𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 || 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝐿𝑋𝐼𝐼

~Mother~

December 1476, Windsor Castle....

When James came to her chambers, grim faced and brooding, Constance knew he'd seen their Mother.

Lady Agnes had arrived in early November and her daughter was shocked to see she'd retained almost none of the stunning beauty she remembered. Her face was worryingly gaunt (as was the rest of her body), her eyes sunken into her head and her skin was almost translucent. She needed the aid of her ladies to walk and almost always had a handkerchief pressed to her mouth to catch the blood she coughed up.

She'd weakly greeted the King and Queen at Windsor, wrapped in furs, almost falling when she tried to curtsy so Edward had to help raise her up again. It should've brought Constance to tears to see her Mother into such a state but she only felt the same sympathy she'd feel for any struggling stranger she saw - nothing more, despite the small smile Agnes mustered for her.

Once the dowager duchess entered her chambers, she didn't remerge, spending her days in bed with incense hanging heavily in the air, sleeping or having her ladies read the Bible to her. Constance had visited her a few times, finding it awkward to even step into the room, but James avoided her their Mother entirely, not even greeting her when she arrived.

"Jamie?"
He came to her place by the fire and slumped down into the chair opposite.
"Je l'ai vue" 'I've seen her' He mumbled and his sister sighed.
"Lui avez-vous parlé?" 'Did you speak to her?'
He shook his head.
"Non. Elle dormait. Je suis parti quand elle a commencé à se réveiller" 'No. She was sleeping. I left when she began to wake'

Constance nodded, knowing she'd been tempted to do the same on her first visit, watching as James leant his chin on his hand "C'était étrange... Je sais qu'elle m'a donné la vie, mais quand je l'ai regardée... J'ai senti qu'elle n'était pas ma mère. Je n'ai pas de mère, Connie, je n'en ai jamais, je n'ai jamais eu que toi" 'It was strange....I know she gave me life but when I looked upon her....I felt she was not my Mother. I don't have a Mother, Connie, I never have, I've only ever had you'

"Et notre père" 'And our Father' She reminded him, making him smile a little.
"Tu étais son préféré mais oui, nous avions Père" 'You were his favourite but yes, we had Father'
"Eh bien, tu sais que tu es mon préféré!" 'Well, you know you're my favourite!'
"Et vous le mien" 'And you mine' He returned, the firelight flickering across his face "Cela promet d'être un Noël intéressant" 'This promises to be an interesting Christmas'

On that they definitely both agreed.

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