Dream || Henry IV

Chapter I

Past 1373...

It was a rare time for the King of England. For a moment, he could relax and enjoy the company of whichever family member stumbled upon him and not worry about the state or the war with France. It was a lovely summer day and the colored panes of the windows caused the sunlight to turn his granddaughter's red hair to turn green and blue.

She always seemed to find him, her smile bright and shining eyes full of mirth. The little youth always found herself on his lap, managing to take her grandfather's expensive crown off of his head and play with it.

Darling Katherine always seemed to be ready to bombard him with random questions and today was no exception.

"When I die, your father will become king and you will be a princess," Edward said, answering one of her many inquires about her status, and she frowned.

"Aren't I already a princess, Grandfather?"

"In name only," he replied and her frown only deepened as her fingers toyed with his crown, running over each jewel hammered into the circlet. It was Saint Edward's, a historic object that he would never dare to sell off, even if he was in debt. However, the king trusted his granddaughter with all his heart and he knew that she would not damage it.

"If becoming a real princess requires you to die," she said before looking up at him."Then I don't want to be princess!" She declared.

Edward smiled and kissed his granddaughter's forehead. She had some understanding of what her future held, but she did not realize the full extent of it. A daughter of a king would marry a future king or duke of some far-off country. But Katherine believed she'd marry someone handsome and strong, like a man from a fairytale and remain in England. Edward was certain that there was no one in the world like that for his five-year-old granddaughter.

Still, he would not tell her just yet. Her youthful innocence was her strength and besides, there was time for her to learn. After all, his son would have to wait a little longer to become king.

"Do not grieve too soon, sweet Katherine. It is the natural circle of life," he said and she tilted her head to the side.

"I do not grieve...not yet anyway," she replied, "I have father, mother, my brothers, and you! I shall never be alone."

Present June 8, 1376...

Katherine remembered very little of her brothers – Edward of Angoulême and Thomas Holland. Only the memory of black banners remained of her older-half brother. Her parents never spoke ill of him, while Richard spoke nothing of him. Katherine could still see her older brother holding her hand, tugging her along as Joan of Kent wept. The great beauty let her tears fall and they shimmered in the French sun, contrasting with her dark clothes as Angoulême was buried.

Only now, she wept for a different Edward.

All semblance of courtly decorum was lost as the little princess ran through the halls of the Palace of Westminster, leaving the letter that had summoned her, to fall to the floor. Her veil flitted around her head like a giant butterfly, beating at the long braid her hair was tied into. Katherine ignored the servants who walked across the stones of the two-hundred-year-old palace.

Her breath came out in small puffs of frosty clouds, tickling her cheeks. Usually, this would have made her giggle and dance, but her feet could do nothing but carry her forward. She saw the great towering miter of the Bishop of Bangor and panic raced through her veins. Katherine shoved him aside, ignoring the scowl upon his face as she burst into her father's chambers, almost stumbling over the hem of her dress.