𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 || 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑋𝑋𝐼𝐼𝐼

~To Save a King his Country~

Despite the late summer heat, Constance shivered as she walked into the great hall of Warwick castle with John at her side. The great Earl waited at the other end, a brooding figure that had seemed to eager to please upon the ramparts but now all had changed.

Before he had been the animal trapped in a cage, forced to comply with his enemies but now, they were the ones who were trapped, in a way, they were in his territory.

This was his castle, his domain, this fine building of stone and marble adorned with colourful tapestries woven with gold. His young daughters had been herded away by his wife to their rooms so there was no chance of them catching sight of the Queen they worshipped as a goddess or their beloved Uncle.

Richard knew Isabel wished to return to her service even though she was with child, he knew Anne once again wished to be the beloved protege and perhaps one day she would be.....

His brother marched towards him like a dark shadow of himself, his usual smile no where to be seen and one hand clamped firmly on his sword. John was a famed swordsman, one that his own brothers revered and Warwick knew any who dared to cross him would end up with their limbs hacked to pieces.

Neither brother made a move to embrace the other and even though he wanted to, the Earl refrained from embracing the Queen, seeing the stony look consuming the dark depths of her eyes.

There was none of her usual warmth swimming within them, none of her usual friendliness or the light laugh that would emerge right before she'd embrace him. Her heart wished for the usual affection between them, but her head would not allow it.

Marie was not their either, the little bouncing bundle of joy that would scream his name before jumping onto him; clinging to his clothes like the monkeys at the Tower menagerie. Weather he would ever see the Princess again was as uncertain as the future of England.

But he could sense defeat was near and almost felt like cowering before it like he would have done as a young boy.

"Lord Warwick" He snapped from his dark daydreams to see the Queen and his brother before him, both faces stoic with concealed rage. Constance appeared a true ruler at that moment, her crown on her head and a commanding note to her voice that had developed over her years of marriage to the King - now put to use.

Warwick opened his mount to speak but she held up a hand, swiftly cutting him off before a syllable had even passed his lips "Take me to my husband" her eyes narrowed slightly "your rightful King"

He had no choice but to bow and begin to lead the way, a wave of guilt crashing over him until Constance spoke again, brushing past him cooly.