~The Land of Might Have Been~

19th of May The Tower of London, England....

"Do you know, Will?" James said, looking across at his cell mate from his straw bed "This place is really starting to smell"
"Well, that's what I get for living with a Frenchman for a month" Will quipped, grinning and James grinned back. Even in their darkest days the man was hardly ever void of a smile.

"I could say the same about living with an Englishman. Perhaps by the end I'll die of your foreign stench"
"You wouldn't dare!" Will laughed "You want to see your nephew on the throne, as do I"
"And I count the days till that dream comes to fruition for I know it will"
"As do I, my friend and regret that we lie here instead of aiding our King"

"He knows we are with him" James murmured "in spirit if not in body"
"I hope my Kate is safe...."
"She is with Connie. In sanctuary the Woodvilles cannot touch them"

"And how long do you think they will keep to that?" Will replied with a sudden grimness "They have already stolen the throne, crafted their own false parliament. They have broken the laws of the land, how long until they break the laws of God? At least you do not have children to worry about"

"That's true....."
"You know, James, you never told me why you came back to England two years ago. You seemed so happy across the sea in Florence"
James sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.
"Yes I did" He said "I missed my sister"
"And that is an excuse to return from paradise upon Earth, is it?" Will rolled onto his back, folding his hands behind his head "Did a woman jilt you? Your mistress perhaps? Remember I have been to brothels with you before so you can't say women hold no appeal for you at all!"

James chuckled, shaking his head.
"I have had mistresses, Will, most men have but not this time. It was...." He hesitated, biting his lip before he continued "a friend....a very good friend who died. That's why I came back but....I would like to return to pay my respects at his grave. At the time....I could not face it...."
"His?" Will echoed "and what was this friend's name, pray tell?"

James swallowed, hesitating again. He'd come this far, he thought, why stop when Will would only badger him until he was in possession of the whole truth. Besides, for some unknown reason, it seemed right.
"Giovanni" He answered "though I always called him Scimmia" Will barked out a laugh.
"Monkey!" He crowed with delight "Why?"
"Because he was as nimble as a monkey and twice as wayward! Or he was....until a fever swept him from me"

"Does Connie know of him?"
"No"
"Why?"
"God, you really are a nosy bastard aren't you!" James cried, making Will laugh again. He was no stranger to prying at the best of times but now he was bored and ten times worse! "If you must know I didn't want anyone to know of him! I wanted to keep him to myself and so I did!"

"Damn right you did! When did you meet him?"
"The summer of 1466 when I first arrived in Florence and attended a banquet held by the Medici's. He grinned at me as soon as I walked in and strode up as if we had known one another for years! Somehow, I felt we had and from then on, whenever I was in Florence, we were never far from one another. Giuliano de Medici began to call him my shadow! Affectionately of course. Giovanni was there when I arrived after Giuliano's death and he gave me the greatest comfort in the world. Then he died just two years later....so I suppose you could say I ran away"

"We would all run from grief if we could" Will sighed "and I am sorry, James, for your loss"
"He was unlike anyone I've ever met!" James suddenly blurted out, finding himself unable to stop now he'd truly begun "He was like the sun, Will! He lit up a room when he entered it, it grew dark when he left. It's been dark since he died and I want to feel the sun again....I want it so much" Tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back. Perhaps if he'd told Constance she could've aided him in his grief but Giovanni was a secret he kept locked away even from those who shared his blood. He always would be.

Will suddenly sat up and looked at his friend, his brow creasing with confusion at the painful strain in his voice and then, after a moment, understanding then sympathy.

"I can see....that he meant a great deal to you"
James averted his gaze to the window by his bed, forcing himself to lock away Giovanni once again.
"Yes. He did. I miss him every day"
"I'm sorry, Jamie"

The two men sat bolt upright as they heard the rattle of keys and their cell door unlocking; the creak of its hinges as it swung open to reveal Thomas Grey and four guards dressed in Woodville livery behind him. He entered, as did they, and Will and James glanced at one another.

"Donning purple again, Grey?" The former quipped "You do know that it is your half brother your Mother plans to make a false King, not you?"
Thomas merely rolled his eyes as if he were above such things and brought forth a scroll from the folds of his velvet cloak.

"God be good, not this again!" James groaned, leaning back against the wall "If I have to hear the name Arthur paired with the title of King one more time I think I will throw myself from a window!"

"Then you'd best open a window" Grey replied curtly "Because that is exactly what you are going to hear. King Arthur is prepared to offer once last chance to you, my Lords, a fine offer including a full pardon for your treason against him and high positions on the new royal council as he is aware of your fine work upon its predecessor"

"Work you are now doing all you can to undo" Will replied "I do not care what your false King has to offer. He could offer me a key to the gates of heaven and I would refuse for I made an oath to my King, my greatest friend and to God that I would see the rightful King on the throne and I shall not betray King Edward, Queen Constance, the House of York nor the Lord or my own conscience. You may offer the world, Grey, but I shall never bend the knee to your bastard"

"I second his words" James said "I will not betray my sister nor my nephew, the rightful King of England, ordained by his Father and by God to rule. Your boy could never be a true King in the eyes of the law nor in the eyes of our Heavenly Father above. There is not a single thing you could offer me to sway my allegiance, it is set in my veins, flows through my body for it is forged in my blood and shall never be broken"

Grey sighed, looking between the two men with no real emotion other than irritation.
"And this is your final answer?" They both nodded "Then by the laws of this land and the judgment of our one true King, you are hereby sentenced to die for your treason. As traitors you would be sentenced to be hung, drawn and quartered but his grace, King Arthur, in his bountiful mercy has commuted those sentences on account of your noble blood to a private beheading upon Tower Green as well as paying for your clean deaths"

"Private?" Will echoed, unfazed to the eye "Are you scared the people would rise up against you to see the dowager Queen's brother and late King's best fiend executed upon false charges carried out at the hands of the true criminals?"
"And when are these murderers to be carried out?" James asked. Grey did not even blink.
"Now"

James and Will looked at one another, the former swallowing, the latter giving a slight nod. Will stood and James followed, breathing deeply. He had not imagined death would be so close at hand but he'd always know die for Connie if need be and it appeared the moment to do just that had come.

"Well" He said gruffly, joining Will in the centre of the room "Best be on with it" Two of the guards moved toward them but he held up a hand and it seemed he still held a little power for they stopped "I am quite capable of conducting myself to the block, as is Lord Hastings" The guards gave a slight nod and stepped aside, allowing them to walk from the chamber where the other two waited. With two in front and two behind, Thomas Grey leading like a gaudy roll of velvet come to life, James and Will strode forth through the Tower, their heads held high and jaws locked so they had no room to tremble.

Heading down a spiral staircase James caught sight of the green through the passing windows.
"It seems they anticipated our answer" He murmured "The scaffold is ready"
Will only hummed, keeping his gaze set straight ahead and James soon found himself doing the same.

Though he would always choose to die for his sister than betray her, the looming event of death drawing closer with every step still set his heart pounding. His blood rushed through his veins, his throat became a little tighter.

Would it hurt, dying, he wondered?

Would he feel the axe bite through his flesh, his bone? Would it be over in less than a moment or would he be blinded by suffocating pain? Would he feel his own blood trickle down his skin, would God sweep his soul away before his body could feel? Giovanni had wept and wept in his final moments before the fever took him, had screamed in pain. Was having a blade sever your head the same?

Would his dear Scimmia be waiting for him with his golden curls and warm lips that curved into the most beautiful smile; his petal soft skin that smelt of lavender? Would he be awaiting him in heaven or would he find him in hell where Priests taught them in childhood they would go for the sins they committed?

Surely true love was no sin?

Broken prayers lost in the haze of fear began to force themselves through his mind, every step making the gathering nausea in his throat grow. He could hear Connie's laugh, feel the little hands of his nephews and nieces clinging to him, trying to pull him back but he could only go forward.

The cool arms of spring embraced he and Will when they emerged into the world, the bright rays of morning turning their skin and the ground beneath them gold. Looking up into the sky, his found his fear vanished and it appeared Will's did the same, for he began to laugh.

"So this is how it ends?"
"This is how it ends" James found himself grinning, looking at the scaffold which held the executioner atop it, axe in hand, and a priest, Bishop Morton, he realised, already reading aloud from the Bible.

"Of course he has deflected to the Woodvilles" Will muttered "Fucking traitorous snake....well" His voice lightened "I shall look forward to seeing you in heaven, my friend! We shall dance with the angels and see Edward, and all whom we've lost, again!"
"God willing!" James chuckled as they stepped onto the green, ascended the first of the scaffold steps, clenching his fists as his heart began to pick up pace again.

He had touched the ground for the final time.

Grey and his men stood by the bishop, the guards grim-faced, the bishop and Lord impassive.

They reached the top and saw the block and basket beneath it. Their heads would rest there soon. James suddenly fought the urge to tremble. The executioner, a large man in black leather, his face concealed by a hood, stepped forward and went down onto one knee before them just as he'd seen many a time before at executions. He'd never believed the same daunting figure of death would one day he knelt before him.

"My Lords" His voice was deep but not cold, it was regretful, sad even "I beseech you to forgive me for what I must do"
Will gave a short nod.
"There is nothing to forgive, my friend" He said and the executioner rose, motioning for James to move toward the block. As the highest ranking between the two, he would be the first to die.

Will would spend his final moments bathed in his friend's fresh blood.

James looked back to find Will staring at him and the older man suddenly reached out; pulled him into a fierce embrace, fingers curling into the back of his shirt, arms strong and firm.
"See you soon, Jamie"
James nodded into his shoulder, tightening his own grip.
"See you soon, Will"

They clung to one another for a moment longer before breaking apart, ending the last human touch they would ever feel. James exhaled and his breath shook slightly as he turned towards the block. In those moments, he lost count of the things he was doing for the last time, things so simple, so mechanical, he'd never thought about them before.

He flexed his fingers, looking down at the block before raising his head, staring directly into the blue eyes of Thomas Grey.

"Long Live King Edward the Fifth!" He yelled "And death to the traitors who stand against him!" He saw Grey flinch at his words and refused to break their gaze as he lowered himself to his knees. Inside his heart may be threatening to beat out of his chest, his tightening through threatening to shorten his final breaths, but he would not show that to the enemy. If he was to die he would die strong, he would die on his own terms.

Lowering his body, the tips of his shoulders came to rest on the cold, hard wood of the block and only then did he allow his gaze to fall to the basket beneath, the golden curls of his hair falling either side of his face. The world grew silent, ears filled with the rush of blood his heart was erratically pushing through his body. He swallowed, his vision blurring as he forced his arms out to the side; a sign he was ready.

He was not.

The cold edge of the axe touched the nape of his neck and then was gone, rising swiftly into the air.

"Breathe" he heard an angelic voice say; Giovanni's, each note as soft in death as it was in life. Whenever he spoke, a new song poured from his lips and James closed his eyes, letting himself succumb to this new melody "Breathe one last time and come to me"

"Strong in Duty, sweet sister" He whispered.

And the axe descended.

༻᯽༺

Westminster Abbey, Sanctuary....

Sitting before the fire once again, Constance stared at the crown cradled in her hands. The crown of the King's of England. Her husband's crown. Her son's rightful crown. The cold metal had grown warm beneath her fingers she'd held it for so long, eyes trailing along every detail etched in the gold, every glint of a jewel.

She did not need to close her eyes to see her beloved Ned wearing it, he appeared in her mind as easily as breathing, his hearty laugh echoing in her ears.

Oh how she missed that laugh, that dear, sweet laugh of his that was always accompanied by a warm smile and loving embrace. What she would give to see this crown once more upon her Edward's brow, to sit in the great hall of Westminster by his side and smile, assured of her position and their children's safety.

One day, she would see this crown placed upon her son's head, she was sure of it, she would do it herself if need be. He would reign over England with a strong council to protect him while he grew into a King as great as his Father, perhaps even greater.

"I remember the day that crown was first placed on dear Edward's head"
She looked up as Katherine called to her from the door to the courtyard steps, leaning against the stone frame, a soft smile on her lips. Somehow, perhaps shielded by the haze of happy memories, Constance found herself smiling too.

"And I was beside him....as always"
"You were so beautiful" Katherine murmured, slowly approaching, gaze never leaning the crown "I've never seen a more perfect Queen and I never shall"
"I was so nervous....there were so many people"
"Yet your fear didn't show" She replied, taking her usual seat opposite "You were an angel upon earth, Constance, sent to us to reign by Edward's side and you did so. You gave him sons and heirs and withstood every challenge God presented you with"

It was at that moment, Constance's gaze wavered from the crown and she lowered it onto her lap, the embers of happiness leaving her, fading into eternal darkness once more. Withstood every challenge God had presented her with? She knew it was a lie for she was failing in that very moment to face her current test. She spent her days wallowing in self pity, her nights often crying. She hardly moved from her chair by the hearth and only spoke when she was spoken too, drawing away into her own world.

She sighed.

"I certainly don't feel as great as you make me. I feel helpless....I am powerless"
Katherine sighed too.
"Perhaps" She conceded "But you shan't be for long, Connie, of that I am sure"
Their head darted up as a soft knock came at the sanctuary door, freezing in their seats. Constance's fingers tightened around the crown.
"See who wishes entry....I shall go and alert the children"

Both rose from their seats and Constance hurried over to her chamber, tucking the crown under the bed with hers and throwing a blanket over them as she heard the bolt of the small window in the door slide open. She headed to the courtyard door and Katherine's surprised gasp floated through the chamber as she opened it "Isabella? Bring your brothers and sisters inside, go to your chamber"

The girl gave a confused frown, looking up at her Mother from the ground before nodding, gathering Charlie, who was toddling about the grass, into her arms.

Constance turned away and her heart skipped a beat as she saw who had entered the sanctuary, lips parting and eyes blown wide.
"Margaret...."
Margaret gave a small smile as she rushed over, taking her gloved hands, shaking back the hood of her black cloak while Katherine locked the sanctuary again "My dear friend, what are you doing here? Mistress Shore said you were imprisoned?"

Margaret raised an eyebrow.
"I was" She admitted with a shrug "and poor Florence still is but I told my husband I wished to make a pilgrimage to London with him to pay my respects to our new King and he believed me, the fool. I slipped away this morning, he won't even notice I'm gone"

"Have you any news of my son?" Constance asked anxiously, all but dragging her over to the hearth and forcing her to sit "Any news at all?"
"I'm afraid not, your grace" Margaret replied with a shake of her head, the two other women sitting, her welcoming smile turning to a sad expression "but I am glad you are both seated for I do bring news....but it is of a distressing nature and I am sorry I am the one to convey it to you"

"Distressing?" Katherine repeated "We know Arthur is to be crowned soon"

"In three days time" Margaret confirmed "But it is not that" Her eyes cast themselves guiltily down in her lap and she took a breath, shaking her head again "Yesterday, at around nine o clock in the morning, two men were taken from their cell in the Tower and executed upon Tower Green...." She looked up, glancing sorrowfully between the two women "I am so very sorry to say those two men were William and James" 

Constance blinked, Katherine frowned.
"M-my William?"
"I'm so sorry, Kate"

No....no it couldn't be, not James, not her little brother Jamie....

"Tell me you're wrong, you have to be wrong!" Katherine's demanding cry echoed her thoughts and she shook her head, lips quivering as realisation dawned on her; an invisible spear thrusting itself into the shattered splinters of her heart, driving them ever deeper into her soul.

Not James. She needed him. He couldn't die, he just couldn't! He was to keep her boy safe, to hold her hand forever and ever just as they'd done as children. She could see him now, running around their room with one of their Father's books held above his head, laughing when she couldn't reach high enough to grab it back. She could see his face, his smile, hear the notes of his voice....

He couldn't be dead....
Not her Jamie....

"What about my children? What of my children?" Katherine was yelling and Constance found herself struggling to her feet, stumbling across the the chamber, eyes blurring with tears as her friend's cries echoed in her ears and memories of James flashed through her mind.

Blindly reaching out, her fingers curled around the courtyard door handle and yanked it open, a sob tearing itself from her throat as the breeze hit her face. Her shoulders began to shake, her brother's voice now calling to her, his laugh filling the air, his smile, her vision. She staggered down the narrow steps, not caring if she fell, not knowing where she was going nor what she wanted.

No. That was a lie. She wanted her brother. She wanted James.

James who was dead.

Reaching the grass, she cried out as she collapsed to the earth below, her fingers curling into the dirt as she threw back her head and a scream erupted from her throat, breath spouting from her lips like ribbons of fire into the uncommonly cold air. Hot tears streamed down her face as she screamed again, her ragged voice the wail of a broken banshee, her hands curling into fists, digging up the earth, snapping the delicate roots of the grass as James' death had possibly just snapped her last strings of sanity.

Over and over she screamed his name into the heavens, until her throat was scratched raw and the corners of eyes stung from the salt of her tears.

"Why?" She demanded "Why? Why? Why? Why would you rip him from me?" Her shoulders hunched, knelt body curling into itself as she heaved another sob "Why....why....why...."

After all she had lost, why did God have to take Jamie too?

"I will kill them!" She swore, bolts of anger striking her blood as her head reared up toward the sky "I will kill them all! They will find no mercy from God nor from me! Not one ounce! They have taken my heart so they shall have my fury"

༻᯽༺

23rd of May 1483....

She lay in her shift, facing the wall, eyes open but unseeing. Not even her children could coax her to eat now, no amount of pleading or begging or tears the younger ones had shed by her bed. Her skin was pale, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, purple crescents carved beneath them, streaks of dried blood on her palms from where her nails had cut into her skin.

Once her husband would've kissed bruises away before her skin could be cut but now there was none to stop her as her own ten blades drove deep into her flesh, coating them in crimson.

She didn't even look at her children, keeping her back turned, staring into the great abyss of grief from which she had been falling into for the past month. Now she was sinking, the pain consuming her body like thick, black tar, sticking to every inch of skin, every hair, every eyelash, dragging her deeper and deeper into eternal agony every minute, every second, suffocating her, pulling what was life was left from her veins.

Her soul had been destroyed the day Edward died. Now she felt her mind was too.
There was nothing left. Or if there was she didn't feel it, all she felt was pain, all she knew was pain and that James, her sweet, loyal brother James was dead.

Her very own flesh had been torn away and she was left bleeding and bleeding and bleeding.

Why had her blood not run out?
Why had the pain not stopped?

All she saw was him, in his youth and as a man, his smile and gleam of his blue eyes when something mischievous sprung to mind. All she heard was his laugh, each note a new torture, racking was was left of her tormented body, pulling her apart fibre by fibre, memory by memory.

The world was black and there was no hope of light. Her days were grey and she wished they would cease. Why wouldn't God let her die when she wanted instead of killing those who yearned to live?

Perhaps God did not even exist. Perhaps he was a mere fantasy mortals conjured to soothe themselves in times of need, to tell them they had a purpose.

Perhaps it was all a lie.
What other purpose had she now but to suffer?

In any case, she'd stopped praying.

The sudden chimes of the abbey bells made her flinch, hammering into her head like an iron nail. They were celebratory bells....the very same she'd heard twenty two years ago.

So the day had come.
A bastard was to be crowned and England cast into eternal damnation.

The knowledge they were close stoked her grievous rage.

Not only was she sad, oh no, she was angry, angrier than she'd ever thought herself capable of being. Edward had died in his bed of a fever, too soon but more or less peacefully all the same. There had been nothing that could save him....but James....his blood had been spilt by evil hands, his heat forced to halt its steady beat by the orders of traitors.

The culprit of his demise was not fate, not the will of a supposed God, not a badly timed chill, it was beings that walked the earth, that breathed as she should've done for many years after. There was someone to blame and blame them Constance did.

That bitch, that scheming whore, that evil witch Elizabeth. She was James' executioner, she may not have held the axe but she had murdered him all the same. His blood was on her hands, she had virtually torn the life from his body with one sinister whisper in her son's ear. He was to blame too, that useless Woodville bastard.

He shouldn't be alive, she seethed, nor should his brother, they should be the ones dead, they should be the ones with their heads hacked off alongside their witch of a Mother. They never should've breathed life in the first place.

She had to see their faces; Arthur's and Elizabeth's. She had to have them branded anew into her mind so she could plot every single torture, every single death she would force upon them, every way she could tear them apart.

Suddenly, her fragile body stirred, pure rage at the thought of her brother's murderers so close at hand forcing her limbs into movement. Eyes narrowed, expression grimmer than that of the Reaper, she forced her legs to move across her chamber, to push open the door and walk through the hall to where the entrance to the sanctuary lay. Perhaps the Woodvilles had placed guards outside for such an auspicious day, perhaps she would be captured as soon as the door was ajar, but she cared not, she would still soon see the faces of her enemies and then she would scheme.

Just as she reached for the heavy bolt across the ancient wood, a hand landed on her arm and, before she could think, she spun, the back of her hand slapping the hinderance clean across the face. It gave a cry, stumbling back.

It was Katherine.

Constance simply stared. She would not let her lady stop her, try to soothe her with her honeyed words, like she'd done those past days despite losing her husband, and draw her back into their chamber before trying to force food down her throat. No.

"Give me the keys" Her voice was cold and Katherine stared at her, an almost scared look in her reddened, tired eyes. Constance did not care.
"You cannot go out there. They will catch you"
"They murdered my brother. I will see them and I will see them now"

Katherine shook her head as she turned to the door again, sliding open the heavy bolt.
"Please, Constance! Do not do this! You are too weak, what if you fall?"
"Then I will drag myself through the abbey until I see those bastards"
"And if you die?"
"It would be a blessing"

Katherine's strong grasp curled around her wrists, hauling Constance to face her and, while she had managed a firm slap, she was too weak to escape the stronger woman's grasp.
"Don't you dare say that" She hissed "What of your children? What will they do?"
"What life do they have now?"

Constance's breath caught in her throat and tears suddenly stung her eyes, terror filling her chest as she felt her chance slipping away. She had to see them! She had to! She needed to!

"I have to see...." Her voice was broken, a scratching, unpleasant thing. Her hands shook, eyes darting between Katherine and the door, bare feet padding anxiously on the stone floor "I have to....or I will go mad...." She nodded her head, upper body beginning to rock itself back and forward while her breaths grew erratic "I have to...."

Katherine stared at her, gritting her teeth before she gave a disgruntled sigh and looked towards the door, clearly displeased, her cheek a stinging red.
"Fine" She bit out "But I am coming with you"

That was good enough for Constance, she didn't care if Katherine came or not, she only wanted to be through that damn door "Wait. Here." Constance frowned, arms wrapping around her torso as the woman released her, still rocking herself back and forth as she watched her dash to their chamber and emerge moments later with their cloaks, putting hers on "It is best if we stay hidden" She said, draping Constance's over her shoulders, fastening it at the font.

Fishing the sanctuary keys from her girdle, she hesitated, sighing again before unlocking the door; immediately taking Constance's hand again "Do not let go" She said firmly and while Constance wished to disobey, she knew she didn't have the strength to pull away.

There were no guards stationed at the door and none along the passageway from it, they made it up the stairs to the main Abbey without a sound and snuck into the main hall undetected. The bells still rung, louder than ever to Constance but she heard no cheers as she'd been able to on her coronation day.

There was not one peep from outside the walls nor inside. The abbey was not crowded as it had been for her and Edward but rather empty with only a maximum of three hundred or so in attendance - some whom she recognised and made a note to have executed at the earliest possible date, others she did not but still swore to kill.

'See, bastard' She thought, a malicious smile curving her lips as Katherine lead her along the back wall of the abbey, drawing her behind a pillar. She could hear the booming voice of the Archbishop, Thomas Bouchier and her fingers curled into fists, teeth gritting together.

"Traitor" She hissed, she'd slap him as hard as she could the next time he dared to appear, but Katherine shook her head.

"What choice does he have?"
"Every fucking choice" Glaring, Constance moved, slowly peeking around the pillar, staring down the length of the great hall and....

There he was, on her husband's throne, his golden curls shining, the ermine on his cloak pristine and the royal purple of his doublet embroidered with gold. He held the sceptre of the Kings of England in one hand, the golden sovereign orb in the other. Even from such a distance, she was sure she could see the way his fingers grasped them for dear life and glanced up to see the golden crown on his head. One she had never seen before.

This one was new, hastily made for the imposter as they clearly couldn't find the true one.

Of course they couldn't, she had it.

Another smirk drew the corners of her lips upwards at the thought but it vanished as quickly as it appeared when her gaze shifted to the woman beside the throne.

Elizabeth Woodville.
In royal purple like her son, watching on, and in the glint of the Abbey light, Constance could see the glimmer of one of the Queen's necklaces clasped around her throat. Her necklace.

No.

Her anger rose quicker than her grief and she began to surge forward, intent on wrapping her arms around that pale throat and throttling the life from the witch, watching as the life drained from her eyes, as her body jerked and twitched. Perhaps she'd even soften her grip a little once or twice, just enough for Elizabeth to draw in a sliver of air, grasp at the fading hood of life, so she could snatch it away again and draw her death out as long as she pleased!

"I'll kill her..."
"No!" Katherine pulled her back, pressing her back firm against the stone pillar, pinning her arms to her sides "Not now! You will have your chance"
"Oh yes I will" Constance seethed "I will see them beg for mercy and then dead at my feet, I will watch their heads rot on spikes and listen to the people mock their names and cheer for my son. For Edward, for James, for Will. I will not stop until I see it done!"

Katherine tilted her head, a look of triumph flooding her face as fresh tears streamed down her alabaster cheeks.

"You'll have to live then, won't you?"