother within ten feet of this place tonight" He answered, brushing his fingers along one smooth thigh "Dickon is a loyal little thing and that loyalty extends to the marriage bed!"
Catherine smiled, nodding slowly.
"I am lucky in that" She murmured, draining the rest of her goblet and pushing herself unsteadily to her feet. Despite the joy of the night's revelries, an inevitable tiredness called her to bed, as well as to her husband.

It was not only for the sake of fidelity he stayed away, she knew, for if Edward had requested his presence he would've been there. It were his injuries that kept him away and she knew he needed to be checked upon. Bobbing a clumsy curtsy to the King, she wandered out of the tent and into the night, the cool air brushing against her skin and sobering her somewhat.

The space surrounding her was all but deserted, her only company being the flickering flames of torches that provided the darkness with a dim glow.

The rowdy noise of Edward's men now behind her, she paused, taking a moment to look up into the inky expanse of the sky, dotted with stars. How many had ascended to the heavens above that day, she wondered, and how many had descended to hell? She knew of at least one that had gone straight to the latter. A man who'd died at her own hand.

As the shock of battle wore away, Catherine had begun to feel an undeniable coldness creep over her body. Though she knew it to be right in her own eyes and the eyes of many....she had still killed, she had decided to play God and seen that a man's life ended. Blood coated her hands in an invisible stain no amount of time would ever be able to remove.

Her act satisfied her, she had to admit, and for the first time within her life she felt a part of her had finally been lain to rest in the tomb of her heart. All the men who had taken her were dead and two of them had died that very day. Thomas and John in battle and Warwick at the end of her own dagger. They were all dead, they were all gone and she was out of their reach.

Or rather Warwick's reach, his brothers were only ever of a minor concern to her and John, she shook her head, John had been a friend. In a way.

A heavy sigh filled the air and Catherine looked down from the sky to see a figure in the near distance, sitting on the grass with his head bent to the ground. Richard. Feeling herself sober some more at the sight, she began to wander towards him, slowly striding through the grass until she was by his side and gently lowered herself to the earth.

Dressed in a clean shirt and breeches and the mud of battle cleaned from his skin, Richard looked almost returned to his normal self in the dark of night. His left arm was bound in thick, blood-spotted bandages and strapped firm with a sling tied around his neck. He stared blankly into the grass, not even looking up when Catherine sat beside him.

Together they stared onto the darkened battlefield in silence, the memory of cannon fire and agonised cries still fresh.

"Before today, I had not killed a man. Now I have killed many"

His voice was quiet, almost like a breath on the wind, but Catherine heard every syllable and looked at him in surprise. She knew that he would brood over the men he'd taken the lives of that day but it brought a new pain to her heart to know the blood he'd spilt had been his first.

"I thought you had....that night, at the Tower..."
"Yes I was tainted with some blood in the fray...I struck several men but I didn't...." His words failed him for a moment, dwindling into silence "....kill them"
"And today you did"
"Today I had no choice"

Shuffling up to his side, Catherine placed a tender hand on his good arm, sitting up a little straighter to brush a kiss to his cheek. His eyes were misty and it was not simply because of the dark. A part of his mind had wandered into the dark depths of guilt at the thought that blood now coated his hands.

He had always been one to dwell upon darkness, especially when it came to actions that clashed with his moral code. It was one constructed of chivalry and honour, the two things she knew he had seen dashed into the mud that day which in itself would've proved a blow no matter how much he prepared. Now, he was at war with himself and she sought to bring him peace.

"You have done no wrong, Dickon" She told him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze "It is as you said, you had no choice. If their blood did not stain your hands then yours would stain theirs!" Richard nodded but it was clear he was in a daze and did not hear her words, not truly. She believed that he did not even see her for he stared across the fields with a look of such dazed distance she was sure he'd slipped into another realm.

A painful one of painful memories, filled with painful echoes. It did not take her long to recognise the look of lost innocence.

"It wasn't how I expected it to be" He murmured softly, a small sigh leaving his lips "I suppose I expected taking the life of another to be easy, like dispatching an order but....but it was not. The light went from their eyes, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out in one breath and then...." His good hand reached out as if to capture something, fingers curling around air "Then they fell, one by one, and lay still on the ground, like puppets with cut strings"

Even though he was a man grown, he sounded like a child, scared and alone and in need of her comfort. Leaning her head against his shoulder, Catherine slid her hand down his arm and intertwined their fingers as a gentle breeze stirred around them.

"Do not let their souls weigh heavy on your conscience, my love" She whispered "There will be more battles to come and you will drown in the blood you spill if you do not learn to swim" Richard finally looked up, his dark eyes returned to normal somewhat and filled with love for her.

"As long as you are with me"
Catherine nodded, holding him close.
"Always"

꧁꧂

Westminster Abbey....

Laid out upon slabs of cold stone, donning their armour and with their swords clasped in their hands, the dead Neville brothers were on display for the whole of London. It was to prove the traitors were dead and many a person had flocked to see them in the days after the battle, the air abuzz with the tale of the woman who had killed the Kingmaker.

Now only few stood in the abbey, watching on with stony expressions. Even in his own death, Catherine now took precedence over him.

The grand Abbey almost seemed a tomb itself, eerily silent without the usual angelic hum of choir boys or the Archbishop conducting mass. It's vast marble and stone walls surrounded them all, sealing them away from the world in a land of death and their own troubled thoughts.

The only sound that dare disturb the quiet were the quiet sobs of Isabel Neville. She stood apart from the others, almost hiding behind a strong pillar of stone, her dark green skirts fisted in her hands. Her eyes were red from crying, holding dark purple crescents under them, her porcelain skin was pale and blotchy and her lower lip quivered like a child's.

Only her ladies comforted her.

Returned to her usual finery, rings on her fingers, jewels on her belt, the glistening crown of England on her golden head, Elizabeth kept one hand wrapped firmly around her locket. Her lips moved in a silent curse and Catherine (who stood beside her with Jaquetta) knew that she wished for it to be George that lay beside Warwick, not John. Perhaps it would've been if Edward hadn't taken the Earldom of Northumberland from him.

A title that now rested firmly on Henry Percy.

It had been a relief for Catherine to learn that her brother was still in the North, at Alnwick with their Mother and had in fact made no move South. Perhaps he had decided to lay his weapons to rest she hoped more than wondered or perhaps he was waiting to join the true might of Lancaster that had set sail on the day Barnet was fought, from France.

Queen Marguerite and Prince Edward were close and Catherine prayed that her brother would not join them. For his own sake. She could not bear to lose him.

At the sound of heavy footsteps, Catherine looked up to see the three sons of York walking towards their dead cousins. With their heads held high they appeared every inch the strong alliance England needed and only their wives knew how fractured they truly were behind closed doors.

Striding forth across the intricately patterned marble abbey floor, the three brothers came to a halt beside the stone slabs, clasping their hands in front of them. Catherine was relived to see that in the week since the battle, his arm did not appear to pain him too much. Released from its sling, it was still tightly bandaged beneath his doublet but he appeared to move it well enough, albeit a little slowly.

The true pain lay not in his arm but in his heart and displayed itself in the taught frown painted across his lips. Even though his back was turned to her, she knew it was there just as she knew it would deepen when George spoke.

"Their heads should be torn off and skewered on the Tower gates for all to see. That's the only way to punish traitors"

Catherine gritted her teeth, two of her fingers gently playing with the tear drop shaped pearl that dangled from her earring. While she could not deny the prospect of seeing Warwick's head on a spike brought her some satisfaction, she knew George did not speak out of true hatred for his cousin. He spoke only for his own gain; trying to distance himself from the treason he had been party to.

"Bit rich George, even for you" Richard murmured, jaw clenched as his brother's voice echoed around them.
"What was that little brother?"
"You went against us" He hissed "Down on your knees for Warwick when you thought he would make you King...."

"Richard" Edward snapped lowly, staring stonily ahead as his two brothers glared at one another before following suit "You would rather your dear wife saw her Father carved up and sent on a tour of England?" George turned glancing cooly at the sobbing Isabel for a moment.

"No" He replied, putting his back to her again. "Obviously" Edward nodded , giving George a sidewards glance of irritation, one that Richard shared. He had no time for his brother's petty words, his childlike demands that made him sound more a fool than he was. Put their cousin's heads on spikes? Had he forgotten the pain it had brought their family when their Father succumbed to that fate?

It would not be inflicted on their kin again.

"We are here to honour two of the finest warriors this country has ever known" He said at last "They fought with our Father and we would be nothing without them" He resisted the urge to slap his brother as George rolled his eyes, a slight smirk pulling at his lips.

"They may have only been an in-law to you but Warwick was like a Father to us" Richard snapped "for a time at least. And John was a brother, we must remember him particularly as the hero he was and not the traitor he became....and we are not savages"

"Just Catherine who put our dear cousin to the sword a touch excessively, no?" George began only to feel the iron grip of his elder brother curling around his elbow while he held an infuriated Richard at bay, shaking his head.

"Remember where you are" Edward hissed, glancing at Catherine with an apologetic look in his eyes. She merely shrugged, not caring in the slightest for George's words "We have won this battle but we are yet to win the war and I cannot have this"

His two brothers glared are one another again before Richard finally relaxed, fixing his angered gaze on his cousins once more.

"If I hear Catherine's name on your lips again, I will cut your tongue from your mouth" He threatened lowly so that only his brothers could hear and felt slightly satisfied at the sight of the amused smile that flitted across Edward's lips; the look of trepidation that crossed George's face.

From behind, Catherine watched, still toying with her earring while Elizabeth did the same with her locket, both fixated on the second son of York.
"George is loyal to your husband it seems" Jaquetta murmured but Elizabeth only scoffed.
"Today"
"We may have to forgive him, leave our vengeance to God"

This time Catherine's scoff joined the Queen's and the two women shook their heads.
"Never"

꧁꧂

The Tower of London....

Her lithe figure lit by the roaring fire, Elizabeth tore the parchment from her locket in half and tossed the scrap with Warwick's name into the flames. She had faith in her magic and always had, after all, it had proven useful on many occasions but this time, it was not her power that had helped her to claim victory, it was the woman behind her.

Garbed in her nightgown and a robe of crimson velvet, lined with sable fur, Catherine sat comfortably in an oaken chair, watching as Elizabeth turned to her.
"So" The Queen began, her voice light and smooth "what the soldiers were saying is true....you killed the great Earl of Warwick?" A short nod answered her.

"I did"

A smirk curved the corners of Elizabeth's plump lips and she sank down in a chair next to her friend, letting her eyes wander up and down the younger woman. She truly was a woman now. A Duchess, a Mother, a warrior. A woman more powerful than she could've ever imagined the frightened young girl she'd met at her coronation feast to be.

Then she had promised to help Catherine soar and soar was what she had done, high above the rest until she nearly touched the clouds.

"So you have your revenge" She sighed, almost laughing when Catherine mirrored her smirk "And I have mine"
"Now there is George" She finished.
"And now there is George....but you needn't worry. His time will come"

Catherine's eyes flicked to the fire and she gazed into their amber flames, feeling their heat lick up her body through her robe. The fires of hell were now where Warwick resided and where George would join him. While he claimed to be loyal she knew him to be anything but, she knew him to be a snake, a traitor and a danger to her son as well as her husband.

"Yes" She replied "His time will come, I will make sure of that"

"I believe you will" Elizabeth murmured, still watching her closely. There was something else she noticed in Catherine, the Catherine now grown from the girl she once was. That girl had promised her something, sworn something she now truly was and none could deny. "You're dangerous"

The flaxen haired Duchess turned to her, her smile widening at the observation that clearly caused pride to stir in her heart.
"I know" Rising to her feet, she bobbed a small curtsy, making Elizabeth chuckle and bid her a goodnight as she glided from her chambers towards her own.

The Tower corridors were all but silent as Catherine walked along them, the only sound being her shoes which tapped rhythmically on the stone beneath. It did not take long for her to reach the chamber she shared with her little family and when she opened the heavy door giving her entry, she felt a familiar warmth wash over her.

A fire flickered in the hearth, encasing the bedchamber in an amber glow but for once it was not the flames that caught her attention but the figures before it. His doublet long discarded he sat with his back against a chair, his injured arm resting carefully on one bent knee while he watched his son. Little Henry lay on his stomach opposite him, donning his nightshirt and grinning from ear to ear as he piled the wooden blocks spread across the carpet into a tall tower.

"Another!" He called happily and Richard plucked another carefully carved block from the rug; handed it to his son with a soft smile on his lips. The little boy before him held his heart in his hand, though he did not know it yet, much like Cate (who certainly knew it) and his devotion to him was as strong as it was to her. His Duchess and his little knight.

He'd spent the past three hours in the company of Henry, playing with him, talking to him, trying to make up for the time Warwick had forced them to lose. He learnt that Henry wanted to be a King, a King of the wood with a crown of emeralds shaped like leaves on his head. He would ride a stag and have a loyal band of knights just as King Arthur did. The last part brought a smile to Richard's lips.

It made him love his son even more to know that he held the same adoration for the Arthurian tales as he had done as a child. He wanted to encourage that love and use it to instil the values and morals he treasured, things that would ensure Henry became a great knight of the realm. He was already an Earl at just two!

"Mama!"
Richard looked up at his son's exuberant cry, smiling at the sight of Catherine wandering towards them. Henry scrambled to his feet, rushing forward and throwing himself into her arms with a squeal that turned to a laugh when she lifted him from the floor.

"Oh, my boy" She breathed into his hair "My darling boy, how are you?"

"Well, Mama" He replied sweetly, nuzzling into her neck while she sat down and gazed at the bandages bunched beneath her husband's shirt.
"I am well too" He assured her, answering the question that had been about to leave her lips before he brushed his own against them "I am always well with you here"

"Then you shall always be well for I will never leave" She replied, letting Henry slide onto her lap and curl into the softness of her robe as he loved to do.

Had he been able to do so, Richard would've put his arm around her and drawn her and their son close, keeping their little family together but he could not and so she leant her head on his shoulder. The warmth of his linen covered skin against her cheek made her smile and he looked down, quirking an eyebrow.

"What are you smiling at, ma belle?" He asked and she glanced up at him as Henry drooped in her arm, falling quickly into a deep sleep as he always did.
"You. Our son....being here, together"
"As we shall always be" He finished "Or at least when there is peace" His words made Catherine frown and she raised her head, sitting up slowly so she did not disturb the little boy in her arms.

"W-what do you mean, Dickon? We are together in war and in peace...." She was hushed with the gentle press of Richard's lips against hers, one hand coming to cradle her cheek.

"I want you to stay here" He murmured after a few moments, kissing her again when she opened her mouth to protest. No matter what the cost, he would make her listen to what he had to say. Drawing away, he gazed deep into her eyes, the worried pools of light blue staring back at him.

"I am proud of you, Cate, for all that you did at Barnet. You proved yourself worthy to the entire Kingdom that day and none of us shall ever forget it but...." His breath hitched slightly "I will not see you hurt or in any danger of hurt....at Barnet you were brave, you were a true warrior, sweetheart, but you still disobeyed me. I told you to say and you did not. I do not hold it against you but I cannot go into battle worrying that you will place yourself on the field. I need to know that you're safe, for your own sake as well as mine"

As he came to an end, Catherine cast her eyes to the floor beneath, letting her eyes flick over the dancing embroidery on the rug. Deep down, she supposed she knew that this demand would be made of her, she'd known ever since they returned to London, and with that being the last night before the Yorks departed, it was the prime time to make it.

Her heart yearned to be with him as her soul and body did. To see them parted would tear it in two and she could feel it begin to break at his words.
Even as she began to nod.

"As you wish" She whispered "It hurts me deeply but if I was a cause of distraction in the battle and you were hurt as you were at Barnet or worse" Her gaze flicked to the bandages beneath his shirt. She would have asked him not to fight if she thought it would do any good for his wounds were far from healed but truly, even if she begged it would amount to naught "I would not be able to live with myself and I need you, Richard" Henry stirred in her arms and a soft smile lit her lips "We need you"

Richard's expression mirrored hers and he gently moved his hand from her cheek to tuck a lock of hair affectionately behind her ear, just as he'd done ever since they were children.

"And I need you, ma belle" He whispered before kissing her again "Both of you which is why I will not see you in harm's way" He was reassured by her nod and his smile widened when she leant down to brush her lips against the sleeve of his shirt where his bandages lay.

"Know that you shall take my heart with you" She told him before slowly rising to her feet, being careful not to wake the sleeping boy in her arms "And I shall be desolate until your return. I shall not sleep" Casting a wry smile over her shoulder, she made for the adjoining chamber "Now come and help me put our angel to bed and then I shall see to your back, I wish for you to be in as much comfort as possible as you ride tomorrow"

Richard could only smile in return at that, his heart swelling in his chest as he too rose from the floor.