𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑 || 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝐿𝑋𝑋𝐼𝐼𝐼

~Those who Trespass Against us~

George was dragged to the Tower, without a moment to lose and without ceremony. He had called for the King the whole way there according to Richard (who had had to try with all his strength to refrain from hitting his brother again), throwing accusations here, there and everywhere!

While the rest of the court buzzed, the royal family retreated behind closed doors, causing more speculation then they would've done had they been out in the open. They knew how important appearances were, how much of a difference they could make to a situation but this was one with no happy endings.

If they appeared, they did not care about the traitor and were unable to dispense justice. If they locked themselves away they were either, plotting his death or plotting against one another.

Either way made the House of York appear weak and Catherine knew as she woke the morning after her that she could not face the court. Not only had her boy's life been threatened but her darkest secret had been revealed to the prying eyes she thought would never know, had prayed would never know. Now they did and she knew it would take less than a day for the rumour (for that was it was in the eyes of the court since it had been spouted by a madman) to reach the Tower where the imprisoned Marguerite would hear it.

Only she would know it was true and Catherine could still hardly bear the thought of the Lancastrian Queen thinking ill of her.

So, she and Richard spent the next two days in their rooms, with their children and in one another's arms. They created the same warmth and comfort they had when at Fotheringhay, when they were young and new in the ways of love, when everything was bright and untainted.

Henry, while he tried to put on a brave face, was shaken to the core and stayed abed for most of the first day. Joan, ever one to look out for her older brother, had worried for him, sitting at his door and waiting for him to appear. When he didn't, she snuck into his room to find him crying on his pillows and promptly slid into bed beside him. He'd clung to her, she'd clung to him and that was how their parents found them that evening, sound asleep.

Dickon and Edward were the only two of the household that did not notice a strange shift in their daily routine! At four and one they were not much bothered and simply happy they had more time to play! Their parents watched them from the window seat in their bedchamber, Catherine curled up in Richard's arms, her head on his chest.

Neither of them spoke much but they didn't need to. They knew that had each other and that was all they truly wanted in those moments.

꧁꧂

Richard was silent as he let Catherine dress him for the morning his brother's trial would begin. Black velvet trimmed with white fur. Day to night, pure to tainted, life to death. The colours of mourning in England and in France. If she disapproved, she didn't say a word and in all sense, he wasn't sure if he approved himself.