Tower of London
November 1470
Though not born to play the role of a Queen, Bonnie excels at it with an ease that surprises even herself. Due to the large retinue escorting the royal family and the bitter cold weather that has settled over England, the journey south to London is slow and absolutely grueling.
A constant, austere expression remains on her face as Bonnie is haunted by the image of her father; terror shining in his eyes before death comes. As much as she wants to surrender to the grief consuming her, Bonnie knows there is no time to weep and mourn. So, she swallows unshed tears and ignores the ache on her body. Not for a moment does Bonnie allow herself to be seen as anything other than the perfect Queen. Her chin remains raised and her spine straight.
The façade of strength finally dissolves with an anguished wail when Bonnie is reunited with her grandmother. Now in safety and shielded by the thick walls of Lanthorn Tower, Bonnie is no longer a Queen who must embody strength to her subjects. No, she is merely a daughter who lost her father and a wife who worries for the faith of her husband.
"I should have known, I should have known Warwick was this wretched and greedy for power!" Bonnie sobs; words running into each other in a nonsensical sound. "No charge, no trial. He had no right!"
Sheila, already familiar with the sharp pain of a loss and bereft of tears to shed, can only sigh.
"He had no right, but he had the opportunity and that is what matters," Sheila says without much emotion.
Her words may sound callous and perhaps unfeeling, but such is their reality. Bloodshed has always been a constant in their lives, from the beginning of times. England's soil is soaked with the blood of peasants, Lords, her ancestors and now her sons.
"Warwick has always despised our family and blames us for his slipping influence on the King. That is why he seeks to malign our name."
"He has done more than malign our name. He has murdered them, your two sons. What shall we do?"
Untangling herself from Bonnie's embrace, Sheila looks down at her granddaughter and shudders when she notices the hint of a storm brewing behind those big, green eyes.
"Bonnie?"
"He spreads lies about us, accuses us of levying taxes to fill our pockets!" Bonnie cries out; feeling her blood become warmer and warmer. It is the first time she is allowed to express her rage and it is far stronger than expected. "He had them executed and plots to put Finn on the throne. What if he kills Nik as well?"
"Do not even say these words!" Sheila commands in a harsh whisper. The words of a witch carry more power than one would believe.
"I cannot help but think it," Bonnie says; hands fiddling with her pearl necklace – a sweet present from Nik. "Warwick was bold enough to raise an army against the King, to take him captive. Had we arrived later, his men would have taken over the city!"
With the grace of God, London held loyal to the King. The alderman and the mayor welcomed her and her party and promised they would not turn their coats to Warwick.
"What do you suggest we do, child? Do you forget that you are Queen and not a knight? Wars are meant to be fought by men, Bonnie," Sheila reminds her; tone firm and yet gentle. Bonnie's blind loyalty is a beautiful trait of hers, something Sheila would never wish to see diminished. However, there is no place for irrational actions in her position as Queen.
Retaliation of any sort by Bonnie could be proven disastrous. No, they should allow men to fight their wars themselves.
"We are not knights, but we are witches. We must do something. They killed your sons, Grandmother," Bonnie pleads; the rage within her mixing with nausea as realization dawn on her. Her father is dead, as is her uncle. Her Grandmother has lost both sons, and for all they know, their bodies are buried in a shallow grave. Perhaps this is the same faith Warwick wishes for her and her daughters. "I have no doubt they would have taken me and the girls as well to manipulate Nik's actions. If the men cannot fight him, we can at least weaken him."
"What you speak of is quite reckless. If they even suspect us of cursing a nobleman…" Sheila trails off, not wishing to think of the horrors of the torture methods used to punish a witch.
Though their family has reached a higher echelon of a court filled with vampires, witches remain very much reviled and feared. Even the smallest suspicion of Bonnie using her powers against a vampire peer would place them in harm's way.
"They will not. You told me yourself there are different curses in your grimoire. No one would know."
Bonnie's tone is confident and obstinate. A far cry from the hesitant, sweet girl that would run around barefooted through the gardens of Knebworth, Sheila notices with a twinge of sadness.
"I did not want you to be involved with such dark magic," Sheila says, part of her wishing she could have prevented all of this suffering. "You have a light, my child. Do not sully it to achieve revenge."
"What good is this light when they wish to see to our destruction? I tried to do as Nik said, tried to win his favor and be his friend. That failed and there is no reason for us to be merciful. Not when they have murdered Father and Uncle!"
"Oh, my child. God knows I didn't want this for you," Sheila murmurs; the anguish she has been harboring coming to the surface at last. What kind of a Grandmother would she be if she can't even protect Bonnie?
"I should have known, I should have known this man to be a monster," Bonnie mutters to herself as she gets up and begins to pace around. "And Finn… his mother will suffer the loss of a son, she will know this pain. She will hurt the same way you hurt right now."
"It will not bring them back, Bonnie," Sheila reminds her; her expression just as pained as Bonnie's. "Please, do not allow the need for revenge to consume you."
Sheila has seen it. The awful way hatred and resentment can destroy a person. Imagining her daughter falling victim to that is just heartbreaking.
"It will only consume me if I fail to act," Bonnie says, and Sheila understands it is not a bluff or an exaggeration on her part.
The realization causes her to sigh in resignation. Her little Bonnie is little and naïve no more; her role as consort having molded her into a different person.
"There is a spell. It will not strike them down, but it will weaken them. We shall do it later; tonight."
Middleham Castle, Yorkshire
November 1470
Despite his luxurious surroundings, with colorful tapestries hanging on the walls, hand carved oak furniture and an exorbitant amount of wine available to him, Klaus has no doubt Middleham is his prison. After all, the castle is a Neville stronghold and Warwick knows the power he has by keeping him captive.
"You are so very bold to show your face, cousin. Perhaps you do not see treason as a shameful deed, I take it," Klaus comments; sarcasm dripping from his voice and lips curled in amusement and disgust.
A proud man; Warwick attempts to disguise his discomfort under Niklaus' gaze. The King may be much younger than himself, but he has mastered the art of intimidation. Besides, it would not do to display any weakness to Niklaus, not when Warwick is the one who should be in the position of power.
"Niklaus, you must understand-" Alaric begins to say; attempting to sound calmer than he really is.
Klaus, however, has no patience for his cousin's empty and pathetic explanations.
"I am Your Grace to you, the rightful King of England. And I must understand nothing!" He interrupts with a vociferous reminder as he slams both hands on the table. "You and Finn have supported a rebellion against me, have spread lies to malign my character and purport me as a bastard. Tell me, why have you fought beside me to put me on that throne if it was your plan to betray me?"
"Your Grace, you are mistaken. I had no wish to betray you," Warwick says in an honest tone; prompting Klaus to let out a sardonic chuckle.
"You have the most particular manner of displaying your loyalty, I must say," Klaus comments as he folds his hands over his lap, enjoying how uncomfortable Warwick seems to be under his gaze. It is rather satisfying; having the great Earl of Warwick squirming as if he was a green boy. "Is marrying your daughter to my brother without my consent a display of your loyalty? Perhaps supporting rebel armies and inciting them with baseless lies?"
Being part of a rebellion against him is treasonous enough, but to spread such lies verges on being unforgivable. Warwick of all people should better understand the gravity of these claims. His hybrid nature has always posed a question concerning the legitimacy of his heritage and the last Niklaus wishes is to validate these ridiculous rumors.
"I was merely attempting to save you from yourself and your own naiveté!" Warwick hisses out after a moment of silence; red in the face and eyes wide in surprise at his own outburst.
"Saving myself from what? I have not been a naïve boy ever since I got in my horse and defeated Margaret's armies."
"The Bennetts," Warwick replies with pursed lips; failing to conceal the distaste that seeps into his words.
"My marriage to the Queen has been nothing but blessed by God, and yet you remain spiteful with my decision to have my marriage to Aurora annulled."
Klaus should have realized the true motive for Alaric's wrath. His cousin is far too enamored with gold and power to forget the losses that came when their alliance with France was dissolved. Even though it is obvious that God has smiled upon his union with Bonnie by gracing them with three healthy children, it would seem that Warwick would still have him married to Aurora.
"It is not out of spite that I have done this!" Alaric begins to explain, ignoring the obvious skeptical snort from Niklaus.
His words may be carefully chosen, but they are not entirely false. It was not Niklaus' senseless decision to marry his own subject and a witch that has aroused his rebellious dormant nature. No, it is Niklaus' eagerness to elevate the Bennetts, a family that should be nowhere near the throne, above all others. Above more deserving families. Some of them have fought, bled and died for their King, only to see the Queen's cousins – daughters of a second son with no important title – make marriages way above their stations. Their sacrifice was made to have a Mikaelson ruling England, not a family of witches.
"You have alienated all of your supporters in that family's favor. The council believes-"
"You believe me to be dimwitted as Richard? I know the Lords will believe and think whatever you tell them and now you tell them to turn against me!"
"I do not deny that we all agree that the Bennetts should be dismissed from their positions. It is a simple request," Warwick says with a shrug; hopeful that they can finally put this issue to rest.
"A request you know I will never comply!" Klaus cries out, feeling the last shred of his temper leave him.
He's had to endure the humiliation of being captured, the agony of not knowing how his wife and daughters fared, and now Warwick speaks to him as if he was a dimwitted green boy.
"They are upstarters abusing your generosity! They are-" Warwick begins to rant, paying little attention to the way the King's face turns red.
"Loyal to me!" He growls out; a hint of his werewolf blood coming to the surface as his eyes take on a golden hue.
Though courageous in battle, Warwick still has his wits on him. With both hands raised in a sign of silent capitulation, he backs away.
"Which is far more then I can say about you and Finn, dear cousin. Do not fool yourself into believing you can make demands of me just because you hold me captive here."
"You may not believe so, but my loyalty remains with you, Niklaus. I merely wish to advise you."
"Advise me?" Klaus questions; another mirthless chuckle forming in the back of his throat. The audacity of him would be more outraging if not amusing. "You mean to tell me that your support of the rebels and keeping me captive here are a scheme to advise me on matters of the realm?"
"Has she blinded you to the point of ignorance?" Warwick questions; not even making an effort to conceal his disappointment. Niklaus is the son Joanna could not bear him, the reason to fill him with pride. His child is gone; their connection severed due to the Queen's manipulations.
"Well, since you insist on keeping me here with the intent of offering advice, send for wine and venison," Klaus instructs as he places both feet on the expensive oak table; lips curled in a mocking smirk. "I shall run my country the way I see fit."
Despite being Warwick's captive, he remains a King, does he not? He will behave as such, then.
The Tower of London
November 1470
They wait until the moon is high in the sky; a shade of milky white contrasting with the dark, black canvas. The cold autumn wind is strong, howling as it blows through Bonnie's hair and chills her to the bone. She wraps the shawl around her body, presses her lips together in a hard line to keep her teeth from chattering. Clad in plain, grey dresses that could belong to a servant and in the darkness of the night, they manage to slip unnoticed past the guards.
"Here," Sheila says, pointing to a secluded spot on the green, surrounded by shrubs and tall trees. "This shall be enough for us to draw power from nature. Are you sure you wish to do this? Warwick and Clarence will fall to the sword eventually."
"I am sure. I may not be able to draw their blood, but I want to know I had a hand in their downfall. I want to know we have avenged Father and Uncle," Bonnie assures, wiping away resentful tears with the back of her hand.
Even in the dim light provided by the moon, Sheila can make out the determination and resentment in her granddaughter's face. In a way, she is hardly surprised. Bonnie may be of the sweetest disposition, but her loyalty to her family is not be questioned. Not now or ever.
000
Middleham Castle, Yorkshire
November 1470
Despite the pleased grins of Father, her Lady Mother, and Victoria, Elena, Duchess of Clarence strains to keep a neutral expression on her face.
Oh, how naïve she had been when she believed her wedding to Finn was merely for her own happiness. She foolishly thought it was a most generous present from Father when in reality he was only thinking of himself. Thinking of expanding his own power. She was nothing but a bargaining chip in his arsenal; not a daughter but an object of his.
Judging by the glint in his eyes and the manner in which his lips curl in satisfaction, Elena just knows his plans involving her are not quite over.
"Are you certain?" Alaric asks Joanna, slanting his gaze to analyze Elena with narrowed eyes. They could not act if there is any doubt.
"Yes, the physician has confirmed it. She is with child," Joanna answers with a firm nod. Though her facial expression is placid and reveals no sign of anxiety, her thin, long fingers twitch ever so slightly. She would support her husband in his every endeavor, but for some reason, it is difficult to ignore the way her chest tightens when thinking of the foreseeable future.
Warwick, however, does not seem to have such qualms. His usual austere and reserved demeanor gives way to obvious excitement as he clasps both hands together.
"We must act quickly now. Before Niklaus' supporters regain their strength," he states to no one in particular; dragging his booted feet against the rug as he paces back and forth. "Parliament must be summoned so Finn is declared King and Elena his Queen!"
The healthy flush on Elena's cheeks disappears in seconds as she brings a hand to her lips, willing herself not to sick all over the floor. She had dreamed of being a Queen in the past when she was nothing but a silly little girl. To herself and Victoria, it was the most delightful make-believe.
They would have pretty silk and lace dresses commissioned according to the modern and somewhat scandalous French fashion, host sumptuous feasts at Westminster Palace and spend the night dancing the Pavane and drinking Burgundian wine. To a ten-year-old girl with a crown of flowers upon her head, that idea sounded lovely. However, Elena is not the little girl with childish aspirations anymore. She has seen what being a Queen entails, and she has no wish to be one.
"Queen? But the King-" Elena protests in a faint tone, only to be interrupted by her father's cynical snickering.
"Oh, do not be such a fool, Elena. Niklaus is quite aware of our intentions. There is no use in pretending anymore," Warwick states, careful not to show a hint of the hesitancy that befalls him. He has already overthrown one King and crowned another and as their situation dictates, he shall do it once more.
"I cannot-" Elena whispers in a faint, beseeching tone. She cannot be Queen, cannot do this.
"You can and you will, Elena!" Joanna snaps out in a moment of impatience, finally showing who she could be underneath her docile and quiet exterior. "We cannot afford to turn back. Much has been risked and we must carry on."
"But Parliament will never allow it!" Victoria pipes in as she rushes to Elena's side; her small voice hesitant and yet anxious to protect her older sister.
Joanna shakes her head and releases a scornful chuckle, one that would cause her own mother to shake her head in disapproval. Oh, her manners may not be befitting of the Countess of Warwick, but she hardly has a care.
"The Bennetts are loathed! They have pushed away your father and all of Niklaus' trusted advisors. They are a witch family who openly supported the werewolves!" Joanna hisses; the corners of her lips curling downward in disgust. "England is at great peril if they continue to exert such influence. If Parliament is concerned with the future of this country, they will place Finn on the throne. And you, my daughter, shall be crowned Queen of England."
Even without his crown, his jewelry or the reverence of a court, there is no denying Niklaus continues to carry himself as the undoubted King of England. He may be held captive at Middleham, watched closely by guards and servants who observe his every move instead of ruling the country at Westminster Palace, but he feels just as powerful.
Warwick's attempt to consolidate power for himself based on Finn's ludicrous claim and mask Niklaus' captivity as an extended visit has failed time and time again. Despite his firm grasp on the Privy Council, it is clear that he has not been able to fool the whole of England. Niklaus' removal from power has proven to be chaotic, causing skirmishes throughout the realm. Skirmishes that could only be resolved with the presence of the King, a trouble Warwick had failed to predict.
It would seem that the Earl of Warwick has underestimated the true power of the King of England and Niklaus couldn't possibly be more pleased. As a matter of fact, he cannot even conceal the smugness within himself when he sees Warwick and Finn entering the room.
The first thing Niklaus notes is their unusual demeanor. Both Warwick and his brother love to put on airs, with puffed out chests and straight spines. In this occasion, however, there is none of that. They look a tad sheepish, like children who were scolded by their governess. It doesn't take long for Klaus to guess the reason for their behavior.
Parliament convened at York and it was obvious they did not get their way.
"Have you returned already?" Klaus asks as he sets his book down and picks up the metal jar to pour himself some wine. Just a little, for he needs to keep his wits about, but this moment requires a goblet of spiced wine. "Judging from the lack of enthusiasm and Finn's pathetic demeanor, I figure you do not carry joyful news. Parliament did not submit to you, just as I have predicted."
Save for the howling of the wind and rustling of the dried leaves outside, the solar is silent. It is as if each man would rather try to decipher their opponent than make the first move. Aware of his upper hand and anxious to solve the stalemate, Klaus is the one to break the silence.
"Tell me, brother. How does it feel to know that not even your treason and lies were enough to secure you the throne?" Klaus wonders out loud as he sips on the wine; chuckling in amusement when he notices the grip on Finn's sword becoming tighter.
"We did not intend to commit treason or betray your confidence, Your Grace," Warwick assures, no doubt in an attempt to flatter the King and diffuse the growing tension between brothers. He is unsuccessful in either task.
"This particular matter shall be resolved at a later time, cousin," Klaus assures with a tone cold enough to freeze the Thames over, barely glancing at Warwick.
While the anger of his betrayal still makes the blood in his veins simmer, Klaus can only think of traveling south and returning to London. The issue of Warwick and Finn's future could be settled in a few weeks' time; after the Great Council is convened. Most importantly, after he's laid eyes on Bonnie and the girls and is assured they have not been harmed in any way.
"It is hardly treason if I am attempting to save England from you and your witch!" Finn shouts, ignoring Warwick's narrowed eyes and the obvious expression that orders him to control himself.
"Then kill me, brother, and take the throne for yourself," Niklaus hisses, opening both arms in a clear dare.
Just as predicted, Finn cannot help himself. Releasing a low growl, the younger Mikaelson crosses the length of the room in a few strides until only inches separate him from Klaus. The hand gripping the handle of his sword trembles ever so slightly; a small measure of self-control. A part of Finn would love nothing more than drive that sword through Niklaus' belly, bleed him out and be done with it. No longer would England have to put up with the travesty that a witch family controlling the realm through the King.
"Finn!" Warwick calls out in admonition from his spot next to the threshold. "Enough."
Unlike Finn, Warwick has not allowed any disgruntlement to tamper with his reason. They will not be able to succeed without Parliament's support and killing an anointed King will not endear Finn in the eyes of the English people. Nor even Henry Bolingbrook was blatant when killing Richard. It is best to accept that they gambled and lost. No need to muck things up even more.
"Now, cousin," Klaus begins to say as he turns to face Warwick, dismissing Finn and whatever pathetic altercation he may wish to have without a single word. "Are you to prepare a horse for my journey willingly or shall I write to Elijah and ask for a proper escort?"
Niklaus' voice is amiable as if he is discussing the autumn weather or the plants growing outside in the gardens. The threat carried in his words, however, is evident. So, Warwick does what any man with wits would do in this situation.
"As you wish, Your Grace," he acquiesces, bowing his head in respect as Niklaus walks by him.
When the servants rush to inform Warwick the King has taken a horse from the stables and left Middleham along with two other men, there is little he can do.
Tower of London
November 1470
Surprisingly, it does not take long for Bonnie to become accustomed to being sequestered at the Tower. Her rooms in Lanthorn Tower may have need of a few renovations and not boast as much luxury as the Queen's quarters at the Palace, but it is a safe place and she can rest easy knowing her family will not be in harm's way.
Well, not her entire family, Bonnie thinks with bitterness as she thinks of her husband and the few letters that have reached her. Nik was sweet enough to find a way to have little scribbled down pieces of parchment delivered to her in an attempt to soothe her distraught mind and assure her of his wellbeing. While it is a great relief to know he's not being kept captive in a dreary dungeon and has received treatment befitting his station, Bonnie is not naïve. His crown is what protects him from Warwick's machinations and crown can be lost with some persuasion. Nik would not be safe until he remained in Warwick's grasp.
Releasing a weary sigh, Bonnie rolls the parchment and places it back on the desk. Reading his words over and over again is another reminder of his absence and far more painful than she expected. Her heavy heart only lightens up when the sound of a soft breath catches her attention. Nestled against a pile of pillows and layers of sheets, two of Bonnie's loves sleep as if their world remains undisturbed. Well, one of Bonnie's loves.
Much to her relief, Madeleine and Eleanor have hardly been affected by their weeks' stay at the Tower. Thus far, the only difference in behavior is their insistence on spending the night in her chambers instead of the nursery. A difference she hardly minds. To the consternation of the courtiers around her, Bonnie has already made it clear she is to be a constant presence in her children's upbringing.
"Little love, why are you awake?" Bonnie asks Eleanor as she kneels beside her. The smile comes to her face as soon as she looks at her daughter's wide hazel eyes and her wild brown curls. "You want Mama to tell you another story?"
"Papa," Eleanor murmurs; her tone a mixture of longing and childish whine. Bonnie's smile dissolves immediately; replaced by a frown. Perhaps it was naïve of her to believe the children would not notice their father's absence. Eleanor may be young, but the two-year-old has always been quite sensitive and the closest to Nik.
"Shh, my darling," Bonnie soothes, placing a kiss on her forehead. Ever the obedient and calm child, Eleanor's eyes flutter close. "Your Papa is-"
"Very sorry for keeping you waiting for so long."
The voice is so clear and familiar that Bonnie is paralyzed, wondering whether her imagination is playing games with her mind. If it is, Bonnie doesn't want to know. So she stands still, not wishing to turn around and realize she was imagining his presence.
"I have missed you, love. More than you can imagine," he whispers, rubbing his nose against the side of her neck. The contact is enough to make Bonnie melt against him; tears running down her face.
"You are here," Bonnie mumbles as she wraps her arms around him. His usually clean minty scent is muskier than usual and his hair is longer, but it's Nik. He's there, he's safe. "I thought..."
Bonnie can hardly bring herself to voice her fears. Her fear of never seeing or holding him ever again, her fear of Warwick dealing him the same faith of her father and uncle.
"Shhh," Niklaus soothes as he kisses the trail of tears on her cheek, taking his time to allow himself to breathe her in once more. "I remember a fierce little witch forbidding me from dying. I could not possibly ignore her command. Now, we shall go home, love."
Home. There is nothing Bonnie wants more. Well, other than seeing Finn's and Warwick's heads placed on spikes outside the gates.
A/N: Damn, I did not realize it took me so long to update. The World Cup completely stole my focus, but here I am. Sorry for the wait, you guys. I hope you're not too mad at me. I promise I'll try to update faster. Let me know your thoughts! I know there was not a lot of Klonnie, but I wanted to take some time to show more of Warwick and his plans even though yall hate him.