- 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛 -
It's the year 1464 and Eleanor Woodville lives at Grafton Manor as one of the younger daughters of Jacquetta and Sir Richard Woodville. At 11 years old, her worries are little and her joys great but her o...
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~Sister~
January 1484, Westminster....
Eleanor smiled encouragingly at her sister as she walked towards the dais at the far end of the great hall, where the King and Queen sat on their thrones, their friends on either side.
Catherine took slow, steady breaths as she walked, focusing on the steady tap of her shoes on the stone floor rather than the piercing eyes of the court that looked at her with a degree of disgust. She knew they viewed her as nothing but a widow of a traitor and that she was a Woodville made it all the worse!
That was something Eleanor was now thoroughly safe from. She was no longer a Woodville to the court and the nobility; had successfully made her way into the Plantagenet family and was considered a York by almost all in the country! First she had won the love of the people with her generosity and spirit then she had won the nobles when she stood against Elizabeth.
And now she was their Queen. A Queen that was just and fair, unlike the vindictive one before her and who made friends with the old nobility instead of trying to force them into the gutter!
Yes, Eleanor of York was safe.
CatherineWoodville was not.
The nobility had always resented her marriage to Harry and now that he had died a traitor she was the object of their scorn and dislike. Earlier that week Eleanor had come to her with an offer she could not refuse. She would be proclaimed Countess of Kent and would have the lands to go with that title; would not be left a penniless widow.
The only condition was that her children were to live in the country on her lands while she stayed in London as one of the Queen's Ladies. It seemed Richard wanted to keep an eye on her, still stung by her husband's betrayal and didn't want for her to follow the same path.
That morning she had said goodbye to her son in a river of tears, but now, walking towards the King and Queen at Westminster Palace, she felt a little more like herself.
Her hair was arranged in an intricate braid that was coiled at the back of her head and had small gems woven into it. Her gown had been one Eleanor had lent to her and had fitted, a light green damask with a golden girdle around her waist. And, her favourite, she had a necklace of emeralds and rings on her fingers as she had always done!
As Catherine finally came to a stop, she found her hands curling into the silk of her gown as she curtsied; legs trembling a little. She dared to glance up, as she stayed in her curtesy that almost had her kneeling on the floor. While Eleanor smiled at her a little, her eyes warm and encouraging, Richard's were cold and his face almost unreadable.
