A/N: Can't believe I'm starting on this chapter right after I uploaded the first one. :o I must be stricken with the inspiration bug and I hope this keeps up.

Some of the Shakespeare dialogue gets a little complicated in this chapter. If any of you get confused as to what the hell any/everyone is saying and C.C.'s explanation at the end doesn't clear it up, you can send me a PM or leave a review about it and I'll get back to you with haste! ; )

Eggsie: Why thank you! : )

Although I hesitate to call these characters actual historical figures, as I'm sure Shakespeare, the dudes who adapted his work for the 2012 miniseries, and now me, write them differently from the way they acted in real life. Then again, you could say the whole thing is an alternate universe (loosely) based on a true story. xD

Speaking of which, let's continue!

-V-

The Tale of Richard II

-V-

It was an oddly warm winter day, and England was about to enter spring. Rivers still flowed and the trees still kept their leaves.

King Richard the Second, now a man, sat with his favorites and close servants on a small stone bridge. They threw stones in the stream and watched the ripples spread on impact.

Into this scene entered Aumerle, the son of the Duke of York. He was at that age when one was a boy and a man at the same time; his hair was brown and short, his face beardless.

All eyes were on him as he climbed up on the bridge and sat a few steps down from the king, for he had just completed an important mission: to escort his cousin Harry Bolingbroke, the Duke of Hereford, to the shore. There a boat waited to take the Duke to France, for he had been exiled by Richard.

"Cousin Aumerle," the king asked, "how far brought you high Hereford on his way?"

"I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, but to the next highway, and there I left him," Aumerle answered.

"And say, what store of parting tears were shed?"

"Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind, when then blew bitterly against our faces, awak'd the sleeping rheum, and so by chance did grace our hollow parting with a tear."

Richard contemplated, and then asked: "What said our cousin when you parted with him?"

Aumerle hesitated.

-V-

The previous day on the shore had been, by contrast, wet with a cold wind. All—the sea, the sand, even the supposedly green grass on the nearby hills—seemed grey except for what Aumerle and Bolingbroke wore—the former in all blue, the latter, while in plain traveling clothes, wearing a large red scarf. A boat waited in the waves for its banished passenger.

Bolingbroke strode towards the edge of the water before stopping and turning to take his last view of England for what he believed to be many years.

"Fair England's ground, farewell," he began emotionally, and then knelt to grasp the wet sand. "Sweet soil, adieu!" Then he looked up at the hills with sad eyes. "My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!"

He rose to his feet and turned back to the sea with both anger and determination.

"Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, though banish'd, yet a true-born Englishman!"

-V-

"'Farewell,'" Aumerle decided to say.

Richard looked at him suspiciously.

"Marry," York's son added, "would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd hours and added years to his short banishment, he should have had a volume of farewells; but since it would not, he had none of me."

"He is our cousin," the king chided as he twirled a flower in his hands, "cousin."

There was a second's silence as Richard thought and remembered before he continued. "We did observe his courtship to the common people, how he did seem to dive into their hearts with humble and familiar courtesy. What reverence he did throw away on slaves, wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles and patient underbearing of his fortune, as 'twere to banish their affects with him."

He added: "Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; a brace of draymen bid God speed him well, and had the tribute of his supple knee, with 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends'; as were our England in reversion, his."

"Well, he is gone," said Green, one of the king's favorites, "and with him go these thoughts."

Richard took his advice and refocused.

"Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland," Green continued, "expedient manage must be made, my liege, ere further leisure yield them further means for their advantage and Your Highness' loss."

"We will Ourself in person to this war," Richard said. "And, for our coffers, with too great a court and liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm; the revenue whereof shall furnish us for our affairs in hand."

He continued: "If that come short, our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, they shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, and send them after to supply our wants; for We will make for Ireland presently."

Suddenly another servant by the name of Bushy ran up to the bridge and stopped, out of breath and putting his hands on his knees.

"Bushy, what news?" The king asked.

"Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord," he replied, "suddenly taken, and hath sent poste-haste to entreat your Majesty to visit him."

"Where lies he?"

"At Lancaster."

"Tell his messenger that we shall come."

"Yes, My Lord." Bushy immediately turned around and sped back to whence he came.

"Now put it, God, in his physician's mind to help Our uncle to his grave immediately," Richard said. "The lining of his coffers shall make coats to deck our soldiers for these Irish wars."

Bushy came back quickly. At the king's questioning look, he said: "The messenger from Lancaster has disappeared, with no sign of where they went."

Richard chuckled. "Come, gentlemen, let's go visit old John of Gaunt: pray God we may make haste, and come too late."

-V-

The messenger had hidden herself and her horse, Glove, in the woods near that same stream and just two dozen feet from Richard and his company. The horse had been trained to be quiet and sneaky, and her rider was also quiet and sneaky, so the two of them made a great team when it came to espionage and the ensuing retreat.

It likely helped that her hair was a shade of green, too. Very unusual, but it did give her a small advantage when she slinked around forests to spy on those who caught her attention.

Speaking of which, this was the first time C.C. had seen Richard in years. Her former pupil had grown into an adult but still acted much like a child. She smiled wryly.

The news of Harry Bolingbroke's banishment was known all through England, but Aumerle's possible desire to protect his cousin through lying, or, on the other hand, possible resentment of that same cousin was not. Hmm, and it appears that Richard has caught on to this, too. I shall keep an eye on the boy.

She had also heard of Bolingbroke's benevolent acts towards the common man, and his ability (unusual among the nobility) to relate to them. She also knew about much of what he did in general; after all, she had often talked to his father, John of Gaunt.

Could the king himself be slightly paranoid about Bolingbroke's greater store of popularity with the people? And there was, of course, the war in Ireland to attend to. England was broke, likely because of Richard's extravagant and expensive habits.

She snorted. As usual, C.C. had been a terrible tutor. She had been too easy on him about those habits when he was younger. Teaching didn't seem to be an occupation suitable for her—perhaps she should abandon it?

But then… how would those she made contracts with know how to use the ability she gives them? After all, the two contracts before had failed, likely because of that very same lack of skill in teaching.

No matter.Something else was nagging her and she wasn't sure exactly what, but she was sure it had to do with the place she had just left.

Right now, I must return to Lancaster. But why?

Then suddenly, things that had gathered and cluttered the closet of her mind over many years fell into place. Observations. Plans. Wishes.

Even though I will arrive after Gaunt has died,she realized,some of his noble friends will still remain in mourning.

I shall tell them about Richard's plans to tax everyone,especiallytheir kind, to excess, and then...

An uprising.Her amber eyes widened. She had seen a few uprisings in her long life, but had never taken part in one.

But if there was an uprising, and the situation became chaotic... perhaps she wouldn't have to wait so many years to lay eyes on the next Lancaster. She plotted, and then her smile faded as her satisfaction grew.

All it would take to put things in motion would be some well-timed actions and some well-placed words. Then, once Bolingbroke comes back to England on stories of his father's death, the raiding of his estate's wealth, and the threat to the rest of the nobility, perhaps…

Calculation and anticipation shared her eyes.

I shall finally grant power to a true king.