𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑 || 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝐼𝐼

~And Many More~

The dismay brought by the dead of the day was dispelled by many goblets of ale by sunset, filling the York encampment with drunken laughter. Inside the King's tent, men danced atop tables or sat on chairs, whores on their laps that Edward had had brought from the nearest town.

He, of course, partook in the merrymaking and was seated on his throne with a pretty blonde on his knee, one hand gently fondling her exposed breasts. The woman laughed, tangling her delicate hands in his hair, and kissing him full on the lips.

Beside the golden King of York sat Catherine, still dressed in her husband's clothes and dizzy with drink. Smiling lazily at the men around her, she took another sip of ale, the alcohol dashing any embarrassment that would've filled her had she been sober. The candles lighting the tent danced before her eyes, their bright flames turned to flickering amber stars.

Even the pretty blonde's hair was turned to spun gold and in her haze, Catherine reached out to touch a strand only to find slender fingers wrap around her wrist. A pair of deep brown eyes stared into her blue ones and the blonde woman tilted her head, a small smile curving her rosebud lips.

"She's a pretty one, your grace" She murmured and Edward chuckled, pulling her closer.
"She's my sister in law....the Duchess of Gloucester"
"Wife to Prince Richard, Duke of Gloucester" Catherine finished, words slurred, gently pulling her wrist from the woman's grasp and feeling it fall limp into her lap.

"Where is his grace?" The woman asked, peering around "I don't believe I have seen him tonight?" At that, Edward laughed and reached for the bright magenta skirts that were already hiked above her knees.

"You won't see my little brother within ten feet of this place tonight" He answered, brushing his fingers along one smooth thigh "Dickon is a loyal little thing and that loyalty extends to the marriage bed!"
Catherine smiled, nodding slowly.
"I am lucky in that" She murmured, draining the rest of her goblet and pushing herself unsteadily to her feet. Despite the joy of the night's revelries, an inevitable tiredness called her to bed, as well as to her husband.

It was not only for the sake of fidelity he stayed away, she knew, for if Edward had requested his presence he would've been there. It were his injuries that kept him away and she knew he needed to be checked upon. Bobbing a clumsy curtsy to the King, she wandered out of the tent and into the night, the cool air brushing against her skin and sobering her somewhat.

The space surrounding her was all but deserted, her only company being the flickering flames of torches that provided the darkness with a dim glow.

The rowdy noise of Edward's men now behind her, she paused, taking a moment to look up into the inky expanse of the sky, dotted with stars. How many had ascended to the heavens above that day, she wondered, and how many had descended to hell? She knew of at least one that had gone straight to the latter. A man who'd died at her own hand.