~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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~Father, Mother, Uncle~
Two weeks later, Westminster Palace,
As streaks of sunlight graced the dawn, the sky was painted into a myriad of colours. Pinks, purples, oranges, preceded the true light of day and the court still slept. Well, the nobles did. Their guards stood, armour-clad, at their posts, slumping against their pikes while they knew they could afford to.
Inside the King's chambers, the royal couple lay intertwined, Constance's head on Edward's chest, her belly nestled between them. One of his hands lay on the soft curve and had lain there all night, never moving, always protecting.
Ever since their return to Westminster just nine days before he'd not once left her lonely at night. From dusk till dawn, his Queen lay sweetly in his arms and they were content, despite refraining from their lovemaking.
What was more, Elizabeth and her clan had stayed away entirely, in fact they still resided at Sheen on the King's orders. Constance had thought her threats would only take a momentary effect but the truth was the opposite.
Since the day she'd sent Elizabeth from her rooms she'd not seen her once and she didn't think she'd ever felt so free! Well, she'd felt more so when the Woodvilles were away from London altogether but they were of little concern to her as the Nevilles and George had flounced away from court again!
James would've too, she was sure, if it was not for her but her brother was ever loyal and stayed put by her side. His anger toward Edward did not settle easily, though. More than once Constance had caught him glaring at her husband and he refused to grant him one word that wasn't 'yes', 'no' or 'your grace' when the King addressed him.
If Edward noticed his coolness, he didn't comment on it and Constance believed he was far too preoccupied with the Neville's and George's departure to be concerned with her little brother!
Luckily, they didn't grip her mind in the realm of dreams and a small smile curved her lips in sleep. She dreamt of a babe, her babe, with ivory skin and hair the colour of corn nestled in her husband's arms. It was the sweetest vision, sweeter than the honey bread she favoured, and she lay content with Edward as the sun rose, their growing child between them.
The sky was finally a bright blue when the door to their bedchamber opened slightly and a pair of little feet padded across the floor. The steps were so soft, one could almost believe them to belong to a mouse but when a pair of small hands landed on the covers, hoisting up a little girl, it was plain to see there was no mouse, it was Princess Marie.
She'd woken early that morning in her nursery bed, clutching the toy bunny Dickon had given her for her first birthday and staring up at the ceiling; a frown on her face. She'd thought and thought and thought a little more until finally slipping from the warm covers and past her slumbering attendants on their pallet beds, not bothering to put a robe over her nightgown.
