𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑋𝐿𝑉

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~The Lion's Den~

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~The Lion's Den~

Westminster Palace, one week later....

Holding tight to the wooden bedpost, Catherine stared at the polished wood as her Mother tugged firmly on the laces of her gown. It had been brought to her that morning, a fine garment of red and crimson velvet commissioned by the Earl of Northumberland for his dear sister, with golden roses delicately sewn along the hem.

"I shall not see you disgraced before the court" He'd told her when handing her the gown, watching with satisfaction as she brushed a hand over the soft material in wonder. At his words, she'd looked up in surprise.

"The court, brother?"
He'd only nodded, providing no other explanation before he departed, leaving a confused Catherine in the company of their Mother.

The reunion of Mother and daughter had been a joyous one despite the sad circumstances, and the young Duchess had clung to Eleanor De Poynings with all her strength. It had given her great joy to finally present Henry to his Grandmother and both women had laughed as they watched the little boy toddle around the bedchamber but now, they stood in silence, a stony silence made taught with the nerves that thrummed within Catherine's chest.

Her days had become a monotonous routine filled to the brim with a melancholy so great, at times she feared she would go mad. It was a pattern of rising at dawn; whiling away the dreary day trying to entertain her son. His little spirit was not accustomed to restraint and thrice she'd caught his little fingers reaching for the window latch!

"Out, Mama!" He would demand when she lifted him down, taking away his opportunity of escape "Out to play!"

Not once had she stepped foot from the chamber the traitor had placed her in but that did not mean she was oblivious to the changes of the court. Many an hour she had passed by the large arched window set into the far wall of her bedchamber, watching in silence or with tears streaking her cheeks as she watched the banners of Lancaster raised high in place of the York ones.

It was not so much that she hated the sight of them as she had done their blue and murrey counterparts as a child. No, the black and crimson almost brought comfort to her, a sense of home, of family almost. For all the world she could not deny that she felt no enmity towards the Lancastrian Lords that flocked to the new court, they were simply of a reminder of her Richard's absence and that was why she cried.

Day and night, hour after hour she prayed for his safety, for the safety of the Queen and her daughters in the crypt of Westminster Abbey. There were hard times ahead, that much was clear.

"You are to go before the King and his court" Her Mother told her, a note of worry to her usually soothing voice as she tied the silk cords of her daughter's dress "You are to be meek, Cate, it is a wonder you are being given this chance at all. This is what your Lancastrian blood affords you; the memory of your Father too. Do not squander it, I beg"

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