~Holly and Thorns~

December 1469, Westminster Palace....

Walking along the corridors of Westminster Palace, skirts in hand, Catherine nodded gracefully to the bowing nobles that past her.

Though the air smelt sweetly of cinnamon, mingling with the pleasant smell the fresh greenery hanging in bows from the walls brought, she was in less than a jubilant mood. The court was cold, not simply because of the winter temperature but because of the layer of invisible ice that had settled over its inhabitants.

There was a sense of unease that ran through the halls, tentative yet tumultuous and stirring like a storm each time the two royal traitors were mentioned.

Edward's loyal faction was fractured, caught between those who wished for peace and those who wished to see Warwick's head displayed on a spike. Catherine, of course, supported the latter with the Queen and gritted her teeth in anger when she again remembered the King still insisted on letting the traitors go free!

God, it infuriated her! If only Elizabeth's curse would work it's dark magic.

Murmuring unhappily to herself, a small frown painted itself her lips when she saw the widowed Countess Rivers lingering by a window, her willowy figure all but a shadow against the bright colours of the court festivities. Swathed in lengths of black silk, her golden hair was bound beneath a netted coif covered by a sheer veil as she stared mournfully through the polished panes of glass, a heavy sigh leaving her chapped lips.

Catherine had grown to feel a tenderness towards the kind Jaquetta and her heart was swayed to pity at the lonely sight she presented. She could not imagine losing a husband and a son as she had done; was almost moved to tears at the thought of losing one of Henry or Richard, let alone the two together! There had been no chance to say goodbye either and that was a pain she well understood; knew like the back of her hand.

The world was indeed cruel when it came to farewells.

"What is it?" She asked softly, placing a hand on the older woman's arm and Jaquetta sighed again, her saddened gaze not breaking from the courtyard below.

"They're coming here for Christmas"

A rustling of cerulean satin skirts from behind alerted them to the presence of the Queen and Catherine quickly found Elizabeth peering over her shoulder; lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

"Damn them all" She hissed, watching the Neville carriage roll into the palace courtyard, led by Warwick and George, each of whom appeared completely at ease.

It looked as if they had simply been absent from court, not attempting to snatch the throne from their own blood! The insult of it, Catherine seethed, feeling the blood boil in her veins. The Woodvilles were not even close to emerging from mourning and yet their kinsman's murderers were being welcomed with open arms!

Lunacy was what she had called it the night Edward returned but heartless was what she viewed it as now.

'Fie upon them both' She thought bitterly, watching Warwick and George dismount, surveying the palace as if it were their very own. Of course, that was what they had hoped just three months prior, to see George crowned King and then indeed it would've been his court. Then they would surely all be dead.

The Queen's steely eyes followed the traitors with naught but hate in their blue depths, one pale hand coming up to clasp around the locket laying against her skin. It seemed almost bound to her now.

"Perhaps with them so close our curse can do it's work" She suggested quietly, well aware of the keen-eared passers by and Catherine nodded, her eyes then falling upon the Neville women.

Far less confidant than their male counterparts, they shuffled along the courtyard cobblestones in a huddle of cream and crimson velvet. Even the stoic Anne De Beauchamp looked wary, keeping her two trembling daughters close to her side as they joined the traitors. The youngest Neville girl peered at her surroundings with fear in those innocent blue eyes of hers, apparent fear shining in their depths.

Golden curls falling about her face, only covered by a loose veil, she looked younger than her thirteen years, and Catherine could not deny the twinge of pity in her heart. It was one that extended for Isabel too for, as much as she disliked the older girl, she knew the two were only pawns in their Father's dangerous game.

Elizabeth felt no such leniency and she tilted up her chin, observing the two Neville girls with obvious distaste. She thought them as nothing more than the spawn of their Father, a line she had sworn to put to an end come hell or high water.

"I will make them my ladies in waiting" She murmured to herself, clearly still feeling the harsh sting of the time when they had been refused to her. Now they had no choice "Command them and their Mother to an audience with me" Jaquetta glanced at her daughter but made no remark, keeping whatever thoughts she had to herself while Elizabeth schemed "We will show them what treason costs. Catherine, Mother? Come"

Gathering her skirts, she made to sweep away, only halted at the sound of Catherine's quiet yet determined voice.

"Not me, your grace" She murmured, eyes still lingering with heated hatred on the traitors now being approached by their King. To have them here was akin to a shepherd allowing wolves into the sheep pen and while Catherine did not consider herself a sheep, she knew Warwick would view her son as one "forgive me but I must fetch Henry. We may have to suffer the traitors here but they will not be allowed within ten feet of my son!"

A sharp breath was her answer and Elizabeth watched her for a moment before giving a short nod of approval; motioning for her Mother to follow.
"Very well" She said "I would do the same. I will call for you soon. Bring your boy if you wish" She added quickly, inclining her head once more before sweeping away in a swirl of silk and malice.

'Ever bold, ever free' Catherine thought as she walked in the opposite reaction, listening to the tap of her shoes against the marble floor below. That was her motto and she was determined to see her son shared in its truth.

꧁꧂

Upon entering the nursery she found that another had already taken the attention of her beloved son. A man she knew well, who's merry voice and dark curls that were easy to cling to, made the little boy squeal with delight.

His Godfather, Georgie.

Henry was now propped up happily on his lap, one hand stuffed messily into his little mouth while he gazed earnestly at his Mother across the hearth. Georgie gently bounced the little boy, watching Catherine with a tender concern as she huffed and sighed, clearly in her own world of resentment. He remembered that when she sulked at Haddon she did the same, and would huff and tut until the time suited her to be happy again.

"If that....man comes near my boy I will strangle him with my own two hands" She finally hissed, shaking her head with disgust at the thought of the demon she may have to face. He and George.

"I knew you'd worry" Georgie replied quietly, helping little Henry scramble down to the floor and holding his hands while he tried to take wobbly steps "That is why I came. I always will, petite sœur"

A soft smile flitted across Catherine's lips and she nodded her thanks, cooing affectionately when her boy attempted to toddle towards her. Little fingers gripping to Georgie's, he held a proud grin on his face, trying to place one unsteady foot in front of the other until he reached his Mother and was lifted from the floor.

"Soon he shall be walking by himself" She murmured, letting him settle contently in her lap while his little legs kicked eagerly "Richard shall be glad to see that day...." her voice faltered "if he sees it"
"He will" Georgie quickly assured her only to find her shaking her head and tears pricking her eyes.

"They are not done" She breathed, letting their gazes meet "I know Warwick, you know Warwick. He's ruthless....ruthless and bloodthirsty and he will not stop, not until he has the power he wants. Nor will George, the fool...." Her heart quickened in her chest, thrumming a warning that rushed in her ears, filling her mind with dread "The worst is far from over. I just know it"

Jumping at the sudden knock that came at the door, she clutched her son tighter to her, calling for entry. He peered around curiously, lips splitting into a grin when Margery stepped into the room and dipped into a curtsy.

"The Queen has called for you, your grace" She said, keeping her gaze demurely to the ground and Catherine slowly nodded, pressing a quick kiss to Henry's golden hair before she rose.
"I will take him with me"

Georgie nodded, sending an encouraging smile in her direction as she left the nursery, faithful Margery at her side. If anyone could protect her son, it was Catherine and he was sure not even Warwick could tear him from her arms, not even God.

The two women walked along the corridors in uncharacteristic silence, a silence the young Duchess had stretched out between them in the past weeks. He'd friend no longer seemed sunny, smiling and laughing from dawn till dusk, she was more reserved and even now hid her eyes from Catherine's gaze. As if she were hiding something and feared it's discovery.

Their bond of trust was close, it always had been she'd thought, and it hurt her heart to think Margery did not feel that she could speak her mind, for she'd always done before. She considered her a sister, as close as one at the very least, and their own secrets had always been shared between them. They were each other's trusted keepers so what now had changed? What had occurred?

"Margery?" The older girl's startled gaze struck upwards and Catherine frowned, unused to such wariness "Is everything alright? You've seemed" Her tongue swirled around her mouth, searching for the right word "....subdued lately. Is anything amiss?" She tilted her head, trying to reassure her friend of the deep affection she held in her heart for her but Margery only shook her head.

"I am simply tired!" She replied, forcing a smile onto her face that Catherine could tell was akin to fools gold, outwardly shining yet truly useless. It was not real "As I'm sure we all are!" The young Duchess sighed, bouncing her son to secure him a little tighter in her arms before she returned her gaze to her friend.

"Rest" She murmured gently "If you are tired, rest, I command it. I shall not need your services till this evening"

Margery opened her mouth to protest but, before she could, she grasped her silk skirts and sank into a deep crusty, lowering her eyes once more. Catherine frowned in confusion but it only took a moment for her to register the angry footsteps that echoed throughout the corridor as the Queen swept past, pale faced with rage. She didn't acknowledge her sister in law and it was less than a second before the Countess of Warwick and her daughters practically ran by.

Their fear fuelled steps seemed to have been conjured by the beautiful Queen and yet they were all but on her heels, trembling hands clasped as they sought the great hall for the safety of their kin. The Duchess could only imagine what had been said to them, for one glimpse of their alabaster faces could suggest they had all been presented with their own death warrants! Looking again at the enraged Queen and her clenched fists, it was a surprisingly easy scenario to believe.

"Elizabeth...." She began to call but the name died on her tongue at the sound of another pair of footsteps echoing throughout the hall. They were heavy, powerful. or made to appear so, by their owner who could be recognised immediately by his usual smug strut; the clink of gold that always adorned him like a second skin. A show of the majesty he wished to claim.

George.

Waving a dismissive hand, Catherine watched Margery hesitantly vanish around a nearby corner and took a steady breath, steeling herself for what was to come. At least it was not Warwick, she thought as she turned around. At least it was not him.

Henry tried to peer over his shoulder but she pressed him softly to her chest, not wanting him to even lay his innocent eyes on the traitor before him. True as her instincts told her, George Plantagenet stood but a few feet away, dressed in sumptuous robes of emerald green with a self satisfied smile on his face. It was one she knew well, only before she had not associated it with the malice she knew lay in his blackened soul.

"Ah dear Cat!" He exclaimed, voice as airy as a summer's breeze though it made her shiver "and my little nephew. I see the Countess and her daughters have taken rather a beating from your Queen?"

"She is your Queen too, George" She retorted sharply and he rolled his eyes "You would do well to remember that"

"I do. Unfortunately"

Cornflower blue iris's (the same as his Mother's) flicking to the little boy she held, he stepped forward and Catherine immediately stepped back, feeling her heart pulse alarmingly beneath the bodice of her gown. Henry seemed to feel it too and slipped his arms around her neck, clinging onto her with all his usual happiness vanished.

"Take one more step and I swear I shall strike you down where you stand" She hissed, glaring at George's look of genuine surprise. A fool he was and a fool he always had been.
"Why the cold words, sister?"

"You are no brother of mine" She returned sharply and ignored the pinprick of hurt that dared to show through his veil of arrogant self assurance. Whatever hurt she caused him now, he had caused to others tenfold, what right had he to be wounded by words?

"Come now" He murmured, taking another step forward as she took a second back, clutching Henry ever closer to her "We were friends once, were we not?"

Catherine scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief at his words. Was he truly so blind that he did not see what he had done he could never retract? He had played his hand and lost far more than a crown. He had lost whatever friendship may have grown between them as would any who dealt with Warwick; a rule to her heart that was as old as the memory of her kidnapping was.

It was not one that would be broken, forming an iron cage around her affections; impenetrable, unbreakable.

"You allied yourself with Warwick, George!" She almost spat, hating the traitor's name on her tongue "If there was one thing on earth you could do that I would deem as unforgivable it would be that! And you did!Whatever trust I had in you is gone and buried with the Woodvilles you had a hand in murdering! They shall not be rising from the dead and nor shall any fondness I felt for you be"

"Catherine...." He began, almost sadly, but she no longer wished to hear him speak; twist silver words around his York tongue in an effort to excuse his actions.

"When I first met you my heart told me not to trust you, that you would bring nothing but ill to me and while I wished to be wrong, I believed myself to be wrong after a time....I now see I could not have been more right" Taking a breath, this time she stepped forward, peering up into his piercing eyes with all the courage she could muster "Stay away from my son, George" She hissed quietly "Stay away from me"

And with that, she turned and left, not once looking back.

Not once.

꧁꧂

With her son still safely in her arms, Catherine stalked the passages of Westminster in search of the great hall. It's merry music floated through the air, the melody a veil to hide the true song of resentment and grief that was sung by the courtiers.

"Ma....mama"
"I know, darling" She whispered, smoothing a hand over Henry's flaxen hair while the music of the great hall beckoned them ever closer.

Warwick would be there, she was sure, but so would Richard be and Henry's other protectors too. That demon would not be able to lay one finger on her precious boy without facing the axe although after the events of the past few months, she had begun to think the axe feared Warwick instead of the reverse! Even the block would cower before his shadowy figure.

Keeping her head held high, she strode through the doors, almost blinded at the colourful sight that struck her eyes. Acrobats climbed atop one another's shoulders juggling oranges and sticks struck aflame, dressed in bright hues of yellow and green. Courtiers danced in perfect pairs, the jewels of their sumptuous garments glistening in the light of the countless candles lining the hall.

"Her grace, Princess Catherine, Duchess of Gloucester and the Lord Henry of Gloucester!"

Many turned, many bowed and curtsied but all went ignored by the young Duchess as she swept by in a swirl crimson skirts. She searched solely for her husband, for his mass of ebony curls or the sound of his merry laugh, the deep voice that could soothe her soul. Little Henry was by far the happier of the pair, beaming around in excitement, eyes wide with wonder as he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of every entertainment on show!

A flash of a shaggy grey coat was the first sign of sweet relief, accompanied by the tap of nails against the marble floor that had been an addition to her life for many a year. Roland. The great wolfhound wove his way through the entangled crowd of nobles, circling Catherine's legs when he saw her with a fond wag of his fluffed tail.

"Ah, my good boy" She murmured fondly, rubbing behind his ears while Henry tried to reach for him only to be tugged away when Roland trotted into the crowd once more.

Catherine quickly followed, feeling herself smile when the dog came to stay faithfully by his master who stood with his back to her, deep in conversation with the King and Queen. A freshly filled goblet of wine in one hand, he used the other to toy with the bejewelled dagger he kept hooked to his belt, nodding politely at something his brother or Elizabeth had said.

Edward eyed the shaggy dog beside him with a degree of amusement, clearly in a far more jubilant mood than his wife who appeared almost statuesque in her stiff stance; hands clasped.
"I swear that dog gets bigger every time I see it, Dickon!"

"Or you are simply getting smaller" Catherine answered, plastering a smile onto her face as she came to stand beside her husband, bobbing a small curtsy.

She had taken many measures since her return to court to avoid the King at seemingly every turn, unable to let her anger rest. To encounter him would only serve to make her speak words she may regret but she knew in her heart that with her son present, she would not dare risk such a thing.

Edward arched an eyebrow at her remark, well aware of the taught tension still held between them but in that moment he waved it away.

He considered the Christmas season to be one of reconciliation and merriment, he would not let one disagreement between them stand in the way of the fondness he held for her! After all, she was the Mother to a York Prince and the woman who made his little brother happy, a fact that was evident even then when Dickon brushed a gentle kiss of welcome to her cheek.

"Ma belle" He murmured, offering her a sip of wine and chuckling when Henry tried to swipe the goblet from his hands "Nay, lad, not for you yet!"

"Catherine, seasons greetings to you and of course my beloved nephew!" Edward greeted, reaching out to affectionately ruffle the young boy's hair.
"And to you, Edward" She returned, a little cooly but it would suffice all the same and he nodded, satisfied they had established a peace "You called for me, Elizabeth?" She continued, looking to the unusually quiet Queen.

Her eyes were dark, a carefully concealed anger flashing within them as she nodded, motioning with a flick of her hand for Catherine to follow her. Turning on her heels, she swept away from the men, leaving the young Duchess to trot at her heels until they reached a secluded part of the hall.

Hidden by a carved archway, dimly lit and largely unnoticed by the carousing crowds, Catherine found her friend looking at her son in earnest, an almost desperate appearance to her expression.

"Isabel Neville is pregnant" She whispered hurriedly, peering into the hall where she knew her greatest enemy lurked. Only minutes ago he had told her of his good fortune with a smirk sent by the devil adorning his lips. Menacing had been the only way to describe it, a silent threat to the Queen and her kin. A promise that he was not yet done and never would be.

"Pregnant?" Catherine breathed, hands automatically clasping her son tighter to her chest. Shaking her head, she stared at the Queen, wishing the words spoken moments ago had never been. With Isabel pregnant, Warwick once more had a reason to reach for the throne, George had a reason to reach for it. If she had a son.....

"By God" She whispered and Elizabeth nodded, clutching at the locket around her neck, looping one finger around the black cord. Catherine stared at the fine oval of silver, an object bound with magic....a magic the Queen still possessed "You...." She hesitated a moment, glancing around warily to ensure no keen ears could overhear "you conjured a curse to end life did you not? Surely you can conjure a blessing to create it?"

Before her, a pair of blue eyes lit with a shining pride and Catherine found her chin lifted by two ring-clad fingers, cool against her skin.

"Good" Elizabeth murmured "You are thinking like me.....you said you wished to be dangerous, Cat, and I have a feeling you will be" A secret smile lit her lips and she nodded to herself, letting Catherine's chin fall "I will call my Mother to the river tonight....she will know what to do. Magic is in our blood and, while it is not in yours, I still ask you to pray that it works"

The young Duchess could only nod, feeling Henry's sleepy head loll against her shoulder as his eyes fluttered shut in the darkness.
"Of course I will" She replied softly, rubbing the small velvet doublet beneath her palm.