𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 . . . katharine grey ( @katharined ) 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 . . . hampton court .
the news of a resurrected edward seymour did not fill her with an immense hope as some might have speculated but rather with a dread that had thickened by the hour, as cloying as honey left outside to attract flies until the churning within her had forced the duchess of suffolk to empty out the contents of her stomach, sending the household servants away with express orders to inform her mother of the sudden malady that had stricken her to points of weakness. the back of her throat was sore from the bout of sickness but philippa could not allow that to hinder her purposeful actions, the sharpened tip of her quill scratching out a letter to the head of their households in chelsea and bradgate to inform them of the news and of what to expect should the clandestine marriage between amelia and john seymour come to light at such an inopportune moment. her fingers trembled with the intensity in which she held the quill, the feathered stylus splintered between her grasp as the door to her private chambers parted to usher the formidable katharine grey into her sanctuary. casting the quill aside, she rested one hand upon the bodiced span of her stomach as she paced before the window, burnt - gold locks entangled from where she had torn the headdress from her cranium ─ the sharp burn of tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, breathing growing erratic before the one person she trusted with her life, her truths, both beautiful and monstrous.
❝ if they find out about amelia and john ... ❞ her voice cracked with emotion as she turned from the window to gaze imploringly, hopelessly at the older woman, no better than a babe before her mother. ❝ they will think we conspire with the medici and that ... that man who calls himself edward seymour. they will think i conspire with the medici ... what will ... ❞ a stuttered breath caught in her throat, philippa pounded a fist against her stomach, inflicting self - punishment as a reminder to keep it together. she could strangle her sister for what she had done in the name of love, burdening the duchess with two more innocents to care for ─ one, a soft - spined man and the other a babe, twelve months old. ( in a moment of insanity, she wondered if the king might be moved to mercy if she betrayed her sister now, before the lie was unveiled against their wishes. her mother would never forgive her but it was better to be hated by the living than loved by the dead. )
a hand travelled to press tightly against her mouth, smothering the pained whimpers at such heinous thoughts. ❝ they will kill us. you and nicholas ... amelia and jack ... god, they will kill us if they find out, mother. ❞ the recent executions came to mind, the bloody spray of warm crimson against the fullness of her skirts as the hallowes' were relieved of their treasonous heads, only now, in their place, stood her family, her darling husband who was undeserving of the instability that she brought into his life by mere existence. ❝ what do i do ? what do i do ? tell me what to do, mama. ❞
