~The Storm~

Tracing patterns over Richard's smooth chest, Catherine listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. It soothed, her soul, her head, reminding her that though the world was dark, her Richard still lived and as long as he did there was always light to be found.

Though they had been abed many hours, she had not slept one wink, taking instead to staring at the canopy above or her sleeping husband. Her troubled mind would not allow rest but, for once, it claimed Richard soundly and she was glad of that.

He looked so peaceful when he slept, so serene and carefree, so unlike the brooding figure he presented in waking hours. How she loved him, her Dickon, her husband. The fear of another rebellion stirred hot in the pit of her stomach and Catherine could hardly bear the thought of seeing him away to war, against his own kin of all people! But with Isabel pregnant, she could see no alternative.

And neither could the Queen.

Elizabeth would have laid her magic by that time, she knew, would have visited the river and even then perhaps be carrying the long sought Prince within her belly.

But she could not help but wonder, would that Prince ever see the crown parliament deemed rightfully his on his Father's death? Warwick and George may have been playing upon the facade of returning prodigals, eager for their King's forgiveness (although he'd foolishly made it seem there was naught to forgive) but she knew their treasonous roots still lay beneath.

Soon to emerge, soon to twist and twine around each and every one of their enemies; crushing them in their grip.

She shivered involuntarily at the thought and her thoughts turned to her own Prince, her boy. An innocent to be crushed and she feared he would be, after all, he was fourth in line to the throne. A threat to any who wished to place their own blood beneath the crown of England, even his own kin.

Carefully pushing back the covers of the bed, Catherine drew her robe around her and slowly tiptoed to the small anti chamber where her son slept.

Decorated with curtains of blue and murrey, red and yellow and heavy tapestries adorning the walls, it was a pretty room and she knew Henry was safe within its confines. The fire, glowing bright in the hearth gave the room a warmth, an amber glow that made the carvings on the side of Henry's cradle dance. She hoped he dreamt sweet dreams, peaceful ones where he was a knight rescuing a fair damsel in distress.

She was unsure if his young mind was capable of conjuring such fanciful images yet but his face was peaceful as she peered over the side of his cradle; a soft smile on his pink lips. Oh so perfect.

A little angel such as he did not belong amongst the dangers of court, the plots and intrigues that could kill and corrupt in moments. Henry belonged amongst the dancing flowers and loving people of his home, of Fotheringhay, where he could grow in true peace. Where he could be safe.

Seven months the Gloucester household had been away from Fotheringhay and what good had come of straying from its warm halls? There had been rebellion, murder, acts of an unforgivable nature committed all within the sight of young Henry's eyes. He did not deserve to see the harsh reality of the world, not now, not yet. That was something Catherine was determined to provide for him, for all her children if God blessed her with more.

She had been torn from her childhood, they would not be, not for one moment. She would not entirely shield them from the evils of the world, that would only serve to make them vulnerable, but she would allow them the rose tinted world of youth she and Richard were never allowed to see.

The distant sound of wrenching startled her and Catherine's gazed darted to the second door of the nursery, opposite the one she had entered through and leading to Margery's chamber. Again, the sound came, more violent this time, followed by a cough that forced the Duchess to action.

Hurrying across the room as quietly as she could, she thrust open the door no sooner than her hand had curled around the handle. A quiet gasp was summoned to her lips at the sight she was met with, her oldest friend before the fire, vomiting into a bowl and looking paler than a ghost.

"Margery!" She cried, swiftly closing the door behind her before she ran to the hearth, being careful not to let her robe catch the embers as she knelt, gathering her friend's auburn hair to hold it back.

The eighteen year old was clearly rather startled by the arrival of her mistress but had not the will to protest so weak her sickness had made her. Again, she wretched into the bowl at the foot of her nightgown and Catherine rubbed her back, smoothing circles over the soft fabric until the other woman had ceased her sickness.

Reaching for a nearby cloth, she gently raised her chin, dabbing tenderly at the corners of her mouth while Margery tried to stop her mind from spinning. Little by little she began to regain a remanence of her usual self and shame seeped into her eyes, a shame Catherine quickly shook her head at.

"What is it, Margie?" She asked, placing a reassuring arm around her friend's shoulders "You know you can tell me! We tell each other all, do we not?" Margery bit her lip, one trembling hand snaking upwards to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear while she gazed into the flames, now refusing to meet her Lady's eyes.

"I'm with child, Cat"

Catherine's eyes widened before she sighed, Margery's uncharacteristic quietness, her tiredness suddenly all sliding into place; completing the long attempted puzzle. Her symptoms were not of melancholy sadness but of pregnancy! Why hadn't she seen?

"He will marry me!" Her friend suddenly continued quickly, her voice seized with desperation "Dickie says he will marry me....only I need your permission and we need witnesses and I already being with child I...."
"Dickie?"
Margery nodded, finally letting their eyes meet when she realised there was no anger in the Duchess' voice, not one drop.

"Richard Calle" She replied "My family's...."

"Your family's steward!" Catherine finished with a knowing nod, recalling the red-headed boy who had been with her Lady at Middleham and then joined Richard's household when they moved to Fotheringhay. He seemed a pleasant lad, though she knew with a certain guilt she'd never spoken one word to him and that guilt only deepened when she began to wonder why she had not noticed what was going on right beneath her nose!

"Why did you not tell me sooner?" She asked "You had no need to hide this from me, Margie!" Margery parted her lips to speak but Catherine shushed her, shaking her head "If you are going to speak of shame I will not listen! I have long since known you were not a maid and, while it is inconvenient....these things do happen and we must face them, together"

Giving a gentle squeeze to her friend's shoulder, she almost laughed at the relived expression that filled her features.
"I should've known you would be so kind" She breathed "You who have always been nothing but to me....always"
"You should've" Catherine admitted with a wry smile "But it is done now and we must make haste to action. Babes do not wait for the convenience of others so we must see you married! Tomorrow if possible! Is Dickie here?"

Encouraged by Margery's eager nod, the Duchess let her mind spin, weaving a plan she was sure would work as sure as the sun would rise and set each day "I shall have to tell Richard" She murmured "He shall be the second witness, I shall be the first" Drumming her fingers upon her knee, the tip of her tongue swiped her lower lip in thought "I will not have this babe born a bastard, Margie, that I can promise you! I shall pay a priest and by sunset tomorrow you shall be married, I swear...."

A surprised cry echoed from her lips as Margery's arms suddenly wound themselves about her neck, pulling her into a firm embrace that was as full of relief as it was affection.

"Thank you" She whispered hurriedly "Thank you so much, Cat!" Catherine could only smile, gently brushing a hand through her auburn hair before promising to stay by her side until dawn broke into a new day.

꧁꧂

April 1470, Baynards Castle, residence of Cecily Neville....

The wedding had been small, yet beautiful, with the bride dressed in blue satin and the groom grinning from ear to ear. It had not proven difficult for Catherine to conjure a priest, after all she could pay whatever amount needed, and so the intended couple gathered (overseen by the Duke and Duchess) as the bells of London struck noon.

Now Margery went about her duties with a new spring in her step, a new smile, and a golden wedding band glistening on her ring finger! Even the shining light of the sun seemed incomparable to the brightness her joy and Catherine could only smile as she watched her Lady all but dance around the halls of Westminster.  A summer babe she would have and neither friend could think of a better time to bring new life to the world!

As January snow melted to February frost and the Nevilles (along with George) returned to the North, the young Duke and Duchess decided they too would move.

The court festered like an infected wound with the plotting and politics of men and both agreed the time for their departure was long overdue. Duchess Cecily invited them to Baynards Castle, her favourite royal residence along the Thames river. It was a sturdy building, with tall towers that reminded Catherine a little of Alnwick, as did the lavish furnishings the Duchess surrounded herself with.

An expensive taste was something both the Percys and Nevilles shared!

Baynards was far enough away from court so that Henry might play freely and their troubled minds could relax a little, listening to the rush of river water by the picturesque gardens. But still, it was close enough to Westminster so they could be called upon if needed. A call the felt approaching each day like a looming death sentence; inescapable.

But still, the trouble of court and England was far from Catherine's lustful thoughts as Richard dragged her into their chamber, a youthful smile on his lips while he kicked the door closed with his foot.

He'd been watching her since breakfast, a deep wanting in his eyes that his wife could only smirk at. She'd toyed with him since then, letting their hands brush, leaving delicate kisses on his neck and jaw until his patience finally snapped and he hauled her to their rooms.

She didn't mind in the slightest, entangling her hands in his hair and grinning as he cupped one breast beneath her gown, feeling her nipple harden beneath the steady pressure of his thumb.
"Our son is with your Mother" She murmured, pulling him further into the room "Margery is with her husband...."

"And you are with me" He finished, fingers already snaking to the back of her dress and plucking at the laces there, much to her delight "Just as it should be" Crushing his lips to hers, she felt the familiar wanting ache gather between her thighs and reached upwards to throw her hennin from her head, letting the metal pins holding it clatter to the floor.

Though she had been in his bed for two years, she knew she would never grow tired of his touches and eagerly shrugged her gown from her shoulders. As material gathered at her feet, she reached for his doublet, almost tearing open the garment in her hurry.

"You think I am overdressed?" He asked, running a hand through her hair; groaning at the feel of the golden softness slipping between his fingertips.

"Most definitely" She replied, letting him push her against the bedpost as she discarded his doublet and tugged his shirt over his head "I want you naked"
"You first" He teased, lifting the thin shift from her body and tossing it atop their pile of clothes before he took her by the waist; pushing her back onto the edge of the bed.

Instead of joining her, he suddenly sank to his knees, looking at her with a glint in his eyes while he began to gently suckle her breasts. His tongue darted around her hardened nipples, a soft moan escaped her lips and Catherine fisted her hands in his hair, trying to keep him in place only to find him escape her grasp. Placing soft kisses to her belly, his lips descended to her thighs, causing an almost strangled groan to leave her.

"What are you doing?" She breathed curiously, feeling her back arch from the covers as Richard's hands moved to the inside of her legs, parting them swiftly. He simply grinned, letting his lips dance across her inner thighs before they moved upwards, landing at her centre. Catherine's eyes flew open as a new,
blinding pleasure burned through her veins, making white light flash before her eyes.

He'd never done this before, not once and as another kiss was placed to her centre, she moaned, shivering as his tongue circled her opening, hot, eager. Hands grasping onto her hips, he pinned them to the covers, wrapping his lips around her bundle of nerves and gentle tugging in a way that had her crying out. His name left her lips and she fisted her hands in the covers beneath her, spreading her legs wider as Richard kissed her closer to completion.

Her hips began to move of their own volition despite his firm grip, riding his tongue as it flicked back and forth across her centre, coaxing moan after moan from her. Pleasure filled her body, her mind and one hand slipped into her husband's hair, pressing him eagerly against her; crying out when he sank two fingers into her. She was so wet they entered her with no resistance and her hips immediately canted, trying to bring him deeper inside.

"Richard...." She moaned, eliciting a deep chuckle from him that made her cry out as the coil in her stomach tightened. She wanted him inside of her, needed him, but could hardly move and when his tongue flicked across her clit one last time, she cried out, feeling a hot rush between her thighs.

Her body fell back against the covers, encased in a  realm of pleasure that still left her wanting more, needing more. Grasping for her husband, she brought him eagerly upwards, tasting herself as their lips collided in a passion filled kiss "I want you" She murmured into his ear and he leant back on his heels, beginning to tug at the laces of his breeches.

He was clumsy, his usually skilled fingers trembling with desire and huffed in frustration when the offending garment refused to yield. Catherine grinned, batting his hands away and unlacing his breeches in two swift tugs; pushing them over his hips before gasping as he pushed her back.

Feeling him fit their hips together, she cried out with him when he entered her, filling her in one smooth thrust and clasping her hands in his while his eyes fluttered blissfully close.

Catherine had been made for both delicate and indelicate lovemaking, suiting the gentle touches, the soft kisses as well as the almost animalistic passion Richard set upon her then. Burying his head in her neck, he groaned, thrusting into her while he pinned her hands above her head. She wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deeper inside and eliciting a groan from his lips when she clenched around him.

He came quickly with a cry, all but collapsing on top of her while she wrapped her arms around his neck, following him into bliss for the second time. Cradling him between her thighs, she could feel the blood rushing through her veins, Richard's ragged breaths against her shoulder. A few moments later he rolled to the side of her, flopping onto the silk covers with a satisfied gasp that had her grinning.

She was the only one who had done this to him.
She was the only one who would ever do this to him.

"By God, Cate" He breathed, carding a hand through his hair "I swear you are the most beautiful woman in all Christendom!" Catherine smiled, wondering how he could tell anything but the truth after spending an indefinite amount of time between her thighs.

Cuddling close to him, she slid one hand across his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck to feel his racing pulse beneath her lips. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to stay there, in their own little world of pleasure where theirs were the only two souls that mattered. The only two souls that existed.

But dinner awaited and already she could smell the heavy scent of cooked meat wafting through the castle, soaked in the finest sauces.

"We should dress, my love" She whispered "Your Mother will be waiting" Richard groaned, pulling her closer and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
"Damn my dear Mother" He replied, making her giggle; return his kiss eagerly "I want to stay here, with you, in this bed. I command it as your Lord husband!"
"And what of our boy? Do you not wish to see him?"

Richard grinned, slowly tugging them further up the bed so he could place her on his lap just as he liked.
"Of course I do" He murmured, brushing their noses together while one hand drifted to the flat softness of her belly "Perhaps we have made another Prince or Princess for him to play with? I certainly would like that!"

"As would I" Catherine confessed, much to his delight. It was true, despite the pain, the weariness she remembered pregnancy brought upon her, she wished for her belly to be full again. She wished to create another life "Henry is to be two this year and I want to give you another child, Dickon. Truly I do! I am beginning to worry that my womb has not yet quickened again...."

Richard stopped her anxious revelations with a kiss, gently cradling her face with all the tender adoration he could muster. Weather she gave him one or ten children, he would never love her less, in fact, his love for her could only ever increase with each day he was allowed to gaze upon her beautiful face.

"Do not worry, ma belle" He whispered against her lips "We shall have a dozen babies! And if we do not I do not care! I have Henry, you and my own honour, that is all I will ever need!"
"But I want to give you more children!" Catherine protested, only to find herself quickly rolled beneath her husband, his body gently pressing down against her own.

"Well, sweetheart" He replied, planting another quick kiss to her mouth, harbouring a mischievous glint in his blue eyes "if you are so eager then why don't we double our chances? I think my Lady Mother can wait!"

꧁꧂

A grand dinner was no place for a child and yet Cecily Neville never once dreamt of having her beloved grandson absent from the table. For all of her prim and proper nature, she liked to watch him play in his seat, in his Mother's arms or sometimes even in hers!

His angelic laugh was the sweetest music to her ears, his little smile, so like his Father's, so like his Grandfather's, that her heart yearned to see it at every opportunity! And so, she did.

"Here, little one" She cooed, helping a slice of beef into Henry's mouth while the little boy licked his lips, beaming at the plates of hot food before him "There! You are turning into a fine gentleman already"

"Geetle!" Henry babbled, trying to expand his ever growing web of words and looking up at his grandmother with his Father's eyes. Had he not possessed Catherine's flaxen hair, Cecily could've almost believed she was holding her own boy again and smiled, pressing a kiss to his fluffy curls.

"Your Father would be proud of you, Dickon" She said, chuckling as Richard all but exploded with pride from across the table, puffing out his chest. Catherine smiled too, cooing at her son while she ladled soup onto her silver spoon. He truly was becoming a little gentleman, she thought happily, looking at his cheruby cheeks and small velvet doublet which so far had avoided a splash of food!

A little brother or sister would be good for him, she thought, and slipped one hand beneath the table to lie against the silk covering her belly. Truly, she hoped another child would blossom there and knew Richard did too. He adored their son and now wished for another babe to lavish his love upon! A dozen babies he'd said they would have, a jest in truth but now Catherine was determined to fulfil it, to fill their various castles with children's laughter!

It was a dream, a perfect dream.

"Your grace! Your grace!"

Those at the table looked up at the sound of Margery's alarmed voice, the sound of her shoes tapping quickly against the floor stirring a knot of worry in their stomach's. Curtsying quickly as she came to Richard's chair, she handed him a letter, freshly sealed yet soon to be torn open "It's from Westminster, your grace, from the King"

A clatter of metal sounded as everyone lay down their spoons, exchanging worried glances while Richard split Edward's royal seal in two. The rustle of paper was all that was to be heard and all eyes turned upon the Duke; steady breaths held while he read. Richard frowned, leaning one elbow against the table cloth as his face drained slightly of colour, prompting Catherine to lay her hand atop his.

"Is all well, my love?"

He shook his head, a heavy sigh passing his lips when he lay down the page in his hands. It was one of weariness, of a hope of peace crushed within one fleeting second. However much they all knew the tentative peace of England was on the block, it was still a heavy blow when the axe finally fell.

"There is a rebellion" He murmured, flinching at his Mother's sharp intake of breath "Against the King"

꧁꧂

The Tower of London, two weeks later....

"Those hateful demons!" Elizabeth seethed as she strode back and forth across her bedchamber, watched silently by her Mother and sister in law. A crumpled letter lay at her feet, one read moments ago and thrown down in fiery anger. Confirming their suspicions and their worst fears, the words scrawled across the page were all but a curse and Elizabeth despised the sight of it.

It had been thought at first that the rebellion was conjured by the remaining supporters of Lancaster, a last attempt to break the York line. Jasper Tudor had led the enemy forces, Henry Beaufort by his side but in the dead of night as the two armies lay across a stretch of field, ready to face one another on the morn, the latter had fled. Stumbling blind through the dark, he'd stumbled into the York camp only to reveal that Clarence and Warwick planned to turn upon the King in battle!

Enraged, King Edward had slain the Beaufort boy where he stood, the word 'traitor' on his lips as he pushed him away. Of course it was a relief to hear that their husbands had been spared a battle but now there were traitors once more loose about the land and that could prove infinitely more dangerous than the threat bloody battle brought.

Warwick and George had fled, taking the Neville women with them as they raced to the coast. Anthony Woodville had beaten them to it, riding like a madman and capturing the Warwick fleet which forced them to Dover where they now waited for a ship, storm clouds gathering in the sky.

Catherine thought it lunacy, especially with Isabel heavily pregnant. To force her to board a ship was all but wishing bad luck upon the young woman, although it was no true surprise. Warwick would go to any lengths to achieve his own, she knew, even if it meant he risked the life of his own grandchild.

"They will not get away" Elizabeth hissed, tearing open the nearest window and sucking in a sharp breath as a gust of wind blew golden hair behind slender shoulders "They will not escape unscathed, of that I can promise you...."

"What is on your mind, Elizabeth?" Jaquetta asked, watching with curiously wary eyes as her daughter turned to the table she and Catherine sat at, pulling a silver bowl towards her.

One hand grasped at the handle of the silver pitcher beside it, filling the bowl with icy water that splashed upon the table surface. Reaching up, she removed the locket from around her neck, a determined look in her eyes as she began to gentle swing the cursed pendant over the rippling surface "Elizabeth" Jaquetta repeated but the Queen did not reply, only pursed her lips as she began to gently blow, filling the air with a soft whistle.

Almost immediately, the wind outside began to blow, heavier stronger and the clouds blackened as if god had poured a pot of ink over England's sky. Only this was not the work of God, this was the work of witches and Catherine could only watch as Jaquetta began to blow too.

The distant rumble of thunder echoed in the sky and the clouds began to swirl, streaking the horizon with jagged lines of bright white as the first lightning struck. The Woodville women were conjuring a storm, Catherine realised, a curse of water and air soon to wreak havoc upon its victims. Would they ever see the safety of shore again? Not even God could tell, she was sure.

꧁꧂

"Elizabeth! This is too much!" Jaquetta cried as the Queen watched the river below all but burst its banks, angry waves soaking the nearby streets and Tower gardens. There was not a soul in sight for all cowered under any shelter they could find, filling inns to the rafters while London was plunged into darkness. Even the roads side fires were doused of their ever present flame.

Lightning flashed angrily in the sky and thunder cracked, a furious roar that matched the one of a lion, baring its teeth, ready to kill. Catherine was sure this storm could kill and clutched Henry close as he whimpered pitifully in her arms, hiding his face in her neck. Little Lizzie held her hand, shrinking behind her skirts as rain streamed through the open windows, splashing her young face with icy flecks of water.

If it appeared hell on the safety of land, how did those on the sea fare?

Elizabeth watched the scene with a grim face, staring with hatred out over the city. She ignored her Mother's words, Catherine's quiet pleas for her to cease the demon she'd conjured from the watery depths of her magic "Please, Elizabeth!" Jaquetta tried again "Once the magic is out there is no calling it back! This is too much!"

"I agree!" Catherine cried over another roar of thunder, feeling Lizzie clutch at the folds of her gown as Henry trembled, his little body shaking almost uncontrollably "We do not know for certain who is on that ship!" The Queen simply took a deep breath, taking one last moment to stare out into the bleak expanse of her creation before she turned away, sweeping from the room in a swirl of blue velvet.

"Mama....mama" Henry whimpered, rubbing at his tearful eyes while Catherine rubbed soothing circles over his back "Want Papa...."
"I know" She whispered, kissing his cheek "Papa will be home soon, I promise, my love"