Love and War Chapter 11
Summary: Henry's persistence at earning Catherine's trust is causing her to lose sleep—and not for pleasant reasons.
Rating: T (Warning-references of Catherine's time in Florence as a young girl. Not too graphic—but still, better safe than sorry!)
Disclaimer: I do not own "Reign".
AN: So, because i'm awful at balancing the many demands of my life-I must apologize immensely for not posting sooner! I will appease with hot, steamy, chapters ahead! CHEERS 3
Forceful, ungentle, hands assaulted her body. Harsh, disgusting, words were thrown like daggers into her soul. Yet another one of the soldiers was having his way with her almost lifeless body. She couldn't take anymore. Her vague attempts at fighting them off had only been met with that sickening laughter. She was but a child. Her attempts were futile at best.
"Hold still you rich little brat!"
She struggled to let out a scream-no sound escaped. She could no longer gain air into her lungs. Hot tears began to pour from her eyes, God help me—he's killing me, she thought to herself.
"NO!" She kicked frantically.
Catherine! She heard her name being called.
That voice-I know that voice, but I do not know this man. She struggled against his strong hold on her small frame. His grip on her wrists made them feel as though they were made of ash and would disintegrate beneath the forcefulness of his hold on them.
"Please, stop!" She hated that sound, the sound of her own helpless voice begging for mercy. Even at this age, she held great strength and pride. Both were being ripped away from her violently. With the distant calling of her name, the man's face seemed to dissolve right in front of her. Another face began to replace her assailant-Henry.
"Catherine, wake up! It's me!"
Her lungs struggled for air. Even though her eyes were open and wild with fear, she had not yet processed the fact that the man clutching her was not trying to harm her. The chords in her neck strained. Henry realized she wasn't breathing though her eyes were open. Shock registered on his face as he shook her slightly, fearing suddenly that she'd pass out.
"Catherine! Catherine-BREATHE!"
She struggled against him, pushing his hands from her body and scrambling a safe distance away. The moment she gained space from his hold on her, air came flooding back into her lungs. She welcomed generous gulps of oxygen into her body. Her chest heaved; sweat drenched her flesh causing the gauzy fabric of her nightgown to stick to her like wet paper. With her back against the headboard, she tried to calm her nerves. Her eyes cut to Henry's. Oh—those eyes. He was looking at her with a more than pained expression on his face. She held the resemblance of a wounded animal. Worry was etching Henry's features. He stayed glued to his spot opposite from her on her bed, trying to process the ugly events that had just unfolded in front of him.
He could hear her lungs laboring. Every muscle in her body was clenched tightly. It had been nearly ten years since his Catherine had one of these awful nightmares. It always began the same. She would become restless in her sleep, tossing and turning, and then begin to speak strings of broken Italian. It would be soft at first, then crescendo into gut wrenching screams. She would become tangled in sheets, fighting off an invisible being. When she would wake, it always took a few moments for her to realize her surroundings. He waited for the next part. Like clockwork he saw it happen. The look on her face changed swiftly as the bile rose from her stomach in a rush. She stood from the bed and with lighting speed ran towards her chamber pot. She began to retch the contents of her stomach. Henry ached to go to her—to hold her hair away from her beautiful face that was stained with painful tears. However, he knew well enough by now she would let him nowhere near her, at least for the next few minutes. As she continued her torrential heaving, he went to her wardrobe to grab a new nightgown.
Catherine closed her eyes, sitting back with her legs tucked underneath her and wiping the sweat from her forehead. She allowed her head to lull back against the wall. Her breath was finally calming. She peered from heavy eyelids at her husband as he clutched the fabric of a clean nightgown; suddenly she felt the wet cold of her clothing against her heated flesh. She shuddered. He stood over her and she couldn't look him in the eye. She hated how dirty she felt after these dreams. It solidified the idea, at least to her, that she was incapable of a normal life—much less being loved.
"Can you stand?"
She nodded her head slightly, keeping her eyes downcast. He reached his hand out to her allowing her to decide if she wanted him to touch her or not. He remembered exactly how to approach her. Be present—but keep his distance; be patient and give her time. She hesitantly slid her hand into his allowing him to help her to stand. As she rose to an upright position, he steadied her as she seemed a bit uneasy still. He guided her back to the edge of the bed, "Sit." He said it gently, lightly grasping her shoulders to help still her shaking form.
"Raise your arms." Her eyes shot to his with a silent plea hidden in her hazel orbs. Her bottom lip began to tremble.
Henry silently scolded himself, you damned fool, any blithering idiot would know she wouldn't want to strip herself bare in front of a man at this moment and time. He nodded knowingly, his eyes silently offering apologies that she seemed to understand and he handed her the nightgown before turning his back to her.
Catherine slipped the wet nightgown off of her body, shivering from the permeating cold that pierced the room momentarily. She slipped the dry fabric over her, then reclined back on the bed before speaking, "You can turn around." Her voice was raw from screaming. Henry hated how torn apart she sounded. He hated seeing her like this. His strong, mercurial, seductively unpredictable, Medici wife was a hollow shell at this very moment. He turned back to her to see her haunted gaze looking at him.
"Might I sit?" He gestured to the bed beside her. She moved over slightly to allow him to sit beside her. As he sat he gathered her hands in his own, giving a sigh of relief when she didn't fight him. He knew it was probably too soon for questioning, and he risked having her wrath hurled toward him by doing so, but he had to know. Had this been happening often? If these terrible nightmares had been plaguing her often, he was partially frustrated with her for not confiding in him. However, a larger part of him was deeply angry at himself for allowing her to stray so far from him, and to have to endure such awful demons alone. He decided to question her in the most tactful way possible.
"What do you think caused this, Catherine?"
She shrugged, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly, "I don't know. I really don't. I haven't had a nightmare in almost ten years. " She sighed, her breath hitching slightly from her sobbing. Her head was pounding. Fatigue from strain settled into every fiber of her muscles. He was the only one who had ever seen her this way. Part of that gave her solace, but another part of that made her hate herself. She had started sleeping separately from him early on in their marriage to avoid such situations. They seemed to happen less frequently when he was wasn't lying right beside her. She had fooled herself into thinking that she would never have to face these situations again. How wrong she had been. Even though he was the one person she had unburdened herself towards, she had never truly dealt with the issues that tormented her soul. Henry had never discouraged her from speaking about her past, however he never openly discussed it either. Only at these times, in an unconscious state, did those times make such a violent appearance that they impacted not only her but anyone around her. That person had only ever been Henry. Richard and her had never shared a bed for more than the time it took to be intimate. The only man she'd ever allowed close enough to bare her soul to, was the one man who'd betrayed her, humiliated her, and ripped her fragile soul apart. It was sickeningly ironic that she was now allowing herself to be open to such turmoil, yet again.
Silence stretched between them. It was always hard for him to speak to her after these episodes, but he'd forgotten just how difficult. "Would you like for me to fetch a physician? Even Nostradamus?"
She shook her head. For Henry to suggest Nostradamus as a viable option to diagnose her "problem" was laughable. He hated the court seer. Again silence stretched before Catherine whispered almost inaudibly, "I'm sorry, Henry."
Henry dropped his head as he felt rage begin to build from his very core. He spoke forecfully allowing some of his unrestrained emotion to spill over the surface. "Don't, Catherine. Don't even start. You know how I loathe when you do that. We've been over this. Not one bit of this is your fault. When you will stop apologizing for something you had no control over?"
She pushed herself up further on the pillows, wincing slightly, feeling her body ache with the stress of her nightmare. She felt beaten and bruised. She gave him a small smile as she saw that anger leave him just as quickly as it had come. One word, "Habit."
He dropped his head nodding slightly. Walking towards her, he leaned into her slowly, "Do you want me to stay or leave?"
She smiled more fully, though the action did not reach her soul. She was hoping to deter him from becoming upset at what she was about to say, "I think I need some space for now." Henry nodded and kissed her forehead, the sweat finally beginning to dry into a sticky mess on her body. He turned to leave her with her thoughts.
"Henry?" She called to him quickly while sitting forward slightly. "How did you know—I mean-about-"
"Your guards burst in to help you when you began to scream in your sleep. Not wanting to risk making it worse, they came for me."
She nodded, "Thank you." She meant it. He had never allowed her to battle her demons alone. She only wished that he would allow her the same curtesy. Sadly, his demons were tucked away in a place she feared she would never reach.
He bowed his head slightly to his Queen before turning back towards his pathway out of her room. With the click of the door behind him, Catherine allowed herself to fall back into the welcoming softness of her bed.
What's happening to me? Why now? After ten years—this can't be a simple fluke. Something—or rather some ONE caused this to happen, but what's changed?
Allowing her mind to drift, she thought of Henry. The fear that she had witnessed within his gaze just moments ago pulled at her heart. She remembered the first time she'd had a nightmare after they were married. Henry had all but forced her to tell him the truth. He knew her. He knew that his Medici bride would hide behind her regal façade and not allow him to venture into her past. They'd talked all night. Henry listened—she let flow the ocean of secrets she'd hid from everyone.
Those times were over. He'd made her regret telling him her secrets many times in their rocky past together. Realization slammed into her, bringing with it a rush of clarity. That was what had changed-Henry.
Could it be? She thought to herself.
Could it really be that this new devotion her husband was showing her was causing her turmoil that went deeper than just her usually calm surface? It would make sense. The last time she and Henry were "close" the nightmares were a common occurrence. For them to return alongside her husband's attention seemed only logical. However, in the past when a nightmare plagued her sleep, Henry would curl himself around her body and hold her tightly against him until she found peace and would rest. Suddenly her bed felt too large; too cold; too empty. She suddenly found herself wanting the closeness of his skin and the smell of him to surround her.
She turned onto her side feeling her tired muscles scream in protest. She put the thought from her mind. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed herself to fall back into the oblivion of sleep. However, in the flash of her mind's eye the voices of the men who stole her innocence were waiting for her. The feeling of their hands on her body was too familiar. She tried in vain to keep her breathing even and calm though the images in her mind were sheer destruction to her resolve. For the better part of an hour she lie awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the fire pop and crackle through the silence of her room. She thought that simply staying awake all night would be the better option to a fitful rest, if that was even offered to her by the ghosts of her past. However, all too soon the spectres began to seep from the confines of her mind and whisper menacing words to her.
This won't do, she thought. In a rush of frustration she rose from her bed and donned her robe and a shawl to shield her from the cold dampness of the castle. Slowly, she shuffled out of her room seeing her guards stiffen slightly at sighting the queen. She turned to them,
"The king—did he return to his room?"
"Yes, Your Grace. He said that if you needed anything one of us should fetch him without hesitation. Would you like for us to summon the King, your majesty?"
She shook her head, "No thank you. I'm more than capable of summoning him myself."
The men bowed to her as she made her way down the corridor to the King's room. The usually short trip to Henry's chambers seemed to take an eternity. Thoughts began to pull at the corners of her calm exterior.
What shall I say?
What if he rejects me?
What if I can't stand him to be near me?
She found herself standing just outside of his door. Her gaze rested on the wood in front of her, as if she could will it to give her the answers to all of her uncertainties.. Henry's guards shuffled uncomfortably before one of them spoke.
"Your Majesty?" She turned to him, "Would you care for me to rouse the King?"
She smiled slightly at him and shook her head. Her thoughts won. She began to step backwards. This is ridiculous, she thought as she turned away quickly finding a speedy pace to remove her from the potentially uncomfortable situation she was suddenly terrified this encounter would be. She stopped dead in her tracks when she heard the door of his room open, then that voice.
"Catherine?" She closed her eyes, hearing her name falling from his lips. Would she ever tire of that sound?
She turned back towards him, "I'm sorry, did I wake you? I can leave, I just—"
He interrupted her by stepping out of his room cinching the tie of his robe around him firmly. His gaze held concern etched with fatigue. It was much too late for this she was certain, but she wouldn't be able to sleep without his presence. Why couldn't she just admit that to him? She knew why.
"No, my darling. Please—come in."
He placed his hand on the small of her back sending a small course of electricity through her body at the contact. Gesturing to his guards that he and his Queen were not to be disturbed for the duration of the night, he closed the door behind him. The guards gave each other a knowing smile as they stepped slightly away from the King's door.
AN: So sorry for the long delay in posting! Will be catching up very soon! Love to all! SIDENOTE: SEXY CATHRY TIMES IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! 3