~With our Tails Between our Legs~

October 1470, the Tower of London....

"Ah! I have you, Princess!"

Little Mary squealed with laughter as she was lifted from the floor by her Aunt, becoming the first of the children running about the Queen's bedchamber to be caught by her capable hands.

The chamber was aglow with light from candles burning bright upon the long table, illuminating the remains of their supper. The Queen and Margery sat by the roaring fire, cooing affectionately over baby Johnny while he slept, content from his latest feed. They often gathered thus in an evening, without pomp or ceremony, simply the warmth of companionship.

Away from the court and it's many rules, such closeness was easy and it drew their mind away from war a little. Three weeks they had held residence in the Tower and three weeks they had tried to filled their waking hours with something other than worry. The distinct knot of unease had tied itself in each of their stomachs and even as she played with the children, Catherine could feel it within her.

Setting Mary down on her feet with a grin, she let the little Princess run free once more before she sought the others. Henry and Cecily had squirrelled themselves beneath the Queen's grand bed, their little faces peeking out while Catherine pretended to hunt for them. Lizzie hid behind one of the heavy velvet curtains, laughing when her Aunt spotted her and began to chase her around the long trestle table.

"You cannot run from me, Lizzie!" Catherine called, hoisting her skirts a little higher to run while the girl giggled, quickly hiding behind her Mother's chair.
"I surrender! I surrender!" She cried, gasping for breath while her Elizabeth laughed, applauding her friend's victory.

"It seems you have won, Cat!" She chuckled, lifting little Cecily onto her lap when the girl emerged from her hiding spot "And well done to you!" Henry soon joined her, clambering up onto the table bench to snatch at a half eaten piece of bread. Stuffing it into his mouth, he grinned, chewing happily before he hopped down and toddled across the tiled floor to the hearth.

"Mama! Look!" He demanded, holding up what remained of his prize for his Mother's inspection. She smiled, reaching down to ruffle his hair and watching his little feet patter back and forth where he stood. He could never stay still, she thought with a grin, he was like his Father in that!

Suddenly, a fist hammered at the chamber door and all eyes darted towards it, widening at the almost deafening pound.
"Catherine...." Elizabeth began but the Duchess had already swept towards the door and turned the heavy key in its lock, jumping back as the wood swung open.

"Thomas? Richard?" She exclaimed, watching as the two Grey boys rushed inside, their faces muddy and fine cloaks torn. Quickly shutting the door, she took in their dishevelled appearances with a degree of concern. "What are you doing here?" Their expressions were weary, their eyes filled by urgent worry, telling a tale of woe without one word being spoken.

"My boys!" Their Mother gasped, rising from her seat as quickly as she could with her swelled belly. A frown settled on her face and she strode across the chamber, taking each of her sons into her arms "What is it? What has happened? Where's Edward?"

"He's safe, Mother" Thomas replied, sighing with relief at the sight of the wine pitcher on the table and pouring himself a cup. He drank with great, deep gulps, like a man parched and he looked to his brother to continue.

"Warwick landed in the North, as the King expected" Richard explained hurriedly, glancing out of the nearby shutters as if he were expecting to see someone in the courtyard below "But when we were at Doncaster, his brother took us by surprise...."
"John?" Catherine exclaimed, ushering the children towards Margery "Why? What has he done?"

The two brothers exchanged worried looks.
"He betrayed us. Declared for Warwick in the dead of night" Thomas replied, refilling his cup a second time only to drain it within moments "We were unprepared..."

"The King has escaped to Flanders" Richard interrupted and a gasp went around the room, followed by a pang of danger that struck at each of their hearts "With his brother Richard and Uncle Anthony...."

"My God!" Catherine exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. No, it could not be true! Richard and Edward would fight and they would win....they could not have fled in the dead of night. They could not be on foreign soil, forced to flee with their tails between their legs like traitors. Beneath her bodice, her heart began to pound, sending her mind reeling and her blood rushing through her veins at an alarming rate. Again, she shook her head "W-what of George?" She asked quickly, barely able to breathe "Did he rejoin Edward?"

"We weren't ready to fight!" Thomas said "We had to flee so quickly that there was no battle!"
"We still don't know where his loyalties lie" His brother finished and Elizabeth's frown deepened, one ringed hand coming to rest protectively atop her belly.

"Is Edward still King?"

Immediately, all eyes flicked to the two tired brothers but the question was only followed by a cold silence, one that made Catherine shiver. Again, silence told truth and Thomas shook his head, grimly, slowly.

"We will not be protected" Elizabeth whispered, the panic in her voice all too clear as she looked to her daughters that played happily by the fire, oblivious to the few moments that had changed their lives forever.

They were innocents as was baby Johnny, who Margery held protectively to her chest, and Henry too....but that would matter little in the eyes of Warwick. That was a fact they knew all too well. Each drop of York blood was a threat to his cause and Elizabeth was right, they would not be protected, not for one more moment. They would be hunted like foxes by hounds, chased until exhaustion took them and traitor's hands tore them to pieces.

"We are in great danger" Catherine whispered "We do not even know where Warwick is, we must...." A muffled commotion from below caught her attention and she rushed to the window, the sight of lit torches dancing before the Tower gates striking fear into her heart. Now she knew exactly where Warwick was for there was no mistaking his rough voice that travelled through the air, slipping through the panes of glass.

"He's here!" She cried, over her shoulder "There's no time! We must flee!"

"To sanctuary!" Elizabeth finished, snatching up her cloak from the bed, her eyes wide with a terror the young Duchess had not yet seen "Boys, carry all you can!" Her two sons sprung to action, gathering jewels, furs, anything and all they could carry; stuffing the objects into leather bags.

Throwing open a coffer, Catherine dragged out the children's heavy cloaks, rushing toward the fire and wrapping them tightly around their young owners.
"What is it?" Little Lizzie asked, trying to pull at her Aunt's skirts only to find her hand hurriedly pushed away.

"Just be good, my dear" Was all the reply she received until the air was pierced with baby John's little wail, making the panic around them all the greater. The clatter of men taking up weapons below resonated throughout the halls and Catherine shivered again as she wrapped Henry's cloak around his small body, kissing his forehead in an almost desperate manner that made the little boy frown.

"He's coming! George too!" Thomas cried as he looked out of the nearest window, his arms full to the brim with small chests and gowns "They're coming!" True to his word, the sound of marching men could be heard, their gruff voices, full of hatred weaving yet more terror into the air. Catherine looked around, at the Queen, at her children, at her son, John's small cry making her heart ache pitifully.

There were too many of them to escape unnoticed, she realised, and with Warwick already inside the walls, his serpentine eyes all seeing....they stood not a chance. Not unless sacrifices were to be made. Across the chamber, Elizabeth wrapped her cloak around herself, grabbing little Lizzie's hand in her own before she sought the servants passageway.

It would buy them little time, Catherine knew, but she also knew one thing that could be done that may afford them more....

Gathering Henry into her arms, she placed him on the bed and pressed a kiss to his hair before turning to the others, taking a deep breath.

"I will stay. I will distract them"

The friends about her froze, Margery staring at her in disbelief while Elizabeth gawped, shaking her head.
"No...." She breathed, striding up to her friend and taking her hands firmly in her own "No, Cat. You will not do that!"

"I must" Catherine replied firmly, forcing the courage she did not feel into her voice as they heard the white Tower door break below. The traitors were inside. There was no time "I am of Lancaster!" She said hurriedly, beginning to pull Elizabeth towards the servants door and ushering the Princesses along with her "They will not harm me! And if they do they will have the entirety of the Lancastrian court to answer to!"

She did not know weather her words were true, weather the blood of the red rose that ran through her veins would protect her but it was all she had to offer as reassurance. For Elizabeth and for herself. With Richard away, all natural brightness in the world had vanished so she knew she must conjure her own to light her way lest she be devoured by the darkness surrounding her.

"I will run" She said quickly, throwing open the door and watching the Grey brothers begin to descend the steps, the three Princesses by their side "I will distract them. Take Margery with you...."

"No!" Margery cried, trying in vain to hush her crying babe only to find her Lady push her firmly from the chamber and into the torchlit passageway.
"I will not see you nor your son harmed! Go, Margery! To stay would be foolish!"

With tears streaming down her face, Margery reluctantly nodded, turning before her feet could force her to stay and vanishing into the darkness. A shuddering breath escaped Catherine's lips and she clasped Elizabeth's hands a little tighter, afraid to let go though she knew she must.

"Come with us" The Queen whispered hurriedly, the angry sound of metal and the hammer of leather boots upon stone growing ever closer. Catherine shook her head.

"I stay to save you, my friend and....." She glanced towards the bed where her son gazed earnestly at her, his little face filled with worry "And Henry will stay with me" Elizabeth gasped "He is my son, my boy!" She murmured, beginning to usher her out of the door, the worry within her rising. Each second wasted was another second closer to capture "I will not be parted from him, even in this. I will keep him safe. I know I will. My brother and Mother will protect me as will my Father's friends....."

"You are sure? I would care for him as if he were my own...."

"I know" Catherine whispered, pulling Elizabeth into one last firm embrace, trying desperately to blink away the tears pooling in her eyes "I know you would but.... you must go!" Pulling away, she watched her friend hesitate, her feet telling her to run while her heart told her different "Go!" Catherine cried, taking hold of the door to shut it "Go, Elizabeth and pray that curse of yours works, for all of our sakes!"

Slamming the door with a heavy bang, she pulled across the heavy iron bolt, turning quickly to her son and lifting him into her arms. There was no time to waste, no time to linger. The sound of Warwick and his men storming the ancient fortress echoed all around her and with one unsteady breath, she forced herself to move.

"Semper audax, semper liber" She whispered to herself as she pulled open the chamber door and met with a deserted hallway, made bright with torchlight.
Ever bold, ever free.

Her freedom was about to be taken, of that she was sure, but in sacrificing her own, she was securing the freedom of others and surely that was a price worth paying? Even if she did not have her freedom, her boldness would never desert her and as she forced herself into the open, she felt it rise; defiant.

Let Warwick have her, she thought, the true prize he sought was long gone. Or at least, she hoped it was.

"Up here!" His malicious voice struck a cord of fear within her heart and the clatter of metal on stone sounded, the telltale sigh of men hurrying up the stairs. Grasping a nearby torch, Catherine lifted it from its bracket, tuning and hurrying along the hall with her shadow dancing across the stone, clearly visible to all.

"There!" A second voice cried as she ran around the corner and felt a pang of slight satisfaction that her plan had worked.

"Hold onto me, my love" She whispered into her little boy's hair, ducking under an archway and beginning to rush down the winding staircase below her feet. The sound of running soldiers filled her ears, their grim voices that of the devil, each of their heavy steps like the toll of a church bell, leading her toward death. 'No' She told herself firmly, catching the light of blazing torches out of the corner of her eye, dancing dangerously closer to her.

Casting her own aside, she picked up her skirts and broke into a run, shoes echoing against the marble floor as she wound her way through passageways. Warwick's men drew closer and closer with each moment, making her heart pound and clutch her boy tighter to her. Perhaps she could still make a bid for freedom, she wondered desperately, join Elizabeth in sanctuary so her safety truly would be determined.

She gasped as the corridor before her suddenly came to an end, the thick, stone wall closing off the end painted bright with a biblical scene. Only God could help her now, she knew, but even he seemed to have abandoned her, his might presence forced into the shadows by the demon that was the Earl of Warwick.

"You're cornered Catherine. Where is the Woodville woman?"

His voice was harsh, grating, malicious as she remembered and Catherine shivered at the sound, forcing herself to turn. Before her stood at least a dozen men, each brandishing burning torches and donning the black and crimson of Lancaster. Their faces were grim, turned demonic in the fiery shadows, like the guards of the far Tower....

"Bad men" Henry whimpered, his lower lip beginning to tremble as he looked at the two armour clad men leading the Lancastrian pack. Warwick and George. His Mother gently shushed him, smoothing a hand protectively over his hair.

"If you think I will utter one word on the subject then you are mistaken, sir" She replied cooly, only to earn one of Warwick's sneering laughs. Again, she shivered.
"Oh I do more than think, girl" He snarled, looking upon her with an expression of disgust "You will tell me where she and her harlot's brood are or...."

"Or what?" Catherine interrupted, her fear turned to boldness out of pure desperation and a hatred for the man standing before her. Though her legs threatened to give way and her heart beat quicker than a war drum, she would not let him see her fear "Have you stooped so low that you now bully girls and their babes to achieve your own ends? Ah but you have always done that, I remember it well"

The slide of metal against leather made her flinch and her eyes widened at the dagger the Earl drew, its sharpened blade flashing dangerously. She shook her head, no, he would not dare use it against her.

"You've always been an obstinate little bitch, haven't you?" He hissed "Even when you were a child. You were only ever quiet when I had you locked up and by God it will give me joy to do so again. You and your little pup"

"Do what you will!" Catherine retorted sharply "I do not fear pain but I shall place you in a world of the feeling if you dare lay one finger on my son"

At that, George at last decided to make his presence truly known, stepping forward with one cautionary hand raised in the direction of his cousin's dagger.
"No one is going to harm your son, Catherine. Warwick, put away your blade"

He looked upon the young woman and her son with a sense of pity, holding a glow of sadness in his eyes that only made her anger flare. What right had he to pity her?

"I don't take orders from you, boy" Warwick snapped but George grabbed his arm, holding it firmly in his strong grip until the Earl deigned to look at him.
"Have you forgotten who she is?" He hissed, causing them both to glance at the defiant Duchess "She may be my brothers wife but she is still a Lancastrian and the sister to the Earl of Northumberland"

Warwick's bitter laugh filled the air and he shook his head.
"Yet another thing Edward has taken from my kin. No matter, John had his revenge"

"That is not my point" George returned through gritted teeth, looking warily at the men behind them. Even though they were under his command, it was clear he didn't trust them and Catherine was sure they did not trust their leaders either. After all, until earlier that year they had been commanding the enemy.

Turncoats were never welcomed, on either side. To turn your coat was to lose any honour in the eyes of both friend and foe, carving out a permanent place for yourself in the long list of men who stood for naught but themselves.

"If you harm her or the boy you will have every Lancastrian in the country baying for your blood and some do already" George continued "Yours and mine. Do not let your hatred blind you, not now" Catherine scoffed incredulously, watching as Warwick reluctantly slid his dagger back into its scabbard, his fingers itching to keep it drawn.

"So you can speak sense, George?" She quipped "I'm surprised, why didn't you use it sooner or has the realisation of your reality finally forced some divine intervention?" His piercing gaze snapped to hers and his eyes narrowed to a threatening glare she tilted her chin up at. Proud Cis would never let her head fall and nor would she.

God, what would happen to Cecily?
What would happen to Jaquetta?

"If you know what's good for you you will keep that running mouth of yours shut"
"Your brothers often wished for you to do the same. You didn't listen to them"

George's anger flared and he strode forward, roughly grabbing her by the arm so that she yelped in pain at the metal clad fingers biting into her flesh.
"No but you will listen to me" He hissed, dragging her through his men "Come"

As she was hauled through the Tower, Catherine fell into silence, the pain in her arm dulling to an ache that made tears spring to her eyes. Henry whimpered in her arms, trying to muffle his quiet cries against her neck while she clutched him close, longing to whisper comforts into his ear.

No one would take her boy, she told herself as George dragged her into the courtyard where Yorkist soldiers were being herded into groups, their armour and weapons taken. There was no sign of the Queen, nor her kin and Catherine would've breathed a sigh of relief had her heart not been racing.

"We will take her to Westminster" Warwick murmured, almost smirking at the young woman's surprised shout as George hoisted her onto the back of his horse, gripping her waist far from gently "She will face the King and his court" Catherine glared down at him, wrapping her boy in the folds of her cloak while she tried desperately not to cry.

"The King is across the sea" She said coldly, shuffling as far across the saddle as safety would allow when George swung up in front of her "But he will return and then, you will die. I promise you that"

Warwick simply laughed.

꧁꧂

Westminster Palace, the next morning....

Though sunlight streamed through the windows, in darkness Catherine lay, her face streaked with dry tears and her eyes dead, unseeing as they stared up at the canopy of the unfamiliar bed. Henry lay beside her, curled up against her in a merciful slumber that had claimed him on the way to Westminster the previous night.

Despite his fear, the warmth of being bundled in his Mother's cloak had lulled into sleep, something she'd been infinitely grateful for. The Lancastrian nobility had already swarmed the royal palace, infesting every chamber, every corner with crimson and black, cries of 'God save King Henry!' filling her ears. She'd resisted the urge to cry as she was marched through the palace by George, watching helplessly as York banners were torn from the walls and wondered how he did not weep.

How could he stand to see his own kin dishonoured in such a way? His own brothers? Truly, if she had not been holding her son then George would've been a dead man.

He'd escorted her to an unfamiliar chamber then left her in silence, ensuring the door was securely locked so that there was no hope of escape. Little did he know that she had no strength to escape and as soon as she lay her son on the bed, her legs had collapsed beneath her and her sobs had filled the room, though she tried to muffle them behind a trembling hand.

She cried for herself, for her son, for Richard, the love of her life forced to flee his own country on the second of October. His eighteenth birthday, she'd realised with another sob, feeling her heart break within her chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks into the early hours of the morn and by the time she found the strength to haul herself up onto the bed, the front of her gown was stained with damp streaks.

Despite her exhaustion, she'd not slept a wink, simply cradled her son close and prayed for his safety. The prospect of being bound in chains and sent to a dungeon seemed unlikely but not all danger lay in the dark of a cell, surrounded by filth. Henry's gentle breaths blew against the skin of her neck and she glanced down at him, at his peaceful little face; soft in sleep.

The rattle of keys in the chamber door alerted her and Catherine jerked up from the covers, her hair falling about her face. Despite the sudden movement, Henry did not wake and she quickly threw a nearby blanket over him hiding his little body from view as she rose, trying to remember how to breathe.

At the sight of the man that strode through the door, she forgot completely.

Her eyes widened, lips forming into an O of surprise as her mind spun with confused shock. Dressed in a doublet of deep crimson, the man had his back to her for a moment as he closed the door, shutting it with a quiet click. The rose of Lancaster was embroidered on his collar, outlined with golden thread that was but a small example of his wealth. It was extravagant, a Percy trait....

When he turned to her, he seemed no less surprised than she was and his feet all but fused to the ground. He did not smile, he did not speak, only stared in disbelief.

His hair was no longer the golden hue of childhood she remembered, it was a deep brown, almost black and sat in soft waves on his shoulders. But his eyes....oh those blue eyes, those blue eyes, were still the same and held hers in a gaze she thought would never be. She did not need for him to say one word to know she was looking at her brother. Her own dear brother.

"Hal...."

No sooner had she begun to speak then his arms were about her, firm, strong and yet somehow possessing all the tenderness in the world. It felt a natural embrace to be in, warm, safe, natural in a way that had Catherine returning it with all the affection she could muster.

"It is truly you?" She heard him whisper against her hair "Is it truly you, Cate?"

At her small nod, he clutched her closer, holding her body to his with a fierce protectiveness few had embraced her with. The protectiveness of a brother for his sister.

"You remember me" She breathed, winding her arms around his neck and letting her eyes close for a moment; her body bask in the fleeting safety she'd found. A laugh strangely familiar to her ear answered her and Hal nodded, clutching her tighter still while he began to grin.

"I have never forgotten you!" He told her firmly "not for one moment. Although" He flushed slightly "I feared you would forget me, sweet sister"

"Never!" She cried, pulling away to peer into his face and finding with a pang of surprise that she smiled. Truly. Again, Hal laughed, raising his hands to gently cup her face, his thumbs wiping away the streaks of tears still damp against her cheeks.

"No one will hurt you" He said, letting his smile dwindle somewhat as a new severity seeped into his voice "You are safe now, sister! Safe from the Yorks, safe from war!" He sighed, leaning forward to gently brush a kiss against her forehead "You are home, Cate"