~ Castles Made of Sand~

21st of June 1484, Westminster Palace, London....

"Arthur! Arthur!"

He woke with a start, shaken by his Mother who stood over him, golden hair loose, face contorted with anger. He glanced at the windows. There was not a trace of light to be seen through the shutters.

"What time is it?" He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes as he settled back into the pillows, heart hammering in his chest. He could hear it, he could feel it.

"Time for you to rise!" His Mother replied shortly, pulling his arm away "There is news from the North, urgent news and you must hear it now for there is no time!" Forcing his eyes to remain open, Arthur sighed, reluctantly sitting up a little for he knew his Mother would not let him rest until she'd said her piece. Urgent news, he thought, that could be anything in Elizabeth's mind.

"What is it then, Lady Mother? What is so urgent that you have awoken your King?" They had certainly not been on the best of terms since their fray the previous month and his tone was scathed with sarcasm. She sighed, irritated, eyes dark.
"Constance and Richard have taken Middleham"

His heart dropped like a stone in a well, sinking fast to the pit of his stomach, stealing his breath.

It was urgent.

"Taken it?" He exclaimed, sitting up more "What on earth do you mean?"
"I have just had it from a messenger and by morning the whole court shall know!"
"What happened? You said your son had all under control!"

"Four days ago, in the dead of night!" She hissed "The Scropes brought their men and the castle was taken! Constance and Richard now control it and there is rumour of rebellion spreading like wildfire across the North! It is said the people are rising for them, for her son!"

"Sweet Christ" He murmured, flinging back the bed covers and snatching his purple robe from the end, throwing it on before he began to pace, his Mother doing the same. He never strayed close enough for her to touch him.

"What of Grey? Is he alive?"
His heart was thumping even harder now, panic flooding his veins as his mind processed it, each second worst than the last as he awoke further and realised what such a thing entailed. It was happening. They were coming and he would have to fight. The sand in his hour glass of life had almost all trickled away....

"I do not know" Elizabeth replied, voice now quaking, arms crossed as she shook her head "My poor boy...." Ah, so now she cared about her children, he thought.

"And you are sure of what has happened?"
"Yes!" She cried "Not only have I heard it but I feel it! I know it in my heart, Arthur! We should've known! We should've kept them apart!"

"You were the one who said they should be kept together!" He snapped. He felt truly stupid for allowing that to happen. What a gift hindsight was! "You said it would keep them contained!"
"I was wrong!"
"As you are in so many things!"

Her gaze faltered, a twitch of hurt twisting then softening her features.
"Arthur...." She began, but his chamber doors banged open and his Uncle Anthony strode in, also dressed in his nightwear; cheeks red, chest heaving from running.

"I have heard!" He said, gasping between ragged breaths "They have taken Middleham but that is now not all that has happened"
"Is a rebellion in the North confirmed, Uncle?" Arthur asked, finally ceasing his pacing. Anthony shook his head.

"It is far graver than that, I am afraid"
Arthur's heart sunk even lower (if that were possible) and he grimaced with sudden, painful realisation. His Uncle did not need to tell him, it all made sense; the grim picture before him materialising.

Constance must've found a way to communicate with her son, with Burgundy, with Marie, he could see it all so clearly now!

"Constance's son has set sail hasn't he?" He whispered and Anthony nodded, prompting a strangled cry of despair and anger to spew from his Mother's pale throat "Fuck!" He yelled a lighting bolt of anger shooting though him as his fist collided with the nearest bedpost, something he instantly regretted as searing pain erupted into his knuckles.

It was all falling apart, just as he'd known it would, but that did not make the harrowing impact of the news any less excruciating. He shook his head, holding his injured hand with his other one, beads of panicked sweat breaking onto his brow as heat flooded his body.

He didn't need his uncle to tell him Edward would've been given a substantial army, his sister and Aunt would've seen to that (as would the infuriating Breton alliance) and he could guarantee more would join when he landed. He been a boy when he'd fled but returned a man, however young he was, a King with a powerful wife and an army at his back; the enduring love the people bore him and his kin - their Father.

"We must act fast" He murmured "There is no time to lose, the court shall soon hear of it and I'll wager more than half of them shall join Edward once he reaches land"

"No!" Elizabeth cried, approaching him "No, my love!" She reached for him but he jerked away as if her fingers were white hot irons about to melt his flesh.
"Do not lie!" He hissed "I am not as foolish as you think, you cannot placate me. Our allies are few and Edward is coming. He will land in the North and we must mobilise what forces we have and march to meet him!"

"You should stay here!" Elizabeth said, earning a scoff from her son "You hold the capital!"

"And wait like a rat in his den to be poisoned or crushed?" He spat, moving past her to his Uncle without a second glance "No!" No matter what was to come he would fight, he would not cower away as his Mother wished him to do. The throne was neither his by right or truly by conquest, it was claimed in cowardice and deceit, under the cover of darkness, in the shadows where serpents slithered.

He would fight Edward and strive to take the throne in broad daylight but not because he wanted it. How else would he protect Anthony, his dear little brother? Besides, if he waited in London, the people would drag the gates open themselves to let Edward and Constance in! Nay, if he were to have any chance to scotch their cause at all, he had to take to the field.

"Send out a call to arms!" He ordered, looking at his Uncle "We ride as soon as we are able"

༻᯽༺

25th of June, 1484, Morcambe Bay, the West Coast of England....

The sky was not clear as Edward looked across the bay to the distant shore, the brightening blue was stained with grey wisps of cloud, the line between the land and sea blurred by early morning mist. But the air was warm, would be warmer still as the day progressed, blooming into the English summer he'd missed so much.

The happy days spent at Ludlow and Middleham, shooting with his little cousin or hunting with his Uncle when the sun poured down upon them, a cool breeze stinging the air, were never far from his mind yet how far away from his life they seemed. He wished so much to reach out and gather them up, relive those precious moments, but he could not. Sometimes they seemed more dream than memory.

Five days they had been upon the sea, crossing the channel and travelling up the west coast of England, being careful to stay out of sight from the shore to avoid being seen. His was the ship that lead the fleet of one hundred, carrying four-thousand three-hundred men, their artillery and cavalry - his sister's sailed close by.

Her sails bore the arms of the Holy Roman Empire - his the ones of England and a little further away, the Bourbon ships could be seen, flying the flag of their house as could ones flying the flag of Burgundy.

They were all here for him, he thought, the approaching land was his by right, by the will of God and he would claim it. Once he had, never again would England be allowed to fall into such treacherous hands. His little brother was the one known for spewing vows of vengeance, declaring the traitors would be killed, but he had such thoughts too.

The dawn of his reign would be a bloody one and Edward's hand itched not only for the sword but the quill with which he would sign many a death warrant. After that, he swore to himself, after all evil had been scotched from his Kingdom, he would see peace from coast to coast. He would not rest until it was done.

He would make his Father proud and keep his family safe, make it so their house was so strong naught could tear it down.

"Not long now, lad" A voice said and his head whipped to the side, instantly alert until he saw it was only John Neville and let the grip on his sword relax somewhat; nodding in greeting. John smiled, bowing as he came to a halt at the boy's side "I mean, your grace" Edward huffed a small laugh.

"Do you think we shall land within the day?"
"By afternoon by my calculations. Once we land I shall ride north with a few men and muster more from my lands. They are loyal to me there, I know they will come at my call" John replied and Edward gave another nod, once more looking out to the shore.

How he longed to feel the English earth beneath his feet again but was unable to drift once more into his thoughts because of the man beside him.

John stood stiffly, playing with the hilt of his dagger, clearly holding words on his tongue that he was unsure weather to let loose or not. Edward arched an eyebrow. He'd much rather bear bad news then be left to languish in ignorance.
"John, if you have something to say I demand you say it"

John nodded.

"Your Father...." He looked down, sighing "Your Father would be very proud of you, Edward, I do hope you know that" Edward's breath hitched in his throat. He'd expected such words even less than good news and was unsure of how to respond apart from with the tears welling in his eyes.

His Father was often on his mind, there was no denying that. Whenever he made a decision, he thought on what his Father would do and wondered daily if he was looking down from heaven, proud Edward was his son and not another.

"I...." He grimaced, trying desperately to blink back his tears. How much he'd give for his Father to still be alive, to be able to show him in person that he would become a great King, live up to his legacy, prove a worthy successor "I wish I'd known him better" His whispered words came quieter than a soft breath of wind but John heard them all the same.

"You knew him well, lad"
Edward shook his head, a wayward tear dripping down his cheek; onto his breastplate. He trusted John and it was possible his own life would end in the coming weeks, what harm could there be in finally admitting the thoughts that had plagued him for over a year? Besides, with John's words out in the open, he could no longer keep them in.

"No I didn't" He replied with what was almost a wry laugh as a deep frown twisted with pain settling over his features: lips in a thin line, eyebrows drawn downward together. He'd known his Father well? Wasn't that just a lie every eye could see! Particularly him.

He refused to be lied to.

"I left the court when I was two and was taken back into my Father's care when Aunt Anne died but then he went to fight in France and when he returned, I went to Ludlow with Uncle Dickon" He shook his head, wiping his eyes as more tears threatened to spill from them, biting the inside of his cheek to momentarily distract from the pain in his young heart.

"I liked to think I knew him but I did not. I was lucky to see him once a year! My Mother I have always felt bonded to, she wrote to me constantly, but my Father...." Another shake of his head "I loved him greatly but every soul knew him better than I! Every noble! Every servant no matter how low! Each of my sisters and my younger brothers! I am the only one who was a stranger to him, the only...." His words died with a tremble as he struggled to swallow a sudden sob that had risen in his throat.

He would not weep like a woman before his men, before England, he told himself, forcing his head to rise again, his eyes to open; the painful words from his throat "I was the only one of my siblings not there at his side when he died apart from Marie and she was wed! If he had been given more time on Earth, had he lived to see me attend court....then I would've known him. But I never will....I can only know him from the lips of others"

John's firm hand came to rest on his shoulder, remaining only a moment before it retreated. It proved a comfort all the same and Edward sniffed, wiping at his face again "This is not how a King should act!"

"No" John conceded "But you must remember that while you are King you are also human and we are cursed to feel, particularly when we are young"
"I am not a child!" That was the last thing he wanted thought of him!

"No" Came John's reply again, quieter than before, a wistful tone to his voice "I don't believe you are anymore, even if you should be. Still" He patted Edward on the back, their armour rattling like the boy's fears did about his chest at night "be of good cheer, lad, your Father watches from heaven and while it is hard to only know your Father through the memories of others, the are ones you shall come to treasure. It is far from perfect as most things in this world are but take comfort that he knows you. He is smiling down from heaven, proud to have such a worthy successor"

Edward nodded and looked into the distance again, standing tall, hoping that the fresh tears leaking from the corners of his eyes could be taken for a mere consequence of the salty breeze. His grip tightened once more on the bejewelled hilt of his sword.

He would make his Father proud.
He would!

"We are with you, Edward" John said "Unto death"

༻᯽༺

At the head of the small boat taking him to land, Edward looked to the sandy beach ahead of him, Silverdale he'd been told. It would be a place he would treasure forevermore, he was sure of it, for it was where he would take the first step upon his homeland again - the first step toward his throne.

Glancing back to one of the many small boats that followed him, he found Marie's. His sister was stood at the front of hers as he was at his, a hand on the sword at her hip, donning the armour and gown Maximilian had given her; embroidered leather gloves. With her were three of her ladies whom she had chosen to accompany her, one of whom was Edward and Marie's own half sister, Grace.

All five had volunteered but she'd refused to allow them all into danger and so left the youngest two in Burgundy.

A smirk crossed Marie's lips when she caught his eye and nodded, a silent command for him to cast his gaze forward, not only to land but to the future.

Grinning to himself he did so. It had taken him only a moment to see what lay within his sister's gaze. Triumph was blooming in her heart, making it race like his. There was victory in landing, it put them far closer to the throne than they had been that past year but they would have to be careful not to let their spirits run too high, there was still much to be gained and much that could be lost.

He listened to the dip of the oars into the dark water, their rhythmic splash, the rush of the coastal breeze dancing about his ears. He smelt the salt on the air, savouring each breath, watching the land, his land, come closer and closer by the minute, the beach golden under the summer sun. The clouds had cleared.

England was welcoming its true King home!

It was time.

As he heard the scrape of sand and shells beneath the boat, signalling they were ashore, Edward jumped from the bow, the icy sea instantly seeping into his boots as he landed in the shallow water. He cared not for the discomfort it caused, he relished it.

Striding out of the water, his feet finally came upon his blessed land and he dropped onto one knee, all but tearing off his right glove and sinking his fingers into the damp sand below. He closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Lord" He whispered "I will rid this land of disease and restore it to my Father's glory" Curling his fingers, he lifted a fistful of sand the beach, bringing it to his lips, making the sign of the cross before he let the dark, damp grains fall from his hand "This is my land. And I will take it"

Standing, he looked towards the sea, determination swelling in his chest as he watched his men coming ashore, his banners fluttering in the wind.
"Well, brother" He looked to Marie who was being carried ashore upon the shoulders of two strong men - as were her ladies behind her - "We have not drowned!"

"God would not allow such a thing" He replied, taking her hand as she was lowered down, making sure she retained her balance. He did the same for her ladies "Nor would our Father"

"I am sure" She replied, brushing down her skirts and turning her face to the wind, savouring each breath. She'd never thought she would see her homeland again once she was wed and, while she would far prefer the reasons of her return did not exist, she was grateful to see it all the same.

"We should move back!" John called as he jumped from his boat with Francis Lovell, both clad in armour, the latter striding down the beach to aid with the landing "The men shall flood the beach and we do not wish to be trampled underfoot. We must have order"

"Agreed" Edward nodded "I shall head to the dunes with my sister. See my Bourbon Uncles ashore and Maximilian's generals then join us" Offering Marie his arm, she took it with a grin, sweeping the train of her gown aside to make toward the dunes when a call and the thunder of hooves emerged into the air.

"Riders!"

Galloping over the marrow-grass dusted dunes came two horses with armoured riders, making their way down onto the beach and toward the Edward and his men. Instinctively, he tried to push Marie behind him, drawing his sword as the others around him did but she only rolled her eyes, pushing herself forward.

"Oh please, brother" She drew her own blade, standing by him but he had no time to spout a retort as his eyes widened and disbelief crashed over his body as the riders came clearer into view. The first, he did not know, but the second....

"Rob?"

It became unmistakable with the grin that came across the man's mouth. It was indeed his Uncle Dickon's close friend, Robert Percy! One of the very two men who had helped rescue his Mother when he was a babe! The man who'd helped teach him all he knew at Ludlow and Middleham!

He motioned for his men and John to lower their blades and the horses came to a half a few meters before them, Rob and his companion immediately dismounting and lowering themselves onto one knee, heads bowed.

"My King" The unknown man said and raised his head. He was around the age his Father had been, Edward estimated, with shortly cropped mousey brown hair and a thick beard; a scar above his left eyebrow that trailed down in a jagged track to his ear "My name is Sir John Parr, sheriff of Westmorland, your grace. Sir Robert Percy and I have come hither this day to pledge my fealty to you in the coming fight and forevermore to secure your rightful throne"

He bowed his head again and Edward slowly slid his sword back into his scabbard, motioning for Sir John to rise.

"Your brother, Sir William, is the husband of my Mother's Lady, Elizabeth Parr, is he not?"
Sir John nodded, crossing himself.
"Was, your grace. He passed just this February. It is my only comfort that his widow was released from her captivity to be with him before he died"

"Soon all shall be free of captivity, Sir William" Edward asserted "And it it those who have betrayed us who shall face imprisonment. I thank you for your fealty" He turned his gaze to Rob who was still grinning somewhat and Edward found he couldn't stop his own grin as he approached the younger man, waving for him to rise too.

"My King!" Rob bowed low.
"Rob!" Edward replied with a hearty laugh, patting him on the arm when he rose as he'd seen his Uncle do "I am glad to have you at my side!"
"You honour me, your grace"

He wished Rob would speak as he'd always done - without ceremony and an abundance of humour, he'd always used his name when addressing him - but nothing would be the same as he'd left it in England, Edward knew that much. He shook his head.

"You did help raise me alongside my Uncle, you have my respect and my gratitude. And you're a bloody good swordsman!"
"My sword is at your command, your grace"

"Rob?" Edward turned to see Francis running up the beach toward them, letting out a laugh of pure disbelief when he reached them "The fuck are you doing here?" He demanded as the two friends embraced "I'd feared you were dead!"

"Dead?" Rob echoed, clearly amused at such a notion, and they parted "Me? You underestimate my determination to see our King on the throne, Francis" Another shocked laugh left Francis and he shook his head.

"By God it is good to see you"
"And you!"
"Where did you go? Did you escape capture?"

"I was never captured!" Rob replied "I did what Dickon would want me to do and lay low until our time came, sowing dissent against the Woodvilles, which in truth I only stoked since it was already firmly rooted, wherever I went. I stayed North where we have friends, I helped carry messages from Burgundy to Middleham"

"You aided my Lady Mother and my Aunt?" Marie asked and he nodded, bowing to her.
"I did, your grace. I only wish I could've been of more use to your cause"
"You are alive" Edward said "And you are here with Sir John, you have done our cause great service"

"If you please, your grace" Sir John said, bowing once more "We are not the only ones who are here"
"What do you mean?" John Neville asked, eyes narrowing, hand flying to the hilt of his sword but Edward held up a hand, staying him.
"Continue, Sir John"
The older man nodded.

"I thought news would've reached you, your grace, but if it has not then please allow me to be the first to inform you there is rebellion in England, an uprising against the usurper! It was begun by your Lord Uncle and the dowager Queen along with the Scropes when they took back Middleham Castle eight days ago! News has spread and so has rebellion, your grace! The North is well underway to being completely yours and the South shall soon follow, I am certain!"

"Rebellion...." Edward repeated "My Lady Mother, the dowager Queen and my Uncle of Gloucester, they are free?" Sir John nodded.
"They are free, as are your most noble sisters"

It was more than he'd ever hoped for! He knew his Mother and Uncle were strong but to know that they had freed themselves, that there was no longer the danger of them or his sisters being killed in recompense for his invasion, it was the most blessed feeling!

"Thank God" He breathed, crossing himself which prompted the others around him to do the same, including Marie who's relief was clear, lips bearing a bright smile.
"I knew they would do something!" She said "I knew it!"

"These others, you say are with you, Sir John" Edward continued, more eager than ever to progress "Where are they? I would like them brought to me"
A small smile crossed the man's lips and he chuckled, nodding.

"I would obey in an instant, your grace" He replied "But with how many are about to flood this beach, I am afraid it is you who must go to them lest we wish for half of us to end up in the sea"
"The King will not be parted from his men" Was John Neville's curt answer "Particularly when they are still departing the ships"

"All is well, cousin" Edward said, raising his hand again. He was young but capable of making his own judgements and decisions and it was crucial he did so in front of his men to earn their respect - however well meaning John's interjection had been "I know Sir Robert well, he would not lead me into danger and if he trusts Sir John then I have no fear in going with them"

"But, your grace...."
John only wished to protect him, of that he was sure. He was with him, as he'd said upon the ship, as he'd been for his Father but that did not mean his cousin could rule him or rather (for John would never wish to overstep his place) overprotect him! He had to prove to the people, to the nobility that he was a man worth following, a strong man who would prove a strong King not only because of his blood.

"You shall accompany me, Northumberland" He continued, scotching his cousin's objections with decisive finality "As shall Lord Lovell. Fetch me my horse"

"At once, your grace" Francis replied, bowing.

The horses were hastily brought to shore after that and Edward expertly mounted his great, white steed, taking up the reins as John and Francis did the same.
"This way, your grace" Rob said and the group cantered off toward the dunes, the rattle of their armour reverberating through the air, cutting through the coastal wind like a falling axe.

It did not take them long and soon they were riding up the rocky dunes, the land ahead appearing but it was not empty and what Edward saw almost took his breath away. Sir John and Rob certainly hadn't arrived alone for waiting in the field below were hundreds men carrying pikes, axes, longbows, scythes, pitchforks, anything they had to hand to carry to battle with them.

They were not nobles or knights but they were eager, that much was plain from the looks on their faces - they wanted to be there.

"Six hundred men for your cause, your grace" Sir John announced and rode forward as the men began to look up, noticing the arrivals above them. They had come to fight for him, Edward thought, without words as he looked across the field "I present to you" He boomed "Your one, true King! True born son of our late, blessed monarch, King Edward the fourth! Here to free us from the usurper, our rightful King, Edward the fifth!"

Edward's breath trembled as roaring cheers erupted from the men, calling his name, crying out for him. They were calling him their King. Six hundred men. To seasoned warriors it may not seem many but to his eyes, it seemed as if the entire earth were cheering for him! Sir John waved a hand and almost instantaneously they went down onto one knee, before falling silent; bowing their heads.

"Speak to them, your grace" Rob encouraged with a nod "Let them know their King. They have been waiting for you"

Exhaling another shaking breath, adrenaline erupting in his veins, Edward agreed with a nod of his own, nudging his horse forward to where Sir John was. Instantly cheers sounded again and he was amazing when as soon as he raised his hand, silence fell, leaving only the breeze to fill his ears.

He commanded them, they believed in him.

'Speak to them' Rob had said and he would, just as his Father used to. He could feel the weight of the crown on his head - his Father's legacy. He would prove a worthy successor.

"Good men of England" He cried with all the power and volume he could muster "I am the rightful King and while I was forced from my land by cowardly traitors I am returned by mine own will and God's and I shall sit upon my rightful throne! A plague has swept this land, the usurper poisons it with his presence! He has infected this Kingdom, turned it to a den of treacherous snakes and turncoats, polluting it with deceit. My Father, your late King, brought England to peace after years of war! War that saw your own Father's killed, your brothers and sons and friends! He brought forth a peace that endured, that would've endured an age, until the usurper broke it, casting England into its former anarchy, burning what our most noble King he built! He burns it still, dragging your kin, your country, to ruinous death. No more!" He yelled and roaring cheers once more filled the air.

Edward allowed himself to bask in them for a moment before he once more signalled for silence and was obeyed "I will ride to battle with God smiling upon my crusaded and cut down this usurper and the treatcherous rats who call him King, who have cast England into such disgrace! With you, my loyal subjects and soldiers, under my banner, I shall restore order and peace to this land. I shall cast all evil out of England and dispatch those who have dared rise against me to the devil for in the true England, my England, there is no room for traitors and turncoats! This land shall be scotched of all poison, cured of the evil that infects it! The throne shall be cleansed of the infection which scourges it and those who keep faith shall bask in God's light under my rule. By my hand, England shall be united!"

Drawing his sword, he thrust it into air with his final words and the men rose to their feet, cheering and hollering themselves hoarse, waving their own weapons; a chant of 'God save King Edward! God save King Edward!'  quickly arising.

They were there for him.
They would fight for him.
They bowed and cheered for him.

Edward couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you, Sir John, Sir Robert" He said, having to yell to be heard above the men's loud cries "Your loyalty shall not be forgotten!"

'Nor shall my victory' He thought.