~𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖞𝖆𝖑 𝖎𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌~
Born the youngest daughter of Charles I, Duke of Bourbon, Constance of Bourbon grows up amidst comfort and splendour on her powerful family's estates in France. A shy child, she prefers her...
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~Ties that Bind~
When the Yorkist party rode into the courtyard of Baynards Castle, their army now disbanded to taverns, Constance began to suspect that she'd died from excitement for stood on the castle steps before great open doors, like an angel before the gates of heaven, stood the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.
Even more beautiful than her own Mother, though guilt pricked at her loyal heart to admit it.
She wore a long gown of blue silk, trimmed with the purest white fur, skirts flaring out from her cinched in waist and precious rings on almost every slender finger.
Her perfectly oval face and defined jawline made her seem a sculpted statue, her small nose and perfectly set teeth shining like the pearls around her neck, her crowning glory a mass of flaxen hair that was like spun gold and left loose to flow to her hips beneath her Duchess' coronet.
Constance knew she would never forget her first blinding glimpse of Cecily Neville.
Her beautiful cornflower blue eyes were like those of a hawk, swift and all seeing, precise, perfect for hunting out those she wished. Those eyes never left Constance as the party approached, flitting across her face to her arms wrapped around Edward's waist.
"Ma Mére!" The call of her son made Cecily look up and a smile brighter than the sun stretched across her lips. There could be no doubt of the pride in her gaze.
"My son!" She greeted, skirts fluttering around her silk-slippered feet as she descended the swept steps "Oh, how you have grown!"
Pulling his steed to a halt, Edward easily dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with a great thud before he was in his Mother's arms. Constance watched the reunion almost enviously, many times had she wished for the love the Duchess clearly bore for her son "You are a true man now, Ned!" She praised and he drew back his broad shoulders, standing tall "In more ways than one"
Her gaze flicked curiously to Constance again and he made a hum of remembrance, releasing her to turn back to his horse and offer up his arms.
"Come, my Lady" He said and, gathering her skirts, Constance slipped easily into his arms, eternally grateful when he chose to keep one around her waist once she was upon the ground. Perhaps that would soften Cecily's heart, she thought, but there was no need.
"Constance I believe?" She asked lightly and the girl nodded, dipping into a curtsy.
"It is an honour to meet you, Duchess Cecily" She managed, praying her practiced words were perfect before rising to find the same dazzling smile on the Duchess' lips as she'd held when she greeted her son. A sound prettier than the singing of angels slipped past them, a laugh, and suddenly, Constance found elegant hands outstretched to her and grappled to take them, thinking she must be dreaming when Cecily spoke.
