~My Love, my Heart, my Home~

Richard groaned contently as he awoke, the feeling of feathered pillows and linen sheets an unfamiliar one to his body but one he relished. Since leaving his sister's court in Burgundy over a month prior, he had not known the comfort of a soft bed, making do as most soldiers did with his cloak spread on the ground beneath him or a palette if he was lucky.

In the normal way of things, when on campaign he would be in no less comfort than when he was in a castle, surrounded by fine luxury but he had long since realised that the past months had been by no means the normal way of things. Not one moment.

He returned to England not a York Prince, the esteemed Duke of Gloucester (though Edward had told him countless times that the attainders placed on he and their kin were unlawful) but as an exile, as did his brother. They returned to find the land run by the very man their Father had fought to replace with the man whom they had thought of as a second Father by his side.

England was no longer the England they knew but Richard was determined to twist the very laws of time to restore the land to its former glory. Edward's glory.

Throughout their exile, the two brothers had only grown closer and Richard knew without a doubt that he was chief in Edward's confidence, higher even than Elizabeth which was an achievement he often found himself smirking at. There was none other that his King would turn to council first than him, always him. He trusted him implicitly and Richard treasured that trust more than he would the finest jewel.

He had always looked up to Edward, placed him upon a golden pedestal above all others which he gazed at for the entirety of his childhood but now, things had changed. They were equals. His brother viewed him no longer as a boy but a man, a man loyal to a fault and to whom he could entrust his very country to if need be.

They had endured six months of exile together and now they would take back England together.

As brothers, proud Sons of York.

Richard groaned again, his voice still heavy with sleep, but this time it was not from contentment, it was from irritation. An irritation conjured at the thought of the other son of York. The turncoat. The traitor. The lying bastard as Edward had once said. There were many names they could both assign to their wayward brother but one that would never again be bequeathed to him was beloved.

Of course he had slunk back to their side, like a snake to his hole when he realised there were no prizes to be won for him. They'd welcomed him with minimal warmth, knowing they could not stir any animosity at a time as uncertain as this, and after that their demeanour remained cool.

Before when George had offered to join them prior to Warwick's invasion they had been almost eager to be reunited with him but since then they had seen exile and they had seen hardships.

Any gentle view of the world and the people in it they previously held had melted away along with the remaining affection for their brother. Now only dying embers remained of the fire that once burned bright within each of their hearts and soon they too would grow cold.

Frowning to himself, Richard rolled over in his bed, rubbing his face on the pillow beneath him as if to rub any thoughts of George from his mind. He didn't want to think of him, most certainly not then, not when he was reunited with his family and he had Cate.....

His eyes opened wide as he realised his young wife was not curled up beside him as she always was when they shared a bed. After months of being alone, having a warm body beside him was unfamiliar but he remembered well the night before, a night he now counted amongst the happiest in his life. He had been reunited with his Henry, with his Cate and he was determined not to lose them ever again!

Turning his head to the side, his beating heart steadied somewhat as he saw Catherine standing next to the window on her side of the bed. She'd not bothered to cover herself with a shift or even a sheet, possessing only her golden, hip length tresses to ever so slightly preserve her modesty. Not that Richard wanted it to be preserved, not when only he was there!

A small smile curved her lips and he knew she was staring at the York banners he had ordered put up around the fortress; a sign of the true King's homecoming, a sign she was safe.

He'd wept like a child when he learnt she and their son had been sent to the Tower, threatening to strangle every Lancastrian in England with his bare hands through his tears. Edward had tried to comfort him but his efforts were futile and Richard had refused to speak to anyone but Rob for three days.

But he did not think on that now, he could only think of his wife, his kind, graceful, beautiful, loving wife who stood but a few feet away from him. The early morning light shone on her skin, her hair, making her lithe figure almost glow and crowning her a Goddess of spring. She was perfect, he thought, the most beautiful woman in all the world and his wife.

He sighed with sweet contentment, tilting his head on the pillow. He'd missed such simple pleasures as this, being able to watch her, speak to her, feel her soft skin beneath his fingers with one reach of his hand.

"You are so very beautiful, Cate" He murmured and she threw him a loving glance over her shoulder.
"And you so very handsome" She replied, wandering back to the bed and straddling him with a relaxed ease.

Not once did her eyes leave his body and she sighed happily as her fingers danced across his chest. There was a part of her that still believed him to be across the sea, that the warm body that had clasped her close through the night was no more than a dream, that he was a mere figment of her imagination. But she realised as she gazed upon his adonis like face that it didn't matter. If it was a dream, at least it was a good one.

"I am going to come with you" She murmured, brushing a hand over his right shoulder. How had his back fared during his months in exile? It was a source of constant pain and she was sure that the long march North to South he had partaken in would not have been a merry dance! Strangely, he had not complained of it yet but as she let their eyes meet again she realised that was because his mind was clear of all but her.

"Where?" He asked gently, occupying his eager hands with the gentle curve of her waist and she smiled, slowly leaning down.
"To war" She whispered against his lips and his eyes went wide with surprise. 'War?' His mind yelled and he shook his head against the pillow which only served to make her laugh.
"Catherine" He told her sternly "No"

"Richard" She replied, tilting her head and gently rocking her hips against his "Yes" Despite himself he could feel himself beginning to grow hard at such slight contact and gritted his teeth, fighting heaven and earth to remain serious.

Catherine had always possessed a will of iron when it came to their marriage. Because of her imprisoned childhood, as she grew she was more and more determined to do as she pleased and go where she wanted when she wanted. It was a trait he'd eagerly indulged, wishing with all his heart that he could heal the wounds inflicted upon her by his cousins but allowing her to go to war with him? No, it was too much.

Despite her smiling face, he shook his head again, moving to sit up against the headboard with a groan. Her blue eyes watched him, hands resting on his shoulders when he pulled her towards him and placed a tender kiss to her lips.

"I want to come with you, my love" She whispered "I have lost you for too long already and if you think I am letting you out of my sight for one...."
"No, ma belle" He interrupted, feeling his heart sink a little at the frown that appeared on her face. He hated to disappoint her but if he had to choose between disappointment and placing her in the jaws of danger he would always choose the former.

They had only just been reunited and even though his faith in his brother was unshakable there was no true guarantee that Edward would win the battle to come. Yes he held London, yes he was King of England once more but he was yet to face Warwick, yet to face the might of Lancaster and Marguerite of Anjou who's forces were preparing to sail from France.

Catherine was as brave as she was bold, with a courage he wagered could match any man but she knew little of war; few women did. To place her on a battlefield would be foolish and he was sure if she was near, his mind would not be able to focus on the sword in his hand nor the men under his command.

Reaching upwards, he brushed a stray curl behind her ear and smiled when she rocked her hips again in a way she knew would drive him mad "Minx" He teased, placing his hands on her waist again to hold her still "I do not want to see you hurt, my love. A battlefield is no place for a woman and this one shall be bloodier than most...."

"I do not care!" Cathrine cried, cupping his face "I refuse to be parted from you now that I have you by my side again! I refuse, Dickon!"
"And what about Henry? You would leave him here?"

At that, her expression darkened a little with guilt and she glanced toward the door behind which lay the chamber where their son slept. She shook her head. To leave him would be a torture all it's own but she knew there would be protectors to which she could entrust him. After all, she could not very well take him with her!

"He would be safe here and Elizabeth shall be emerging from sanctuary with Margery....I'll wager they shall be here today!"

Richard raised his eyebrows in an admittance that he could not deny her words. Queen Elizabeth would stay in sanctuary not a second longer than she had to and in all honesty he was slightly surprised she had not arrived at the Tower gates at dawn! It could only be Edward that kept her. Now it was at least eight in the morning and he felt a quiet dread thrum in his heart as he realised that within an hour or so he needed to be gone from the Tower and from the fortified city.

Warwick would not wait for him to spend a morning lounging in bed with his wife, no matter how much he wanted to, and he suddenly darted forward, taking her slightly by surprise with his passionate kiss.

He wanted her. Not by candlelight but by the light of day when the rays of sun would turn her skin to glowing gold instead of flickering amber and he could see every curve; the rise and fall of her breasts as she rode him. It was a sight he'd dreamt of for months while Edward wasted his nights on the whores of Burgundy. Why wasn't Elizabeth enough, he'd always wondered, he claimed to love her after all.

Catherine was the only woman he'd bedded and the only woman he'd ever bed. She was more than enough for him and always would be, he knew.

He was hers entirely, body and soul.

"This is not me conceding you a victory, sweetheart" He murmured when he felt her smirk triumphantly against his lips.

"Oh I think it is" She replied evenly, clasping onto his shoulders and crushing her lips hungrily to his again while their chests pressed freely together, both heaving "You and I both know that I'm coming with you Richard" She murmured when she finally broke the kiss, resting their foreheads together "no matter what you say"

"You would disobey your Lord husband?"
A smile flitted across her lips and she kissed him again.

"I would follow my Lord husband where his life takes him as a good wife should" She replied, watching as a tender smile of his own appeared on his face "and today life takes my husband to the battlefield so I go with him. I have spent too much time waiting, too much time behind closed doors and high walls. I'm coming with you Dickon. And there's nothing you nor God can do to stop me"

This time it was he that kissed her and she giggled as he rolled her beneath him, pinning her body to the covers.
"I could always tie you to the bed?" He suggested and her eyes went wide as she laughed.
"You wouldn't dare!"

꧁꧂

They had been reluctant to leave their bed and the warmth of each other's arms but the tower clock soon struck nine and they realised they had to rise. Pulling her torn nightgown over her body, she had donned her bed robe and fastened the front clasp before seeing to her husband. While Richard's squires had accompanied him to the Tower, Catherine decided that she would play the role of dresser that day.

As his wife, she would attend to him, help him into the armour that would keep him safe from hails of arrows and the deadly thrust of sharpened swords. She was not sure she would trust any other to do the precious job, not that day and as she tightened the strap of her husband's pauldron for the third time she found her eyes wandering over the rest of his armour.

Her eyes sought each clasp, each edge, each link of chainmail that lay beneath, his guardian angel on the battlefield. The sound of clinking armour had awoken their son and little Henry had wandered through to his parents room, rubbing tired eyes with one balled fist. Running to his Father, he'd clambered into his arms and pressed kisses to his cheeks, babbling good mornings before being passed to Catherine.

Now, he sat amongst the rumpled covers of their bed, watching his parents with curiosity. Every minute or so, his Mother would glance over at him, a gentle smile on her lips that he would return with a little wave. She feared it would break her heart to leave him but he would be safe within the Tower walls and she had no desire to be present when King Henry was towed through the gates.

'Poor man' She thought with a sigh before deciding to distract herself with the fate of the others whom stood in Edwards way. The Nevilles. Warwick and John. One a power hungry rebel, the other a man felt driven to betrayal by his unfair treatment.

"What will happen to John?" She murmured and Richard glanced up, a certain darkness to his eyes that almost made her regret her question. Perhaps she should not have tainted the last moments they would spend as a family with mention of the traitors?

He sighed, finally moving from his position by the fire where she had readied him and sinking down beside Henry who climbed ably into his lap.

"Ned is no longer of a forgiving nature" He admitted, trying to summon a wry smile to his lips when Catherine joined him on the bed, running a hand through their sons unruly curls "Before he forgave his enemies, believed truly in second chances and even third ones, he forgave Somerset his treason twice over for God's sake!"

"And now?"
Richard raised his eyebrows.
"Well, he's vowed that the next time he sees Somerset he shall take his head" Catherine nodded, knowing the fate of the younger Neville brother without it needing to be spoken by her husband. Nodding to herself, she rose from the feathered mattress, wandering to the nearest window and once more gazing down onto the green.

"So John must die?"

"As much as I wish it weren't true....yes, he must die" Richard replied, his heart heavy in his chest at the thought of his cousin's demise. While he'd had a prime hand in Catherine's kidnapping, she harboured a fondness for him and so did he. He was a man of honour overall but Edward was determined not to let his heart be swayed by affection when it came to him.

John was, after all, the very man who had chased him from his kingdom six months prior. That was something he could never forgive "We must crush all opposition to Edward"

"Including my brother?"

It was a question that had long lingered in her mind but one that she needed a prompt answer too. Hal was a prized member of the Lancastrian council and had left court in March to gather his men to King Henry's banner. The Earl of Northumberland and a Percy, he held powerful blood as well as a powerful title and unfortunately lay on the list of Lancastrians that would do well to be crushed by the York fist.

That was a thought she could not bear, making her heart twist painfully as she knew it would break their Mother's. It would possibly breaks hers too. Richard did not seem so certain of his imminent demise however and simply shrugged.

"If he joins the battle" He replied, making Catherine turn towards him with hope lit eyes "Last I heard he was in Northumberland and we shall face Warwick within the next day or so. If he does not come against Edward in battle then I suppose we may be able to persuade him to mercy one last time"

"Truly?" She breathed and he nodded, passing his son his gauntlet to play with, knowing dreary talks would bore the little boy.

"Ned views himself as indebted to you, Cate" He said "for your care of Edmund and your loyalty to him these past months. Besides, your brother is one of the most powerful nobles in the kingdom, I'll wager after the slaughter we are shortly to see he'd rather ally himself with your wayward kin then have their heads on spikes"

He spoke slightly in jest at the last part but Catherine could only nod sternly to herself, praying that her brother was still in his lands in the North. There, even if he was for Lancaster he was out of harms way. If only she knew that he would not intentionally place himself in harms way for the sake of his loyalty to the red rose.

"Sweetheart, are you sure you do not wish to accompany me simply because you desire revenge on Warwick?"

Her breath caught in her throat and she turned to see her husband watching her in a way that told her she could not hide, even in the darkest shadows. He could see through her like glass; pierce her mind like an arrow through flesh.

He could see the truth and she forced herself to break their steady gaze before he realised he was partially right. Of course, she wished to travel with her husband so that they could be together and that had truly only been her original intentions. But as she lay in her husbands arms the previous night, finding sleep evade her, her mind had begun to weave a web she soon became entangled in.

It was a plan formed in darkness yet solidified in daylight, one conjured by the realisation that soon Warwick would be dead. Any chance of the revenge her scarred soul had craved for the past thirteen years would slip through her grasp like smoke before vanishing forevermore into the depths of hell. While she wished to wield the blade that would sever his line to life, even the sight of his fall would be enough to sate her somewhat and she was determined to see it.

She would see his blood spilled before her eyes, feel the red liquid, thick with hatred, cool on her hands....

"Horsey!" Henry suddenly exclaimed, clambering over the mattress at the sound of hooves on cobble entering the tower "Horsey!" He cried again and Catherine let out a cry at the sight of the Queen, her children, Margery and Jaquetta riding through the gates. Instantly, all thoughts of Warwick were banished from her mind and, with a promise to her husband that she would return soon, ran from their chambers.

A girlish giggle escaped her lips as she felt excitement bubble in her belly and it was all she could do not to jump down the spiral set of stairs her feet dashed down. After six long months her friends were returned to her and when she burst out into the light of day, she found she could not prevent herself from raising her robe and running across the green!

The Queen, as beautiful as ever was dismounting from her horse and her features lit up at the sight of the young Duchess. She was dressed simply, in a gown of light grey silk but her movements were no less gracefully regal as she moved forward in time to sweep Catherine into a warm embrace.

"Dearest Cat!" She exclaimed with a laugh and Catherine grinned against her shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of sweet oranges that rested upon the Queen's smooth skin "By God I have been so worried for you!"

"And I for you!" She returned brightly, beaming as she drew away to see her dearest friend Margery standing by with a shy smile on her lips "Margie! I have missed you!" Taking the redheaded woman into her embrace, she felt her smile widen as Margery's arms wrapped around her and for the first time she felt truly assured that the power of York was returning to England "How is your son?" She asked quickly "Is he well? Are you?

"I am and Johnny is growing into a fine boy" Margery replied warmly, chuckling to herself as the three York Princesses were lifted from the dapple palfrey that had carried them from Westminster Abbey and made a beeline for their Aunt.

"Aunt Cate!" Lizzie cried, throwing herself into Catherine's embrace while Mary and Cecily clung to her robe, smiling happily up at her "We have been worried for you!"

"And I for you, my dearest ones!" She replied, kissing each one of them fondly and accepting their excited embraces with a smile. The soft gurgle of a babe was the sound that took her attention from them and her mouth curved into a small O as she turned to see the Queen with a babe in her arms.

Prince Edward. York's true hope.

He was a small, sweet thing, pale, with tuffs of his parents golden hair sticking up on his head and swaddled tightly in woollen blankets so that only his little face peeked into the day. Pale blue eyes stared at the world around him, moving to his Aunt as she stepped closer, almost entranced and brushed a finger against his cheek.

"A son" She whispered and Elizabeth nodded, tilting her chin up with a pride none other could match.

"Our York Prince" Jaquetta confirmed, gliding to join the two royals and beaming down upon her little Grandson. Like the Queen, she too did not appear the glistening figure Catherine was used too, void of jewels with her greying hair simply braided. How low each of them had fallen under Lancastrian rule, reduced to little more than beggars who's hopes rested on those across the sea.

The last she had heard Jaquetta had been set free from Warwick's custody (to which she had been taken after his men hauled her from Grafton) on account of her Lancastrian connections. Much like Catherine herself.

Once Edward had won the battle to come, such majesty as they once possessed would be restored, she was sure for none of the Woodville women could ever claim to not love adorning themselves with splendour! And neither could Catherine! Lord it would be a happy day when she could have some new gowns made, she thought! She would have them trimmed with fur, studded with pearls and diamonds!

"Ma belle?" At the sound of her husband's voice, she turned to see him striding across the green, his armour glinting in the sunlight and their son safely in his arms. When he came before the Queen, he bowed, taking a moment to politely look upon his nephew when he was presented before returning to his wife "My love, the day grows late"

"Late?" Elizabeth repeated with an easy smile, cooing affectionately at her nephew "Why? Are you taking my dear Cat somewhere, brother?"

"I am to accompany my husband to the battlefield" Catherine replied, steadfastly taking the Queen's arm at the sound of her shocked gasp and steering her away from the little group of Yorks.

Almost immediately Elizabeth began to voice her protests, forbidding in all manner of ways for her friend to set one foot outside the tower but her orders went ignored "We have waited too long" Catherine said in a hushed voice once they were halfway across the green "I have waited too long!"

Elizabeth stared at her, an almost incredulous expression on her face as her clever mind realised Catherine's plan.
"You're going to kill Warwick...."

"I'm going to make sure he never sees another dawn" The younger woman replied sternly "We have waited upon your curse for over a year, Elizabeth. It is time we took matters into our own hands...." She sighed "Time I took matters into my own hands"

"So there is the boldness of which your motto speaks" Catherine glanced up, letting their eyes meet and recognising a glimmer of pride in the Queen's blue eyes; a shine of approval "If you do this, I believe you may have achieved what you always wanted" She arched an eyebrow.
"And what might that be?"

"To be dangerous"