𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙....
In a world of bloody war and misgivings that lead to treason, there is only one thing Catherine Percy can be sure of and that is danger.
Her life had not always been thus, f...
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~The New Queen~
Two weeks later, August 1464....
"You really should be more careful!" Catherine scolded as she sat at her dressing table, fingers curled around the ruby ring about her neck. A reminder of the husband that might have been.
The husband that was, sat behind her on the bed, a cloth filled with ice pressed to his forehead to help cease the incessant sting caused by the gash above his left eyebrow. A wry smile crossed his lips as their eyes met in her mirror and he shrugged.
"That is what it is to be a knight!" He replied "Injuries are to be borne as marks of pride! If we do not fight and lose we will never learn to win!" Cathrine smiled at that, tucking her ring into the front of her bodice before walking to the bed. She sat beside him, peeling away the ice filled cloth from his skin and raising an eyebrow at the blood staining it.
"Did John tell you that? Or Rob?" "Johnny" He answered confidently, grimacing at the soft fingers that gently traced along his cut "Careful, my Lady!"
"You are the one that should be careful!" Catherine retorted, taking the cloth in hand and pressing it back to his wound "You come back with a new piece taken from you each day! Really, George should be more gentle when you fight, he is older than you!" Dickon scoffed, shaking his head.
"That is no reason why I cannot beat him! A good knight should be able to beat all opponents, no matter the age!"
From the first days she had seen him training it had become clear there was a burning rivalry between the two brothers. Each was determined to prove the best in the eyes of their guardian, the Earl of Warwick. It was already quite clear that Edward favoured the younger of his two brothers and so George was determined to be the favourite for once.
That and he took great pleasure in strutting about the courtyard in his armour; barking at servants that passed by. He seemed to relish his power over them, another trait he shared with Warwick and made Catherine shiver when she saw it. Not that he was ever much in the tiltyard with the other boys where she liked to sit and watch. George was much more inclined to keep his armour clean, reclining in one solar or another while his slender fingers plucked at the little lyre he owned.
Until, of course, an opportunity came for him to beat his little brother down.
"Well you are not a knight yet" She sighed, tempted to smile slightly at Dickon's defensive frown. "I am!" He snapped "Ned made me a knight of the garter three years ago! And with my training I shall be worthy of such a title!" "If you say so, my Lord" "I do say so!" He huffed, folding his arms across his chest, at which, he flinched slightly, one hand resting atop his right shoulder.
