~King's Curse~

May 1466, Westminster Palace....

"It's insane!" George cried as Richard dressed behind the brocade screen by the fire, listening to his brother pace angrily back and forth "To give her sister to one of the highest nobles in the land? Ha! It's nothing less than treason!"

"It's not treason, George" Richard retorted, pulling on his doublet of cloth of gold and letting his squire attend to the laces "She is the Queen!"
"She wasn't until Ned decided his cock couldn't do without her!"
"But still, she is Queen, George"

"Her yokel sister is not!" He snapped "Why should Henry Stafford, the Duke of Buckingham be made to marry the daughter of a country squire? That's like you being married to another of the Woodville girls!"

"But I'm not!" Richard drawled, George's annoyance making him grin a little behind the screen. The older boy scoffed.
"No" He muttered dully "You're married to Cat like the lucky git you are. She may be Lancastrian but at least she is noble!"

"She is not Lancastrian!" Richard protested and George's mocking laughter rang out as he poured himself yet another goblet of wine. His fourth that morning.

"Oh? Then what is she?"
"I don't know" His brother grumbled, letting his squire lift his chain of office over his head before he waved him away "She's not for York but I don't know"

George tutted to himself, taking a sip of wine while Richard emerged from behind the dressing screen, admiring himself in the long mirror on the wall.

"It suits you well, little brother"
The younger of the pair raised his eyebrows in thanks, putting his hands on his shoulders and pressing down as if to flatten them "What are you doing?"
"Making sure my doublet is straight"
"Really?"
"Oh shut up, George!"

"What has dear George done now?" Catherine's merry voice asked as she walked through the doors of her husband's chambers. She wore a gown of light blue brocade, the small heels of her shoes tapping upon the stone floor.

The neckline was fashionably low, allowing room for the diamond necklace she wore over the golden chain that kept Prince Edward's ring safe beneath her bodice; filled by her growing breasts. Her golden hair was pulled back into an intricate braid, woven with silk ribbons that framed the pearl earrings she wore. It was easy to see that she looked older than her thirteen years, fifteen or sixteen at least, George thought, and smirked at the way his little brother blushed at the enchanting sight.

"I shall see you at the chapel" He said, raising from his seat to kiss Catherine's hand before he strolled easily from the room, whistling smugly to himself. The young Duchess chuckled when he'd gone, sidling up to her husband who appeared frozen where he stood.

"So?" She asked quietly, reaching out to gently adjust his intricate chain of office "What were you telling our dear brother to shut up about?"
"The Woodvilles. Again" Richard sighed, snatching up her hands before they could reach his shoulders. Thankfully, she did not seem to notice; simply smiled as he kissed her palms affectionately "Does he ever complain about anything else, Cate?"

Catherine shrugged, shaking her head in admittance. George truly did not complain about anything else, he took after Warwick in that way. Both of them loved nothing more than to whine about the Woodville presence at court and the power Elizabeth held over the King. George was only at court because his Mother had requested it! Warwick was still sulking in the North.

The thought of her hated enemy denied the light he craved for his own ambition brought a smile to her lips and she quickly pressed a kiss to Richard's cheek, taking joy in the heated flush it brought to his pale skin. It seemed she had the same effect on him as he did on her!

"Come along, husband" She said brightly, taking his arm "We have a wedding to attend!"

꧁꧂

Two small children knelt before the alter, a boy with flaxen hair and a girl with golden ringlets that flowed down to her waist. They were young to be married but dynastic alliances had to be made and Catherine remembered well her own child marriages. They were not all bad and she only hoped the Duke of Buckingham was akin to Georgie or Dickon, though from the way he sulked throughout the ceremony she doubted it.

Henry Stafford seemed to share George's feelings about being married off to the youngest daughter of the Woodville clan and went to great efforts to show his displeasure. While little Cathy Woodville beamed, he frowned, not once smiling throughout the whole ceremony. His feelings could be understood, Catherine supposed, to be married with no choice was not the most pleasing experience on this earth.

But he could've at least tried to appease his young bride!

George was grinning from ear to ear next to his Mother, pleased his misgivings for the match had payed off. Edward nudged him twice but he payed no attention and continued to take delight in the spectacle.

When the two walked back down the chapel isle, hand in reluctant hand, the young Duke could not have looked more peeved with his lot. While those around her giggled, Catherine found she could not, sending a sympathetic smile in Henry's direction, one he surprisingly returned.

"Look at little Cathy with her sulky new husband, the Duke!" Elizabeth quipped, rocking Lizzie back and forth in her arms as the court began to disperse, ready to retire to the feast awaiting them.

"Who knew such a happy occasion could make so many to miserable!" Jaquetta remarked from the other side, holding her head high as she descended from her pew along with her daughter and the young  Duchess.
"Lord Warwick is not even here!" 

"All the better for every soul at court!" Catherine could not help but add before smiling as Richard joined her, slipping his hand into hers. Together, they strolled up to the King and Queen, he bowing while Elizabeth smiled affectionately, light behind her eyes of blue.
"Congratulations, your grace, on your first York Princess!"

"She is not a boy, though" Duchess Cecily remarked curtly while she glided by in her usual fashion "So you have no heir"
"Oh I shall have many more, Duchess Cecily!" Elizabeth returned brightly while Edward simply rolled his eyes "and the next one shall be a boy!"
"Hm" Cecily murmured, clearly doubtful "Catherine, my dear, come"

Curtsying to the Queen, Catherine sought to make her way to her Mother in law only to hear trumpets blare at the castle gates. Every head in the chapel looked up and suddenly a multitude of curious eyes stared at the open doors, listening as the trumpets called out again.

"To the courtyard!" Edward ordered but the command needn't have passed his lips. Nothing could've stopped the Yorkist court from flooding towards the Palace entrance and Catherine found herself almost running beside her husband to keep up with the rest.

"What is it, my Lord?" She asked but Richard only shook his head, placing an arm around her waist so she would not be lost to the bustling crowd. Even he did not know. It was the unknown.

Pushing through the sea of brightly dressed bodies, Catherine and Richard fought their way to the steps while the court gathered upon the stone balcony above. Again the trumpets called out and Catherine's skin turned to ice as she saw the sight before her.

Warwick, sitting on his steed as proud as a King with a gleaming grin that could match a dragon looking upon a hoard of gold.

But it was not he that drained the colour from her cheeks. It was not him that made her breaths slow and goosebumps erupt over her arms and legs as she shivered in the May heat. It was not him....for once it was not him.

It was King Henry.

Her one true King of England.
Only he did not look the King of England now.

Dressed in little more than rags, his hands were tied behind his back, his sallow skin covered with grime and dirt. His hair, once dark, was greyed and thinned, a tangled mass around his skeletal face and eyes that appeared sunken into his skull. He looked afraid as he glanced around at the court, like a child trembling before his Father when he had done wrong. He looked so small, this King of England, so weak and helpless.

Almost like little Lizzie who now squirmed in her nurse's arms.

This was the man who had smiled upon her, who had sat by Queen Marguerite and Prince Edward while she was praised and favoured. This was the King. God's anointed King, and yet he had been brought so low. And if he had been brought this low, how low were his wife and son? Where were they now? Were they to languish in a prison cell as he surely would? Would they suffer as he would, as he did?

Death crept through Catherine's veins, inching its way ever closer to her heart and she leant against the nearest wall, one hand covering her mouth to conceal the sob. It was then she realised Richard had released her hand, was no longer by her side. He had joined his brothers at the bottom of the courtyard steps, his fists clearly clenched at his sides though his wife's eyes were blurred with tears.

Almost blind, she stumbled down the steps, her feet taking her automatically towards the fallen Lancastrian King. She wanted to comfort him, wanted to reassure him for she could see he was dazed in madness once more.

"I present to you, our one time King Henry!" Warwick roared, pointing at the old man with a triumphant grin on his face. It made Catherine sick "He was roaming the fields of Northumberland but I have ridden out and captured him!" Her heart sunk, another sob threatening to escape her at the name of her homeland.

King Henry had been roaming Northumberland, half starved and half mad, what if he had been seeking protection from her family? Her family who was no longer there. How could he have known any better in such a state?

"And you have brought him in!" Edward laughed, striding forward to greet his cousin while the court watched on with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

The next few moments seemed to slow almost to a halt, passing before Catherine's eyes in a blur she managed to see through. Richard's face contorted with anger and, before anyone could stop him, his hand curled around the hilt of his sword, pulling it free from its scabbard. His wife's eyes widened, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as she realised what he was about to do.

He was going to kill a King.

"No!"

Tripping over her skirts, Catherine stumbled down the steps as Richard surged forward, her feet pushing further and further towards him. She had to stop him. She had to!

"Let us take vengeance for our Father whom he murdered!" Richard roared, trying to advance further only to find Catherine's hands grab at his doublet, hauling her small body between he and the Lancastrian King. Tears rolling down her face, she held him back, pushing with all her feeble strength while a gasp arose from the court. She shook her head.

"No, Dickon. No"
"He murdered my Father and brother and stuck their heads on spikes!" Richard spat "Do not hold me back, my lady!" Catherine shook her head again, placing her hands tenderly on the side of his face when he tried to run forward once more.

"No" She said again, her voice almost a whisper though she knew she must be firmer. She must be determined to quell the enraged boy before her who saw naught but his own lust for blood "No, Dickon" She repeated; tone now harsher, commanding "You will not do that" Richard's face crumpled and he shook his head, pointing his sword at the man behind.

"He is a murderer, Catherine"
She cupped his face firmer, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs and wiping away the tears that had begun to escape his eyes.
"Well if he is a murderer then how shall you be any better if you match him in his butchery, hm?" She demanded "How, Dickon?"

Richard sniffed, his sword arm trembling as he lowered the sharpened blade "He is an anointed King. It will do you no good to harm him....murderer or not"

"She's right, little brother" Edward murmured, slowly approaching the couple and motioning for George to take Richard's sword "It will do no good" Within moments the blade was free of his trembling hand and a distressed cry alerted them all to his Mother rushing down the steps, the veil of her hennin flying behind her.

Cecily was unusually pale, her blue eyes bright with tears and her cheeks void of colour. She did not look at Warwick's captive, not once, not for a moment. She only clutched her youngest boy to her chest when she reached him, cradling Richard as if he were a babe again.

His shaking arms wrapped around her, holding her close as she led him inside and the other's watched in stony silence.

"It's alright, my darling" They heard Cecily whisper, running a hand through Dickon's unruly curls and Catherine swayed on her feet, trying to stay upright as a voice from behind called her name. Softly, slowly, like a breath on the wind.

She turned, tears pooling in her eyes once more as she looked up to King Henry, his childlike smile shining down upon her.
"Little Catherine" He whispered, tilting his head, an almost gleeful note to his voice. As if she were the light in his world of darkness "My friend! It's been too long since I saw you last!"

"I know, your grace" She replied quietly, feeling Edward step up behind her, placing his strong hands on her shoulders.
"We tried to get you back!" Henry continued lightly. "My darling Marguerite and Edward tried so hard to get you back!" He smiled again, terror still in his eyes but not in his voice, he spoke to her as if he were still King, as if he were safe.

Her lower lip began to tremble like a child's and she sniffed, not once tearing her eyes from the bedraggled man before her. No one ever mentioned her kidnapping, how hard her family and Lancaster had fought for her but Henry had. King Henry had and to hear it spoken aloud, set free into the air, made her heart shatter, her soul tear.

"I know, your grace" She wept and Edward's grip tightened.

"Go inside" He murmured gently, turning her around without having to use an ounce of strength. She was like a rag doll in his arms, craning her neck to keep her eyes on the Lancastrian King, while she was passed from Edward to George. He did not guide her, he lifted her from the floor, cradling her body to his as her carried her up the courtyard steps, glaring at the courtiers that dared to stare.

"He is a traitor! And an enemy to my rule!" They heard Edward announce behind them and Catherine groaned, trying to look back but George would not let her, carrying her indoors before she could hear the next of his brother's words.
"Don't listen" He whispered "Don't listen, Cat"

꧁꧂

Catherine did not notice the day turned night, the shadows dancing across her floor while the sky was painted in hues of amber and gold. She had sent Margery away to the wedding feast hours ago, declining her aid and her company for the silence of solitude.

She stared blankly up at the canopy of her bed, hot tears streaming from her eyes and onto the damp pillows below. It was strange but she could not seem to stop crying, not once. The tears pooled in her eyes like a river of sadness, waiting to be released into the world in the hope of giving her some relief. It did not. After a while she grew numb inside, the hands of death stretching out inside of her; crushing the life within so the only thing she felt was the steady flow of water trickling down her cheeks.

'Poor Henry' She thought, thinking of the pitiful state of a man she had seen that afternoon, out of his wits and without a scrap of power to hand. Like a babe. A squealing babe in its crib; dependant on the care of others.

Only there was no care for him now. There was only a life of isolation and the same four walls each morning, noon and night. He would be placed in the Tower and there he would stay until he died. When would that be? Would he be left to take his last breath on his own account or would it be forced from his body by rough hands and a blade at his throat? Catherine shivered.

Such a man did not deserve a fate like that but, then again, who ever had a fate that they deserved?

The wheel of fortune rose and fell as quickly as waves crashed against the shore, there was no telling which way it would turn. Fortune of one could fall while another one rose and within hours it could change, within minutes, within seconds. You could wake at dawn a Prince and by sunset be a pauper. You could wake alive and by supper be dead, that was how uncertain the world was.

Perhaps that was what would happen to King Henry. How many sunsets was he to see before the last graced his eyes and he found himself beneath the earth?

Tears continued to stream down Catherine's cheeks at the thought and she continued to stare up at the canopy of her bed. She did not know how long she lay there, how many hours she spent in her chamber while the wedding feast raged in the great hall below. All she remembered was the creak of her bedchamber door and the soft click of it closing before a pair of feet padded towards her.

Suddenly, Richard was on the bed, lying on his side while he gazed down at her. He did not speak a word, he hardly breathed as he leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Catherine's eyes flicked to his, noticing they were just as reddened as hers were. Reaching feebly upwards, she placed a hand to his cheek, brushing the damp skin beneath her fingers.

"You've been crying"

"As have you" He replied softly, smoothing back locks of loose hair from her face with tender fingers. Slowly, carefully, he slid down beside her, placing his head next to hers on the pillow beneath and watching, trying to read her thoughts with his gaze "I am sorry for today. I know Warwick frightened you"

"It was not Warwick...." Catherine whispered, turning to face him so their eyes met, their tearstained faces mere inches apart "It was you, Dickon, you scared me. I thought you were going to kill him....only, I cannot imagine you killing any man, not ever" She placed a hand to his mouth in protest, noticing with a blush how smooth his lips were beneath her fingers "Don't do it again....please" Richard only nodded, gently taking her hand and bestowing a kiss to the pulse in her wrist.

"I'm sorry, Cate...." He began but she only shushed him, bringing him into her arms before he could breathe another word. Soon enough, he settled himself, content to lie in her embrace, head on her chest while she ran a hand through his hair.
"It was hard for you too, Richard. It was hard for both of us"

He nodded his agreement, feeling another hot tear glide down his cheek at the memory of the courtyard, of King Henry, the ruler of the house he despised. One day his bitch of a Queen would be caught too, he was sure of it but he would not say that to Catherine, it would only serve to upset her more. She knew of his hatred, he did not need to repeat it.

"I think it's best we return to Middleham" He said instead "Warwick shall not be there until Christmas at least" He added quickly, eager for his wife to agree with him. Richard had never liked the court and he liked it even less now "None of the Nevilles shall be! It will just be me, you, Francis, Rob and the other squires!"

"And Margery" She whispered, making him smile.
"Yes, Cate, and Margery"

Looking up at her, he was pleased to see her smile and felt his heart beat a little quicker at the sight of it. Recently, he had concluded he had not seen a smile so beautiful and to coax it from her was one of his greatest pleasures.
"No Warwick" She murmured, glancing down at him. "Just us. Just us and our friends. You are telling the truth?"

Richard nodded, sending his idea appealed to her.
"When have I ever lied to you?"
"Never" She replied instantly and he hugged her closer, content with that single word.

They would be returning in summer and summer meant hunting, picnics in the hills which he wagered she would adore. He would teach her to love Middleham as he did, even if it meant she had to face her fears but, with no Neville presence to bother her he thought the task all the easier.

"Let us return to Middleham, Cate"
She nodded, staring up at the canopy of her bed.
"Yes. Let us return for I do not want to be here. I just want to be with you, my Lord"

꧁꧂

Late June 1466, North Yorkshire....

Richard grimaced once again that morning as a bolt of pain shot down his back, driving through his right shoulder like a pike through flesh. Catherine frowned from where she rode beside him, noticing the way he tried to swallow his pain with a thick veneer of brooding. It seemed their journey from London to Yorkshire had not done him well, as she had hoped.

Their intention in leaving the capital had been to escape the pain they felt there (even if Middleham was not her first option) but Richard's pain had only seemed to grow. Each night she would sit on his bed and gently work to release the tension wrought up in his shoulders. He had taken to slumping over when she did that and she assumed it was because of the pain but the relief she provided was only momentary and both knew it would be back the following evening.

One night, when they supped in private while residing at an inn, she suggested he send for a physician but that idea had been one her husband had cast to the wind upon it being spoken.

"It would do no good, dear Cate!" He returned, waving a hand, causing flecks of the soup they ate to splash onto the tablecloth from his spoon "I am sure it is nothing some good Northern air and training in the tiltyard cannot fix! I have been in the South for too long" He concluded "I have neglected my strength and now I am paying for it!"

'You have had these pains long before' Catherine had wanted to argue but she could see the determination in her young husband's eyes and forced herself to bite her tongue. To argue would do no good for them, so she simply shuffled closer to him, resting her hand atop his.

Now, he shuffled uncomfortably in his saddle, fists curling around his leather reigns each time it felt like a thousand needles pricked his skin; the muscle beneath.

"Are you well, my Lord?" Catherine asked quietly, well aware her husband would not want his discomfort drawn to the attention of their travelling party. Taking a shaking break, meant to wrench power back to himself, he sent her a wry smile, carding a hand through his dark hair.

"Of course, my Lady" He replied cordially "Why should I not be? The sun is shining, welcoming us home to the North!" Catherine returned his smile, glad his pain seemed in passing and not constant.
"Welcoming you, you mean" She teased "This is your home!"
"And where is yours?"

A small sigh passed her lips, eyes flicking up to the sky in thought.
"I don't know, Dickon" She replied sadly. Her home had once been Alnwick, then it had been Haddon. After that, she had had no home, she simply slept upon whichever fine bed she was bade to sleep on "I don't have a home but I'm not so sure I need one anymore"

Richard frowned at that, nudging his horse closer to hers as they walked along the winding road, their guards close behind.

"Everyone needs a home" He said softly, watching his wife with saddened eyes, and believed in his words. Each person, rich or poor, high or low, needed a home; a place to lay their roots.

While he had not been the most fortunate in laying down the roots of his life due to the war raging around him, he had found a home at Middleham. That was where his life has lain since he had been eight, and it was a sad thought to think that Catherine did not have the same. She had never had the same really, not since she was six and he doubted she remembered the feeling of true family. All she had had was Georgie and now him.

Instinctively, he reached out to placed his hand in hers only to recoil as a mother bolt of pain shot down his spine at the sudden movement.
"You need to rest" Catherine murmured, looking to the town up ahead and the now dusky sky.

He could not find it in himself to disagree with her.