~Lovely Elizabeth~

May 26th 1465, The Tower of London....

"I wonder what she is like" Catherine murmured aloud as Margery poured more water into her wooden tub; relishing the warmth as it ran over her bare skin. Her fingers toyed with her hair, twisting the golden strands around and around while she tried to picture the new Queen of England that was to be crowned that day. "Have you seen her yet? Is she beautiful?"

Margery laughed, placing down her metal jug and selecting a glass vial of lavender oil from the nearby table.

"We only arrived yesterday, Cat!" She replied, uncorking the small bottle and pouring the contents over her mistress "but they do say she is very beautiful! The most beautiful woman in Christendom!" Catherine hummed, gently rubbing the oil into her soft skin.

"The most beautiful woman in Christendom? Well, I wager that shall only serve to infuriate Warwick more, just as I hoped" She could feel Margery grin behind her and waved for her towel, rising from the warm water. Her curiosity towards the new Queen had been pricked as she and her husband rode towards London from Alnwick, the month long journey giving her ample time to grasp pieces of information from servants and fellow nobles.

Her Mother had told her to befriend this Elizabeth Woodville and she had decided she would. Or at least try to. Her family allegiance certainly helped, as did their past loyalty to her Father. The Woodvilles would most likely sympathise with her and from there, she would secure their friendship.

She only hoped Queen Marguerite would not hear.

Stepping out of the bath, a soft towel wrapped around her body, she allowed Margery to fetch a second, patting her hair dry before a clean shift was collected and lifted over her head. The gown laid out upon the bed that morning was not one to her taste, possessing murrey and blue silk forming the bodice and voluminous skirts that were to be draped around her.

She'd never worn the colours of York before and to see them displayed before her almost made her nose wrinkle in disgust. Still, it had been commissioned by Duchess Cecily and therefore she was to wear it, to show the House of York was united when welcoming a new member. When crowning it's first Queen.

But England already had a Queen, Catherine thought as Margery gentled the gown over her head, straightening the sleeves before she tied the silken laces. 'I shall bear it for my own good' She decided with a sigh, lifting her arms so a golden girdle could be fastened around her waist and an ivory comb was pulled through her hair, brushing out the flaxen curls until they shone as the sun did. Golden and glistening.

She was to wear her hair down that day, she knew and felt a smile touch her lips when her Duchess' coronet was placed on her head. Since Dickon had first presented it to her the day after her wedding, she had adored it, often taking it out of its golden casket to marvel are the rubies and pearls studding the shining gold. When he wore his coronet too, they looked a true royal pair, a Prince and Princess of the realm, just like they would be that day.

Catherine had not seen her husband since the previous evening when they arrived at the royal Palace and they assumed their separate chambers as was expected of them. She assumed he would already be about the castle, attending to his older brother while she listened to the bells of London peal. When she peered out of her bedchamber window she could see the city stretching over the large curtain wall, crowded and smoking.

Even though it was barely nine, the capital was already alive with an indescribable buzz that encased the land. Blue and murrey banners flew from every window and voices, both young and old, called for the new Queen. 'Elizabeth!' Catherine could here them cry through the panes of diamond glass, wondering if they used to do the same for Queen Marguerite, if the people that now called for York called as virulently for Lancaster.

If she once knew they did, now she did not remember.

"Come and look Margery!" She breathed when she suddenly saw garlands raise high into the sky, pulled up on ropes, stringing them from house to house.

They were garlands of flowers, of white roses in full bloom, their petals soft and delicate against the blue sky above. Margery obeyed, pushing open the window so the two could learn out and clearly hear the clamour of the crowds that had begun to line the city streets.

Dickon had told them the night before that the cobble would be covered with sand, golden grains that would glisten beneath the crimson carpet laid down the centre of the road. 'Edward says that he wants to give Elizabeth a coronation worthy of the Lord himself since their wedding was secret' George proceeded to explain when she asked why, rolling his eyes as he spoke the final word.

He was clearly not a supporter of the new Queen and took after Warwick in what she could imagine were his constant complaints about this 'commoner'. George never referred to her as Queen, only ever Elizabeth (which Dickon greatly frowned upon) and Catherine was tempted to do the same. She would have done the same, if her Mother hadn't given her orders.

Or rather, a plea.

Margery stepped away and Catherine gasped as two hands appeared on her waist; a determined chin rested on her shoulder.

"Dickon!" She exclaimed, watching her young husband grin before he released her and leant against the window ledge. He tilted his head back, letting the late spring breeze dance over his skin; listening to the city crowds.
"You look very pretty, Cate"
She smiled her serene smile, her eyes sweep him from head to toe, taking in his golden coronet and fine doublet made from cloth of gold.

"And you very handsome, my Lord"
Another smile twitched at the corners of his lips and he nodded his thanks, glancing down into the courtyard below where horses and a golden litter were gathered, it's velvet curtains blowing in the wind.
"Edward has left for the Abbey" He murmured, waving Margery away "They say that she is ready"

She meant the Queen and Catherine nodded, turning to leave when Dickon suddenly caught her arm, his fingers intertwining with hers. Their eyes met across the small space which they stood apart and the young Duchess immediately knew there was more for him to say "Warwick is...."

"Warwick is here" She finished easily, nodding without the fear or trembling she'd previously suffered. This was one encounter with her deadliest enemy she had spent the journey to London preparing for, readying herself to perform a curt curtsy and speak cold words that would suffice for polite etiquette.

Dickon nodded his usual short nod, carding a hand through his hair with his free hand which she took in her own "I am prepared, my Lord" She told him and he nodded his confidence in her, offering an arm so they could process down the halls of the Tower together. They did so with curious faces of youth (or at least Catherine did, Dickon kept himself reserved) peering out of each window to watch the stream of people that had begun to gather at the Tower gates.

"Look!" She breathed in wonder, pointing to the colourful garments each person wore, their very best for such an occasion.

"There shall be mummers too" He replied, looking ahead to the end of the corridor where he could see Isabel and Anne waiting, both girls donning new dresses of silk and satin. Increasing his grip on Catherine's arm, the Duke and Duchess advanced towards the small group gathered before the Queen's door, watching carefully as George and Warwick came into view.

The two were huddled together on a nearby bench, heads bent and brows furrowed in thought. Their voices could not be heard clearly, only distant mutterings and murmurings that refused to merge into coherent words. George's eyes flicked up when he heard footsteps approach and a smug smile lit his lips at the sight of his brother and sister in law.

"Ah, little brother!" He greeted, rising to his feet with his usual air of arrogance. Dickon nodded his head politely, a small grin snaking onto his lips as Warwick rose too, clapping the younger boy fondly on the shoulder.

"You have grown!" He remarked "I am sure of it!" That made Dickon stand up taller, looking expectantly at Warwick and then his wife who stared at one another with their usual cool demeanour "Ah, and of course, Princess Catherine" he swept a small bow, she a small curtsy "It is good to see you looking so....well"

Catherine arched an eyebrow, her chin jutting out slightly while she calculated a reply.
"And you, my Lord...." She smirked to herself "I admit I am surprised to see you looking so well after the shock of the past few months. It must be strange to see a new power by the King that is not your own"

Warwick arched an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing to a firm glare but, before he part his thin lips to bark a retort, the door beside them all opened and out stepped a golden goddess. At least, that was what Catherine thought she was.

Elizabeth Woodville truly was an embodiment of beauty, the epitome of loveliness with her golden hair flowing down to her waist and charming smile that beamed around at all before her. Dressed in a gown of cloth of gold, she truly looked a Queen and Catherine found herself automatically curtsying with Anne and Isabel while the men bowed. Both Richard and George stepped forth to greet her, the eldest complimenting her beauty while the younger said he prayed that she would have a son.

The Queen beamed at both of them, clasping their hands with elegant fingers as she thanked them for their kinship. When they stepped back, she nodded kindly, clutching her hands together while her blue eyes searched for a figure that was not there.

"Where is Edward?" She asked and Catherine could almost feel the smugness that was radiating from Warwick's body at that. The new Queen was clearly a woman not aquatinted with the customs of the court but what fault was that of hers?

"At the Abbey. He will watch the coronation from behind a screen, as is the custom" The Earl replied, a self satisfied smile on his face while Elizabeth's cheeks darkened to a flushed pink "My daughters will escort you, they have been trained for such occasions"

Anne and Isabel stepped forward expectantly but before they could take their places with the Queen a man stepped forward from behind her. His hair was greyed, as was his beard but he did not seem old and strode forward with a sense of power while he took the Queen's hand. A power newly won and relished all the more for it.

"The Queen has her own sisters to escort her" He told Warwick crisply and Catherine smirked at the realisation that this was Elizabeth's Father, Baron Rivers. A Lancastrian by all accounts and one of Warwick's most stout opposers.

He arched an eyebrow and the two Nevilles reluctantly stepped back, making way for the crowd of girls in white damask dresses that flooded behind the Queen. Catherine counted at least seven golden heads, each the same as the Queen, two of which carried the coronation furs of heavy velvet and soft ermine; held together with a clasp of emeralds and rubies.

Heads held high, the gaggle of Woodville women and their Father swept past, each with heavenly grins on their pretty faces, like a sea of angels floating through the Tower. Their light voices floated through the corridors, laughter and compliments, followed by Elizabeth's merry quips with made her sisters erupt into giggles.

The King's brothers and cousins were left to follow, Dickon and George marching either side of Warwick while the three girls walked behind. Anne hopped from foot to foot as they made their way down the winding staircases of the Tower, her little head trying to peek above those of her Father and cousins. Isabel elbowed her multiple time, each resulting in a glare from Catherine until the party came to a stop upon the lower flight of stairs.

Ahead, Elizabeth stood with her Father, smiling prettily while her sisters lifted the coronation furs onto her slender shoulders. Her lips were full, her eyes bright, her skin pale yet glowing in the rays of sun. A true Queen in the making.

"She is so beautiful, Issy!" Anne breathed, now able to see Elizabeth from where she stood on the higher steps. Isabel simply scowled and roughly elbowed her again, making the younger girl squeal in surprise.
"Anne you goose! Stop staring like an Idiot!" She hissed "I think she looks rather plain" Catherine scoffed, shaking her head. Trust Isabel to turn her pointed little nose up at the new Queen, casting her down in her eyes before she had even had a chance to be raised up.

Plain! Ha! One glance at Elizabeth would eliminate the very word from your mouth and replace it with something equal to what she was. Beautiful, radiant, angelic....Queenly. To say that she was anything else would only be a lie.

"At least she can smile" Catherine retorted "Unlike, somebody, Isabel" The Neville girl glared at her, fisting her hands in her lime green skirts while her cheeks flushed with anger.
"At least I'm not the daughter of a traitor"
Catherine scoffed again.
"I'd debate that"
"Why you...."

"Cate, come!" Dickon called, making the three girls turn to the bottom of the steps where he stood "You are to ride between George and I in the procession!" Looking up, Catherine noticed the Queen had vanished, her golden hair and lithe figure dissolved into the crowds that called her name. She arched an eyebrow, having expected to ride with the Neville girls.

"Not Warwick?"
Even Isabel seemed to listen at that and looked to her younger cousin expectantly. Dickon flushed an embarrassed red, carding a hand through his hair while trying to search for the right words to say. Warwick had not been pleased upon hearing the news moments ago and had stormed away; no doubt his eldest daughter would be just as disgruntled.

"It seems that he has been somewhat...." He hesitated slightly "Passed over by the Queen"

Just as predicted, Isabel instantly looked prepared to kill, turning to her little sister who simply looked saddened; delicate shoulders slumping. Dickon had witness the rage of the eldest Neville before and did not wish to again, so grabbed Catherine's hand, pulling her quickly down the steps while she cast a smug smile in Isabel's direction, waving.

He could not help but grin and patted her hand when she leant her head on his shoulder, giggling.
"Thank you, my Lord!"

꧁꧂

Seated upon a palfrey who's mane was pure as snow, Catherine rode between Dickon and George, finding herself smiling in her gown of murrey and blue. Ahead rode the Queen in a litter of pure gold, smiling her serene smile and even waving to the abundant crowds that gathered on the roadside.

Guards rode beside the procession, each bearing York standards that fluttered in the May breeze, the King's Sunne in Splendour shining bright upon the soft fabric. 'Dickon's emblem is to be a boar!' She remembered and began to wonder what hers would be. A Percy lion? A crescent? A red rose? She had a feeling she would have to select one from the House of York, a falcon and fetterlock or perhaps a boar like her husband?

Looking to him now she knew she would not mind the latter. He did not smile fully nor wave as George did but he seemed pleased all the same, one hand planted firmly on his thigh while he grinned at his surroundings.

White rose petals rained down from above, accompanied with the best wishes of the crowds and by the time they reached the towering building of Westminster Abbey, the streets were covered in them. Catherine pulled her palfrey to a stop along with the others, allowing Dickon to help her down so she could watch the Queen.

Elizabeth stepped from her litter with all the grace she could possess, holding her head high. Her brothers and sister curtsied, the eldest of the former taking her hand to help her down. Catherine marvelled at the sight, her young eyes dazzled by the myriad of splendour surrounding her. Even the abbey bore York pennants, blue and murrey linen streaming down the carved stone walls depicting England's Kings!

Still, rose petals seemed to rain down from the sky, covering the ground like a blanket of sweet smelling silk. The name Elizabeth filled the air, a prayer upon the lips of the people who hoped for a new ear of peace, for a Prince which they hoped the new Queen would soon give them.

A golden Queen for their golden King.

"Come" Dickon murmured, slipping his hand gently into hers with a small smile. He too now seemed entranced by the extravagance around them, gazing at the banners and well dressed courtiers standing either side of the Abbey isle when they stepped over the threshold. The building was cool compared to the warmth of outside, the cold air a welcoming change "We are at the front!" He told her, pulling her through rows and rows of nobles while she giggled.

George waved when they finally reached the front, making room for Catherine and his little brother between he and Baron Rivers who stood proud; sons behind. His wife, Jaquetta, stood with their many daughters on the opposite side of the isle, graceful, almost regal, in her gown of light blue damask and a steeple hennin that reached for the very heavens themselves.

There was a certain elegance to her, Catherine thought as she watched the tall woman brush the sheer veil of her headdress behind her shoulders. A certain elegance that spoke of nobility, of rank, and yet, she was only a Baron's wife! Nay, there must be more to it than that....

"You are Henry's daughter, are you not?"

Catherine's ears pricked up at the sound of a deep voice and glanced to the side to see Baron Rivers staring down at her, his eyes bright and kind "The daughter of the Earl of Northumberland?" He continued and she nodded, remembering what her Mother had told her of the Woodville alliance to the Percy's.

"I am, Sir. And you must be the Father of the Queen?" Now it was his turn to nod and her smile widened, letting him take her hand; press a gentle kiss to it "My Mother tells me that you fought by my Father....for me?" She had looked around before she let those words loose from her lips, knowing the danger they posed. Luckily dear Dickon was in deep conversation with his brother and sister, so she was free to speak.

Again, the Baron nodded, one calloused hand sweeping his velvet cap from his head to his chest while he bowed.

"I was greatly saddened to hear of his death. He was a fine man" Catherine beamed, nodding her thanks while tears of happiness filled her eyes. It had been so long since she had heard any soul speak well of her Father, so long since she was reminded he was loved and supported by the nobility of England. Now, she knew for sure and quickly gasped the Baron's hand, whispering her gratitude while his sons nodded in the background.

"It was an honour to fight for him, my Lady" One said, clearly the eldest with tousled blonde hair and a kind smile like his Father's. Again, his brothers nodded their agreement, leaving Catherine to wipe a single tear from her cheek before royal trumpets began to blare and the Queen entered the chapel.

Elizabeth walked down the isle step by careful step, holding her head high while the light from the abbey windows shone upon her. When she passed those at the front, Catherine was sure her hair had become a mass of pure gold, spun into heavenly curls like a halo around her head.

Glancing up, she saw the gilded screen that hid the King and knew that he must be smiling as Elizabeth knelt before the Archbishop who was to crown her; demurely crossing herself. She did not appear a woman who was the epitome of demure but at that moment she seemed so, humbly rising from her knees to ascend to the throne of England from which she was to rule.

"God save the Queen!" Catherine cried with the rest when Elizabeth took her place and felt satisfied that Warwick was glaring somewhere behind her.

Her Father would be glad of that.

꧁꧂

The great hall was alive with the buzz of celebration, lit by the midday light streaming through the large arched windows. The court sat at long trestle tables, each full of the most scrumptious delights the cooks could conjure upon their King's command.

Roasted pigs bearing apples in their open mouths, swans placed on top of pies, their wings elegantly spread, lay on golden plates, most partially eaten by the eager guests, each hungry from the coronation. It had been a ceremony of great splendour but also great length, lasting for what seemed like an eternity with each prayer that had to be said, each 'God save the Queen' that had to be sung.

By the time the celebrations returned to Westminster, all were ravenous and took their places with relief; filling their plates.

Catherine sat in between Mary Woodville and Dickon, the Neville girls and George opposite her. The golden haired beauties that were the Queen's sisters were nice enough, she thought, even if they were rather quiet. Each of them resembled one another in some way, a quality George had quickly pointed out before naming them 'beautiful fish'. Catherine had choked on her drink at that, pretending to cough while she tried to compose herself.

Dickon had merely let a smile twitch at the corners of his lips, quieter than a mouse as he always was when under the eyes of the court. The nobles seemed to unsettle him, almost frighten him in a way and that his wife could understand, prompting her to keep her hand on his. She sipped her wine slowly, constantly looking down the hall to the royal dais where the King and Queen sat, almost huddled together while they whispered.

None could doubt that Elizabeth was Queen now and the crown of England glimmered upon her head, comfortably set on her brow.
"It suits her" Mary said, voice laced with dreams of a crown for herself, and Catherine could not help but agree, draining the sweet contents of her goblet before signalling for more.

"Princess Catherine?"

She looked up to see the stony face of Warwick staring down at her and froze, instinctively tightening her hold on Dickon's hand while the others at the table glanced upwards from their plates.
"My Lord Warwick" She greeted with a short incline of her head "What do you want?"
"The King has called for you" He replied bitterly, rolling his eyes before he strolled away, motioning for George to follow.

The second son of York obeyed and, as he rose, Catherine did too, squeezing her husband's hand but shaking her head when he asked if he wanted company. 'No' She thought, stepping away from the trestle table, though the offer was sweet with temptation 'I shall do this myself'

It was her duty to make friends with the Queen. Elizabeth must like her for herself, not simply for the sake of her connection with the King's brother. And so, she stepped forth, walking down the centre of the hall; towards the large dais where the King and Queen still whispered. Catherine did not know what they were saying but whatever it was seemed to make them both smile. A secret smile that was meant only for them and she found she had to avert her eyes at.

Casting her gaze to the ground, she gathered her blue and murrey skirts to sweep a deep curtsy.
"Ah, little sister!" Edward's voice boomed when he noticed her presence, detaching himself from his enchanting Queen to focus on the young girl before him.

"Congratulations, your graces!" She said when she rose, forcing jubilation into her voice even though the day was one she'd enjoyed.

It was not to be forgotten that her true Queen was Marguerite of Anjou, her true King, Henry of Lancaster.

Edward grinned all the same, looking to Elizabeth who smiled down at the little Duchess like an angel upon mortals; with charm and regality.
"I wanted you to meet the Queen. I think that she would like to meet you!"

"Indeed I would!" Elizabeth agreed, beckoning the girl forward with a pale finger. Catherine did as she was bade, stepping up the dais just as she had done for Queen Marguerite only this time she did not kneel, she stood. Stood and curtsied. The Queen's eyes swept over her, like two sapphires assessing the value of another jewel. But not unkindly, she simply watched the girl with interest before smiling.

"My darling, this is...."

"No, no need to tell me" Elizabeth commanded softly, her gentle voice calm like a summer breeze upon the wind; floating through the air "I know who Catherine is" Catherine's eyes widened and she looked to the King in question. He merely smiled, gazing at his wife with a degree of amusement while she continued to watch the girl in front of her "You remind me of a little bird, dear one" She murmured.

Again, Elizabeth beckoned, luring Catherine closer until she could place one hand to her face. It was surprisingly cold, like ice even, and the girl would have pulled away if she had not been so drawn to the flaxen haired beauty. Almost like a magnet to metal "Delicate and afraid to fly, but I can make you strong enough to soar, if you will let me"

Catherine could only stare, her mouth forming into a small O while Elizabeth smiled, stroking her cheek until she released her once more "We will be friends" She said "Good friends as....as I believe we already have one common enemy" Eyes flicking to the far corner of the hall, Catherine's followed and she grinned when she saw Warwick.

George was not by his side but the Earl seemed fine in his own company, possessing a smile the Queen remarked could rival Satan's.
"Now now" Edward chuckled, patting her hand "He is simply unused to our marriage but he will grow to love you, just as I do" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, nodding Catherine away and watching her curtsy with another small smile.

"Friends?" She called after her and the little Duchess turned from where she stood.
"Friends, your grace"

It was as easy as that.