~To be With a York~

Nottingham Castle....

Catherine's breathing was steady as she slept on the bed that she had been placed in upon her arrival at Nottingham Castle. Ever since becoming unconscious in her gardens at Haddon, she had not woken and lay atop the covers in deep sleep, hands placed atop her gown; golden hair placed neatly upon the pillows.

The morning light shone through the large windows of the chamber, golden rays cascading onto the velvet covers, onto her as the curtains were drawn back. She did not dream, her mind was clear of all but darkness but a peaceful one that kept her in peaceful sleep. Until, the morning light struck her face and her porcelain skin was encased in an amber glow that awakened her to the world.

Her eyelids flickered, face turning away from the light so that she might catch a few moments of sleep but sleep escaped her and her memory was suddenly captured by the events of the previous day. When she had been torn mercilessly from her home....

Eyes snapping open, she forced herself from the covers, groaning at the stiffness that made her limbs ache torturously.

Fear rose within her each second, rising to the brim of her pounding heart as she looked around the unfamiliar chamber she was in. No Agnes....no Georgie....no servants she knew, just an empty chamber, luxuriously furnished that was empty of every soul but her. Nottingham castle, she assumed and an urge to flee filled her, forcing her tingling legs into movement, to jump down from the bed.

The wooden door just a few feet away seemed to beckon to her, calling her to the golden handle it held, one she she ran to, grasping the metal with urgency. Twisting it back and forth, it was not long until she realised it was locked and began to pull with insistence, trying with all of her frail strength to make the door give way. It did not, holding fast under its lock until Catherine let go with a defeated sob she had been trying to repress.

'Again' She thought in despair, slumping back against the wall with a mind spinning with disbelief. Again she had been taken against her will by strangers, moved around like a piece on a chess board where she had no power. She was just a pawn when she wished to be a Queen, then she would have power, then she could lead a life that she had some choice in. After all, some was better than none, wasn't it?

Catherine jumped at the rattle of a key in a lock came from the other side of the door and the heavy wood swung open just moments later to reveal a glistening figure. Dressed in robes of cloth of gold, adorned with rubies and wearing a crown, a flaxen haired man strode into the chamber, panicked surprise filling his piercing blue eyes as the girl he had come to see suddenly fainted before him.

It was too much for her young mind to comprehend.
A forced removal from all she knew and the sudden arrival of a man nearer an angel than a mortal man was the final straw to her mind. As her legs gave way, and her vision darkened, a pair of strong arms caught her before she could hit the floor, sweeping her upwards.

Her face was brushed against soft fur and, in her confused daze, Catherine instinctively snuggled against it, one hand grasping at the smooth velvet it found.

"There now, douce fille" A soft, yet deep, voice told her as she was moved, her back gently colliding with the warm covers she had left only moment ago "Fucking hell what have they done to you?" The voice said again and she knew those blue eyes were watching with concern as her head lolled against the pillows "I told them to be gentle"

"Gentle" She murmured, only just capable of forming a response that was not slurred beyond recognition "I don't think those brutes know the word" The man in the crown grinned and as Catherine's vision began to focus she realised it was King Henry's crown he wore upon his head "Henry...."

"Edward" The man corrected, slight amusement to his voice before he called for water, yelling for any servant nearby before returning his attention to her. "King Edward in fact" He chuckled and Catherine's eyes widened, at last recognising the boy turned man who had visited his dead brother one winter's night over three years ago.

"Edward...." She refused to speak his title, she always had done, ever since he had taken it. 'Stolen it' She would snap whenever George tried to induce her to pair 'King' with the name 'Edward'. She would concede in addressing him as 'his grace' for as far as she was concerned he was the rightful heir to the dukedom of York and therefore deserved to be called as such.

But King, he would never be to her.

"Where am I, your grace?"
Edward smiled, gently brushing her hair away from her face.

"Nottingham Castle, Lady Percy" He answered and the thought suddenly struck her that he had not called her Lady Bergavenny, her title, who she was....

And then, like the toll of a death bell that weighed heavy on all who heard, she remembered....she was no longer Lady Bergavenny. George was no longer her husband. She was alone in the world again.

"You annulled my marriage" Edward nodded, his expression void of any sign of regret "Why?"

"I have another use for you" He explained with a nonchalant shrug before he noticed the instantaneous fear that filled Catherine's eyes and took her hand "Do not fear, Lady Percy. You cared for my brother, did all you could to save him even though he was your enemy. I am in your debt for that, I would never mistreat you. My family does not mistreat little girls"

"Your cousins contradict that statement" She snapped, pulling her hand from Edward's at the reminder that he was in fact close friends to the Nevilles that had taken her.

His Mother was one of them....just as her grandmother had been. Still, she thought, that did not matter now, what mattered was the truth and she had learnt to demand it very pointedly "So, who am I to be sold to?" She asked, almost smiling at the surprise that registered on Edward's face "What is it, your grace? I have come to learn that I have no power in this world and if you have annulled my marriage the only reason for you to do that would be if you have found one that has more advantages for you"

"You're bold" He murmured, almost impressed by the young girls forthrightness. He knew he had chosen right "But you are correct, my Lady, I have found another marriage for you. One that I think would be advantageous to us both"

Catherine arched one fair eyebrow, the maturity within her coming to the forefront at the offer her had presented.
"Advantageous to us both?" She echoed, almost sarcastically "Do elaborate, your grace. I may have no choice in the matter but I should like to know the facts of the new reality I am to be given"

"And I believe you are entitled to that" Edward replied with a short nod "You were raised to expect the best were you not?" A short nod of her own answered him.
"I even believe you were meant to marry Marguerite of Anjou's son at one point were you not?"

Another nod.

"Well. You are the daughter of an Earl, a daughter of one of the most powerful families in England and descended from my Mother's Neville side. As King I need to make England united again, forge alliances between families through marriage and when I saw your care for my brother three years ago, I knew that you would suit that alliance. I sought the dispensation long ago and the Pope willingly granted it!"

"So who am I to marry?" She asked, disregarding any idea of the chivalrous alliance Edward had conjured in his York mind. This was no act of chivalry, this was another move in the ever changing game of politics and she would be made to obey. Just like last time.

However, unlike Warwick who seemed to take joy in snarling at her with all his mustered malice when he told her she was to marry, Edward merely smiled. He rose to his feet, towering above her even taller than she remembered, offering a large hand to meet her small one.

"Why don't you come and meet him?"

With a small frown of suspicion, Catherine took the hand extended to her, too weary to attempt disobedience, and allowed Edward to lead her through the open door to a stone hallway, lit with torches. It was not well furnished like the palaces and castles she had previously attended but there was an ornate wooden bench to one side and on that bench, was a boy.

He looked a stern little thing, sitting on his hands with his lips settled decidedly into a frown; eyes turned to the stone beneath him. The boy sat stone still, keeping his feet planted firmly upon the floor and his shoulders hunched over in a brooding manor. He did not appear rude or standoffish, he simply seemed serious, deep in thought perhaps?

"Little brother?"

The boy looked up, his eyes lighting with happiness as he saw the King and Catherine's jaw dropped. This was no strange nobleman! This was the boy who had comforted her on her wedding day, the young blue eyed boy who had given her hope when she had none! Words left her mouth before she even thought to speak them.
"Dickon?!"

"Catherine?" The boy exclaimed when his gaze flicked to her, clearly equally as shocked with this revelation while Edward simply laughed, watching the pair with apparent amusement.

"Now I see why you didn't shut up about her at Ludlow" He quipped, looking at his little brother "If you could only see your little face now, lad!" He snorted to himself "if only George could see it!" Dickon glared at him.

"Oh stop playing matchmaker" He hissed "You're pretty shit at it when you try!" Catherine gawked, unused to such language which only served to make the King laugh more!

"Watch it young Dickon!" He warned, wagging a finger "Or George truly will hear of this! And perhaps your beloved cousins too!"

"Oh, go and find your whores, Ned!" Dickon snapped back, clearly irritated, though Catherine could see the adoration in his eyes when he looked at his brother. This was a man she could easily see the boy worshipping, she decided, smiling a little at the image her mind conjured.

"So this is who I am to marry?" She breathed and Edward smiled, nodding and quite clearly pleased with himself.

"The Duke of Gloucester!" He declared "You are a girl of high rank, Catherine, you were raised to expect the best and now you shall have it! You shall be a royal Duchess!" With wide eyes she stared up at him, her lips parting while his rather smug smile grew, partly fearing that this was a cruel joke Warwick had set up to play on her.

"Are you here to mock me?" She asked, flinching when Dickon appeared at her side, placing a hand on her arm. She was not used to such gentle contact from strangers.

"No one is here to mock you, my lady" He told her softly and she realised with a sharp pang that he remembered those words from when she had spoken them on her wedding day "We would never mock you"

Hesitantly, she nodded, watching as Dickon removed his hand and clasped it behind his back with his other.
"Perhaps you should give Lady Catherine a tour of the grounds?" Edward suggested, craning his neck to glance out of the nearest window "The weather is fine and you can aquatint yourselves with one another.... again"

"Of course" His little brother agreed, eager to please the golden figure in front of him "If you agree, my Lady?" She only frowned slightly, tilting her head a little the question "is.....is everything alright?" Her frown deepened.

"Indeed, my Lord only...." She hesitated "I am not used to being asked permission for things. Georgie always did but...."

"Warwick did not" Edward finished and she nodded, noticing the sympathy that gleamed in his eyes, replacing the self satisfaction a little "Go to the gardens anyway, I think you shall like them!" Catherine could only nod as he walked away, bobbing a small curtsy.

She had not felt as disoriented as she did then in many a year and she continued to frown slightly, unsure of where to go or what to do. Within two minutes she had learnt she was to be married, was to be a Royal Duchess....but to a York boy. A kind one from her experience, yes, but a York boy all the same. What would her Prince Edward think when he heard, she wondered, touching a hand to the font of her bodice where his ring lay.

Surely, she could not betray him in this way! He had made a promise before God and so had she in her mind, and yet, despite that, she knew she had as little choice in this as she did in her first marriage.

Twice a bride by eleven.
At least that was not an achievement many could say they had accomplished!

With trembling hands fisted in her skirts, she turned to the boy beside her, eyeing him nervously. His expression had returned to the one he had held while sitting on his bench, one of unreadable seriousness that was unclear if it showed displeasure or was simply him.

What if he was displeased by her?

Catherine looked down at the stinging thought. It was certainly a plausible one, to her mind at least. He was a young boy, a noble one at that and he had been told that he was to marry the daughter of his enemy. It was not exactly the most enticing situation, she could understand.

Oh how she wanted Georgie back! Her sweet, understanding Georgie who was like an elder brother to her, who would rather die then see her in harm's way! But she could not have him back and in her heart, she grieved her loss.

She knew she would cry that night.

"I'm sorry" She whispered softly and suddenly Dickon took a step forward, his eyebrows furrowing with innocent confusion as she looked up.
"For what, my lady?"
"For this" She gave a small shrug "You do not want to marry me, Dickon, I know that. I am your enemy and you are mine!"

She cast her eyes to the ground again, the same small feeling filling her as she used to endure when Warwick looked at her; a feeling of pure helplessness and sorrow. It was one she felt keenly and almost moved away when Dickon's hand appeared on her sleeve, his lithe arm slowly winding its way around her body until it was securely about her shoulders.

"Well, we both know that neither of us have any choice in the matter!" He admitted "But I am willing to be friends with anyone who does call me Dickon!"

꧁꧂

That evening, Catherine sat in her bedchamber, curled up in a chair by the fire with furs tucked around her  even though the weather had already melted into summer heat. The softness of the blankets gave her comfort, a cocoon of warmth that reminded her of her bed at Haddon Hall.

She didn't think she had ever wanted anything to much as to return there but doubted if she ever would. Would she ever even see Georgie again? Or Agnes? Would they forget her?

A tired sigh passed her lips, one of defeat as she thought over the day's events. Apart from her walk in the gardens with Dickon, she had done naught but sit in her chamber and cry until her eyes were sore and puffy. The York boy had been nice enough to her, courteous and caring as etiquette required him to be but apart from the small kindnesses he had shown her in the castle, he had been rather cold. Quiet.

He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes staring forward but not looking at the path ahead. He appeared to be in a trance of sorts, a dream, or perhaps a nightmare as she was sure she had seen his eyes fill with tears at one point.

He had changed, she realised, just as she had changed. Gone was the merry little boy that had happily climbed through her window to see if she was a witch, this was a different boy, a sombre one. 'That is what happens when one loses a Father and brother so young' She supposed, knowing the feeling of loss well enough to know it could change a person.

Dickon had been forced to grow, like she had been (although in rather different circumstances) and, she thought, if she could break through the shield of ice he presented, perhaps they could be friends, as he said? After all, it was not as if she had anything other to do than weep and he was to be her husband. To be enemies with him would not be wise. He may be a child but he was the brother of the King.

'For now' She thought, once more pressing a hand to where Prince Edward's ring lay below the layers of her bodice.

The sound of footsteps along the corridor alerted her and she suddenly moved from her seat, pushing her furs from her so that she could back into the farthest corner of the room. Her banishment to unfamiliar surroundings had clawed unwanted memories to the light and her mind told her it was Warwick, come to haul her back to Middleham castle where he would lock her in the Far Tower again.

Perhaps Dickon truly was displeased with her and had told his brother who had sent for his wicked cousin?

Her breathing quickened and her chest became tight, painfully so. As tears of panic filled her eyes she slumped to the floor, pressing her back against the stone wall of the chamber and cradling her knees to her chest, rocking herself back and forth.

"I should have done more to please him!" She wept, hiding her face in the skirt of her gown to escape from the world for one last precious moment until she was to be hauled back to her tower of torture "Please" She whispered fretfully as the footsteps got ever closer. "Please.....please....please" Her body trembled, she could not breathe her lungs burned, clawing for air as her breaths became quicker and quicker, almost useless "Please.....please....please....please...."

"Lady Catherine?"

She looked up, hardly daring to, only to see Dickon staring down at her, his eyes wide with a concern so unlike the coldness he had presented that morning. In that moment she could glimpse every expression on his face, every emotion swirling like an innocent storm on his young features as he dropped to his knees and stared at her "My Lady what is wrong?"

Catherine only shook her head, her throat too dry for her to speak and her mind reeling far too much for her to even comprehend words. Somehow, Dickon seemed to immediately understand, only needing to look once at her face to jump to his feet and pour her a goblet of wine from the silver pitcher nearby. Kneeling down once more, he offered it to her but Catherine instinctively shuffled away, her actions skewed by an all consuming fear that still denied air to her lungs.

Again, he seemed to understand, laying down the goblet by his side and holding his hands up as if to show he would not hurt her.
"You're safe, Catherine" He told her gently while she whimpered, hot tears streaming down her face "You are safe" He repeated but she only shook her head, clutching her knees tighter.

"Warwick...."
"Warwick is not here" He assured her gently, shuffling forward just a little bit "Warwick is far away in the North and he will not hurt you, I will not allow him to hurt you ever again, I promise. You are safe now, Catherine, nothing can hurt you...."

Catherine looked up at him, finally letting her eyes meet his, though her vision was blurred by tears "You are safe here" Dickon told her again and she felt a little of the air she craved enter her lungs "Warwick is not here, he is days....weeks away!" He nodded to reassure her while he shuffled closer again, his knees now touching the skirt of her gown "He will not hurt you. And nor will I, Catherine. I promise"

Moving closer yet again, Dickon reached out, ever so tenderly, closing his arms around her body and bringing her trembling figure against his, cradling her while whispering comforts into her ear "Breathe, Catherine. You are safe here, always safe. You will always be safe with me" She nodded against his doublet, automatically curling into him while he held her.

He stroked her hair, combing his fingers through the loose golden curls until her breathing returned to normal and all that was left were the stunted sobs that escaped her throat "Here" He offered at last, picking up the discarded goblet once more and helping her to take a sip.

The cold wine soothed her burning throat and she found herself drinking it eagerly, relishing each mouthful until the goblet was drained and she lay still in Dickon's arms. As the moments began to pass in silence she could feel her cheeks begin to burn an embarrassed red and sudden shame filled her heart.

This was no way for a Lady to behave, for a Percy to act in front of the enemy....

She made to rise but Dickon only tugged her gently back down again, making her lie in his arms "Do not be ashamed" He told her when he saw her red cheeks. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, especially when you are afraid....are you alright now, Lady Catherine?" 

Silently, she nodded, allowing herself to stare into his eyes, eyes like a stormy see, flicking from blue to grey in the candlelight.
"How did you know what to do?" She whispered and a small smile appeared on his lips, though she could tell it was one filled with sadness.
"It has happened to me too" He confessed "Ned or George comfort me....it's happened ever since Ludlow...."

"Ludlow?"
"Aye" He confirmed, suddenly moving to help her rise as if dwelling on the subject pained him "But now let us get you to bed, Lady Catherine" He kept his arm around her waist as he guided her to her feet, slowly turning her to face the bed before his hands reached for the laces of her gown. He hesitated "May I?"

Catherine nodded and felt his fingers attend to the task at hand, undoing the intricate laces until he could push the gown (and the kirtle underneath) from her shoulders, leaving her in her shift. Although he could see none of her, when she turned to face him she covered herself, crossing her arms across her chest.

That year, her breasts had begun to develop, small little points that she greatly resented for the pain that they caused her at the slightest knock. Still, she knew it was not proper for any man or boy to see her in her shift, let alone perhaps see the curves of womanhood forming upon her.

Richard grinned, flushing slightly and carding a hand through his hair in the way she remembered he did on the morning of her wedding to Georgie.
"Thank you, Dickon" She said before allowing him to help her climb beneath the inviting covers of her bed.