~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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~My Baby~
June 1470, Westminster Palace....
Constance didn't think she had ever been as terrified as when she stepped into confinement at the end of May, covered in jewels but more afraid than a child was of the dark. Edward held her hand, guiding her inside the dark chamber where her ladies waited, all garbed in the same orange gowns crafted for the birth of Marie.
Many years had passed since then, over half a decade since a baby's cry filled the confinement chamber. Yes, the thought was terrifying and only intensified by the death of Isabel Neville's baby at sea two months before. He'd been too early, there had been no physician but the loss was enough to drive more terror into her heart.
Anne, Beth, Isabella and Katherine all curtsied, their eyes filled with the same fear as the Queen's but not for the baby: for her. None could imagine a kinder mistress than Constance was, none could imagine a better Queen and each of them knew the pain of childbirth.
It was always a torture but more so for a woman who'd lost five babes out of her six. The day of the birth loomed over the Queen's head like a dark cloud, ready to rain down hell upon her with every contraction that would racked her belly.
The heavy door shut behind and she looked around the confinement chamber, dark, constricting, no more than a comfortable cage in her mind.
The large bed was piled with furs, wood was stacked beside the fire and more would be delivered each day despite it being summer! Really, if they intended to cook her her confinement would certainly make a good oven! Carpets and tapestries covered the floor and walls, leaving not one inch of stone to touch the Queen's precious skin, though their patterns were not clear in the dim light.
Only a few shards of sun slipped thought the heavily bolted shutters and Constance found herself wondering how she would breathe in such a space. If she could not survive, how would her boy? What if her Prince died during the birth? What if something went wrong? What if God snatched him away from her like he had done with James?
Edward's hand squeezed hers.
Garbed in a doublet of cloth of gold, lined with white fur and diamonds, there could be no doubt he was King but when he turned to her, all Constance saw was a loving husband.
"Come, my sweet lady" He told her, leading her to the bed and settling her upon the soft covers. Blue eyes wandered over her gown, looking at the tight loops of silk holding the material together with distaste "Here, it's too tight" He said and unhooked the girdle she wore, nodding to himself "Nothing should restrict the babe, my love"
His Motherly worry was enough to make her smile somewhat but it couldn't hold her attention and soon her eyes drifted around again. Her lower lip quaked as Edward slid her rings from her fingers, dropping them onto the covers alongside her girdle with a definite clink.
