~The Race toMarch North~

5th of September 1485, London....

There was barely a word spoken the next morning as the Queen was readied for war by Lizzie and Cat, only glances of worry and of determination; sounds of clanking metal filling the almost icy air.

Outside of the royal chamber was chaos as soldiers and Lords alike rallied their armour and their weapons to act upon the order their Queen had issued the previous night.

They were to march North.

Servants ran down corridors, jumping at the hasty orders that were barked in their direction and the whinny of horses filled the palace courtyard as destriers were saddled and armoured, each bearing the colourful crest of their noble rider.

London had been thrown into chaos over the course of the night as well when word of the march escaped the confines of the palace and flew through the city streets like wildfire!

Already, many citizens had rallied together to fight for their King and Queen; to oppose the Tudor with the one last chance they had but now they gathered at the palace gates, axes and daggers in hand. When she had seen the hundreds of people willing to lay down their lives for her and her son from her window, Eleanor had wept, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks and Cecily had wept with her.

Neither had expected so much from the capital, least of all the Queen who was counting on most of her support from the North, but that night the Londoners had proved they loved her just as much as their Northern counterparts.

However, their act did not simply serve the Queen's confidence in her people, it secured the remaining nobles faith in her and dashed any doubt that lingered in their minds on her plan.

It was just the show of of unity they needed, the one final push that would fan the hot embers of resistance into a storm of fire and crush any opposition underfoot.

Eleanor was statuesque as she was prepared for war by her kinswoman, each of them taking the upmost care to see that everything was perfect from the way her hair (left flowing loose) was placed to the way her crown was set on her head; jewels sparkling.

And her armour.
God it was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship, all had to admit when they saw it carried through the palace that morning. Black iron, polished until it shone and truly fit for a Queen; a full suit of impenetrable power made for destruction.

The plates fit together perfectly and fit Eleanor like a glove, sliding and locking into place while she stood there in silence with a stoic look on her face.

Every inch not a Queen.

But a King.

Picking up the sable leather belt that held her sword and her dagger, Cat secured it firmly around the Queen's waist, biting her lip slightly as she concentrated. As she stood back up straight she took a moment to overlook her sister's armour and, just as she had thought, it was perfect. She gave a satisfied nod.

Walking to the bed, Lizzie picked up the last item upon it, once piled with metal and blades now only a cloak was laid out. Crackling the heavy garment in her slender arms, she walked back to the Queen and together she and Cat placed the cloak of cloth of gold on her shoulders; strapping it into place.

They stepped back and sank down into reverent curtsies as Eleanor turned to observe herself in the full length mirror on her wall. She tilted her chin upwards, stubborn, determined, ready to fight and felt her hand curl around the hilt of her sword.

She puffed her chest out a little, knowing she looked magnificent, all powerful, a commander and a leader, a true ruler of England. Flaming red curls a stark contrast against the gold of her cloak and the black of her armour she seemed almost a Goddess of war, of flame.

Someone her people would follow.

"You are ready"

Cecily's clear voice cut through the air like a freshly sharpened blade and Eleanor turned around; hand still on the hilt of her sword.
"Am I?" She asked, succumbing to one last shred of doubt that plagued her mind "truly?"

Cecily smiled and walked forward, placing her hands on Eleanor's shoulders. Love flickered in her blue eyes, brightened further by tears that were conjured by the agonising fear of losing another child.

"If I had a sword I would follow you into battle myself" she said softly and Eleanor felt her face crumple "now now" her Mother comforted as she took the Queen into her arms and let her cry for a moment against her shoulder "you are England now, Leena. You are the only one who can win this war"

"But you won't be going without us" Marie said determinedly from the door and Eleanor looked up with a surprised sniff that turned into a gasp as she saw Marie, Anais and Jane all standing in the doorway to her chamber.

Their long hair was pulled back into tight braids, their long skirts and fine jewels gone; replaced with breeches, leather breastplates and sturdy boots. Each of them sported swords by their sides and together they strode into the room before they bowed to their Queen.

"What are you doing?" Eleanor exclaimed, wiping away her tears and staring at her Ladies in disbelief "I told you that you were all to stay here with Duchess Cecily" Jane shook her head, staring back determinedly.

"As if we would abandon you now, Leena" she declared and the other two nodded their agreement.
"Lizzie is staying vith Cat, Issy and her grace" Anais said firmly "but ve are coming vith you" Eleanor gaped at them, her heart warming with love for each of her friends but for each drop of love there was a sharp shard of fear that struck at her. The fact that they would lay their lives down for her made her adore them all the more and count herself lucky to have such loyal followers as they.

But at the same time it made her want to make them stay even more than before!

She couldn't lose more people she loved! She couldn't! She wouldn't allow it! Her heart could not take it, her mind could not take it. She was already teetering on the edge of oblivion and one more death would send her hurtling over into endless darkness. With a shake of her head, she turned away.

"Well I order you to stay" she said with as much authority as she could muster but a simple scoff from Jane answered her.

"Just you try and stop us"

꧁꧂

Eleanor could feel the stares that followed her as she walked through the corridors and entered the courtyard, striding confidently down the steps with Anais, Jane and Marie behind her. When the nobles saw her, their jaws practically dropped to the floor and their work halted for a moment, reins and swords laying limp in their hands.

Coming to the bottom of the steps, Eleanor stood firm and looked around at them, raising her eyebrows.
"Well, my Lords?" She asked, her voice echoing around the vast courtyard that had fallen silent at her appearance, even the horses seemed to have ceased their incessant whinnying "how does your Queen?"

"Every inch the warrior, your grace" Georgie called and the others murmured their agreement; surprise giving way to admiration "Long live Queen Eleanor!" She nodded thankfully as his cry was picked up by all and they placed their hands over their hearts, bowing their heads.

"And long rest my Richard" she whispered to herself, taking a moment to glance up at the clear blue sky and cross herself "god keep you, my love"

"Mama! Mama!" Eleanor looked behind her at the sound of her son's voice and the clanking of armour that resonated around her as the nobles bowed to the young Prince that ran down the steps. Dressed in a suit of armour all his own, George looked the very image of his Father as he rushed to Eleanor and she enveloped him in her arms, brushing her lips against his hair.

"My darling boy" she murmured and he did his best to smile up at her through the grief that was plain in his eyes "you are a true York King this day" nodding to one another, George straightened his back before marching in the direction of his destrier and she set off to hers.

As her eyes settled on the beautiful animal saddled and ready for her, Eleanor felt her breath catch in her throat. The destrier was the very same one Richard had presented her with the day they set off for Tewksbury and as lovely as he had been fourteen years ago.

'Fourteen long years' she mused, brushing a hand through his soft black mane and 'when my love was still young and I was too' a half smile graced her lips as she ran a finger over her reins where golden Es and Rs were intertwined but as quickly as it appeared it fell and tears surged forward.

She could see him now, so clearly, oh so clearly, Eleanor could see Richard. See his smile, hear his rich voice and the steady beat of his heart against her ear that was a soothing rhythm during the night, a constant cadence that kept her very soul alive.

A sound never to be heart again.

No more heavy thud of his boots on the castle steps or the feeling of his lips against her skin, the movement of the covers when he got into bed beside her and their bodies would wind together so naturally, so easily, it was the same as breathing.

She shook her head, almost choking on the sob she forced herself to hide. She couldn't be weak, not now.

No more....
No more....

Forced to return to reality as Cecily appeared once again by her side, Eleanor took the gauntlets her Mother held out to her and slid them onto her hands, flexing the delicate metal fingers.

"Tudor is a coward" she sighed and Cecily nodded her agreement while a look of pure murder came across her features "He thinks that in going to the North and taking my children from me that he can win. He is afraid of battle, a weakling if ever I saw one that decides to pray on little children rather than face blood in a fair fight! He's scared of me! And I'm a woman too" she grimaced "if I wasn't so heartbroken that would actually make me laugh"

The cry of baby Katheryn took their attention and they looked to the steps to see the young Princess being carried down the steps by her nurse who then was escorted swiftly to her own carriage.

"You are taking her with you?" Cecily asked, a note of surprise to her voice but Eleanor merely shrugged as she put her foot in her stirrup and hoisted herself into her saddle.

"I will not leave her"
"The carriage will slow you down...."
"I said I'm not leaving her" a dangerous edge of warning tainted Eleanor's tone, along with a stern glance and Cecily fell silent "I will not be separated from my daughter, not in a time like this, she will stay with me"

Clicking her tongue, her destrier began to move forward to the castle gates and she straightened her back, focusing on the journey ahead until she felt Cecily catch her hand. Looking down she was surprised to see the older woman staring up at her with an almost desperate look in her eyes.

"Please" she whispered "win, Leena, win and come back home" squeezing her hand, Eleanor bent and kissed it, sealing her promise with a nod.

How many times had Cecily been made such a promised only to have it shattered? The Queen could only wonder.

"I will, Mother" She sat back up, holding her head high as George rode to her side, his new golden crown on his head that marked him as the King of England. It was not as magnificent as Richard's had been as it had had to be quickly crafted in preparation for the war but it was beautiful nonetheless and George suited it.

"With me!" The Queen called and the sound of hooves upon cobble filled the air as nobles rode into place and their squires followed, yelling for men to ready themselves with their pikes and shields. Steering her destrier around, Eleanor took a breath as the gates opened and she was met with the sight of a people's army, normal folk armed with all they had yet no less determined than their noble Lords "Today we begin the Long march to the North" she boomed as her horse walked forward and the men parted for her, bowing low as she passed "Today we start the campaign to claim back my son's Kingdom from the evil usurper that has taken it! I will fight till the last breath has left my body, will you fight with me?"

A deafening roar and clamour filled her ears as the men cheered and hollered their support as loud as their voices would allow, banging their pikes and shields on the ground.
"Long live King George! Long live Queen Eleanor!"

"For York and for England!" She cried, nudging her destrier into motion once more and her men fell in behind her, filling the streets of London with the sound of clanking armour as they set off to war once more.

Led by the most magnificent Queen England had ever seen.

꧁꧂

15th of September 1485, North Yorkshire....

Never before had an army been pushed so hard by their leader and never before had they followed so willing and ready to do their duty. For ten gruelling days, Queen Eleanor drove her men up the country with little rest or cease in their quick march.

Through mud, through wind, through rain and the blistering heat that September brought, they marched through towns and villages, city's and fields. As they marched their numbers swelled each second it seemed, men running out to join them as they passed and adding to the royal army.

They set off from London with two thousand men and fifteen nobles.

By the time they reached Yorkshire their ranks had swelled to ten thousand men (commoners and soldiers) and the nobles were becoming uncountable. Knights, Lords, Earls, Dukes all loyal to the house of York (and even some who had gone to Tudor thinking all hope lost after Bosworth) went to join Eleanor's side to fight for her cause.

Their support was something that Eleanor wept over nightly in whichever castle or manor they stopped in, sobbing into her pillows over her grief and the relief that there was hope. Most of her nights were sleepless and she would spend the dark hours of the day and night sitting on her bed with a tear stained face her knees pulled up to her chest.

But she never allowed her son or her men or even her Ladies see her weakness and sorrow. Yes she would spend her nights weeping with only herself for company (and baby Katheryn who slept in a little cot in her chamber) but by morning that sorrowful figure would be gone; swept away by the powerful warrior in black armour that marched men across the country at the devil's pace.

Each morning she would appear ready and confidant and that gave her men the determination to see their task through and carry on even though all were weary of constant movement and wished for a rest.

By the time the tenth night fell over their army, the had reached North Yorkshire and (being in her lands where she knew there was an element of safety) she was a little more willing to let the men rest.

And anyway, they were so close to Middleham now that they would reach it by sundown the next day. So when a few of the nobles entreated her for a rest at Helmsley Castle that night, she did not refuse and the York army lay down their weapons and boots for a few precious hours.