~The Yorks of England~

"Catherine....Catherine"
Catherine groaned, moving her head against the covers while her name was sobbed desperately from above her "Catherine....Catherine please"

She jerked awake, her hair a mess of loose curls around her shoulders and her eyes unused to the light that filled the room. Blinking profusely, her vision returned to normal and she was met with the sight of distraught Edmund, tears streaming down his face and his breathing laboured, more so than ever. His skin was red and blotchy, covered in sweat and the bandages on his arm soaked with blood.

"Catherine...." He wept again and she was instantly by his side, moving up the bed until she knew he could see her face. With deft fingers, she snatched a cloth from the bowl of cold water next to the bed and placed it on his forehead, taking comfort in the relived sigh that left his lips.

But still, he sobbed. He sobbed not like a man but a little boy, vulnerable and afraid and when their eyes met she was shocked to see they were identical to little Dickon's in terms of youth.

He looked like a child again.
"I'm dying, Catherine" He said, voice a trembling mess that made her heart ache with pity "I want Ned!" He cried, squeezing her hand "I want my brother, Edward!"
"I will send for him, I promise" She told him, not daring to confirm his thoughts of death, even though his skin was as grey as church stone from which death tolls chimed.

"Tell him, Cat" Edmund mumbled, eyes glassy with more tears "Tell him I love him as I do all of my kin. Tell him to care for our Mother and our brothers and sisters too....tell him I'm sorry that I've failed them"
Catherine shook her head determinedly, beginning to cry herself when she heard her nickname spoken on his lips. She had cared for him day and night for almost a week....she would not let him die. He could not die!

"You have not failed them!" She assured him quickly, tenderly smoothing away the damp hair that had fallen across his face "Now sleep....you need your rest so you do not fall unconscious"

With a trembling lip Edmund nodded, slightly more composed now as he moved with a grunt to settle his poor body again.
"I can breathe again now" He sighed, almost smiling a little "Now I have said what I need to, I can be at peace"

Catherine did not reply, she did not reply for a long while and Edmund feebly raised his head to see she was staring at the hand that was intertwined with his.

"It's cold" She whispered, her blue eyes flicking to his before she suddenly pressed a hand to his forehead and an overjoyed cry escaped her "By God, Edmund! Your fever! It's broken!" She was all smiles, giggling happily with all her might which made him chuckle "It's broken!" She exclaimed again before releasing his hand and rushing to the door.

Flinging it open she shouted at the top of her voice for her husband and in moments, loud footsteps pounding on the winding staircase answered her. George Neville threw himself over the threshold of his bedchamber, his eyes darting to the bed where his cousin lay and his wife stood by, smiling.

"His fever is broken!" Catherine said again and the young Neville Lord beamed, striding over to the bed and pulling Edmund into a relived (yet gentle) embrace that yielded his affection for the York boy.
"Thank God!" He breathed as he drew back, studying his cousin's face and the slight colour that was returning to his cheeks "So York has not lost more of its own after all!"

"It appears not!" Edmund grinned. He shook his head and weakly pulled his cousin into another hug, inviting Catherine over too who perched on the bed once more.
"I shall have cook give you some soup" She told him "I expect you shall be hungry!"
"I admit I am" The York boy replied, rather sheepishly, stomach rumbling beneath the covers and George laughed, almost skipping out of the room to see to the order.

The rest of the day was spent in merry delight, with Edmund propped up on his pillows, sipping the soup Catherine offered him while George repeatedly told him what a scare he'd given them! He read from The Canterbury Tales when Catherine demanded it, reading aloud the stories both she and Edmund wished to hear. The young girl sat by the York boy in bed now, as eager to ensure his health as she was for the silk covers she lounged on!

Every minute she looked for paleness in his skin, each second she felt his forehead to see if it was too hot. But it was normal. That night there was no need for cool rags or the windows to be flung open, a fire was lit in the hearth and merry laughter could be heard all around the hall! Edmund tired quite easily and drifted away into sleep once or twice but he always awoke once more, requesting a cup of water or a little more soup which Catherine was more than happy to oblige!

She changed the bandages on his arm and prayed that now his fever had broken the wound would begin to recover. After all, the stitches had stayed and were holding the flesh together which was good, she thought!

When it came for the Haddon to retire for the night, Edmund requested George and Catherine stay with him, to which they both readily agreed, George sleeping on the palate at the end of the bed and his wife beside his cousin. As soon as their heads hit the pillows they were sound asleep and the young girl floated away into her land of dreams with hope restored to her heart.

꧁꧂

The cockerel in the yard called the residents of Haddon awake the next morning, or at least, it woke Catherine. She listened to the colourful animal crow into the dawn as light filled the room, telling the world of a new day, one she was sure would bring glad tidings!

Her husband slept soundly at the foot of the bed, his gentle snores making her giggle behind her hand so she did not wake him. She breathed in the air of the room, smelling the sweet lavender she had collected and set out from her herb garden, relishing it. 'I shall wear lavender today' She decided happily, looking down at the blue gown she had worn day after day in her care of Edmund.

She turned to the York boy, reaching up to put her hand to his forehead when she suddenly snatched it back, in fear and in shock. A sudden cold spread throughout her small body, turning her blood to ice as if death himself had touched her.

Edmund's blue eyes were wide open, glassy and cold like those of a doll....'Or a corpse'  her mind whispered but she shook her head. His fever had broken....he had eaten and drunk.....he had been laughing and joking mere hours ago, his cheeks flushed with healthy colour. Now they were sallow, an alabaster white that scared her as she hesitantly brushed her finger against one.

It was ice cold.

Without warning, a small sob left her lips, causing her body to tremble while she shook her head again, over and over and over until she began to feel sick.
"This cannot be!" She whispered tearfully, taking Edmund's hand only to find it lay limp in her grasp, his arm as stiff as wood like the rest of his body "This cannot be!"

Those glassy blue eyes continued to stare up to the canopy of the bed, lifeless, his dark golden curls spread out around him; a halo for the angel he had become that night. Catherine shook her head one last time, slowly leaning forward to press a kiss to his cold forehead and, with one hand, gently closed his eyes.

"Sleep well, Edmund" She whispered.

꧁꧂

Two days later....

Side by side and dressed in black, Baron and Baroness Bergavenny stood by the bed of their dead York Prince who still lay beneath the covers of the Lord's bed. 

Dressed in one of George's doublets with his soft hair brushed by Catherine, he looked peaceful in death, eyes now closed and his hands resting on top of him. He looked like he was merely sleeping.
"I keep thinking he shall wake" Catherine whispered, the black veil over her face hiding the tears she shed, tears that had flowed relentlessly in the days that had followed Edmund's death.

Her eyes were red and puffy, unimaginably sore from the crying she had dealt them so that she could not even close them without pain but the girl did not care. She did not need sleep and she did not want it. There was something that told her Edmund still needed her, even in death, that she was needed by his side and although it was inexplicable, she took heed of this urge, watching over him as his very own guardian angel.

Throughout her childhood and even then, Catherine believed that it was impossible for Yorkists to pass through the gates of heaven and into God's paradise. They had gone against their anointed King, a man as good and as pious as a saint for which they would be condemned for all eternity.

While in the high tower, Catherine had often taken pleasure in imagining Warwick and his family in the fiery pits of hell, flames singeing their flesh and demons torturing them until they screamed and felt themselves as broken as she did. Long before that she had imagined the same fate for the Yorks too, picturing the Duke and his sons being devoured by Satan's punishing flames while King Henry and Queen Marguerite watched on from heaven, sitting by God's side.

She could not picture that now and, in fact, the mere idea of her imaginings made her weep all the more, leaning into her husband until he wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders.
"There there, my dearest Cat" He murmured but she was not to be comforted and continued to weep into the side of his ebony doublet.

Despite her hate of his family, she did not want Edmund to be burning in hell! To see the young man that lay dead on the bed before her being tortured as he had been before his death made her heart threaten to shatter and she prayed with all her might that it would not be so. She did not want Edmund to have hell's fire inflicted on him, she did not want him to suffer! She did not hate him and, in all truth, she was not even sure that she truly hated his family anymore.

Not that she would admit it.
All she wanted was to see was King Henry, Queen Marguerite and their son securely on their thrones where she might one day sit if Prince Edward's promise to her held true.

She did not think on the Prince now, nor the promise he had made, she simply wept, wept and prayed for Edmund's soul to ascend to heaven so he would be amongst the angels. For an angel he was and for him to be anywhere but heaven surely must not be right! It was where he deserved to be.....

"I met your Father at Wakefield....after the battle. He spared my life"
Catherine looked up at the sound of George's quiet voice.
"What?" She breathed and her husband took her hand, his eyes still trained on the lifeless boy laying on the bed before him.

"He could have killed me, he almost did but I showed him the ring you gave me, told him how I care for you and you for me and he chose to spare my life....he has the ring now"
"So that's why you have not returned it to me?" She asked softly and he nodded.
"He said that he would have something of yours and that the next time we met....he would kill me"

Catherine took in a sharp breath, gently detaching herself from her husband to wander over to the window, looking out into the dark courtyard below where torches flickered.
"Perhaps then my family will continue to fight for me now" She murmured "Now that Lancaster has won. They fought for me before and they will again"

Now it was George's turn to gasp, the secret he had kept for well over a year revealing itself to in fact be no secret at all.
"You know?" He exclaimed and she gave a slight nod.
"People talk. I found out soon after I arrived here. I heard of the battles in the North on and off your family's lands, how hard my Father fought for me and, in all honesty, I've always been surprised that you were not the one to tell me"

"I did not want to hurt you" He replied, coming to stand beside her "You never speak of your family, I thought it would only serve to hurt you"
"To talk of my family does hurt me, George" Catherine told him "but at least I still have hope. Hope that they will fight for me and one day I will be reunited"
"And I will be dead"

"No" She corrected stoutly "I will protect you as you have protected me"

꧁꧂

He came under the cover of darkness, a cloaked phantom in the night, alone on his horse that trotted under Haddon's portcullis. They had expected his arrival, George had written the day of Edmund's death once Catherine had told him of the dead boy's wishes, the promise she had made, and now, he was here.

Even in grief, Catherine could not deny that Edward of York looked a golden God as he walked through the door into the great hall where she waited with her husband. Dressed in black, his flaxen hair shone in the glow that emanated from the hearth; lighter than Edmund's, but a pleasing hue all the same, she thought.

His face was stern as he strode towards them, his imposing height becoming all the more intimidating the closer he got, prompting Catherine to take a step behind George for safety. Edmund had been kind, Dickon had been kind, but that did not mean every York was kind and until she knew this Edward of York, she would be wary of him, as she was of every stranger.

That was how it had been since her confinement in the far Tower.

As he came before the dais, George nudged her, prompting her into a curtsy while he bowed. Of course, she must curtsy, she told herself, or at least that was what her husband had told her a mere hour before. Edward of York had taken up the mantle of his Father's cause (as well as the title Duke of York) and would take the crown for his own, George said. A fierce warrior since just thirteen, with Neville backing, he was sure to win, he would be King and they must pay their respects.

"Lord and Lady Bergavenny" Edward greeted, his voice deep and suave to the ear. George smiled, moving forward into an embrace with his cousin that told of the close bond the two families shared.

"Ned" Catherine heard her husband murmur and the York smiled, patting him fondly on the shoulder when he pulled away.
"It's good to see you Georgie. Now, would you do me the honour of introducing me to your little wife I have heard so much about?"

George grinned and led the way, though it was not far, and within two strides both men were before Catherine, staring down at her while she peered up at them "You must be Lady Cathrine?" Again, she curtsied, keeping her eyes lowered to the ground.
"I am, your grace"
She could feel Edward smiling slightly and he caught her arm, gently raising her from her floor.

"You need not be so formal" He told her "I know that you have been through enough without having to curtsy to my every move and word" She smiled gratefully and accepted the small kiss he gave to the ring she wore with a prim nod "Please take me to my brother" He continued after a moment, his smile fading with hers as they were reminded of the reason of his visit.

"Of course" She whispered, tears pricking her eyes when she turned away and began to climb the winding staircase that led to her husband's rooms. George did not follow.

Catherine and Edward walked into the bedchamber in silence, their gazes immediately fixing on the body of the York boy that lay upon the bed. Without a word, his brother went to him, striding forward and almost collapsing by his side with a sudden sob that made Catherine jump. She had not expected to hear such a thing from a man that appeared as strong as he!

But as strong as he was, his sobs rose to the rafters, breaking free from his throat while his shoulders shook. He took Edmund's hand, intertwining the cold flesh tightly with his own, almost as if he was trying to warm it to life.
"Oh Eddie" Catherine heard him say "What have they done to you? My very own brother....what have they done?"

"I tried" She whispered fretfully "Truly I did! I stayed by his side and his fever broke....I thought he was going to live, I thought...."

"I know" Edward sniffed, wiping away his tears and standing once more, leaving his brother's hand lying limp on the covers. Blind, he stumbled away from the bed to the nearest window, throwing it open so that he could vomit into the courtyard below, retching with grief and the smell of blood that assailed his nose. Without thought, Catherine suddenly went to him, just as she would have done to his dead brother, placing one hand on his arm while the other rubbed his back in soothing circles.

The young Duke coughed, a cough that turned into an almost embarrassed laugh as he took the handkerchief from his belt and wiped his mouth with it "Thank you" He said but she only nodded, continuing to paint circles on the back of his doublet "I know you cared for Edmund; helped him through his last days"
"I did. He told me to tell you that he loved you and all of his family....how is your Mother, your grace?"

It was with a heavy sigh that Edward drew back into the room, leaving the window open behind him so that the winter breeze could linger upon his skin. He liked the cold, unlike some, it reminded him of battlefields and of war, the things he had always known, his reality. Only now, that reality had taken his Father, his brother, his Uncle and his cousin in one fell swoop, leaving his powerful Mother a mere shell of herself.

"She mourns my Father more than I knew any woman could mourn a man" He said and Catherine nodded, prompting him to continue. Edward had never before spoken these words, not to Warwick, not to his siblings, not to any. It would make him appear weak, he had been told but now, with this little girl by his side, he did not feel weak and spoke because of it "And I mourn him too....although I mourn my dear brother more" He glanced over to the bed, one more solitary tear gliding down his cheek "He was a part of me, we grew together at Ludlow and now....."

"Now he watches over you from heaven" Catherine told him soothingly, making Edward smile down at her before drawing her into an embrace that was as unexpected as it was tender. He hugged her small body to his, cradling her head against his chest while he began to cry once more "You are sweet, Catherine" He told her. "Just as sweet as Dickon said and when I am King....I will not forget the kindness you have shown my family; my poor brother"

Catherine only nodded, wrapping her slender arms around his waist and willing him to heal.

Only in healing, she knew he would take the crown.