Chapter 14- Ride to War!

Author's Note: I think you all deserve a sainthood for your patience! Thank you so much for your patience and thank you to all those who have commented or followed this story.

Once again, I'm sorry to Richard/Clara shippers, but it just couldn't have been. But as you'll see from this chapter- he still misses Anne. :(

The whole incident with Ralph Scrope, Cecily and Jack is made up- though I can imagine it happening! Historically, Bess, Cecily, Ed and Megan all ended up going to Sheriff Hutton, near York; however, for the sake of this story I want to keep them separate. Also Michael Mason is an OC.

So, this chapter is about preparing for war! I am really excited, because this is two chapters before the Battle of Bosworth and I have a few surprising twists coming up!

I hope you're as excited as I am, please read and review.

"Don't blame yourself," the Doctor said softly. "It couldn't have been, and these things just are."

Clara sighed and nodded, while sitting on the balcony steps of the TARDIS. "I know," she said sullenly. She wished things could be different. Richard had taken to avoiding her since the last few days. She didn't blame him, but it just hurt to know that he was doing so well while opening up to her, only for her to reject him like that must have pushed him back into coldness, even if for a while. But what should she have done? Let him love her as a ghost? Not said anything as both of them descended into a pit that would give them a comforting thrill? All falls come to an end, and that's when the hard, cold and brutal reality would have beaten them like the ground at the bottom. Richard would never be happy with her, not truly once he realised who she was not; she would never truly feel his. In another universe maybe things could be different. Would he understand that? Did he blame her? The disappointment flowed over them both, like blood from a wound. Despite everything, he was still her friend and someone she deeply cared for and she missed him.

"He will understand," the Doctor reassured, with a smile. "And he'll come back stronger, more determined and as a fighter."

"That he will," Clara pondered. Richard had a country to defend and defend it he would with all his strength.

A message had arrived from Wales yesterday: Henry Tudor had landed in Pembrokeshire with an army of French mercenaries. He had demanded the Earl of Pembroke to declare for him and surrender that title to Jasper Tudor, but he had refused. Tudor, with supernatural flames, had burned down the castle and captured Pembroke's heirs as hostages. Haverfordwest had rushed to bend the knee to him after that and offer him their sword. Still, many of the Welshfolk had fled East or locked their castle gates, but many had learned from Pembroke's example and flocked to his army.

"I have something," the Doctor declared. He motioned to a long wooden chest. Clara opened it to reveal something enveloped in a thick white cloth, like regalia at a coronation. Her fingers brushed against the fabric and felt something stiff beneath. Carefully she picked it up, the weight feeling light but majestic in her hands. As she unveiled, the white layer and blue glow sent chills to her skin. It was a lance over six feet long, with a point skinny like a pin. She took hold of the leather bound handle and lifted it up, and the TARDIS' inner lights had a rival that illuminated the control room.

"Impressive," Clara complimented.

"Forged with a core of Cryastium," the Doctor said proudly. "If Richard can put that in Tudor, he has a fighting chance of drawing Macabrius out. You know how it happened, in traditional accounts?"

"Yes, Richard charged with the lance at Tudor, but Stanley decided to come to his aid. Not even his son's life could stop him, so how do we know he won't do the same this time?"

The Doctor smiled. "We expect him to do just that! But this time we are forewarned and so we are forearmed!" He jumped off some stairs and landed next to the console. "I will keep Stanley busy, until Richard can get to Tudor, Stanley will see Tudor is lost and will run, while I will guide Richard through the next steps. What do you think?"

Clara nodded. The plan was a good one, but it assumed that nothing else would crop up or that the Doctor would survive. "I hope that works... although Doctor..."

"Yes?"

Clara sighed. "I've never seen you so military like... are you OK?" She reached a hand to his arm. The Doctor smiled and squeezed back.

"Clara, I have fought in the Time War, back when I was forced to fight, here it's exactly the same- if I don't fight Macabrius will become stronger and rule another empire, not Tudor, Richard or Stanley but Macabrius."

"I suppose so." Clara cleared her throat, trying her level best to be hopeful and reminding herself that the Doctor knew what he was doing. "So when are you going to give this to Richard?"

"Soon. I have to make him understand that this should only be used when the time is right and not before. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to forge any swords with the Cryastium- I am very close, only a few more rounds of baking, melting and caramelising should bring me to Stage Three."

"Is Stage Three completion?"

The Doctor hesitated and grinned. "Close enough, nearly, very very nearly... but never mind we don't have the time."

"Unless you warp back in time," Clara suggested hopefully.

The Doctor chuckled. "I could but... timey wimey, you know?"

Clara nodded, despite having no actual idea past a rough guess.

"Shall we show it to Richard then?"

A few minutes later, they found the King in his study, his doublet was open and his fingers were drumming over his desk that was covered in parchments regarding this regiment and that regiment. He looked up and gave a slight frown. "Doctor, Lady Clara, what can I do for you? What's that?" His eyes wondered over to the lance that was covered in the cloth.

"Your Grace!" John Howard called from the door. "I have urgent news.

"Your niece, Cecily has been taken!"

Richard shot straight to his feet. "What?" He could not fathom how this was possible. How could Cecily be snatched from right under his nose, in Westminster? Besides she was with Ralph Scrope, his retinue of twelve men and Jack de la Pole riding through the Vale of Slough. Unless...

"Who took her?" Clara asked.

"Baron Upsall waited until they were far enough North in London, and Jack was knocked unconscious- he's all right but being checked over by Forest, before Upsall made off with Cecily, shouting about how England was doomed by the coming of the Red Dragon and he had to make sure his betrothed princess was safe."

Richard had no idea whether to laugh or flip his table over. If this were some play he probably would have been hysterical at Ralph's sickeningly love struck antics, but it was anything but a play. "That fool! That craven fool! I consented to that betrothal because I trusted him!" Richard was coldly livid. "I want Cecily, and his retinue found."

"Yes, your Grace, I shall lead a host myself... of thirty men?" Howard responded.

"They may not be back by the time we meet with Tudor," the Doctor pointed out. "Your Grace, we need all the swords we can get."

"He has my niece, Doctor," Richard said evenly. "He has kidnapped her, betrayed my trust and spread panic with his talk of England being doomed."

"I understand, but I don't believe he would harm her," the Doctor reasoned. "You can deal with him once Tudor is out of the way."

Richard breathed heavily. "All right, John, hold that for now, I need to speak with Jack." He turned to the Doctor and Clara. "I know you have something to show me; wait here and I will be back as soon as possible."

He hurried out of his chambers, with Howard following closely. They found Jack in the infirmary, in his undeshirt, sat on a bed, his hair a mess and a blood stained bandage on his right temple.

"Jack, are you all right?" Richard asked, concerned. "No, no, you don't need to rise!"

"I'm fine... Uncle... I'm so sorry... I tried to stop him... Cecily was screaming and demanding that Ralph let her go! He kept going on about how he had to keep her safe from the doom that is supposedly coming! I drew my sword and even injured one of his men... I tried to pull her away but I felt the butt of a pole-!" His skin was blazing and he was fidgeting restlessly.

"Jack, it's all right, slow down!" Richard urged. "It's not your fault!

"Here, get him a drink!" Doctor Forest handed Jack a mug of mead, which the younger man silently drank, which relaxed him somewhat.

"Did Ralph say where he was taking her?" Richard continued.

Jack shook his head. "No, just that the bloody Red Dragon was coming for England and... that you won't be able to protect us this time, that the North knew it..."

Richard bristled and had to take a long deep breath to contain his fury, which was the only alternative to fear: what did he mean that the North knew he couldn't protect England? Had he lost the North? If so, then what hope did he have for keeping the South? No, that could never be true, the North had showed him the most loyalty and support even when he had doubts. If it were true then he would know. However, he held back because some things were more important. "Cecily, how did she seem? Did he hurt her?"

Jack shook his head again, but cracked a smile. "He did try to gag her with his hand- not violently, but like you might silence a child from screaming and giving away your position to a robber or thug. She bit him! But I don't think he would actually hurt her." Then Jack seemed to see Richard's self doubt. "Uncle, Upsall is a manifest coward! Just because he is, doesn't mean the rest of the North or even the country is."

Richard nodded in partial relief. Although he was cursing the coward for saying such things and creating panic when people needed calm- an act of personal and official treason- he was relieved that his niece wasn't in any immediate physical danger, he was even proud and could clearly imagine her biting him- she was a daughter of York! Though Richard was under no illusion that she wasn't scared or panicking. Should he send men after her? Should he send men to hack off Upsall's head, or would that panic her more?

"Your Grace, how do you want to proceed?" Howard enquired.

"Send him a messenger, saying that I would be willing to forgive this act and continue my blessing, provided he keeps her safe until after the next upcoming battle, returns her afterwards, and comes and fights for me as he's sworn to do." Richard thought for a moment. "If he does, I might consider bringing the wedding earlier. But if he doesn't, then I will deal with Tudor and Baron Upsall will beg for the same mercy that I showed Tudor."

Howard nodded in assent. "It shall be done."

"Now, Jack, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, honestly! Just a knock on the head."

"Though he should rest a day," Forest recommended, to which Richard agreed.

"Uncle, there was a man who found me and helped me," Jack continued. "He says that he knew you and wanted to speak with you. I told him that I would let you know."

"What was this man's name?"

"Michael Mason. Does that mean anything to you?"

Richard pondered and wracked his brains, though he couldn't be sure either way. "I can't be sure, Jack. But I'll deal with him later, the Doctor and Lady Clara have something for me."

A few minutes later, Richard had his fingers on the lance that the Doctor had forged for him, and he couldn't help but crack a smile. The light of the lance could almost blind a man if he wasn't careful. Richard listened intently to what the Doctor had to say about the lance and their strategy. He yearned for detailed answers about the battle: who would declare for him and who for Tudor, who would live and die, but the Doctor simply told him he couldn't answer because if he did Richard would react and that could mess up the plan, which could put England's future in jeopardy.

"You ask me to trust you and follow you blindly, yet you won't tell me the whole story," Richard said coldly.

"We can't," the Doctor replied sadly. "I wish it were that simple."

"Your Grace, when the time comes for you to use the lance, and not before, I will guide you, but you must trust me and follow what I say!"

Richard was still hesitant. He didn't like this at all, he hated it. Hated the secrecy and the one way trust. Why should he trust if they wouldn't?

Clara looked at him sadly. "Do you know how we first met? Me and the Doctor?"

"No."

"He turned up at my door dressed like a monk and acted happy to see me."

"I was happy to see you!"

"Be quiet!" Clara said, not unkindly. "If any other man did what he had, I would have slapped him and run a mile; or in this age, put an arrow through him."

Richard chuckled, but it failed to reach his eyes.

"I trust the Doctor with my life," Clara whispered. "I also trust you, Richard. You're a good man and a good king. It's in our interest and the whole of England's that you beat Tudor and Macabrius.

"You know we have no use for anything they might offer us. You know they would harm Megan and Ed and I want to stop that!"

"It's not that," Richard confessed, turning away. He sighed. "Why is it that you're not telling me the whole story?"

"If a certain leaf hadn't blown into my father's face, he would never have wondered into the road, my mother would never had to pull him away, they would never have met, and I would never have been born.

"Little things can change so much, but changing huge things can have disastrous consequences," Clara explained. "I know you want to know everything, but if you did you'd want to change it all, but that would make everything uncertain and we won't be able to help you like we're trying to."

"I see," Richard croaked.

"I feel that I can trust you, Richard," Clara admitted. "I wouldn't have said half of the things I have if I didn't. Do you trust me?"

Richard frowned for a moment. Logically he had no reason to distrust them, what Clara had just said made sense. He knew in what situations they had been untruthful, he knew that they would have had to trust him significantly for them to say the things they had.

"Trust them, Richard, trust them." Richard couldn't be sure whether that was an actual voice or if it was in his head, only that it sounded soft, like a whisper at night uttered by the warm hearth.

Even though they were not telling him everything, something or that voice told him that it was for a good reason, almost like they were trying to protect him. He didn't like it, but he understood. "I do," he admitted. "I trust you both."

The pair breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at him warmly.

"So how is this supposed to work, am I not to rely on you for input or counsel until that moment?"

The Doctor glanced at Clara, before continuing. "No, your Grace, of course not. Just keep doing what you would normally do." The Doctor's face brightened up.

"If you're still worried about Stanley, remember you have his son, but if he's still tempted... I'll take care of that," the Doctor said, grinning from ear to ear.

Richard let out a brief laugh, this time the smile did reach his eyes for a flickering moment.

"A man, who claims to know me- more than as a his King- seeks an audience; will you care to join me?"

The Doctor grinned, as did Clara, before he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "A strange man who claims to know you? Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

Michael Mason was supposedly in his early twenties but looked a decade older. His hair was a chestnut brown, with a hint of a darker stubble. He appeared slightly shorter than he was because of his posture which slouched somewhat, as if he was at unease with himself and all those around him at Court. He wore an old teal coloured doublet which had been wearing thin for a while. On his hip, he carried a messer rather than a sword. As he knelt, a subtle round of whispers filled the Great Hall, the murmurs only paused when he spoke and a strong Mancusian accent came out.

"If it pleases your Grace, I am Michael Mason, your Grace may or may not remember me-"

"Trafford, 1478?" Richard guessed with a smile.

"Yes," Mason beamed with almost childlike excitement. "You remembered?"

"Of course," Richard said. "How are Anna and Gregory?"

"They finished their education, can read and write, they now help the whole village thanks to your gift," Mason informed. "They even taught me! My brother and sister are both very grateful, as am I, your Grace."

"You helped my nephew, I hear. I thank you for that," Richard said. "How goes the pony trade, if you still do that?"

"Very well, your Grace. I also trade in Yorkshire and Northumberland now."

"That's good to hear, tell me, what would you like to discuss with me today?" Richard pressed amicably.

"I want to help you fight Tudor, your Grace," Mason declared. "Does your Grace intend to issue a summon for arms in Yorkshire?"

Richard's smile faded. The penny had dropped, and the whole hall held its breath.

"I believe I already have," Richard frowned.

"Forgive me, your Grace."

"That's quite all right," Richard excused. "What makes you say that?"

"It's just that, my business contacts say that the whole city is waiting in anticipation for the call."

Richard curled his lip and nodded, before glancing at Robert Harrington and William Catesby- both returned a concerned glance. The latter had advised leaving the call to the Earl of Northumberland, as a sign of respect and responsibility. Only that it seemed like Northumberland preferred to sit on his fat behind, exactly like he loved doing. Richard found his thoughts passing over Cecily and Ralph.

"Michael, tell me honestly, what are people in the North saying about the upcoming invasion?"

Michael swallowed. "Your Grace... they are scared of following the way of the Welsh villages who refused to kneel to Tudor, but they hope for your victory, which is why they're confused as to why some places have got your call and not others."

"Thank you, Michael," Richard smiled diplomatically. "My message probably just got lost, I shall write to Mayor Wrangwysh directly and remind him." He signalled to James, Robert, Brackenbury, Francis, the Doctor and Clara to follow him later. "Very well, Mr Mason, Mr Catesby is in need of a squire, he will show you to his chambers."

Catesby gave the King a puzzled look, but the latter smiled reassuringly. "It's all right, we can trust him, just see what he can do and let me know.

"That would be all- dismissed!"

Catesby nodded, before graciously greeting Michael, while Richard walked towards his solar.

"That slimy piece of sh-!" Robert began.

"Careful, Robert," Richard tilted his head towards Clara.

"It's all right, I've heard worse," she assured, before continuing. "So, is the Earl of Northumberland considering betraying you?"

"The Earl of Northumberland considers betraying everyone except his own hide," Francis scoffed. "We should have asked for his son as well!"

"Leave it, Francis, I can't beat a man into loyalty," Richard sighed. "Have a call sent directly to Thomas Wrangwysh, and John Scrope- yes, those two men can be trusted, more so than Northumberland."

They arrived at the solar, before Richard put a hand on Clara's shoulder, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention; this was the most intimate he had been with her since their dinner all that time ago. "Can you find Bess, Megan and Ed? Tell Eve that they need to start preparing to leave Westminster with us tomorrow."

"With us?" Clara asked, surprised.

"That's right, we'll stand vigil from Nottingham or Leicester, but the children will continue with their retinue towards Sheriff Hutton, in the North," Richard explained. "Bess will be escorted to Norfolk." As he said those words, a chill fell over Clara, who had to check if the window was open. The invasion was real and it was coming.

"Yes, your Grace."

The next morning had dawned on Westminster like an exam or job interview. The sunlight darted in through the windows and Richard descended down a flight of stairs. The plan was to meet with Francis- there was a job for him. A plan which involved Jack de la Pole. Neither of them would like it, but Francis would accept it with less complaint and do his duty.

A gradual feeling of de ja vu fell over him as he ventured close to Francis' chambers, there was something about the way that his footsteps echoed that brought a homely feeling to him, or maybe there was something else, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

The chamber door was half open. Francis Lovell was kneeling on the floor, and Lady Anna Fitz-Hugh stood before him. Her mousy brown hair was plaited in a familiar way that if she was a few inches shorter, Richard could have easily mistaken her for someone else.

"Richard," she called. Her voice was firm but gentle, her eyes warm and full of energy.

He was armoured up, preparing to ride out to fight Buckingham- that turncloak who Richard was convinced, until recently, was steadfast and loyal. It had turned out that he had always wanted his own ambition and Richard had been a stepping stone in that direction. Buckingham had allied himself with Tudor and planned to overthrow the King.

Even though Richard would never admit it, he felt scared, scared enough to lose sleep to his anxiety.

"You'll beat them," Anne assured him, touching his arm. Richard nodded weakly. "No, I know you will. You're the bravest, strongest and wisest man I know. You will beat them both, you have it in you, I can see it. I wish you could too."

"Thank you, Anne," Richard croaked.

"May I give you a wife's blessing?"

Richard grinned and knelt before her, while she gently pressed the sides of his face.

"Come back to me, my Richard," Anne beseeched. "Take my love, take my blessing, take my faith and my prayer for your victory. Then come back to me, my love."

A surge of relief washed over him, as his nerves rooted firmly. He was no longer scared, he would fight with all he had and, God willing, come back victorious. He had something worth fighting for that was more than a throne or a claim- her.

Then he woke from his reverie and reality cut through him harshly. What he would give to be where Francis was, and for Anne to bless him, or even smile at him, just once more. She should have been here with him, making him feel blessed and protected, in a wholesome sense. She would know what to say, to ease his anxiety without even realising it. But she wasn't- because of him.

Richard quickly stole away, praying that neither Francis or Anna heard him. He strode as far as possible and rested his hands upon a bannister, as a lone tear fell from his eyes.

Some days were easy, relatively, where he was just too busy. But then other days the memories and the touches, the voice and the laughter would come back, as if it were as vivid as yesterday. Why did it have to be today of all days? Though did he actually ever want to forget? Forget the way she looked, spoke, lived and was until she was just a vague idea? That thought terrified him, but he couldn't dwell on that so he forced himself to wipe his eyes and compose himself.

"Uncle?" Megan had appeared behind him. She had a thoughtful look about her, her eyes wide and calling out to him.

"Yes, Megan?"

"Are you, OK?"

Richard chuckled lightly, and forced a smile. "I'm good, are you?"

"Aunty Anne used to bless you before you went to fight, didn't she?"

"Aye, she did."

"I know I'm actually coming with you, but I can bless you, if you like," Megan offered.

Richard blinked fiercely, touched and completely taken by surprise. Who was he to refuse her, so he knelt before his eleven year old niece and she took his head in her tiny hands.

"Come back to us, Uncle. You can beat Tudor, I know you can!" Megan said.

"Thank you, my love," Richard replied and he kissed her forehead.

"It's true, Uncle, you can gut him like a boar or claw him like a falcon!" Megan exclaimed.

"Megan, that's not ladylike!" Richard laughed, trying to be stern but failing. "I'll do my utmost to gut and claw him," he whispered mischievously, touching her chin. He almost cried again as another realisation hit him. Megan and Ed needed him, as did his other nieces and nephews, but these two more so. They had been orphaned from a young age, even before their mother had been sick and their father driven mad and paranoid. He and Anne had taken them in, given them a home- and now Tudor planned to rob them of it because they would pose a threat to him, should he win.

That thought filled him with anger, and a fire to drive him. Anne may have died, but her spirit for these children was very alive and inside Megan, Ed and himself. Richard still had something worth fighting for, and fight for it he would.

An hour later, three hosts stood ready to depart Westminster Palace, while being mounted on horses. Some of the riders were stewards, others were squires and knights and lords and ladies. The first host would soon break away from the others and venture on to Norfolk. This host carried Bess Plantagenet, who put on a face as stoic as she could muster, though Clara knew she had given a tearful farewell to her cousins and uncle, beseeching them to go safely.

The second host would travel to Leicester, where it would bid farewell to the third and carry Megan and Ed towards Sheriff Hutton, though its divergence would upset someone.

The third consisted of Richard, King of England; Lord John Howard, Duke of Norfolk; James and Robert, the Harrington brothers; William Catesby and his new squire Michael Mason; Knights of the Garter- Richard Ratcliffe, Robert Brackenbury, John Huddleston and Thomas Pilkington, along with George Stanley, Baron Strange and son of Thomas Stanley. Accompanying them were Doctor Forest, Clara and the Doctor, who carried Plantagenet the falcon on his gloved hand.

"Go on, boy!" he urged, jerking his hand up. Plantagenet cried out and soared into the blue sky and dived for his hunt- he would find them later at his own convenience.

"Open the gates!" Catesby ordered one of the stewards, who complied at once.

Clara took a deep breath, her heart was beating so rapidly in her chest. Each beat was a tick from the clock of inevitability. Though the exact details were uncertain, she and the Doctor knew for sure the location they were headed, the thought of which made her stomach flip with both anxiety and hopefulness, where the future stood on the tip of a knife- Bosworth Field.

Author's Note: Any thoughts guys? By the way, the "voice" will feature again in Chapter 19, which will be called "Heart of a King". Any ideas on what it is? The next chapter will be called " Dickon's Choice", and I promise you that Chapters 18-20 will be uploaded together, as I have 19 and 20 in their first draft. ;)