~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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~The Little Queen~
6th of October 1484, Berkhamstead....
They rode for fifteen long days and while their limbs were tired and the weather cooled, their spirits were only raised with each mile south they made.
Everywhere he went, the King was greeted with fine feasts and lavish pageants, shouts of love and rose petals raining down upon him. He waved and smiled, laid a hand upon babies heads, winked at women. He indulged himself, as Constance thought he had a right to, let himself be carried away into the evenings by fine wine and lively music but in the quiet moments she could see a new heaviness to him, a weight that clouded his eyes once he was in his cups and made his shoulders slump.
He wore it like a mantle never to be taken off and his mother suspected it never would be. He was king and no amount of days, months or years could remove Sutton Bank from his mind. The most present reminder was Arthur's body, dragged behind them on a cart from the time they mounted their horses at dawn until the time they came to a halt at night, allowing all it passed by to see the usurper was slain and the rightful king victorious, never to be cast down again - a warning to any that would seek to repeat the traitor's treason.
After two weeks his skin was turning a strange shade of green and his wounds were rotting, filled with flies and maggots and carrying a scent that made any who strayed within its reach wrinkle their noses in disgust.
But still, each morn Edward rose from his bed, dressed in his finery and mounted his horse to ride ever closer to London, waving and smiling as he went.
News of celebration across the land reached them but the most joyous of all (though not surprising to its receivers) was word that Marie had taken London - if such could be said for there was no need for taking! The gates opened immediately to her, leaving the remaining Woodville men there to flee or be captured, the latter of which the majority were.
Welcomed with open arms by the people, she prepared for her brother's return and coronation, a ceremony Constance had no doubt would be even greater than she and Ned's had been with her daughter at the helm!
Constance rose that morning with a renewed spirit, barely able to stay still as she was dressed and her hair tucked beneath her hennin. She found herself glancing at her reflection in the mirror at least thrice every minute for she was determined to look perfect. She would not have cared for her looks if it were only her sons she was to reunite with for she would worry for nothing but having them safe in her arms!
However, that day was the day she was to meet her daughter in law, the new Queen of England. Anne of Brittany had landed at Great Yarmouth only five days prior with a vast entourage and her brothers in law and made great hate to Berkhamstead so she would enter London with her husband.
