~Traitors in our Midst~

Catherine did not know how long she stayed by her Prince's side, his limp, icy hand clasped in her own. All she knew was that when she bid him farewell, she cried, and tucked his body beneath the covers of his bed as gently and lovingly as when she put her son to sleep.

"Sweet dreams" She whispered before she slipped through the door and closed it softly behind her, as if he were truly sleeping and she didn't wish to wake him. Though the guards had returned to their posts, the corridors seemed as deserted to her as they'd been when she first walked through them. She didn't see, she didn't hear, she only let her feet guide her, taking her through the fortress to her rooms.

Where Richard waited.

He was sitting by the fire, a half emptied jug of wine at his feet and a drained goblet in his hand, exactly like the one containing the poison she'd used to kill Edward. The sight sickened her and she averted her eyes, refusing to look at him as he refused to look at her. She trod carefully into the room, intending to slip away to their son's chamber. Her little Henry was what she needed in that moment, she needed him in her arms, warm, alive, but his Father's voice called to her.

"Are you well?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, fingers brushing against the handle she'd been reaching for before they fell.
"How can you ask me that?" She murmured "When I have just watched the man I love murder my King"
"I thought Edward was your King"
Turning, she finally allowed herself to look at him again and found their gazes met, both filled with sorrow and guilt.

"He is, Richard" She said, feeling tears well in her eyes again "but so was Henry and I watched you kill him before I had to murder his son...." Her voice trailed away and she covered her mouth with a hand, trying to stifle the sob threatening to escape her. Tilting his head, Richard lay his goblet to one side and slowly moved to his feet, never letting his eyes leave hers.

"You didn't have to" He replied "We would've done it"
"And let you do something I would never ever forgive you for?" She cried, shaking her head as tears began to stream down her cheeks "I don't think I can even forgive myself...." Her shoulders shook with sobs and instantly Richard was by her side, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her head against his chest. She had not the strength to pull away.

"Oh Cate"
"I killed him" She wept, shaking her head "I took his life....I killed my Edward....oh Edward...."

꧁꧂

Westminster Palace....

Margery sighed as she once again caught a lone tear that tracked its way down her mistress's cheek. Three days she had watched Catherine glide from room to room of her chambers like a ghost, pausing every so often at one window or another to gaze through the veil of glass as if looking for something.

She could often be found with her son, cradling little Henry close but she did not leave her rooms and when Richard returned from the days duties the silence lingered still. Only the sight of their clasped hands assured Margery that there was no dispute between them but she could not fathom what had caused Catherine such misery.

She would never know.
No one would ever know. 

"Cat" She whispered, catching another tear on the tip of her finger "Tell me, my friend, what is wrong?" The Duchess slowly shook her head, sniffing slightly and turning to Margery with a wry smile on her lips.
"Nothing" She said, drawing her into a firm hug "It is nothing, Margie....it is only trials of the heart that plague me but I am forbidden from dwelling on them today"

Margery knew she was right. That day, all were commanded to banish any whisper of misery from their souls for the true return of the Yorkist court. Edward had told them all that he needed his house to appear strong, united, and that was why a gown of cloth of silver lay on the nearby bed; a murrey kirtle rested softly against Catherine's skin.

Already her hair was adorned with pearls, threaded through the golden strands that were left loose to hang down her back and would be crowned with her royal coronet. A string of diamonds rested around her slender neck, delicately carved pearl drops dangled from her ears and her fingers glistened with jewel-studded rings.

Glamour to mask grief.

"Have strength" Was all Margery could say, gently squeezing Catherine's hand; leaning their foreheads together "I know it is within you"
"Thank you, my friend...."

"Cate? I was wondering if you would like to walk with me awhile in the gardens before we are nailed to Edward's command?" Richard's voice stirred them from their stolen moment of comfort and the young Duchess looked up at his voice, leaving her friend to reach out a hand to him, drawing him into her embrace with a sigh.

"Dickon...."
He did not ask if she was well for he knew she was not and so waved Margery away with a flick of his hand, smiling kindly at her.

"I will attend to her grace now, thank you, Margery"
The woman raised her eyebrows (not exactly confident in his dressing skills) but curtsied all the same, slipping away to the nursery to attend upon the little Lord there.

"You didn't have to do that" Catherine murmured, rubbing the silk of her kirtle between her fingers as Richard wandered over to the bed and gently took up the silver gown. The golden roses embroidered on miniver trimmed sleeves glinted in the morning light and he smiled, shaking his head.
"I know" Gathering the heavy skirts, he lifted the gown over his wife's head; guiding her arms through the sleeves "but I want to"
"Then who am I to say no?"

Sweeping her hair over one shoulder, she turned so her back was facing him and could not help the slight smile that flickered on her lips "if you tear this dress in your ever enduring frustration with its laces I swear I'll never speak to you again, Dickon"

"You know I'll buy you a hundred new gowns if I do" He murmured, voice coated with a thick layer of concentration telling her he was frowning as he took up the silken strands meant to weave the back of her dress together "I cannot stand when you are displeased with me"

Catherine almost turned at that, detecting an undertone of regret she knew at once was not about her gown. It was about Henry. About Edward. She pushed back the tears that stung her eyes.
"I'm not displeased with you, my love. I am simply sad that it had to happen. That...." A delicate kiss was planted to her neck, a short tug given to the laces as Richard managed to tie them.

"Speak no more of it, ma belle" He told her, leaving her side to fetch the golden coronet residing in a velvet-lined casket. Taking it in hand, he then guided her towards the full length mirror hanging on their wall and rested it gently on her head before kissing her neck again. Though they could see their own reflection, it was at each other they stared, two pairs of blue eyes, one light, one dark, locked in a gaze neither could decipher.

Slowly, their hands came together, fingers intertwining as they always did. Richard smiled slightly "Come, my love" He whispered "The sun needs a flower to rest his beauty on"

꧁꧂

Though the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester were with one another in spirit, when they emerged from the cool relief the gardens brought they were separated in body. Catherine stood beside the Queen's throne, looking down at the blonde haired beauty that gazed around the palace hall with eyes of sapphire blue, while Richard was by the King's. It was their duty.

Isabel and George were also present but they appeared almost exiles from the royal family to the rest of the court, stood at the very foot of the dais until Edward beckoned them closer. A united front was what he would present, even if all that looked could see the cracks running between them all. United was what they had to be in the face of traitors, he'd said mere moments ago and Catherine tried to resist rolling her eyes.

A traitor stood right amongst them, plotting under false pretences of reformed loyalty. The very sight of him smiling at the King made her grimace.

Suddenly a hush fell over the hall and the doors at the far end opened revealing two women, ladies of the Queen, leading a young girl (or woman, Catherine thought) towards the royal dais like the condemned to the block. Garbed in black, her honey coloured curls were pulled back from her thinned face, hidden beneath a tall hennin that threatened to fall from her head with each step she took.

Pale hands fisted themselves tightly in her velvet skirts and she kept her eyes averted from the royals ahead. Even from afar, Catherine was sure she could see the bones in Anne Neville's delicate fingers and pity pricked at her heart for the girl. She was no traitor! How could she be when she had left these shores on the command of her father being no more than a child?

While age proved her a child still, there was something in her face that told the opposite. It was no longer soft nor bright with youth, the joyful innocence that had once been seen at Middleham, taking delight in each new day. Now every moment, every step seemed a chore. A weariness had been applied to her delicate (almost frail) features that told of ordeals only suffered by the worldly wise, a tiredness to her eyes that set bruise like crescents underneath them.

No, she was no traitor.
But she also was no child.

Little Anne Neville had grown up, however unwillingly.

When she came before the dais, she dipped down into a deep curtsy, still refusing to let any meet her gaze, as if she believed they would execute her where she stood for such a thing. A slight trembling in her lower lip was all that remained of the young girl Catherine had known and her heart ached to help her, to comfort her, only she was not sure if Anne would accept either from her.

For there was no way upon the earth she didn't know the Duchess had slain her Father.

Rising from her curtsy, she finally looked up, but it was to the King as he rose, a shining golden figure that descended upon her like a terrifying angel. The Neville girl swallowed, having to look up to find the eyes of her imposing cousin.

"Your grace" She said, though her voice was little more than a mouse's whisper "I beg for your pardon....it was not my will to betray you. My Father commanded my married to the son of Marguerite of Anjou and she ordered I go with them" Her lip trembled slightly again and she shook her head, almost pleading "I had no choice but to obey...."

Edward tilted his head, looking down upon his little cousin with thought as he let out an audible sigh. 'Be gentle with her' Catherine prayed, finding herself wringing her hands together with nerves while the Queen sat back upon her throne, a glimmer of satisfaction in her expression.

She was enjoying this.

"You know that Marguerite of Anjou is defeated?" Her husband asked "And will never ride out against me again?" Anne quickly nodded, swallowing again.
"I know that now"
A moment of silence passed in what seemed like an eternity to those spectating.

"Well that is good enough for me"

"Oh thank God" Catherine whispered beneath her breath, seeing Anne visibly relax somewhat as Edward smiled down at her.

"I forgive you and I pardon you" He continued, laying one large hand on her slender shoulder that looked like it could break in a gentle breeze "You are welcome here at court and you may live here with your sister!" Nodding kindly, he swept away, making to stride back to his throne where his Queen sat trapped in disbelief when the Neville girl called to him.

"Your grace?"

Her cousins all drew in sharp breaths, their eyes flicking to the King and back to her. This was what remained of her Neville pride, her Neville strength, but they all wished she'd not chosen that moment to use it.
Edward turned, the smile on his lips vanished. Instead he harboured a look of warning on his face.

"I am grateful for the mercy you have shown me but...." Anne looked to her sister who shook her head but was payed no heed "My Mother....she is still in sanctuary"

"Indeed" Edward replied, a definite tone of finality resonating in his words "and that is where she has chosen to remain" Giving one sharp glance to his men, he waved a dismissive hand and returned to his throne, watching Anne with narrowed eyes as she curtsied low. He nodded to his court and they began to disperse, breaking into groups that sent a flurry of gossip up towards the chamber rafters.

Anne all but fled, rushing past the women meant to escort her and through the doors.
"Anne" Catherine murmured, gathering her silver skirts in hand and stepping down the dais.
"Cat!" Elizabeth called after her but the Duchess' lithe figure had already disappeared amongst the crowds, leaving only a trail of bowing nobles to track her by.

Catherine payed heed to none of them, quickening her steps in her search for skirts of black as she advanced through the palace. Catching sight of the girl sweeping around a corner, she called out.
"Anne!" The youngest Neville did not stop and Catherine sighed, almost running along the marble floors in her effort to catch up "Anne!" She called again when she rounded a corner, crying out in surprise when she almost collided with her old friend.

Anne stared up at her with a face of alabaster stone, cold and unfeeling, unmoving and unyielding as she stared up at the Duchess of Gloucester. Gathering her skirts she dipped down into a practiced curtesy.
"Your grace"

"No" Catherine murmured, moving to raise her but Anne stepped away, a wariness in her matured gaze.
"You killed my Father" There was no accusation in her voice, no question, only a directness that almost struck the other woman dumb. Still, she felt no guilt.
"I did" She murmured.
"Then why do you speak to me?"

She frowned slightly, reaching out again to take Anne's hand only to find her pull away once more.
"I wanted to make sure you are well"
Blue eyes struck hers, filled with hurt and pain.

"I can never be well" Anne hissed "My Father is dead, my husband is dead" Catherine closed her own eyes at that, trying desperately to resist the tears that welled in them "My uncle is dead, my Mother is in sanctuary, my Mother in law is in the Tower and...." Only then did her voice falter slightly, only then did her gaze soften from anger to sadness "The woman I once thought of as a friend turned out to be the dagger driving through the heart of my family....just like Issy used to say" She shook her head "Do not seek me out, Catherine, I do not wish to see you"

And then all familiarity was gone, all trace of a shared past and fractured future and Anne curtsied once again "Your grace" She murmured before turning on her heels and hurrying away, disappearing into the swirl of nobles that had begun to descend on the halls.

꧁꧂

The Tower of London Chapel....

Just as it had been over a month ago at Westminster Abbey, two bodies lay displayed in the chapel, only they were not garbed in armour but the black and crimson of Lancaster. No crowns adorned their dark heads but there was no mistaking King Henry and his son, their faces pale and eyes closed in death; arms by their sides.

There was no priest to oversee them, he would come only to see them buried, no mourners surrounded their bodies to cry for their passing. Only a woman and her child, dressed in heavy clothes of black looked upon them and only she wept for them.

A ebony veil covered her golden hair and tears dampened her cheeks, wiped away by the gentle hands of her son who cried because she did. Catherine had asked that Queen Marguerite be allowed to attend the funeral of her son and husband, to see them one last time before they were claimed by the earth but Edward had denied her with a Will of iron so she remained alone.

Her footsteps echoed around the sacred chamber as she approached the stone where Henry and Edward lay, more peaceful in death then they were ever permitted to be in life. They would have rest now, she was sure of it, but could not help wishing they still lived, that rosy colour still tinted their pale cheeks. Pacing slowly around their bodies, she dipped down into a low curtsy to King Henry, determined to pay him respect even though he would not know it.

Leaning forward, she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, grimacing at how cold his skin was beneath her lips.

"Say farewell to the King, my love" She murmured to her son and the little boy did as he was bade, leaning forward to bestow his own kiss.
"Goodbye, Henny" He said when he drew away and Catherine felt her heart twist with agonising pain "Fly"
"Fly, my love?" She repeated and little Henry nodded.
"Fly to heaven"

Tears blurring her vision, she clasped his little body to hers as she left the King's side and walked to the Edward's with a heavy heart, gazing sadly on his face. Tears dropped onto the bodice of her gown and she reached one hand forward to gently run her fingers through the dark curls crowning his head. They were still so soft, so gentle, just like he had been....

"Goodbye, my Prince"
Cradling his cheek, she leant forward again and pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before she drew away forever. Reaching down, she laced her fingers through his, grimacing at their icy touch, before she felt something else brush against her skin. Frowning, she turned his hand over only to let out a little sob at the sight of the string of pearls she'd once given him, now fashioned into a rosary.

"You kept it" She wept, shaking her head "Through all these years" In the chapel, with her son, she felt alone in her grief, only she was not alone in that moment. Perhaps she should've known she wouldn't be.

Hidden in the shadows of the floor above the chapel, their faces hidden, George and Richard watched Catherine move below. While the Duke of Gloucester could not tear his eyes from the scene, his brother found much more entertainment in watching him, a small smirk on his lips. It satisfied him somewhat to see his brother bristle with jealousy, to see him seethe as his perfect Catherine payed homage to the Lancastrians she was meant to despise.

"See" He whispered, pouring his poisonous words into Richard's ear "Even now she clings to Lancaster" His smirk widened and he arched one dark eyebrow "Really brother....are you sure she loves you at all?"

꧁꧂

Westminster Palace....

Richard knew better than to listen to his treacherous brother, to pay no heed to his words of poison. It was something Edward had told him many times, something he'd told himself many times, but that night, no amount of telling could convince him.

George's words had ruffled him more than he cared to admit, had pricked his jealousy to the brink of boiling with a few whispered words. He almost hated himself for it but the anger and suspicion that simmered in his veins would not be quelled.

Catherine was seeing there son to bed, he knew, but was usually took a mere half hour seemed an eternity to him. An eternity of waiting, staring into the flames of the hearth while he held a goblet of wine in his hand. Not a drop was drunk.

When he finally heard the door open and shut behind him, he flinched, listening to the soft patter of Catherine's footsteps as she padded towards him. She tried to slide her arms around his middle but he moved, swiftly, coldly away from her, causing her to frown.

"Dickon?"
He sat down on their bed, watching her linger before the fire, her figure illuminated by the flames.

"Do you love him?"

Her eyes flicked to his, confused and somewhat shocked but she needed no elaboration to figure out of whom he spoke.
"What?"
"Do you love him?"

She scoffed, moving away from the fire to their bed and beginning to tug back the covers.
"Richard of York, I never took you to be a jealous man" She murmured "why does it matter?" He clenched his jaw, hands fisting themselves in the sheets beneath. 'Are you sure she love you at all?' George's words tormented him.

"It matters because you, Cate, are my wife" He bit out through gritted teeth "and I love you. He said he loved you too but do you love him?" She sucked in a sharp breath, hesitating only a moment before she shook her head.
"No"
"Did you love him?"

This time she truly halted, sinking down onto the soft mattress beneath her with her back to him.
"In my own way" She replied, much to Richard's dismay.

"That is not an answer" He said, surprised when she suddenly gave an irritated cry and shot a glance over her shoulder at him.
"Well it is the only answer you shall get, my Lord!" She yelled, rising from the bed "As you said I am your wife and as your wife you are supposed to trust me but you cannot even trust my love for you! Even after everything that we have been through"

As she made for the door, Richard felt guilt stab at his heart and his feet automatically took him after her, reaching out to try and stop her.

"No....Catherine, wait" He pleaded, making her linger at the door "forgive me, sweetheart" She tilted her head to the side, turning to face him again "I am not an inherently jealous man" He continued quietly, now all sadness and contrition instead of anger "but when it comes to you....I love you so much I cannot bear the thought of having you taken from me. And when I saw how Lancaster looked at you, just as I look at you, I felt jealous. When he kissed you, I felt jealous. I feel jealous now...."

He flushed rather sheepishly, just as he used to do as a boy, and Catherine felt her heart soften when he carded a hand through his hair. Another childhood habit. Something had quite clearly happened to make him act so, she realised, for Richard would never doubt her unless he had been forced to do so by another.

Walking back across the chamber until she stood in front of him, she took his hands, smoothing her fingers over the rough skin of his palms.

"I meant it the first time I said it and I mean it now" She told him softly, tilting up her head to brush a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth "I love you, Richard Plantagenet, I love all of you and I always will. My adoration for you is the same adoration flowers hold for the sun, undying and unyielding. Without you, I cannot grow, I cannot live. I need you. You brighten my days as the sun does the sky and when you are low, my day turns to night. You are my light, Richard. You are my home"

His eyes brightened and it was only a moment before he had gathered her soft body into his embrace, crushing her lips beneath his.
"Damn me for listening to George" He whispered, feeling her smile against him at that.
"You of all people know that is never a wise thing to do, Dickon"