~Return to Middleham~

It was their fourth week of travel, their fourth week trekking along the winding roads of of England. The two York boys rode at the front, sitting proud and regal upon their steeds but, that day there was another addition to their leading party.

Catherine rode in front of George, her golden hair loose and blowing gently in the summer breeze that filled the air. She had not exactly had much choice in the matter, that was for sure.

When she was dressed, George had come to collect her as usual, carrying her outside to where the soldiers waited but, instead of placing her in the carriage, he had placed her on his horse.

He had shushed her murmurs of protest with one look, watching his little brother grin beside her on his own horse.

"If you languish in darkness, it will only consume you" George had told her sternly before swinging up behind, slipping an arm around her waist. From there on they had rode, now truly in the North, where Middleham lay. The next day they would make it to the ominous stone fortress and the York brothers had decided between themselves that it would do no good to have Catherine arrive looking like a living skeleton!

Surprisingly, their plan had worked, and after half an hour Catherine had begun to emerge from her cell of desolate despair. A hint of rosy colour retuned to her cheeks and she tilted her head up, letting her pale skin bask in the summer sun.

The air smelt pleasant, she found, the honeysuckle and roses, surrounding the roads, creating a sweet aroma that set her mind and heart at peace. She began to relax into the saddle she was held in, leaning her head onto George's shoulder as a smile twitched at the corners of her lips.

"See" Dickon told her "Things are not so bad!"
"And they won't be" His brother added quickly before Catherine could find a sharp-witted retort to bite back.

When they halted for a break, George lifted her down from his steed and onto the soft bed of grass below, encouraging her to walk across it on her own. She gathered her skirts around her, taking a slight joy in the meadow by the road and, while the soldiers rested,  feasting upon apples and bread, she scoured the inviting ground for flowers to pick.

Dickon was soon by her side, offering her a bite of his apple which she found she accepted gratefully, relishing the sweet taste that spread across her tongue. It was the most delicious thing she had tasted in weeks and with another bite she was sure she could feel a new life spreading throughout her veins. It was strange, really, how quickly she had changed from a living corpse to a mere girl again, hunting for pretty blooms.

"What do you search for?" Dickon asked as she plucked a flower from the earth, smiling a little at the pale petals.

"Daisies, my Lord" She answered, holding up the perfect blossom for his inspection "I may not remember much of my young life....but I do remember that I used to make daisy chains with my brother" Her small smile widened at the memory, one of sunny days lying within the Alnwick gardens, Henry by her side.

He would fashion a crown of the small flowers for her, placing it upon her head and naming her as Queen before their Mother called them inside for dinner.... 

No matter how much time had passed she still missed those days and somehow her husband could sense that. Placing an arm around her waist he guided her to the ground, finishing the rest of the apple in his hand with a soft smile. He helped her to pick the daisies around them, watching her at work while she fashioned a chain of them with delicate fingers.

"You are very good at that" He remarked and she smiled, pushing back a stray lock of golden hair that drifted across her face in the breeze "You shall have to fashion one for me!"

"This is for you!" She replied with twinkling eyes connecting the last of the daisies and holing the chain she had created out to him, guiding it over his head to his shoulders like a chain of office "It suits you" She teased and Dickon threw his finished apple over his shoulder, looking down at the blooms that rested against his doublet with amusement.

"The daisy is the sigil of Marguerite of Anjou"
Catherine raised her eyebrows at that, plucking another daisy from her side and raising it up to the light.
"Perhaps" She replied "But they are so very pretty I do not think even a York can deny them!" Her husband smiled again, lifting the chain of daisies from his shoulders and placing it upon the ground.

"You should have your own sigil, my Lady!" He pulled another apple from the pouch at his side; handed it to her "You are a Royal Duchess! You must decide what you are represented by" Eyeing him curiously, his wife took a bite of the new apple, grinning once again at the sweet taste.

"And what are you represented by, my Lord? A white rose? A falcon and fetterlock like your Father?"

Dickon chuckled, shaking his head.
"I am surprised you know my house's sigils!" He confessed, watching as she lay down upon the grass, her hair flowing around her; a goddess of summer "But it is none. I have selected the white boar while George has the black bull. My motto I am not settled upon. I do not know what it should include...."

"Loyalty" Catherine answered, staring up at the floating clouds above and raising a hand to trace along their dancing edges "You are a loyal little thing, my Lord. If a motto is what represents you then loyalty should be in yours!" Her husband laughed again and lay beside her, gazing lazily up at the snowy clouds.

"Well if a motto must represent who we are, my Lady, then you're must simply include...." He paused, a mischievous smile flitting about his lips "Boldness"
"Boldness?" She repeated, turning her head to the side. "You think that would suit me? I do not think I have much aptitude for boldness, although your eldest brother certainly does!"

"As do you" Dickon returned "It just needs to be coaxed from you!"

"Let's move!" George abruptly ordered from across the meadow, waving his arm commandingly. The two upon the grass rose at his voice, making the way back towards their companions with a little more warmth between them "We must reach an inn by sundown if we have any hope of reaching Middleham tomorrow!"

Catherine suddenly shuddered, halting in her tracks and Dickon's arm was immediately around her waist, his concerned face looking into hers.

"Would you like to return to the carriage?" He asked, already about to walk her to it but no, she shook her head, determinedly clinging to his arm. Now that she had emerged into the light a little, she could feel the boldness he had spoken of emerging ever so slightly.
"I will ride with George again" She declared "It is best if I am strong for the arrival, is it not?"

Dickon nodded his agreement, handing her over to his brother who ably hoisted her up onto his horse while he took to his own. 
"Someone's spirit has returned a little" George murmured, swinging up behind her and Catherine could not help but smile.

"If I cannot escape my fears I may as well try to face them I suppose?"
George grinned and nodded, glancing to his little brother who mirrored his expression perfectly.

꧁꧂

In the dark of the night, Catherine lay in her bed at the inn, her small body held beneath the covers while it jerked back and forth. Through the evening, she had eaten, she had talked, even danced when George offered, showing her a dance new to the court. Her heart was slightly at peace, her nerves soothed and she thought she had broken free of some of the chains that bound her.

Until she fell asleep.

Until she closed her eyes and her dark fears consumed her once more, like sharp thorns driving deep into the depths of her mind, never to be removed.

Fingers clawed are her arms and hair, dragging her towards the lone tower that lay amidst the darkness. No other stone surrounded it, no keep, no moat, no bustling village beneath upon the valley. Even the hills she hated were not there for her eyes to gaze upon.

Faceless men, dressed in black waited by the dark door as she was dragged towards the Far Tower, the hand fisted painfully in her hair twisting while she screamed for mercy.
"Please!" She begged "Let me go! Let me go!"

A harsh slap across the face was all she received, just like the one the Neville soldier had given her the night she was taken, causing her to cry out.
"Bitch" Warwick's deep voice hissed and little Catherine struggled all the more, hot tears streaming down her face.

"Father!" She screamed, hoping that the strong Earl would save her, would take her into his warm arms; keep her safe. Again, she twisted as she was dragged closer and closer to the tower, the faceless guards suddenly bearing expressions of malice; leering at her.

A desperate yell left her and once more she tried to escape, tried to tear Warwick's hand away from her. But all too suddenly the guards leapt forth, tearing her from the Earl's grasp while he laughed his malevolent laugh. Catherine screamed, calling out for her Father again as she was dragged into the darkness.

Nails like claws protruded through their gauntlets, slicing into her flesh so that she screamed. Beads of crimson red blossomed onto her skin, running down her sleeves which she now realised where torn and muddied. She wore nothing but her shift and she could feel the hard steps of the stone steps beneath her bare feet as the guards dragged her to the high chamber.

"No!" She cried, trying to push away but the demonic soldiers only held her tighter, their nails dragging down her arms, blood flowing freely from her veins, dripping onto her torn shift beneath. Into the room she was forced, the chamber even darker than she remembered, no bed lay in the corner and the window was barred.

She was thrown to the floor and screamed again in pain as her bleeding body hit the hard stone. When she looked back with a sob, the guards had vanished and her prison door was shut, barred, locked. Catherine tried to claw for breath, grabbing onto the window ledge; hoisting herself to her feet and clutching at the bars that replaced the glass of the lone window.

When she looked below, she let out a yell, staring in horror at the massacred bodies of her brother and Father that lay below, their heads torn away; thrown to the side of them. Beside them, her Mother wept, her long hair unbound and her fine dress torn and muddied. She was in chains, her hands painfully bound as were her feet.

To the side of the broken Percy family,Warwick stood; bloodied sword in hand and a malicious laugh leaving his lips before he turned, his snakelike eyes snapping to hers.

"I told you" His voice called up to her "I told you I would kill them! And now, I am going to kill you"

"No!" Catherine screamed, reaching through the iron bars in vain to try and reach her Father and brother; her weeping Mother "No!"

She jerked up from the covers of her bed with a scream, her blood cold yet pumping through her veins like a raging storm that swept across the sea of her mind. The tight band around her chest had returned, almost crushing her body. She pressed a hand to it, feeling her pounding heart beneath her skin. Her lungs craved air, burning while her eyes darted around her, desperately searching for another soul for her to cling to.

In this inn there was only one other she could cling to....

"Dickon" She whispered and flung back the covers, discarding her robe and slippers to dash across the cold bedchamber and tear open the door. Her feet pounded along the wooden floor boards of the corridor, her breaths laboured, yet alarmingly short, until she reached the room where she knew Dickon lay.

Without a single thought she flung open the door, causing her young husband to dart up from the covers just as she had done. He looked around, dark hair tousled, dazed for a moment before his wide eyes focused on the gasping figure standing before his bed.

"Catherine?"

She opened her mouth to speak, shaking her head while tears pooled in her eyes again, making a sob tear from her throat as she sank to the floor. Her shoulders heaved and she curled into herself, not noticing the boy that padded towards her and was suddenly kneeling by her weeping body, taking it into his arms.

"Catherine" Dickon whispered softly, helping her up on trembling legs before he led her to his bed, pushing her back onto the covers. She curled into herself again, shaking uncontrollably while she sobbed, quietly calling out for her Mother, her brother, her Father.

Dickon dashed to the other side of the bed, crawling onto the mattress and lying beside her. Wrapping a tender arm around her waist, he pulled her body to his, pressing her back against his chest while his heart ached "Shh" He gently cooed, his free hand coming up to stroke her hair, tucking it behind one ear "You are safe, Cate....you are safe"

At the nickname, another sob wracked her body and she turned around in his arms, taking to crying into his shoulder.
"Cate...." She murmured through the tears "Cate....that is what my family used to call me. My Mother, my brother" Her already shuddering breaths hitched "My Father....no one has called me by that since"

Dickon sighed, holding her tighter.

Catherine shook in his arms once more, sobbing against the front of his nightshirt until he gently detached himself from her trembling body. He walked over to the wash bowl upon the windowsill, dipping his handkerchief into the cold water before he made his way back to the bed.

"Come here" He murmured and she obeyed, letting him sit her up before he pressed the damp cloth to the tear stained cheeks she bore, wiping her distress away. Slowly, Catherine's breathing began to return to normal, her body stopped shaking and the band around her waist began to relax its painful grip "There" Dickon said gently as she drew up her knees to her chest, rocking herself back and forth.

Just like she did in the Far Tower.

"There" She repeated when he threw the handkerchief aside and climbed back into bed with her, tugging her close once more until her head was cradled safely against his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair and she curled into him, a strange feeling of safety washing over her in her young husband's arms.

He made her feel safe.
This York boy made her feel safe.

And she did not reject it, she relished it, letting the warmth of his body soothe her icy skin while he rested against the carved headboard. There they stayed, locked in their safe embrace. For how long, Cathrine did not know but she did not care, all she knew was that she wanted this young boy to stay beside her, holding her as he did now.

"Would you like to ride with me to Middleham tomorrow?"

She looked up at the sound of his quiet voice, a shudder running through her at the dreaded castle's name but one he gentled away when he began playing with her hair once more.
"What?"

"Ride behind me, or in front if it would make you feel easier?" Dickon asked "I know how scared of Warwick you are but he is fond of me and if I can show him that you are with me, that I care for you, then he will not harm you!" Her breath caught in her throat again and on weak arms she pushed herself up, looking down upon her young husband with a look of true surprise.

Never had she expected the words he had just spoken to leave his lips. He was the serious Duke of Gloucester, a boy who did not think on the things he had just revealed....or so she had thought.

"You....care for me?"
"Is it not a husband's duty to care for his wife?" He replied but the small, almost embarrassed, smile upon his face told her his words had not been of duty nor obligation. They had been ones of truth.

"I would like to ride with you, Dickon" She decided, slowly settling back down against him and sighing contently, letting him pull up the heavy covers around them "Thank you"

꧁꧂

The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester did not travel with the rest of the party the next day, instead they rode ahead, out of sight of the others. That morning, Dickon had picked out one of the best gowns for his wife, made of cloth of gold which he matched with his doublet. He convinced her to discard a headdress but still had her weave royal blue ribbons through the braid binding her hair.

"That way you shall look regal" He told her when he placed her Duchess's coronet upon her head, tilting up her chin with a finger "Hold your head high and none shall doubt you"

Now she rode in front of him, his arm securely around her waist while she looked at the vast land of emerald green around them. They had become encased in a valley, the sloping sides covered in woodland bursting with herds of deer and boar that her husband told her he was eager to shoot.

Dickon was a keen hunter, she had discovered in the hours that they travelled, as much as he had been when they had both last been at Middleham and he would ride out with his cousins. Catherine hoped to go hunting, she had to admit, after all the sport was one of her favourites! To hold a bow in her hands and to speed through the trees on a stallion was her highest ideal of joy and she had missed it since she being parted from Georgie.

Her only hope was that Warwick would not hunt with them!

As much as the man terrified her, she also could not stand the sight of him and his ego that filled every room he walked into. Some described it as power, she described it as arrogance. She told Dickon so as they rode by a babbling brook and he laughed, halting his stallion so it could drink from the crystal waters before carrying onwards.

It was strange but, as they rode through the woods of the valley, the sweet twittering of Larks and Doves calling out to them, Catherine found she did not feel nearly as afraid as she thought she might. The sights that surrounded her did not fill her with the hatred that she had felt when she gazed out of the far Tower window, nor did the gentle breeze,rustling the trees, stir resentment.

Perhaps it was because she was free.
Or perhaps it was because she now had a protector.

Perhaps it was Dickon's calmness that calmed her, his unhurried manor as they rode, the way he seemed to take joy in each and every thing around him. She had not seen this side of her husband before, she had only ever seen him serious but now....now within the North he seemed change. There was still an air of severity about him but he seemed free to laugh, free to smile, free to talk and even joke!

It was possible that he was only doing it for the sake of her but Catherine was sure she would only thank him more for his kindness if that were true.

When Middleham at last came into view, she began to tremble, the mere sight of the stone walls a reminded of her terror but Dickon held her tight. He clasped her gloved hand in his squeezing gently and when a tear slipped from her eye he brushed it away, telling her to be brave.

Their short ride through the village was a blur to her and she remembered not the stares of the people, some who recognised the Percy girl or who had heard of her marriage to the Duke. All her gaze rested on was the castle, it's ominous keep and looming towers that cast a shadow over the moat.

When they came to the drawbridge, Catherine could feel her chest begin to tighten once more, the familiar band around it painful, as always.
"I am here" Dickon murmured, sensing her distress and she nodded, leaning her head back upon his shoulder as they rode through the gatehouse.

She gulped, her senses immediately alert while her fear climbed, setting her heart racing at the sight of the regal figures that stood upon the steps.

Or rather....figure.

There was a man, a man standing tall and bearing the Neville crest on his doublet. But it was not Warwick, no, this man's eyes were blue and he smiled when he saw the Duke and Duchess, he did not snarl or leer....

"John!" She suddenly called and John Neville let out a laugh, opening his arms in welcome as Dickon pulled his stallion to a halt. Immediately a groom in Neville livery ran out from the stables, taking the horse's reins while Dickon jumped down, holding out his arms to his wife.

"Come, my Lady" He murmured encouragingly and she surprised herself when she willingly slipped into his embrace, allowing him to link their arms before striding towards the castle steps. Still, John was smiling, his gaze more upon the little Duchess than his cousin the Duke. When she came before him, he bowed, amusement in his merry eyes as she peered up at him.

"So you remember me then, Princess Catherine?"

"Of course!" She exclaimed, a little louder than she had intended, causing her to blush. The sheer relief of Warwick's absence had lifted a weight from her heart and she suddenly felt dizzy with some form of joy "Of course I remember, you, my Lord!"
"John" He corrected gently, turning to her husband and letting out a cry of welcome, pulling young Dickon into his arms to patting him heartily on the back.

"My my lad!" He exclaimed with a chuckle when he pulled back to study the boy standing proudly before him "You have grown! And you are married! At just eleven!"

"That I am, Johnny!" Dickon replied happily, tilting his chin up with all of the York pride he could muster before linking his arm with his wife's again "Tell me, John, is cousin Richard here?" Catherine looked to him sharply and her blood ran cold, causing her to shiver in the summer heat.

John shook his head, noting with pity the sigh of relief the young girl gave, the way her eyes turned upwards to the sky for a moment as she thanked God for her good fortune.
"Come" He said, turning to lead the way up the steep castle steps "You have had a long journey and the others shall be along soon. I will show you to your chambers"

"Chamber" Dickon corrected, making John halt; quirk a curious eyebrow "Of course I shall have my own chambers" He elaborated "But on this night the Duchess and I shall share!" A grin twitched at his cousin's lips but he nodded all the same, carrying on with a simple shrug.

"If that is what you wish, Dickon!"

꧁꧂

The candles burned bright in the Duchess's chambers that night as she lay in bed with her husband, his arms gently cradling her. She had insisted that not a single flame be quenched, not an ounce of light put out for fear that her nightmares would come in dark.

And nightmares meant Warwick.

She was not sure if she would sleep, after all, it was her first night returned to the castle where her worst fears lay. She had refused the tour of the castle after dinner for fear of seeing the Far Tower where she had been kept and instead had retired to her chambers where she waited for Dickon to join her.

He had not been long and now he lay beside her, one hand gently combing through her loose hair while the other held her hand. At least if she could not sleep, she could be at ease, Catherine thought, listening to the steady beat of young Dickon's heart.

"How long do you want me to stay?" He murmured after a while, his eyes heavy with sleep that clashed with his determination to stay awake for her. Catherine smiled, a small yawn escaping her lips as she cuddled closer, almost content.

"All night....and every night after"