~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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~Lost Souls~
November 1470, Westminster Palace....
It was just as it had been in April.
A trap.
A trap set by master hands intending to catch a prized mouse and, while the King was not caught, it had snapped away his pride and power in one foul swing.
Every inch had been planned out, every move, every whiff of bait placed exactly where Lancaster wanted it to draw Edward in. He'd been drawn by the news of Warwick's northern landing, intent on crushing him flat with the promise of the York sons reunited....only the enemy hadn't landed in the North.
The King wasn't to know that; wasn't to know that each day, each hour, each step brought him closer and closer into the spider's web, that invisible ropes were being wound around him.
At Doncaster those ropes were finally seen, glistening with betrayal under the full moon as Warwick's army advanced on Conisbrough Castle in a storm of swords and treason. The guards barely had time to raise the alarm before the enemy was upon them, tearing through the gates like hungry wolves with Somerset and Warwick at the head.
One was more undoubtedly keener than the other, calling out for Edward of York, for his head. 'I'll have it on a spike by dawn' the Duke had boasted and if the King's younger brother hadn't been a light sleeper, perhaps he would've succeeded.
Dickon had jumped from his bed at the first sign of trouble, pulling on his clothes as he ran through the halls, yelling into every bedchamber at the top of his lungs. Soon, the whole castle were roused but they were unprepared, lambs for the slaughter, which left only one option.
Running.
And run they had.
From Edward's bedroom window they'd jumped into the dark moat: the King, his brother, two of his friends, John, Will and Anthony Woodville, barely dressed with not a penny to their name. They slipped away, the King of England decreased to a thief in the night. He barely made it across the channel alive, having to give his cloak to the boat master as payment.
Only James stayed behind, gathering what few men he could to buy the King time. Soon, all but he were dead and he was hauled forth before the Duke and Earl, the former of which wanted him executed as an example. Only Warwick's reminder that King Louis wanted the Bourbon Lord alive stopped him, so it was decided he would be kept under lock and key until he could be returned to France.
The moment it became clear their target had slipped the net, the Lancastrians descended on London with brutal force, deciding if they could not tear out the root, they would crush the stem.
Elizabeth fled into sanctuary at Westminster Abbey with her boys and that was where she stayed.
No one knew where George stood but most never did. George stood where George was safe or where his ambition was fed. The latter certainly wasn't being sated Lizzy thought as she thought of how the Duke of Clarence was shunned at court by almost all.
