Chapter 9

Mary felt Richard's discontented feelings towards the situation before he even voiced his feelings on the matter to her. With Edward now officially trying to entrance her with amorous temptations (as confirmed by the spectacle he made at breakfast in inviting her to eat with him), she felt nothing now but disgust at it all, at herself most of all. But her feelings were inconsequential at this point, Richard was most unhappy with the move his brother made with her. And Mary could understand: he did not want her to be another notch on his brother's bedpost. In truth, she did not know how she had acquired his attentions and why it had been her of all women to have captured his attention. She tried to ponder upon the situation as she rushed to the gardens, where she knew that Richard had slunk off to in quiet rage. Being one's closest friend, one would simply know where their friend would go. Clutching her kirtle delicately in one hand, she sauntered off to the gardens.

Hearing the telltale thuds of arrows hitting a board and grunts of frustration that followed it, Mary deduced that his temper was rising. Walking past the bushes that separated them, she saw him come into view with his back to her. Archery range once more and he still could not notch an arrow dead centre. "Richard?" She called his attention as he was letting an arrow loose, causing him to miss the centre by a fraction. He let out another grunt of frustration and readied another arrow with a huff. Still, he did not respond to her.

"Richard?" Mary tried calling him again, only to once again succeeding in fueling his temper once more.

"What is it you want from me?" He asked in a steely voice, his sharp gaze not one leaving the board. "If it is my company you seek, then you will be grossly disappointed." He let loose his arrow, missing the centre once more by a fraction. He paused a moment. "In fact, why don't you ask my brother for it? You seemed to enjoy his company during breakfast, laughing at jokes as the Queen scowled into her goblet." He sighed in anger, still unable to look at her. "Mary, you had known that he desires you. Why is it that you did not refuse his invitation and encouraged him further?"

"I could not refuse him!" Mary was almost offended at the suggestion. "If I could, I would have. But I know that my mother would have told me otherwise, that she would have needed me to keep the power within the family. I am not a boy, Richard." She heard Richard scoff.

"Clearly, you are not." Richard muttered aloud. She glared in response to his ill-placed comment.

"I do not share the same privileges or liberties as you. Thus you know that I had no choice on the matter; to refuse him would mean a disgrace to my family." Mary pleaded, as she saw his ire being provoked.

"No choice?" He huffed in his anger. "No choice?" He turned sharply and marched towards her, carelessly tossing aside his unloaded bow. He grabbed her by the curve of her waist with one hand, his fingers digging into the material of her dress and molding into her figure, Mary felt her breath hitch. He tucked her left hand into his right and pulled her close to him. Their long, lithe fingers instinctively began to wound and intertwine with each other.

Mary found herself taken aback by this sudden turn of events. She started to struggle against his hold upon her. "Richard, you are too intimate with me. I beg of you, release me." She protested, but Richard had just let loose a lugubrious laugh.

"I did not think that you had much care for decorum nowadays my lady, or ever did. You have always spent your time in the company of men rather than women and have very few female friends. And not only that, you have the King seeking your attentions." Richard cleared his throat. "Now, tell me, are these the qualities of a decorous lady?"

"No, but-" Mary stuttered, but was interrupted by a confident response.

"If my brother caught you in this position and asked you to lie with him, what are you going to do?" Richard challenged. "Let him have his way with you because you had no choice?" He let out a bitter, hollow laugh.

"I would push him away." Mary said plainly, with just as much challenge in her own voice. She would not be intimidated by him. "For trying to take advantage of me."

"Then why do you not push me away? Or at least try harder to?" Richard asked, the hard set of his mouth portraying his struggle in controlling his emotions. "Am I not taking advantage of you? -Or is your judgement flawed?" He taunted.

In indignation, Mary slapped Richard; the hit clearly and painfully resounding in the air. "I will not have you belittle me!" Mary cried at him, her pride hurt. She struggled against his hold, but he held her tight within his arms. "Why do you unleash your anger at me when your brother-" She stomped on the ground and wriggled against him. "Is clearly the intended recipient! I refuse to be caught in the crossfire!"

"Why do you refuse to be so?- When many women would wish to be in your place?" Richard asked, the struggle between the two of them showing upon his face in a growing red hue. "Two York princes fighting over your attentions."

Mary stopped struggling, her anger becoming steely. "I am not," she enunciated through her teeth. "Some prize to be won. I am not some creature that you can display its head upon a board. I am not some toy that you can obsess and fantasise about then toss away the moment you are bored with it!" Mary reined in her impetuous feelings, breaths measured slowly with closed eyes to clear her vision. She looked up to Richard's eyes and whispered with sincerity "My judgement is not flawed, or at least I am lead to believe that it is sound. I am not pushing you away because you are one of the few people I trust with my life and I trust that you will not try to take advantage of me."

"Then clearly, my dearest Mary," Richard said tenderly, his temper softening, waning in its strength amidst her confession. "Your judgement is flawed, because how can I resist the idea of taking advantage of such a comely lady?" Richard said, a genuine smile breaking through his earlier hard set features.

Mary smiled at him and laughed, her laugh sounding like wind chimes tinkling in the wind after a rainstorm. Pushing Richard away in her euphoria, she couldn't have escaped that easily away from him. Mary felt a slight tug on her hand, still entwined with his and was surprised to find herself twirled around, her skirts creating winds that blew away the leaves that dare fall upon her feet. Her giggles echoed throughout the garden, permeating the tense atmosphere from earlier and the grass became a more viriscent in hue, more youthful in its appearance and the roses bloomed with more beauty. In one fluid movement, he pulled her close to him, as if in an intimate embrace, one that certainly defined the depth of their friendship.

"Mary, darling Mary, you know that I care for you deeply." He murmured to her softly, his tone tender and countenance loving. All around them, the atmosphere became quiet; no bird nor resounding crunching of branches could be heard, as if their breaths were held in anticipation, waiting for his next words. "But you know that my brother, whatever his claims, does not care for the affairs of the heart." He brought her hand to his chest, letting her long, pale fingers artfully splay against the dark blue of his tunic. "Rather, he desires the pleasures of the flesh." He brought her hand to rest upon her bosom, pulling his own hand away reluctantly. He brushed away some unbound hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, then traced a path down to her chin to push it up to face him with a gentle nudge. "I would so hate to see you hurt, so my advice to you is that you stay away from him as much as he can allow you. You need to let him lose interest in you." Insistent yet docile was his tone, his protective nature coming into play.

"And what if he does not?" Mary asked, a childish fearfulness crept into her viridescent eyes. "What if he continues to pursue me?"

Richard sighed, dropping his hand from her face as she rushed to gain comfort from him in an embrace. She buried her face against his chest, wrapping her arms tightly against his torso. "Let us hope not, for it will mean that I will have to try to intervene." Richard joked nervously. He hugged her tighter, his arms securely wrapped around her shoulders. And in that moment, he realised how truly young she was in comparison to him. How delicate and how petite she was in comparison to him! Only fourteen summers old and already she commanded the desire of a King. Not many women could boast to have done that and very few enjoyed its consequences.

"Richard, then I must confess," Mary whispered in anguish, as if the very thought of what she was about to tell him pained her physically. "The King has requested my presence at the banquet, that I am to dine with him and Lizzie."

He was dumbstruck. "Then I am lost to you. All you can do now then is wait until the storm has passed, for I hope that this is nothing more than a passing fancy."


As Mary sat fanning herself of the sultry heat of the great hall, she felt herself shifting uncomfortably in her finery as the stares of all the courtiers fell upon her in curiousity. Others, she now noticed, regarded her with lust, an imperceptible gleam in their eye that sent trembles of disgust coursing through her. Bedecked in gold jewellery dripping with pellucid diamonds that winked prettily when candlelight hit it, the weight of the finery helped to keep her head as she sat atop her chair, the one she had been escorted to by the king himself. Her sister's gaze was upon her from the Queen's seat burned through her very being. Mary willed herself not to flinch at the fell looks her sister rewarded her with. The only good thing, it seems, of her position is that it gave her an advantageous view of Richard's reading.

With her brother much too unhappy with her, Mary was unfortunate enough not to have been graced with his presence. With no one to converse with, Mary felt his anger and subsequent absence most keenly. In his rage, he refused to attend the banquet and his absence had been noted by many with the utmost glee.

Mary absentmindedly played with the venison she had been served, having lost her appetite after taking only a couple of swallows as the King sat next to her, feasting with relish. Another poke from her was all it took for him to notice her lack of appetite. The candles flickered and the room dimmed as he did so, subtly.

"Lady Mary?" He stopped chewing for a moment. "Are you not hungry?"

"Your Grace," Mary acknowledged and painted her courtier's smile upon her features as she quietly exaggerated her feelings to him. "No, I am too filled with excitement at finally having to hear Richard's long awaited piece." Mary's heart let out an irregular beat at the white lie. "Richard has been working hard to make it a compelling piece and one to do Chaucer justice, or so I am told." She gave him one of her more plainer smiles, but it seems she had won over him again as she saw his pupils dilate.

"Richard, Duke of Gloucester!" The court announcer proclaimed. Mary's attention was immediately turned to Richard, all thoughts of the king snatched and forgotten in her capriciousness, in her eagerness to see Richard's performance.

The man in question walked forward, an air of grace surrounding him that commanded both the respect and attention of people in the hall. Bowing before the King and Queen, he saw Mary from the corner of his eye and rewarded her with a secretive smile as he did so. Impeccably dressed in a cream tunic finely trimmed with gold and a matching pair of ecru breeches, Richard looked every bit a York Prince with the exquisite tailoring of his clothing. His dark curls were neatly brushed to each side of his face, framing his slightly tanned visage.

Holding his hand up in a signal to quiet down the murmurs, he thus began with, "Heere bygynneth the Knyghts Tale," his voice was gently echoing throughout the hall, quietly commanding the attention of his peers. A great orator in the making was certainly standing before them, the courtiers recognized his potential as his hands were now open and his stance relaxed. "Langue domos patrias, Scitnice poss aspera gentis. Prelia, laurigero, etc." He announced confidently, an aura of intrigue began to surround the room on how the story was to continue. "And now Theseus, drawing nigh his native land in laurelled car after fierce battling with the Scithin folk, etc."

And such was his introduction. The courtiers watched Richard in mesmerisation, as he spun his tale with such enthusiasm and passion, creating an unmistakable mystique in their eyes. His body was at one with his actions, flowing gracefully from phrase to phrase of the poem. Men watched him with respect and admiration as the women swooned a little and stared up at him with little more than admiration, as if finally seeing him in a different light, rather than the eccentric boy he had been regarded as.

But the section that did catch many nobles' attention was when Richard had looked straight to Mary and had begun to describe Hippolyta's sister Emily, "This continued year after year, day after day, until it so happened on one occasion on a May morning that Emily, who was more beautiful to see than a lily on its green stalk and fresher than May with its new flowers, because her complexion vied with the colour of the rose-" Mary blushed a pretty shade of the said rose and did even further when he admitted to all who had been present, "I don't know which was the more exquisite-" Women all looked to her in envy, but Mary did not notice. Words of flattery did not usually affect her in this way, but to hear it come from him, Mary did feel all that the word described and more.

But she couldn't understand, these strange palpitations that resonated through her. His dark eyes gave colour to her alabaster complexion, staining it with dark shades likening to those of the deep vermillion petals of a rose. Yet, she stayed composed under the scrutiny of the many unwed women present.

She took a sip from her goblet, as a dryness in her throat persisted. But when she had lifted the goblet to her waiting lips, Mary had found only a drop had slid down. She lifted her goblet to her side, a gesture to the attendants that she would like to have it refilled. Muffled steps came up next to her hurriedly as she kept her gaze upon Richard's form, unwilling to break away from his compelling performance. A heaviness began to settle upon her hand as her goblet was being filled, sounding almost ominous in nature, the metal being hit rung bluntly in searing pulses in her ears, like church bells ringing.

Mary felt a gust of cold wing being blown towards her as the manservant had bowed and made his exit as hastily as he had come. Raising her goblet leisurely to her impatient lips, she paused a moment as a giggle was expelled from them at a point of Richard's act. A delicate sip was thus taken, savouring the tangy taste of the malmsey wine.

A few further gulps was ingested, slowly swallowed.

Richard's reading was certainly enjoyable thus far and the persisting heat in the hall encouraged Mary to sip a bit more of her wine, as it cooled her parched throat.

Moments later, her surroundings melted from a warm, sharp coloured vision to blurred, hazy images of pastel colours. She felt herself swaying slightly, lightheaded and unable to see past the artificial mist that was forming before her eyes. Was it the strong, heady scents that surrounded her that caused this?

She felt almost drowsy, numb even, her limbs lethargic. Her movements were slow, but was neither measured nor calculated. She slid sluggishly from her pedestal next to the king, her skirts acting as her impediment. Mindlessly ghosting through the hall with her eyes half-lidded, she raised the attention of all in attendance, even causing Richard to stop in an abrupt manner as she walked past him aimlessly.

"Mary?" Richard called after her in worry. All eyes were upon her as she wandered towards the exit of the hall.

But she did not respond.

No noise was clear to her; all forms of sound was muffled in her ears like that of the man servant's footsteps. Upon making her exit from the great hall, she was met by a sudden gust of cold wind, a crepuscular corridor kept alight only by lonely embers and silence. A step beyond, then pain surged through her entire being, an unlit fire flamed within her limbs and her lungs burned in agony. Choking on the air she breathed on, she clutched her chest and scratched desperately at the furred bodice. The very air that surrounded her - cool air- burned, scorched her burning lungs. Falling unto her knees into a pool of velvet and taffeta, her vision failed further, the burning embers only orange blotches in her eyes. Before her head could hit the ground, she felt her burning skin being soothed by a warm touch that cradled her against a woolen tunic.

Calloused fingers were tangled into her thickly coiled hair to support her head as it lolled from side to side. In looking up, Mary saw a blurred image of cream and curled ebony, one that seemed to peer at her.

Mary felt the person, whomever it was, had been cradling her gently against their chest and had now used their knees as her support. Her vision blurred further, the person's features became sketchier, as if entering a murkier realm. Her breathing had further worsened, became dogged, more laborious. As she struggled to breath in, faint traces of a comforting woodsy scent filled her lungs, its memory of cold, fresh air acting as a balm that was soothing the burning sensations. But those sensations endured, the fire continuing to be coaxed out of her none too gently, triggering a series of coughs that racked her body in agony. Amidst her already deteriorated sight of brown and cream tones, a vivid red spot seemed to have been expelled from her body, staining the beautiful cream material before her eyes.

Ragged coughs followed after it, each one summoning more and more of the red colour to the growing spot and welcoming more affliction. She felt the person tighten their arms around her slight shoulders and she felt more engulfed in warmth. It all became too much...her vision started to spin and the pastel colours evanesced into tenebrosity.


Mary could -no, will- never forget the searing pain that had been bestowed upon her by whichever divine being decided to torture her. No words could fully describe the terrible affliction which she had been subjected to. Burning sensations raged within her and her skin was simultaneously being cooled and wet. The feeling had been too much for her mind to endure and so her mind departed from her earthly vessel that it may take refuge somewhere else.

Walking in darkness, she felt helpless… almost aimless. But in the dimness, a burst of light blinded her and she felt the feeling of being wet once again. She had lifted her arm up to shield her eyes, but now she lowered it to find sketches of a dark forest being laid before her. The ground beneath her feet felt gravelly, dry… as if it was infertile, incapable of bearing offspring. A sour wind blew forth, tendrils of her hair caught upon her face. Mary felt herself turn back and found a boar charging towards her, its wild eyes looking straight at her. In her haste to get away, she tripped upon her skirts and stumbled on her side, with the boar galloping cleanly past her, drawing up faint trails of dust in its wake.

As she stared after it, the boar seemed to transfigure into a body of waters, slithering smoothly down the dusty trail. Its colour was strange, black as the boar had been in its Stygian shade and opaque, but in its waters, dark streaks of bold crimson red and wooden swords floated. As it ran, it ran down the same crossroad path as the boar once had, many years past. Falling over the cliff, Mary saw no drop of water left behind on the ground, no moisture in its wake. She felt a cold wind blow past her and she turned back to see its source and only saw a mass of scintillating rays.

She felt herself rushing back, gasping and feeling something rising from within her, impatient to get out. She lurched upwards and sidewards as she felt herself retching over the bedside, every fibre of her being desperate to expel these ill humours. The sour taste burned in her throat and the hair upon her face did not help, tickling her cheeks and nose. As she continued to convulse, she felt a weight dip next to her and calloused hands held back her hair. She felt her eyes burn at the pain of vomiting and her body sore, until there was no more to empty her of except her soul.

She drew a heavy breath, sitting back up to get her bearings and observed the room around her. The sun had already risen, the sun's rays glistering dimly. The room was her own, though stuffier than what she was used to. Her throat was afire after her awakening and in her state of disarray, Mary had only just realised someone else was in the room with her as she heard pointed steps walking around her bed. Mary looked up, tossing aside her irritating curls to look upon her companion. There, sitting on a seat next to her bed, Richard sat smugly, smirking at her with a copy of Troilus and Criseyde in his hand. His own ebony curls neatly combed to both sides of his face and a fresh suit for the day, Richard looked exactly the opposite of what Mary felt: clean, composed and comfortable.

She gazed upon him with envy, the cleanliness she was, at this very moment, desirous to obtain. "This is a very familiar scene, is it not dearest Mary?" Richard asked offhandedly with a smile to accompany his (seemingly) innocent remark. "We have become so accustomed to this that I feel this has become a routine already!"

He moved towards her to help her plump up her pillows as she struggled to move properly without injuring herself. It irked Mary that Richard seemed so blithesome in her presence, but could not bring herself to fully fault him for it as he brushed the hair that had fallen on her face and tucked it behind her ear lovingly, coaxing an involuntary adoring smile to bloom upon her face. The affectionate moment seemed to last for longer than it should have as he gazed amorously into her eyes, but then in haste, he jumped up from her as if he had remembered something and walked over to her washstand. "How are you feeling now?" Richard asked conversationally (though a tone of stiffness was evident in his voice) as he brought a basin of water and a washcloth to her.

Mary shrugged, still feeling the rasp and burn of her throat as well as the soreness of the whole of her body. As she tried to move parts of her body, she felt as if her legs were suspended, unable to move except for a twitch she had to force. She felt panic overcome her. But Richard was unaware of it all, as he kept his head down, squeezing the excess water from the washcloth. "Because you've been asleep for almost a fortnight, dear Mary. Many have been quite worried that you would not last the first two nights and many more were afraid that you would not wake from your slumber." He looked sharply up at her as he heard no response, and found her with a terrified expression upon her face. "Mary? Are you alright?"

"Richard?" She whispered quietly, almost a ghost of her old self. "Why can I not feel my legs?"

An expression of affliction overcame his earlier jocund features. He put down the basin of water next to her and sat himself down on her bedside, a pensive look upon his face. In meeting his eyes, Mary found a hint of sadness lingering in them. "Mary," He whispered just as softly. "What do you remember?"

She stumbled on that question, it was one she did not expect from him. Richard had never been one to pry, but she supposed for him to ask such a rare question, it must be important. "I-" She saw flashes of darkness and low-burning flames, memories of sensations of burning and ravages of non existent flames within her lungs that threatened to spill to her throat. "I remember feeling as if I was being burnt alive, inside and out." She felt herself involuntarily touch the skin of her arm as if to soothe the imaginary flames there.

As if in lament, Richard's eyes darkened and his head hung as if in grief in what to tell her. "Mary," He whispered painfully. "You had been poisoned, you may not be able to walk for a month or two at least, the court physician has said."

Those words rung in her ears, repeating on a loop. You had been poisoned... "It had been pre-meditated, but of course things can go very wrong if the wrong people had been used. It was lucky then that you had not ingested as much food to have made it truly fatal to your health."

Mary was breathing heavily, in panic. "What do you mean? Someone wanted me dead, murdered?" Mary said, her eyes widening. "I have not done anything!"

Richard was quick to reassure her. "Of course, you have not done anything, but your connections alone can kill you."

"Why had not anyone realised that there had been poison in my meal?" Mary asked, confused. "Did not the court taster taste my food?"

Slowly, Richard expelled a long breath of tension. "Of course he did. But he paid the price for it with his life." Richard looked to her intently. "He ate a mere bite of your food, yet you had eaten nearly half of it! What had been so different?"

"I- I do not know." Mary confessed truthfully.

"Then I daresay that you may have been born with a strong disposition." Richard exclaimed, not believing that that could have been the true answer to the enigma that was Mary's assassination attempt. "But I doubt that this will be the end to any and all attempts that will be made on your life, dear Mary."

"And my would-be assassinator? What of them?" Mary whispered, curious about what will be their fate.

"They are to be executed in a fortnight, a period of time (we hope) will be enough for us try and be able to get information out of them. But it seems, that they would not relent any information." Richard revealed, but Mary felt that he was keeping more from her.

"So, you have found my assassinator?" Mary asked, her eyes widening by the moment. Who could it have been?-And what reason could they have had to kill me? Mary wondered. In her desperation to sate her curiousity, she impulsively asked him, "Then, will you not reveal their identity to me or will it continue to be a secret?"

To her disappointment, Richard shook his head. "I cannot say anything else, my brother has forbade me to say anything else. But know that it will be someone you would have never suspected" He muttered apologetically.

"Then, Richard-" Whatever it was she was going to say, he was not able to hear because a knock came upon the oaken door and it opened to reveal the worried face of Anthony.

"My Lord Richard, it is my turn now to sit with Mary, how is she?" He said in a tired voice, his eyes cast downwards as he made his steps as quiet as possible. But as he heard the muttered words being said in the chamber, he looked up to find his sister awake. The corners of his mouth immediately upturned to see his Mary awake. "Mary!" He breathed warmly.

"Anthony!" Mary rasped in delight and bright smile that illuminated her visage, which was further made beautiful by the afternoon rays of the sun framing it delicately, giving her a seraphic glow.

Anthony sat at her bedside in haste and took one of her hands, placing a delicate, chaste kiss upon it. Gazing upon her in wonder, he whispered, "I almost cannot believe that you are sitting here before me, dear sister. You had been asleep for so long I was almost lead to believe that you could only have been awoken with true love's kiss!" He said each word with care as he stared at her (and her him) in reverence. So much so that they had forgotten Richard's presence in the room with them.

Richard cleared his throat and two sets of eyes looked to him, one in sudden awareness and the other in mild irritation. "I shall leave you two alone then and I shall inform everyone that Mary is awake," Richard stood and walked to the exit, his book at hand. His expression was hard to read and he bowed stiffly to both of them with a, "Mary, My Lord Anthony." And he thus left.

Anthony turned his attentions back to Mary. "I am very glad you are awake now. I'd almost lost hope."

"And what of the rest of our family?" Mary asked, genuinely curious. "What did they do?"

Anthony lost his dreamy expression and it was replaced by a thoughtful one. "Mother seemed quite shaken by the ordeal and has retreated into the chapel for a majority of the time to pray. Elizabeth is quite… unfazed by your poisoning, or so she displays. Little Elizabeth and Cecily are constantly asking after you, already missing you badly. A fortnight deprived of your exuberant presence is too terrible a torture for them."

Mary's eyes widened at his last statement. "Is that how long I have been asleep? A fortnight?" Mary rasped harshly.

"Did not Richard tell you?" Anthony said, confused.

Mary swallowed. "No he only told me that-" She caught herself before she was about to tell him the pieces of information that she was about to expose to him, that her would-be assassinator is someone she never would have suspected. Instead, Mary said, "That I will not be able to walk for the following fortnight. How very inconvenient." She tried to state lightheartedly.

"Yes, how very inconvenient." Anthony said drolly, rolling his eyes at her antics and humouring her.

That sent her spiralling into a fit of giggles and triggering Anthony into one as well. But she sobered with realisation, or maybe a fear… "What if I will never be able to walk again, Anthony? Or what if I will need a stick to walk?"

Anthony smiled at the paranoia she was displaying, her cheeks flushed from the mix of emotions she was embroiled in. He dismissed it with a calm shake of his head. "Mary, I am sure that that will not be the case. If it does come to it, then I shall be your stick. But I dare not believe that your disability will endure. You are still young and healthy, you will recover soon, I am sure of it because-" He gave a pause and looked to Mary pointedly, "What do I always say, dearest sister?"

She rolled her eyes heavenwards. "Amor vincit omnia, brother." She recited. "Love conquers all." Upon saying this, Mary's eyes widened dramatically in faux realisation. "I never took you to be a romantic, brother."

Anthony guffawed at that remark, he certainly did not expect that response. "Only in your eyes, Mary, would I ever be seen as a romantic."

"No, I should not think so. Many unmarried ladies are vying for your attentions. Why should you deny them that romantic nature of yours?" Mary teased.

Anthony laughed yet again at the cheeky smile that graced her features, but then stopped short as she heard heavy footsteps echoing throughout the hallway outside of Mary's chambers. A frustrated cry of "Brother, wait!" rang ominously in their ears. Anthony stood to meet whatever was coming towards them, as Mary clung on to her bedsheets to cover her already cloaked form. "Brother, what is happening?" Mary whispered nervously at Anthony's stiff form.

Staying still, he whispered back. "I haven't the slightest idea." Gripping the wood of the back of the chair, his stance stiffened further, his muscles tightening as if to spring as the heavy foot let me have a look."

But he did not need to. The oaken door burst open (leaving Mary to wonder later on how the hinges still kept it in place), with dust billowing from its spine. It opened to reveal the King, with an expression of wonder and an appearing happiness. "My Lady Mary!" He cried in utter joy as he swaggered towards her with grace and ease befitting of his station. Mary thought he looked almost breathless, but Richard (who had ran after his brother) looked to be exhausted, almost unable to keep up with his elder brother's long strides.

The King approached her with such ease and intimacy that Mary felt the whole of her body shrink away from him, her body unconsciously moving under the covers as if to be absorbed by them. Yet he smiled at her as he strode towards her bedside, as she (as well as the spectators in the room) eyed him with suspicion and confusion. "My Lady Mary!" He cried yet again, and moved to kiss her hand, which he had done in quick succession. Mary discreetly wiped her hand down her covers when he had finally let go, as his fingers left ghosts of prints. "How very happy I am to finally see you awake and looking much healthier than previous. I was impatient to see you, so I made my way down as soon as I heard the news!" He confided to her. Silence befell the room as the King's observant eyes darted across Mary's placid facade. In a state of impulsiveness, he leant forward and cupped her face, pulling her to him. She saw from the corner of her eyes that both Anthony and Richard had reacted, springing forward as the King pressed a small kiss to both her cheeks.

She felt… a feeling of revulsion at his touch, how could she not? This was not a normal behaviour of the King towards her, this was most usually reserved for her sister! Mary felt her eyes widen as the King pulled back, allowing her a view of her open door, to find her sister there, watching her with with eyes that looked shattered at what she had witnessed.

Her sharp steps echoed within the room, causing the King to turn to the source of them. "Edward?" Mary heard Lizzie say. "What are you doing?"

"I am merely greeting my sister-in-law." The King replied innocently. "Am I forbidden to do such a thing?"

"Brother-" Richard whispered in his dark tones, his darker gaze focused upon the King. "Your conduct suggests otherwise."

"As long as you remember that Mary is your sister-in-law and nothing more." Anthony growled. Mary looked up to find her elder sister restraining her brother with her arm as he struggled to get to his own brother-in-law.

The silence that followed was charged with heavy, unbidden tension filled with ragged breaths, expelling anger. "Edward?" Lizzie's voice infiltrated, permeated the thick cloud and acted as the soothing remedy to the men's temper. "I suggest that you should leave now before any kind of rumours are borne from this instance, before any reputations are to be spoiled."

The chair that the King had been sitting on scraped painfully against the floor in his anger, his footsteps an echoing reminder of the painful display that her sister had to witness, the infidelitous nature of her husband that lurked beneath his faithful facade. Mary felt the burning, unforgiving gaze of her sister scorch into her very conscience before leaving the room to confront her husband, leaving her to deal with two of the most important men in her life: her brother and her best friend.

But in her moment of need, her brother had abandoned her, leaving her feeling more alone than ever. This abandonment, this betrayal gave her such pain that it forced tears out of her eyes, leaving them to run out in the open. Her body began to shudder as sobs had begun to take place and she sought for comfort in Richard's arms, as he wrapped them tenderly around her and kissed her forehead; she weeped until she could no longer.


A few weeks later…

"No, Richard! I don't want to go there, I want to go to your sitting room."

Mary wobbled forward, leaning against Richard in an effort to walk to a slow path of recovery. Appearing to be healthier with rufescent cheeks, she seemed to be recovering from her attempted poisoning. She laughed aloud at herself when she stumbled upon a rock as the weather became windier, wilder in its strength. Nobles walked past them, nodding at both herself and Richard in acknowledgement of their presence.

The woolen dress Mary wore kept her warm in her pursuit of arriving at Richard's sitting room, which had been the nearest warmest place Mary could think of as the weather was getting colder as the season of Christmas was rapidly approaching. "See, we are almost there!" Mary sighed in happiness as she caught sight of the entrance to his sitting room. "At last, a place in which I can put up my feet."

Richard stopped them abruptly, a smile growing upon his face. "Who says you are going to put your feet up then?" He arched his eyebrows at her, daring her to challenge him. "Who says you can't do it now?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Mary asked, looking to him with eyebrows pleated together in utter confusion.

"I meant this!" And he swept her off her feet, earning a surprised squeal from her.

"Richard! Put me down this instant!" Mary demanded, but could not wholly keep her voice commanding as the whole situation amused her. He carried her in quick succession and with such ease, as if she were a mere garment, light and unmoving. But, unfortunately for Mary, she knew she was neither.

"Richard! I demand that you put me down!" She ordered once more. "You will hurt yourself and then the court physician will have two troublesome patients upon his hands rather than the one." She argued, but it was to no avail.

"My deepest apologies, dearest Mary, that I have thought of your well-being instead of my own." He remarked sarcastically, as they neared the entrance of his receiving room, only a few more steps away.

"How very touching, yet my thanks, dear sir, that you should think of me more than yourself." Mary said, reciprocating the sarcasm he presented before her. "Take care, or many may start to believe His Grace to be in love with me." She teased, oblivious to the effect it had upon him, as a light blush coloured his cheeks.

When they had arrived, he let her down to lean against the cold, stone walls as he opened the heavy wooden entrance, to reveal a warm chamber with proper chairs that made Mary almost cry with joy, as she could only sit upon cold, marble benches the whole morning. The crackle of the fireplace coaxed a sigh out of her, leaving Richard to be entertained by the whole scenario. He moved to carry her in the room and carefully set her down against the wooden chair (made soft by a few cushions) that was closest to the fire. He pulled up a chair and positioned it beside her; but before he could sit down, he took up some furs and poured a glass of water for Mary to drink. Draping the furs generously over her, he made sure that she was properly covered before giving her the glass of water to sip upon.

When Mary had accepted the glass of water from him, Richard moved across the room, towards a dark mahogany cabinet. He opened it and took out a wicker basket, containing Mary's sewing articles and brought it to rest close to her feet. As he did so, he could feel Mary's gaze resting curiously upon him. Upon second thought, Richard decided that he would engage himself instead with some work, as much required his attention and he had not done anything to relieve himself of the burden. As he was setting it down and walking away, she asked him, "How did you know that I was going to ask for it?"

Richard shrugged nonchalantly. "I had just known you had wanted it. We both know that a restless Mary is terrible company." He had said as he walked to his writing desk.

She smiled at that, knowing his words to be true. "So then," she started to say. "What are you going to be doing in the meantime, while I finish sewing these shirts for the poor?"

"I will be finishing my negotiations as well as send letters to the overseers of my lands, in anticipation of the winter. It is not as if my brother will be the one providing for them. As a matter of fact, I think he will be the one looting from them." Richard announced to her, almost bitterly, as he sat down. He looked out to the window, where the landscape was darker than what a September day should look like: skies tinted with monochromic shades of melancholia. "I fear that this coming year will bring many unseen tragedies." He whispered forebodingly, his expression bordering on disquiet and terrified.

But Mary had not seen it, nor heard his quiet declaration. "Richard, I am almost well." Mary said conversationally, as she continued stitching the garments and he tried to write with so much on his mind. "Do you think I will be able to talk to my assassinator?" She asked, her tone almost bland in her fear of being rejected this simple request.

The scratchings of Richard's quill stopped abruptly. "Why would you want to do that?" He queried, quietly flabbergasted by her question.

"Because I want to know what drove them to do such a thing." Mary answered.

"Yes, then whatever madness drove to do that would most likely drive them to kill you in their cell!" Richard cried, dropping his quill in his passionate outburst. "Don't you see, Mary? Your plan of interrogating them could go into a vicious circle that we would have no idea how it started. Your death-" he spat the word out, as if it terrified him so much that he could not keep it in his mouth a moment longer, "-would mean nothing then, just an unsolvable mystery."

"If it should come to that, then it will." Mary said decisively, an aura of calmness radiated from her. "But, I doubt that you have gotten any proper answers out of them yet, have you?" Richard's silence was answer enough to her. "Very well, when will I be able to visit them?"

"Do not think we will reach a resolution on this matter that quickly. Especially one that could damage any part of you, even if it is not seen." Richard warned. "If word of this gets out, it could ruin your reputation."

Mary laughed aloud, a laugh that carried tones of irony, sending shivers down Richard's spine. "Reputation? What reputation? If I am to marry, a respectable gentleman will not be one that mother and Lizzie will choose. I certainly doubt it, they will most probably try to marry me off to a gentleman who lives far away from here, so that they may not have to see me anymore, and neither will the King."

"Then, your safety could be breached." Richard argued. "You could catch a sickness from them or they could try to physically harm you within the cell."

"And that is why you are going to be there, dearest Richard, to watch over me like my guardian angel." Mary said sweetly at him, making him feel as if he has no choice but to accept defeat.

He scowled, visibly displeased by the notion of allowing Mary to approach her assassinator. And she would not be persuaded otherwise. Stubborn girl! Richard thought angrily to himself. The fire crackled on as the room was charged with uncomfortable tension, yet still the silence endured as Richard argued with himself and Mary waited, her stomach twisting in anticipation.

Moments passed as Mary halfheartedly tried to continue her sewing, her fingers fumbling to get a decent stitch as she awaited Richard's decision.

"Mary?" Richard whispered. She whipped her head up from her work and looked to Richard with a blank face, to hide the feeling of excitement and anticipation from him. But she should have known, Richard had been her bosom friend for a while.

He smirked at her, amused by her attempts to hide her true feelings from him when it was so clearly being reflected in her eyes. "I shall allow it, this visit of yours."

A gasp of surprise escaped her once tightly-sealed lips, but then released her needle in quick succession to cover and contain the giggles which had begun to escape her. Richard stood and made his way to her side. "But," He held his hand up to regain her attentions. "I will only indulge this visit of yours on the condition that you are to be guarded at all times and that you will tour the lands that my dukedom entails with me the next summer. Is that agreed?" Richard knelt next to Mary's chair, his eyes locked with hers, pleading for her to accept them.

A smile had crept upon Mary's face as Richard had stated his terms. They are easy enough to follow, thought Mary. She nodded. "Very well, Richard. I accept your terms, only that you keep to your word." Mary agreed, unable to keep the smile from her face.

"I vow to keep my promise, then." Richard replied, also unable to keep a grin from appearing on his face.

Within a few moments, Mary cried out in elation and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you for this, you will not regret it." Mary vowed.

With her arms embracing him in her state of felicity, she did not hear Richard's soft whisper into her cascading waves of gold: "I hope not, my dearest Mary."


A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed that! I am so, so sorry for the late update; it's been more than a month since I had. It's just been so busy here, with productions and everything I barely had time to process things. I will try to update quicker, but I can't guarantee it since exam season is coming up.

Remember, I really like constructive feedback, so please review! Until next time, Nemo xoxo