~The Royal Road to Fotheringhay~

December 1467, Fotheringhay, Northamptonshire....

The air blew cold around them as Richard pulled his steed to a halt, icy flecks of snow, landing and melting on their warm cheeks. His hand on her waist, he slowly guided her to the side, a shy grin curving his lips while one gloved hand pointed into the grey clouds of the horizon.

"Look!"

Catherine smiled at his whisper, the unusual sound of excitement seeping into his voice and therefore creeping into hers too. For the entirety of their two week journey from the North, their souls seemed to have become one. They shared each thought, each breath, each moment where they laughed and smiled, talking of their new life together.

And finally, they had arrived at it.

A small gasp escaped the young Duchess' lips at the sight of the castle in the near distance, its tall turrets and strong walls just as the drawing in the York book had depicted. The same thatched cottages she had seen lined the river, laying claim to the banks supporting Fotheringhay's small village; its towering church. Despite the winter cold, the fields surrounding the castle and its deep, icy moat, were green with lush grass that waved in the wind.

"See!" Richard chuckled, nudging his horse into a walk when he heard saw the procession ahead enter the castle gates "Even Mother Nature welcomes us to our new home!"

"And the people!" Catherine chimed, pointing to the blue and murrey flag quickly raising high above the fetterlock bailey while smoke streamed from the kitchen chimneys "I hope they like us!"

"Like us!" Her husband echoed "Why, they shall love us, Cate! As long as we prove just and fair rulers which is what I intend to be!" A determined tilt of his chin assured her of his words and Catherine grinned beneath the hood of her cloak. He had talked so much of how he wished to rule the land that was now his, as if he were a King finally crafting his own Kingdom! Perhaps that was truly how he saw it? A way of imitating his adored elder brother?

He wanted to make Edward proud, that was a certainty, though she for one was sure he could never do anything but! Only, there was a sense he wished to do the dead proud too. His Father, who had once owned this great fortress. Fotheringhay had been the jewel in the late Duke's magnificent crown of castles and both he and his wife took great pride in it, working to enhance its luxurious interior and land.

Work Richard wished to continue.

Each night before they retired in one great manor or another, he would tell her of his plans, of his hopes and dreams for England now he had been set free unto the world. Lit by the candles by their bed, his features would almost dance with dreams, eyes bright with ambition. York ambition. He proved talented with pencil and parchment, to her surprise, and he could often be found sketching when they rested in an evening.

'For the chapel' He'd told her when she saw the white roses he'd drawn, joined with a boar 'It was my Father's pride and joy and I would like to enhance it! When you have your sigil we shall add that too!'

His words filled her mind with wonder, making her see heavenly stars while he painted a picture of peace before her, of a harmonious land in which they would live. Could ever such a land be?

"Do you think they shall love me?" She wondered aloud, frowning slightly to herself "After all, the people her are loyal to York and I'm...."

"A York too" Richard interrupted, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek "You are my wife and Duchess, ma belle. A York!" He squeezed her waist and she knew he was smirking "Well, almost, although, now we are to establish our own household I dare to hope that may be remedied?"

Now it was Catherine's turn to smirk and she glanced over her shoulder, gently coaxing her lips to his.
"Maybe" She whispered softly "After all, I do remember well the pleasure you gave me before we left Middleham"

"Pleasure I would gladly give again!"
Kissing him again, she faced forward once more, settling comfortably into his firm embrace while they approached the great castle.

Their castle.

She smiled, finding one hand wandering to her belly and gently resting against the place where a baby would grow beneath yards of fine silk. Looking upon the river bank and the calm surroundings, Catherine could easily imagine a small child playing, their light laughter carrying through the air like the giggle of a cherub. She closed her eyes, leaning her head against Richard's chest.

Their own child, their very own Prince or Princess. She could well see her husband as a Father. For all his brooding, his serious looks and constant criticisms of the bloody world around him, she had seen how he acted when it came to those he loved and he would love his child, she was sure of it. How could he not?

Catherine took a breath and they rode closer to the drawbridge that lay open across the moat, guarded by soldiers garbed in Gloucester livery with white boars emblazoned on the linen. They stood tall as the Duke passed, saluting him as if he were no less than a King and Catherine felt him sit up a little straighter in his saddle.

The courtyard was alive with the buzz of new arrivals, chickens clucking, flapping frantically as servants bustled by, carrying large coffers and caskets between them. Her servants she realised with a pleased pang. Men and women that answered only to her and Richard, not to the word of Warwick!

The large great hall, next to the York chantry, stood tall amongst men, it's arched windows gleaming in the mid-winter sun while the scent of cooked meat, roasting over spits, mingled with the heat from the kitchens.

"We shall feast well tonight, my love" Richard whispered, making her grin as she looked to the high motte opposite the great hall, it's stony walls marked with clinging vines of ivy that framed the windows. Sturdy ramparts adorned the top, a place where soldiers and the Duke and Duchess could survey the land for friend and foe; a place to watch the sun rise and set in all its magnificence.

Stairs led from each side, sloping down the mound of grassy earth until the right attached to the gatehouse and the left the first of three round towers. Fabric fluttered down the sides as blue and murrey banners were unwound, hanging from sturdy wooden poles over the ramparts, turning the stone buildings to theirs. Truly.

"A home" Catherine whispered under her breath and Richard dismounted behind her, landing on the cobbled earth with a heavy thud of his boots and a slight wince at the pain in his shoulder. Long days of riding never did him good, no matter how hard he tried. Reaching upward, he swiftly lifted her to the ground, linking their arms while she gazed at their surrounding with evident glee.

"Would you like to explore?" He asked and Catherine's eyes lit with youthful excitement, her happy nod all the reply he needed to take her hand and run into the castle.

Just as if they were still the two children who had walked into the Westminster Palace chapel three years earlier.

꧁꧂

"It's so big!" Catherine exclaimed as she twirled through yet another curving corridor of the bailey, smiling into the winter light flooding through each window. Richard followed eagerly behind, his cloak long cast aside with hers so he was free to move as he pleased "It is truly ours?"

"Truly!" He replied, mirroring her enthusiasm for exploring every inch of Fotheringhay's winding halls. They had spent at least two hours running, almost flying, peeking through every door as if they were not doors they had every right to walk freely through. This was their land, their home and never again would they be ordered from one room or another on account of being irritating or not needed! They would speak the orders now.

A true Lord and his Lady.

It gave Catherine a thrill each time the thought crossed her avid mind!

Even though none of the rooms boasted the finest furnishings yet, the bare spaces only gave her room to imagine how luxurious they could become. Tapestries would line every wall, fires would be stoked in every hearth, she would have her own solar just as the Countess of Warwick had done!

"Oh Richard" She breathed when she leant out of one wide window to gaze across the courtyard and the land, smiling when his lips gently brushed against her neck.
"Oh Cate" He replied teasingly, locking his arms around her waist "Are you happy, sweetheart? I do so want to make you happy!" His smile widened at her nod and he held her tighter, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I know, and you have, my love and......" Her voice trailed away as a carriage trundled under the raised portcullis, it's heavy curtains drawn shut "Who is that, Dickon?" Richard peered downward, taking her hand and leading her away from the window before the carriage could come to a halt. She tried to look over her shoulder but her husband was too fast, pulling her eagerly down the hallway to the winding staircase they had ascended only an hour ago.

Hidden in the alcove that led to the marble steps, he gently pressed her against the cool stone, causing a hot flush to stain her cheeks. Without warning, he crushed his lips to hers, desperate and all consuming, causing her to wrap her arms around him, letting the coil in her belly tighten deliciously.

"I was thinking" He gasped when he pulled away, gazing adoringly into her face. Catherine smiled, giggling at his eagerness when he swept her away from the wall, beginning to walk determinedly down the winding stairs.
"Thinking?" She laughed "My, be careful not to hurt yourself, my Lord!"

"Oh hush, ma belle" He told her, tugging them to a slower pace while he tried to catch his breath, regretting his eagerness as a bolt of pain shot down his spine "I was thinking, about what you said, that families should not be parted and...." He paused for breath, lingering at the bottom of the stairwell that led to the great chamber on the first floor of the bailey. "And, you were right. Families should not be parted and you have been parted from yours for far too long"

Catherine frowned in confusion, her words fading to silence in her throat as a pair of shoes tapped along the stone of the hall. Glancing to the side, her eyes went wide at the willowy figure that stood before her, hands clasped, a sheer veil covering golden hair.

The young Duchess shook her head, tears stinging her eyes as her vision became blurred and she stumbled forward, one feeble hand rising, curling in front of her yet grasping nothing, like trying to capture smoke. The woman pushed back her veil, revealing pale skin and a smile that seemed all the light the world needed in a time of darkness.

Only this smile had not been seen for so long. For eight long years, Catherine had been deprived of this angelic smile and its warmth, the love and care of the woman who held it. A woman she thought she had forgotten but remembered with one glance.

"Mother....."

Catherine fell to her knees but even before they could hit the cold stone beneath, a warm pair of arms wrapped around her, encasing her in the intoxicating blanket of childhood comfort she had been denied for so long. The sweet smell of roses assailed her senses, swirling around her mind in a cloud of love so strong, Catherine could not help but cling to it. And cling to it she did, letting a sob pass her lips as her Mother embraced her.

"Oh, my darling girl, my jewel" Eleanor whispered and her daughter trembled, beginning to weep into her shoulder, as did she, her heart fit to burst with love for the young girl, no, woman she held.
"Mother" Catherine whispered again "Mother...."
"Shhh, my Cate....I'm here, I'm here"

"It's been so long...."

"I know" Eleanor sobbed, clutching her daughter all the tighter. It had been eight years.....eight years since she last held her thus "I know, my jewel but I'm here now.....I am here with you" Catherine's tear stained face peered up at her, one trembling hand cupping her cheek as a broken smile fought her way to her lips. The dazed look in her blue eyes was one of disbelief, heavenly disbelief, like one who had been blessed by angels.

"Mother" She said again, her voice a mere breath on the wind, barely there and Eleanor smiled, bringing her girl closer into her embrace. Her girl, her daughter, she thought with an aching heart, one so wracked with pain she had been sure she would never again feel true happiness. Not until that moment when she once more held her darling daughter in her arms.

꧁꧂

Richard took to his own chambers that night, leaving Catherine and her Mother to her own, allowing them the time and privacy both had so long thought they would never have. By the time day turned to dusk, both women had exhausted themselves of tears and they ate their supper in dazed contentment, exchanging small smiles; quiet laughs.

There was no awkwardness, as there might have been with some so long parted. Their hearts and minds were relaxed, allowing them a gentle flow of conversation that came easily to their lips.

Now, in the warmth of the Duchess' chambers, the fire stoked hot before them, they did not sit opposite one another as rivals or equals did, but as a Mother and daughter. Catherine sat prettily at the edge of Eleanor's ebony silk skirts, her head cradled against her knee just as it had been at Alnwick in an evening. Oh, how long ago that safe haven was.

She wore her hair loose now, allowing her Mother to brush her elegant fingers through it, gently coiling the golden curls, so like her own, around them. Catherine smiled at the sensation, a feeling of comfort settling in her heart while she traced patterns over the hem of her Mother's gown.

"You wear black" She observed "Is it for Father?"

Eleanor sighed her pleasant sigh, one of wistful longing that made the hand in her daughter's hair pause it's gentle caresses.
"Yes" She murmured, taking a small sip of sweet wine from her goblet "For your Father, for the life I have lived and lost in his death. Your brother's position"

"How fares my brother?" Catherine asked, her heart jumping eagerly at the thought of her beloved Hal. Again, her Mother sighed but this time, a smile appeared on her lips, a smile of pride.
"He is strong, Cate! And eighteen too! A true man!"
"Is he happy? At Berkeley?"

Eleanor glanced down, gently tilting up her chin with two fingers.
"Oh, my sweet one" She breathed "the kindness you did us in raising us from the ashes will never be repaid and I adore you all the more for it....I thought perhaps you had forgotten me!"
"Never!" Catherine explained and her Mother nodded.

"I know that now, you would never neglect your kin. You are a Percy just as your brother is only" A third sigh passed her lips and she sank back slightly into her chair in thought "there is so much rage inside him, Cate. So much anger. It's been there since your father died and will live on in him until he is dead or" Blue eyes glanced around wearily, almost as if the Duke of Gloucester's guards were listening to her very words. Of course, she was used to that by now "or he sees the Yorks dead"

"Because of Father?"
"Oh, my darling, you do not know what happened to him, do you?"

Catherine felt her heart fill with alarm, her eyes widening as she took her Mother's hand, almost in desperation. What had happened to her brother? Her dearest older brother? Surely he could not have suffered more than having his title taken from him? Surely.....

Her Mother's expression told her otherwise as did the small sob she stifled on her lips, the pain of memories long suppressed.

"When your Father died...." She began, only for her words to fail her for a moment before she regained her strength "When your Father died your brother was taken from me, almost as you were. The Yorkists stormed Alnwick and took him from my arms"

Her eyes fluttered shut, barring the tears that gathered in them from gliding down her cheeks. She had already shed enough tears that day "He was only twelve but that seemed not to matter to them. They took him to London and he was put in Fleet prison with the other Lancastrian heirs....." Catherine's gentle gasp halted her words again and she placed one warm arm around her slender shoulders.

"Hal? In prison?"
"Yes, my darling" She answered "And it broke my heart. I did not see him for three years. Three years, Cate! That's how long they kept my boy..." Catherine shook her head in disbelief.
"How did I not know?" She exclaimed for surely she had heard some whisper, some tale of her brother's imprisonment....surely.

"Who would have told you, sweet one?" Eleanor replied steadily "Besides, he was released just before you reached London to be married, I assume to hide the York King's actions from you and sent to me at Tattershall Castle. Henry says it was not so bad. He had friends and their imprisonment was not so strict, it seems to have been more to keep an eye on them more than for any wrongdoing. He was fed well and was as comfortable as he could be...."

"Oh Mother" Catherine whispered as a small sob left the other woman's lips, one she tried to smother with her hand and failed miserably.

"Both of my children have been taken from me!" She cried, her heart railing against the injustices she and her kin had suffered "and now my sweet Catherine, I have you again! I have you and your brother and I am healed! Henry is not" She took a shaking breath, thinking of the boy, her boy, her son.

His childish golden curls had darkened to almost black and his eyes were no longer soft, his lips no longer harboured tender words. There was only anger, anger and hatred and an undying will to protect those he loved "He will fight to the death, just as his Father did. If Lancaster is not restored then perhaps he will be good on account of your marriage for he would never harm you, Cate but.....that does not mean he would not harm your husband"

Her daughter nodded, casting her eyes to the ground.
"I understand, Mother"

Eleanor nodded, glancing into the flames with a question lingering on her tongue. She had seen how her daughter had appeared with her husband, how they had glided down the stairs hand in hand, gazing at one another. It would take no more than a glance than any to realise that Catherine and Richard were more than a dynastic alliance, though that was how their match had been proposed, but Eleanor wanted to know needed to know.

She needed to know the truth of it. She had spent too many of the past years hidden in falsehoods.

"Do you love him? Your husband? This Richard of York?"

Her daughter almost jumped at that, gathering her skirts in an almost hurried manner and taking the seat opposite her. For the first time their eyes properly met, equal and unwavering, a sign of the woman she now was and not the girl she used to be.

"I do" She admitted softly "although....I think I did long before I truly knew" A smile flitted across her Mother's lips. That was how it had been with her own husband. Her Henry.

Her dear, dead Henry.

"Well, at least you have that, my darling" She said, taking another sip of wine "your happiness is my happiness but you know he was not the choice I would've made for you, nor your Father"
"I know, nor would I have"
Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
"And now?"

She saw Catherine blush, a gentle smile curving her lips that told her all she needed to know.
"Now there is not another man on earth I would choose to be my husband" Catherine whispered, making her Mother chuckle, despite the sad note in her voice.

"Not even Prince Edward?" She asked and her daughter's face fell, almost in shame.
"Not even Prince Edward, Mother"

Eleanor nodded to herself, supposing she had expected as much. No matter how much the Percys wished for their daughter to marry the Prince and Queen Marguerite to marry her son to Catherine, times did change. How could she have expected her fifteen year old daughter to long for the same boy she had when she was six? At least the man she longed for now was her husband.

"And what of our King and Queen? How does your loyalty to them?"

Catherine's head bolted up and her eyes widened with a small gasp, one hand reaching out to clasp her Mother's, intertwining their fingers.
"It is eternal!" She declared firmly "The York King and his Queen are kind to me, Elizabeth is my friend just as her family is! Yes, the King and Queen are kind to me but I cannot and will not forget the ones they replaced"

Her Mother smiled, patting her daughter's hand affectionately before she returned it to her goblet, drumming her fingers upon the silver.

"They can never replace them, sweet child" She sighed "only shadow them but one day....one day Edward of York will be pushed forth and King Henry will be free in the light once more" She spoke her last words with her smile growing, curving happily, dreamily at the corners. Her greatest hopes had left her lips.

"And what of Richard and I?" Catherine ventured for if there was a return of Lancaster then her husband's head would be set on a spike just as his Father's had been and that she truly couldn't bare. Eleanor's eyes flicked to hers, once more filled with question as they wandered up and down her daughter's body, the gentle curves of her hips and chest. How much she had missed!

"Has he.....has he taken your maidenhead, Cate?"

Catherine looked down at the sudden question, flushing a deep red at her Mother's words. Although, it was more for the answer she must give then for the question itself! If she said no, her Mother would surely ban her from consummating her marriage on the hopes of Lancastrian return, a better match for her, and, though it was a sin, Catherine was sure she could not deny the needs of her body.

But, if she said yes....it would be a lie, she would be lying to her own Mother for the benefit of her own pleasure. That was what made her blush but what else was to be done? She would never be parted from Richard in spirit and now she was determined to have him in body, have his child even, so they could not be separated even by God himself!

It was a far step away from her faith to Lancaster but it was what she wanted. And her youthful want was something so powerful she could not deny it, so, with a tentative breath, she allowed her lips to part.

"Yes" She lied and heard her Mother's sharp intake of breath, saw her small nod out of the corner of her eye.
"Well then" Eleanor murmured "If you become with child by him then you cannot be separated. Queen Marguerite would never separate a Mother from her child, she knows that pain all too well. If his brothers are dead he may retreat to Burgundy. You would be welcome at the English court but he would never be able to step foot on English soil again"

Catherine nodded, eager to appease with her lie still fresh on her tongue.
"Do you hate him?" She asked and her Mother's face softened again, one hand taking her own and drawing her back to the foot of her skirts.

"No, my darling one" She whispered, chuckling at the sight of her daughter's relived grin, the same one she had held when she toddled around the gardens of Alnwick in nothing but her shift, screeching with laughter until her Father caught her.

"He has shown great kindness and generosity towards you and I and if he has captured your heart well then, he cannot be all bad can he? After all, I would never doubt your judgement, you have inherited it from me and therefore I know it to be good....he is kind, gentle even. But he is a York and for his brother, the usurper so I cannot support him, even though I do not dislike him. We shall be friends, for your sake, my dear"

"Thank you!" Catherine cried, flinging herself into a warm embrace before she allowed her Mother to raised her to her feet, gently guiding her towards the large bed at the far end of the chamber. Freshly laid with silken sheets, Catherine smiled at the sight of it and relaxed into her Eleanor's capable hands as they gracefully untied her gown.

"Now, my heart!" Her Mother told her "You must rest. You have had a tiering day and a world of dreams waits!" Catherine nodded, obediently climbing beneath the covers like she did at Alnwick and finding a shy question summoning itself to her lips.

"Will.....will you sing to me? Like you used to?"

At that, Eleanor's breath once more hitched and tears pooled in her blue eyes. So long ago she had sung her nighttime lullabies to her babies, gentling them to sleep while they lay safe in their beds. Both her son and daughter had been taken from the cradle of childhood by cold York hands and no childhood songs had followed them, no gentle words, only the harsh cry of war.

Her girl was a babe no longer. She was a Lady, a great one, a Royal Duchess.

"Do you not think yourself too old or to high above such trifles, my sweet?"

Catherine shook her head, feeling her own tears slide down her cheeks and onto the pillow below.
"No" She whispered "for I have spent far too many years without them"