~Our York Boy~

October 1468, Fotheringhay's Nursery....

"He is so....perfect. I cannot quiet believe he is real"

"Ah but he is, my Love" Richard murmured, almost dreamily, as he and Catherine gazed at the baby sleeping sweetly in his cradle by the nursery window. Their son, Henry of Gloucester. A name Richard had initially balked at, unwilling to accept such Lancastrian roots until Catherine reminded him of the men named as such in his own family.

Eager to please and reward her for her efforts, he had agreed, albeit rather reluctantly, but that reluctance was short lived for it mattered not what their son was called, he would always adore him. But a name was not her only reward, oh no, and it seemed not a day went by when the Duchess was not presented with a gift by her adoring husband!

Two strong stallions now made their home in the stables and a new hawk often circled the skies above the bailey, watched by its young owner with a small smile. Jewels overflowed from the chests on her dressing table, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, all adorning necklaces, rings, bracelets, delicate earrings and broaches. Catherine's coffers were fit to burst, filled to the brim with new gowns of the latest fashions and finest materials.

Silks, satins, brocades of all colours sat against her skin, lined with ermine and cloth of silver that made her appear a Queen! Richard had spared no expense, that was for certain!

With the birth of their boy, all other life seemed to melt away, he was their sole purpose, and there was not one moment where they were parted from him.

Often they would place him on their bed, lying either side of while he rolled around on the soft covers, little limbs flailing and blue eyes staring around in curious wonder. He liked to reach for their hands, flexing his little fists while they tried to curl around his Mother or Father's fingers. It was a touch both Catherine and Richard treasured, so slight and yet somehow beautiful in it's soft affection.

He slept a lot, as babes do, and when he did, his young parents loved to gaze on him. They did not hunt, they did not dance, letting the normal entertainments of nobility melt away in favour of gazing lovingly at their boy. He looked beautiful when he slept, perfectly angelic in every way, like a little cherub on the ceiling of a chapel with his wispy golden curls.

Petal soft and sugar sweet, they loved him fiercely, easily more than their very lives. Lives they knew they would not hesitate to sacrifice for him if need be but both were determined to raise their boy together. Catherine and Richard knew well the pain of being parted from family, having both lost their Fathers, and were anxious that their precious son would never feel such agony.

Not for one moment.

The young Duchess had wept all morning on the second day of little Henry's life, clutching at her pillows while he was taken from her to be christened. She knew he was safe, how could he not be with Richard, Georgie and Cecily there to protect him, but still her heart near broke.

The feeble little sobs that echoed throughout the halls when his Father carried him away in his little christening gown of cloth of gold had torn her to pieces and when Richard returned him she'd never felt a greater relief. Clutching his warm body close to hers, she'd wept tears of joy onto his reddened face, kissing his button nose; his two plump cheeks.

When she finally emerged from her confinement, the servants were sure England had never seen a prouder pair as the Duke and Duchess were. With their son in their arms, they considered their life complete and found no greater joy than presenting him to each they saw. A special mass was held for him in the village church, with a choir singing to the heavens in thanks for the survival of both Mother and child.

Catherine stood proudly at the alter, dressed in shimmering cloth of silver while she cradled her boy; Richard looking on.

Little Henry was adored by his Grandmother and the great Duchess took every opportunity to be in his company. She could often be found in the nursery, sewing by the fire while her grandson slumbered in his cradle, although the silk in her hands was mostly stationary for nothing could take her attention from the sleeping babe.

"Well done, Dickon" She'd whispered at the christening and her youngest son had puffed out his chest; exuberant at the thought he had made his illustrious Mother proud. To hear such words from her lips was equal to the honour of being crowned in Westminster Abbey.

She'd visited the nursery that cold October morning and had in fact only swept away moments ago, leaving her son and daughter in law to gaze upon their boy.

Reaching down, Richard brushed his fingers against the little fist curled at his son's side, a soft smile adorning his lips. In truth, he could not quite believe the boy before him was real either, how the warm little body bundled beneath silk blankets was truly there. He seemed too perfect for the world and once again felt love thrumming in his chest, a new love that had blossomed the first time he saw his son.

It was one of pure adoration and fierce protection, stronger than anything he had ever felt apart from the love for his wife.

The wife whom he now tenderly held, cradling her head against his shoulder. He was anxious that she should not be left alone for long amounts of time nor be allowed to stand upright without his support. The physicians had told him that her health would be delicate after the birth, especially due to her youth, and Richard saw that everything was just so for her.

He even took up some of Margery's duties in his determination to see all was right, plumping up the pillows in an evening and helping ready her for bed. They were duties he took great pride in, even though he knew Catherine found it simply hilarious to watch him perform them, listening keenly to each string of curses that erupted from his mouth when his fingers became entangled in the laces of her gown.

How many times she had heard him threaten Christ and all his saints for the creation of such fiddly garments, she would never know!

"He is small" She murmured, watching Henry's little mouth curve into a sleepy O as he yawned "But he will grow" Richard nodded his agreement.
"I am sure. He is our son, Cate, he can be naught but strong!"

The sound of distant trumpets made Catherine look up from the cradle, a small frown marking her face as she peered through the window in front.

"What is that?" She murmured, moving out of her husband's embrace at the the sight of blue and murrey banners fluttering in the wind.

Gazing out into the open fields, her frown depended at the sight of a large procession traipsing across the land, carriages and steeds draped in linen depicting the sigils of noble houses trotting alongside. The royal arms of England were displayed proudly for all to see, golden lions and lilies shining regally, a silent announcement of the arrival of their regal bearer.

A large, armoured destrier led the line, carrying a young man with golden hair, garbed in purple robes with the crown of England sitting comfortably on his brow. One hand clasped around his leather reins, he raised the other, glistening with precious jewels, to wave, a merry grin on his lips. Again, the trumpets called and Catherine's eyes widened at the sound of the villagers cheering.

The King and his court had come to Fotheringhay.

"Edward!" She exclaimed, spinning on her heels only to see her husband was flushed a deep red behind her and carding a hand through his hair. A tell-tale sign of nerves "You knew!" She cried before hushing herself when Henry gave a disgruntled mewl from his cot "You knew we were to receive a visit from the King! And you did not tell me!"

"Well I'm glad you recognise him as King, ma belle!" Richard replied with a wry smile, reaching into the crib and lifting his son skilfully into his arms. Little Henry's eyes opened wide at the sudden shift from warm blankets to soft velvet against his skin and he peered up at his Father, sleepily curious "Our son is the first true York Prince of England, did you truly think that he would rest until he'd laid eyes upon his nephew? Besides it is not the whole court, only the most important nobles!"

Catherine folded her arms, turning away and muttering to herself while Richard cooed at their son, kissing the little hand that had begun to pummel the front of his doublet.

Christ, he was right! She, a girl of the House of Lancaster had provided England with its first York Prince! This boy marked another layer of security for the noble house, a layer she herself had laid, further baring Lancaster from the throne!

She shook her head, watching the nearing procession with narrowed eyes and a beating heart. By God there was so much to be done! The King and his court were a handful at the best of times, that much she knew but Fotheringhay was unprepared!

Food had to be ordered, chambers arranged, the latest entertainment brought to satisfy the King's merry nature! 'Damn you, Dickon!' She thought ruefully, turning once more to her husband who appeared to not have a care in the world while he gazed at his son. Again, she shook her head, making to move past him when he caught her wrist.

"What are you doing, my love?"
At that, she scoffed, pulling her hand from his grasp and pressing a quick kiss to her son's forehead.
"I am going to see what the kitchens can conjure for the King of England, his family and his court!"

Sweeping past him, she frowned at the sound of his amused laugh when she reached the door, resting one irritated hand on the handle "And what is so funny?" She demanded, raising her eyebrows at his relaxed expression.

"All is prepared!" He declared, lifting Henry into the air and watching his pink mouth curve into a grin "I knew Ned would turn up one day or another so I had everything arranged!" Throwing her a satisfied look, he jerked his head towards the nursery fire, motioning for her to sit down "The great hall is being adorned as we speak, mummers and musicians arrived last night and" He added when she opened her mouth to speak "I have a feast worthy of Christ and his saints being prepared!"

Catherine raised an eyebrow, slowly sidling to the fire while Richard placed Henry back into his crib, smoothing the soft blankets over him "Do not tell me you did not notice the preparations, my love?" He chuckled, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead "They have been happening for weeks now!"

Again, she frowned, opening her mouth to snap a sharp-tongued retort when she realised....she had not noticed! In fact, ever since the birth of her precious boy, the rest of the world had faded so that she no more noticed preparations for a royal visit than she would have a lone blade of grass snapping in the wind.

All of her attention was given to Henry.

Richard knelt at her silken skirts, taking her hands in his and pressing gentle kisses to them before leaning upwards to brush a reassuring kiss to her lips.

"Do not worry. All is seen to and all is well" Placing a hand to her cheek, he gently caressed the soft skin beneath his fingers "I do not wish to see you tired, my love. All you need do is enjoy the royal visit and parade our son around as if he were a little King! Can you do that?"

An affectionate smile flitted across her lips and she nodded, pressing her own kisses to his roughened hands. How she loved him, she thought as she gazed into his eyes and saw the tenderness that filled them. To do as he asked of her would be a simple task and this time her smile widened when the royal trumpets blared the King's arrival.

A small whimper came from the crib and Catherine's heart ached, forcing her to rise from her seat and go to her son, lifting his small body into her arms.
"He is our little King" She murmured as Richard joined her, sliding his arms tenderly around her slimming waist "Our Prince. Our Henry"

"Our son" He whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to her neck that she melted into. She had not yet returned to his bed, though they slept side by side, her body had not been strong enough. The physician had told it it would be foolish to try for another babe soon but with each day that passed she could feel her wanting for her husband grow "My sweet Cate" Richard murmured in her ear and she sighed her contentment.

"My darling Dickon"
The babe in her arms squirmed, seemingly pouting his discontentment at being left out of the tender endearments and Richard grinned, reaching around to help cradle his head.
"And our darling boy"

꧁꧂

"Ah it is good to see you, my friend!" Elizabeth sighed happily as she and Catherine walked arm in arm through Fotheringhay's blissful orchard, orange leaves crunching beneath their feet. The Queen wore her hair unusually loose with no crown adorning the golden tresses that flowed to her waist, swaying in the breeze while she watched her daughters play ahead.

Two year old Princess Elizabeth had blossomed into a petty child, one who's light laughter never seemed to stop bubbling from her slender throat. Auburn ringlets curled about her face and she smiled, picking up a stray feather to present to little Princess Mary who (at only one) stood rather unsteadily beside her.

"They are beautiful, truly" Catherine murmured, giving her friend's hand a gentle squeeze and looking down to the gentle swell of her belly beneath the dove grey gown she donned.

She remembered clearly the look in Elizabeth's eyes when she'd first gazed upon little Henry the previous night. After a grand feast, the Duke and Duchess had escorted the royal couple to the nursery and Edward had cried out in delight, holding the little boy proudly aloft his head with a grin.

'Our first York boy!' He'd declared proudly and Catherine had smiled, until she saw the lingering look in the Queen's blue eyes. It was not one of jealously or resentment, she was kind to her little nephew, taking him willingly into her arms and kissing his little face with affection.

No, the emotion that swam in the depths of her eyes was not jealousy nor anything of the kind, it was sadness. Plain and simple sadness mingling with the disappointment of failure. For all of her pregnancies, which now numbered five (with the two boys from her first marriage) she was yet to give England an heir, a true York Prince and Catherine was well aware of how that burden would weigh heavy upon her shoulders.

"I am sure this child shall be a boy"

Elizabeth gave a wry smile, slowing her gentle walk until the two friends stood stationary upon the stone path. She watched the two Princesses playing ahead, love swimming in her eyes for her beloved daughters.

"I hope" She replied quietly, taking comfort in the thought of the daily prayers she submitted to God in chapel each morning. A Prince was what England needed, a boy to secure Edward upon the throne and the rest of the York line "I fear for my family if I do not fulfil such a task!" She pursed her pretty lips, linking she and Catherine's arms once more before they continued to wander, the winter breeze dancing over their skin.

"You shall do it" The young Duchess affirmed "You have two strong sons already and more shall follow, have no fear! Besides, there are none strong enough to challenge Edward's claim to the throne....not now"
"Warwick?" Elizabeth suggested and Catherine shook her head, almost laughing at the mention of the Neville Lord.

"He is out of favour and his power quickly slipping" She said rather smugly, smiling as Lizzie held up a stone she had found, calling for her Aunt's approval of it "It is very pretty, my dear!" She praised and the Princess beamed, showing her little sister her find while Catherine returned to the Queen "He will do everything he can to stay close to Edward. If anything I should think him more eager to please now than ever! You need not fear him!"

"Well I certainly do not trust him" Elizabeth murmured dully, thinking bitterly of the serpentine eyes that scorned her every move "He hates me! And my kin!"
"He hates everyone who does not bear the name of Neville!" Catherine laughed "Or who does not bend to his will like a pliant twig! Do not try to reconcile him to you when it shall never be!"

The Queen murmured her agreement and together they strolled from the orchard, wandering onto the banks of the river that flowed peacefully by the castle. Inhaling a deep breath of air, she looked down at the cool waters flowing just a few meters away, a longing to feel their icy touch against her fingers forcing her feet closer to the edge.

Catherine obediently followed, gathering the two little Princesses closely to her skirts while they wandered to their Mothet.

"Be careful, my darlings" She murmured as they sat themselves happily on the grass, holding Mary's tiny waist when the girl reached out to pluck a shining stone from the glistening shallows. When would Henry wish to do such things, she wondered with a secret smile, trying to imagine him toddling around on little legs, squealing his delight.

Her heart ached to be apart from her beloved boy but at least she knew he was safe, of course he was, for he was with his Father.

No doubt his royal uncle had taken the time to fawn over him some more and Catherine half expected to return and find her son had been made an Earl! Truly it would not surprise her! The love she had seen in the King's eyes when he looked upon her son had been almost as fierce as Richard's and that reassured her of his safety somewhat.

"Will you accompany me on progress next summer?" Elizabeth suddenly asked, dragging one delicate hand through the icy water beneath her fingertips. Catherine looked up, slightly surprised by the request yet finding herself nodding all the same.

"Of course, it would be an honour!" She replied, pulling little Mary onto her lap so the girl could play "But may I ask why, your grace?"

A small smile twitched at the Queen's lips and she nodded, wiping her hand on the skirt of her gown.
"It is hard to find friends to trust" She murmured "But I think I can trust you, Cat"

꧁꧂

At the other side of the castle, upon the sloping frosted grass behind the fetterlock bailey, two brothers sat looking over the castle walls.

Most of the King's companions had complained it was too cold, retreating indoors to the great hall where spiced wine awaited but, beneath the tent of silk, safe from the breeze the King and his brother found the climate proved rather temperate. Besides, they preferred to talk without other ears there to listen.

Richard held his son proudly in his arms, gently rocking the sleeping boy back and forth just like his Mother had shown him.

Roland lay happily stretched out beside him, dozing while one dark eye opened every so often, making sure the baby was safe. The great wolfhound had become the little Prince's most steadfast protector, always trotting after whoever held him and refusing to sleep unless the boy was safely in the same room.

When Catherine fed Henry at night, Roland would clamber up onto the soft covers beside her, stretching himself over her lap so that she could rest the suckling babe upon his back. None would get near Henry whom Roland did not want near Henry and Richard was pleased his Father's final gift adored his son as he did.

It was almost as if the late Duke were watching over him.

"Well done Dickon!" Edward said from the side, clapping him fondly on the shoulder "You have a fine son and only days ago you turned sixteen too! You're more of a man than I gave you credit for, little brother" Richard grinned, his confidence enhanced both by his success and the alcohol he'd consumed, a little more than was sensible perhaps but that was how it always turned out with Ned!

"You told me that a woman must feel pleasure to conceive a son" He quipped, tearing his eyes away from the peaceful face in his arms in time to see his brother raise one quizzical eyebrow.
"Yes? And?"

Richard smirked to himself, slightly pushing back his shoulders with a smugness he'd only seen George possess. He had been waiting to say these words for what seemed like an eternity, knowing he was perhaps the only man in the world who could evade the Tower in speaking them! The advantages of being the brother of the King came with perfect opportunities for mischief and that was exactly what he chose to indulge in then.

"Well, if that's true, then it says a lot about your performance in bed wouldn't you think, brother?"

"You cheeky little shit!"

Richard laughed at Edward's wide eyed exclamation, not even having to look at him to know his brother's jaw had practically fallen to the ground! Even Roland's ears pricked up!

"Perhaps it should be you taking tips from me instead of the other way around!" He continued, his smirk widening before he made to duck as Edward raised his hand to smack him over the head "Ah ah!" He scolded, looking back to his son "You wouldn't want to harm your precious nephew would you, Ned?"

Edward grumbled something incoherent, blue eyes bright with disgruntled amusement as he refilled his goblet, waving the servants away.
"Just wait until you put that baby down, Dickon" He warned "You may be a man now but that doesn't mean I can't give your young arse a good hiding if I choose!"

Richard grinned, remembering a time when they were boys and Edward had threatened George with exactly the same only to then chase him around the castle with a stick while the younger boy screamed! Where was George he wondered with a disappointed frown, once more looking down at Henry. He'd thought his brother would attend the celebrations for his son but it seemed it was not to be.

George had never much been a creature of duty.

"Where is our cousin?" He asked, instead deciding to speak of the man who's absence meant more than his presence would've "I take it he refused to come?" Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair as he laid his crown to one side, settling the circlet of gold on the grass below them. He was now truly talking as a man to his brother, not a King to his subject.

"Cousin Richard is sulking at Warwick Castle" He murmured "He's angry with me....again"
"Again?" His little brother echoed and he nodded, well aware that Dickon would not know how deep Warwick's current resentment of the world ran. How could he, tucked away in the countryside with his little family?

It would not do, not when he could sense a storm upon the horizon. As King, he needed his most trusted men about him and Dickon was certainly one. It was time he began to attend court, take up the duties of a royal Duke and muster loyal men to his side. Besides, he now had a son he needed to defend.

"Angry about removing you from his side. Angry about the Woodvilles" Edward replied, sighing again "He wants me to replace them with my advisors of the old nobility. He says Lizzie's family are not loyal to me but I know they are"

"You are so sure?"

He threw his brother a sideways glance, eyeing him curiously.
"And you are not?"
Richard shrugged, reaching out to scratch behind Roland's ears, much to the delight of the large dog who grumbled contently.
"I think after our Father's death he raised us as no one else could. He made us warriors Ned and we owe him our gratitude but...."

"But?" Edward prompted, eager to hear the contents of his brooding brother's mysterious little mind. It was always a place he wished to explore. Richard glanced up at him, a form of guilt swimming in his dark blue eyes.

"But I don't love him as I used to" He admitted quietly, slowly shifting Henry in his arms to cradle him closer. "He is ruthless, Ned, more than I knew he could be....I didn't see it for many years but what....what he did to Cate" He held his boy a little tighter "It's made me resent him and realise I....I don't want him anywhere near her ever again, or my Henry"

As he spoke, his usually strong voice dropped to an almost childish whisper and Edward felt pity twinge at his heart. It was a sad thing to realise that those you loved most were not who you thought, a painful truth that the King wagered could wound more than a sharpened blade to the heart. The only thing to seal it shut was the icy brand of indifference but that was not in York nature and certainly wasn't in Dickon's.

Placing a hand on his little brother's shoulder, he squeezed gently, allowing the boy to lean against him.

"A storm is brewing Dickon" He murmured darkly "And I must ask you something, although I think I already have my answer" Richard looked up again, a youthful eagerness to please filling his gaze.
"Yes, Ned?"

"If the time comes when you must choose between us, our cousin and I....who would you stand by?"

Richard gave a small smile, slowly detaching the sleeping boy from his arms and passing him to his brother. Tucking the silken blankets around his son's small body, he stared up at Edward with an impenetrable loyalty that had not once been shaken. And never would be.

"You, Ned" He answered "Always you"