Chapter Thirteen

"Shall I send ahead for some food to be made ready, Catherine?" Henry's voice was soft, and had a tone to it that made the Queen feel sure that he was treading carefully. Stifling tired irritation, she resisted the urge to snap back.

"No, thank you Henry."

"But you haven't eaten all day."

"I'm fine." Her eyes flicked to his for the briefest moment, and she gave him a tight smile. Henry was unconvinced, but he understood, and fell silent.

Sighing deeply, Catherine sat a little straighter in the carriage, her expression unreadable. Her fingers worked tensely, hidden in the folds of her skirts in her lap, picking her cuticles - a tiny form of release for her pain and tension that nobody could see, when she didn't want her anguish revealed.

Hours of searching in the forest, and no sign of the princes. Anxiety coiled in her empty stomach and speared the tired muscles around her shoulders. Catherine's mind switched relentlessly between hopelessness, and desperate denial of that hopelessness. They must be lost forever! They could not possibly be lost forever, because the pain would be too great! She must not give up hope! What hope? What hope could there be of their survival? What more could possibly be done to find them? But giving up would be unbearable. There MUST be hope.

Most of the guards had remained in the forest to deepen the search. The King had insisted on escorting his wife back to the castle, as she was becoming fatigued with the effort after several hours, and without having had food for some time. It had bothered Henry greatly, because he knew how Catherine loved her food. To see her go without willingly, to have no appetite… He had been anxious and distracted about it during the search, and Catherine had finally admitted to feeling exhausted, and agreed to return to the castle. Even now though, she could not think of food. Her very soul felt empty, drained and hollow. Exhaustion seeped into her bones, and restrained emotion kept her stomach tight and her throat constricted. She did not feel like eating. She only wanted her boys back.

As they neared the outskirts of the castle grounds, Catherine noticed with a feeling of dread that the sun was now quite low in the sky. She couldn't bear to think of her little boys alone in the dark, away from their home, their family, all their familiar things. She refused to believe that they were dead! She hoped that whoever had taken them was treating them kindly at least. Furiously blinking back tears, frustrated with her emotions rising unbidden to the surface yet again, Catherine couldn't help herself. Her mind ran over all the happy times she had seen Charles and Henry share together. How she hoped they would soon be returned and experience them again! She saw them so clearly in her mind's eye: giggly hide-and-seek in the castle on rainy afternoons; little shining eyes, eager for a story at bedtime when she arrived to tuck them into bed; looking so sweet and serious as they learned the steps of traditional dances with the instructor who had taught all of her children to dance through the years.

Angrily flicking a wayward tear off her cheek with her fingernail, Catherine sat forward determinedly, staring unseeing out of the window. She was unwilling to shut down in despair, and she blocked out everything around her, allowing her memories to forge on.

Happy times around the castle grounds. Snowball fights with Francis and Claude. Charles falling in the lake when little Henry had barreled into him at full speed after running down the grassy slope and being unable to stop. Family picnics in the grassy meadows on warm afternoons, and the way her little boys had entertained them with pretend jousting contests on just the perfect sticks collected by the edge of the woods for that very purpose. Hiding behind tree trunks and leaping out at each other in the woods, these same woods that they were passing through right now. Pretending to be explorers in the treehouse that Henry and Francis had built for them in the tall oak tree further out in the woods.

Catherine jerked out of her thoughts with a sharp gasp, her eyes wide, hands trembling. Henry, who had been watching her with emotion tugging at his own heart, startled at her sudden movement, and his hand shot out to touch her knee.

"Catherine! What…?!"

She turned to face him, eyes filled with hope and tears as she clutched his hand on her knee.

"Henry! The treehouse! Did anyone think to - " The King lunged towards the window in his urgency.

"STOP THE CARRIAGE!"

Within an instant, Catherine was out of the carriage with Henry, and running – running – through the trees towards the part of the woods where the treehouse was. Guards ran behind them, and she clutched at her skirts, lifting them a little to give her more room to run freely. Her heart pounded and her breath came ragged and fast, but she ran on, forgetting her fatigue and her empty stomach. Desperate hope and love energized her and urged her on. Surely this area had already been searched? Guards had already reported back to them that the entire grounds had been searched with no sign of the princes. But they would not have thought of the treehouse. Maybe… just maybe, there was a chance.

As they came within sight of the large oak tree in the distance standing strong and proud amongst the smaller trees around it, Catherine couldn't help but call out for her boys as she ran, raspy and breathy though her voice was. She knew she was still too far away, but her mother's instinct was crying out to her that her children were near, that they were well and she would have them in her arms just as soon as she could get to them. Hearing her efforts, Henry's stronger voice picked up her call, and she was grateful.

"CHARLES! HENRY!"

Their feet shushed over old leaves and cracked over twigs and bark as they ran, more laboriously now, uphill towards the tree. Catherine could hear the clanking of the guards' armour as they drew in close behind.

They were so much nearer now. Surely their voices had been heard? Please let them be there! Please-please, please-please - Catherine's silent pleas kept time in her mind with her feet as they thudded relentlessly through the dirt and leaves. She began to fear. Fear that her children were not there. Fear of the pain that would come with the crash after the hope and the effort if they were not. Suddenly breathless and exhausted, she stopped, gasping, watching her husband close the gap between her and the tree with the ladder nailed into the trunk, and the wooden boards of the treehouse just about visible through the leaves above. Above the harsh sound of her own pulse and heavy breathing, she heard his deep voice ring out again, "HENRY! CHARLES!"

And then time stood still. A small head of blonde hair appeared over the wooden boards, and she heard his voice – "Father?" Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle the little shriek of joy that escaped her at the sight, and she began to run again. Dropping softly onto the soil as they jumped from the bottom of the ladder, two little boys ran to her, and she sank to her knees in the leaves and dirt, arms wide to embrace them, laughing and crying all at once.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Sitting between their beds in the quietness, Catherine savoured the moment, drinking in the sight of her little boys who were sleeping peacefully now after their long day. The sound of their breathing, the soft contours of their faces in the candlelight, the way their eyelashes curved gently against their cheeks. Relief and gratitude washed over her, the same way it had that afternoon when she saw them running towards her, only this time with less intensity. She had been so terrified for them, her fear so overwhelming, and yet now, despite the shudder than ran through her when she thought of it, she could almost laugh about it. Almost. She shook her head fondly and smiled down at Charles's sleeping face, as she remembered his apologetic explanation earlier that day.

"Mother, please don't cry! We didn't mean to worry you! We… we were playing floods, and I – I remembered that I was taught once about floods in far-off lands, and how the people would go to higher ground to be safe." He had looked at his feet and fiddled with the edge of his cloak for a moment, before continuing, "Henry and I remembered the treehouse – the highest place we could go outside of the castle, Mother, and we went!"

Little Henry had nodded proudly, adding, "We beat the floods, Mama!" Catherine stroked back the blonde hair softly from his forehead as he slept, at the memory.

"And then we played Search and Capture! We were already high up in a hiding place, and - "

"It was SO exciting!" her younger son had interrupted.

"Yes, and after a while we saw some guards further off in the woods and we pretended they were really searching for us to capture us and put us in the TOWER!" Charles's shining eyes and gap-toothed smile had been so endearing to Catherine, despite her anguish only moments before. "We lay on the floor in our treehouse and stayed quiet."

"Reeeeally qui-et…" added little Henry.

"Only we were so quiet that we must have got sleepy, because we fell asleep. We only woke up a little bit before we heard Father calling us, and we had been talking about going back to see if it was time to eat yet." Charles had looked up at his mother's radiant smile and tear-stained cheeks. "I'm sorry Mother. I didn't realise we would worry you so."

Catherine had hugged them close and kissed their heads, and reassured them that all was well that ended well, and they had all climbed into the carriage and gone back to the castle for supper. She had eaten at last, but she really couldn't manage as much as she usually would. Her stomach had had an exhausting day with all the anxiety. She hadn't left their sides since, and had insisted on accompanying them along with their nannies as they readied themselves for bed. She had read to them, and sang to them softly as they drifted off to sleep, and now she lingered still, unable to make herself get up and leave them. She felt unwilling to remove herself from the distraction of her precious boys, and face the vacuum of emotional exhaustion that awaited her in her empty chambers. Henry had been asking since supper to accompany her with their sons, but Catherine had wanted her space, and asked him to leave her alone with them this evening. He had been gracious enough and not questioned her further, and she was grateful.

The door opened quietly, and one of the nannies entered, dropping a curtsey before the Queen as she realised she was still in the room with her children. Catherine smiled, glad to see that someone would be near her boys as they slept. She stood and leaned over to kiss each of her sons, before bidding the nanny goodnight, and leaving the room.

The hallways seemed more grey and cold than they used to, and exhaustion seeped into her bones. The very skin of her face felt too heavy, and her corset seemed too restrictive. As she walked to her chambers, doing her best to present a graceful and regal appearance despite her exhaustion, Catherine began to feel overwhelmed with uneasiness. She felt fragile and vulnerable. She knew it was just fatigue, with all the worry and stress of the day, now that it was all over. All the same, she wished so much that she hadn't rejected Henry's offer of company this evening. Just the thought of opening her heart to him made the unsettling vulnerable feeling worse, but she could certainly use a companion to soothe her lingering anxiety, which she knew would be worse if she was alone. She would just have to hope that her ladies would ready her for bed as quickly as possible, and that she would fall asleep immediately so that there would be no time for raw feelings and fears in the dark.

As she neared the guards at the doors to her chambers, Catherine felt grateful for their presence that night. She strode past them and closed the door behind her. Cupping the back of her tired neck in her hand, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against her fingers, trying to ease the strain in her muscles. Turning to her vanity to begin preparing herself for bed, she startled when she saw her husband standing from the window seat where he had evidently been sitting to await her to return. At her questioning gaze, Henry crossed the room to her with large strides before she had time to form a sentence and took her hands in his.

"I'm sorry if I startled you. I know you said you wanted to be left alone this evening, but… I wanted to check that you were alright before going to bed." His dark brown eyes were soft with concern, and she wished he would always be this gentle when he looked at her.

"I'm fine, Henry. Just tired."

"And the boys? Are they settled?"

"Yes," Catherine dropped her gaze for a moment, smiling fondly at the thought of their sons, "They're fast asleep. I've asked the nanny to stay in their room just for tonight. It will… give me peace of mind."

"And do you have peace of mind?"

Catherine looked up into Henry's eyes, wondering why he needed to know, and whether she felt safe trusting him again with her feelings. He had been so kind and understanding of her emotional state of late. Quite the unexpected surprise. She pulled back from him a little, her gaze shifting away, removing her hands from his gentle hold and turning to place them instead on the back of the chair at her vanity.

"Not really." She scratched absently at the wood grain of the chair with her fingernail.

"I thought not." His voice was soft and his tone caring as he stepped in close beside her, laying his warm hand over hers on the wood of the chair. She felt the fingers of his other hand brush her cheek in the silence, before they traced her jawbone down beneath her chin, lifting it up gently so that her gaze could meet his. As their eyes locked, Catherine stifled the gasp that almost escaped her throat. In the firelight and candlelight, her husband's touch and that look in his eyes, it was almost intoxicating. She was caught by surprise at the strength of her sudden rush of feelings for him – feelings that were always there, but which she worked so hard to push beneath the surface every day, because they were inconvenient when they weren't reciprocated, and only served to cause her pain.

He gazed into her, and she was almost lost in him, almost completely given over to that familiar pull of the darkness of his eyes, and the heat that his touch gave to her skin. Then she remembered the pain he was able to cause her, and felt afraid and overwhelmed by the way he was making her feel. She dropped her gaze abruptly and pulled away from him, placing distance between them by sitting in her chair and lifting off her crown.

"I'm tired Henry. I need to get ready for bed." Catherine kept her voice level, and as disinterested as possible. "Where are my ladies?"

"I dismissed them." Catherine swung round to face him, shocked at her husband's admission. "I – I thought that perhaps I could help you instead?" Henry's gaze faltered, and he suddenly seemed less confident in the face of her hard expression that he couldn't read. "I hoped… that I could be a comfort to you after such a day."

Catherine raised her eyebrows, her expression changing to one of incredulous suspicion, almost questioning him with sarcasm in her eyes as to what exactly he meant by the offer. Recognising the unspoken question, Henry responded quickly.

"Only to help you prepare for bed, Catherine. I had no other intentions! It has been hard to see you so worried today about the boys. I suppose I am reassuring myself by making sure you are taken care of."

His wife didn't move, or look away from him. The doubt remained in her eyes, but her expression softened somewhat.

"It has been a difficult day…" Henry pressed.

Fixing him with a slightly distrustful look, Catherine finally turned back around in the chair, and allowed her husband to take care of her. Henry removed the pins from her hair, and brushed his fingers through the soft curls as they were released, smiling quietly to himself as he enjoyed the activity. He had missed her hair between his fingers, smooth as silk, and bright as the sunset. Trying not to linger as much as he longed to, in case he gave his Queen the wrong impression, he moved to place the pins in the container she kept on her vanity.

Catherine removed her earrings and necklace, glancing at her husband's reflection in the mirror. It was all so awkward, and yet she wished… she wished it wasn't. She missed his attentiveness, and even craved it, but she had to guard her heart. She wouldn't be hurt again, not when there had been enough hurt to deal with recently.

She stood and moved away from the vanity, hesitating for a moment with a mixture of hope and anxiety held in her eyes as she looked at Henry, before turning her back to him and pulling her hair over one shoulder. Henry moved towards her, breathlessly unsure of what he had seen in his wife's eyes. He could tell she was concerned – perhaps she felt that he would hurt her again? But had he also seen… a glimmer of something else? Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Longing? Curiosity? No, that wasn't it. Surely she didn't harbor any feelings for him?! He was quite sure she had none!

Reaching out, he undid the ties of her dress, and carefully unlaced her down the back. He was forgetting how to breathe; a haze separating him from his good intentions. The silence, the way the room was lit, the way her hair had felt between his fingers… and her skin at her shoulders and the nape of her neck. So very beautiful. Henry grazed his fingers across the skin of her exposed back, pretending to reach for the lace he had dropped, and felt Catherine shiver slightly at his touch. Her dress was unlaced now, but he didn't move, and neither did she. He wished he knew what was going through her mind. He wished he understood her better, and that he knew how to fix the mess he had made, and make her happy again.

All that Henry could hear was the soft sound of their breathing, and the logs settling and crackling gently in the fireplace. A curling lock of hair slipped over Catherine's shoulder and down her back. Henry stepped in close to his wife, entranced by everything about her. He reached out and languidly swept the curl back over her shoulder with his fingers. He could not help himself. Even though he knew he should not push the boundaries, he leaned down and brushed his lips against the soft nape of her neck, longing to taste her skin. He heard her breathe in sharply, and for a moment she relaxed against him, but then her shoulders stiffened and she stepped away from him, clutching her dress to her.

"Henry…" Catherine's voice came gently, but with warning in her tone.

"I'm – I'm sorry," he whispered back, "But you're so beautiful. I had forgotten. I didn't mean - "

"I can't do this tonight." Catherine let out a long sigh. "I'm exhausted. Today has just been overwhelming." She turned to face him fully, and with a gentle tone she added, "I think you should go, Henry." Smiling at his downcast expression, an unfamiliar feeling of endearment flooding her heart towards him. "I appreciate your concern," she said softly, "But really, I can finish preparing for bed myself now."

Henry nodded, acquiescing, although not wanting to leave her at all.

"Perhaps I could come and see you in the morning? See if you've slept alright? We could go and see the boys together once you are ready."

"That would be… nice." Surprised and still somewhat hesitant, Catherine smiled at her husband, and he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Until tomorrow then." He stepped forward and kissed her cheek tenderly, and she let herself breathe him in before he moved away and left her in a whirlwind of exhaustion and confusing feelings.

Stumbling out of her dress and into her nightgown, she put out the candles without thinking about it, and fell into bed, tired out. Still, she lingered for a moment before succumbing to sleep. It was nice to have Henry's loving attention again. It was too much to think about the mercurial aspect of such attentions, so she chose to ignore the warning of her heart and recklessly enjoyed the way it had felt to have his lips brush her skin, to feel his breath warm her neck and send shivers down her spine. Her eyes sliding shut, a contented little smile graced her lips as she dozed off to sleep.