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 Royal Road to Fotheringhay~
December 1467, Fotheringhay, Northamptonshire....
The air blew cold around them as Richard pulled his steed to a halt, icy flecks of snow, landing and melting on their warm cheeks. His hand on her waist, he slowly guided her to the side, a shy grin curving his lips while one gloved hand pointed into the grey clouds of the horizon.
"Look!"
Catherine smiled at his whisper, the unusual sound of excitement seeping into his voice and therefore creeping into hers too. For the entirety of their two week journey from the North, their souls seemed to have become one. They shared each thought, each breath, each moment where they laughed and smiled, talking of their new life together.
And finally, they had arrived at it.
A small gasp escaped the young Duchess' lips at the sight of the castle in the near distance, its tall turrets and strong walls just as the drawing in the York book had depicted. The same thatched cottages she had seen lined the river, laying claim to the banks supporting Fotheringhay's small village; its towering church. Despite the winter cold, the fields surrounding the castle and its deep, icy moat, were green with lush grass that waved in the wind.
"See!" Richard chuckled, nudging his horse into a walk when he heard saw the procession ahead enter the castle gates "Even Mother Nature welcomes us to our new home!"
"And the people!" Catherine chimed, pointing to the blue and murrey flag quickly raising high above the fetterlock bailey while smoke streamed from the kitchen chimneys "I hope they like us!"
"Like us!" Her husband echoed "Why, they shall love us, Cate! As long as we prove just and fair rulers which is what I intend to be!" A determined tilt of his chin assured her of his words and Catherine grinned beneath the hood of her cloak. He had talked so much of how he wished to rule the land that was now his, as if he were a King finally crafting his own Kingdom! Perhaps that was truly how he saw it? A way of imitating his adored elder brother?
He wanted to make Edward proud, that was a certainty, though she for one was sure he could never do anything but! Only, there was a sense he wished to do the dead proud too. His Father, who had once owned this great fortress. Fotheringhay had been the jewel in the late Duke's magnificent crown of castles and both he and his wife took great pride in it, working to enhance its luxurious interior and land.
Work Richard wished to continue.
Each night before they retired in one great manor or another, he would tell her of his plans, of his hopes and dreams for England now he had been set free unto the world. Lit by the candles by their bed, his features would almost dance with dreams, eyes bright with ambition. York ambition. He proved talented with pencil and parchment, to her surprise, and he could often be found sketching when they rested in an evening.
