~Times of Great and Sudden Change~

June 1460, Château de Moulins....

Hands resting daintily atop her gown, Constance looked over the courtyard from the window of Jame's rooms, eager to see a flash of Edward's golden head crossing under the gatehouse.

It had been five months since Constance laid eyes on her husband, five months since he'd taken her to bed and loved her until dawn. She still remembered that night, how wonderful she'd felt, how adored he'd made her feel. He'd left for Calais the next day with his cousins and there he'd remained, planning for the future - their future in a sense.

To her surprise, he wrote diligently. At least twice a week a courier would appear with a letter and Constance adored each one. His words weren't cold, his sentences short, they were sweet and spun into many pages at a time, always adorned with his token endearments of 'sweetheart' or 'my sweet wife' as he'd taken to calling her.

He wrote, not as if she were a stranger but someone he'd known his whole life, detailing every aspect of his plans to her, though she understood little. His sweet trust of her in turn made her trust him and with every letter that came, her heart warmed.

Day after day she yearned for his return but he wasn't truly gone, a part of him was always there, taking root in the small bump rounding her belly. His child slept snugly in her young womb, growing by the hour, a little babe all her own she would one day cradle close.

While some girls were terrified when they found themselves with child, Constance could say she'd never felt one ounce of fear thus far, only joy. Each day she visited the chapel, thanking God for his blessing. She knew she was young, that her body was not the strongest on earth but the Lord above had chosen her for this task and she was determined to do it well!

More than that, she was determined to prove a good Mother. She would lavish the love she desired from her own on her babe each day, embroider little blankets for them and gowns or doublets too, kiss them goodnight, take walks with them in the garden! Son or daughter she would adore her baby and she hoped Edward would too - though he undoubtedly wished for a son, all men did!

When she'd written to him, telling him of their good fortune, his ecstatic reply made her grin all day! His neat handwriting turned into spirals of boyish excitement at times, dancing across the page as he asked after her health and their child's whom he referred to as he or him.

Her Mother had borne twelve children through the years, there was no reason she couldn't do the same, so if this child was not to be a boy, the next one perhaps would be! That particular thought made her shiver with delight now she knew what it took to conceive.

"Are you still waiting?" James teased, entering his bedchamber - balancing an open book in one hand and an orange in the other. Constance smiled, not glancing away from the window for a moment.

"It is my duty as a good wife to wait for my Lord husband's return" She replied, shuffling over to make room for him on the cushioned ledge "Soon you shall be married and have a wife waiting for you!"

Her little brother snorted at that, wrinkling his nose as if marriage were a bad smell he'd prefer to stay well away from!
"Nay, Connie, not I. I have no time for marriage!" He professed, clambering up beside her "It holds no interest for me!"

"It held no interest me and yet here I am!" She warned.

"And with a babe too! Though I doubt I'll be doing that!" He added, dropping the orange into her lap and grinning when she grabbed it, pushing the bright fruit to her nose; inhaling deeply. The sweet scent engrossed her senses, eliciting a happy sigh from her lips. Ever since her second month of pregnancy, she'd craved oranges, sometimes finding herself unable to stomach anything but them!

She ate them for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner and yearned for them each hour in between. As the weather warmed and the orchard ripened, she spent many happy hours beneath the fruit trees, discarded peel on her skirts.

Now she made quick work of the leather-like casing and soon popped a sweet segment into her mouth, eyes fluttering shut in bliss "Perhaps you should call the baby orange face" James murmured "at the rate you're eating them, it's likely to appear more fruit than human!"

Her eyes flew open as she stifled a laugh, about to elbow her brother in the ribs when movement in the courtyard below caught her gaze, coaxing a cry of surprise. 'At last!' She thought, shoving James aside to  hop down from the window, a hand protectively cradling her small belly.

Her husband certainly wasn't an easy man to miss! One flash of his golden hair and she knew it was him, brewing excitement within her. It was strange, she'd never imagined she would feel so towards her husband but it certainly wasn't unwelcome and after his letters she no longer viewed him as a stranger, she viewed him as a friend.

The fear she'd felt on her wedding night was long gone

Her slippered feet almost skipped down the château's spiralling staircase, gliding along the marble in a state of eager elegance she only reigned in for her child! What would Edward say? What would he do? Would he be as pleased as he appeared in his letters? Would he be proud of her perhaps?

She knew she wouldn't have to wait long to find out and in mere minutes she was nearing the château's great doors, already flung open to welcome the Earl inside. Her Mother's light voice rang out from the steps, weaving one of her usual elegant greetings and Constance was sure her blood fizzed in her veins when Edward's deep voice gave a reply.

The rich tone was almost melodic to her ears.

Pushing back her shoulders, she forced herself to slow for a moment, returning to her calmer self before stepping into the daylight. Her Mother and husband both stood on the entrance steps, she a vision of loveliness, he the picture of a traveller - blonde hair tousled, face slightly tanned.

"Ah! Here she is, my Lord!" Agnes exclaimed when her daughter appeared, taking her by the arm to guide her forward as if she'd try to escape "Lord March was just asking after you, he thought you may be resting"

"Perhaps I should be" Constance replied, gently pulling away under the believable guise of smoothing out her gown "but I wished to greet my Lord husband. It has been many moons since I saw him last"

"Too many" The sun was warm on her skin but Edward's gaze made her cheeks burn, as did his words, the two enough to set her heart racing.

He smiled down at her, ever the handsome boy she remembered him to be, though now eighteen, and gathered her skirts, dipping into a polite curtsy. She almost jumped when his hands slipped under hers, raising her swiftly upwards again, the unexpected contact sparking fire in her fingertips.

There was something reverent and lovely in his gaze, a tender concern that only increased as his blue eyes trailed from her face to her belly. Though the small bump was not visible under her gown, he knew it was there all the same and, with him distracted for a moment, Constance licked her lips, parting them to let loose a surprise.

"I am glad to see you returned well, my Lord"

His head shot up at the sentence, simple, yes, and heavily accented but spoken in English all the same! She'd worked tirelessly with her new English tutors the months they'd been apart, translating various works, trying to converse! It was frustratingly difficult, each new word a maze for her tongue to try and weave its way around but never once did she relent.

That little phrase was the first thing she'd truly learnt!

The shock on his face made her giggle and he squeezed her hands, a deep laugh bursting from his throat. It was perhaps the most thrilling sound she'd heard.
"Am I hearing you correctly, my Lady? I believe you did just speak my own language!"

"I did, my Lord" She replied, much slower than he but he didn't appear to care, squeezing her hands before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I must admit, my sweet Lady wife....I've missed you" The whispered words in her own language caused her heart to stutter in her chest, so beautiful on his tongue, appearing so natural despite them being so unexpected. Missed her? He'd truly missed her? After one night of marriage? Some wouldn't think it possible but as she pondered on the words, she realised his feelings mirrored her own.

"Some may think it strange, my Lord but I do believe I've missed you too" However strange some would've thought it, it was the truth and Constance didn't believe God would be displeased with that.

༻᯽༺

"Comfo....comforte....comfor?"

Constance gently chewed on the end of her feather quill, brows furrowed in thought as she tried in earnest to speak the word written on the page before her. To her right, the evening fire crackled pleasantly, giving light to her work and warmth to her body, now wrapped in her nightgown and a deep blue velvet robe.

After greeting her husband, her Mother had sent her to rest, adamant too much excitement would upset the babe and she'd had no choice but to obey. For a while, she'd slept but as hues of purple and pink painted the evening sky the baby turned restless, waking her with little kicks.

So, she'd taken to the blazing hearth, thinking it a perfect time to study her English. That past morn, her tutor (an old little man with a greying beard) had given her a list of new words in his elegant hand, set out for her to translate and speak before their next lesson.

Contentment, harrowing and evangelical she'd managed so far but then the fourth word caused her to stumble.

Comfortable it said but she couldn't quite make it out, the word familiar yet the sounds strange. Confortable she was almost certain it translated to and indeed had written that in her own neat script but found herself unable to speak its English counterpart.

"Yes, yes I know, my love" She murmured when her child gave a small kick, smoothing a hand over it "Tis difficult...." The firm knock at her chamber door was almost a relief to her working mind and at last she lay down her quill, sighing "Enter"

The door swung open to reveal the unexpected figure of her husband and her eyes widened. She'd expected him to be dining with her family but perhaps her sisters longing looks and James' dagger speared stares had proven too much?

"No, please, wife" He told her gently when she made to rise "Please, rest" She did as he asked, expecting him to join her but all he did was linger in the doorway, shuffling from foot to foot as a nervous child might. Edward carded a hand through his hair and smiled, a shy little curve of the lips making her tilt her head.

"My Lord? Are you well? Perhaps you should...."

"No, no..." He murmured, finally stepping into the chamber, the glow of the fire dancing up his long legs "I am well, thank you, it is only....I wondered if I could...."
"If you could what, my Lord? Speak it and it shall be done"
His handsome smile widened at that and he stepped a little closer.

"I wished to ask if I could meet our child...."

Constance's heart leapt and she nodded eagerly, finally spurring her husband to move, kneeling at her feet. She realised that like this, he almost appeared a supplicant before her, eyes searching, asking as he looked up at her for guidance. Her. His wife. A woman.

"Here" She said softly "give me your hands" He instantly obeyed, offering his hands to her care and watching in wonder as she guided them to her belly, hoping above all else that the baby would kick for him. Their baby. His breath hitched as she settled his hands on her belly, exhaling shakily while his smile grew all the more.

"Oh God" He whispered, smoothing his hands across the swelling bump "He's truly in there, isn't he?" Their eyes met and Constance smiled, her own excitement sparking.

"Did you think I was teasing when I wrote to you? He is in there, Edward, our very own baby" He blinked, looking back down again.

"I swear before God and all on earth I shall protect you and him with all that I have" He whispered and her heart swelled beneath her nightgown, fizzing with newfound feeling at his tender words "Truly, I will, Connie"

"I know" She replied, about to ask after his journey when a little foot pressed out of her stomach and an unreserved cry of delight erupted from her husband's throat. Blue eyes gleamed with excitement, glistening in the firelight, the boyish joy she'd sensed in his letters materialising before her. 

"Could I....sit?" He asked, already pulling her gently from her seat and she nodded, allowing him to take her place before settling her on his lap. There was no awkwardness between them and instantly, his hands returned to her belly, brushing aside her robe to feel their child "You carry a future King of England, Connie, just think of that"

In truth she'd thought of little else! Her baby's future played on her mind more than her own, a constant realm of never ending questions swirling around her mind encrusted with splendour and a foreign crown. A crown Edward was meant to wear. Would it ever come to pass?

Ever since her marriage, she'd thought more on England's troubles for they were the troubles of her husband, her baby. If Edward failed, if his Father failed, the little baby nestled snugly inside her wasn't safe and that was a thought she couldn't bear. Through her pregnancy, she was allied to the House of York forevermore, automatically committed to removing an anointed King and his Queen, their own son, to secure her own.

It stung her tender heart, to think she could be the creator of another's misery but she knew her heart would hurt more if she lost the child inside of her and that was far more unbearable.

"Will it ever come to pass?" She asked, sliding her hands atop her husband's and a small chuckle passed his lips.

"Ah, my sweet wife, I hope that by this year's end my Father shall be seated on his throne, my Mother beside him" He trailed his fingers up to her jaw, gently sliding them across the smooth skin of her neck in thought "I shall be the Prince of Wales, you my Princess and our son, my heir. It is my hope we shall have many"

"God willing" She replied "My Mother bore six sons"

"Perhaps you shall bear seven?" He suggested eagerly "Or eight? Or nine or ten! But I suppose it depends on more then God" Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers, the beginnings of desire sparking within them "You gave me great pleasure on our wedding night"

The words brought a hot flush to her cheeks but she didn't look away, she held his gaze, a pleasant shiver running through her body as his fingers brushed across her soft lips.

"As did you, Ned" She admitted quietly "I didn't think it would be that way" Snaking around her jaw, his hand cupped her jaw, gently tilting it upwards.
"It always will be, I promise" He told her "what is the point of pleasure if we do not make use of it, hm? Besides, its well known a woman needs pleasure to conceive a son"

"Well then, I definitely carry a son" Constance teased, sighing happily as Edward bent his head and began to kiss her neck, making her eyes flutter shut "and hope I will carry many more for you"

༻᯽༺

Constance woke to a strong pair of arms wrapped around her, the steady beat of a youthful heart beneath her ear; resting on warm skin. They'd talked deep into the night, as long as the fire had wood to burn, although as the hours wore on, Edward became more preoccupied with her lips than her words.

She'd realised her husband was a man made for pleasure, one who was at apt at giving it as he was taking it but he'd not bedded her again that night, both fearing it would hinder her pregnancy. Instead, they sat cross-legged before the hearth like children and he'd asked after her, after her childhood and home.

It brought her more happiness than she could say to tell him of her Father, to speak her love for him aloud after so long! Edward listened attentively to every word and when it was his turn to answer her questions, she did the same.

His tales of a happy boyhood spent at Ludlow castle enthralled her, each word crafting a piece of the puzzle that eventually completed the picture of his world. He spoke of his Mother and Father, of his three little brothers and four sisters, especially Edmund who'd grown alongside him and seemed closer to his heart than any!

"One day soon, you will meet them all" He'd promised and while the prospect brought her much excitement, it also brought nerves. The respect he felt towards his parents was all too clear in the way he spoke, reverent and loving, eager to please! She wondered what they would think of her - a foreign girl not of their choosing who knew little of war or politics.

She hoped to please them, just as she hoped to please Edward! Perhaps her baby would do that if they proved to be the boy her husband named them?

Raising her head with a yawn, she looked down at her his sleeping form, golden hair spread across the pillow like a curled halo around his head. God had certainly arranged a handsome husband in his plan for her, that was for certain, she thought, brushing a hand along his cheek, feeling no hesitation to the gentle intimacy.

"Good morning to you too, sweet wife" He hummed, eyelids sleepily fluttering open to reveal two blue pools of amusement "I trust you are well? And our son?"
"Our son is well" She giggled, taking to playing with locks of his hair, liking the way the flaxen strands glided between her fingers "though rather restless"

"Ah but that is a sign he's a warrior, sweetheart" Edward returned, pushing himself up with a groan to settle Constance against his chest; hands eagerly settling on her belly "he shall be a warrior King, I can already tell!"
"And you, Ned?" She ventured, snuggling into him "Will you be a warrior King?"

He raised his eyebrows, silently considering her question. England was a land of war, that much was certain but, perhaps if his Father finally claimed the throne it could become one of peace? No, he shook his head, even when he managed to replace King Henry, the Lancastrian threat would drag on in his wife and son, a boy that would one day be a man.

Edward knew he'd never let his claim to the throne rest, just as he wouldn't.

"I believe so" He murmured "by choice and by fate. I must do what I can to defend our House and, one day, my throne"
"Our House?" She repeated, peering over her shoulder as that pretty blush he liked tinted her cheeks.

"Of course, sweetheart!" Laughing, he kissed the top of her head "You are now a York! Constance of York, Countess of March! Perhaps one day soon you shall see the city of York? After all, my return to you doesn't come without purpose" He smiled at her apparent confusion "I'm here to take you to England"

Her breath hitched in her throat and she settled back further against Edward's chest, staring at the covers covering them but feeling no surprise. She supposed she'd known this day would come and her husband's return was as good a time as any to fetch her. It meant she was to truly step into her new role, her new life, more than that, it meant Edward and the Nevilles had mustered enough men to return from their exile.

It meant war.

One hand slipped beneath the blankets, smoothing over her small bump and Edward dipped his head, this time choosing to softly kiss her neck.

"Don't fret, Connie" He murmured "I will protect you and, if I may say, I think you are perhaps bolder than you let on!" She blinked, letting her head fall back against his shoulder and stared at the embroidered canopy above. Edward was her husband, it was her duty to follow where he lead, to do as he commanded. If England was where he wished her to be then to England she would go.

"Constance of York" She murmured. A new name befitting a new life "I believe I like the sound of that, Ned!"

༻᯽༺

Rolling the cool, black beads of her emerald rosary between her fingers, Constance watched as the last of her life was packed away into heavy wooden coffers.

Gowns were folded, shoes placed in boxes, her remaining jewels locked in caskets and carried away. For the past three days servants had processed in and out of her chambers, slowly stripping it bare of her possessions until it was all but an empty marble shell of memories.

She'd passed her childhood in these rooms, she thought, gazing around at the bare walls, their tapestries taken. Many an hour she'd spent staring at the intricately woven silk, often sat in her Father's lap while he recounted their tales of chivalry and dragons, of handsome knights recusing fair maidens!

The next time those tales were unravelled, she would be across the sea, away from her family, away from all she'd ever known....

"How goes the great siege of coffers?" Edward asked as he strode into the room, the nickname he'd created for her packing efforts making her smile. He'd declared she owned so many possessions she was practically waging a war against all the chests the château contained, capturing them for her own use!

"All is well, my Lord" She replied and he took her hand, bestowing a kiss to her knuckles in greeting.
"And our son?" Her eyes dipped downwards to the front of her soft buttercup yellow gown, partially hidden by the fur trimming her cloak.

"As strong as ever, see for yourself, husband!" He didn't hesitate to accept her invitation, holding her waist with one hand while the other smoothed over her belly, jumping excitedly when a tiny foot pressed into his palm.

"He knows his Father already!" He exclaimed earning a small giggle from his wife as her hand covered his, her rosary wrapped around her fingers "Are you ready to leave, sweetheart?" She peered up at him, managing a nervous nod. She knew her duty.

"I am ready to follow where you lead, Ned"