𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗘𝗡'𝗦 𝗣𝗢𝗜𝗦𝗢𝗡 || 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻

7

"I hope so, my lady." It was the only thing Clara said. The gown she was dressed in was rather dull, but Cecily did not mind. Any gown was good enough for her. She would take a peasant's garb over only just her old dirtied chemise that she had been kept in during her captivity. The gown was a deep plum colour, washed out and dreary, an older style that Cecily's grandmother might have worn in her youth. Her hair was pulled into a basic braids, let down over her shoulder so Cecily could fidget with the ends of it.

After that, she had been fed. Bread and salt and fresh cheese. It was the only thing she had been eating as of late. The only thing her stomach could keep down without her vomiting. It was getting better, though. Clara had said so, and offered her some herbs to calm her volatile belly so she may eat a bit more.

By the time she had finished breaking her fast, she heard the soldiers outside calling for the gate to open, followed by heavy thuds of horse hooves and the crunching of dirt beneath the wheels of a carriage. Cecily swallowed the bile that forced its way up her throat and followed Clara out of the room. She took the offered hand of the woman, allowing her to squeeze her bony fingers in her own plump ones as she let her outside.

The day was bright and hot, the summer sun beating down on her the moment she stepped out of the castle. The walls surrounding the courtyard were old, crumbled and unused. A fortress inconspicuous enough to hold a prisoner, especially one of so little value now. Once, perhaps, she was more important in enemy hands. But from what she had heard, the King's daughter was back in the hands of the Lancastrians and her father had been forced out of the country. That was months ago. Still, she may have had more of a price if it weren't for Henry Percy. If the blood of her lost maidenhead was not smeared across her thigh, and if she had not been used after that a few times more.

Cecily wondered if any of the soldiers around her knew what had truly occurred in that cell. If Clara knew. If her father knew. She may have felt bitterness for him once, but there was nothing really to feel now except for fear. Maybe it would return later, when she was face to face with him again. If that even happened.

The carriage rolled to a stop and one of the soldiers accompanying it rushed forward to open the door. The woman who stepped out was beautiful, an elven princess from the old tales. Auburn hair flooded down her back, only a half up-do keeping it out of her face. Her skin was pale and cold looking, almost like the pearls Cecily's mother always whore around her neck. She stepped forward without any of the reluctance others usually approached her with.

"You are Cecily Neville?" The woman's voice was as soft as a summer's rain, and Cecily found it was a most pleasant sound. She nodded in answer, shifting awkwardly in her place. The smile the woman gave her was not a cruel and jeering one, but it held not kindness either. It was a strange sight, something that was meant as an attempt to comfort her, but something in the woman's eyes remained haunted and afraid. She knew then. The way she looked at Cecily was so different from everyone else. She knew, and the others didn't. Perhaps she had a bigger price after all, if only a few knew of the horror enacted on her. "My name is Lady Katherine Howard, you will be traveling with us to Pembroke Castle."

Lady Howard, Cecily had heard that name before. The King's mistress, she realised, biting down on her tongue. She nodded at the woman, unsure if she would be able to speak out loud. The woman smiled again, the smallest bit warmer this time, and gestured toward the carriage. With a heavy sigh, Cecily did as was expected of her.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

The rain had been pattering down at them for hours now, but the Lady Katherine had not allowed the soldiers to stop and rest. She seemed to look out at their surrounding often, eyes jittering across the land of fields and forests as if she was expecting something to be there. It did not matter to Cecily, she only wanted to be alone. It was an impossible wish to fulfil. She would be stuck in this carriage until their arrived at Pembroke, with the Lady Katherine and the golden-haired girl with a book in her hands. The King's daughter, she knew. The very girl she had been traded for.