𝐸𝑑𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 || 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝐻𝐼𝑇𝐸 𝑄𝑈𝐸𝐸𝑁

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑉

~Of Another Name~

September, 1473, Wensleydale....

"What is she thinking?" Richard asked quietly as he came to stand beside Catherine, a look of concern on his face as he watched his wife. She was standing at the edge of one of the hills, her heavy velvet cloak pulled tightly around her as she stared blankly at Middleham Castle in the distance.

She found it strange that she did not feel as happy as she wanted as she looked upon what had come to be her home. The sun still shone, despite the late autumn chill that filled the air, and the same vibrant green swept the grass of the valleys and fields. But felt only a subdued happiness as she gazed upon it. 

"She's afraid" Catherine stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, smiling to herself as she noted Richard's surprised expression "we Woodvilles have always been able to read one another like books" she explained, for it was true "and although Leena and I have been apart in recent years....I can still see how she feels"

"So she is not angry?"
"No" Catherine said softly with a shake of her blonde head "she's not angry, merely afraid.... afraid and worried....see how she picks at the skin on her fingers?" Richard tilted his head, his brows furrowing as he noticed the red rawness of the sides of Eleanor's thumbs. They were picked clean of skin, in danger of bleeding if she was determined to keep up her habit, which she seemed to "She's always done it" the young Duchess explained "whenever she is in a time of stress, confusion or fear her poor thumbs and fingers often pay the price"

"I confess, I never noticed before" Richard murmured, contemplating walking over to Eleanor that instant to prevent her from stripping her flesh bare of all skin. Catherine smiled again.

"Perhaps she has simply never done it before when with you?" she suggested, suddenly anxious to soothe her brother in law as she saw the plain concern for her sister on his face. He had taken to twisting his rings on his fingers, a habit of his own which the young Duchess noted.

"Perhaps" he replied, absentmindedly "She's hardly spoken to me the past few weeks yet she clings to me more than ever during the nights"
"Another symptom of her fear" Catherine pointed out with a small shrug "she has hardly said two words together to me during our days travelling apart from when she told me of this.... rather inconvenient situation"

Nodding silently at the disapproval in the young Duchess' voice, Richard turned to the guards that were resting by trees that scattered the hill, their horses drinking from the babbling brook nearby.

They had sent the rest of the baggage train on at Eleanor's request, letting her simply stop and stare for a while with the excuse that she wished to show her sister her home from that particular view. With a commanding wave of the Duke's hand, the men jumped to attention, as did Anais, who had been sitting contently on a log watching a solitary grasshopper, only for Marie to pull her back down again with a shake of her head and a sharp reprimand to remind her that she 'was not a soldier'.