𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑉𝐼𝐼𝐼

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~The Act of Accord~

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~The Act of Accord~

10th of October, 1460....

Constance smiled as she listened to the Cecily's overjoyed cries echoing from the courtyard below, the sign that the Duke of York had finally returned from exile in Ireland.

"Papa! Me want baby!" Anne demanded, leaning forward on her Father's lap to try and grasp the newborn babe at the other side of the hearth.
"Not, now, Nan" He chided, pulling her back with a gentleness that made Constance grin.

While Richard was kind, he was also a warrior, a man so to see him act the loving nursemaid he appeared when with his two girls almost made her laugh! He acted so with all children it seemed for the day he met little James, he'd cradled the babe as tenderly as if he were his own, possessing none of the aversion most men held for mewling babes!

He reminded her of her Father in that.

"When you are a little older, Anne" She told the three year old "Although he is small I think he would be rather heavy for you!" Anne shrugged happily and took to staring at the fire, little legs swinging as Constance looked down at her son.

Every time she did he appeared more perfect! At four days old he was a tiny little thing, every inch of him soft, smelling sweet, but he was strong, as strong as he'd proven in the womb with his determined kicks. The more she stared, the more time she spent with him, the more she wondered how, why her Mother hadn't felt the love she felt for James.

She'd questioned it before but never more so than now when her heart was filled with nothing but adoration for the little baby she'd created! When she woke all she wished to do was cuddle him close, when others held him, her eyes never left his face, searching for any sign of discomfort or distress. All Agnes had appeared to feel was indifference. Why? For Constance was sure her son would be the most beloved boy in Christendom!

"My little Jamie" She hummed happily and across the hearth, Richard smiled, one hand combing idly through his daughter's soft hair.

"You have done your duty" He said "You must be proud, Constance"
"I am" She admitted quietly, raising her eyes to his "Although I am no different from any other woman...."

Heavy pairs of boots marched along the corridor with the merry laughter of men and she exhaled shakily at the idea she was about to meet her Father in law; the rightful King of England. What would she say to him, how would she curtsy? She could still barely walk after the birth, each step forcing invisible daggers into her legs.....

There was no time to think as the doors flew open and three men strode through, Edward standing tall in the middle with his arms around the others. The first was obviously his Father, a little shorter than his son with a crop of dark curled hair on his head and a pointed beard, meticulously combed. Dressed in murrey and blue, his doublet was emblazoned with York's white rose as was the heavy chain of office on his broad shoulders.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 || 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵Where stories live. Discover now