~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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~Ordo et Abundantia~
13th of October 1484, the Tower of London....
The feast of St Edward the Confessor - what an auspicious day for her boy to be crowned, Constance thought! They'd planned it that way of course but it would still bode well. For them it gave an added level of grandeur, of approval - to the people, the promise of a great king.
Twelve new knight of the bath had been created the previous night (including her own dear son, Richard) and Edward and Anne gifted one another robes of crimson velvet before they retired to their chambers. It was to her son's she now headed, heart fluttering as the hem of her cloth of gold gown did around her feet, the heavy train trailing behind her - her crown upon her head.
It was the last time the heavy circle of gold would touch her head and while she mourned it for Edward, she found she did not mind the thought of it being on Anne's. Whether it would fit her was a different matter.
The guards standing at Edward's chambers bowed as she arrived, opening the door and lowering their eyes when she swept through. She was barely over the threshold when her feet came to a sudden stop.
Surrounded by four esquires of the body he stood tall with his back to her in his long gown of crimson velvet, head turned to the nearby window which looked out over the green. Hair brushed and freshly washed, still slightly damp, his curls shone in the morning sun, spun gold atop his head almost more splendid than the crown soon to sit on it.
His cloak of purple velvet and ermine lay draped across the arms of one of his esquire while the others attended to the king, fastening the bejewelled belt wrapped around his waist, encrusted with diamonds and rubies and straightening the gowns hem.
Constance stepped forward, gathering her heavy skirts and dipping into a deep curtsy. "Your grace."
Edward turned and a smile lit his face. "Mother!" He exclaimed and stepped away from his men, offering her his hands and raising her to his feet. Constance fought to keep proud tears from her eyes. He looked so noble, so regal, so like her Ned.
"My love." She greeted, kissing both his rosy cheeks "How fine you look." Squeezing his hands, she stepped around him and towards the esquire holding the cloak "I shall ready the king." She said firmly and the heavy material was quickly passed into her awaiting arms, bows offered before the room cleared of all but she and her son.
"They were doing quite a fine job!" He said, watching after them as the door closed. "Not as fine as your mother can." She replied, returning to his side "And I want to look upon you one last time before the throne takes you from me." "I'm not dying, Mother!" He chuckled as she shook out the robe and, gazing into his face, reached up and drew it around his shoulders. He bore the weight proudly as she fastened the golden clasp.
