~What a Cruel thing to do, to Part me from You~

March 1461, Haddon....

When the news came that her Father was dead, Catherine did at first not believe it. She stared at her husband (newly returned from the Towton battlefield) with grief stricken eyes. Henry Percy had been killed, struck down in the bloodiest battle ever to be fought upon English soil with the Yorks claiming victory.

Revenge for Wakefield, some said.

She shook her head, just as she had when she had found Edmund dead that cold winter's morning.... shaking it over and over again until George tried to take hold of her.

Catherine pushed him away with a sudden sob, stumbling towards the fire that blazed brightly in her bedchamber hearth.
"It cannot be true!" She yelled, clinging to the tapestry that adorned the wall "it cannot be true!"

"It is" George murmured, trying to step closer again but his wife moved away, shoving past him to the window where she stared out into the courtyard. How often had she done the same as she did now? Stared out of the diamond shaped glass panes hoping that she would see her family colours, her Father. Her shoulders shook and a shallow breath past her lips.

He could not be dead!
He was strong, a warrior, an Earl who did nothing but fight for his King and Queen....

"It cannot be" She whispered to herself "He will come for me....he will come" Her thoughts suddenly turned to her Mother, now a widow, to her brother, now a twelve year old Earl "Oh my poor dear Hal....my brother. If only...." Her thoughts suddenly turned to anger, to hatred, the long lit fire that had smouldered in her hatred for the Neville now burning brighter than ever.

If they had not taken her she would not be at Haddon, she would be at Alnwick. If they had not taken her she would not be married, she would be free. If they had not taken her....she would be able to comfort her Mother.

If they had not taken her, she would have seen her Father again.

If they had not taken her then her Father's face would be more than a handsome blur that escaped her, one that would only focus when she dreamt and sometimes even then it would not work. She was forgetting, like all young children did and now, she would not have a chance to remember.

A sudden bolt of rage made her shudder, made tears stream down her cheeks, hot and stinging, blurring her vision, blurring the image of the man she turned upon.

"You" She hissed, pointing accusingly at George who stared at her with pure sympathy "If you and your kin had not taken me then I would be at Alnwick now, comforting my Mother and my brother while they comforted me!" Again, she shook her head, the anger in her voice fading away to uncontrollable weeping.

Her legs shook and her arm fell to her side as she collapsed to the floor in a silken heap "I want my Mother" She sobbed, hiding her face in her hands, crying out the same words she had whispered the night the Nevilles had taken her "I want my Mother!" She said again and suddenly George was at her side, kneeling down and taking her gently into his arms.

Catherine clung to him, despite her words just moments ago, her fingers curling into his doublet so she was pressed against him, as safe as she could be.
"Shh" He told her gently as she continued to weep against his shoulder, her grief for her Father overwhelming her.

"He fought for me" She whispered, her voice muffled "He fought for me and...." Her voice hitched, dissolving into another sob "And I never got to say goodbye"

꧁꧂

May 1464, three years later, Haddon Hall....

"Did you know that today marks the fifth year that Georgie and I have been married?"

Agnes smiled from under her straw sun hat at the chirping of the eleven year old that was knelt beside her in the herb garden. It had indeed been five years since her Master and Mistress were married, five years since she had met her little ray of sunshine called Catherine and five years since she had found her new purpose in life.

But how much had happened in the past three! Just three months after Edmund of York had met his desolate end, his brother Edward had successfully claimed the crown, finally securing the throne for the house of York. Unusually Catherine had stayed silent when it had been announced at Haddon, neither smiling nor frowning at the news. She simply toyed with the ruby ring she wore about her neck on a golden chain.

Agnes new she could not have been pleased, for all her affection for the late Edmund and her slight liking for the youngest York boy, Catherine Percy was still a Lancastrian to her very soul. Really, if one was to carve open her chest, they would find a red rose in its place, she was that devoted!

In the young girl's mind, she was determined to see her true King and Queen restored to the throne, her Prince. Once out of sight of her servants and her husband, she had wept upon her bed, mourning the ascension of Edward of York to the throne; how he had so ably taken the crown and the people seemed to love him for it! Did they not love King Henry, she wondered, King Henry who was so gentle and pious she did not know how he could not be adored!

Her only comfort was to know that Edmund would be happy if he had been on earth to see his brother crowned, especially when word came that Warwick had been the one to all but raise Edward to the throne! 'Yet another thing that man has taken from me' She would think bitterly, night after night, for after King Henry and Queen Marguerite the throne was supposed to be hers! Hers and Prince Edward!

It was her dream, the one thing she had clung to for true hope and belief and now another was to sit on the Queen's throne; a French Princess it was said in 1463.

Now it was 1464, and while the young girl could not be happy with the man she was meant to call King, nor his family, she sated her anger with the idea that one day Lancaster would return. One day, her Edward would make her his wife and Queen!

Catherine knelt upon the ground with her hair pulled back into a plain plait, the pearl-encrusted caul that had previously held it laid to one side on the lush carpet of green grass. Her delicate hands picked the little sprigs of lavender from the dirt, lifting them to her nose where she smiled at the pleasing scent that gentled her to sleep at night.

"I should have bought him a gift" She murmured and Agnes chuckled to herself, her old eyes sweeping over the garden around them, a captivating oasis of blooming buds.
"Why not some flowers?" She asked and Catherine's eyes lit up in agreement.
"Flowers! Of course!" She exclaimed, gathering her skirts and suddenly dashing off into the garden without even bothering to pick her caul back up once more!

Around and around the garden she searched under the care of the bright sun, searching each flower bed and border for the best blooms that she could give to George. He had given her so much, she knew, he had taken care of her, protected her, been there kindest soul she could ever have imagined! George Neville was the best husband she could have hoped for and she wanted to try and give something back.

Catherine's smile grew when she spied a bush of white roses, their petals soft and inviting as she went to touch them. These would more than do, she thought! Taking up the small pair of shears Agnes had leant her for the garden, she began to cut the pure flowers from their bush, collecting a bouquet of them until she was satisfied. Holding up the delicate blossoms to the light, she smiled but upon looking to the stems her heart knew that there was something missing.

Just a little something.

"I know" She whispered to herself and swiftly pulled the blue ribbon from her hair, shaking her plait free before tying the silk around the roses stems, pulling it into a neat bow "There!" She declared and set off in search of her husband, skipping through the gardens with her white roses in hand and then, prick.

Catherine flinched, halting on the spot, as one of the thorns drove itself into the tip of her finger. Her blue eyes looked down, widening at the bead of blood that blossomed onto her skin as she pulled the thorn from it. The thick liquid slid down her finger and into the palm of her hand, a crimson trail that mesmerised her.

It was fascinating in a way, to watch the very thing that gave her life escape her body so easily, fall from her hand and onto the grass; disappearing into the dirt. She took in a breath of air, wiping her hand upon a nearby lead before she set off once more on her mission. Picking up her cerulean skirts, she weaved through bushes, her pace quickening and her smile widening as she allowed the feeling of youth she rarely felt to take hold for a moment.

To be a child was a strange sensation for her and when she came into the view of the servants in the courtyard she immediately slowed to a walk. She acknowledged their bows and curtsies with her usual merry nod and made her way into the stables where she was almost certain George was to be. He often spent his time with their horses, petting and grooming them before taking them out for a hunt.

She was right, of course, and quickly hid the roses behind her back when she approached, smiling at the whinny of welcome the horse George was with gave her. He was dressed simply, as he mostly was when not at a formal event, garbed in his brown jerkin with his shirt underneath. When at home, he did not see the point of the noble trappings and chains his cousins took delight in wearing each minute of the day!

Comfort was his goal and he achieved it, looking up easily as his wife approached.

"Buttercup is well, I trust?"
"She is'" He replied with a grin, affectionately rubbing the mare's nose while he fed her a carrot "And even happier now that you are here!" Catherine giggled and stepped forward, peering up at her husband from beneath her sandy lashes with eyes full of mischief.

"I have something for you, Georgie!"

The young man looked down, tilting his head in the endearing way he had always done when he talked to her.
"And what might my little wife had for me?" He asked, his voice holding an edge of jest as he stepped forward to meet her properly "For I think I might know what the occasion is"

Catherine nodded and brought forth her bouquet from behind her, holding out the roses with a pleased grin on her face. George beamed at her, chuckling with delight as he took the flowers and inhaled the sweet scent emanating from them.

"Tis our fifth wedding anniversary!" She said merrily and he nodded, leaning forward to give her a small kiss on the cheek as thanks.
"I know! I don't think either of us shall ever forget that day! It's impossible!"
"Simply impossible!" She affirmed before squealing as he swept her off her feet and onto his shoulder, carrying her out of the stables as if she were as light as a feather.

"Now for your gift!" He declared.

꧁꧂

"I love it!" Catherine cried, holding up the damask silk that George had given her to fashion into a gown. It was beautiful, a light lavender hue she adored with crescents and lions....the Percy emblems. She felt tears prick her eyes when she brushed a finger across the images, embroidered in black, satin thread "Beautiful" She breathed, turning to her husband and pulling him into a tight hug "thank you, Georgie!"

"It is no less than you deserve!" He replied, standing by to smiled at her excitement when she laid the damask out onto her bed.
"I shall have a fine gown made from it! With hanging sleeves that will be trimmed with white fur! It will be glorious!"

"I'm sure it shall" He agreed, watching Catherine dash to her dressing table and snatch up a handful of her necklaces, pressing each against the silk to see which one would suit it best.

The sudden clatter of horses hooves flooding into the courtyard disturbed her from her task. Placing down her precious jewels, she walked to the largest window and frowned at the sight of the soldiers that had so abruptly entered her home. Soldiers dressed in murrey and blue.

"The colours of York" She remarked and her husband nodded, taking her hand.
"Come" He said, pulling her from their bedchamber and through the winding corridors of Haddon Hall while the men in the courtyard dismounted from their horses with loud thuds; armour clanking.

"Why are they here, Georgie? What do they want?"
"I don't know" He answered, his voice unusually quiet as they made there way down the winding staircase to the great hall where some of the servants had gathered, worried looks upon their faces. Soldiers uninvited and unannounced were never the preface of glad tidings.

Together, the young Lord and his Lady strode out onto the front steps to face the new arrivals in their York liveries. They all carried swords by their sides and Catherine watched them warily, taking a step behind her husband as one of the party stepped forward, wearing a white rose pinned proudly to his chest.

"My Lord Bergavenny" He greeted, bowing low with his men "My Lady" The young girl simply stared at them, hardly daring to breathe as their unfeeling eyes fell upon her. She clutched Georgie's hand tighter, pressing herself to his side when she noticed the way they looked at her, they all looked at her.

They looked at her just like the Nevilles had looked at her at the Westminster feast, before they had taken her. She gulped and George looked down at her, a look of clear concern on his face.
"Are you well? Perhaps you should go inside?"

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but she may not go inside"

He looked up sharply as the leader of the soldiers spoke again, a flame of irritation flaring in his eyes.
"What?" He snapped and for once Catherine was glad for the commanding Neville tone that filled his voice.
"She may not go back inside" The soldier repeated and she began to tremble, a familiar coldness from her bleak days at Middleham filling her veins, creeping like icy fingers across her body.

And at that moment, she knew.
They were going to take her.

Fear gripped her, wrapping around her limbs like a vice so that she held George's arm even tighter, waiting for the soldier to continue. He did. "We are on the orders of King Edward to bring your Lady wife to Nottingham Castle" Her husband raised his eyebrows, placing a protective arm around her shoulders.

"Well if we must then I will take her, I am her husband after all!"

At that, the soldiers looked at one another uneasily and their leader drew a letter from the pouch on his belt, one that carried the royal seal of King Edward. He brandished it, passing it to George who all but snatched it from his hand, tearing the letter open and reading it. Within moments, the light of rage that burnt so bright suddenly left his eyes, quenched by the unexpected tears that pooled within them.

"It says...." He stumbled and Catherine shuddered, peering upwards to try and read what the letter said, only able to see the signature at the bottom of the page that read 'Edward Rex' "It says that as of tomorrow, we are no longer man and wife....he has annulled our marriage" The paper fell from his hands and Catherine shook her head, breathing in a sharp gasp of disbelief.

Their marriage could not be annulled, it couldn't! George was the only constant in her world, George was the man who kept her safe....protected her and cared for her with all his heart. Without him, she had nothing, she would be plunged into the world of uncertainty where she had suffered at such a young age and never ever forgotten....she could not go back to that. She would not go back to that.

Brought on by her fear, a thought suddenly struck her. One as harsh and as cruel as her reality had proved it could be and one she found easy to believe, though it caused her unimaginable pain.

What if King Edward sent her back to Middleham?

The nightmarish thought sent her senses reeling and an overwhelming feeling of sickness overcame her, making her lean against the doorframe with one weak hand to her chest. What if that thought, the one that she had dreaded for the past five years and appeared in her dreams like a demon coming to tear her from her place of safety, came true?

It was well known that Warwick was the one that controlled the King, he was the one who controlled the politics of England and stood behind the success of Edward's throne. If he wanted something, he would have it and if....if he wanted her again, if he had found another purpose for her, another marriage....then she was surely doomed.

She could not do it.
She could not be his pawn again.

She was still young, still helpless in the way of physical strength....but she knew more of the world, her time locked away had forced her to grow and now she was free she would never go back to that.

She would never return to the Far Tower.

"No!" She cried, abruptly turning on her heels to run, picking up her skirts and dashing through the hall with reckless abandon, much to the shock of the soldiers and all who watched. George called after her but she payed his pleading voice no heed, the sound of metal clanking against metal as the King's soldiers came for her, making her run on.

She ran to the garden, pushing open the door that led to her paradise and dashing out into the rows of green that she thought may just provide an escape from her. This garden was her safe haven, the place she had spent her happiest days in the past five years. Years that were now over, that she was to be cruelly torn from.

Catherine could not breathe nor speak, she could hardly even see, her vision swimming uneasily as she stumbled through the never ending rows of bushes and trees that surrounded her. The ominous clank of metal drew ever closer, the voices of shouting men, raising up and making her flinch with every syllable.

They could not take her! They would not take her! She would not let them!

Her heart began to pound, beating in her chest while her chest tightened, like a strip of cloth was being tied painfully around it, squeezing and squeezing until she felt she could scream. Her limbs trembled, her legs threatening to give out beneath her but she forced herself to continue, branches and twigs pulling at her hair as she swayed dangerously into her surroundings.

Until she reached the high wall that had once secured her but now barred her from escape.

Blue eyes glanced upwards, taking in the red brick that had filled her gaze so many times, the brick that Prince Edward had so easily scaled but she had no chance of that, none at all.

"In the name of the King, halt, Lady Catherine!"

The young girl spun around and her eyes filled with fear. Soldiers surrounded her, just a few feet away from where she stood, and she stumbled back, pressing her back firmly against the brick wall. They looked menacing, ten or twelve warriors clad in armour with the white rose adorning it. She knew she never been so afraid, not ever, not even when the Neville brothers had taken her.

At least then she was asleep at first. Now she knew she was to be taken and could feel her heart threatening to break free from her body and shatter on the ground. With slow, calculated steps, the soldiers all began to advance at once, threatening ghouls that made her want to run but all she could do was press herself against the wall harder and harder.

"Cat! Cat!" A shrill voice suddenly screamed, agonisingly desperate yet one Catherine immediately recognised. Agnes. True to her instinct, when she looked up, the old woman was running towards her, grey hair free from her sun hat and tears streaming down her face.

The soldiers turned towards her two moving forward so that crashed into them when she tried to reach the young girl, tried to push through their armoured figures "Cat!" She yelled again, her voice dissolving into a sob "Please don't take her! Don't take her away!"

"We have to!" The leading soldier said, his voice harsh and gruff "Tis the King's orders!"
"Oh damn them! Let me to to my girl!"

Using all the strength she had, Agnes pushed one of the men holding her out of the way, shoving him backwards, only to cry out in pain as the second struck her across the face, sending her frail body to the floor.
"No!" Catherine screamed, breaking free from her place against the wall to try and get to her dearest friend who lay groaning upon the ground, cradling the injured side of her face.

But there was no hope and with her movement, came her room.

Just like a pack, of blood hungry wolves, a swarm of demons from hell come to capture her soul, the soldiers descended. When she was just an arm's length away, unfamiliar hands suddenly grabbed at her, taking hold of her arms, her hair, grabbing her waist and wrenching her back from her companion while Agnes pleaded for her to be let go.

"She's just a baby!" She cried as Catherine began to struggle and terror drove through her heart like a heated knife, cutting through her body with a practiced ease. As she began to wrestle with the hands that held her, her mind suddenly flashed back to the night the Nevilles had taken her. The same unimaginable fright filled her, the same sickness, the same tears filled her eyes; began to stream down her cheeks.

A rag was placed firmly over her mouth, one smelling as foul as the ones the Nevilles had brought and that was when she screamed. A strangled noise tearing from her throat, accompanied by hot tears that streamed down her face; a river of desperate fire.
"Please" She sobbed when her body forced itself to inhale, the liquid on the rag making her head spin and her feeble strength begin to fail her.

Just like it had done before.

Another sob tore from her lips while she pleaded, begged, her vision beginning to darken as she still struggled, twisting and flailing her limbs. Still, those rough hands held her down, fully awakening the nightmare of so many years ago.

"Please" She cried, one last time before her body failed her fully and she was snatched into a tormenting darkness.