~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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~Blood of my Blood~
July 1475, Westminster Palace....
It had taken her longer to recover from Princess Aliénor's birth than it had from previous ones due to the difficulty and blood loss and even as she heaved herself from bed on the morning the English were to depart to France, she felt her head spin.
While the birth of the little Princess thawed the iciness between the King and Queen somewhat, they remained at angry odds. Edward refused to relent in his plans for France and, despite her health, on that note Constance had decided she would go with him. If she couldn't prevent him setting sail she could work to prevent bloodshed.
That would at least perhaps console the English people somewhat as they were up in arms over the taxes raised to fund the war - a war that wasn't needed. "Stubborn Yorks" Constance mumbled as she stood, stretching her arms above her head and trying to keep her balance.
"Are you sure about this, sister?" Beth asked as she lay out the Queen's clothes "You are not yet fully recovered from the birth of the Princess" Constance only shrugged, perching on the bed so Anne could put on her stockings. "Have the children arrived from Eltham?" "They have" "Good. Have them brought to me once I'm ready"
Though it was through heavy skirts and velvet flounces, Constance dressed as a warrior that morn, preparing her soul for battle.
The silk cords pulled taught to tie her cuffs became the hardened leather straps of a vambrace; the crucifix hanging heavy around her neck a golden gorget. Anne's slender fingers drew her hair back, gathering it beneath a veil, a helmet of sheer white silk that flowed to her knees, secured by a silver circlet like clasps to a sallet.
Her gown became velvet chain mail, heavy, tight, deep blue with golden roses stitched atop it; her favour for luck. Dark blue against gold, the colours of her home country, the colours of France in the English court. Yes, she was going into battle that day and one way or another she would win.
"Bring my son to me first, Lizzy" She ordered as a white cloak was draped over her shoulders, bearing St George's cross on the back to make the flag of England, and clasped, hiding her gown "there is something I must say to him alone"
Lizzy curtsied and stepped into the anti chamber where the five royal children waited, Aliénor being cradled by her nurse. The youngest Princess also had a wet nurse, the Queen's ill health rendering her unable to produce enough milk to feed the child which broke her heart.
"Prince Edward?" The little boy looked up from where he was playing knucklebones with Isabella and tilted his head. "Yes Lady Lizzy?" "Your Lady Mother, has sent for you"
