AN Okay, two things before we start! First, I'm sorry if I didn't answer your review, I was a little swamped and got a bit confused as to which I answered and which I didn't, sorry! Second, I haven't been posting as often as I'd like, but my last exam is friday, so I should have plenty of free time form then on. So expect more frequent updates, yay!
roses are red, roses are white
part one
now rises the sun of york
chapter four
the game of love
The late December wind is chilly as it blows over the castle, giving Madge plenty of reason to draw closer to Gale as they walk along the ramparts. She tucks into his side with a shiver and he rubs her gloved fingers with his, heat spilling through her.
"What do you think?" he asks, gesturing out at the snow covered world stretched out before them. Madge feels her breath catch in her throat.
"It's amazing," she whispers in awe and Gale nods.
"That's why I wanted to bring you here," he says with a smile and Madge finds herself smiling back. He turns from her to the snow covered land below, a look of nostalgia washing over his face. He leans against the battlements, arms folded and Madge watches him with a strange ache in her chest.
"Once, when I was a boy, my father brought me up to the roof of our castle, Middleham, and we watched the sun rise together. It was…it was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. After that, no matter where we were, our castle or someone else's, we always made sure to find the perfect spot to watch the sunrise together. And even though he's…not here anymore, it's still the first thing I do at every new castle."
Gale smiles a little wistfully, a little sadly and Madge squeezes his arm.
"I've never watched the sun rise," she says quietly, strangely feels like it would be wrong to speak too loudly.
"Well, you won't find a better place at Windsor to do it than here."
Madge nod and bites her lip.
"I think I'd like to, someday."
"Maybe I'll join you," Gale says, looking away from the view to meet her gaze. Madge smiles, her stomach doing something truly odd. He continues to look at her, neither one of them saying a word and Madge feels truly out of sorts, her whole body experiencing the same strangeness as her stomach. The wind picks up; whipping their cloaks and hair around, and Madge has to close her eyes against its sharp sting.
"Maybe we should head back inside," Gale laughs and she nods.
"Yes please."
He leads her back in, his body warm despite the bitter cold and she still feels a bit like she's standing on unsteady ground. The way he'd looked at her…he must be growing fond of her, very fond. But then…
Faster Gale faster
God yes
Perhaps he is simply hoping to bed her, as he had that other girl. Madge feels her stomach harden. Well, he won't. I shall have his heart.
(and still, that little voice in her head whispers, and what will you do when you have it?)
Madge carries a truly boring missive from the cook back to Katniss' chambers, her latest pointless errand. Everyone had acted as if were of the utmost importance but Madge knows it matters little to Katniss whether they have mutton or venison for dinner tonight. The truth is merely that the Duchess had arrived, fire in her eyes, and that meant Madge had to be shuffled off. She sighs for the umpteenth time as she reaches the door to Katniss' outer chambers and walks inside.
"This is beyond foolishness now, Katniss. You cannot carry on this way."
Madge freezes at the sound of Duchess Elizabeth's voice coming from Katniss' bedchamber. Her tone is sharp and Madge quickly shuts the outer door behind her.
"May I remind you, Mother, that I am the queen?" Katniss asks, sounding more weary than angry. Madge tiptoes closer to the inner door and presses her ear against it.
"For now, perhaps, but it won't be for long if you carry on as such," comes the Duchess' sharp retort and Madge clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp. There is a long, heavy pause and Madge cannot help but hold her breath.
"Some might consider that treason," Katniss finally murmurs and Madge moves back a few paces towards the crack between the door and the wall to hear her better.
"It is a fact Katniss, one you seem determined to ignore. I don't understand why this is so difficult for you to grasp!" Duchess Elizabeth snaps, voice louder with frustration. Madge's eyes go wide.
"I have already done as you asked, Mother. Vick, Rory and Haymitch have married-"
"That is not enough! Posy, Marvel and Gale must marry into the nobility as well. We need to bind England's most prominent families to us, to ensure they stand with us when Lancaster rises again!"
"I understand tha-"
"Do you?"
"Yes, I do. But-"
"But nothing! Coriolanus may be languishing in the tower, but Cato is still out there. There are still Lancastrians in England that would fight with him, not to mention all those who would prefer a boy on the throne to a woman."
There is another pause and Madge can imagine Katniss' frustration. I don't know if I could manage with such a domineering Mother, she thinks and frowns as she pictures it. Definitely not.
"I know-" Katniss begins, only to be cut off yet again.
"Then why will you not do as I say? We need allies if we are to remain on the throne Katniss. You must arrange marriages for Posy, Marvel and Gale into the nobility. I cannot understand why you are so resistant!"
There is another pause and Madge leans even farther forward, her nails digging into the wood of the door. Katniss sighs helplessly.
"It doesn't feel right, choosing for them-"
"Right? You are the Queen! You have every right and they will do their duty graciously or lose all the favours you have bestowed upon them. They have risen high on your success, but they can fall just as quickly."
Madge's eyes widen at the threat in the Duchess' voice, a promise she would not hesitate to keep. This is worse than I thought. Or is it better?
"Mother-"
"Likewise, you and Primrose must find husbands from foreign royalty. We need the other monarchs of Europe to recognize us as the legitimate rulers of England, or we are ruined. If they lend their support to the Lancastrians, all we have worked for will be lost. Is that what you want?"
There is a lengthy pause and then
"No," Katniss says quietly, so quietly Madge barely hears it.
"You need a husband. You must produce an heir, a son, or we will never see an end to the instability plaguing England."
"But-"
"No, Katniss. I have heard all your arguments. You cannot simply name one of your cousins as heir, you must give England a son. What the people want is a peaceful succession, one that cannot be questioned or disputed. They are tired of the warfare, the jostling for power. They want stability and that can only be achieved if you hand the crown to your son. Coriolanus has Cato and until you have a prince of your own, the Lancastrians will always be appealing. Furthermore, you are a woman Katniss, many will never be comfortable with you ruling alone. They will only be confident if you have a man beside you and we cannot afford to lose their confidence."
"I know. I know," Katniss whispers, the exhaustion in her tone tinged with despair.
"Then do it," Duchess Elizabeth says, voice cold. "Find a wealthy prince and give him a fine crop of sons to solidify our dynasty. And then make a queen of your sister."
"No. I will not send her away."
Madge startles a bit at Katniss' vehemence. She has been so passive, how strange to hear her finally standing up to her mother.
"You do not have a choice! We need the support of other royal houses and there is no better way to get that than to make Primrose a queen."
"I won't send her away!" Katniss shouts, fire burning in her words. Madge jumps a little at her anger. I do not think I have ever seen or heard her so angry.
"You will, do you hear me? This is not a discussion! You will find Primrose a husband whether you like it or not!" Duchess Elizabeth all but roars and Madge has to flatten herself against the wall to avoid the door as the Duchess comes crashing through it. Madge swallows her squeak of surprise and Duchess Elizabeth strides to the other door, wrenching it open and slamming it shut behind her. Madge places a hand over her heart and releases the breath she'd been holding.
The House of York is certainly falling to pieces.
"I'm just so tired of everyone telling me what to do," Katniss whispers to no one and Madge hates herself for the sudden pity she can feel in her heart.
Curse these Yorkists, curse them all
Katniss and Duchess Elizabeth's argument continues to echo through her head over the next few days and Madge knows she is running out of time. What if Katniss bows to her mother's wishes? I could lose any chance of winning Gale. Worse, Katniss might accept Marvel's request that we marry. I need to do something, but what?
Madge is so caught up in her worries she doesn't notice there is someone else in the hall until she walks right into him. She lets out a little cry of surprise and hands grab her arms to help steady her, hands she recognizes in an instant.
"Careful there," Gale says with a bit of laugh and Madge flushes.
"I'm so sorry," she apologizes as she straightens up and Gale laughs again.
"No worries, but…may I ask what has you so deep in thought?"
Madge's eyes widen as she scrambles to find a plausible excuse.
"Oh, just…just trying to decide what the Queen should wear for Christmas," she invents and Gale nods.
"Ah yes, I suppose that's very important."
"Yes," Madge nods, "very, very important. And what are you doing here?"
"Oh, I'm just off to see the physician."
"Are you alright?" she asks in alarm and he smiles a little.
"Fine, just um, a bit of a chill I think. Nothing serious."
Madge frowns because a chill could be very serious; after all, people die of chills all the time! She is just about to say so when Gale's eyes widen and he turns his head, sneezing loudly.
"God bless you," she tells him quickly, leaning forward in worry and he nods, fumbling in his doublet for a handkerchief. He pulls one out to blow his nose and Madge feels her mouth pop open.
"There is a gigantic hole in that," she says and Gale holds it out. He grimaces.
"Right, yeah I know. I've been meaning to get a new one, but I keep forgetting."
Madge shakes her head and takes his arm. Hopeless, honestly.
"You need to get to the physician," she all but orders and starts to march him down the hall.
"I'm really alright, you needn't be concerned."
"I can't help that," she tells him and he smiles, looking pleased. She marches him to Katniss' physician and gives him a stern look before she leaves.
"You best do as he tells you. You must take good care of yourself."
Gale grins and places a hand over his heart.
"I swear on my honour, Lady Madge, that I shall be a model patient."
Madge nods.
"See that you are."
She turns to go, Gale's eyes tickling her back and again Katniss and Duchess Elizabeth's conversation crowds in on her.
What if after all this work, it all comes to nothing?
She stops and looks back at him, their eyes meeting and her whole body starts to feel empty and cold.
What if this really is the end?
What then?
Christmas finally arrives, but Madge's holiday cheer has long since disappeared.
All the week leading up to December 25th, there had been pageants and plays, each one acting out a scene from the life of Christ. Madge had found herself unable to enjoy any of them, applauding half-heartedly and gripped with dread. The handkerchief she'd been making had taken her twice as long as usual to complete, so distracted with worry was she and she'd felt so ill she'd had to excuse herself from the hunt. With each day that passed, she felt as if a noose was slowly tightening around her neck.
It was six years ago and yet it could have been yesterday.
The night of, Annie helps her dress and Madge feels a hard lump forming in her stomach, weighing her down with memories of that last royal Christmas. It's different now, it's different she tries to tell herself but what if isn't? Annie laces her into a golden kirtle and then a houppelande of rich purple silk embroidered with silver and gold, but Madge can find no cheer in her sumptuous clothes. Please Lord, let it be different this time.
The cuffs, collar and hem are maroon and they match her girdle, decorated with hearts made of pearls with a bright ruby in the center of each. Madge runs her fingers over those hearts and feels her own shaking in her chest. Annie hangs a string of gold, pearls and amethysts around her neck and then weaves purple ribbons into her hair, capping it off with a golden circlet, the metal cool against Madge's forehead.
"You look beautiful," Annie says and this is so like last time that Madge almost weeps. Instead she stands, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt.
"I wish you were coming with me," she says and Annie smiles.
"It's alright; it'll be nice to spend one Christmas away from court."
Madge nods and wishes she could spend all her Christmases far, far away from court. Annie reaches forward and squeezes her hand, her fingers comforting.
"It'll be alright," Madge says and she can't be sure if she's saying it for herself or for Annie. Not that it really matters, they're both smart enough to know it won't be.
It never is, after all.
Madge and Prim follow Katniss into the Great Hall, everyone bowing as they approach. The whole room has been scrubbed fresh, wreaths, holly boughs and garlands hang over every door and window and gold dust has been sprinkled over everything, making the entire room glitter. This is Katniss' very first Christmas as queen and she has gone all out, but then, she doesn't have much choice. The new monarchy cannot appear weak or lacking in funds, they must be magnificent. They certainly are that, Madge thinks, taking in the cat and rose shaped sculptures made of ice and the heavy white powder along the walls to mimic silver stars hang from the rafters and though Katniss is competing with Coriolanus' ghost, her idea of a Christmas celebration is much more informal than his.
There will be no sit down dinner, instead benches cluster at one end of the hall and banqueting tables line the length of one whole wall, each laden with mountains of delicious food. People can serve themselves, can sit if needed but the majority of the room has been left open for dancing. Star spangled minstrels play on the raised platform usually reserved for the Queen's high table, serving boys wearing bells offer wine, mead and cider and even Madge cannot help but be affected by the air of gaiety infusing every inch of the hall. The laughter, golden light, sweet smells and twinkling decorations begin to rub away at her shell of apprehension, but still, she remembers last time, remembers how she'd been enchanted by beauty then too only to have her every hope shattered. Never forget what Kings and Queens are capable of. Coriolanus might not be ruling any longer, but these Yorkists are no angels.
There is a golden throne with velvet cushions for Katniss and Madge and Prim follow her as she heads over to it, the crowd parting seamlessly. Katniss sits, Madge and Prim settling on stools to either side of her. Servers immediately arrive with the best choices of food and drink, because unlike everyone else, the Queen could never be expected to serve herself. Madge chooses some spiced wine, a sugared plum and a miniature meat pie, not wanting to overeat if she'll be expected to dance all night long.
Katniss, who never joins the dancing, chooses a fair bit of everything offered and Madge can't help but remember Marvel's comments. It is good for a woman to watch her figure. Overwhelmed with a sudden surge of spite, Madge makes sure to spear several more plums and hopes that wherever he is in the room, he sees her eating them all.
"Oh no, look at that. You know, Rory said he wasn't going to dance tonight but I told him that was ridiculous, after all it's Christmas! And also, it would incredibly ungallant of him not to partner Philippa and yet look at him," Prim points out with a frown and Madge follows her finger. Rory and Philippa are hovering at the fringe of the dancers, standing just a bit too far apart, their eyes looking anywhere but each other.
"He's not being a very good husband, is he?" Prim asks sourly and Madge doesn't say that she thinks Philippa's probably glad Rory hasn't asked her to dance.
"Hmm," Katniss answers noncommittally. Prim nods.
"He's always saying that being married is no fun at all, but he isn't exactly helping the situation, is he?"
Madge will concede that, but again, she's fairly certain neither one of them is helping. Prim continues to glare at the pair of them and Katniss rolls her eyes.
"Would you like to go and sort them out?" she asks and Prim beams at her.
"Oh yes, thank you, I won't be long," she promises, kissing her sister on the cheek and then heading off. Katniss watches her go with a shake of her head. Madge turns back to her pie and she is beyond glad both she and Katniss are busy eating. She has no idea if she is meant to speak or if she should hold her tongue, it is usually Prim who fills their silence. Not that it ends up mattering much, for only moments after Prim leaves, Marvel appears, his signature grin in place. Madge feels her skin prickle.
"A most happy and joyous Christmas to you, my most beloved cousin and Queen," Marvel says, bowing low and kissing Katniss' hand. She smiles thinly.
"And to you," she says and Marvel turns to Madge, his gaze heating up. She drops her eyes, focusing instead on his pointed shows and hopes they both chalk it up to maiden bashfulness.
"And of course, a most marvelous Christmas to you, my lovely sister," he says, voice low. His lips are too hot on her hand as he kisses it and Madge wishes she was anywhere but here.
"I was hoping I might beg the hand of your fair lady for a dance," he says to Katniss, his smile large and arrogant. Madge squeezes her plate and knows there's no escape. Not tonight, and maybe not ever. Maybe he'll even get Katniss to agree to our marriage.
"I must beg your pardon cousin, but I have need of her services," Katniss tells him and Madge looks up in surprise. For one brief, tiny second, there is an ugly look in Marvel's eyes but he smothers it quickly.
"Of course, perhaps another time," he says cheerily and Madge feels relief filing her up.
"If you are looking for a partner, I see the Marchioness of Montagu is in need of one," Katniss points out and they both follow her line of sight. Vick is out on the floor with Posy, his nine year old wife Petronella left to look at the dancers with a face full of yearning.
"Of course," Marvel manages, his cheer a little forced. Madge watches him head over to Petronella, her whole face lighting up when he asks her to dance. Madge almost smiles as they join the other couples, their height difference making for a truly odd pair. Left alone with Katniss yet again, she looks around the room for something to do and finds her mother sitting on one of the benches with Hazelle. At least she's not being forced to dance tonight. Perhaps it is the glow of so many candles, but Madge is sure her mother looks haler than usual, her complexion not nearly as pale and wan. A Christmas miracle, some might say. Madge is not foolish enough to believe her mother will ever be healthy, but she is selfish and wishes her mother might live forever. I am not ready to be without you.
She returns to looking around, lest she depress herself and oddly, she cannot find Haymitch anywhere, but she spies the surly looking Lady Alma near the banquet table, her cold eyes fastened on Katniss. That's Finnick's mother, isn't it? I know his step-father fought for York; I suppose that's why Lady Alma has managed to remain in favour. Still, no wonder she looks so sour. It must be awful, having your son so far away.
Madge cannot help but think of her own father, farther away even than France and turns to her sugared plums to try and soften the pain. Christmas revels are no time for melancholy, she chides herself, it is your duty to appear happy and gay. She licks sugar off her thumb and then her eyes find Gale, looking so very handsome in a silver doublet with gold embroidery. He is heading towards them and Madge follows him through the crowd, her heart bouncing in her chest. He is hiding something behind his back and when he turns slightly to avoid some dancers, she gets a glimpse of it and frowns. A book? Why has he brought a book? He reaches them and bows, an easy, happy smile on his face. He should smile more often she thinks and then shakes her head.
"Happy Christmas, my Queen," he greets and Katniss rolls her eyes.
"I was wondering if you were ever going to show up," she says and he grins.
"Terribly sorry, I hate to keep you waiting."
Katniss snorts and Gale turns to Madge, his eyes bright. He bows and kisses her hand, a tingle traveling up her arm.
"Happy Christmas," he tells her, voice softer than when he'd spoken with Katniss.
"And to you, Lord Gale," she replies and he lifts his head to meet her eyes.
"Perhaps you two should dance," Katniss suggests, voice a bit strange, "Lady Madge is probably bored sitting here with me."
Madge turns to look at her and Katniss is determinedly not looking at either of them, her expression somewhat uncomfortable.
"I'm not bored in the slightest, your Grace," Madge says because she is supposed to, still trying to puzzle out what's going on. Gale grins.
"I was actually going to ask you if I could borrow Lady Madge," he says and Katniss nods a little too eagerly. Gale turns back to Madge.
"Will you join me Lady Madge?" he asks and she smiles.
"Of course, with your permission, Majesty."
"Yes, yes, go on," Katniss says, waving her away. Gale takes her hand and Madge stands, entirely flummoxed. What on Earth is going on? Why is Katniss acting so strange? And why does she want me to dance with Gale, when she shut Marvel down so quickly? Madge looks back at Katniss as Gale leads her through the crowd and she is watching them anxiously, teeth biting into her lip. Why is she so concerned about this?
And then it hits her. Madge feels her mouth drop open.
She wants me to marry Gale.
It is obvious now, Madge can't believe she almost missed it. That's why Katniss didn't want her to dance with Marvel but practically threw her at Gale. Her mother is demanding Katniss find Gale a wife, but she doesn't want to choose one for him.
Perhaps she's noticed how much time we spend together, or perhaps someone's mentioned it to her, maybe even Gale. Perhaps she is hoping to encourage us so that Gale will pick me himself.
I am the richest heiress in England, what better prize for Katniss' most loyal cousin? And he can certainly be trusted to keep my claim to the throne safe.
Yes, yes, that has to be it.
Madge almost feels like laughing. I've done it, I've won. With Katniss in her corner, she cannot lose. I have the Queen, Gale will not be long in following.
I've won.
Gale stops and Madge looks around in curiosity, so caught up in her thoughts she hadn't even realized where he was leading her. They are standing out in a hallway, the bright lights of the ball spilling out over them. The music is quieter here and Madge looks up at Gale in confusion, his smile sweet and excited.
"I know gift giving is meant for New Year's, but I couldn't wait. This is for you," he says and hands her the book.
"For me?" she asks, blinking in surprise. Gale nods eagerly, maybe a bit nervously and Madge takes it with wide eyes.
"The Encyclopedia of Heraldry," she reads, running her fingers over the golden letters embossed on the front.
"I remember when we spoke of it, you sounded very interested. I thought you might like this," he says, rubbing the back of his neck and Madge can feel her stomach clench. She squeezes the book in her hands, nails sinking into the leather cover. She looks back up at him and she is honestly, genuinely touched, her heart shivering in her chest.
"Thank you," she whispers and foolishly wants to cry. He shuffles his feet and shrugs.
"It was nothing," he says, but he won't meet her eyes and she bites her lip.
"I have something for you too," she remembers suddenly and he stares at her in shock. He looks very young, surprise making all his edges soft and smooth. She's not quite sure why, but she can't look away from him as she reaches into the pouch hanging from her girdle, the silver of his eyes brighter than she's ever seen. She pulls out the handkerchief she'd made, fingers sliding over the cool silk.
"You made this for me?"
She nods. He blinks, clearly caught off guard and maybe touched. She holds it out for him and he takes it tentatively, both of their fingers knotted in the fabric for one moment that seems to last and last and last.
"Thank you," he says quietly, more sincere now than she's ever heard him. She lets go, her fingertips burning, and he spreads it out between his hands, eyes taking in the border of white roses outlined in silver, the great double headed eagle in the centre and his motto carefully stitched in Latin beneath it.
"Thank you," he repeats, looking into her eyes and Madge nods, not quite able to find words. She hugs his book to her chest and this here, this is the end.
Not that Madge realizes that quite yet.
After her book is safely conveyed up to her room by a summoned Annie, Gale leads Madge back into the hall.
There is a humming in her veins that has nothing to do with wine and they spin onto the dance floor, both of them smiling like idiots. They move in perfect sync, standing a bit too close for propriety but Madge doesn't care. She feels bright and shiny, this Christmas so, so much better than last time.
She has won Katniss, she's winning Gale and soon, soon everything will fall perfectly into place.
(but is that really the only reason you're so happy?)
(Gale falls into bed that night, his entire body singing. He tucks Madge's handkerchief beneath his pillow and he can still see her face as she accepted his gift, sweet and lovely and touched.
He knows it's silly of course, to feel things when he's with Madge, but he can't help it.
She is beautiful yes, he'd have to be blind to think otherwise, but he's seen plenty of pretty girls, has even had a dalliance or two. This though, this doesn't feel quite like that. With Madge, as much as he knows it's crazy, he wants to talk with her, to listen to every word she says. He wants to walk with her, likes the way she fits against his side. He wants to make her smile, laugh.
It's insane, really, she's a Lancastrian. Friendly, yes, he could accept that. But this, whatever this is?
He's lost his mind)
(and strangely, he doesn't mind nearly as much as he should)
Madge attends on the Queen the next morning feeling decidedly ill. She feels lightheaded, her stomach fluttering uncomfortably and often feels as if she might swoon. It can't have been the food, as no else appears sick and she knows she hadn't overindulged in the wine, so the precise cause of her illness remains a mystery. Whatever it is, she certainly cannot afford to fall sick now, when things with Gale are progressing so nicely. She thinks back to his gift last night, the sweetly vulnerable look on his face and feels her knees go weak again, a spell of faintness coming over here. This is ridiculous, whatever I've caught, I have to kick it soon.
"Lady Madge," Katniss calls and Madge shakes her head to clear it.
"Yes, your Majesty?" she asks and can't help but look at her differently, knowing now that Katniss values her as a potential bride for Gale.
"I would like you to write to inform everyone on this list of the upcoming betrothal of my cousin Lady Posy of Salisbury to Henry Grey, son and heir of the Earl of Kent," Katniss says, a hint of defeat shadowing her words. Madge curtseys deeply and takes the offered list.
"Of course, your Majesty."
She retreats over to a writing desk, her head swirling with thoughts. Katniss has given into this demand of her mother's, will the rest soon follow? And Posy, she's not yet six years old. I wonder how Gale will feel about this.
Madge shakes her head. It doesn't matter what Gale thinks, she tells herself sternly.
(but still, she cannot help but wonder)
If you ask, Madge will tell you she stumbled upon Gale entirely accidentally, that she was not, under any circumstances, seeking him out. The fact that she finds him out in the stables, tending to his horse as he usually does this time of day, is pure coincidence.
Christmas had seen a heavy snowfall and Madge can feel it soaking through her boots as she hesitates at the stables' entrance, her eyes fixed on Gale's back. He is brushing his horse's mane and Madge can feel her stomach begin to writhe again, her disease coming fully to life. What is wrong with me? Why do I feel like this? And why am I hesitant to speak with Gale?
What is going on?
"Can I help you, my lady?"
Madge jumps and turns to see a groom to her right, bowing low. She frantically tries to think of a reason for her being there, one that has nothing to do with Gale.
"Oh, well, I um…"
"Lady Madge?"
Madge and the groom both turn towards Gale. He has stopped brushing his horse and is looking at her with a smile just starting to touch his lips. Madge's stomach starts to boil.
"Lord Gale," she greets with a curtsy and the groom bows before moving away. She straightens and heads towards him, her illness tickling beneath her skin.
"And what brings you here, Lady Madge?" Gale asks with a smile, arms folded as he leans back against his horse's pen.
"Merely taking in the winter air," she answers with far more confidence than she feels and his grin widens.
"It that so?"
"Indeed it is. I was simply taking a stroll and then I thought perhaps you might be lonely, with only your horse as company."
"How very kind of you. And brave, to go for a walk in such cold. I thought it was only us Northerners who'd choose to go out on days like today."
Madge shrugs.
"I could leave if you'd like," she offers, her own smile starting to threaten her face and Gale grins even wider.
"Now I didn't say that. In fact, I'm just about done. Would you allow me to escort you back to the castle?"
Madge makes a show of considering it before nodding.
"A gracious offer, my lord. I most heartily accept."
"Wonderful," Gale says and pushes off the stall. He bends over in an exaggerated bow and Madge matches it with an overdone curtsy of her own, the both of them just barely keeping a lid on their laughter. He offers her his arm and she takes it, warmth somehow passing through both their clothes to heat her skin. He leads her back out into the snow and Madge barely even notices the damp chill in her boots.
"And I suppose you coming out here has nothing to do with Posy's betrothal?" he asks and Madge bites her lip.
"No, but...since you mention it, how is Posy?"
"Well, she was excited. That is until she talked to Rory, who insisted being married was terrible. Now she's very adamantly against it."
Madge frowns.
"Rory? He's barely even married."
Gale snorts.
"That's what I said."
"And you?" Madge asks, "How are you taking it?"
Gale doesn't answer for a moment and Madge moves closer, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.
"It's a good marriage, it'll make Posy a countess one day. Henry's only a year older than she is and he seems nice, for an almost seven year old. Posy won't be living with him for years yet, really, I don't have any reason to be anything but happy."
"But?"
"But I don't know. I suppose I wish she had more time to be just Posy and not Henry Grey's wife."
"At least they'll have plenty of time to get to know each other," she offers and he nods, his smile somewhat forced.
"Yes, there is that. I just…I think when I have children, I would want them to wait a little longer to get married."
Madge nods.
"Me too."
Gale turns to look at her, their eyes meeting.
"I'm glad we agree," he says, voice soft and Madge nods, a strange mix of feelings swelling up inside her.
"So am I," she whispers and she can understand the victory surging through her, but there is something almost like fear in her blood as he smiles, his eyes sweet and silver like the stars.
This is what I wanted, I'm winning.
So why am I so afraid?
1469 arrives in a squall of frost and snow.
The residents of Windsor are forced to retreat within the safety of the castle walls as the storm rages outside, the wind howling angrily. Madge and Annie curl up by the fire, wrapped snugly in furs and blankets as they pour over Madge's new heraldry book.
She has been almost afraid to look through it, the pages so delicate and beautiful. Each one is dedicated to a different badge, accompanied by a stunning painting and underneath, in careful, meticulous script, is a description of its symbolism and use. At the back are explanations of the various colours one might use and what they represent, as well as other details for crafting and understanding badges and coats of arms. It is magnificent, truly, and Madge feels a sort of glow in her chest every time she thinks of it.
She has it open on her lap and Annie leans against her shoulder to better see each beautifully illuminated page. Madge lingers over the painting of the bell, that familiar ache filling her chest. Oh father…I miss you, I miss you so much.
They go through each badge one by one until they reach the wyvern, Annie's finger gently tracing its outline. It's a bit more stylized than the one she's always stitching and Madge feels her heart squeeze at the melancholy bleeding from her eyes.
Oh Annie
"We shall have to come up with our own badges now," Madge says, trying to lighten the mood and Annie manages a sad sort of smile.
"Yes, we should."
Madge nods and can't manage a smile of her own, the cold in her bones having nothing to do with the storm outside.
Oh Annie, I'll make this better somehow, I swear.
No matter the cost, I promise.
Madge's illness continues unabated, except, well, that's not entirely true.
It fades almost entirely, flaring up only when she's with Gale. Whenever he smiles or laughs or holds her hand, she can feel it overtaking her, her stomach fluttering, her skin tingling, her legs turning into pudding. It doesn't take long for her to face the truth.
Guilt, that must be it. That stupid, stupid guilt she'd felt ever since his apology except worse now. The nicer he becomes, the worse she gets and that has to be it. She tells herself, over and over, that she has nothing to be guilty about, that he has brought this on himself, but her symptoms do not vanish, seem to intensify with every passing day.
He is the enemy. No matter how kind he is now, that does not change what he's done.
(this is her mantra, her constant refrain, but where she once burned with conviction, she now feels only a brief tickling of flame in her chest)
(it is not that she has forgiven the Yorkists, she hasn't, that inferno still boiling her blood, but maybe, just maybe, blaming Gale for all their crimes is becoming harder and harder and harder)
He is the enemy
(but what if he isn't?)
The horrid January weather abates briefly but Madge does not enjoy it, sitting and embroidering in the Queens' chambers instead while Katniss pours over a tall stack of papers. The silence between them is somewhat awkward without Prim to fill it, but she is off riding with Rory and Philippa, who seem to get on best when there is someone between them. It is not that Madge has any great urge to speak with Katniss, but this quiet is anything but comfortable. They have never really been alone together and now that she knows Katniss favours her for Gale's wife, she cannot keep tension from creeping over her. She wants to make a good impression, wants to ensure she remains at the top of Katniss' list of potential brides, but she knows so little of Katniss she is unsure what she should do. Madge embroiders a cushion and what's your idea of the perfect wife Katniss? What should I do to impress you?
A knock sounds at the door and Madge would be lying if she said she was anything other than relieved. Perhaps it is someone who wishes to speak with her, at least then we won't be alone anymore. She stands and heads over, sighing a little when she opens the door. Only a courier. He is holding a small package and he bows, snow tumbling from his hat to the floor.
"A gift my lady, from the Earl of Kent for Her Majesty the Queen."
"Thank you," Madge says as she takes it, passing him a coin as tip. He bows again and leaves while Madge shuts the door and turns back to Katniss.
"A present, your Majesty, from the Earl of Kent," she says, walking back into the room.
"Oh," Katniss says without looking up from her pile, "what is it?"
Madge removes the letter on top and places it aside for Katniss to read later. She opens the package and gasps quietly. Inside is a lovely necklace of gold with emeralds, pearls and diamonds.
"A necklace, your Grace," Madge says, holding it up.
"It's beautiful," Katniss says without turning her head, "Please draft a letter to the Earl expressing my thanks."
"Of course, your Majesty," Madge says with an nod and places it back in its box. She puts it over by the Queen's jewel coffers, but not inside, only Prim and Katniss having a key to those.
"Will you wear it to the wedding?" she asks as she makes her way over to a writing desk in the corner. Katniss sighs softly.
"I suppose I must," she says in a somewhat defeated tone and Madge frowns. She remembers Katniss' words I'm just so tired of everyone telling me what to do and cannot help another flutter of pity in her heart. Not even the choice of which jewels to wear is left up to her.
"I think it would look lovely with the new gown of brocade the tailor just finished," Madge offers and Katniss looks up from her paperwork to blink at her.
"Really?"
"Oh yes," Madge nods, "especially with the right earrings. Perhaps the emeralds you wore at Christmas?"
"Oh," Katniss says, looking entirely lost, "I have no idea. Prim or my mother usually arranges what I wear."
"Of course, you are very busy," Madge agrees and Katniss shrugs.
"I suppose, but even if I wasn't, I have no idea how to decide what goes together and what doesn't," she admits, sounding somewhat embarrassed.
"Oh, well, I could show you if you like," Madge offers and Katniss stares at her.
"You wouldn't mind?"
"Not at all your Majesty, it would be my pleasure," she assures her with a smile.
"Oh, alright. I think, I think I would like that Lady Madge, thank you," Katniss says, voice a little shy and then, for the first time Madge can remember, she smiles. It is quite small, a little unsure, but there and for a moment, Madge does not hate Katniss of York.
(but only for a moment)
(she cannot afford anything more)
February arrives and with it, Posy's wedding.
It is to be held in Windsor's St George's Chapel and Madge wears blue damask and a great deal of pearls. She helps Katniss dress and then Marvel arrives to escort her to the ceremony, her smile a little less forced now that she knows Katniss does not favor their match. He leads her into the chapel, the sky blue silk of his doublet sparkling with golden thread. Madge takes a seat beside her mother and Marvel presses against her, his hand coming to rest on her thigh. She can feel her skin crawl, can feel an angry sickness start to boil in her stomach but she knows it will only end poorly for her if she tries to protest. For now at least, Madge is still at the mercy of these Yorkists. Would any of them believe her over Marvel? Would they bother to do anything even if they did? She doubts it. But this is only for a little longer; soon they'll be at her mercy instead.
The remainder of the royal family files in, filling up the front row with Katniss and Prim arriving last of all. The not quite seven year old groom is led out by his richly attired father, his own crimson doublet decorated with embroidered leaves. Gale brings out Posy amidst a swell of music, the little bride bedecked in a gown of silver with a pretty band of pearls in her hair. Gale hovers anxiously behind her throughout the ceremony and Madge cannot stop her heart from squeezing.
Oh Gale
Henry fumbles with the ring and looks rather disgusted at the idea of kissing his new wife, while Posy pouts throughout, but finally the ceremony ends and the newlyweds leave the chapel hand in hand. Katniss rises to follow them and so too do the rest of the guests, ready to feast and dance all night long. Marvel takes Madge's arm, his fingers hot and leans in close, his breath kissing her ear.
"Soon, my sweet sister, we too shall stand before a priest."
Madge does not answer him, cannot. She tries to keep her fear at bay with the reassurance that Katniss prefers Gale, but that offers little comfort. She may prefer Gale, but if Marvel's the only one asking…
No, Gale is fond of me. Perhaps more than fond.
Katniss will never agree to Marvel's suit.
(she can't)
Madge moves through a stately bassedance with Marvel while Gale partners his mother and she cannot help but watch him, eyes tracing over his every line. Will we marry Gale? I wonder what kind of husband you'll be. A good one, I think.
(faster Gale faster)
(Madge shakes her head until the memory recedes)
Gale dances with Posy next and then his two sisters-in-law and Madge feels an odd swirling in her stomach, the idea of a future with Gale starting to expand behind her eyes. This is what I've been working towards and now it's finally here. I shall be safe, Mother shall be safe. And we shall have power, real power, power Gale will lovingly give.
So why I do feel so…strange?
The dance comes to an end and Gale turns to Madge, a bright smile on his face that fills her with heat.
"May I have the pleasure of this dance, Lady Madge?" he asks, eyes shining and Madge curtsies, her own smile glowing.
"Of course," she says and his grin widens. He takes her hand in his and leads her out onto the dance floor, the other couples already moving through a gaillard.
"You know, Posy was overjoyed at your compliments about her dress. I honestly thought she might pass out from the excitement when she told me about it," he laughs and Madge smiles fondly.
"Well, it's all true. She's adorable, I just want to hug her and never let go," she admits and then flushes in embarrassment. What was that? When she finally looks back at Gale, he is smiling, a soft, warm kind of smile that makes her skin burn.
"I'm going to miss you," he says and something flutters beneath her ribs. His words sink in and she frowns.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, just that I have to go up north to see to my properties. I've been away a very long time, they might have burned down for all I know," he jokes but Madge does not smile, her good mood plummeting.
"How long will you be gone?" she asks in genuine dismay and Gale squeezes her hand.
"Not too long I think, there's always so much that needs to be done here."
Madge nods and tries not to think about how much ground Marvel may gain with Gale so far away. Worse, what if Gale should find someone else while they are apart? He might forget all about her.
(faster Gale faster)
(God yes)
"Well, I hope you will not be gone from us for too long, Lord Gale," she manages, disappointed and hollow. He squeezes her hand again.
"I hope so too."
He spins her and a thoughtful look comes over his face, in contrast to her morose expression.
"Perhaps, and I hope you do not think me too forward for asking, I might write to you?"
Madge looks up at him in surprise and he grins a little nervously.
"The Queen is not the best at correspondence, but I should like to be kept apprised of court happenings, if of course, you think you will have the time. I know you are very busy."
Madge smiles widely, a rush of hope filling her up. He cannot forget her if they are in contact during his absence and who knows? Perhaps he will write to Katniss and let her know just how close they still are. That should stall any hope of Marvel's.
"I would be most delighted to, Sir Gale. Indeed, I do hope you will keep me informed as to which of your castles are still standing."
Gale grins a little crookedly and her knees suddenly feel weak.
"It's a deal then," he says, twirling her again.
a deal with the devil, some might say
(but then, which of us is the devil?)
They may be cousins by marriage, but Madge knows it wouldn't be particularly seemly of her to see Gale off. Instead she watches him ride away from a window, looking quite fetching in deep forest green. She sends a page off with a quick note for him, a little thing about how she hopes he will have a good journey and that she cannot wait to hear from him. She sees him read it, sees him grin and she smiles a little herself, her stomach tying itself in knots.
She makes her way back to Katniss' chambers when he's left and knows that even without him here, that does not mean she cannot further her goals. Gale might not give Katniss any reason to continuing supporting their potential marriage, but that doesn't mean Madge cannot. She will have to be subtle of course, but she will make certain Katniss has no reason to switch her allegiance to Marvel's cause.
She is set upon Gale and she will have him as her husband.
(for more reasons, perhaps, than even she would admit)
"I think I've finally settled on a badge of my own," Madge says confidently and Annie looks over in curiosity.
"Oh?"
Madge nods.
"Yes. I shall have my father's bell, paired with a strawberry."
Annie stands from where she'd been mending the hem of one of Madge's gowns and heads over, coming to stand by Madge's shoulder. She looks down at all of Madge's crude sketches and nods.
"I should have guessed it'd be a strawberry," she teases and Madge sticks out her tongue.
"I did choose it for the meaning, you know."
"Oh really?" Annie asks, eyebrows up.
"Yes," Madge says with a mock glare, "Berries as a whole mean liberty, felicity and peace while strawberries specifically mean hope and joy."
"Very nice."
"I think so. And what about you, have you settled on a badge?"
"Oh, uh, yes," Annie says, heading back over to her work. "I think, a dolphin maybe. With a crown of rosemary."
Madge nods as Annie picks up the dress.
"That sounds lovely," she says and Annie smiles, but there's something a little sad in the corner. Madge looks at her with a frown but doesn't prod. Instead she waits until she is alone in bed that night and opens up her heraldry book, scanning quickly through the pages.
"Dolphin," she reads, "swiftness, diligence, salvation, charity and love. Well that's nice. Now, rosemary, rosemary, ah rosemary! Fidelity, loyalty, enduring love and remembrance. Oh."
Madge squeezes the book and oh oh oh. No wonder she looked so sad. She looks out her window at the moon and wherever you are Finnick, please tell me you love her just as much.
(Annie doesn't sleep much that night, instead she stitches her newfound badge onto her pillow, right beside a wyvern made of silver thread.
We'll be together again someday Finnick, I believe that)
(I have to)
Dear Lady Madge,
I most heartily commend myself to you and am happy to report that I have arrived in Cheshire without trouble. My first stop is Kingsley Castle and I am pleased to say it is still standing. To be entirely fair, this was the one I was least concerned about, as we did pay it a visit during the Queen's progress. This is in fact only the second time I've been here, can you believe it? It was a gift from the Queen and that stop on her progress was the only chance I've had to see it. It seems to be a nice enough place and running smoothly, so I do not think I will tarry here very long. I am off to Yorkshire next and that is where most of my property is, in fact, it is where I did most of my growing up. I must confess I have missed it all these long months away. It will be good to be home, if only briefly. But enough about me, what is happening in London? Any news? Any scandals? And how is Posy taking to her married life? I've written her, but I know from past experiences that she is not the most informative of correspondents. I would ask after Rory, but I think it a safe bet that he still despises every part of being wed. Not that I can understand why, I can see no cause for misery in Philippa, but then, I'm not twelve. At least Vick doesn't seem too upset. I suppose one sibling out of three is better than none. And what of Marvel? Has he secured himself a wife? He has been hinting rather heavily that he has a bride in mind, has he wooed her? You must be tired of all my questions, so here is my last one. How are you, Lady Madge? I hope you have been well and things at court have not been too exciting, though I find myself doubting that quite a bit.
I hope this letter finds you in good spirits, yours faithfully,
G of Salisbury
My good Earl of Salisbury,
I send this to you accompanied with well wishes and prayers for a pleasant and safe journey. I am indeed in good health, thanks be to the Lord, and I pray that you are as well. I am most happy to hear nothing is amiss up in Cheshire, though I do not envy your trip farther north. It is cold enough here in London, I cannot imagine how frigid it will be in Yorkshire. I know you will think me foolish, but please do me the favor of dressing quite warmly. I would sleep much more soundly if you did. Thank you in advance for your consideration.
Rory is still opposed to Philippa, but I would not worry overmuch. Lady Primrose is fully committed to making them get along and I have full faith in her. Why, just yesterday Rory appeared only slightly grudging when inviting Philippa to a round of cards, which is certainly an improvement. Posy too seems to be warming up to Henry, as they both share a love of cuddly animals. In fact, I think they have adopted a kitten. His name is Booties. As for Marvel, if he has procured a wife, he has not done so publicly. As far as I am aware, he is still just as unwed as when you left.
I can understand your yearning to be home, I too often miss Bedford Castle. We moved around very little when I was a child and I have always considered Bedford to be home. I am hoping to one day soon persuade Haymitch to move us there, at least for a little while.
I can think of no new scandals to report, unless you count Glimmer Mowbray bursting into tears in the Great Hall when Lord Howard accidentally got soup on her new sleeve at dinner. It was quite the trauma.
I look forward to your next letter, yours truly,
Lady Madge of Bedford
Katniss hosts a sort of reception, invitations sent out to any noble or knight who wishes to attend. The whole court is abuzz with what its purpose could be and Madge cannot help the tight bundle of nerves she can feel in her chest. She joins everyone else in the Great Hall, Katniss in royal blue and seated on her gilt edged throne. Servers offer refreshments and everyone engages in idle chitchat, but Madge can barely concentrate on Marvel's words, her mind wrapped up in why Katniss would have called them all here.
What could it be?
"And then he fell right off his horse!" Marvel chortles and Madge laughs even though she has no idea what he's talking about. A sudden hush settles over the room, interrupting Marvel's next anecdote and Madge feels her throat squeeze. She follows everyone's gaze to see Katniss has risen from her throne.
"We have glad tidings to announce," she tells them and Duchess Elizabeth's smile turns smug. Madge bites her lip. She's arranged a marriage for someone else, but who? She thinks of Gale up in Yorkshire, a fist closing over her heart. Please not him, please not him.
"We wish to announce the betrothal of our most beloved sister, Lady Primrose."
Madge gasps a little and Katniss beckons Prim forward. They stand together, Prim smiling brightly and oh Prim; I wonder how far away you'll go.
"In a few months time, she will wed His Grace the Duke of Buckingham."
Madge feels her mouth pop open and she looks at Duchess Elizabeth, whose expression is entirely thunderstruck. Darius Stafford, the seventeen year old Duke of Buckingham, bows to the assembled nobles with a jovial expression and Katniss smiles somewhat tightly, but there's something in her eyes a little like triumph. Her mother beside her is fuming, a blotchy red climbing up her neck.
Well, Madge thinks, Katniss has certainly put the Duchess in her place.
But is that a good thing? Or bad?
(Annie hears from one of the serving boys that the Queen's sister is going to marry the Duke of Buckingham and has to clap a hand to her mouth to keep from puking. She staggers back to her room, memories she has tried so hard to repress slinking back into her mind, covering her up like cobwebs and rusty chains.
My lady, wake up, wake up!
What...what is it?
There are men here, an army. They're burning everything!
She collapses into her bed and she can smell it still, the fires, can still hear the screaming. She can see the Stafford knot, sigil of the Dukes of Buckingham, on every soldier as they rampage, cutting down her grooms and clerks and servants, loading valuables up into carts and dragging off shrieking maids. She remembers standing there in horror, watching the world collapse around her.
Help me! God help me!
Have mercy, please! Please, have mercy on us, I beg you!
No! Let go of me, let go!
Annie covers her ears with her hands but the voices don't stop, the mayhem and carnage still flooding behind her eyes. I'm sorry, I'm sorry she thinks through her tears and she remembers running through the chaos, desperate to find the Duke. He was the only one who could stop this madness and she had to believe he would. He was young, younger even than her and his father and grandfather had both died for Lancaster, even if he now fought for York. He must be trying to prove his loyalty, but he would stop if she asked, if she pleaded.
She remembers finding him, remembers throwing herself on her knees and begging, hands clasped and face wet with tears. She'd stayed there for over an hour but his expression had never changed, no hint of kindness in that hard mask. She'd pleaded for mercy, clemency but he'd given her none.
Annie presses her face into her pillow, feels the embroidery against her cheeks and she can still feel the bruise on her arm from where he'd grabbed her. He'd yanked her up, so close she can still smell the veal on his breath.
You are a traitor's spawn and your father is doing the Devil's work, he'd whispered, voice like ice, There shall be no mercy for any of you. You must pay for your treachery.
He'd dragged her out into the courtyard in nothing but her nightgown and the soldiers there had laughed and jeered, and it echoes now inside of her, each crude remark and bawdy joke. She can still feel their hands on her as she passed, each one grabbing and fondling whatever they could reach. The Duke had forced her up onto his horse and she remembers as they rode away, remembers her last sight of Hedingham Castle, fires licking up its walls and smoke wafting past its turrets.
Help us! Help us please!
Lord deliver us!
God, God, God
Annie can barely breathe through her sobs, her nails drawing blood from where she digs them into her head and why can't I forget? Why won't these nightmares finally fade?
He never let her change the whole way to London and when they'd finally reached the capital, he'd thrown her in a cell and locked the door. She had been so sure he would kill her and everyday sitting in the dark she'd been sure the executioner would come for her, even though she'd never committed any crime. No one would answer any of her questions and she sometimes wondered if the Duke had forgotten about her, the guards who fed her being the only people she ever saw.
There was no reason for him to lock her up, no reason to keep her a prisoner and they'll never let me out, I'm going to die here.
Annie slides to the floor, a heaving mess, her pillow clutched to her chest.
You are no one now Anne, but I can get you out of here if you agree to serve my step-daughter.
She can remember the door opening, remembers the sad sad look on Lord Haymitch's face as he'd knelt beside her.
Her name is Madge, she's about your age and her father fought with yours. I think she will be a good friend to you.
She remembers the way he'd placed his cloak around her shaking shoulders, remembers how the light from the hall had shone all around him.
And I'm sorry about all of this.
I'm so very sorry)
Madge and Prim stand awkwardly in the hall as Katniss and Duchess Elizabeth fight, their words harsh and furious.
"How dare you Katniss! How dare you!"
"How dare you, Mother! I am Queen here!"
"You are a fool! An idiot girl who will not be Queen for very much longer, thanks to your own stupidity!"
"Get out! I will suffer this abuse no longer!"
"You will rue this day Katniss, do you hear me? You will rue it!"
"Get out!"
Duchess Elizabeth comes flying out, her face red with rage. She storms past them into the hall and Katniss slams the door behind her, so hard a vase topples from a table. It crashes to the floor and Prim starts to cry, sobbing miserably into her hands. Madge wraps her in a hug and is this the beginning of the end? Is the Yorkist curse finally to be lifted?
And what happens if it does?
The whole court moves back to Westminster (all except Duchess Elizabeth, who, rumor has it, has been sent off to one of her late husband's castles), regardless of the slush and snow and sleet. The sky is an ugly gray when they set out, the wind bitter and Madge can feel that same bleakness inside herself, black dread bubbling inside of her at their imminent return to Westminster.
As one of only two ladies in waiting to the Queen, she has her hands full ensuring Katniss' things are properly unpacked once they arrive. The work is a blessing in a sense, distracting her from where they are and the sour memories that linger there. The one year anniversary of Katniss' victory is looming and with it, the anniversary of her father's death. Madge's whole body throbs with the thought of it and she prays each and every night that he has found the peace in paradise he could not find in life.
And in the dark where no one can see her, she whispers a promise.
I will avenge you father, I swear.
March creeps in with muddy weather and endless rainfalls and when Madge wakes up on her birthday, it takes her a moment before she realizes I am sixteen today.
She cannot help but think back to her last birthday as she stares up at the ceiling, that melancholy day in the waning moments of the war. A year later and the war is done and Madge has lost. The sharp sting has softened somewhat, but still, old resentment, rage and despair boil in her blood, a toxic reminder of all she has lost.
She tells herself all will be well soon, that she has a plan, one that will change everything. I am going to avenge you Father, Mother, Annie. I will avenge us all. She will marry Gale, she will use his influence to keep her loved ones safe and somehow, someway, she will set the King free and restore Lancaster to power.
It has been a year since my birthday and soon a year since our defeat. A year from now, she swears, everything will be different.
(she is right of course, but she'd never guess just how different)
Dear Madge,
Your last few letters have been ever so informative, I feel as if I am there in London instead of here in Yorkshire. Allow me to extend my most heartfelt thanks. You are invaluable truly; I shall have to do something very special for you when I return, to ensure you are properly rewarded for such diligence. You will be pleased to hear that my latest stop of Pickering Castle is still in good order. I am three for three so far. Not bad at all. My next stop is the one I'm most excited about, home to Middleham! You'd love it I think, but then, I am probably somewhat biased. It was my father's favourite of all our castles and though we moved around as I grew up, this was always our primary residence. It is our crown jewel and indeed, I have yet to find anywhere better. It is not as grand as some of Queen Katniss' palaces, but it has always come first in my heart. I suppose that must be how you feel about Bedford Castle. If you like, I could always put a word in with Haymitch; suggest that it might be a lovely place to stay, at least for a while. You know, and I cannot believe it has taken me so long to mention this, Rory recently sent me a letter and as baffling as it is, I think it may have included a compliment towards Philippa. Now, to be fair, it was a rather backhanded compliment, but still, I never thought I'd see the day. To quote "Vick's still rubbish at cards, it's worse than playing against Posy. I keep trying to teach him, but he's hopeless. Even Philippa picked it up faster than him." Like I said, not the most romantic of compliments, but I daresay we're making progress. On a lighter note, Posy has promised that if Booties has babies, one will be named in my honour. Apparently she had Henry swear on it, as they both share custody of course. It's good to know they're getting along better, even if she still refers to him as "a dirty boy that spends too much time playing in the mud". I wonder, can you confirm this? Does Henry spend an unnatural amount of time rolling in mud? I find myself oddly curious about it. Marvel, meanwhile, continues to assure me that he has found the perfect bride, one that will have me seething with jealousy. I am curious, I admit, but I am loathe to ask him and give him the satisfaction. You are certain you have heard nothing? He is my cousin and I love him, of course, but he does have a particular skill at bringing out my spitefulness. My mother would insist I go to confession and repent for such ill feeling towards my kinsman and I will, probably. I mean, I am sorry about feeling like this, but I fear it may be a simple consequence of our cousinly relations. I do not think we can help a bit of competition. And anyway, I should probably only repent if I plan on never doing it again, and I have little faith I will be able to resist an opportunity for a little one-upmanship. I am wicked certainly, but alas, I am only human and we are incapable of perfection. Marvel and I have always knocked heads, but in the end, I would die for him in a second. That should make up for it, shouldn't it? I have rambled on for too long probably, so I will end this here.
Yours most faithfully,
Gale of Salisbury
Sir Gale,
Never apologize for writing too much, I always enjoy every word. I am glad I have been of service, though there is no need for recompense. I have been happy to do it. I am, of course, entirely joyful that Pickering has not burned down in your absence and even more pleased that you will soon be home at Middleham. Though I know it is sinful, I must say I am a tad envious of your fortune in this matter. And if you do truly wish to reward my service, I would most graciously accept your word in Haymitch's ear. It is a dream of mine, to see Bedford again.
As for your wickedness, it appears I too have need of repentance. You may wish to one-up Marvel, but I have fallen prey to envy. Perhaps we should both attend confession together.
I do not think Henry spends any more time than any other boy in the mud, though I am no expert. He does play out in the yard most days and it does render him filthy, but this has always appeared to me as the usual exuberance of young boys. I look forward to meeting your namesake should it arrive, as I am sure Little Gale will be utterly adorable.
I am glad to hear of Rory's compliment and I am sure Prim would be as well. I am even more pleased to report that I have taken it upon myself to tutor Vick in card playing and he has shown marked improvement. Soon he shall be trouncing them all, I am sure.
Marvel is still as much a bachelor as always, if he is conducting marriage negotiations, he is keeping them very quiet. I do not believe he would invent a bride but I have entirely no idea who it might be. I have inquired many times, but he remains tight lipped. My apologies.
As I'm sure you have already been made aware, the negotiations for a treaty with the Scots has again stalled. Reliable reports say we were close this time, but alas, nothing has come of it. The Scottish ambassador has left in somewhat of a huff after a private audience with the Queen, I must confess I have no idea what passed between them. A rumor is rife at court that Her Majesty might marry the King's brother to smooth out tensions, but I consider this to be naught but gossip. The Duke of Albany is only fourteen and further, I do not think the English lords would be too keen to have a Scottish king upon their throne. The Queen has given no indication that she considers anything of the sort, so, at least for the time being, I must classify this as entirely fictitious.
A renowned painter from Italy has been commissioned to paint Her Majesty's portrait and I for one am very excited to see it. I hear he is greatly skilled.
I would write more, but the Queen is calling.
I hope to hear from you soon,
Madge of B
Madge,
I apologize for the manner of this letter, but I have little time. I am just about to move on to Middleham, but I did not want to wait for my arrival there to write you a response. I cannot see you needing repentance my lady; you are far too kind for any sin. I am more than happy to speak to Haymitch; I know how tragic it is to be away from home. I must extend my heartfelt thanks for your aid to Vick, I am fully confident that he will be an expert in no time under your guidance. I am not surprised things haven't worked out with the Scots, do they ever? I am sure Little Gale will be quite adorable, after all, he is a Gale. I must go now, but on one final note, I fully intend to pay back your kindness in writing to me. You may be happy to do it, but I doubt it is as happy as I am to receive it.
Most faithfully,
Gale
Ever since Prim's betrothal, there has been an air of melancholy hanging around Katniss, one even heavier than usual. Madge doesn't care (right? of course not), but it's hard spending everyday looking at Katniss' sad eyes. One afternoon when Prim has gone falconing with Philippa and Rory, Madge decides it is time to do something to cheer her.
"I must say, your Majesty, that I am quite glad Lady Primrose will not be leaving us," she says as she embroiders an undershirt and Katniss turns from the window to look at her. There is a defeated sort of exhaustion on her face, one that feels like a clamp on Madge's heart.
"My mother is not so pleased."
Madge is not sure what to say to that, after all, she wasn't meant to overhear any of their quarrels. The silence between them is tense and Madge curses herself. You were supposed to be making her feel better, not making everything worse.
"Gale writes of you often," Katniss says suddenly and Madge feels a flush climb her cheeks.
"Does he?" she asks, a tiny thrill burrowing in her stomach.
"Yes. I think he likes you very much."
"Oh," Madge breathes happily, biting her lip around a smile.
"Do you like him?" Katniss asks and Madge's eyes widen.
"Oh, I-"
"I'm sorry, that was rude of me, wasn't it?" Katniss asks and Madge hurriedly shakes her head.
"No, no, of course not, Your Majesty-"
"Yes it was, you're just not allowed to say so. No one is."
Madeg opens her mouth but doesn't know what to say. How different she is from Coriolanus…how very very different.
"I am sorry Lady Madge, forget I asked. Would you mind going to see the cook? I am curious as to what we shall be having for supper."
Madge nods, a tragic sort of sympathy filling her stomach.
"Of course, your Majesty."
Katniss nods, tries to smile and then turns back to the window. Madge stands to leave and she looks back just before she's out the door. She stares at Katniss' reflection in the glass and I should be pleased, shouldn't I? To see my enemy so unhappy?
So why aren't I?
"Would you like to come riding with Rory, Philippa and I?"
It had seemed like such a simple request and Madge, desperate to remain in good standing with the Yorkists, had accepted. But now, sitting on her horse in a breezy drizzle while Rory and Philippa bicker, she's beginning to think Prim only asked her along so she might have someone to suffer with.
"I'm so jealous of Gale. I wish I was old enough to go to my own properties alone," Rory says and Philippa scoffs.
"I wouldn't get too excited, it's not like it'll be anytime soon."
Rory scowls and Prim sends Madge a grimace.
"I'm almost old enough," he insists and Philippa rolls her eyes.
"You're twelve."
"Thirteen," Rory counters and Madge feels a headache coming on.
"Twelve," Philippa repeats, "you're birthday isn't for another two months."
Rory inhales angrily.
"Close enough," he snaps and Philippa gives him an unimpressed look.
"Well, I'm thirteen," she says loftily, tossing her pretty brown hair over her shoulder. Rory scowls some more.
"By four days," he retorts.
"Oh, I had no idea. I'm so sorry, Lady Philippa. Happy birthday," Madge says and Philippa smiles.
"Thank you, it's so nice to have someone wish you a happy birthday," she says, fixing Rory with a glare. He makes an aggravated noise.
"How was I supposed to know it was your birthday if you didn't tell me?"
A large slushy drop of water slides from the brim of Madge's hat onto her face, leaving a cold trail all the way to the tip of her nose. She sighs.
"You could have asked."
Rory opens his mouth but Prim hastily cuts him off.
"I wonder who could reach that tree over there first?" she asks and Rory and Philippa immediately lock eyes.
"Me!" Rory says, already starting off.
"As if!" Philippa calls, galloping after him. Prim slumps in her saddle.
"They're impossible," she says and Madge bites her lip.
"Well, you certainly have your work cut out for you."
"Ugh, I've just about given up. Every time I think I've made progress, they go and prove me entirely wrong," she complains, bringing her horse alongside Madge's.
"Oh you've definitely made progress, at least they're willing to do things together now," Madge says, reaching over to pat Prim's arm.
"Hah, does it really count if all they do is argue?"
"Well, some people do say that is a mark of hidden passion," Madge offers and Prim snorts.
"The only thing they have a passion for is infuriating each other."
Madge can't help but laugh and Prim giggles, pushing a few damp strands of hair out of her face.
"And speaking of passion," Madge says with a grin, "how are things with your betrothed?"
Prim's pale face turns instantly pink.
"Oh, oh it's…well," she trails off, giggling shyly and Madge nudges her.
"Oh come on. He is rather handsome, isn't he?"
Prim ducks her heads, cheeks burning darker but nods quickly.
"Yes, he is quite."
"He's taken you for quite a few walks, hasn't he?" Madge asks, lifting an eyebrow and Prim giggles some more.
"Yes, he thinks we should get to know each other."
"And?"
Prim sighs dreamily.
"And oh, he's marvelous Madge. Truly, he's charming and handsome and funny, and he's kind and oh, he's just lovely."
"Well, somebody's smitten" Madge teases and Prim's eyes widen, her cheeks red as a Lancastrian rose.
"Oh, well…" she giggles and Madge laughs a little.
"Oh don't be shy, who could blame you? He sounds perfect."
Prim nods excitedly.
"Oh he is, look what he just gave me," she says, pulling off her glove. On her finger is a gold band set with a large, heavy ruby. Madge nods in appreciation.
"It's beautiful."
Prim cradles it next to her heart but then her happy expression falls.
"You don't think…you don't think he'll find me too young?" she asks quietly, eyes wide and worried.
Madge frowns and squeezes her arm.
"Nonsense, you're almost fourteen. Most are considered a woman by then."
Prim nods slowly and bites her lip.
"I just…I'd hate to disappoint him."
Madge gives her her sternest look.
"Don't be ridiculous. What could he have to be upset about? You are the Queen's sister, beautiful, sweet and one of loveliest people I've ever met. If he is not delirious with joy, than I will have to consider him deranged."
Prim laughs and Madge gives her arm another comforting squeeze.
"No more worrying, alright? You are Darius will be very happy together, I'm sure. In fact, I hope when my time comes, I will be as well matched as the two of you."
"Of course you will, after all, you're going to marry Gale, aren't you?"
Madge's eyes widen and Prim blushes.
"It's just…it's so obvious how much he fancies you and Katniss approves and…and you like him too, don't you?"
Madge feels her face warm and this is just like with Katniss. That has to mean they're right about Gale, doesn't it?
"It's obvious, you know, when he looks at you. I've never seen him look at anyone like that. And he's never bothered to spend so much time with a girl that wasn't Posy or Katniss, even I've not had so much attention from him and I've known him all my life," Prim rambles and Madge feels her stomach flip over. "And he hates letter writing you know, hates it. Auntie Hazelle always has to nag him to make sure he answers all her letters, he's always all what do I say? Nothing enough happens to write about, I'm not ever doing anything exciting. That's ridiculous of course, but he's always been the worst, he usually writes only the shortest little things, if he even answers at all. But he writes to you every week and what's more, I've seen how fat some of those letters are when the courier brings them."
Madge's face feels like it's been set aflame and her stomach is like a stormy sea, tossing and turning. Prim's tone is serious when she continues.
"You've caught my cousin by the heart, Lady Madge. Please tell me he has not fallen alone."
Madge feels guilt like a dagger in her chest, but there is something else too, a pleasant warmth she cannot decipher.
"Who would not admire him?" she begins, unable to look Prim in the eye. "He is a valiant warrior, a noble Earl, one of the Queen's most trusted advisors. He has vast wealth and land, but he is also most comely and an excellent hunter. He is…" she trails off, a tight ball of something in her chest. All those things are true of course, but Madge bites her lip, that ball of something growing ever larger. He is…he is what?
She remembers him with Posy, the way he'd laughed with her, the way he'd smiled, all his worries melting away.
"He is kind and caring," she starts again, voice growing stronger.
She remembers his motto and how he'd looked as he spoke of his father that day at Windsor.
"He believes in truth and justice, he loves his family very, very much."
She remembers the book he'd given her, how he'd paid attention to her interest even when he hated her.
"He is generous and brave. Stubborn, but always honest. He is a good man. A very good man."
Madge feels a strange urge to cry and Prim smiles a little knowingly.
"I'm glad you think so. Gale could not have chosen a better lady," she says and suddenly grins wickedly. "And hopefully soon, he shall make you his countess."
Madge ducks her head in embarrassment.
"Oh hush you," she says, but there is laughter in voice.
"Why? You know, I'll be glad to have you as my cousin, officially. Through Haymitch, you're only my first cousin once removed, that's much too distant a relation," Prim says, taking her hand. Madge smiles, cannot help it, and though the sky is still gloomy, she feels almost as if the sun is beaming down directly on her.
(here is a secret, one Madge keeps even from herself)
(the more time she spends with these Yorkists, the less she hates them)
(in fact, the more time she spends with them, the more she begins to think maybe Coriolanus is the only one deserving of her hate)
(but this is a secret, one she'd never tell, not even to herself)
Dear Gale,
Have you reached Penrith? I hope all is well there and providence has continued to favor you. The weather here has been quite depressing, is it so awful up north? I suppose it must be colder, but is it so wet and miserable? Just the other day in fact, I went riding with Rory, Philippa and Prim and it was just dreadful. Grey, damp and chilly, ugh. I was sodden through in moments, it's a miracle we didn't catch our deaths.
Speaking of that ride in the woods, I've discovered Prim is very much besotted with her soon to be husband. She was instantly aflutter at the mere mention of him. I am quite happy for them of course, I would hate for her to marry a man she could not love. Moreover, I am very glad she will be staying in England with us, rather than going overseas. I know it may have meant a grander match, but then, a duke with royal blood is nothing to shrug at. It is rather selfish of me perhaps, to want her here rather than far away with a king as husband, but then, they do appear to be quite fond of each other, so at least my joy can be for her as much as it is for all of us.
Prim herself is rather curious about my own marriage plans, though I suspect her happy state has left her hoping we will all be as fortunate. She also expressed interest in your marital future and I must say, I too am curious. Is there any lucky lady who has caught your eye? I should think her the most fortunate woman in all the land if she has won your heart. And before you accuse me of only caring about material matters, know that I made a rather embarrassing speech about your qualities to Prim, though do not ask me to repeat it, I am mortified enough as is.
My mother would be utterly appalled if she knew I was asking you such questions, it is indeed very unladylike. I do hope you do not think less of me for it; I could never forgive myself if I did something to tarnish your opinion of me.
You are probably laughing at me now, behaving as foolishly as I am, so let us talk now of less heavy matters. You should know Rory is quite outraged due to Vick destroying him entirely at cards last night. It was a slaughter, truly. My tutoring appears to have borne fruit. Philippa was also quite pleased, which left Prim rather cross. She is as determined as ever to see them love each other, regardless of their resistance. I am not too worried, they are still young; they have plenty of time to grow an affection. I hope they do. Perhaps it is silly of me, but I have always been a romantic. I should wish everyone to find love in their marriages. I know I have always dreamt of a happy marriage to a husband I love.
Now that I have thoroughly bored you with what Marvel would surely deem women's talk, I shall bid you adieu. I wish there were more exciting things to report but nothing much has happened this week, I blame the cold. No one can possibly get up to anything when their very bones are shivering. Well, unless you count Glimmer Mowbray shopping around for a husband. If you're interested, she has dropped some none too subtle hints that you are the very top of her list. She is of good family and quite pretty, you could certainly do much worse. I would not recommend her manners, but then, perhaps I have only caught her on bad days.
Alright, enough is enough! I've spoken of nothing but marriage, what an impression I must have made!
Forgive me good sir, yours affectionately,
Madge
Dearest Madge,
You needn't apologize at all. Whatever topic you wish to write of, I am more than happy to read about. And I would never laugh at you, only with you. Nor do I think less of you, I could never. You may be entirely candid with me Madge, you need fear no censure. I shall keep the Lady Mowbray's offer under consideration, but I do not think it likely I will accept. I am sure her charms are considerable of course, but I must agree with you, I too would like love in my marriage. I always dreamt of having a marriage like my parents', my father always told me there was nothing better in life than to spend it with the woman you loved. I think he is right. As for Penrith, yes I have arrived and thankfully, all is well here. It is a rather impressive place; my father built it to defend against Scottish raids. The staff was a bit startled to see me, clearly I should have written ahead. The weather is a frozen mess; I fear you would definitely disapprove. It has snowed ceaselessly and the winds are fierce. I am used to colder weather, but even I must admit it is rather unpleasant this time around. Of course, I shall eventually move even farther north into Northumberland, so I must steel myself against the frigidness to come. You will be happy to know that I am bundling myself warmly as you requested. My mother has also expressed concerns that I may foolishly allow myself to freeze, please give her my assurances that I have absolutely no plans to do so, After all, I have given you my word and I never break my word. It is good to hear Darius and Prim are getting on, I have always liked him. I am glad too to hear she will be staying with us, I would not wish to see any of my family move so far away. And since you asked me, have you any plans for wedded bliss? Any particular gentleman tickling your fancy? If there is, make sure he is aware of how lucky he will be to have you as a wife. I cannot imagine any bride could bring her husband more, not just in wealth, but in personality as well. And I must say, I am offended you think I would accuse you of being mercenary. Though I am rather curious as to what you said to Prim. Are you sure you wouldn't like to regale with what it is about me you find appreciable? I promise to respond in kind. I have written to Haymitch about Bedford, specifically how I have heard it is a lovely place and I would not mind paying him a visit should he move his household there. I expect he will soon respond and I am sure my hint and yours will soon encourage him to move you there, at least for a while. Bedford Castle will be yours upon marriage and I cannot imagine any husband would refuse you time there, I know I could not. It is growing late here and the frost rather biting, so I think I shall have to retire for the evening. I promise to write again tomorrow, I have a ludicrous story to relate about a man and a pig I encountered on the road, you won't believe it.
I hope you are warm, yours ever faithfully,
Gale
(Gale seals her letter and smiles to himself. He thinks back to her words I should think her the most fortunate woman in all the land if she has won your heart and he hopes she means it.
He can imagine Thom before him; can imagine his wide eyed look and what he'd say if he knew what Gale was thinking. Have you descended into complete lunacy? She is a Lancastrian, the niece of Coriolanus himself! How can you even consider her?
At any point prior to now, Gale would certainly have agreed with imaginary-Thom, would have said much the same thing. But, mad as it is, Gale is not sure he could consider anyone other than Madge. It has been a year since Katniss won the day, months since he looked at Madge and saw her, truly, and things have changed much since then. He has changed.
Perhaps he is a lunatic, but if he is, he is not sure he has ever enjoyed anything more)
(Let me be mad, he thinks, as long as I might mad with Madge)
(what a difference a few months can make)
Marvel invites her for a walk and though Madge would like nothing more than to refuse, she knows she cannot. He pets her arm as he leads her around the muddy, melting garden and Madge's thoughts drift to Gale somewhere on the roads of Cumbria. She remembers when he took her for a tour of these very gardens and some might consider that the beginning.
(the beginning of what?)
"You know, I had a very special reason for bringing you out here," Marvel begins and Madge is wrenched back to the present, her blood chilling.
"Oh?"
He smiles, green eyes glittering.
"Yes. I have been trying to arrange an audience with the Queen to discuss us, but sadly, she is most busy. I was hoping that since you have so much more access to her, you might be able to convince Queen Katniss to see me. I am sure she would love to, after all, I am her dear cousin, one who has done much for her cause."
Madge's throat feels suddenly dry and she wonders if she's imagining the threat in his tone.
"I will see what I can do," she manages and he smirks, kissing each of her fingertips.
"See that you do," he whispers.
(Madge has been afraid of a great many things in her life, but there is something about Marvel that terrifies her in a way nothing else ever has)
(not even Coriolanus)
(At least once a week, a letter arrives from the Earl of Salisbury.
Annie watches as Madge opens each one eagerly, a silly smile on her face and a cold feeling creeps over Annie's skin. Madge looks forward to these letters in a way she never looked forward to the ones from her step-brother and there is a dread in Annie, a terror growing larger with every letter received and sent.
Madge reads each one several times, eyes sparkling and then she tucks them away in a pretty coffer on her desk. She writes him back immediately, cheeks pink and Annie knows what's happening though God, she wishes she didn't.
Madge tells her everything, everything except for anything to do with Salisbury. For months now, they have been spending time together and yet Madge has never breathed a word about it, kept this one thing close to her chest. Why? Worse, and Annie knows it is wrong of her, but sometimes she sneaks just a peek at some of Gale of Salisbury's letters and each one is less formal than the last, each one warmer and it is clear to see that this Gale is most happily infatuated with Madge. It comes across in every word he puts on paper and Annie wishes she could deny that Madge feels similarly, wishes with every fiber of her being, but she can't)
(in all her life, Annie has never felt so betrayed)
"I have good news," Haymitch announces as he enters his Duchess' chambers. Madge has taken advantage of her rare free time to spend it with her mother and they both stop their embroidery at his words.
"And what news is that, my lord?" her mother asks and Madge feels a tightness in her belly. Haymitch tosses his hat aside and actually smiles, a sort of bright energy seeming to infuse him.
"Her Majesty has asked me to travel to France to negotiate with King Louis."
He gives them a moment to digest this news and then continues on, his eyes almost sparkling.
"If I can secure a treaty with him, he will hand over the Lancastrians sheltering in his court and we can be free of their threat once and for all."
There is something like excitement in his voice, something a little like jubilation and Madge feels as if a bucket of ice water has been upended on her head. If he gets his hands on Cato…
"I will pray for your success," her mother says and Haymitch looks like he might burst with joy.
"I have been pushing for this for so long; I cannot believe she has finally agreed. Finally, we shall have peace."
Will we? And even if we do, will it be a peace worth having?
It is mid April when another letter from Gale arrives and she opens it hastily, entirely unaware of Annie's narrowed eyes.
Dearest Madge,
I regret to inform you that this is most probably the last letter I shall be writing to you. But fear not, good lady! Instead of any letters, you shall have me in the flesh instead. I should like to think you will find that agreeable. Katniss has called me back to court and as much as I have enjoyed our correspondence, I think I shall enjoy being with you in person much more. I have missed everyone these two months away, though it has been so nice to be home again. The north truly is the best part of England (though do not tell the Londoners I have said so). Katniss has promised that once everything has settled down at court, I may return here on a more permanent basis and I would be lying if I said I wasn't excited about that day. Still, it will be good to see everyone again. I have been meaning for some time to have a proper garden done at Middleham and I was wondering if you might be willing to help me supervise it? I can think of no one better for the task. Sadly, it will probably take me a week or two to actually reach London, being that I am all the way up in Northumberland and hope to make a last stop at my manor of Bisham in Berkshire. I plan to spend most of that travelling, which is why I won't be able to write. It is strange being here, as Marvel is everywhere. Not that I do not love my cousin, but truly, I have never seen so many peacock badges in all my life. It would be impossible, I think, to ever forget who was Earl of Northumberland. I have more I wish to say to you, much more, but I think I shall wait until I can say it to your face. As well, I have something for you; though do not bother to ask what, for I am determined to keep it a surprise.
Ever faithfully,
Gale
She reads it twice over and a smile lights her face, a happy bubble of excitement filling her up. He's coming back! She puts it with all his others and looks out her window at the pretty spring day, her spirits bright and soaring. She thinks back on his words and her insides grow warm, a pleasant heat kindling in her belly. Madge sinks onto her bed with a sigh and I've missed you he wrote, I shall enjoy being with you in person much more.
(not that she missed him of course)
(no, not at all)
Haymitch leaves a week later, the sky pale gray and spitting on their heads. He is eager and animated in a way Madge has never seen him and she feels the rain's chill all the way to her toes.
If Cato is locked away in the Tower…
"Godspeed to you, my lord husband," her mother says as they see him off and Madge nods absently, mind too thick with thought to manage any words of her own. Katniss is not present but Haymitch doesn't seem to mind, his face bright like a noonday sun.
"This nightmare will soon be over," he says confidently from atop his horse, a hint of almost awe in his voice. "I shall return, God willing, with a treaty of trade and friendship, a French husband for the Queen and the last of the Lancastrians."
But they aren't the last of the Lancastrians, are they?
No. For better or for worse, there's still us.
(God help us)
As soon as Haymitch and his entourage are gone, the entire court bursts into frenzied life.
It is like standing in the eye of as storm as the whole palace is scrubbed and cleaned and washed around her, the gardens pruned and weeded and brand new curtains hung over the windows. The city of London itself is swept and shined, white roses planted in every flower box and Katniss even commissions new jewels, picking out brooches, earrings and rings. Madge stares at all the activity, the new paint on the walls, the new rugs on the floor and the frantic shining of all the silverware, in utter bewilderment.
What in the world is going on?
"Oh Madge, there you are!" Prim calls, dashing down the hall towards her.
"What on Earth is going on?" she asks and Prim smiles in excitement.
"Oh, don't you know? Peeta of Burgundy of coming at the head of a diplomatic mission."
"Peeta of Burgundy?" Madge asks, still lost, and Prim nods eagerly.
"The youngest son of the Duke of Burgundy. We have never had a member of a ruling family come to visit, so everything has to be perfect!"
"Why wasn't I told sooner?" Madge asks and cannot help the hint of annoyance in her tone.
"Oh," Prim says, her mood seeming to drop, "well, we didn't…we didn't want you to mention it to Haymitch."
"He doesn't know?"
"Oh, well, it's just…we didn't want it to affect his negotiations," Prim says with a false laugh. Madge frowns. Something isn't right here.
"But enough of that, you are needed in the Queen's wardrobe. Peeta of Burgundy has already landed in Dover, he will be here in a matter of days and you must ensure every one of Katniss' dresses are faultless. There is no time to waste!" Prim exclaims and hurries off. Madge watches her go and something is definitely wrong here. But what?
Two days later everyone is dressed in their very best, word having reached them that Peeta of Burgundy will be arriving in London that very afternoon.
Madge and Prim help Katniss into a magnificent black gown spangled with diamond stars and her prettiest crown, her skin dusted with gold and her hair woven with precious gems. She looks magnificent, every inch a queen but there is definitely worry in her eyes, but then, that isn't a surprise. This is her first real meeting with Europe's rulers, it is no wonder she is nervous.
"Alright, Prim please go and ensure Peeta's rooms are ready for him and Madge, check in with the cook will you? I want to be certain everything is ready for the feast tonight," Katniss says, fidgeting with her dress. Madge and Prim curtsy, Katniss fiddling anxiously with her rings.
"Right away, Your Majesty," they chorus and she barely seems to hear them, sending them off with a distracted smile. They both set off on their tasks and Madge feels almost as if she'll be ill, Katniss' worry seeming to have infected her too. I wonder what this Peeta is like.
She arrives at the kitchens and the cook and all his staff look extremely harassed, but they assure her everything will be ready in time for this evening's welcoming feast. Madge thanks them and makes her way to Katniss' throne room, a darker worry coming to mind. Haymitch is one of Katniss' foremost advisors, they even call him "Queenmaker". How could she have left him in the dark for this? Yes, they had argued over her lack of ladies, but that cannot be enough, can it? After all, she has trusted him to head the delegation to France.
What is going on?
"I wonder, what has the Queen's lady so deep in thought?"
Madge blinks back into the moment and turns.
"Gale?' she asks, so surprised she doesn't even make use of the proper address. He grins and Madge's eyes trace over him, taking in the windswept hair and sun tanned skin. He walks towards her and her legs feel oddly like jelly. Is he taller?
"Hello," he says brightly, his smile growing. Madge feels her stomach flip over itself.
"You're back," she nearly whispers and she has the strangest urge to touch him, as if she does not believe he is real. He nods.
"Katniss wanted me here for Peeta of Burgundy's arrival, so here I am. And as promised, I've brought you a gift."
His eyes glow with excitement and Madge sinks into them for a moment, bubbles in her veins. She shakes her head.
"Oh no, I couldn't," she begins, unsure exactly why she's refusing and he laughs, her heart skipping in her chest.
"I most humbly beseech you to accept, Lady Madge. I will be heartbroken if you don't."
There is a teasing in his voice, but sincerity too and she feels so odd, seeing him again.
"Here," he says gently, taking her hand and placing his gift in her palm. She looks down and gasps. It is a brooch made of gold and covered in white enamel, fashioned into the shape of a heart.
"It's…it's beautiful," she breathes and Gale moves a little closer. He touches her cheek softly and she feels a fire light beneath her skin.
"Turn it over," he whispers and she does, heart stopping at the words etched on the back.
I am yours wholly.
"Lord Gale, I…"
"Gale! Gale, is that you? Katniss was worried you wouldn't get here in time," Prim's voice calls from down the hall and Gale moves away, Madge feeling as if she might fall over.
"It's me. I'm here, don't worry," he calls back and then he turns to Madge.
"May I escort you to the hall?" he asks and Madge nods, feeling strangely out of breath. He offers her his arm and she takes it, her fingers closing around his brooch.
I am yours wholly.
Madge takes her position with Prim and Gale moves to stand beside Katniss, all of them prickling with anxiety as they wait for Peeta. Madge feels her hand burning where it holds her new brooch and she cannot get those words out of her head. I am yours wholly.
"His Grace, Lord Peeta of Burgundy!" a herald bellows, horns blaring and Madge jumps. Focus, you cannot be getting so giddy over Gale of Salisbury, this is ridiculous. The great gilded doors are thrown open and the Burgundian party sweeps into the hall, each one dressed in rich gems and silks. Madge stands a little straighter, ignores the ghost of Gale's fingers on her cheek and carefully studies the boy at the head of the group, the one that must be Peeta of Burgundy. He is perhaps Katniss's age with fine gold hair, sky blue eyes and a kind face. He is not particularly tall, but broad shouldered and sturdy. He is dressed in dark velvet with a bejeweled cap, silver clasps on his cape, shining boots and golden fleur-de-lis embroidered on his doublet. He doffs his cap and bows, his entire contingent following suit.
"Rise Lord Peeta and welcome to our kingdom," Katniss says, voice stiffened with formality. Peeta stands, smiling easily, and holds his hat over his heart.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," he says and there's in an infectious sort of charm to his words. "I am most honoured to be here in your glorious kingdom, Your Grace, and in the presence of Your most magnificent Highness."
As florid and flowery as his words are, Madge finds herself believing each one; even though she knows they are naught but flattery. I must keep my wits about me with him, I cannot fall prey to that silver tongue.
"My father sends his greetings and a gift of goodwill and friendship," he finishes and gestures at one of his men to step forward. He bows before Katniss and opens the coffer in his hands, revealing a beautiful assortment of jewels. There is a turquoise bracelet, a necklace of gold and rubies, pearl earrings and a cat shaped brooch made of solid silver with tiny emerald eyes.
"Our deepest thanks to you and your Lord Father the Duke," Katniss begins, the sharpness of her tone softened somewhat. Perhaps Peeta's golden tongue has already worked some magic. "We hope you will enjoy your time here and that it will be the beginning of a great friendship between our two nations. We have rooms prepared for you and tonight there shall a grand feast to celebrate your arrival. Indeed, if it pleases you my Lord, we hope you will join us in a few days at the wedding of our most beloved sister as the guest of honour."
Peeta bows again, his smile bright and charming.
"It would be my greatest pleasure and honour, Your Majesty. I thank you greatly."
"Excellent," Katniss says and again, Madge feels a seed of discomfort in her belly. Why was Haymitch not informed of this?
What is Katniss up to?
Things are so hectic leading up to the wedding that Madge never has a chance to see Gale alone, the words on the back of that brooch still burned into her eyelids. I am yours wholly. Even with everything going on and the surprise return of Duchess Elizabeth for the ceremony, Madge cannot get those words out of her head. For months now, she has been aiming to win Gale's heart. Has she really done it?
This is the victory I have been chasing.
And yet…
And yet what?
I don't know.
Madge and Annie help Prim dress the day of her wedding, lacing her into the most glorious golden kirtle. It shimmers every time she moves and Prim smoothes her hands over it in awe, her cheeks rosy with excitement. The kirtle is decorated with beautiful blue blossoms, each one linked together with fine silver vines. Over top goes her houppelande of deep blue silk, the front slashed to allow the kirtle to show. The burgundy velvet collar, cuffs and hem are patterned with golden fleur-de-lis and Madge ties on her girdle, gold and burgundy with sapphires and a great diamond in the center. Around her neck goes a three string pearl necklace, while dangling silver and sapphire earrings hang from her ears. Annie takes care of her hair, leaving it long except for a crown of braids at the back of her head, woven through with silver, blue and gold ribbons. The final touch is a two stringed pearl headband and Prim inhales deeply when they lead her in front of a seeing glass.
"Is that really me?" she whispers, leaning forward to touch her reflection and Madge smiles. She places her hands on Prim's shoulders and squeezes.
"Darius won't know what hit him," she says as Annie dabs Prim with rosewater and adds just the right hint of make-up. Prim blushes and bites her lip around a smile.
"Primrose!" comes Duchess Elizabeth's commanding voice from just outside the chamber and Madge stands back, giving Prim one last once over.
"Perfect," she says with a nod and Prim blushes worse, ducking her head. They head out into the hall, Duchess Elizabeth tapping her foot impatiently. She scans her eyes over Prim critically, from hair to toes, before nodding stiffly. From behind her back Madge rolls her eyes at Annie who muffles her laughter with a cough.
"Come along," Duchess Elizabeth orders and Prim hurries to follow her as she stalks off, Madge bringing up the rear. They make their way down to the Abbey and Gale is waiting just outside to escort Prim up the aisle. He catches Madge's eye, a smile on his face that makes her heart race, and winks, her stomach doing somersaults. Duchess Elizabeth turns to Prim.
"Everything must go perfectly," she says sternly and Prim nods. The Duchess leaves in a swish of maroon silk and Madge gives Prim an encouraging smile before following the Duchess into the chapel. The aisle is swathed in white rose petals and Madge is careful not to crush them as she makes her way to her seat beside her mother in the first row. Darius stands up at the front, cheery and handsome in cloth of gold, his vibrant hair ensuring all eyes are on him. The music starts to swell and Madge clasps her hands in her lap.
Be happy Prim. You deserve every happiness.
(and strange as it is, she means it too)
The wedding goes ahead perfectly and Madge watches the newlyweds as they move through their very first dance.
Prim is pink cheeked and sparkly eyed, clearly besotted with her handsome young husband and Darius smiles widely as he spins her. They make a beautiful couple and unlike the previous weddings she's attended, they are both old enough to live together as husband and wife. Madge is truly pleased they seem to be getting along, but there is still a kernel of discomfort in her stomach at the thought of Prim being a true wife in every way. She is only fourteen but she could conceive tonight, could be a mother before her fifteenth birthday. Madge knows plenty of women do it, but still, Prim is young and slender, birthing would be so very hard on her. Bless them with children, Madge prays to God, but please, keep Prim safe.
More couples begin to join Prim and Darius and Madge breathes in deeply, steeling herself for Marvel's inevitable invitation. Anyone else, I'd rather anyone else. Oh Katniss, why can you not just tell him that he shall never have me?
A murmur of surprise ripples through the crowd and Madge's eyes widen as she watches Peeta lead Katniss onto the dance floor. In all her months at court, Madge has never seen Katniss dance and there are nerves visible in her eyes and the stiffness of her limbs. I wonder, does she even know what she's doing? Peeta's smile is friendly and my goodness, Katniss must certainly be committed to making a treaty with the Burgundians.
Madge cannot help but smile a bit and thenwarm fingers close around hers. She turns quickly, expecting Marvel, and her breath hitches at the sight of Gale so very, very close.
"May I have a word?" he asks, voice quiet and Madge nods, her tongue not quite working. Gale smiles, the charming one that leaves her weak kneed, and leads her out into the hall. He turns to face her when they're alone and takes both her hands in his.
"I've missed you," he says, smile sweet and Madge wants to stay rooted to the spot at the same time she wants to flee.
"I've missed you too," she manages, voice oddly breathless and he grins wider, moving in a little closer.
"You're wearing my gift," he says and she looks down at it, pinned to her kirtle.
"Yes, it's…it's wonderful really. Thank you."
Gale lifts her chin with his hand and he is much closer now, her heart racing in her chest.
"It's true you know, however ridiculous that may seem. I am yours wholly," he says and she feels a little like swooning. His fingers are warm on her face, his breath sweet and he is so close she could count his eyelashes.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks, voice soft as an angel's wing and Madge does not even think before she answers.
"Yes."
And so he does.