~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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~A Simple Smile~
11th of July 1484, Middleham Castle....
Edward waved away his formal Uncle's greeting as he entered his study, shaking his head at the offered bow. "There is no need, Uncle" He said "Not when we are alone" And Richard smiled, placing down the book he'd been reading at his desk before his nephew arrived.
"There is every need, Edward" He gestured to the window on the left side of the desk, something rather large and solid standing in front of it, draped in purple velvet; casting a curved shadow ahead of it. It was another blindingly sunny day "Come. I have something to show you"
His nephew was more than happy to obey, hands clasped behind his back as he followed Richard toward the window and they stopped before the velvet cover. Edward tilted his head, trying to make out what was underneath purely based upon the faint shapes he could make out beneath the cloth.
He couldn't.
"What is it Uncle?" "Something for you" Was the reply, answering virtually nothing and Edward grinned. How he'd missed his Uncle, all felt so easy between them, so natural, void of any awkwardness he'd perhaps feared would come between them. Apart from, of course, the amount of ceremony he now had to be addressed with and his Uncle strictly adhered to "I hope you shall like it"
Stepping forward, Richard took hold of the cloth and in one swift swoop of his wrist, the velvet rippled away in a river of purple, revealing what it guarded beneath.
Edward's eyes blew wide.
Upon a wooden mannequin was placed the most glorious suit of armour he'd ever laid eyes upon. Fashioned from polished black armour, the breastplate beautifully decorated with gold damascening along the edges and centre of the plackart in the shape of streaming suns and York roses.
Across the armour the symbols of his house were engraved into the metal, even on the points of the sabatons, the fine fingers of his gauntlets, and atop the mannequin was a sallet helmet with a golden crown melded to it.
Speechless, he reached out to touch the iron suit, the metal cool against his fingers, the embellishment pressing into his skin.
"Uncle...." He whispered with a shake of his head. Never in his life had he seen armour so fine, so regal yet strong; every inch of iron a symbol of power "It is glorious" Richard smiled, brushing a hand along the pauldron.
"You have no need of gold plate to prove you are King" He replied, making reference to the armour Edward had arrived in which, while a truly fine piece and made him look the sun on Earth, Richard was convinced he would look not only the sun, a son of York, but a King, a warrior in this suit"I have spent the past months designing it in secret and had the village blacksmiths here and in Bolton working day and night since we took back the castle" He continued, looking at his nephew "The Scropes helped source the necessary metals" He smiled again "Even your Mother does not know, we shall surprise her!"
