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 Last of the Lancastrians~
August 1482, Fotheringhay....
Catherine smiled as she watched Joan dance in the great hall. Sitting on her throne placed on the velvet-covered dais, Cecily sat on her lap, little fist in her mouth and her knees curled up to her chest. Joan's dancing master stood to the side, one hand stroking his grey, pointed beard as he nodded along to the melody the minstrel by him played.
For all her fascination with battle, Joan was grace itself, her steps soft and elegant. She hopped from foot to foot as if she were dancing on air, buttercup yellow skirts twirling around her, the pearls woven into her loose hair shimmering like bouncing stars. Cecily watched her with wide blue eyes, not giggling or chirping as her older siblings would have done when they were her age.
"Would you like to join in, sweeting?" Catherine offered but Cecily shook her head; nestled further into the comfort of her arms.
"Stay" She said quietly and her Mother smiled, kissing the top of her head which was covered in a mass of golden curls. One day her daughters would be gone, married to Lords, possibly even Kings! She would not deny them her embrace while they were young. "As you wish, my love, as you wish"
Joan continued to dance, her eyes closed as they always did when she lost herself to the music surrounding her, like it had woven a spell around her mind, capturing her. The only thing that dared disturb the magic created with each flowing move was the jarring sound of clashing metal in the courtyard outside. Ever since their elder brother and Father had left, Dickon and Edward had trained from dawn till dusk!
"Noisy" Cecily murmured and Catherine chuckled, kissing her little button nose. "It is, isn't it? Still, your brother's must train so they can one day be like your Father!" The young girl peered up at her and she was sad to see the unmistakable look of longing in her eyes. Cecily was extremely attached to all her kin and when they were separated, she was not content.
She missed her Father and brother, wondered where on earth they had gone, when on earth they would come back? Until they did she would stay stuck to her Mother's skirts, not that she ever did anything else.
"Your grace?" Catherine looked up as a serving girl stepped to the side of her throne, curtsying and holding out a sealed piece of parchment "From London, your grace" She said when the Duchess took it, curtsying before scurrying away again.
Immediately she recognised the royal seal and frowned to herself, a knot of worry tying itself tightly in the pit of her stomach. Edward could only be writing to tell her of the war but what would be his reasoning for that? Why wouldn't Richard write to her? Why couldn't Henry?
