AN: Thank you for all your thoughts on the story.

Part 13

Other families, other ladies, other soldiers had inhabited Graystone before them. Blair wrapped a mantle around her body as she made her way to the armory with her brother's man-at-arms, who had been surprised when she had requested to see the weapons in the castle. Even walking was painful to her, but she refused to give in to the pain.

The man showed her the impressive collection hanging from the walls and lined up on the tables of the armory.

"Lady Blair," said Sir Rufus, "I had not thought you interested in weaponry."

She reached out a hand, her arms screaming, and touched the handle of the various swords and axes there. Some even had traces of blood on them. Blair turned to look up at the knight. "Certainly when the men are gone, the women are expected to defend themselves." Blair picked up a slim dagger encased in leather. She drew it from the case and found the tip still sharp. She tucked it into her belt.

"You must know, my lady, that you will always be protected."

She asked softly, "Is that what the king said?"

"Aye. You are to be protected at all times. Abandon the lord's flanks if needed, but always watch over the lady."

Blair nodded. Surely Sir Rufus did not miss the large swelling on half of her face, the swelling of her eye, the cut on her lip.

"What then happened to Henry's protection last night?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse still.

Sir Rufus flushed. "My lady, what happens in a man's chambers is his business." Pathetic excuses. "But if there is a battle, the Tudor knights shall first secure your person."

"That is good to hear," she murmured. Yet now, she wondered why, she no longer believed it. Her love for her brother had not and never would wane, but now there was no blind trust. He had handed her to the man who had hurt her more than anyone in Norfolk had. Not even Sir Daniel, who loathed her entire being, had violated her. Her eyes landed on a long narrow knife that hung from the wall. "What is it, Sir Rufus?" she asked, pointing to the weapon. "It is beautiful."

The knight took the weapon off the wall and presented it to Blair. "It is a beautiful weapon, my lady," he agreed. "More beautiful by its function."

"What is it for?" she asked, intrigued. Blair turned the knife in her hands.

"It is made to fit between the gaps of a knight's armor plates." Blair urged the man to explain. "It is a misericordia."

"Misery," she said in translation.

Sir Rufus nodded. "In battle, my lady, there are often those fatally wounded by slow in dying, prolonged in suffering. That is when," he said, "we draw the misericordia and end our brother's pain."

"A mercy death," she pronounced.

"Aye."

Blair held the knife close to her, the very prospect of its function so attractive to her. The misericodia ended suffering. Certainly, one day, she could make use of it.

~o~o~o~o~o~

It was with no small measure of spite that he watched as his sister bid farewell to the Lancastrian lord as Nathaniel Archibald climbed atop his horse. Indeed, in the past months since Nathaniel and Jenny Humphrey had arrived with news of Blair's death, Chuck had wanted to be rid of his cousin, to no avail. When he had banished him from the keep, he had turned up the next day and asked him to spar.

And he had been that desperate to let Nathaniel's blood that he had agreed.

No weapons, merely brute force. The two had gone headlong into a wrestling match out in the courtyard. He suspected that Nathaniel had gone lightly on him at the beginning, plagued as he had been by guilt on his part in Chuck's mourning. But it was soon enough that Nathaniel found himself fighting for his life.

The side of Chuck's face throbbed, but he took pleasure in seeing Nathaniel's eye swollen and blood trickling from his cousin's nose.

"Go back to your king!" Chuck had yelled.

Nathaniel had shaken his head. "I shall live with my regret until I die. And I shall stay with you, cousin."

"I do not wish you to stay."

"Yet I will serve under you."

Chuck stared at the forlorn image of Lord Archibald. Bruises had started to form on his bare chest. Chuck suspected he appeared the same. "Beware what you commit yourself to, cousin. You have pledged fealty to Henry."

The blonde jaw locked. "I had seen the blood and the death in the Sweat. And I had seen the princess from the moment you brought her to the moment just before she died, sick and bled til she was white as the sheet she lay upon." Nathaniel limped towards his cousin, and grasped Chuck's arm. "I owe you more than I owe Henry Tudor."

The duke swallowed, then met Nathaniel's eyes. "It is a debt you can never repay."

"I know."

Time over time, Nathaniel had been tested. Chuck had allowed him to lead the charge on Lancastrian fortresses loyal to Henry, and time over time Nathaniel had delivered—defeated keeps, gold and trade goods. News of Chuck Bass' attack on the keeps that flew the Tudor rose soon reached the king.

Yet Henry would test Chuck's mettle after all. This time, it was an old castle seized from York by Henry. It was a slap on the face of all of York when he installed his new favorite son into Graystone. Carter Baizen and his bride, Henry's ward, had been given the keep as Baizen's reward for enjoining four Yorkist lords to pledge fealty to Henry Tudor. Traitors, all of them!

For this charge, Chuck would lead his men into battle himself.

"Archibald, do not tarry!" he called out.

He turned to his knights, and found the Gypsy's long shawl whipping around his first knight. "Daniel!" he barked.

"We charge before they are settled and installed. It is the best time for assault," he reasoned to his men. "You will be home and warm soon enough."

~o~o~o~o~o

Blair jerked up in bed when the door shot open. She looked up at her husband, who stood breathing harshly, glaring at her.

"Did you send him a message?" he gritted out.

"What has come upon you?" she demanded. "What are you speaking of?"

"Bass, Blair," he hissed. "Did you send your lover a message that sends him marching to us?"

"How can I send him a message?"

Carter strode to the windows and inspected them. He turned around and stared at her form as she sat on the bed, her hair in disarray around her head, the sheets of the bed tangled around her legs. "Do you still hurt?"

Her eyes narrowed. She held her breath. His eyes fell to the tight bodies of her nightgown. She demanded, "What do you think?"

His hand fell to her thigh and squeezed. "I think you hurt and you throb from me still." He leaned close to her ear. "That is what a real man feels like, wife. Time you found out how fucking is from me, not from a pathetic excuse like Bass." Carter's lips lowered to take hers.

And then stopped. His eyes widened and he pulled back, pressing his hand over the bleeding that started from his throat. He looked down at her appalled and he saw the blood that now stained the thin dagger that she held up.

"You are insane, woman!" he yelled.

Blair thrust her chin up. She warned him softly, "You will not touch me ever again."

"You are my wife," he spat. "My chattel. I can do as I please with you. If I want you, you will lie back and shut up." He lunged for her.

And all those lonely days in Calais were not spent on lounging. She thrust the dagger forward and wounded his knuckles. He swore, then stumbled backwards. It was not so sudden, despite what she would later think. Blair held the dagger steady before her and said, "I am the princess of England, you bastard." Henry had called her his ward for long enough. He had denied her her heritage to keep her safe, so that no one would take her against her will like the Norfolk men had done. But by far this had been the worst she had ever suffered, from a man he had rewarded. "I can kill you now and I shall never be punished for it, so tread lightly, husband," she spat out the last word like an insult.

"Princess," he exclaimed in disbelief. "You're the bloody red rose that perished in Harcourt?"

She glared at him. "You were rewarded handsomely by bringing your cousins to Henry, Carter. Are you not pleased?"

Carter held up his hands. "Put down the dagger."

She gave a haughty chuckle. "You do not order me to do anything. You do not touch me. You do not speak to me." She smiled thinly. "You will have the servants saddle a horse for me, with rations enough for a week in a pack."

Carter walked sideways to keep his eye on the dagger as he made his way back towards the door. "You wish to meet his party? You think to travel alone on these roads, Blair? You will not survive it."

She thought back to the night before. "I have suffered through worse."

"We could have made it work," Carter said, "if you had not been so preoccupied pining for a traitor who would soon meet his end."

Blair grabbed a traveling frock from her chest and hurriedly put it on. And then, she reached down and slipped on her shoes. Blair took the satchel that she had prepared from the armory and slung it over her shoulder. She hurried towards the door and waited as Carter commanded the arrangements to be done for her.

They made their way to the front doors. She turned around and saw Sir Rufus rushing into the castle.

"Norfolk is upon us," he told Carter. "Less than an hour away."

Carter received the small bag from the servant and handed it to Blair. He advised, "You are riding headlong into something which you do not know."

Blair accepted the bag. Instead of answering her husband, she demanded, "And my beast?"

"You only ride sidesaddle, lady. But your sidesaddle had been taken apart for maintenance. It shall take about a day."

Blair took a deep breath. There was no way she would spend another day under this roof. "There is a first for everything. A saddle then."

Carter nodded, and a mare cantered to the front.

Sir Rufus protested. Blair turned a pleading gaze at the knight, who winced at the sight of her battered face now turning purple and blue. "If you please, Sir Rufus."

Carter turned to the Tudor man-at-arms. "You are witness to this. She is insane to go. I did not force her away. Tell that Henry when he demands for her."

Rufus ignored Carter's stammering. "By my duty to the king, I must keep you here."

"By your duty to the king, you must keep me safe and alive." Blair blinked back her tears. "There is no safety for me here."

Carter straightened. "There is more safety here for you, unwilling in my bed, than there is out there where the rebels roam. You think any of them will ask you first if you are the duke of Norfolk's whore?"

And her hand flew so fast she barely noticed its progress. Next she knew, she had slapped her husband. Carter lunged to her, and Sir Rufus caught Carter's arms. Sir Rufus caught Carter's arms, then nodded at Blair. "By my duty to Henry I will need to come after you, my lady. But I shall give you a half an hour to start."

Blair nodded, then threw her bruised body onto Rufus' back to give the older knight a grateful embrace. And then, she picked up the items she had collected and tied them to the saddle. It was punishing on herself, on her thighs, for it being her first attempt and for her body still being sore. But her blood was pumping heavily, and the adrenaline coursed through her veins as she rode the horse out of Graystone's gates.

As her horse raced through the empty roads, Blair wrapped her arms around its neck, held on for dear life, then let out a scream of elation. For the first time in her entire life, she was all alone, without maids, without guards, without enemies surrounding her.

A half an hour before Sir Rufus started chasing her. And the Norfolk army was less than an hour's ride away. She would make it.

She let out a peal of laughter near hysterics. Her thighs were cramping around the body of the horse, and her battered body was suffering through the jarring ride. But still, she blinked back the pained tears.

She was free.

~o~o~o~o~o~

It was Sir Daniel who called his attention, pointing towards the direction of Graystone.

Chuck Bass, at the front of the line, turned to see the lone rider foolish enough to be charging towards them. "What on God's green earth," he muttered.

"Arrowmen, your grace?" Daniel asked.

"That rider is alone," Chuck said in protest.

Nathaniel's horse cantered towards the two. "He bears no standard, nor is he waving a white flag as a messenger."

The rider drew nearer, and what Chuck had thought was a mantle turned out to be long brown hair whipping in the wind. "It's a woman."

Sir Daniel watched as the woman's arms around the horse's neck loosened, and she raised one hand to wave to them. "Good lord, what is she doing? She does not know how to ride."

"No."

And then he heard her. Her voice was faint, against the wind that carried sound to the other direction. She called his name.

"No," Chuck breathed. "It's impossible." Yet still, he kicked his horse and it burst into a run, in full gallop towards the lone rider.

Her horse slowed until it came to a stop. He stopped his own stallion a few feet away. He jumped off his horse, and slowly walked up to her.

He stopped at her right at her foot. "Princess." His eyes clouded by his tears. "Have I died and gone to heaven?"

She burst into tears. He reached up his arms to her. Blair placed her arms on his shoulders and slid down from the horse. But her knees buckled when her feet touched the ground, and she clung to him with her arms around his neck.

"I cannot walk," she gasped into his ear.

Chuck pulled up her skirts in concern, and saw immediately the bruises on her thighs. He frowned, because Graystone had not been too far, even if she was unused to a saddle. He gripped her arm, and she groaned in pain. He froze. Chuck knelt by the hooves of her horse to check on her.

He saw Nathaniel and Daniel both riding towards them.

Carefully, he peeled back the sleeves of her gown and saw the distinct bruises in the shape of a hand. Chuck looked up to her beloved face, and pushed away the hair. His nostrils flared at the sight of the swollen and bruised side of her face.

"Blair," he choked out. "Who has done this to you?"

Her arms tightened around his neck. He slowly stood and lifted her up in his arms. "I had tried to be true to you, and I wished to die when they said you had perished."

"They had told me you were dead, Blair. I tried to see you. I wanted you back." He saw the pained agony in her face as she turned to bury her tears in his chest, the way she used to do. And now, he was filled with pride. Whatever had happened to her, she had escaped it on her own. "Henry told me you had died, Blair, and the sun was gone."

"I will not go back," she cried.

"Who hurt you?" he repeated, holding her close, fearing she would vanish if he closed his eyes.

"My husband," she said softly. "Carter Baizen."

And just by the name, he could tell what his Blair had gone through. And even more, his heart fractured at the thought. He turned cold eyes at Nathaniel, who still seemed confused as to who it was that Chuck held so close to him.

"You told me she was dead," Chuck said in accusation. "Was that why you remained in Norfolk, cousin, to ensure that I never find out otherwise?"

Daniel jumped from his horse and strode to Chuck. "Give her to me."

Chuck shook his head. "She's hurt."

Daniel nodded. "Give her to me so you may climb astride your horse, and I can hand her to you."

Reluctantly, Chuck released her into his first knight's arms. Blair stiffened in Daniel's arms, and fought against his hold. "No!" Daniel released her and allowed her to stand on unsteady feet.

"Blair, he will help you stand." He was watchful as Daniel held the princess up, remembering that Daniel had once hurt Blair himself. He reached down for her, and winced when she let out a pained moan at the transfer. Chuck settled her against him. "I'm sorry, princess," he murmured, knowing the ride back to his men would hurt her even more.

She breathed deeply against the pain, and then, Chuck felt her hand rest on the golden heart that was pinned to his mantle—the golden heart that had been pinned to his mantle each time he went to battle. "I'm home."

tbc