Falconmaster

Part 2- War of the White Rose

Chapter 10- Vengeance

Author's Note: Hello all! Thank you so much for your patience! Unfortunately, there was a family emergency that pulled me away to London and I couldn't write much. This was a difficult chapter to write, and it went somewhat differently from what I initially had in mind.

A little recap: The Doctor and Clara realised that Henry Tudor had a ghost Time Lord called Macabrius living inside him, pulling his strings. Macabrius/Tudor captured Thomas Grey and injured James Harrington, while Clara and the Doctor managed to escape with James just in time.

Meanwhile, Stanley exposed to Richard that there is no such thing as the County of Gallifrey or a Damehood given to any Oswald during the reign of Edward IV or even Henry VI. Richard commands Brackenbury to arrest Clara and the Doctor and bring them for questioning.

Anon, if you log in and go to your Account Settings you can enable PMs from there.

DolphinMelody there is a tribute character for you in here! Also, Tenth features if you squint hard enough.

Please read and review! ;)

"Clara, reach into the console- get me a phial of golden stuff!" the Doctor ordered.

Clara didn't need telling twice; she had to hold on to the rails to avoid being thrown off her feet. Her nerves fought against her reserve, but she strove on and reached the compartment under the console. She took the phial that glowed, their beacon of hope, and gave it to the Doctor, who knelt over James Harrington.

The knight had a blackened hole where his heart should have been and his skin burned with the fire that had struck him. Sweat poured endlessly from his face, as his breathing became visibly more laboured.

"Here hold his head, by his temple, just like that," the Doctor ordered. Clara silently complied, feeling James' blood pulse fiercely, trying to keep him above the surface of death.

"These nanogenes will heal him, but they need a template to copy from," the Doctor explained pouring the golden molecules on the knight. Immediately they covered him, like a river flowing into an empty ravine, extending on to the base of Clara's palms. Her hands began to feel a heavy vibration that began heating her hands even more, emitting a sharp tremor of energy within her. She was about to cry out, but the feeling subsided as quickly as it came.

James Harrington gave a gasp of relief and twitched, before his breathing resumed at a steady pace. The wound on his chest began to heal and a golden circle rested upon it.

"He's safe?" Clara whispered, daring to hope.

"He is," the Doctor answered. "All he needs now is rest. Help me carry him?"

They gently lifted him up, before shifting him into one of the rooms in the TARDIS, laying him on the bed and covering him with the grey covers. To the ignorant, James Harrington looked like he was just resting after a normal days work.

"What was that?" Clara asked the Doctor, once they were back in the console room. The doors lay open and the Doctor was intently gazing into the midnight darkness of the galaxies that homed the stars that glowed and burned and fell towards planets with enough gravitational power.

"Who exactly is Ares Macabrius?"

The Doctor sighed. He walked over to where he kept their kettle and brewed tea for them both, before sitting on the steps. They both sipped before he began.

"Macabrius was an old Time Lord; he lived many thousands of years before my parents were born. At one point I believed, and there were some of my people who did believe, that he was a story made to frighten children into obedience.

"His infant son caught a terrible virus- the Volcane, and the Time Lords decided that all those infected needed to be quarantined and cured. Something happened though, maybe the medics were negligent or it was a failure of technology, or the fact that the virus was incurable, but they all died. Macabrius begged for these Cryastium to be able to raise his dead, but the Time Lords refused, saying that it would be too dangerous to play God. The Admiral even told him that these Cryastium would not give him what he wanted. They had been declared a failed project by the Time Lords, they were too dangerous to be used like we had seen in Chester. But perhaps they were useful enough to commune with the spirits of the other side if needed.

"Macabrius would have none of that, he declared war and tried to steal the Cryastium himself. He burned countries and raised armies to do his bidding. He managed to steal a few crystals but realised that the Admiral was right, he could not bring his son back. But by that time he was declared an enemy of Gallifrey who billions were terrified of, it was too late to turn back, so his new goal was to reign supreme- if the crystals could not give his son back, then perhaps they could give him an army and give him power, so nothing like this could happen again.

"At the Siege of Karkane, the Admiral defeated Macabrius, but failed to apprehend him, possibly because he was moved by pity. But Macabrius vanished, never to be seen again. He swore a vow to make his enemies suffer; legend is that he transcended into conscious matter and wanders the galaxies, latching on to the bodies of the ambitious and greedy."

"So that man wasn't Henry Tudor?" Clara asked.

"His body was, and to a certain extent his mind and actions were," the Doctor said. "Macabrius has to somewhat mirror the heart of his host and be accepted by them in the first place- he makes very tempting promises and if there is enough ambition inside a man, he will find it difficult to say no."

Clara frowned, this did not seem right. "Why would anyone let him in? Why would anyone want to be his puppet?"

The Doctor laughed. "He's devious and manipulative, he knows which triggers to push, pull and leave well alone. He is the equivalent of a professional magician- lots of very impressive tricks, but what you have to remember, Clara Oswald, is that that's all they are: an illusion of tricks and half truths."

There was a heavy plea in his eyes, and for one moment Clara thought that he was beseeching especially to her, trying to counsel and warn her.

"Rejecting him is both emotionally and physically painful, depending on how close you've let him come to your soul, " the Doctor continued. "You need a certain amount of purity in your heart. Between you and me, Clara, I don't trust myself to be able to."

"If anyone can resist him, Doctor, it's you," Clara said gently, placing a hand on his forearm. The Doctor was silent.

"What are we going to tell Richard?" Clara pondered.

"The truth," the Doctor replied. "That Tudor, as a puppet of Macabrius, rejected the treaty, kidnapped Thomas Grey, almost killed Sir James and is coming to England to fight you. By the way, he's a five thousand year old alien with alien technology, and he shares my heritage."

Under any other circumstances Clara would have burst into laughter, but right now she barely chuckled, despite trying to. She took a very deep breath, her heart beating with anticipation. A pit of dread grew in her stomach; after a long moment, the Doctor's arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her into a comforting hug.

"I know you're scared, Clara," the Doctor consoled. "But I promise you, everything will be OK."

Clara turned up to look at him, her eyes seeing the powerful sincerity in his pupils. She forced a smile. "I hope so."

"Right, so shall we head back?" the Doctor chirped, standing up.

"What about James?" Clara asked.

"Don't worry about him, he'll be up soon! We have loads to tell when we return, and no doubt Richard and his Court will have so much to sink in. I was hoping for a more cordial settlement, but at least we know what we're dealing with." His expression gravened. "You know what this means, don't you Clara?"

"It means war is coming," Clara replied just as gravely.

"Yes, unfortunately... but enough about that, shut the door!" The Doctor ordered. He pushed some levers on the console of the TARDIS. Suddenly, Clara braced herself as the time machine began spinning and jostling through the Vortex. It landed with a clean bump.

Even without looking out, the foreboding silence told her that they were back in Westminster. They carried James Harrington out and lay him in the bed of the Doctor's chambers. They called some of the grooms to give them orders that James was not to be disturbed and allowed to recuperate.

As soon as they had stepped out of the chambers and into the hallway, they walked in silence through the Western Courtyard to reach the Great Hall. The clock tower chimed in a long and heavy tone and the clouds gathered over them, as if to spectate over a fight.

Across the courtyard, five men at arms clad in helmets and silver chain mail approached them, spears at the ready. They were led unmistakably by Sir Robert Brackenbury.

"Halt!" he ordered. The blood in Clara's veins froze.

"Brackenbury, it's us, we need to see the King, we have important news for him!" the Doctor told him. The guard had surrounded the time travellers by forming a ring around them.

"Where is Sir James?" Brackenbury demanded. "And the Marquess of Dorset?"

"Sir James is in recovery," Clara said cautiously. "He was injured, and Thomas Grey has been captured." A spurt of boldness overcame her fear. "Sir Robert, do you want to tell us what's going on?"

"I have my orders, Lady Clara and my Lord Gallifrey," Brackenbury responded tersely. "I am to arrest you both for treason, and bring you before His Grace for questioning. Sieze them!"

The Great Hall was tense and full of people speaking in a hushed voice. At the head a table of three judges- William Catesby, John Howard and Thomas Stanley- overlooked them all. Beside them, King Richard III was dressed in black, from his infamous felt hat, to his doublet and robes. There was only an embossed chain of yellow stitched around the shoulders.

The two prisoners were escorted into the middle of the hall and Clara felt naked with all eyes burning into her, their voices whispering and gossiping about the supposed crime of her and the Doctor's. She could not look at Francis Lovell, Robert Harrington, Bess, Cecily or even Richard for the matter. A deep pit in her belly told her why she and the Doctor were here. She looked into his eyes, which silently twinkled and he nodded with a discreet smile.

She returned half a smile, breathing with relief. Perhaps the Doctor had a plan- a plan that would get them out of this mess.

The pair were settled into two wooden chairs, where they were directly made to face the King and his bench. Brackenbury and his men bowed and took leave with a nod from the King.

When the King spoke, his voice was cold but there was some anger present too. "I invited both of you into my Court, I entrusted you with the lives of some of my finest men. Now I find that you have been lying, lying about who you are. I would advise you not to lie again, because you do not know how much I already know. So, firstly, I ask you this: who are you?"

Clara opened her mouth, her lungs grasping for the air necessary to explain herself, but the words refused to come. Luckily, the Doctor had an answer prepared.

"I will tell you who we are, your Grace, and I will explain everything to you, because right now there is a lot that you have to understand. I am the Doctor, it's the name I chose when I took my vow."

"Which vow would that be?" Howard asked.

"Never cruel, never cowardly," the Doctor recited. "Never give up, never give in."

Clara turned inquisitively towards the Doctor; he had never talked to her about any vow he had taken.

"Your Grace will remember when he was young, newly made ward of the Ear of Warwick," the Doctor continued. "You were lost in the Yorkshire Moors, because your horse just ran away, and it was getting dark."

"Yes, I remember," Richard said tersely. "What of it? How does it explain who you are?"

"You better not play any games," Stanley reprimanded. "Remember this is no game, we have the authority to have you hanged."

Clara took a deep breath, but clenched her fists at Stanley discreetly. She hoped her fear didn't show, but it dawned on her that if they were outed it had to have involved Stanley in some way or another.

"You were approached by a tall brown haired man, who had a strange stripy doublet," the Doctor continued unfazed. "He offered you a ride back to Middleham Castle, you talked about many things, you even told him that he reminded you of your brother Edmund."

Richard's posture changed swiftly, he bolted up attentively glaring at the Doctor. But the whole hall, even Clara, was surprised.

"You have some cheek in mocking the King like that!" Stanley spat, but Richard waved him down.

"What else?"

The Doctor smiled warmly. "He told you that when you get lost again remember who you are, who you were, where you've been, what lessons you've learned and you will always find your back to where you're meant to be. That's not just for when you're physically lost, Dickon, he said."

Richard rose from his seat and marched towards the Doctor, his heavy boots striking the floor. "How... did you know that? How could you know that?" he hissed.

"Because that was me," the Doctor answered. "I am from Gallifrey, but it's not a county. It's a planet and I am a Time Lord, when I die I regenerate and I change."

"Witchcraft!" a spectator gasped. A round of cursing and shouting began, before Richard raised a hand to silence them all.

"It's not witchcraft. It's biological fact!" the Doctor corrected. "Right now, a five thousand year old Time Lord, called Macabrius, sits in the body of Henry Tudor and he wants your throne. He rejected your offer, he captured Thomas Grey, injured James Harrington- who we've managed to save. Macabrius or Tudor, or whatever you want to call him, is gathering an army to invade." He explained exactly how James and Grey had been overpowered and how their guard murdered.

Richard frowned grimly and took a step back before exhaling. "And what about you, Clara, who are you?"

"She's just a girl-" the Doctor began.

"I asked Clara, not you!" Richard snapped.

There was a dark look in his eyes that made Clara's throat go as dry as a desert. She swallowed and explained. " My name is Clara Oswald, I was born in the year 1989. I'm just someone who's graduated from university, your Grace."

"A woman at a university?" Stanley laughed, followed by dozens of men. Howard shot him a serious glare and Catesby just stared blankly.

"From when I come from yes!" Clara said defiantly. "I was helping out child minding for a friend called Angela Maitland, who died, so I chose to help her family out. That's when I met the Doctor. We travel sometimes in time and space, that's all. We were going to a tennis match between the Universities of York and Lancaster but we were brought here by our... vessel, because Bess needed our help.

"I'm sorry we lied about our rank or peerage, but we honestly don't care about these things, they mean nothing where I'm from!" Clara implored, looking at Richard, then Bess (who was sat in the gallery), before looking at John Howard- the only judge who seemed to be interested in what they were saying. "We don't want the Crown, titles or lands and we certainly aren't going to betray our friends because someone promises us more lands or prestige! Or because we simply think that's the way the wind is blowing!" Clara directed her eyes straight at Thomas Stanley and watched as his smirk disappeared into the depths of his face. He shot back to lean in his chair, as if stung by a bee. She couldn't help but feel proud at what had happened; she had spent some time reading up on him. She knew exactly what he was and how he functioned, how he would appear to serve all who were powerful but only when victory seemed likely for them would Stanley ever commit himself. In short, she enjoyed seeing him fidget uncomfortably, and he could not confront her without giving more attention and validity to her indirect accusation.

"So you are from the future?" Richard asked.

"Yes, your Grace."

"So tell me," Richard probed, his lips curled up to one side. "Does this war ever end? Who wins?"

Clara's heart began racing. She knew what happened at Bosworth.

"You'll never be able to trust any answer she gives," the Doctor came to her aid. "Anything other than saying that your Grace wins is treason under the law."

Richard laughed. "Yes, I suppose that was a bad question. Is there anything else you would like to add?" This time his expression hardened.

"No, your Grace," Clara said quietly.

"Then perhaps the bench may retire for their decision?" Richard suggested. The bench rose to their feet. Just then, the doors flew open.

"Go Sir, you're not well!" Brackenbury urged. People were gossiping in hushed voices, which grew louder as people realised who had come.

"James?" Robert exclaimed.

James Harrington was still in his nightshirt and had thrown on some breeches in a hurry, his hair was unkept and his sweat flowing heavy.

"My God, James!" Richard hurried over.

James dropped to his knees. "Your Grace, I beg you, these people are not your enemies, they saved my life. You have a more dangerous enemy in France!"

"I know, James," Richard muttered back, kneeling to hold his shoulders.

"You know?"

"Yes, they told me."

"T-then you c-can't, I mean shouldn't, execute them!" James pleaded.

"Lying to the King is treason, Harrington!" Stanley shouted. "They know too much about us!" He looked at Howard before his eyes rested on Catesby. "What do you think, Lord Chancellor?"

"I think... technically they are guilty of treason... subject to the King's mercy," Catesby said bashfully.

"They lied about their rank and nothing else," Howard said slightly annoyed. "That's hardly as bad as any type of treason any King in the history of our nation has seen."

"There'll be no need for the King's mercy," Richard said. "Doctor, get on your knee."

The Doctor slowly rose from his chair. "Your Grace, I am truly sorry for our deception, it was my doing not Clara's, let us help you fight-"

"Be quiet, Doctor!"

Clara watched in anxiety as the Doctor knelt and Richard drew his sword, to the dismay of many. Before they could even complete their gasp, the sword tapped the Doctor swiftly on the shoulders with the flat side.

"Arise, Sir Doctor, Knight of the Garter," Richard declared with a touch of impatience. "Earl of Gallifrey!"

The Doctor rose slowly as the hall descended into nervous laughter followed by a light applause.

"Your Grace, shouldn't there be vigil ceremony?" the Doctor asked.

"Normally yes, but I have more important matters to attend to," Richard answered. He lowered his voice. "Do not waste my time or risk your life by lying to me again, do you understand?"

"Yes, your Grace," the Doctor said. "I am happy to be of service."

"Clara, I will restore your peerage for real by the morrow," Richard said casually, before moving towards her and looking into her brown eyes with his blinking grey. The pupils dilated like moons and reflected something in them. "Look at me, listen to me, Clara. Never put me in that position again, I have had too many people betray me as easily as they eat and drink. For the first time in years, I was considering sending a woman to the block. Don't put me in that position again."

Clara nodded solemnly, but noted that there was no threat in Richard's voice at all. It seemed more like a plea; suddenly, she flushed with regret. "I won't, I promise."

"Good," Richard smiled weakly, stepping away from where she and the Doctor was sat. "We'll adjourn for a while."

Abruptly he left the hall, after a few moments Francis Lovell made to follow after giving the Doctor and Clara a sympathetic smile. The people began to disperse, some disappointed at the fact that no heads would roll today. The Doctor and Clara were largely ignored as dozens of people spilled out and milled past them.

Clara mouthed a thanks to John Howard, who smiled and politely waved that it was no matter. Her attention turned to Sir James, who seemed more pleased than she was.

"James, are you all right?"

"I am fine, really," James said, although he looked ripe with fever. The Doctor wasted no time in telling him so.

"My friend, what you need is tonnes of bed rest. Yes, that and a rich infusion of semi-nanogenes and herbal goodness!

"Warm cups of tea!" he explained, seeing their blank expressions, to which they nodded. At this point Robert arrived, thanking them for saving James and ordered his brother to be escorted to his chambers for much needed rest.

"That really was scary, wasn't it?" Bess grinned nervously, when she approached them with Cecily by her side. "Did you really fight off a group of Tudor soldiers?"

"With a chair?" Cecily added.

"Well, the chair broke but I used a spear, and it was only until our ship arrived to save us," Clara whispered bashfully. "Which wasn't very long, it was over in a minute."

"Still, that must have been terrifying and very brave of you to attempt?" a foreign sounding voice asked. They turned to see a dark haired and olive skinned girl in a green corset dress. Her hair was tied back in a bun and there was a golden chain around her neck. She smiled at them warmly. Clara thought that they had met before, but her mind couldn't place when and where.

"Donatella Meduro, my Ladies," she curtsied. "I am here with my father, Arturo Meduro- the Ambassador of Portugal." She nodded towards a half-bald portly man in a yellow doublet. His remaining hair was grey and he carried an elaborate black walking cane, while chatting to John Howard and Jack de la Pole.

"Welcome to England," Bess said.

"Why thank you, your Grace," Donatella returned.

"Bess, please," the Princess urged. "Will you share dinner with us, Senhorita Meduro? They shoule be serving in the next hall soon?"

"Donatella, please. It would be my pleasure!"

The other hall was filled with the aroma of meat, vegetables and cheese. Clara helped herself to what looked like carrot stew. It was tasty enough.

"It must have taken a lot of courage to fight off those soldiers, no?" Donatella continued. "May I ask from where you learned that?"

Clara blushed. "I'm no soldier, Donatella."

"There are many types of courage, are there not?" Donatella interjected. "Sometimes standing up to someone bigger and supposedly stronger than you is one of them. And you have shown it many times."

"Thanks, but how do you know?" Clara probed. "You've never met me before."

"Not properly but I have seen you." Her revelation surprised Clara, Cecily and Bess.

"Really, when? And where?"

Donatella smiled coyly. "Let's just say, while I assist my father in his work as Ambassador, I also hone in on other hobbies. I am an amateur chronicler, a not too bad painter... and I play the banjo."

Clara's eyes widened after a few moments, it hit her like an avalanche. "You're Banjo girl? The one at that Inn?"

Donatella nodded. "Yes, I occasionally blend in around smallfolk."

"Why?" Cecily asked.

"I find people interesting, it helps me to see them when they are at ease, under pressure and in cups."

"And is that why you and your father are here?" Clara asked.

"No, I am here to help negotiate a potential marriage or two," Donatella said.

Bess sighed and looked away.

"Between the King and our Princess Joanna, and between Prince Manuel and your Princess Elizabeth," Donatella motioned to Bess.

"You're not happy?" Clara asked.

"I don't know," Bess murmured. "I suppose I am still getting used to the idea."

"There's no rush, Father says," Donatella smiled. "Prince Manuel is a good man, and heir to the Throne of Portugal."

"I suppose so," Bess nodded weakly.

Clara gave her friend a sympathetic smile but before she could follow through with words, she heard shouting coming from the Great Hall. She caught the Doctor grinning and motioned to her that they follow. They tracked the origin and found Lady Rivers shouting at Richard, while Francis and Ratcliffe were trying to pacify her, but she was angrily pushing them away.

"Tudor has my son! He HAS MY SON! And you're just sat here doing nothing!"

"No, Elizabeth I assure you, we are definitely doing something," Richard said coldly.

"And what may that be?"

"We now know that Tudor is planning to invade soon, so we will issue a call for arms soon."

"What? No, I meant about Thomas Grey!" Lady Rivers screamed, her voice echoing across the palace. Clara distinctly heard the chatter die down in the other hall.

"He was in your care, Richard!" Lady Rivers continued.

Richard inhaled and rolled his eyes, getting a sympathetic look from Francis and Ratcliffe. "Actually, he was a grown man and never in my safekeeping."

"Yes, well that is what happens whenever someone is trusted to you, isn't it?" Lady Rivers snarled.

Richard glared at her and his breathing increased rapidly. There was a pause and no words escaped him. How could she say that?

"Madame, that was uncalled for!" Francis chastised. "Why don't you come with me and we can-?"

"Get your hands off of me, you dog!" Lady Rivers spat.

"Mama, what are you doing?" Bess exclaimed, arriving on to the scene.

"This man...!" Lady Rivers pointed at Richard. "Has let your brother Thomas fall prisoner to Tudor!"

"No Mama, it was completely unexpected!" Bess defended frantically.

"How dare you!" Her voice was icy and capable of melting the valor of the fiercest of warriors. "You are an utter disgrace, how dare you betray your brother!" She moved towards Bess as if to grab hold of her. Clara immediately pushed Bess behind her and prepared to fight this woman if need be. At first she had seemed like a normal and caring mother, who was rightly concerned about her daughter's bad dreams. Now Clara was hating her, how dare she come into the King's Court and humiliate Bess like that?

But before Clara or Lady Rivers could do anything to each other, to everyone's surprise, Richard grabbed the older woman's hand in a vice like grip and shoved her, causing her to stumble back in shock and almost fall over.

"Clara, take Bess back to the other hall and stay there. Now!" Richard commanded tersely.

Clara escorted her trembling friend back; however, they lingered at the doors.

"He is my son!" Lady Rivers rasped. "I want you to offer Tudor any ransom-!"

"There will be no ransom," Richard said.

"What? How can you...? Tudor will kill him!"

"I will not pay Henry Tudor money so he can come at my realm with a bigger army," Richard set out. "Let me make this plain to you, Elizabeth. If Tudor wishes to kill Thomas Grey in the hope of making me do something, he's welcome to try. Grey means nothing to me! Nothing!"

Lady Rivers began to weep. "Forgive me, your Grace, I meant no offence. He is my son, my own blood. I shall raise a ransom for him myself."

"No, you may not!" Richard snapped. Even Francis and Ratcliffe turned to face him suddenly.

"Bess, go now," Clara urged her friend out of the doors and shut them, but remained in the Great Hall.

"W-what?" Lady Rivers stammered. "Richard, please, my s-!"

"Save it, Elizabeth," Richard growled, his grey eyes burning with the darkness of his pupils. "You will pay Tudor nothing!"

The Doctor put a hand on his shoulder, as if to remind him of tact, but the King shook it off. When he spoke, his voice had a cold fury within it.

"You will return to your manor with an armed guard, and you will stay there until I see fit. You will not, and I mean will not, communicate with Tudor or negotiate anything with him. Or I will dare him to take off Thomas Grey's head! Do you understand?"

"Dickon!" Francis hissed, horrified.

Lady Rivers began sobbing endlessly and dropped to her knees. "Your Grace, mercy!"

"Brackenbury, Stanley," Richard addressed the two who had arrived. "Escort Lady Rivers back to her carriage and ensure that it returns to the Rivers Estate."

The men nodded, helping her up and leading her out.

"Wasn't that a little harsh?" Clara said. "Harsher than necessary?"

"No. It was as harsh as necessary," Richard said quietly, without even making eye contact. He began striding away but stopped abruptly in his tracks and turned to the Doctor and Clara, his expression pacifying somewhat.

"Tudor is now actually a Time Lord, who can expel fire from his hands, isn't he? That means I will need all the help I can get. In a few days I will send out calls for arms across the realm and prepare to defend it.

"I would like you to stand with me, both of you. Clara, you can assist the field medics, if it pleases you. Minstrels have already started singing songs of the courage of Clara Longspear." His eyes lit up with a smile. "Will you?"

Clara's words caught in her throat as she held her breath. Her heart weighed down with endless conflict, she was in a war that she had never envisaged. Now she was being asked to choose a side!

"Perhaps we can have some time, your Grace?" the Doctor came to her aid.

"Of course."

The Doctor led Clara up a flight of stairs where they found a chamber to talk.

"What are we supposed to do?" Clara beseeched. "This is a war that is part of established history, isn't it? If we declare for Richard we will definitely be on the losing side?"

The Doctor made no reply.

"Am I wrong, Doctor?" Clara demanded.

"No, you're not entirely," the Doctor replied. "In all the records of Gallifrey and of Earth there is never any mention of a Tudor Time Lord King, no sign of Macabrius doing half the things he would do if he took the throne." The Doctor frowned and walked over to a mirror, seeing his own laboured face.

Suddenly his eyes grew darker. "The thing is, some events are fixed in time, but Macabrius ruling England isn't one of them. Maybe history has already been changed, when Tudor decided to accept Macabrius into his soul. Maybe a Yorkist England is the lesser deviation. Maybe Richard is the one we can declare for!" He grinned and turned to face Clara, whose eyes looked heavy with doubts.

"What's wrong?"

"I-I don't know..." Clara stammered. "I just don't know if I should, or if I even want to commit myself to changing history... to fight for any side."

The Doctor smiled grimly and held her shoulders. "You have doubts, Clara? About who we would be serving, don't you?"

Clara nodded.

"Ask him," he whispered.

"Well?" Richard probed when the pair descended down the stairs.

Clara took a deep breath. "You know, your Grace, I have heard so many things about you before we met. Really vile things. But you turned out to be different, but I still don't know who you are. How can we serve someone who we don't know?

"I never thought that Richard could come so close to having me executed! I never thought that Richard could be so cold, callous and ruthless as you were to Lady Rivers!"

Richard sighed in silence, but Francis spoke up.

"My Lady, there are things about Elizabeth Woodville which you don't know."

"Even you thought threatening to dare the death of a mother's son was too much, Francis!" Clara pointed out coldly. "The truth is, Richard, I don't know you, I don't know who you are, what kind of a man you are... until I do, I can't serve you! I'm sorry."

The four men stared at her finality; for a moment Clara thought she had gone too far, but Richard let out a grim laugh.

"Perhaps you're right, you don't know me. I will try and remedy that but I doubt anything I say will actually make you or anyone know me," he said. "Why don't we come to my solar and I will answer any questions you have."

Clara let out a sigh of relief, following him, Francis, Ratcliffe and the Doctor to a solar on the ground floor. Sir James, Arturo and Donatella Meduro were already inside drinking and laughing at the far side of a rectangular table.

"Stay, Ambassador, stay," Richard waved them back down. He had a servant bring them all cups and a jugs of mead and boiled water in tea leaves. He seated himself towards the right of the nearside to the door, while the Doctor took the head. Clara and Francis sat on the left with Ratcliffe seating himself next to Richard.

Richard took a sip of mead. "So Clara, you have heard the rumours and want to know if they're true? You want to know whether I shed the blood of friends and sinned in taking my crown, whether I brought about the death of my dear wife Anne, and whether I killed my nephews, the Princes in the Tower?"

"Your Grace, perhaps I should escort the Ambassador and his daughter back to the-" James began.

"No, let them hear this!" Richard ordered.

"Yes," Clara murmured after taking a sip.

"Why do you ask me?" Richard said hoarsely.

"Because I want to know the truth!" Clara replied, almost indignantly.

"The whole truth?" Richard challenged.

"Yes please, your Grace."

Richard took a gulp this time. "The answer to all three is yes. I am guilty- guilty as charged!"

"What?" Clara uttered in unison with Francis, the Doctor and James. The Meduro's and Ratcliffe were at loss of words and frozen, absorbing what they had just heard.

Clara felt her skin pale and her heart beat faster. This was unreal; she had been expecting a denial or explanation, anything but this! She refused to believe it. It terrified her.

Legend had it that Richard was an ambitious and bloodthirsty usurper, a kin and wifeslayer, who only cared about himself and his glory. It couldn't all be true, yet Richard had confessed that it was.

"Your Grace, perhaps you are tired and should take the night off," Ratcliffe suggested quickly. The Doctor was sitting upright in his seat, looking to Francis for answers who just stared blankly in shock

Richard ignored him. "I thought you said you wanted to know the whole truth."

"Y-yes," Clara stammered. "W-why?" Her voice began to break.

"I will tell you why and how, and who I am," Richard's croaked. "My name is Richard Plantagenet- seventh son of Richard, Duke of York. This is the man I was and have become...

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Ricardians, please be patient! This isn't the whole truth, which we will know about in the next chapter which will be called "The Story of Dickon". How would you lot feel if I wrote the next chapter solely in the first person from Richard's point of view? I would then revert to the usual narrative from the chapter after the next.

The next chapter should be up quicker than usual, because I really want to tell Richard's story!

Dolphin Melody, I hope you like your tribute character

Please read and review