AN: So here we go with my first non-Cathry story! *angst* I ADORE Cathry, and am for them steadfastly, BUT my true love is actually Catherine. I wasn't particularly drawn to Richard in the storyline on Reign, but I did rejoice in the fact that someone loved her as much as I wanted her to be loved – comforting her during her difficult times with Henry, even conceiving a child together, loving her like "no man had ever cared for her before", in Catherine's own words. He laid his life down for her to protect her, and honestly I started to want to write his perspective on Catherine – their story (hence not really Cathry, or not happy Cathry anyway – Henry's in there plenty of course), from Richard's point of view. I wrote this chapter and then stalled. Someone encouraged me to do NaNoWriMo in November, which is a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. I chose to pick up this "Richard" fanfic and run with it, and I finished with over 50,000 words today! It's not quite finished, but by the time I publish the later chapters, it should be. I hope you give Richard a chance in my story! I have enjoyed writing from the POV of someone who loves Catherine the way I would if I were him.

This first chapter is kind of almost over the top with his adoration for her, but I wanted to set the scene for him being truly smitten by Catherine.

Chapter One

She floated in on his arm, resplendent but shy, blushing prettily, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. Nobody else existed - the nobles around him, the King and Queen of France in their proud satisfaction, princes and princesses happily smiling for their brother as he escorted his betrothed for her first public appearance at French court. Even his best friend, whose arm she held, seemed to fade from the room along with everybody else. Only she remained.

Time seemed to stop. Sounds became soft and muffled, echoing in the distance. The light of the room sharpened and seemed warmer and brighter. How did she make that happen?! He had never set eyes on such a creature before. The light made her sparkle, or was it she who made the light sparkle? He noticed the dimples in her cheeks, the way the candlelight shone on each of the soft golden curls that framed her face. He was not even that near to her yet. What presence she had for such a young lady.

Nearer and nearer she came, as her husband-to-be led her smoothly to their places at the banqueting table. Near enough for him to see her more clearly, but still removed. His friend pulled out a chair for her when they reached her place and, smiling the most radiant smile he had ever seen, she took her seat.

He saw the curls lean forward, and her earrings, as she bent towards the table to sit in her chair. He watched the way her lips curved upwards at the corners in a timid little smile; the graceful way she held her shoulders. He was utterly captivated. All through the meal he watched her, as subtly as he was able, delighting in the curve of her slender fingers around her glass of wine, the way she ate so carefully, and the rosy hue of her cheeks as the meal went on. The sweet sound of her laughter, nervous but pure, talking to the man who would soon be her husband. He did not know if he had touched his meal at all, save for a few morsels. He had no appetite for food any longer.

After the meal he lost sight of her as she was led to be introduced to person after person. The room being overcrowded with guests, he craned his neck trying to catch sight of her. Even a glimpse of the edge of her skirts was reward enough. He wondered when his friend would bring her over to be formally introduced, and whether he would have the ability to form words in greeting. His hands began to sweat. What had he said her name was again?

"Richard!"

He startled from his thoughts with a jump. There they stood before him, his best friend in the world, and the one who could never be his – the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She smiled shyly, her hand looped around his friend's arm.

"I would like you to meet my future wife! This is Caterina - "

"Catherine…" came the soft, almost apologetic correction. Her voice was as beautiful as the rest of her.

"Catherine," agreed his friend, "Catherine de Medici. This is my closest friend, Viscount Richard de la Croix."

A pause. He felt the expectation. 'Say something!' he thought to himself frantically, 'Say anything, you fool!' Removed from his own body, he watched his own arm reach forward and pick up one of Catherine's hands. He felt like he was touching the moon. Her fingers were soft and so small against his own, which he gently folded around hers and raised her hand out in front of her. Dropping slowly into a respectful bow, he alighted his lips on her treasured skin, allowing himself for just a fraction of a moment to breathe in her scent. Floral… jasmine, perhaps? A fragrance that would forever be his undoing from this day forward, if he happened upon it in the flower gardens. He lowered her hand, letting go her fingers with regret at the loss of contact. He stepped back a pace and straightened.

"It is an honour to meet you, Catherine. You are every bit as beautiful as Henry led me to believe."

Eyelashes fluttering slightly, the rose flush to her cheeks deepening, she turned a bashful face a little to one side, away from the focus of such attentions. He lived and breathed the sight of her sweet smile, rejoicing in the fact that he had put it there on her lovely face. His friend clapped him heartily on the shoulder, chuckling at his flattery of his bride-to-be.

"Come, my friend! Where's your Lady Christine this evening?" He scanned the room cheerfully. "I'm sure she would welcome such a flattering tongue!"

Coming to his senses somewhat, he remembered his place, and who he was speaking with – whose fiancée he had been captivated by.

"Oh, inseparable from Marie and Colette this evening – see?" Richard gestured across the bustling hall with a laugh, trying to sound as casual as possible. Three giggling girls in embellished ruffled gowns huddled together at the far side of the room, arms linked. They looked as eager as the other young guests watching the musicians setting their instruments up, ready for the dancing.

Henry nodded, amused. "I see what you mean! Well, my condolences at the loss of your lady for the evening!" He laughed at his own humour, and added with a wink, "It's a shame you can't dance with the most beautiful lady in the room all night, like a lucky man I happen to know…"

Henry's folly cut through Richard like a knife, little did he realise the pain he could be inflicting with his words, or how badly his friend wished he could be that lucky man. He glanced at Catherine, who was flushed once more, uncomfortably flattered at the attention Henry was giving her in front of his friend. Pushing his jealousy down, Richard held his head high.

"Perhaps ONE dance wouldn't be too much to ask, friend?"

Had he just said that out loud? He cowered inside, despite his bold stance, afraid that somehow Henry might see through his exterior, might read his mind and know that his best friend was smitten, that his bride-to-be had Richard's heart. Or perhaps he would be angry at the audacity of such a request, when he himself had only just received his future wife into his company, and should not be deprived of her for any reason.

But Henry laughed and grasped his friend's shoulder amiably, "Of course! It's the least I could do to help a friend in his hour of need!"

Richard had just a moment to catch Catherine's bashful eye, suddenly feeling the urge to apologise for being so forward with someone so special and out of his reach. But before he could communicate anything, she was swept away on Henry's arm, ready to join the King and Queen in leading the dancing for the evening, and Richard was left to process his thoughts, his mind and heart reeling from the unexpected onslaught of feelings towards the new lady in his life – or rather unfortunately for him, in his friend's life.