roses are red, roses are white
part three
the garden of hearts
chapter one
torn asunder
"Liar! Liar, liar, liar!" Clove continues to scream and lunges towards him. He cowers with his arms up over his head as she slashes at him with her nails and Madge closes her eyes. How does this always happen? Am I cursed?
"Enough," Enobaria commands and grabs Clove's wrist. "We need to go, now ." There is a tense moment where they glare at each other, Clove's eyes flashing, but she does not argue. However angry she is, Clove knows that if the Yorkists are coming they cannot waste any time. They need to get away. She spits on the messenger but follows Enobaria out, their footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Madge presses a hand to her locket and takes a deep breath. She cannot lament her fate or cry, not now. Now is the time to flee. She picks up her skirts and hurries out of the room, chasing after Enobaria and Clove.
We are running away again, fleeing from the Yorkists.
Where will we go?
And what will happen if we're caught?
It is a thought she cannot bear to have and she pushes it from her mind. They won't be caught, they'll get away. Enobaria has always managed to escape before, today will be no different. Madge emerges into the yard and Enobaria is barking orders at anyone who'll listen, her ladies huddled in terror while Clove paces back and forth, her face livid. Madge stares at her and she is sure they are thinking the same thing.
If the Lancastrians have lost, what's happened to Cato?
Is he alive?
"Ready the horses; fetch the litter! Hurry you imbeciles!" Enobaria commands and grooms run and rush about. Madge presses her back against a wall and prays as she waits. Let us get away safe, let Gale have survived, let-
no
Her prayers are cut short when she hears the rumble of hooves in the distance, the clanking of armour and the pounding of so many feet upon the earth.
The Yorkists are coming.
Lord help us
Their desperate ride from Sodbury had been the most terrifying experience of her life, and she feels that same horror now, white hot and suffocating. There is an army coming, a victorious, blood hungry army and Madge feels her legs shake beneath her skirts. She clutches at the wall behind her and Enobaria's ladies begin to wail, because they hear it too. They sink to their knees in a quivering mess but Enobaria does not join them. She straightens her shoulders when her ears catch the sound of the coming horde and fixes hard eyes upon the gate. She is Queen of England and she will cower before no one. The grooms cease their frantic preparations, for it is too late now to try for escape. They draw together, shoulder to shoulder, and pray they will survive the approaching tempest. Clove stops her frenzied pacing and bares her teeth. She is ready for the enemy; she cannot wait to tear them apart.
And so they come.
The gates burst inward and the Yorkists come pouring in, dressed in mail and armor and blood. They spill into every corner of the yard, their gory weapons drawn, and Enobaria's ladies scream. Madge cannot blame them. A man on a steely grey horse leads the charge and she is not sure she can breathe. She digs her nails into the stone behind her and she would pray, but she cannot remember the words. Death has come for them, that is the only thought she can muster. They are surrounded, hemmed in on all sides and the man reins in his horse just shy of Enobaria. The horse stamps its feet so close to her she is in danger of being stomped on, but she does not flinch. She never flinches.
The leader pulls off his helmet to reveal a grizzled middle aged man with cruel eyes and a hungry smile. He leans in his saddle so he is looming over Enobaria, but she does not crane her head to look up. She is steady, calm, unimpressed.
"Sir John Cray, at your service. A pleasure to see you again, Enobaria," he says without her title and with insolent joy in his voice. Clove bristles but Enobaria is not so affected.
"Am I supposed to know who you are?" she asks and Cray stiffens, his cheeks blooming red. His lips pull back in a snarl.
"As rancid a bitch as always I see," he spits and the armored men around them press in closer. "Well, you won't be so high and mighty for long." He smiles again, wide and malicious and cold. Madge feels her heart stutter in her chest. Cray sweeps his eyes over Enobaria's sobbing ladies and the look on his face is predatory and terrifying.
"Ah yes, the wives and daughters of Lancaster's most favoured sons. I wonder, what would you ladies do to earn mercy for your men?" His smirk is hungry and he leans forward eagerly. Madge closes her eyes, nausea rolling over her, and the ladies whimper in fear.
"You're a foul, disgusting, hedge-born churl!" Clove shouts and Madge's eyes pop open in surprise. Cray's whole face flashes with fury but Clove is not frightened; she is only just getting started. "You think we're scared of you? You are nothing but a coward, you fat-kidneyed yaldson!"
"Put this whore in her place," he growls and Madge feels her heart stop. She wants to leap forward and beg for Clove as the men advance on her, their swords out and glistening. Madge pushes off the wall, her only thought that she cannot watch this, that she cannot let them do this, but she never has the chance to intervene. Clove has been waiting for this. She is a woman and even though they've just fought for Katniss, they still underestimate her gender. They hold their swords in loose grips and Clove is quick; one moment she is faced with two armed men, and the next she is brandishing a stolen sword while its owner lies sprawled on the floor. She faces Cray with burning eyes.
"You're pathetic Cray, you all are. You may have won this battle, but it will not be for long. Prince Cato will destroy the lot of you."
Cray laughs, but it is not a pleasant sound. "Prince Cato? Are you his princess then? I heard the little whelp got married."
Madge's throat is dry, but she forces herself to speak. "No, I am." Cray turns his gaze to her and it takes all her strength to keep from trembling. She will be brave, she will not show fear before this monster. He grins.
"And what a pretty young thing you are. I'm sure the Prince enjoys f-"
"You will not speak to the Princess of Wales in such a filthy manner," Enobaria interrupts sharply but Cray does not get angry at her reprimand. He smirks instead.
"Dowager Princess, actually."
Those words hang in the air, Cray's face lit with savage delight. Madge feels as if all the air has been sucked from her lungs. Dowager…Princess...
Can he really be…?
"Liar!" Clove shrieks and leaps forward. Her sword swings and his men squeeze in between her and Cray, desperately fending off her frenzied attacks. Clang, clang, clang and Madge flinches with every one. "Liar, liar! Horrid, pathetic cowards! Cato would never fall to the likes of you!" There are too many men and Clove is soon overwhelmed, but she thrashes violently in their grips, her nails clawing at anything she can reach.
"Monsters! Liars! Base-born whoreson!"
Madge presses her hands to her chest and feels her breath come quick and shallow. Am I really…could Cato really be…
"Would you like to see his body? I would be more than happy to show it to you." Cray's voice is so smug, so pleased and Madge does not know how to feel. Enobaria is stiff, hard, her voice as cold as ice.
"Yes, yes I would."
It is not a long ride to Tewkesbury Abbey. Madge almost wishes it was.
Cray leads the way and Enobaria follows on her horse, Madge behind her and then the litter full of tearful ladies. Clove is stuffed in with them, her hands and feet bound. Cray's soldiers surround them on all sides and Madge feels as if she too has been trussed up, her every inch painfully tight. They are prisoners now, prisoners in a way she never has been before and she should be planning, strategizing but she cannot think of what's to come. Before she sees Cato's body (if there really is a body), she cannot think of what to do next. Dead or alive, it changes everything and she refuses to imagine life without him if he might still live. She cannot do that to herself.
Long before they see the Abbey, she hears the screaming.
Her heart stops as the spring breeze carries it back to them, the wretched sounds of weeping, shouting, wailing. She cannot make out any of the words, but the despair is inescapable. What are we riding into? It grows louder as they grow closer and Madge's horror continues to mount. Whatever awaits them at Tewkesbury Abbey, it is to be hideous.
"Blasphemers! Sinners! Murderers!"
The curses come flying on the wind and Madge gasps at the raw agony in that voice. Who is that? Who are they talking to? What has happened at Tewkesbury Abbey? Madge swallows and tries to keep her shoulders straight even as fear pulses under her skin. She must be brave, she must be strong. She is Madge of Bedford, Princess of Wales and she must show them her mettle. She has lost this time, but she has lost before. She survived then and she will survive now.
And then they arrive.
It is a scene straight out of a nightmare. The Abbey stands with its doors burst inwards; bodies, so many broken, bloody bodies, lie heaped beside it; and the screaming comes from Tewkesbury's monks, huddled together as they pray, weep, and shriek. Madge stares at those bodies and she is a little girl again, watching the King execute those supposed conspirators. Bile rises in her throat and she wants to close her eyes but can't, the hideous sight burning deep, deep, deep into her mind. Cray looks at her and laughs, his eyes bright and glowing.
"Pretty sight, isn't it?"
Madge can't answer and stares down at the body of a boy who must be even younger than she is, his eyes wide and lifeless, his throat so slashed it looks like red ribbons. What happened here? Why are there so many bodies? This is no battlefield.
"Children of Satan!"
A chill steals across her skin and she drags her eyes to the monks, howling in their grief. Yorkist soldiers prowl around the Abbey and Madge feels a sharp, sickening fear. What have you done? Oh York, what have you done? Cray climbs down from his horse and shoots a disdainful look at the sobbing monks.
"Perhaps we should end your misery now and let you join your beloved Lord, hmm?" he asks and Madge feels as if she can't breathe. Is he really threatening to murder them? She brings her shaking hands up to her face and feels tears on her cheeks. This is a nightmare, this cannot be real.
"You do the Devil's work," one of the monks says, tears streaking down his face. "Murder, murder in the House of God!" Cray laughs rudely and turns to Enobaria.
"Come along; let me show you the end of your line." She slides from her horse with perfect dignity and glares so disdainfully at the man who plans to escort her inside that he backs away. She turns from him and walks steadily to the Abbey doors, her head held high. She does not stop to allow Cray to lead her in; she merely pushes past him and ignores his insulted scowl. Madge must be equally formidable. Chin up, fear buried, back straight. She allows a Yorkist to help her down and does not wince at his rough grip. She does not look at him and she steadies her breathing, carefully lifting up her skirts. The Abbey awaits her, Cato awaits her and so too does her future, whatever it may be. She wades through the carnage with sure steps and does not glance down at the corpses so carelessly piled together. There is a moment of hesitancy in the doors, but she cannot stop now. Deep breath and then she walks through the splintered wood, her heart recoiling in her chest. Had the Yorkists forced their way in? Why? This is a church, not a castle to be sieged .
And then she sees the blood.
It is everywhere, crimson, scarlet and staining the stone floors. It stops her in her tracks and her heart leaps up into her throat. She knows what happened here, even as she desperately wishes she didn't. She presses a hand to her mouth and the battle had been over, the Lancastrians had lost and those that could had fled here seeking sanctuary. The Yorkists hadn't cared. They'd broken the doors, slaughtered the men hiding here and piled their bodies outside. This had not happened in the heat of battle, these men had already lost. They had come here looking for mercy and had found only death. Murder. They'd been murdered.
"Move," the Yorkist behind her says and shoves her forward. She stumbles and wants to scream, but the sound is trapped in her throat. She keeps walking over red floors that shouldn't be red and she is horror, her every organ, breath and drop of blood drowning in it. Oh God, oh God, why would you do this? She knows full well that war is a gruesome, terrible thing, but this is something else. This is as the monk had said, murder in the House of God. Oh York, why?
"Ah, there you are. We should all see this together," Cray says as Madge enters the chapel. Enobaria waits beside him and Madge keeps her eyes on her mother-in-law rather than the smug serpent so very eager to show them the end of the House of Lancaster. Clove is led in behind her, a burly Yorkist holding each of her arms. Cray smiles wide enough to show nearly all his teeth and then leads them to the altar. There is a body waiting for them there, but is it really Cato's? Is she truly a widow?
"And here he is, the last son of Lancaster." Cray's voice seems to echo around the room and Madge holds her breath as she looks down. The body lies on his back, his armour is stained and grimy and his helmet is nowhere to be found. There is flattened yellow hair and a face she knows cannot belong to anyone else. It is Cato of Westminster, Prince of Wales.
Her husband is dead.
He looks peaceful, calmer than she's ever seen him. His eyes are closed and he could be sleeping, even with the blood and mud smeared on his face. Her purse is still hanging from his belt and she stares at it, cannot look away. He is younger than she remembers and...and he is dead.
He is really dead.
"Cato! Cato, Cato, no! No, get off me! Cato!" Clove's voice cuts through her like a knife and she cannot look. Madge closes her eyes and he is dead. Cato is really dead.
"Murderers! Monsters! Curse you to Hell! All of you, I hope you burn! I hate you! Cato, Cato..." She has never heard Clove cry before and Madge bites her lip. Still, she cannot look and suddenly there is a groan, a horrid, aching groan. She looks to her left and it is Enobaria, losing colour and crumpling to the floor. Cray laughs and Madge has always hated Enobaria, but in this moment she feels nothing but an agonizing sorrow. Enobaria stares at Cato and continues to moan, not words, just pain. Endless, impossible pain. Madge drops to her knees and throws her arms around her.
"My boy," Enobaria croaks raggedly, "my boy..." Madge presses her face to her mother-in-law's hair. I'm sorry she wants to say but she knows it will do no good. How could it? There are no words to heal a wound this deep.
"Watch it-hey, hey!"
"Fucking bitch!"
Madge looks up and Clove has somehow wrestled free of her captors and hobbles to Cato's side, her wrists and ankles still bound. She stumbles down beside the altar where he rests and growls like a bear. A furious Cray takes a step forward and Clove snaps her teeth.
"Stay away. Stay away or I'll bite your fucking hand off."
Madge kneels on the hard stone floor clutching Cato's broken mother, watches his lover cry furious tears and it's over.
Lancaster has lost, the heir is dead and she...she is a widow.
Madge does not remember the ride to Coventry.
That is where they are to meet the Queen and beg for mercy, but the journey is but a blur. All she can see are the bodies of Tewkesbury, rent apart and bloody. Cato is foremost among them, pale, gory and so terribly young. Red stained flagstone floors, broken doors and monks, screaming, wailing, cursing.
Murderers!
Sinners!
Children of Satan!
There is a cold fist around her heart and this has to be a nightmare and yet it isn't. The Yorkists have conquered England and this is how they've done it. She knows war is bloody, horrible and violent, but she has never seen it before. She cannot erase the desecrated Abbey from her mind.
Blasphemers!
Murder in the House of God!
"Stop," Cray commands and Madge's horse, tied to a knight's in front of her so she does not attempt to escape, comes to a halt. She blinks back into the moment and flinches at Cray's smile. It is the same cold, cruel smile Coriolanus was so fond of, all that's missing is the bubble of blood in the corner.
"You will have to wait for the Queen to arrive, she is very busy. In the meantime, you will remain in my custody." Madge nods mechanically and looks up at the building that will be her prison until she can plead her case with Queen Katniss. It is a monastery and she feels her stomach clench. Cray jerks his head and two men pull her from her horse and march her inside. How long will it be before Katniss arrives? And what does Cray plan to do with them until then? Enobaria is half-carried in behind her and it is as if all her spirit has been drained away. Is it the death of her son that has destroyed her so? Or the death of her dreams of re-conquering England? Or perhaps both. Madge doesn't know and she doesn't ask. Either way, Enobaria is but a shadow of her former self.
Madge's captors lead her to a small room with a single bed and an end table and lock the door behind her. She looks around at what is now her cell and sits down on the edge of the bed. Her bones are heavy, her heart weary and there is still fear like a living thing in her blood. No matter how many times she must plead for her life, it never, ever gets any less terrifying. She stares down at her hands and Cato's golden ring catches the sunlight from the window.
He is dead, he is really dead, and she is a widow.
She has seen his body, lifeless, still and stained with its own blood, and yet it is still so hard to grasp. Cato is dead and she is free of him. As horrid a thought as it is, it is better for her that he is dead, she knows that. It will be much easier to win forgiveness now that she is no longer yoked to Cato and that is selfish she supposes, isn't it? She does pity his passing, for he was so young and she can still hear Clove's tears and Enobaria's devastated moans. The mere thought sends sorrow crashing through her organs, but she cannot grieve for him. He was wicked and cruel and did nothing but make her miserable. Perhaps that makes her wicked, not to lament her departed husband. But maybe they are all somewhat wicked, living in these evil times.
And speaking of the dead...
Is Gale alive? He had certainly survived Barnet, but what of Tewkesbury? She knows they have no chance of a life together, but she cannot bear the thought of him dead. She should be focusing on her plan of attack, but he is living in her lungs, swallowing up her air. Is he alive? Or has she lost him as she loses everything else? Madge closes her eyes and leans back until her head touches the wall. She must focus. Her only concern must be survival.
(even still, her hand closes around Gale's locket)
It is days before Katniss joins them at Coventry.
Madge spends them locked up tight in her room with no idea what's going on outside. It is frustrating, terrifying and no matter how much she prays, it does not ease her mind. How is Gale? Her mother? Annie? And when will Katniss arrive? Those questions and more plague her, but there are no answers to be found. The one lady's maid that visits her has nothing to say and there is no one else for Madge to ask. She must wait.
But for how long?
She has been left mostly alone during her imprisonment at Coventry and she should have known such good fortune would not last.
It is mid-afternoon, the sun is warm across her legs as she lies in bed staring at the ceiling and her mind is whirring, carefully plotting through what she will do and say when confronted by the Queen. She must get it just right, or she will lose even the little she still has. She cannot falter here.
A knock sounds at the door and she sits up with a frown. It is not yet time for supper and never before has anyone visited her for any other reason but food and dressing. There is another knock and she stands, her heartbeat quickening in her chest. She takes cautious steps forward and the knocking continues, more insistent with every second it takes her to reach the door. She hears the guard outside unlock it and she has little choice but to unbolt the door from her side, that is the lot of a prisoner. If she refuses it will only harm her later. It might only be a messenger summoning her to see Katniss, but somehow she knows it isn't. She pulls back the bolt and opens the door just enough to see outside.
It is Cray.
There is an immediate urge in her to slam the door in his face, but she knows she can't. She stays as she is instead, her nails digging into the wood. Cray smiles. "Ah Lady Madge," he says and a chill steals over her skin. His smile widens.
"It is Princess," she corrects and before she knows what's coming, Cray grabs the door and forces it open. She stumbles back and he takes a step into the doorway, his eyes glowing.
"I wouldn't remind people of that if I were you, it certainly won't do you any favours with the Queen." Madge swallows but refuses to cower even as fear starts to pound within her. What does he want? He reaches out and strokes her cheek. Madge flinches. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care.
"I have come to offer you my aid Lady Madge. You are in a terrible position, the daughter, step-daughter and widow of traitors. But, in exchange for one small favour, I will be your champion. I will argue for leniency on your behalf and use my connections to ensure you are well treated. Your mother-in-law will not be so fortunate."
Terror races over her but fury too and it makes her head pound. He cannot possibly be offering what she thinks he is, he would not be so depraved, he couldn't. He is meant to be a knight; he cannot possibly be trying to take advantage of her desperate straits in so despicable a manner. She says nothing, for if he truly is as foul as she suspects, she will make him say it aloud. Cray smiles at her like she is a piece of meat and leans in close.
"Come to my bed Lady Madge and I will keep you safe."
Revulsion erupts beneath her skin and she should think before she acts, because she cannot afford to make enemies now. But the word is torn from her before she can stop it, a reflex born of horror. "No!"
Cray's smile stays but it turns ugly in an instant. He grabs her arm and pulls, his grip tight enough to make her gasp. "Perhaps you do not understand your situation, Lady Madge. I am offering you your only chance and you do not want to make me angry. I am your master now; you will do as I say." His breath is hot on her face and terror is bright white and pulsing inside her.
"Unhand me," she tries to command even as her voice shakes. He laughs and tightens his grip until tears spring from her eyes.
"No, I don't think I will. "
"I'll scream," she says and he laughs again, twisting and twisting her arm until she is sure it will snap.
"And who will care? I am in command here; my men will be loyal to me. Your time is over, Princess ." It is hard to breathe and Madge wonders how many times he's done this, how many women he's forced through desperation or violence to give him what he wants. He is a monster and there is anger mixing with the terror screaming in her blood. After everything she's been through, she will not let him have her.
"Oh, but you were Salisbury's whore, weren't you? Is that it? Do you think he'll come and rescue you?" Cray leers, his voice overflows with delighted mockery and Madge feels reckless, desperate rage rise up to smother her fear. She glares at him with all her force and curls her mouth in disgust.
"I need no rescue," she says and stomps the heel of her boot into his foot.
"Fuck!" he swears and Madge slaps him as hard as she can. Her whole hand screams from the blow but Cray stumbles back and loosens his grip enough that she can pull herself free. She slams the door and bolts it, even as he lunges for her.
"You fucking bitch!" he bellows. "Open this fucking door!" He slams into it from the other side and the wood groans, Madge's heart pounding in her throat. "Open this door!"
She backs up to the bed and grabs a vase from the end tale. She holds it in shaking hands and he won't have her, he won't. Cray continues to yell and pound on the door, but the wood holds. It is certainly only minutes but feels like hours when he finally relents. "You'll regret this, I promise you," he hisses from the other side and though it is perhaps foolish, Madge feels her tongue rebel against her.
"No, it is you who will regret it. You are a disgrace to knights everywhere."
BANG
She jumps as he slams into the door one last time, his voice a throaty growl. "I am the Queen's man and you are a traitorous doxy. You would do better to submit to me."
"I would rather die," she says and means it so strongly she surprises herself. Cray kicks the door and calls her a string of such horrid, filthy things her every inch of skin burns. But then, finally, he is gone. Madge sinks to her bed and clutches the vase to her chest.
She has made an enemy here.
She can only pray it will not cost her too dearly.
Madge barely sleeps that night, terrified of Cray and the revenge he will certainly try to enact. He could do all manner of things to her and until Katniss arrives, she will be without any hope of help. She had bested him this time, but if he comes again, she is sure he will not come alone. It is a sickening thought. Her arm aches and when she rises in the morning it is to see bruises on her skin, purple, black and angry. She spends a long time staring at those marks and lets them fuel her. If she fails with the Queen, these bruises will only be the beginning. It is a grim thought, but she has known since she was nine years old that this was no land of fairies.
The sun spills through the window and into her eyes and she sits up, because the time to wallow has long passed. It hurts to use her arm, but she pushes through it and begins to brush out her hair. The maid, Mary, will be here soon to help her into her one dress and maybe today will be the day she sees the Queen. Please let it be today. There is a knock on the door and she jumps. Is it Cray? That cold thought settles in her throat and though she knows it is most likely Mary, her heart still pounds in fear. She clutches the brush with trembling fingers until a soft voice calls her name. "Lady Madge?" It is Mary and Madge stands, though she grabs her vase. She would not put it past him to use Mary to lure her out and she steps slowly to the door. She unbolts it and opens it only a crack, but there is no one but her guards and Mary outside. She deflates and opens the door all the way, her whole body quivering. She bolts the door after Mary steps inside and she can feel the maid's eyes skitter over her bruised arm. She doesn't ask though and Madge isn't surprised.
When she is dressed, Mary leaves and Madge sits alone. She pushes up her sleeve and lets her arm just sit throbbing against her skirt. She rubs fingers over her rosary and prays that Katniss will soon send for her, for she can't take this waiting any longer. Someone knocks at the door and Madge feels herself flinch. She forces her breathing to steady and means to ask who it is, but her throat is too dry. She squeezes her rosary beads and then, "Lady Madge?" Her eyes widen and she recognizes the voice. It's Thom and she is up on her feet in a moment. Maybe, finally, her prayers have been answered. She hurriedly pulls back the bolt and wrenches open the door, and there he is, Thom standing waiting for her in the hall. He bows and she does not bother to correct him on her title, a thousand fears crowding in on her at the sight of him. Where is Gale? Is he alright? She never gets the chance to ask.
"The Queen has sent me to escort you to her," Thom says and Madge nods. She smothers her worries and squares her shoulders. Now it's time to go to war. Thom offers his arm and she takes it, allowing him to lead her through the halls. The monastery is quiet and Madge counts each of their echoing steps to help steady herself. It is time to don her sword.
They reach an airy room with a makeshift throne at the end, Katniss perched upon it. She is still in armour, though it is clean and gleaming rather than bloodstained and spoilt. The sight still sends a tingle of terror to Madge's toes. Katniss' face is drawn, her eyes narrowed and there is a hard look to her, one that does not bode well for Madge. Still, she cannot be daunted. There is far too much at stake. Gale is not present, but there are two men flanking the Queen, one on each side. On the left is a man she vaguely recalls is called Baron Hastings and on the right, on the right is Cray. He smirks and it is cruel. She knows he's planning something, but he's a fool if he thinks she'll let him get away with it. He will not be her undoing, not after everything. She curtsies low.
"Your Majesty," she says softly and Katniss' voice is curt when she tells her to rise.
"You are a traitor to the crown yet again," Katniss says and there is no friendliness in her. Madge keeps her eyes respectfully on the floor.
"By no choice of my own, Your Majesty."
"This was all your step-father's doing then, was it?" Katniss asks, and her voice is sharp enough to draw blood. Madge nods and there is an angry noise from the Queen.
"Why is it that all the men in your life fight against me?"
Madge bites her lip and shakes her head. "I know not Your Majesty; I know only that I never desired to betray you. I make no excuses for the actions of my step-father or step-brother; I beg only your mercy on us all."
Katniss is silent and Madge does not fidget even though she wants to. Hopefully the reminder of Marvel will serve her well, after all Katniss has welcomed him back into the fold and he actually fought for Lancaster. Madge may have married the heir, but it is Marvel that helped force Katniss from her throne.
"And what if we decide it is safer to keep you locked away?"
"Then I will be locked away. I am your humble subject, Your Majesty, and I defer to your wisdom and judgement. I make only one request. If I am to be in the custody of the crown, I ask only that Sir Cray not be involved." The silence that follows is deep but only momentary. Cray's outrage radiates out and fills the room, his furious voice following soon after.
"How dare-"
"And why is that?" Katniss interrupts and Madge finally looks up. She raises her arm and pulls down her sleeve, revealing her mottled skin. Cray is red faced, Baron Hastings wide eyed and Katniss's expression turns dark.
"I had nothing to do with that!" Cray shouts and Katniss clenches her jaw. "This woman is a liar and a traitor; we cannot believe a word from her treacherous mouth!"
"Explain yourself," Katniss says and Madge keeps her arm up so they cannot look away.
"Yesterday Sir Cray came to my room and offered his aid in securing your mercy. In return, he wanted me to surrender my virtue. When I refused, he attempted to take me by force."
"Liar!" Cray shrieks but Madge does not even glance in his direction. She keeps her eyes on Katniss. What she has said is very bold, very unladylike and could very well doom her. She looks at the Queen and prays she has calculated right.
"Enough Cray. Go to your chambers and we will speak to you later," Katniss commands and Cray opens his mouth but swallows his protests when armed guards take steps closer to him. He shoots Madge a murderous look and stomps off, but she doesn't care. Whatever poison he'd intended to spew against her will be ignored now and hopefully, hopefully he will face punishment for all the other women he's hurt. If not, well she will certainly see him again. She doubts he will forgive or forget this. Katniss closes her eyes and then opens them, staring intently at Madge. Madge drops her gaze back to the floor.
"You swear you did not mean to betray us?"
"On my life, Your Majesty."
"You swear you will never betray us again?"
"As long as I live, Your Majesty."
Katniss exhales a frustrated breath and her face pinches up. Madge wonders what is going through her mind.
"Do you not hate us for your widowhood?" she asks and Madge feels her insides tighten. This is a tricky question, because no one will look kindly if she is uncaring of her dead husband, no matter who he is. But she cannot say she does blame or hate the Queen, for that would be the end of her. How is she meant to answer?
"My husband..." she begins and let them think her pause is from sorrow. "My husband's death is a heavy blow, but I do not hate you Your Majesty. My Prince chose to fight and died bravely, as befitted him. I mourn his passing, but this was war, I cannot lay blame at the feet of one person."
"You do not think he should be sitting here instead of us?"
Again, Katniss has asked a question with no easy answer. Madge's throat is dry and she breathes deeply. She is walking a narrow ledge, she must not fall. "I know not what sort of king my Prince would have made; I know only that Coriolanus is a truly wicked one. You have done England a great service in removing him and I believe, as I did before, that you are a just and good queen."
"You do not think Cato was rightful King of England and we have usurped him?"
"I would not presume to understand the intricacies of our laws of royal succession," Madge offers and feels the lie like ashes on her tongue. She must play the ignorant lady, that is the only option Katniss has left her. Saying Cato was rightful king will damn her, but saying she's always known Katniss was rightful ruler will never be believed. Her banner left on Bedford Castle is proof enough that she had believed in Lancaster's cause. So she will be a woman following the teachings of her men, never understanding any of it herself. It tastes bitter but it will be worth it to survive. Katniss sighs.
"You have caused much sorrow, Lady Madge," she murmurs and Madge's heart stops. Gale . This then, is why Katniss has been so hostile. She blames Madge for Gale's heartbreak. Madge bites her lip and feels tears sting her eyes.
"I am sorry, I never wanted to," she says, her voice sticky with sadness. Katniss sighs again.
"We must deliberate on this issue. You are dismissed."
Madge curtseys and Thom steps to her side. She takes his arm and her heart quakes in her chest. Oh Gale, forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, I miss you and please, please be alive. Thom leads her back to her room and just as she is stepping through the door, he leans in very close.
"He's alive," he whispers and Madge gasps. She looks up at Thom, but he has already turned and begun to walk away. Her hands come up to cover her mouth and this time she does not fight the tears that come. She sinks to her knees and thank God, thank God. Oh Gale, thank God.
He is alive, no matter what else, Gale is alive.
Waiting is, as ever, Hell.
She sits by her window and stares out at the world, her whole body alive with worry. What will Katniss decide? Will she be locked up for the rest of her life? Or will she be married off to someone loyal? Is there a chance she will know freedom? And what of Gale? If Katniss hates her so, does Gale? The mere thought of it sends pain lancing through her, but maybe it will be better if he does. There is no life for them; perhaps it is kinder to hope he has abandoned his love for her.
(of course, there is the traitorous voice that whispers maybe we do have a chance of a life together. Katniss may wish to marry her off and who is more loyal than Gale?)
(of course, there is another voice and this one whispers he must hate you, or wouldn't he have come to see you? )
Torturing herself with the possibilities is driving her mad and she cannot stay in her tiny room a moment longer. She stands, nearly knocks over her chair in her suddenness, and unbolts her door. "What are you doing?" comes a gruff voice from the other side and she presses herself to the wood.
"There is something very urgent I must ask you, please open the door." She closes her eyes and the guard on the other side does not answer for a long moment. "Please, good sir, I beg of you."
"Step away from the door," he finally says and Madge sighs with relief. She steps away and hears the click of the key in the lock. The door opens and she feels lighter even at the sight of the hallway. The guard looks at her with narrowed eyes and she smiles her most charming smile.
"What did you wish to ask?"
"I fear I am growing ill shut away as I am. I most humbly ask that I be allowed a brief walk in the garden." The guard is going to deny her, she can see it in the tight line of his mouth and she cuts him off before he can. "Please sir, just a short walk. I have no nefarious intentions; the air here is so stale I cannot breathe. With an escort of course, but I feel I might faint if I do not breathe fresh air soon." She flutters her eyelashes at him for good measure and he mulls over her words, his eyebrows drawing together.
"Well..."
"What's going on here?" Madge turns at the interruption and it is Thom walking down the hallway towards them.
"The lady wishes to go for a walk in the garden, sir," her guard explains and Thom nods.
"Very good, I shall escort her." Madge looks at him in surprise as does her guard.
"Are you sure, my lord?"
"Yes, it would be wrong of us to deny her a chance at fresh air. If anyone complains, you may tell them I authorized it. Lady Madge?" he asks and holds out his arm. She takes it.
"Thank you, my lord."
"Of course, my lady. Think nothing of it." He leads her outside and Madge does not ask him about Katniss, about Gale, about anything. She could, and those questions sit on her tongue like hot coals, but she does not spit them out. She does not want to seem desperate or anxious and if she is being honest, she fears the possible answers to some questions. It is better to keep silent. They reach the small garden and Thom steps back from her.
"I will leave you your privacy, my lady. If you need me, I will be just beyond that hedge."
Madge curtseys. "Thank you, Sir Thom."
"There is no need to thank me, my lady." He bows and then he is gone. The breeze stirs her hair and she looks around the garden, the splashes of colour helping to ease her troubles. She runs her fingers over soft petals and as wonderful as it is to be free of her room, there is still a tight knot of panic trapped between her ribs. Her entire future is riding on Katniss' decision and she feels as helpless as she did trapped in Harfleur. She can do nothing but pray, just like back then, and she can barely stand it. After everything, she does not think she is capable of leaving her fate in other people's hands.
The wind rises and lifts her hair off her shoulders, the scent of coming rain just touching the breeze. It might be wiser to retreat indoors, but she won't. She will take all the time out here she can, after all, who knows when she'll get another chance.
There is a lone bench tucked into the hedges and Madge sits down heavily, the stone cold even through her many layers of skirt. She tilts her face up and looks at the dove gray clouds scattered across the pale blue sky, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Is this to be her life now? A prisoner forced to snatch small moments of freedom whenever she can? And what of her mother and Annie? Are they alright? Will she ever see them again? She has survived wars, exile, so many terrible channel crossings, the loss of her father and even a stint as a Yorkist prisoner, is this really the end? How can that be fair? She has clawed her way back up after every defeat, she cannot lose here. She can't. Right?
The tears drip into her lap and she has to be strong, and she will be, but not right now. Let her be weak for a moment. She's earned that.
Her hands find Gale's locket and she tries not to imagine how it will feel to see him marry someone else, to watch him with this other woman but the pain comes sharp and thick. She'd known this was a possibility but she'd always imagined it happening far away from her. The Lancastrians would win, Gale would go into exile and she wouldn't have to see him and the happy ending she could never be a part of.
"Madge?"
It is a dream, it must be, for this is how her every dream begins. She looks away from the sky and there is Gale, beautiful and impossibly real as he stands among the spring blossoms. He is exactly as she remembers him except better somehow, the deep brown of his hair richer, the silver of his eyes brighter, the lines of his face so perfectly cut. Her heart does not beat, her breath does not come and she stares at him terrified to blink, because she is sure he will vanish as he always does.
Except this time, her dream's come true.
(and so has Gale's)
"Forgive me, I did not mean to interrupt your grieving," he says so, so softly as if he is afraid speaking too loud will cause her to flee. His voice is like a hot poker in her chest and she cannot help but gasp. She brings up a hand to touch her wet cheek and still she cannot look away. He is here, he is really here and suddenly her tears come stronger, breaking out like a storm. Gale lurches forward and then stops himself, his face stricken.
"Lady Madge, I-" and the sound of her name in his voice is like a battering ram. She covers her mouth with her hands and she can barely see him her vision is so blurry, but she cannot close her eyes. Even if he is only an outline, she cannot lose sight of him.
"I'm sorry, I'll leave if-"
"N-no," she interrupts, the word clawing up through her throat. It is hard to speak through her sobbing, but she cannot let him leave. Not now. "I...I'm s-sorry. I...I shouldn't be-I shouldn't be crying like this," she manages and rubs furiously at her eyes, but the tears keep coming.
"You have every reason to, more than most. Your husband..." he trails off and Madge takes deep breaths. She needs to be able to explain, to make sure he understands.
"I pity his death, but I do not mourn for him," she says and Gale's eyes glow with the same hope she can feel bursting in her chest. After everything, have they really been gifted a second chance? "Cato was my husband by law, but never in my heart."
The words are barely out of her mouth before he is there, pulling her up from her bench and into his arms. He engulfs her, the smell of him, the feel of him, the warmth of him, and she melts into his chest, her arms grasping him so tightly she might never let go. "God, God Madge, I missed you so much," he says to her skin, the words shaking as they tumble from his lips. She presses her face into his shoulder and breathes him in, the tears still spilling from her without end.
"I was...I was so afraid we'd never see each other again," she sobs and he kisses her hair over and over again.
"Never, that never would've happened," he swears and takes her face in his hands. "No matter how long it took, I'd come back to you. I promised, didn't I?" He smiles then, the corner of the mouth, melt her heart smile and she nods, her own smile shining through. His thumbs stroke her teary cheeks and she leans up, her lips pressing softly to his. It is only soft for a moment. It has been over a year of being apart and this kiss is a year's worth in one. He pulls her somehow closer and she can feel his heart beating against hers, his mouth an ocean she is glad to drown in. She tightens her hold on him and she cannot think, cannot breathe, everything she is lost in Gale, his hands, his lips, his tongue. One of his hands is in her hair and the other holds her waist, his fingers lighting fires in her blood. She is drunk on the taste of him and dizzy with passion and love when a voice cuts through her happy haze.
"Please my lord, Lady Madge requested privacy," comes Thom's voice from beyond the hedge.
"That most certainly does not apply to me. Step aside Sir Thom," Marvel orders and Madge feels cold wind blow over her. It hurts to pull away from Gale, but she must as this is far from an appropriate embrace to be caught in. Gale does not let her go though, his arms holding her snug and warm. She looks up at him in confusion and his jaw is clenched, his eyes dark. She reaches up and touches his cheek and with a heavy sigh he releases her. He keeps a tight hold on one of her hands though and this she allows, even as manners demand she shouldn't.
"It's alright Thom," Gale calls and cuts through the argument happening just out of sight. Marvel comes around the hedge followed by a red-faced Thom and Madge feels a staggering wave of loathing crash over her. Greedy, ambitious Marvel who forced his father into rebellion and then abandoned him stands before her with twinkling eyes and a smug smirk, safe and secure in Yorkist favour. He is despicable, utterly and entirely. His eyes find their clasped hands and his smirk only grows.
"The Queen requests your presence cousin, she insists it is very urgent," Marvel says and Gale stiffens. Madge squeezes his hand.
"You don't want to keep her waiting I'm sure. Don't worry; my dearest sister shall be safe with me." Marvel's tone is insultingly insolent, his eyes bright with wicked mischief. Madge bristles and Gale's hand tightens on hers. She does not want to part with Gale, not for the world, but she knows they must. She will not risk this new chance of theirs by offending either Katniss or Marvel. She drops into a curtsy.
"Thank you very much for your concern, Sir Gale, but I assure you I am being very well treated," she says and Gale exhales through his nose. He does not want to go either, but she is sure he understands what she's doing. He closes his eyes briefly and then kisses her hand, the warmth of him sinking deep below her skin.
"I shall check in with you again soon, Lady Madge," he murmurs and she nods, cherishing the promise in his words. He bows and when he releases her hand she cannot help hugging it to her chest. He stares into her eyes for a long moment and she knows he is suffering just as much as she is at this fresh parting. She watches him leave and he takes her with him, her heart still beating against his. Soon Gale, we'll be together again soon.
"Don't fret sister sweet, I have glad tidings." Madge turns to face Marvel and feels herself harden. He smiles widely and strolls towards her, his expression so arrogantly delighted she might be sick. He grabs her hand and it takes her all not to snatch it back.
"The Queen will not punish your treachery darling Madge, isn't that good news? She has just told me."
It is like a weight tumbling off her back, her posture straightening with her new lightness. Is she really safe?
"Of course, you may well be carrying a Lancastrian heir," he continues and Madge feels as if she has leapt into a deep, dark pool of ice. She had been so caught up in everything else, she hadn't even thought about the fact that she might be pregnant. Her knees are suddenly weak and if she is pregnant...if she is pregnant she is ruined. She had prayed and prayed for a son, but now she prays desperately that there is nothing growing within her. There will be no freedom for her or any baby of Cato's, they will be prisoners under lock and key for the rest of their lives. And her baby...if she has a baby they might even be executed when they are old enough. No, no, oh God please don't let me pregnant.
"Until we can determine whether you are having Cato's spawn, you have been placed in my custody," Marvel finishes and Madge's eyes widen. She wants to protest but even as the words build up in her throat, she knows they will serve no purpose. Marvel is the closest thing she has to a relative and she cannot afford to go against Katniss, not now when her freedom is so close. She swallows but cannot force up a smile as she used to when in his presence. Too much has passed since they'd left England over a year ago. Marvel doesn't seem to mind.
"We leave for London tomorrow, I am sure you will be happy with us. Now let me escort you back to your room."
"Actually, my lord, it is my duty to see the Lady Madge back safely," Thom interrupts and Madge looks over at him in surprise. His voice is pleasant enough, but his eyes are harder than usual as he looks at her step-brother. She is clearly not the only one who hasn't forgiven Marvel. The two boys glare at each other for a long moment until Marvel shrugs.
"Very well. I shall see you tomorrow," he coos and kisses her knuckles. Madge barely represses a grimace. He bows with a grin that curls her toes and then he is gone, her eyes stuck to his back. Until her bleeding comes (and it will ), Marvel will be her jailer. He has something planned, she can tell, but whatever it is, she will overcome it. She has to; after everything, Marvel will not be the thing that defeats her. Thom steps up to her side and Madge presses her hands against her stomach.
Please let my bleeding come. Please let me be free of child.
Oh God, please don't let me be pregnant
(Prim drums her fingers on the ledge of one of Westminster's windows and stares down at London's busy streets.
She has kept vigil here for days, determined not to miss the moment Katniss rides into the city. Her sister is soon to return a victor secure on her throne and Prim is so eager it feels like horses galloping within her. The Yorkist sun has crested England's horizon once again and Prim cannot wait to live in its light)
(she does not think of Darius)
(she can't)
Madge does not see Gale again before they leave for London.
She'd hoped he might come by her room but of course he hadn't. That was too dangerous, especially with Marvel skulking about. Worse even than Marvel though, were his words. He'd reminded her of a possible pregnancy and her thoughts had been overwhelmed with the horror of that outcome. If she is pregnant there is no escape, no freedom, nothing at all that she can do. She and her baby will be doomed. That thought had tormented her all night and she'd hardly slept. She'd stared up at the shadows in the corner of the ceiling and there were red crescents on her stomach from where she'd dug her nails into the skin.
Mary wakes her in the morning and Madge is sick with exhaustion (or is it something worse?). She is laced into her gown and led outside to the busy courtyard. All the Yorkists are headed for London and Madge tries to catch a glimpse of Gale even as bile crawls up her throat. She holds it at bay but she cannot find Gale in the crowd. Marvel she can find, smirking as he always is. Hate boils with the illness in her gut and she turns away. Knights, lords and squires scurry about in every direction, horses stamp their hooves and Madge is led to a closed litter. Enobaria's ladies are already huddled inside and they stare at her with wide eyes and trembling faces. It is a struggle but Madge forces her own expression to be resolute and composed. No matter how terrified she is, she will be brave. She is Madge of Bedford, Princess of Wales and she will stand tall. She sits down and hopes her strength finds its way to the other ladies.
Just beside them is an open carriage with Clove and Enobaria seated inside. Madge knows her closed litter is a kindness from Katniss, as it will shield her from the abuse the citizens will surely dole out to their former queen. The people of London are angry and Enobaria will be the one to bear their blame.
(of course, she is far from the only one with England's blood on her hands)
Madge has not seen either of them since they'd all arrived in Coventry and looking at them now, she cannot help the ache in her chest. Her fingers dig into her palms and Enobaria sits slumped in her carriage, her hair unkempt, her dress soiled and her face blank. The She-Wolf is no more; the Queen that towered over them all is nothing now but a broken shell. Madge cannot bear it and looks away to see Clove. If Enobaria is empty, Clove is overflowing. Her wrists and ankles are bound, her eyes burn and curses are hurled from her mouth at everyone who passes. She is a wild woman, hair unbrushed, tears in her dress and an angry bruise swelling her left eye. Madge tries not to imagine how she might have gotten it.
"Filth! Scum! Traitors and thieves! You'll pay for this, you'll all pay! The House of York is putrid and will rot away around you!" Clove screams like a deranged prophet and Madge shivers. A man approaches the litter and hisses something to Clove Madge cannot hear but it does nothing to quiet her. Clove spits in his face instead and thrashes in her bindings like the Devil himself has possessed her. More men approach, one with a gag, and Madge's carriage lurches forward. Clove continues to shout and shriek and Madge closes her eyes. She hates Clove, she always has, but please don't hurt her .
When she opens them again, they are on the road to London.
To the belly of the beast I go
(London is alive with their triumph.
Her people line the streets as Katniss and her men ride into the city, cheering, clapping and waving handkerchiefs. There are white ribbons in their hair and on their hats and they lean forward eagerly, everyone trying to get as close to their heroes as they can. People dance and sing, laughter rings through the air and white rose petals scatter on the wind.
Victory tastes sweeter than any sugar.
Katniss waves, her smile genuine, and she feels warm here as she never has before. She does not want to be queen, she never will, but looking at the beaming faces on every side of her, it does not feel quite so terrible as usual. These people love her and she will love them too, it's what they deserve. She will give them peace and prosperity after so many years of hardship. The people of England have suffered enough.
Gale rides just slightly behind her, the Tower where Coriolanus waits gleams white in the sun and Katniss knows there is still one task left before they can claim total victory.
The House of Lancaster is poison and it is time to burn it out of England's system for good)
Madge peeks out her carriage window at the cheering throngs and cannot help but wonder if they'd have behaved exactly the same had Lancaster won. Are they truly overjoyed that York is victorious or merely happy the fighting is finally over? Do they even care who rules anymore?
Well, she cannot blame them either way. The people of England have suffered enough because of this violent family feud. Still, as happy as they seem, they must be wondering the same thing she is.
Lancaster had failed them, but will York truly be any better?
(Rory is a man now and he'd promised himself he wouldn't cry, but when Posy comes hurtling down Westminster's steps towards him and Gale, he feels his eyes sting treacherously. She collides with Gale like a cannonball and their brother laughs and swings her up into his arms. She is already babbling a million words a minute but Rory has no chance to listen, as Vick is suddenly there squeezing him so tight he might suffocate.
"Rory! God, Rory, thank God. You didn't die," Vick all but sobs and again Rory feels his eyes burn.
"Of course not," he scoffs but squeezes his little brother too. He'd missed him, horribly, terribly, and though he could never say it, hopefully Vick can feel it.
"Rory!" Posy squeals. "Did you really fight?" Rory nods and keeps an arm slung over Vick's shoulders. Posy squeals again and flings herself out of Gale's arms at him, the force nearly knocking him down the stairs.
"Jesus Posy!" he says but she merely laughs and wraps her arms around him.
"I missed you," she says and he can barely answer through the lump in his throat.
"Yeah," he manages and Posy laughs again. She's bigger than he remembers, but then, God she's eight now.
"What was Burgundy like? Were there ponies? Were there gardens? Booties had more babies, I named one for you. Were you scared fighting? Did you see people die? Henry thinks Little Rory's a girl kitty, but I don't believe him." Posy keeps talking and Rory can't get a word in, but that's okay. She's here, he's here, they're all here. He might never have seen them again, but they're all here. He holds Posy a little closer and buries his wet eyes in her hair.
"Come now Posy, let me have a look at my boys." It's his mum's voice and Rory looks up quickly to see her standing at the top of the steps. She looks just the same, but her face is terribly sad even as she smiles. Posy slides out of his arms and then Mum is there, one arm pulling him close as the other pulls in Gale. She is warm and smells like home and Rory clings to her tightly.
"I prayed everyday you would come home to me and now you have. Oh, how I've missed you my brave boys."
"I missed you too," Rory chokes out and his eyes are so blurry he can barely see. His mum pulls back and takes his face in her hands and he hates that he can't stop sniffling. There are tears in her eyes but her voice is stern.
"You are much too young to be fighting wars," she says and then turns her stern look on Gale. He holds his hands up in surrender.
"Katniss asked him. Was I supposed to go against the Queen?" She doesn't need to say anything, the answer is obvious. Gale rolls his eyes. Mum pulls them both back into her embrace and sighs.
"I love you both so much."
"And we love you," Gale says and Rory is glad, for his voice is so clogged he's not sure he could get a word out if he tried. Rory holds his mum tight and Vick presses up to his side while Posy squeezes in next to Gale. The five of them stand there, back together again and Rory never wants to move.
He's home)
Cold Harbour is much as Madge remembers it, grandiose and overflowing with Marvel.
There are silk banners hanging from the windows with his coat of arms blazoned upon them and a row of peacock badged servants waiting outside to attend them. Her litter pulls up alongside the gate and she looks up at her newest prison with resolution. She will survive this as she has every other challenge since she was fourteen and the world fell apart. No matter what it takes, no matter what she has to do, she will survive this.
A guard opens her door and holds out a hand. Madge thinks of what Enobaria taught her and covers herself in the ice that used to flow through her mother-in-law's veins. She is Princess of Wales, Duchess of Cornwall, Duchess of Bedford and Countess of Chester. She is Madge Undersee. She takes the offered hand lightly and steps down from the litter, her back straight and her eyes cool. The litter carries on as soon as she is clear of it and trundles away with Enobaria's ladies still aboard.
Where is it taking them? Hopefully home. Please let them go home.
"Welcome home, my dearest sister," Marvel says and Madge turns to him with cold eyes. He holds out his arm and she takes it lightly, the very feel of his sleeve sending ants crawling over her skin. She looks back up at Cold Harbour and this is not home, it could never be home. Marvel pulls her towards the great double doors and the servants all bow so low you'd think he was a king. Madge nearly crumples under the weight of her contempt. Glimmer is waiting for them in the entrance hall as they step inside and she sweeps into a curtsy.
"Welcome home, my victorious lord," she coos and Marvel finally releases Madge. His smile is wide and obnoxious as he pulls Glimmer up, a hungry edge to his gaze as he drinks in her face.
"Show my sister to her room," he throws over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving Glimmer. Her expression turns positively wanton and Madge looks away. The Steward steps towards her with a bow.
"This way please, my lady." Madge follows him upstairs, a seed of hope planted in her belly. Glimmer was on the same boat as Annie and her mother, if she is here does that mean they are close by too? It is a balm to the sore Marvel's presence has left on her heart and she breathes a little easier as the Steward leads her into her room. She stops a moment in the doorway, overwhelmed by…by the sheer… Marvelness of the room. Heavy velvet curtains in deep blue with gold fringe hang about the windows and around the bed, the wood surfaces of the gilded furniture glow and sparkling peacocks are absolutely everywhere. Bejewelled peacocks are inlaid into the bed frame, the stand for the wash basin, the chair and the doors of the wardrobe while peacocks made of shimmering thread are stitched into the curtains, the bed hangings, the covers and the silk pillowcases. She blinks and it is too much, as most things in Marvel's house are, but Madge would be lying if she said she was not looking forward to sleeping in a proper, comfortable bed again.
The Steward clears his throat. "I beg your pardon, my lady, but there was one thing the Countess wished me to inform you of. She and the Earl will be attending a ball at the palace this evening to celebrate the Yorkist victory. As you are still deep in mourning, you have been excused from attending."
Madge could laugh but she doesn't need the Steward to think she's deranged. She smiles instead. "Please thank them for their kindness."
The Steward nods, bows and leaves. Madge hears the lock click behind him.
And so my newest sentence begins
(Rory fastens his belt, straightens his doublet and scrutinizes himself in the mirror. He looks very grown up, very...
"Heroic," Vick giggles from behind him. "You look very heroic Rory; I'm sure all the girls will be swooning." Rory scowls.
"Shut up," he says and smoothes his hair. Vick giggles again only for it to turn into a squeak of surprise as the door comes flying open and smacks against the wall. Rory jumps, as do his insides, and spins around. He stares.
"Philippa?" For it is Philippa, Philippa who he hasn't seen in months, her cheeks red and her hair in disarray. He barely has a chance to look at her before she is on top of him, her hair in his mouth, her arms strangling him and her body mushed up tight against his.
"Rory," she breathes and no one has ever said his name like that before. Her voice is soft and surprised and almost wonderstruck and it makes him feel... weird . "You're not dead."
His face is burning but he shrugs and tries to sound nonchalant as he says, "No, I'm not. Why does everyone keep saying that?" Philippa doesn't answer; instead she seems to realize just what she's doing and pushes off him so hard he stumbles. She clears her throat and fiddles with a few loose strands of hair.
"Well, that's good I suppose. I didn't fancy becoming a widow at fifteen."
He nods and means to say something, but nothing comes out. It is hard to make proper words because it has been months and Philippa is...different now. She is taller, her hair is longer and parts of her...parts of her have...uh...grown. He'd felt it when she'd hugged him and he can see it now and he feels even weirder than he had before. She is Philippa and yet she's a different Philippa. A Philippa that hugs him and looks...pretty. Maybe, potentially. It's probably the shock of seeing her again that's addling his brain.
(he can't help wondering if he looks different too. He hopes so)
"I'm impressed you're not dead," he finally manages, "I was sure you'd say something to Coriolanus and get your head chopped clean off." Philippa scoffs and tosses her hair over her shoulder in a gesture so familiar he almost smiles.
"I had a mind to, but John and my parents wouldn't let me. It's too bad; I had words for Coriolanus alright."
Rory does smile this time and throws her words back at her. "Probably best you never got the chance, I didn't fancy becoming a widower at fifteen." Philippa sticks out her tongue and maybe she isn't a different Philippa, maybe she's the same one she's always been.
"Stop flirting Rory, we're going to be late," Vick says and Rory is so embarrassed he may drop dead right there. Philippa's pale face flames red.
"Never," she says at the same time Rory says "We're not!"
Vick rolls his eyes. "Right, fine. Can we go?" Rory nods and follows Vick from the room. He shares a look with Philippa and they're both mortified, flushed and in total agreement that Vick's crazy. Good, he'd hate for her to think he was...No, that'd be awful.
Why would Vick even say that? Ugh.)
(Why would Thom?)
Madge lies in bed in her golden cage and thinks of Gale.
She hopes he is having a glad time this evening, he has earned it.
(Westminster's great hall glitters in gold as the Yorkists celebrate their triumph.
Marvel twirls Glimmer on the dance floor as the music picks up in tempo and bathes in his victory. He has bested the Lancastrians and Haymitch, now all that remains is Madge. Securing custody of her of her had been the first step, now it is time to finish her. She thinks herself so clever, he cannot wait to see her fall.
He pulls Glimmer back into his arms as his eyes find Gale hovering by Katniss with a distracted smile on his face. It is unfortunate his cousin is still infatuated with Madge; things would be much simpler had he given up on her. Still, Marvel has a plan to put an end to their foolish love affair once and for all. He can't say he isn't looking forward to it.
The song winds down and Glimmer presses herself delightfully close, her breath hot on his ear. "Ruin them." Marvel grins and squeezes her waist. He will ruin them and from their ashes he will rise, Marvel Abernathy the greatest man in England)
(he cannot wait)
(Prim's heart is lighter than it has been in so, so long as she collapses on a bench and fans her red face with a hand. The air is merry, the wine free flowing and the music gay, her spirits lifted higher than the ceiling by all three. Everyone is bright and laughing, even Katniss has a smile lighting up her face. Peeta pulls her sister onto the dancefloor and Prim feels her heart soar at the sight. Her sister has been grim and melancholy for too long, she has earned this joy.
Prim stands in search of refreshments, her throat dry enough to be made of parchment. She bounces her head to the music as she looks about, but the jingling servers seem to have vanished into the lively throngs. Prim squeezes her way through the swaying dancers and twirling drinkers, her tongue unable to help singing along to the minstrels' jaunty tune. Her eyes land upon a smiling server with a tray full of goblets but before she can reach him, a hand closes around her arm. She turns and stops, her heart suddenly thudding in her throat.
Darius.
He leans in close and even though he is shouting to be heard, his words sound like a whisper against her face. "May I have a word?" Her tongue is too heavy to speak and he takes her silence as agreement. He pulls her through the crowds and out into the hall, an odd sort of numbness creeping over her. The music is fainter here, the laughter dimmed and Darius takes a deep breath. Prim can do nothing but stare at him.
"I fought for York at Barnet and Tewkesbury," he explains, "and so Queen Katniss has forgiven me."
"For everything? Truly?" Prim asks and cannot believe it. Darius nods, the shadows of the darkened corridor blurring his edges.
"Yes. She wasn't happy with my choices, but she has pardoned my crimes."
Prim shakes her head. "She wouldn't. Your betrayal is too great."
Darius' face flashes with pain and it is an effort for him to keep his voice level. "Well, she has. You may ask her about it if you wish, but I promise you, she has forgiven me. She knows why I did what I did and though she will never be happy about it, she understands. Can you?"
Prim should be happy about this, she knows she should. She has her sister back safe and now she can love her husband without guilt, this should be a magnificent moment. So why isn't she thrilled?
"How can we trust you will not turn against us again?" she asks and Darius takes her hands in his.
"I made a choice; I had to. Before Barnet I had to decide what I wanted most and that's you. I love you so much and I cannot have a life without you. I will never betray you Prim, never. We can be happy now, us and our boy. I heard it was a boy, I cannot wait to meet him."
Darius' face is earnest and fearful and Prim has no reason now to push him away. Her smile is tentative but Darius' is radiant as he pulls her into his arms, his body engulfing hers. He breathes her in deeply. "Oh Prim, my Prim. I have missed you so much."
Prim smiles again but it does not reach her heart. She should be happy now.
So why isn't she?)
(here is a secret)
(Katniss has forgiven Darius but only because she doesn't know everything he's done. He tells her how he knelt before Coriolanus after the readeption and swore fealty and she forgives him for it, after all, so many lords left in England had done the same. He had fought for her at Barnet and Tewkesbury and he promises that he swore loyalty only to keep Prim and their baby safe. She believes him.
He tells her too how he made Coriolanus' time in the Tower more pleasant, though that was only to honour his father and grandfather. He had turned against them when he fought for York and the guilt had never left him, so he did what he could for Coriolanus. It is a lie, but one Katniss reluctantly accepts. She understands the need to honour a fallen father.
He does not tell her the real reason for his kindness nor the fact that he sold her out to the Lancastrians. She would never forgive that. He takes a gamble that Prim will not mention it if she believes he already has and today at least, it seems he was right)
(but how long can all his lies truly last?)
(please let it be long enough )
It is the midday sun that wakes her, its yellow rays cutting into her eyelids. Madge groans and rolls over, but the darkness of her pillow cannot save her now she is awake. She lays there for a moment more and feels her fingers curling in the bedcovers. It is only a week until her bleeding is due, she can survive a week. Her bleeding will come and she will be free after a week.
Just one week.
It is little comfort.
Already Marvel's walls feel as if they are closing in on her and she knows he has some scheme up his sleeve; he had been far too smug not to. Madge should get up and try to charm him and Glimmer, she knows that, but she's not sure she can. Marvel is a wicked, backstabbing, greedy, treacherous knave and the wounds he has dealt her are still too raw to be forgiven. His ambition had played the largest part in forcing them into exile and his greed had done more to drag England back into war than nearly anyone else's. It was his mess she'd had to fix by marrying Cato and he'd even betrayed his own father to his death. Haymitch had been no saint, but he deserved better than Marvel.
And as if that is not galling enough, he now stands high in Katniss' favour yet again, while she stands his prisoner. It is an injustice that sickens her stomach and kindles dry rage in her heart. He is the traitor and yet he has been rewarded. He has won. The vile, selfish monster has won. She doesn't think she can playact with him as if everything is fine, not after all he's done.
But, what of her mother and Annie? As much as he hates Marvel, as much as she can barely stomach Glimmer, she has to ask after them. She has to know they're alright and why they aren't here. Glimmer had returned home, why not the others?
It costs more effort than it should to push herself up but Madge does, thinking only of her mother and Annie. She will force herself to endure Marvel for their sakes. She shuffles to the door and pulls, but it does not open. She grips the handle with both hands but still the door does not budge. Bitter bile bubbles on her tongue. She truly is a prisoner, here in her step-brother's house.
Madge spits on the peacock carved into her door.
(Prim wakes in the morning and feels cold.
Darius had been so eager to touch her last night, to kiss her, to bury himself within her. She had felt none of that eagerness. He had been alight with passion and love had dripped from every word on his tongue. I love you, I missed you, you're so beautiful. Prim had felt no passion, no love. She had felt nothing.
She had done what she was supposed to, responded as she knew he'd want her to but she had felt like a player on stage. No, she had felt even less, like the audience watching a performance.
His arm is a heavy weight upon her and however much Katniss may have forgiven him, it appears Prim has not)
The day passes slowly.
Madge has seen no one but a maidservant, Katherine, who'd helped her dress and brought her something to eat. Otherwise she has been alone with nothing to do but think. There are no books in her room, no instruments, no embroidery or anything else to pass the time. She is alone with her thoughts and they are not the cheeriest of company. She'd only woken at midday and yet still, this day feels impossibly long.
And that's when she hears it.
Madge lies on her stomach and studies the floor, trying to decide if the mark she can see is a whorl or a scuff. She is still puzzling it through when a furious shout slaps against her door. It is an angry roar from downstairs and Madge bolts up. More furious words follow and she stares at the door, her heartbeat quickening. She scrambles from the bed and the covers tangle around her legs, but she hardly notices. They drag behind her as she molds herself against the door, her ear pressed to the wood. She cannot make out a single word being said, but the voice is unmistakable as it thunders through the house in rage.
It's Gale.
Her heart thumps loudly in her chest and she pushes herself into the door, her nails scarring its surface. Still she cannot make out his words, just the anger shaking his voice. Gale, Gale, I'm here! she wants to shout, but it wouldn't do any good. He would never be able to understand what she was saying and it is doubtful he would even hear her yelling over his own shouting. She closes her eyes, still straining to hear him, and there is a sudden crash. A door slamming? Madge rushes to her window and there he is, Gale, storming to the street. She bangs her hands futilely against the glass but he doesn't turn, his posture rigid and steps stiff. He climbs his horse and gallops away, her heart tugged out of her chest and pulled behind him. Oh Gale she thinks and presses her forehead to the cool glass.
She stays there long after he's disappeared from view, what's left of her her heart sore and her mind spinning.
What business did you have here? What were you yelling about?
What is going on?
Madge is still thinking about Gale's appearance at Cold Harbour when her door is unlocked and Katherine steps inside. She curtseys and Madge pulls herself from her thoughts.
"Excuse me, my lady, but the Earl requests your presence at dinner."
Madge stands and smiles. "Of course."
Good, now I can get some answers
She follows Katherine downstairs and into the dining hall where Marvel and Glimmer are already seated and waiting for her. Marvel sits at the head of the long table and beams as she steps inside. "Ah, sister darling! Come sit," he says and bounces to his feet. He strides to her side and she smiles at the floor because she cannot smile at him. His fingers clutch her elbow and press through her sleeve to her skin, her whole body itching to yank itself away. As much as she wants to she knows she can't and instead she allows him to steer her to the table. Her arm burns when he finally releases her and she sits in the chair he pulls out. Glimmer smiles at her from across the table and Madge smiles back even as suspicion bubbles within her.
"I do hope you are settling in well," Marvel says as he retakes his seat and Madge glances at the wall beside him.
"Oh yes, very well thank you. You have both been such gracious hosts."
"We are family, my sister, it is only right," Glimmer simpers and Madge dips her head in gratitude. It is bad enough Marvel calls her sister, she does think her stomach is ready for Glimmer to join in as well.
"Exactly, our home is your home." Marvel's voice is sweet in the sort of way that makes her organs ache and she forces down a gag. She is saved from having to say anything by the arrival of the first course which consists of an assortment of fruit dipped in syrup and all manner of old cheeses. There are no strawberries so Madge settles on a plum while Glimmer daintily nibbles a fig. Marvel begins to talk of something meaningless and Madge thinks of how to go about getting the answers she wants. The plum is oversweet as she chews and her teeth hurt, but she hardly notices. She must be careful about what she asks and how, for she cannot let these questions go unanswered. But how to make sure Marvel answers her?
Marvel finishes his story with a flourish of his hand and Glimmer giggles. Madge seizes her opportunity. "I beg your pardon at the interruption brother, but as we were speaking of family I find myself wondering of my mother and Lady Anne. I have not seen or heard from them since France and I find myself desperate for news."
It is Glimmer who answers. "Dear Mother is still at Beaulieu Abbey. She did not wish to travel back with me, I cannot understand why. As for that trollop Anne, she is gone. The Earl of Richmond absconded with her across the Channel. Disgraceful of course, leaving with a man who is neither blood nor husband. Then again, she is a Lancastrian and they are known for their loose morals."
Glimmer wrinkles her nose as she speaks and though Madge would like to defend Annie, she has to bite her tongue. Information is more important now than gallantry. Her mother is alive at least, though why is she still at Beaulieu? Did she truly not want to travel with Glimmer? Or had Glimmer left her behind? And what could be the reason behind either scenario? Madge bites her lip and Marvel smirks.
"Odair has always been a scoundrel, I can't say I'm surprised he's stolen the girl away to be his mistress."
Again Madge bites her tongue. Defending Finnick will do her no good.
"They are in France?" she asks and Marvel chortles.
"No, their ship was blown off course to Brittany. The Duke's taken them and Pembroke in."
They might have been safe in France, the King is Finnick's cousin, but Brittany...will they be safe there? Will the Duke protect them from the Yorkists who will certainly want them returned to England? Madge clenches her hands in her lap. There is nothing she can do and she hates how helpless she is. If they aren't safe...at least they are together. After everything, Finnick and Annie deserve to be together without parting. Even though she may never see them again, at least they have each other.
(that doesn't mean her heart isn't breaking though)
Oh Annie, be happy, be safe please. And you Finnick, oh please be safe.
"I would...like to write to my mother," Madge says and swallows the loneliness swelling in her throat. Marvel smiles as the dishes are cleared to make room for the second course.
"Of course, I shall be happy to have a messenger send it."
Magde nods as platters full of miniature pies are brought in, the strong smell of egg and mincemeat making her nauseous. She looks across the table at Glimmer.
"Did my mother say why she did not wish to accompany you?"
Glimmer chews her bite of pie slowly, her eyes fixed on the table. Even after she swallows she stays silent for a moment, her fingers clenching around her knife. "No," she says without looking up and Madge frowns. Glimmer's voice wobbles just a tad and Madge narrows her eyes. She is lying. She knows more than she'll say, but how to drag it out of her?
"Glimmer?" Marvel questions with suspicion rising in his voice and Madge looks over at him in surprise. His brows draw close together and he looks at his wife with narrowed eyes. It seems Madge is not the only one who can see there is more to tell. Glimmer releases her knife only for her hands to tremble. She tucks them into her lap.
"I...I do not wish to get her in trouble," she murmurs and Madge feels ice prickle her skin. What does that mean? What could her mother have said? Marvel sets his knife down with a clang against his plate.
"Don't be foolish Glimmer, we're all family here. Tell us now."
Glimmer hesitates a moment more before she finally relents. "Oh, she just...she said that as her life was drawing to a close, she would rather spend what days she had left in the sanctity of an abbey than in a Yorkist England." Glimmer keeps her eyes firmly on the table and Madge is frozen in her seat. None of this is true, it cannot be. Her mother has always prized survival and she would not abandon Madge, she wouldn't. This is a lie .
"Foolish," Marvel says with a scoff and picks up his knife. "I will write to her tomorrow and sort this all out." He returns to eating and Glimmer follows suit, but Madge cannot. She is alone, utterly, utterly alone and it is like a gnawing hole widening within her. Her appetite cannot survive it. The pies are taken away and replaced with meat, but Madge cannot pull her thoughts from her mother. Glimmer is lying. Mother would not choose to stay in Beaulieu, she wouldn't abandon me. She wouldn't. I do not know why, but Glimmer is lying.
I'll get you out Mother, I promise. We'll be together again.
The dessert comes and Madge knows she must pull herself together. There is still one question she must ask. Marvel's latest self-congratulatory tale comes to an end as he helps himself to a sugared crepe and Madge forces away her ache. She cannot squander this opportunity.
"Brother, I hope you do not find me too presumptuous in asking, but I heard raised voices this afternoon. Is something the matter?" It is more difficult than she'd have thought, but Madge drags her eyes to his face, molding her own into that of a concerned, loving sister. Marvel stills with his bite of crepe halfway to his mouth. Madge watches him in confusion as he sets down his food and smiles at her with twitching lips.
"Ah, so sorry to have disturbed you. It was nothing."
Glimmer makes a sound that seems to turn Marvel's smile painful. "It was merely a disagreement between colleagues, these things happen," he continues and Glimmer makes another noise. Marvel's eyes dart to her and his smile starts to slip into a grimace. "Honestly, you needn't concern yourself."
"Really?" Glimmer intrudes, clearly fed up with merely making sounds. Marvel glares at her. "I think she ought to know."
"You have no idea what you're talking about Glimmer, this is men's business. It is of no concern to either of you," he says firmly as his knuckles go white around his knife. Glimmer scoffs.
"I think it is of great concern to her as it was about her."
Marvel flinches and Madge sits up straighter in her chair. So Gale had come because of her. But why was he so angry? What could have caused such a quarrel?
"About me?" she questions softly and Marvel blows out a furious breath.
"Glimmer you are out of line, I will deal with you later." He turns to Madge and frowns in sympathy. "I had hoped to spare you this sister, but it appears I have no choice. My cousin Salisbury came to visit and he wished to speak to you. It was immediately clear he was in a foul temper so I refused. He took...great exception to that. He began yelling, cursing and threatening before he revealed to me just what it was he wished to say to you."
He pauses and Madge leans towards him. "It appears rumours have reached him about your marriage to Cato, specifically that it was your idea and not something Haymitch had forced upon you. Further reflection upon this fact led him to the conclusion that you were using him as you'd used Cato. He took a good deal of offense at this thought and...well, let us just say he no longer wishes to marry you."
Madge merely stares at him as Glimmer inserts herself into the conversation. "Oh the things he said, it was appalling! I have never heard such foul language in my life!"
"Well, my cousin has always suffered from an ill temper," Marvel says and offers Madge an apologetic look. "I know you are fond of him, which is why I hoped to hide this ugliness from you. Gale is…"
"A brute," Glimmer supplies and curls her mouth. "He always has been, even when we were children. Still, even knowing that I was horrified at the things he called you. Such words should never be used and especially not towards a lady."
Marvel sighs. "I was less concerned by his words than by what he might do to you should I let him see you. Gale's rages are usually physical, I was afraid he might hurt you."
"It would not be the first time he did such a thing," Glimmer says ominously. "That is why I thought it so important to inform you, I do not want you to blunder into a dangerous situation still thinking he is the charming knight who wooed you."
"I had wished to spare your feelings, my beloved sister, but perhaps it is better this way. I do hope we have not upset you too much?" Marvel asks and Madge summons up her voice.
"No, thank you. I...I am glad to know. May I be excused though, I...I should like to go to my room."
"Of course," Marvel says kindly and squeezes her hand. "Hoskins, escort my sister to her room." The servant hurries over and pulls out her chair. He bows and then leads her from the room, Marvel's sickly sweet voice following her out.
"If you need anything my sister, we are here for you. We will always be here for you."
Madge lies in bed and frowns at the ceiling.
Dinner tonight might have answered some of her questions, but it has given her just as many in return. She cannot, will not, believe Marvel's lies about Gale nor Glimmer's about her mother. She knows them both and they would never do what they're accused of. Her mother would never abandon her and Gale would never turn on her because of a rumour. He would give her the benefit of the doubt, he would trust her and talk to her. He has a temper, she knows that, but he is no brute. He wouldn't believe the worst of her, as she won't of him.
(though to be fair, there is at least some truth to what's been said about her)
But if these are lies, as she knows they are, why is Marvel telling them? He'd put a great deal of effort into trying to convince her Gale was both an awful person and that he'd given up on her, but why? And why leave her mother behind and tell Madge she'd chosen to remain? What does he hope to gain from either? Normally she'd guess it is to isolate her so she'd be more susceptible to the idea of marrying him, but he has Glimmer now and she was just as determined to spin these lies as Marvel.
So what? What are they planning?
(she is sure she doesn't want to find out)
Her second day in captivity passes much like the first.
Madge lies in bed with nothing to do and no one to talk to, boredom weighing her down into the mattress. She cannot even write to her mother as she'd wished to, for she has no parchment, no quill and no ink. She has only herself. If Marvel's plan is to drive her mad, he may well be onto something.
It is mid-afternoon by the look of the sun beyond her window and perhaps she could break the glass, scale down the side of the house to the front garden and flee into the streets. Even if she fell and broke both her legs, she could still drag herself by the arms. Admittedly she doesn't know where she'd go, because if she went to court they'd only bring her back. Maybe she could steal a horse and ride home to Bedford Castle. Once she married she became Duchess of Bedford as per the Queen's conditions, they couldn't really drag her from her own castle, could they? Of course they could, as her mother would say, that is the privilege of royalty.
The door that slams somewhere below her is so loud it makes her jump and crack her head against the headboard. She bites her lip against an unladylike curse and then perks up as one angry voice rises up from downstairs. Gale. Madge stumbles from her bed and trips into her door, her face pushing as far as possible into the wood. Just like yesterday she cannot hear what he's saying but it's him, he's here. Of course, there is still nothing she can do about it. She cannot contact him, but what would it change if she could? It is the Queen's order that she stay here until her bleeding comes; Gale cannot change that. Still, even just to write him and to see his words splayed out in ink upon a page would be a balm to her confinement. Annie is in Brittany, her mother in Beaulieu and Gale beyond a door she cannot unlock. Even as she can hear his voice, she is alone.
Gale's voice cuts off and she moves to the window. He is not alone this time, Thom is with him and she watches the both of them escorted away by armed men. Gale shoves one of their hands from his arm and says something she can tell is very rude, her ribs aching around her heart. She curls her hands against the glass and they are both on their horses, neither one glancing in her direction.
They gallop off down London's streets while Madge stands alone in her room.
(of all the things she has suffered, loneliness is the heaviest of them all)
Marvel summons her to dinner again and this time it is Madge who starts the conversation.
"I was wondering if I might have some parchment and ink to write to my mother," she says and watches Marvel's expression closely. He smiles and she doesn't trust it, but then, who would? He is a snake.
"Of course, forgive me for neglecting to have them sent to you today."
Madge accepts his apology with a smile and then continues her attack, for she knows any pause will allow one of them to sneak in a long, pointless story. "As well, I confess myself worried for my safety brother. I saw the Earl of Salisbury escorted away by armed guards."
"We should all be worried with that scoundrel about," Glimmer mutters and Marvel gives her a sharp look. He turns back to Madge with a reassuring smile, one of his hands coming to rest on hers. Her skin seems to curl at the contact.
"You needn't worry sister sweet, today's argument had nothing to do with you. We had a political disagreement, that is all."
Madge does not believe a word of it but waits patiently. She needn't wait for long; Glimmer is always happy to spill a secret. "It was about Coriolanus' death," she pipes up and Marvel slams his hand down on the table. The dishes rattle, a wine goblet falls to the floor with a clang and Marvel snarls low in his throat.
"Glimmer! You need to learn to hold your tongue!"
"Forgive me, my lord," she says though she sounds anything but contrite. Madge feels short of breath. Coriolanus...dead? It doesn't feel possible. All her life he has been the monster stalking her every moment, has the Devil truly come to reclaim him?
"He is dead?" she asks softly and Marvel deflates. He takes her hand again and squeezes.
"Yes, his body is on display right now in fact. Officially it was a broken heart. Supposedly the death of his son hit him very hard."
Glimmer, not even pretending she intends to learn to hold her tongue, carries on the tale. "Rumour has it that it was a broken head that really killed him. As long as he lives he is a threat to the Yorkists, so Queen Katniss ordered Salisbury to take care of him. So he did."
Madge lets the sordid story sink in. Cato's death would not break Coriolanus' heart, his only love has always been himself. But if it wasn't a broken heart, was it truly murder? He was a threat yes and a terrible person, but he was also an old man locked in a tower. Had Katniss really ordered him killed? Had Gale truly carried out that order? He was defenseless, but he was also Coriolanus. His crimes, had he been anyone but a king, would have sent him to the gallows. But did that make it right to murder him while he was in their custody?
"Enough Glimmer," Marvel snaps. "But yes, those are the rumours. Of course, rumours of such a nature always arise when a deposed king dies. I merely asked Salisbury for the truth of the matter. As a valued and essential member of this family, I deserve the truth. Salisbury, notorious for his belligerence, did not agree. He accused me of treason for questioning the Queen's official statement and then threatened to chop off my head right there in the entrance hall. At that point I saw fit to have him removed; I will not be threatened by my odious cousin in my own home."
Madge nods as if she agrees but she is barely listening. Again, Marvel has painted as unflattering a portrait of Gale as he can. Why? Why is he so determined to turn her from him? And Coriolanus, is he truly dead? Did the Yorkists do it?
It was meant to be over now, the murder, the intrigue, the scandals, secrets and lies. But here England is, still steeped in shadows.
Maybe peace really is an impossible dream.
(Madge barely sleeps that night, her mind caught on Coriolanus and the truly un-Christian thought that she is glad he's dead)
(what wicked times these are)
Gale does not come back the next day, nor in the days that follow.
Madge understands.
(she doesn't stop hoping though)
(she's not sure she can)
Nine days after she'd first come to Cold Harbour, Madge wakes to the most beautiful pain.
For a moment she does not move, even as the pain is so awful she could cry. She presses her face deeper into her pillow and fists her hands in the covers, before she blows out steadily. She rolls over and lifts the blankets before pulling up her nightgown. Tears do spring to her eyes this time, but not from the pain. This time it is from relief. Running down her legs and staining both the bed and her nightgown is blood, dark, scarlet and magnificent.
Her bleeding has come. She isn't pregnant.
Madge falls back with a laugh and even through the agony, she could get up and dance. Her prayers have been answered. There is no Lancastrian heir growing within her; freedom is still possible. Thank you God, thank you thank you thank you.
All she needs to do now is tell Marvel and she will be free to go.
After all this time, she can finally go home.
Thank you, thank you
Madge is practically vibrating as she waits for Katherine to arrive, her buoyant mood nearly lifting her up to the ceiling and out the window. The sheets are pulled back so the blood is clearly visible and Madge sits on the edge of the bed in her stained nightgown. Her joy has managed even to eclipse the agony still cutting through her, a smile unable to stay off of her face. After so much ill fortune, she has finally been blessed. It feels good.
The door opens and Katherine comes hurrying in, her face ashen and her eyes wide. She immediately grabs Madge's one and only travelling gown, her hands shaking as she rushes over to Madge's side. "We must hurry, my lady. The Earl wishes us gone within the hour."
Madge blinks at her and feels her happy news stall on her tongue. "Why? Is something happening in London?" And just like that she is plunged into cold water. Has peace truly only lasted a few days? Is war already upon them again?
"The plague," Katherine whispers. "The plague is swarming the streets, badly, so very badly." On one hand Madge feels the knot in her stomach release, for it is not a resumption of hostilities. Of course, on the other hand, anxiety blooms in every inch of her, for the plague is an enemy even more merciless. She stands and pulls off her nightgown, Katherine releasing a small gasp.
"Your bleeding," she murmurs and Madge nods. Katherine sets down her dress and rushes from the room to fetch supplies while Madge clenches her teeth at fate's mockery. So close, but never close enough. Marvel will have to write to Katniss to announce her bleeding and then Katniss will have to write back giving her permission for Madge to leave, and there is no time for that now. If the plague is in the city, her first priority must be to get away.
This sentence must last a bit longer it seems.
They travel a very long way from London, all the way north to Alnwick Castle.
Madge peeks out the carriage window as they approach while Glimmer complains bitterly of the long ride. "Of all his castles, he just had to pick this one. He has so many castles, but of course he picks the farthest! We might not die of the plague, but my bones have been so jostled out of place I shall never recover," she rants and Madge nods without listening. Alnwick is an imposing fortress and the seat of the Earl of Northumberland's power. This is the worst place they could have gone.
"I am sore everywhere! I'm tired and I don't want to be in this dress anymore," Glimmer continues and it is a miracle she can even stand herself. The carriage pulls to a halt and Madge is out in a moment, her feet leading her directly to Marvel. He has just gotten down from his horse with orders already issuing from his mouth, his green eyes bouncing from groom to servant to litter full of luggage. Madge waits for him to pause for breath and launches in.
"My dear lord brother," she says and he turns.
"Wha-oh, Madge. What might I do for you?" He is trying his best to be pleasant, but his face cannot hide his annoyance at her interruption. His smile is tight, his eyes dark and narrow. Madge doesn't particularly care.
"My bleeding has come," she announces and his expression turns blank. He stares at her so long she feels the need to say it again. "My bleeding has come. Will you write to the Queen?"
He shakes himself. "Wonderful. Yes, of course. As soon as we've settled in." Madge stares at him and knows she cannot trust his word. Perhaps he can tell, for he adds, "You may read it if you wish and watch the messenger ride out with it."
"I would like that very much," she says and knows her smile is flinty. Marvel nods his head.
"Lovely. I know you are anxious for this to be over; we all are. Let us give thanks that the cursed line of Lancaster has finally come to an end."
(except it hasn't, has it? There is still her mother, herself and Finnick far away in Brittany)
(their blood is still lancaster red)
Marvel writes his letter the next day while Madge stands behind him and reads over his shoulder. The missive is brief, to the point and has her heart racing in anticipation of Katniss' reply.
My dear beloved cousin and Queen,
I am very pleased to inform you that Lady Madge has received her monthly bleeding. I await your instructions on how to proceed.
Yours most sincerely,
Marvel, Earl of Northumberland
Madge watches Marvel pour the wax and press his seal down to close it, watches him hand it off to a messenger and stands at the window to watch that messenger ride off into the distance. It will take time to reach Katniss and more for her answer to arrive, but still, this nightmare is nearly done.
She smiles at her reflection in the glass. It has been a long fight; she is ready to lay down her arms.
Joining Glimmer in her solar is not what Madge would usually consider enjoyable, but then, it beats another day locked alone in her room. The Steward delivers the summons just after midday and Madge follows him downstairs. As nice as it is to have a break from her normal monotony, she would be a fool not to be suspicious. She and Glimmer have never been close, so why is Glimmer suddenly craving her company? There's an ulterior motive here, Madge just has to figure out what it is.
"My lady," the Steward says as he bows low. He opens a door for her and she steps through. Glimmer's solar is a large semi-circular room bathed in sunshine. Tall windows make up nearly three quarters of the walls, the sunlight streaming through. Bright blossoms sit in ornate pots in a row below those windows, while a cluster of chairs in the far right holds Glimmer's ladies. They have embroidery on their laps but do not make use of it, all their attention focused on Glimmer. She holds court in the center of the room, her chair glinting with gold edges.
"I hate journeying all the way up here, it's always wretched but I can't say I'm all that sorry to be away from court. Idiots and fools are the only people that seem to cluster there, it's awful. Spending any length of time in their company makes my brain feel as if it's rotting. Oh there you are, you certainly took long enough," she says and waves Madge over to a chair on her left. Madge sits and Glimmer continues her tirade. "God help me, but the Countess of Ormond has a brain the size of a walnut. Worse is the fact that she feels the need to insert herself into every conversation and regale us with her worthless opinions, which are about as useful as a rat's. She knows absolutely nothing but you'd never guess by the amount of talking she does! I'm not sure she's capable of keeping her mouth shut. She's like a dumb dog, following you everywhere you go and yipping about nothing. No wonder her husband dips into every inkwell he can. Maybe that's why she's so stupid, her brain's been addled by whatever diseases he's brought home. Have you any idea how many women he's had? It's disgusting, he's an animal. And I hear, the fouler the better as far as he's concerned. I'm sure you've heard the same."
It takes Madge a moment to realize Glimmer's waiting for her answer rather than one from her ladies. Of course looking at their faces, Madge isn't sure they'd ever dare speak in Glimmer's presence. "Oh, I...no, I haven't heard anything about the Earl of Ormond." Glimmer makes a noise in the back of her throat.
"You obviously haven't been listening well enough, everyone knows about his proclivity for the dirtiest and most unsavory women in the kingdom. Of course, he's not the only useless clod at court, Lord Howard is an absolute oaf with the coordination of a demented horse. He breaks everything he touches and ruins everything else. You should have seen what he did to my new sleeve when I was unfortunate enough to sit next to him at dinner! Completely destroyed it! My new sleeve!"
Madge actually remembers that moment but wisely keeps to herself that a bit of soup on the fabric hardly counts as complete destruction. She doubts Glimmer would appreciate her opinion on the matter.
"And don't get me started on Mary de Vere, that woman is the Whore of Babylon herself. She has six children and I'm certain not one of them belongs to her husband. Even more, I'd bet each one has a different father all together! There's not a man alive or dead she wouldn't lift her skirts for, it's disgraceful. Much like that Anne Cresta, rushing off to be Richmond's mistress, how debasing. She was an earl's daughter and now she's lowered herself to the level of common whore. Then again, Lancastrians have never had any morals, her Richmond is no different. What a wastrel he is, completely incompetent and an utter cox-comb."
Madge's hands shake with rage but she knows better than to say anything. She pushes her hands into her lap and bites her tongue, her hatred of Glimmer boiling up within her. She is hateful, spiteful and nothing but nasty, but Madge won't rise to her bait. That is surely what she wants.
"Salisbury's a brute, and an oversexed one at that! You should have heard him bragging about all the women he'd bedded in Burgundy! Disgusting. How fortunate you've managed to evade him sister. Cray was just like him, but at least we won't have to deal with him any longer."
Implying Gale is anything like Cray makes Madge want to slap Glimmer's smug face, but she can't. She can't, no matter how tempting. And it is tempting. Very, very tempting.
But wait? Why is Cray no longer a threat?
"Has something happened to Sir Cray?" she interrupts and Glimmer's ladies stare at her in horror. She has clearly broken one of the cardinal rules of Glimmer's solar. Fortunately, it seems Cray's demise is juicy enough that Glimmer merely smiles broadly at the idea of explaining it.
"Cray? Oh yes, a great deal's happened. He's been stripped of his land and knighthood, he's been forced to pay massive fines to his victims and he's slated to be executed. Apparently he's been forcing himself on all sorts of women, especially those in dire straits. Someone informed the Queen of his unseemly conduct and he's now to pay for it." Glimmer sounds positively delighted to relay the information and Madge feels her stomach drop out. It can't be a coincidence; she is the reason Cray is about to lose his head. It was her words that brought this sentence down upon him and she cannot hear what else Glimmer says. She touches her lips and she never would have believed her words could have such power.
A man is soon to die because of what she'd said. A terrible man, a monster, but still, her words did this. She doesn't know how to feel about that.
(she does know how she should feel about Cray's death though)
(remorseful, horrified, dismayed)
(as wicked as it might make her, she doesn't feel any of those things)
(not one)
The days of anticipation are long, but finally they come to an end.
Katherine dresses her in the morning and then curtseys. "The Earl wishes to see you, my lady," she murmurs and Madge feels her whole body lift with excitement. The Queen's letter has come, I'm free! She follows Katherine downstairs, her every inch buzzing. After years of struggle, she can now go home and forget all about politics and turmoil. She can be happy, safe, with her mother and Gale too. They can live a good life.
"Come in, come in," Marvel calls cheerily when she knocks on his study door. She steps inside and smiles at him, perhaps the only genuine smile she's ever given him. He smiles back.
"The Queen has written," he says and waves a letter at her, the royal seal clearly visible. She shivers with anticipation and finally, the words she's been waiting for are finally here. "She is very pleased at your bleeding, but she thinks you should stay here another month just in case."
Fury rises in her, so blood red and hot she is blinded and deafened by it. Stay here? STAY HERE? What reason could Katniss have for such cruelty? What possible reason?
"I know this isn't what you were hoping for, but the Queen wishes to be extra cautious in this. Some women still bleed lightly even when they are with child and your flow was not particularly heavy this month. She just wishes to make certain you aren't pregnant."
Madge wants to scream. She doesn't. She smiles, nods her head and says instead, "If that is what the Queen thinks is best." She turns to leave then, because she cannot stay a moment longer. Her scream nearly chokes her and Marvel's oily voice follows her out.
"It is for the best, I promise."
(and if Katherine comes to the Lady Madge's room the next morning to find the mirror smashed, the drawers pulled out onto the floor and a pillow torn open with its feathery contents strewn in every direction, she'll keep it to herself)
(and if there is blood on Lady Madge's knuckles, well, Katherine can understand why)
Madge is not so lonely anymore.
She has fury to keep her company.
(Prim kisses her son's soft head and passes him to Darius. Humphrey is a happy, giggly baby and Prim cannot help the smile that touches her face every time she looks at him. He is the sweetest baby in the world, she is sure of it.
"I still cannot believe this precious boy is ours," Darius says in wonderment and Prim feels her smile wilt. Darius holds Humphrey ever so carefully, just as he always does, but there is dread in her stomach as she watches him touch her baby. The sun is bright and warm overhead and Prim tries to banish her ill feeling as she sits in the grass, but it does not leave her. Darius settles down before her and leans into her chest, his vibrant red hair tickling her chin. She moves her fingers through the strands as she knows he loves her to do and tries to remind herself that they are happy.
The breeze is fragrant with fresh blossoms and Prim breathes in deeply. She is happy, Darius is happy, Humphrey is happy, their whole family is happy. They are together, they are safe and they have Katniss' forgiveness and blessing. The dread in her gut only grows. Darius rocks Humphrey in his arms and sings a lullaby, her baby sighing as his father's voice cradles him to sleep. The scene should warm her heart.
Prim shivers from the cold)
(Katniss stares at the blood on her sheets.
Her bleeding has come exactly on time, as it always does. She isn't pregnant. For England, this is a terrible disappointment. The kingdom needs an heir and soon. For Katniss, it is also a disappointment, but much as she'd deny it, it is also a relief. She knows it's wrong, she knows how important it is that she have a child, but even still, all the way at the bottom of her heart, she is reluctant to have one. Her child deserves so much better than she will ever be able to give it.
A cramp throbs within her and she grimaces. She climbs from bed and where do we keep the supplies for this again?
"Katniss?" She turns and Peeta is mumbly with sleep, his hand reaching blindly for her. He stops when he realizes she isn't there.
"Shhh, go back to sleep. It's still early," she whispers.
"Then why are you up?" he asks as he props himself up on an elbow and rubs at his eyes. She sighs. Every month she tells him this, it gets harder and harder.
"My bleeding's come."
For a moment, he cannot hide how crushed he really is. He so badly wants a child, not just for England, but for them. She hates having to break his heart each and every month. But then, as always, he smiles.
"It's alright," he says and reaches out a hand. She sits back down and takes it. "It has only been a few months of trying."
She settles back against the headboard. "Perhaps, but it only needs one time." Peeta scoots closer and rests his chin on her shoulder.
"Exactly, so we simply have to keep trying until we hit upon that magic one time. Unless of course, you've grown tired of trying?" She cannot see his face but she doesn't need to to know the cheeky grin he is definitely sporting. Katniss rolls her eyes.
"Sometimes I think you are a thoughtful, sensitive, mature man, but then I always realize I'm wrong."
Peeta laughs. "Would you prefer it if I thought you were hideous and loathed having to touch you? I could always pretend as much, if it'll help." She turns her head to look at him and raises an eyebrow.
"Who said anything about pretending? Maybe I find you revolting and absolutely hate spending the night with you."
Peeta shrugs. "Then I must commend you on your acting ability my queen, for you certainly didn't seem to find me all that revolting last night."
"Ugh, you've been spending too much time with Gale," she says with a blush and Peeta laughs. She leans into him and he puts an arm around her middle and squeezes.
"Katniss," he says, soft and sincere, "I love you and I know we will have a baby someday."
"You do?"
"Yes. We will have children, not just for England, but for ourselves as well. We will be a very happy family my love, even with the burdens of the crown. I believe that."
Katniss cannot help but smile. "You know, I think I do too.")
The days seem to crawl past until finally her bleeding comes again, this time in late June.
The room is uncomfortably warm when Madge wakes up and there is an awful pain in her lower stomach, like claws trying to tear their way out. She lifts the bedcovers to see red stains on the sheets and blood running down her legs and sighs in relief. Two months of bleeding, she cannot possibly be pregnant. God has answered her prayers and spared her.
(or perhaps it was spite that forced her body to bleed)
(it doesn't matter, God or spite, she has triumphed here)
Madge marches to Marvel's study with a red faced Katherine trailing after her, Madge's bloody sheets clutched in her arms. The maid is clearly embarrassed, but Madge isn't taking any chances. She wants evidence when she faces Marvel, to ensure he cannot argue out of letting her leave. Her bleeding has come, two months in a row just like the Queen wanted. It is time for her to leave.
Various servants stare as they make their way down the halls, but Madge couldn't care less. She knocks firmly on Marvel's door as soon as she reaches it and pushes inside before he has a chance to answer. He looks up from a large stack of parchment with narrowed eyes and an ugly scowl, black ink stains splashed across his fingers. He grips his quill tight in aggravation and opens his mouth to say something rude no doubt, but stops short when he sees her. His head lurches back and he stares at her, clearly blindsided. Madge can't help a dark pleasure in that. Marvel clears his throat.
"Sister...what are you doing here?" he asks and Madge smiles grimly. She'd ordered, begged, cajoled, bribed and anything else she could think of to make Katherine let her out of her room, something Marvel obviously hadn't anticipated. If he'd wanted her locked in there for good, he should've posted a guard.
"I have wonderful news. My bleeding has come again," she announces and gestures at Katherine. The maid lets the bed sheets unfurl, the red swath in the middle speaking louder than any words. Marvel stares at the stain, his face pales and then he turns to her with a queasy expression. He'd fought and killed in battle, but this was sickening? Madge has to fight down her snort.
"That is...excellent," he manages, a strange hoarseness coming over his voice. He frowns and clears his throat. "The Queen will be most pleased. I will write to her immediately to share this most fortunate news." He smiles and waits for her to leave. She doesn't. The smile on his lips wavers as he clears his throat again.
"Is there something else?"
Madge smiles this time, though there is no warmth in it. "Yes, brother dearest. I was just wondering when I might be free to return to my properties? They have long been without proper management."
"Ah, yes. Soon, very soon. Quite soon, yes, I promise. Soon." His voice is tense, his smile threatened by frustration and Madge does not push for a more concrete date. She wants to, she wants to desperately, but she knows patience is a virtue (her least favourite one to be sure). Freedom is so very close at hand, she will not jeopardize it now. Marvel will surely scramble to find some way to keep her here, but there will be nothing he can do. Whatever nonsense he is up to up is over. Soon, she will leave this place.
Until then she will wait.
(at least for a while)
The days slide over her like water, each one just the same as the last. Mornings alone in her room, afternoons listening to Glimmer complain and then supper with her and Marvel. One day soon, Marvel had promised, she would be free to go. She just needs to hold on to soon.
Except weeks go by and soon never comes.
(she's starting to think it never will)
(Gale stabs his knife into his venison with far more force than necessary, the whole table trembling beneath him. He doesn't notice.
(everyone else at the table does though)
He saws through the meat and tries to stay calm. It doesn't work. Soon , Katniss' latest letter had promised, soon. He is so bloody tired of soon!
He needs it to be now or he might go mad.
Fuck soon.
Fuck fuck fuck )
Madge sits at her window and stares at the birds. They hop from branch to branch in the tree just beyond the glass and oh how she envies their freedom. If she could she would fly to Bedford Castle, far from Marvel and court and politics.
She would fly home.
Madge stands and strides to the door. She is tired of waiting and empty promises. She had resolved to wait, to let Marvel tire himself out looking for reasons to trap her here so she would be sure he couldn't drag her back after she'd gone, but she's had enough.
It is time she found out when soon really is.
Madge barges into Marvel's study without knocking and he jumps behind his desk. He fumbles the parchment he'd been holding and his eyes are wide as he takes her in. She meets his gaze with defiance.
"Madge," he says and something she cannot identify lingers in his voice. She brushes it aside. Her purpose is not to puzzle Marvel out, it is to get answers. And she will get them.
"We have something to discuss brother," she says and he swallows.
"Indeed we do." Madge frowns at his grave tone. He sighs and presses his lips together. "I have received word from Beaulieu Abbey."
Madge feels her courage flounder. "From my mother?"
He shakes his head and the pity in his eyes is terrifying. "No, from the Abbot. I am so very sorry."
Madge backs away without trying to, horror nearly choking her. "No," she whispers but Marvel's sympathetic smile says yes .
"Mother is gone Madge, she has passed on."
Grief is the ocean, deep, dark, unfathomable.
Madge sinks to its very depths.
(Marvel is shuffling through the many documents on his desk when there is a knock at the door.
"Come in," he calls and Madge's maid Katherine steps inside. She curtseys low. He cannot help but smile. "Ah, Katherine. Tell me, how is my sister?"
"Very sad, my lord. She lies in bed crying, she will not get up." Marvel feels his smile grow. This was exactly the news he'd been hoping for.
"How awful," he murmurs and Katherine nods.
"It has been days, my lord. I am worried."
"As am I," he assures her. "Your concern is appreciated, but I will take care of my sister, you needn't worry about that. Dismissed."
Katherine curtseys again and leaves, shutting the door behind her. Marvel leans back in his chair and feels victory surge over him. Everything is going so very, very well. Mother Dearest died at just the right moment. Madge is nearly destroyed and then he will have everything he deserves. There is only one step left to his plan and then no one will ever be his equal.
He has been cheated, mistreated and abused, but finally, Marvel Abernathy is going to collect his dues)
"Tell me it isn't true!"
"Do not raise your voice with me."
"I demand to know if it's true!"
"You will not make demands of me Glimmer!"
Madge blinks as the angry words wash over her, their sharp tips sinking into the haze in her mind. What...what's going on?
"I deserve to know! You owe me an explanation!"
"I owe you nothing."
Something tickles the back of her mind and without realizing it, she uncurls from the ball she'd formed herself into beneath the blankets. There is something familiar about what's happening and even with the pain, her sluggish brain cannot help trying to figure out what.
"It's true isn't it? You'd say so if it wasn't. How could you? Don't walk away from me, don't you dare!"
Harfleur...this is like Harfleur. It comes to her slowly, but she remembers her bedroom in Harfleur, remembers the things she used to hear through the walls. Glimmer and Marvel are fighting again, but why? A small part of her mind shouts, get up! Find out why! but then, what's the point? asks the much larger part. What does it matter why they're fighting, what does anything matter? What does it matter if she spends the rest of her life locked in this room? There is nothing left for her out there.
Survive, you must survive my darling
This voice is softer, kinder than the one that's been shouting at her, but tears burn in her eyes as she hears it. Her mother's voice, but not truly. Her mother is dead.
Do not give up. Survive, my dearest Madge, you must survive
More insistent now and soon that little voice of her own joins in. Survive, survive for mother and father, who would want nothing else. Do not let the enemy win.
Tears spill down her cheeks and she knows what she should do, but the pain is still so fresh. Grief is a mountain she does not know how to climb alone. Always she has had a bigger purpose, someone else to protect. Now there is only her and it is much harder to be strong for herself than it was to be strong for everyone else.
Be brave, sweet Madge
I will be Papa
She'd promised him, hadn't she? And she'd promised her mother she'd survive. If she cannot climb from bed for herself, she will do it for them.
(even if it aches)
(and it does, oh God it does)
The tears continue to slither down her cheeks but she feels her watery limbs strengthen just enough. Her heart is still broken, but she will not let her parents down. She cannot bear to.
Survive, that had been her mother's mantra and Madge will carry it on.
Papa, Mama, I will survive
You'll see, I'll make you proud
Everyday the Steward comes to her room to ask if she is feeling well enough to join Glimmer in her solar. Today, Madge says yes.
(lying, it seems, is still too easy)
He leads her through the halls and she feels light as a ghost, almost as if she isn't really there. She is floating through a fog, one she must fight through. Grief is just another enemy she must defeat. The Steward stops in front of the solar door, his face drawn and uncomfortable.
"My lady," he murmurs with a bow and then opens the door. Madge steps inside, cautious of what she might find. Glimmer's sobbing voice greets her and Madge pauses just beyond the doorway. Glimmer is seated on the floor beside her usual chair, her hennin askew, her hair tumbling out from beneath it and her fists pounding uselessly on the stone floor. Her ladies sit huddled together with pale faces, their frightened eyes fixed on Glimmer.
"It's not fair!" she wails, "After everything I've been through, to be so callously thrown aside, it isn't fair! I deserve better!" Glimmer flails her arms about and Madge stands frozen, unsure what she should say or do. Is Glimmer suggesting that Marvel plans to leave her? But why? And what will it mean for Madge if he does?
"Come to gloat?" Glimmer screeches and Madge is so surprised she cannot answer. She'd been so lost in thought she hadn't realized Glimmer had noticed her. "You want to rub it in my face that you've won, is that it?"
Madge shakes her head, perplexed and, deep down, terrified. Glimmer pushes herself up, her eyes wild. She hisses like an enraged goose and advances towards Madge, her chest heaving. Madge backs up only to bump into the now closed door.
"I won't be removed that easy, especially not by the likes of you!" Glimmer continues and throws herself at Madge. Madge, half-certain she is dreaming this unexpected turn of events, dives sideways to avoid the assault and trips over her skirts.
"Glimmer, please, I have no idea what you're talking about," she says and tries to scramble up.
"Countess of Northumberland! I am Her Grace, the Countess of Northumberland! " Glimmer screams and Madge is stunned silent. She doesn't have a chance to reply, for Glimmer is suddenly upon her, her sharp nails dragging down her cheek.
"You can't push me aside, I won't let you!" Glimmer wails as Madge desperately tries to fend off her attacks. She shoves as hard as she can but Glimmer doesn't go, her nails hooked into the fabric of Madge's sleeve. Glimmer pulls an hand back and Madge flings her arms up to block the blow.
"What on Earth are you talking about, your ladyship?" she demands (being very certain to get the form of address right lest she provoke Glimmer worse) and Glimmer pummels her arms with frenzied fists.
"You want to steal my title! My husband! But you won't! I won't let you!"
Madge is so shocked by such a ludicrous claim she lets her arms drop, only for Glimmer's palm to collide with her jaw. Her head lurches back and Glimmer pushes forward, the both of them tumbling backwards. Glimmer's elbow sinks into Madge's stomach and she feels the air rush out of her.
"I'm not," she gasps, "I would never. Never." She pushes again and this time she succeeds. Glimmer squeals as she falls onto her back and Madge hurriedly gets to her feet.
"I don't know what's given you such a terribly false idea, but I promise you, I have no interest or intention of taking your husband or title!" she insists and Glimmer, red-faced and teary eyed, glares up at her. Madge brings a hand up to her stinging cheek and winces as the fingers come away red. Glimmer bursts into tears. Madge looks down in bemusement. I must be dreaming. I have to be.
"Marvel is going to have our marriage annulled; he is going to leave me! I was always his second choice, but you, you're the prize he's always wanted. He will abandon me for you and you will take everything from me! He is a liar and a cad and this isn't fair!"
Madge feels the ground vanish beneath her feet.
Oh God, please let this be a dream
She does not want Glimmer to be right, but horrifyingly it seems she might be.
Madge goes to dinner that night and Marvel is all smiles and compliments. He pulls out her chair, kisses the tip of each finger on her left hand and then spends the evening extolling the many virtues of his titles and grand estates. He invites her to walk in the gardens with him, offers to buy her anything she desires and strokes her hand incessantly. She turns down each and every offer, but it does nothing to deter him. "Perhaps another day," he croons and Madge fears he will ask and ask and ask until she says yes.
He is not nearly so attentive to his wife.
Glimmer is not invited to come walking with them, Glimmer is ignored at dinner and no one pulls out her chair. She sits silently across the table from Madge, her glittering green eyes slits of fury as she gazes at her husband. He doesn't seem to notice.
Worse, is that this is not an isolated incident. Every dinner is the same and Marvel does not call her sister anymore, but 'Dear' and 'Darling' and 'Beloved Madge'. It is hard to believe, but she actually wishes he would go back to calling her 'sister sweet'. Marvel and Glimmer continue to argue, their hurled words filling the house. Glimmer sometimes disappears for days, locked up in her room as punishment for her insolence. Glimmer tells Madge all about it when they sit in her solar, of the punishments, the insults and the disrespect Marvel heaps upon her.
"As soon as your mourning period is over, he will marry you," Glimmer swears and begins to sob as she curses his name. Madge watches her sister-in-law throw her tantrum and might be sick.
This is a nightmare.
"You cannot do this to me!" Glimmer's shrill voice screeches under the door and Madge wishes she could block it all out.
"I am your husband, I may do as I wish," Marvel replies coldly. They are just beyond her bedroom door it seems, their latest fight so close she feels as if she is right in the midst of it.
"I have done so much for you, you can't just toss me aside!"
"You overestimate yourself."
Madge stands from the bed and gathers up her covers. She tries to ignore Glimmer's increasingly frantic arguments, her voice slipping from furious to pleading. Madge kneels before the door and pushes the covers underneath. It will not silence them, but perhaps it will help. She prays it will help.
"I have supported you through everything! I have stood by you and suffered for you. Please, my lord, I have been nothing but a loyal wife to you. Do not disgrace me so, I beg you, do not ruin me like this."
Madge closes her eyes and wishes she couldn't hear the sorrow in Glimmer's entreaties. She does not want to cry for Glimmer, but she cannot help it. She is no friend of Madge's, but she has stood by Marvel through so very much. This is just cruel of him.
"I need a son Glimmer, something you are clearly incapable of giving me. Do not blame me for your failure. If you are disgraced, it is no one's fault but your own. Now get up before you embarrass yourself any further."
Madge listens to Marvel walk away and to Glimmer sob just outside her locked door and feels hate throb within her. He is a monster. Everyone he touches suffers.
please God, let him be the one to suffer next
Madge picks delicately at her embroidery while Glimmer sits beside her, pale, red-eyed and hollow cheeked. No one says a word, the only sound in the room Glimmer's miserable sniffles. Madge feels her chest ache but she has no idea what to say to make this better. Her hands shake as she stitches, from pity and anger both. Glimmer blows her nose loudly into a silk handkerchief.
"I doubt my father will take me back once Marvel rids himself of me, not after such a public disgrace," she bawls and Madge winces. "And who will wish to marry me now that Marvel has declared me barren? I shall end up in the street!" Glimmer dissolves into tears and buries her face in her hands. Her ladies are still as statues, heads determinedly bowed and Madge throbs with empathy. She can understand Glimmer's fears as well as her helplessness, but what can she do about it?
"I'm sure that's not true," she says even though she can't be sure at all. Glimmer takes no comfort from her words and only sobs harder. She slides off her chair to the floor in a heap, her whole body shaking. Madge swells with uselessness but she sets down her embroidery and kneels by Glimmer's side. She runs a hand down Glimmer's back, desperately searching for something to say.
"Fate can sometimes be very cruel and the men in our lives equally so, but you mustn't give up." The words are empty even to her own ears, but they are the only ones she can think to say. Glimmer inhales wetly.
"I suppose you have great experience with that," she mumbles to the floor and Madge nods.
"I do."
Glimmer is quiet a moment, her breathing heavy. Madge continues to stroke her back. "How do you survive it? Tossed from man to man as if you are nothing more than a hat?" Glimmer asks and tilts her head to look up at Madge. One deep green eye watches her with misery and the faintest glimmer of hope, but Madge is not sure she can give Glimmer the answer she wants.
"It isn't easy. I hate it, I always have but I've had little choice. Sometimes we must suffer to survive." It is a bleak offering and Glimmer buries her face back into the floor with a wail.
"And soon you shall be claimed by Marvel once he's thrown me out like rubbish!"
"I won't marry Marvel," Madge vows, "I won't." Glimmer looks up at her again.
"How can you not?" she asks and Madge feels her insides tighten. It is illegal to force someone into marriage, but she doubts that will stop him. He could lie and bribe his way into being her husband and keep her locked away so she might never reveal the truth. Her inheritance will be all the incentive he needs. She needs to escape, but how? Glimmer grabs her arm tightly.
"Join a convent. Right now, before he can stop you. If you marry God you cannot marry him, or anyone else. You can finally be free of these powerful men."
Madge stares at her and suddenly everything clicks into place.
"I will get you the parchment and ink you need to write to the nearest convent and I will ensure it gets delivered, I still have authority enough for that."
Oh they've been clever, very clever. But not nearly clever enough.
"Once they've received your letter, you will be safe from Marvel and any other man who wishes to take possession of you. And I will join you there if Marvel still sees fit to toss me aside."
Madge can't believe she almost didn't see it.
"Madge? Sister? Have you heard me?"
"Yes, I heard you Glimmer," she says and grabs hold of Glimmer's wrist. "And I must congratulate you. This was a very well thought out scheme, but you have severely underestimated me." She pulls Glimmer's hand from her arm and stands.
"Where are you going?" Glimmer demands and Madge looks down at her.
"To see your husband. It's time we had a chat."
Madge slams open Marvel's door, the handle cracking loudly against the stone wall.
He jumps in his seat and knocks over a half-full goblet of wine, a red puddle spreading out over his desk. It stains his scattered documents and Marvel leaps to his feet, a curse flying from his mouth. Madge doesn't wait for him to greet her.
"It's time for me to go home."
"We've been over this. Soon, but not yet," he says without looking up as he frantically mops at the wine. Madge steps to his desk and brings both her palms down on the wood. Marvel flinches.
"No," she says firmly, "now."
He looks up at her slowly and meets her eyes. He must not like what he sees, for soon he is scowling at her. "You are behaving most unbecomingly. A lady should not act so."
Madge leans forward and her voice is January frost. "Enough Marvel. I've seen through your little plot. I'll admit, it was quite inspired, but now it's done." His eyes are poisonous and his smile thin.
"I've no idea what you're talking about."
"You've always wanted my inheritance, but if I marry someone else you'll never get it. And what better way to stop me from marrying than to convince me to join a convent? First, you'd keep me isolated from friends and family; how fortuitous for you that Annie went to Brittany and my mother passed away, hmm? Second, you'd convince me that Gale was an awful beast who wanted nothing to do with me, just the latest in a long line of men who'd betrayed me. I would be alone, heartbroken and you'd keep me locked in my room so the grief and the loneliness and the boredom would drive me mad. Third, you'd let me think you planned to marry me, knowing just how much I'd abhor the idea. I'd be desperate, scared and so very, very alone. Nursing my broken heart, feeling abandoned and with no one left to turn to, Glimmer, poor abused, despairing Glimmer, would be my only friend. And when I was at my breaking point, she'd suggest my salvation. A convent where I'd be safe from the foibles of men. I'd go, take my vow of poverty and renounce my earthly possessions. And who better to take over their management than my dear step-brother, the closest thing I have to family? Yes Marvel, it was all very well thought out, except for one tiny detail. I don't break easily."
Marvel abandons his cleaning and sneers. "You could have made this simple," he says and walks slowly around his desk. He drags his fingers along the surface, his expression deadly. "But no, you had to be difficult. You had to throw yourself at every man in England, throwing my inheritance with you." He stops in front of her and seizes her chin, his fingers digging in deep enough to bruise her skin. She doesn't flinch. "I won't stand for it, you little slut," he whispers as he leans in so close their noses nearly touch. "I won't let you give my inheritance away and certainly not to that whoreson Hawthorne!" His voice rises on the end, his eyes flash and he is deranged, utterly so. Fear coils in her gut, but anger too. Madge focuses on the latter.
"It's not your inheritance!" she snaps. Marvel's whole face blooms crimson and he moves his painful grip to her shoulders.
"Yes it is! It is, it is! It should always have been mine, I deserve it! Not you, not Haymitch, not Cato or Gale! I have been cheated of my crown, I won't let you cheat me out of this too!" His expression is wild, his convictions without reason and she shakes her head.
"Marvel, it is my inheritance. It's not yours, it never was and it never will be. You won't break me, even if I stayed here for a century. Let me go. Sir Gale will come back for me, he knows more than anyone that I would never stay here. The Queen too will wonder why I'm still in your custody. You cannot win, don't you see? This is pointless, let me go before it ruins you."
Her words are calm, measured but Marvel exhales loudly, his nails cutting crescents into her skin. "Ruin me? You cannot ruin me, you selfish whore," he hisses.
"Can't I? Eventually, someone will come for me and when they do, I will ruin you Marvel. Just ask Sir Cray."
He flinches and his grip loosens enough that she can break free. She stares at him, his chest heaving and his eyes dark with fury and hopes this is the last time she will ever be alone with him. He is a mad man.
"I'm leaving tomorrow Marvel, I'm going home."
She turns and leaves the room, his scream of frustration chasing her out.
(Marvel slams a fist down on his desk in rage. His wine goblet rolls to the floor with a clatter and he exhales loudly, but it does not calm him. Madge is right. That stupid, insolent bitch is right. He cannot keep her here forever. Katniss is already suspicious and Gale will not give up, he never does.
So what? What can be done? He deserves that inheritance, not her, but he needs more time! He runs his hands through his hair and tries to think. He has to do something soon before Gale returns from his trip to Dorset. He cannot allow the two of them to rob him of what is rightfully his. He needs Madge alive and in his custody but isolated from everybody else. They are all on her side even though they shouldn't be and they cannot be given the chance to help her. Where would no one look for her? Where would no one find her?
They will search his castles; search every convent, every sanctuary, where won't they search?
Oh. The answer comes to him suddenly, perfectly and he feels a smile spread across his face. Yes, yes this is perfect. He pulls parchment and quill towards himself and starts to write.
He's won.
He's finally won)
Madge is woken by an insistent hand on her shoulder.
The world beyond her window is black as pitch, Katherine leaning over her is pale as fresh snow and Madge rolls over in confusion.
"What's going on?"
"You must get up and dressed my lady. His lordship has ordered it." Madge frowns and feels worry niggle in her gut. She wants to ask more but there's no point. Marvel won't have divulged his plots to a chambermaid. The air is chilly as she pushes back the covers and Katherine hovers nearby with anxious eyes. Madge climbs from bed and Katherine is on her in a moment, lacing her into her travelling gown and cape. Apprehension bubbles louder in her stomach. Why this gown? Where is Marvel sending her?
"This way please, my lady," Katherine says and leads Madge from the room. None of her things are packed, so it cannot be a long trip Marvel has planned, so where? And why so late? She does not want to panic, but it nibbles her skin. Katherine leads her outside where a litter is waiting with armed guards standing to attention at either side. She does not bother to resist; there is no point. Madge climbs aboard and one of the guards follows her in. He sits across from her and fear begins to sizzle in her nerves. Where is she going that Marvel wants a guard to ride with her?
"Where am I being sent?" she asks but the guard merely stares at her. She frowns. Why is this such a secret?
"You are going far, far away."
It is Marvel's voice, smug and cruel, and Madge jerks around to see him walking towards her. "What do you mean by that?" she demands and he smiles.
"You were right; I can't keep you here forever. So now I'm going to put you somewhere no one will ever find you. Goodbye sister."
Her eyes widen as panic screeches through her. She lunges for the door. "Marvel!" The guard hauls her back into her seat and she struggles against his iron grip.
"Marvel! You can't do this! Marvel!" she shouts but he only smiles as the carriage sets off. She watches him grow smaller and smaller, the torchlight throwing his face into shadow.
Oh God, where is he sending me?
AN I hope you enjoyed and thanks so much for sticking with me! Something major is coming for Gadge next chapter, I can't wait!