Author’s Note: I forgot to put the chapter in the queue! Oh shit, oh shit, sorry!
So, according to the timeline of the Hundred Years War, I could not have the two things I wanted the most: Catherine telling Harry she was pregnant, and Harry being there when Henry was born. I looked at the timeline long and hard, then basically said ‘fuck you’. So the whole timeline has been royally fucked up, and let us just consider that instead of dying in August, Harry made it home in, like, June or something, okay? If Shakespeare can ignore key historical details for literary license, then dammit, so can I. I am only following the Bard’s example. Oh, also, spoiler alert: Harry doesn’t die, because I love him a lot more than good ol’ William S. did.
Her present circumstances were such that sleep was a fond memory of the past, and she dared not close her eyes for fear of invoking ghoulish visions of blood and gore and battlefields. Instead, she spent all her days praying, and her nights tossing and turning in bed. The court was filled with people who saw her with hatred and contempt, but she persevered. She was no longer a child but a queen, and she was well aware she was not well-liked at court. Instead of pandering to wealthy nobles in an effort to woo their support, Catherine spent her days gathering gossip from her ladies-in-waiting.
Thomas, the Duke of Clarence, was dead, and her husband was on the warpath.
“Promise me.” “I’ll look after her. I will look after everyone. I promise you. I know I’ve done terrible things. I’m sorry I wasn’t the mother that you wanted me to be. I did my best.” “I know. In your own way.”