~Allies~

March 1484, Burgundy....

"Thank you Aunt" Marie said as Margaret passed her a fresh goblet of wine before sitting opposite - they had dismissed the pageboys.

A great feast was laid for them in the Dowager Duchess' dining chamber (the very one Marie and her kin had dined in, thirteen years ago)but neither ate very much, they were too distracted, consumed by their plans for waging war, so much so that Marie had subconsciously carved a line at the edge of the table with her knife!

Between silver plates cleared to the side, were rolls and rolls of parchment; blotches of ink on the tablecloth.

It had proven a productive night thus far and neither were near ready to cease.

"We must land upon the Northern coast, that is a given" Marie said, grasping one of the golden chess pieces they'd rolled out and placing it upon the map of England between them "We could land in the South but it would be all too easy for the bastard to send a message to Middleham ordering my Mother and Uncle's deaths and I will not have that happen. I believe we should land the army on Silverdale beach in Lancashire. We could sail further inland up the River Kent and land there but I fear that places us in a perfect place of ambush should the enemy receive word of our movements. If anything of the sort should happen, we can seek refuge in Ireland. The land has always been a staunch supporter of my house, my Father always spoke highly of it" She looked up at her Aunt "What is your opinion?"

"You are the one that shall be leading" Margaret replied "It is your decision to make with Max's generals but they are not English as we are and I do believe you are beginning to form a rather brilliant plan, my dear" Marie felt a pleased flush colour her cheeks and she smiled her thanks before returning her gaze to the map.

"We shall then march across Lancashire and into the Yorkshire Dales, hopefully mustering men along the way to add to our army. We have the support of the House of Bourbon, well a few of its members" She murmured, looking over the small coats of arms that were scattered over the table surface.

"My Uncles, Cardinal Charles and Lord Peter have sworn revenge for my Mother and the slaying of dear Uncle Jamie - the Duke has steered clear as we suspected he would - and we have our Burgundian Force as well as Max and the Holy Roman Empire! The Prince of Orange, the husband of my Aunt, Joanna, has also declared for us but the more the merrier, Aunt, and my brother must have security as soon as he has the crown, he must have allies outside of England. We have you and if my little sister's marriage goes ahead, we shall have France, at least for a time, but he can be stronger still" She sighed, chewing her lower lip "I think Edward should be married"

Margaret sighed too, draining the contents of her goblet before she placed it down, leaning forward in her chair. She looked sad, but not surprised.

"I have been waiting for that declaration for many moons now and if you had not made it I would have. His hand is a valuable card to play even in these circumstances" Of course it was, he was the true blooded heir to England with the might of the Holy Roman Empire behind him! And he was a boy. Some might think he would be easy to mould but they did not know the strength of those who would be around him once he gained his crown; the woman who would be ruling in his stead.

"My brother is young, only thirteen but many of us are married at such an age and younger still!" Marie replied and her Aunt nodded, what she said was true. Why, Aliénor had been promised to France at less than six months old! It was the way of their world. Marriage was a transaction and there was much to be gained by both parties from it. Still, Marie could not help feeling a twinge of guilt, though her plans were for the benefit of Edward and all their kin.

"Whom did you have in mind?" She looked up from the papers at Margaret who arched an eyebrow "Oh come now, Marie! You are a very clever girl and I know you well! I know that you have already concocted a list of candidates and will have done your research thoroughly! Now I wish to hear it!"

"Well, I looked at many provinces and I first thought that Spain would make a good match, their Kingdoms are wealthy and powerful, assets which would boost my brother's security ten fold but then I began to look a little closer to home and fell upon Brittany"
"Brittany?"
"Brittany, Aunt, their coffers are full but not only lucrative by means of gold"
"No?"

"No. They hold the last of the house of Lancaster, Henry and Jasper Tudor, the former who is nephew to mad King Henry" Marie remembered her Father mentioning Henry Tudor only once and even then it was a throwaway comment. 'Tudor is a nobody worth no account or worry' He'd said and that was it and he may have been right, he was right but she'd rather take precautions than ignore them and pray they wouldn't take the weakness in England as opportunity to press Henry's claim that was possibly even weaker than Arthur's - which was a rare feat indeed!

"Duke Francis has been ill of late" She continued "but I propose we converse with his treasurer, Pierre Landais, who had taken the reins of government, and arrange for the Tudors to be handed to us as well as to support my brother with gold and men. The past months I have sent spies to Brittany and they have returned with word that the Tudors may pose a threat. If we hold them, we have only the Woodvilles to face and kill two birds with one stone by allying England with Brittany through marriage as well as promising to help defend them from the ever grasping French claws!"

Having both Tudors under lock and key while securing more support for Edward and an advantageous marriage was certainly a good prospect!

"A fine proposition" Margaret confirmed "though there are still many fine details to smooth out. It does mean you shall have strong allies directly across the channel, though we shall have to be careful not to put France's nose completely out of joint by allying ourselves with Brittany" It would certainly irritate them, France had desired the duchy for years.

"I have already begun to deal with that" Marie replied, drawing a letter from her sleeve and handing it over. Her Aunt's eyes widened at the seal and the name inside.

"From Queen Charlotte?"
"From Queen Charlotte" She replied with a nod "Still a great advocate for my Mother and brother, she calls her sister as you will see, and is already working on her husband to allow us to carry out our plans and support them along with the Bourbons, though she has not yet approached him with Brittany as we have not yet approached Brittany ourselves and I have not told her we may!"

"How old is Duke Francis' daughter?"
"He has two, Anne and Isabeau - a year apart from one another. Anne is the elder and is seven. A little younger than my brother but she will grow and it is mainly her assets we want here"
Margaret chuckled.

"That sounds rather cold!"
"This is politics, Aunt, you know that well"
"Indeed I do and you are proving very good at the game!"

"My Mother will care for the Lady Anne as if she were her own, we both know that, she herself was a girl married in war, and under her tutelage she shall grow into a fine Queen! She must be married before Edward and I set sail for England and when we win she must be sent to us straight away, a joint coronation would please the country very well!"

"Seven years old" Margaret sighed, plucking a candied grape from a nearby plate and popping it into her mouth "So young and yet here we are, planning her future as if she were nothing, just a little doll to move around" The hardened, sweet, skin crunched between her teeth.

"That is what we women are" Marie replied softly, more guilt filling her heart at the thought of the little girl they may take from her homeland, her family and place her in the unknown "It is our fate to be the pawns of those more powerful than ourselves and when we gain what power we can, it becomes our turn to make the moves of others. I will do my best to care for and comfort her" Her knife was beginning to carve up the table edge again as she stared at the papers in front of her "The marriage will not be consummated until she is at the very least fourteen and my Mother will likely postpone it longer, she is no destroyer of innocence, she will take her under her wing"

Margaret nodded. She knew not one woman that had married for love, but that did not mean love wouldn't grow. At the very least, a mutual respect would usually blossom even if affection never did.

"How goes your own marriage?" She asked and Marie's knife ceased its sawing. She laid it down and a soft smile curved her lips, the features of her pretty face relaxing, making her Aunt's heart warm.

"I think you know it is going well, that we are not moving as fast as a horse but I've found I do not mind that....he talks to me, he comes to my chambers to talk to me. No, not bed me!" She laughed, seeing her Aunt arch a suggestive eyebrow "He comes to talk to me, sometimes about the smallest things but they are things that I'm starting to cherish. I'm finally starting to know him and he is starting to know me too. He's even begun to bestow gifts upon me!"

She sat up in her seat, happily folding her hands in her lap with a growing smile "Did you know, I'm sure that you do, that last morn upon our walk" Their walks were becoming an almost daily occurrence "he bade me close my eyes and I did so. He guided me through the gardens and then bid me open them and when I did there was a little fruit tree before me, covered in the loveliest soft, pink blossoms and upon each branch, a beautiful necklace or bracelet hung! I do not believe I have ever seen such a delightful sight, Aunt Maggie!"

One of her hands reached up, fingers running along the stones of one of said necklaces - a beautiful gold piece encrusted with diamonds and rubies "He is so good with my brothers! Edward looks up to him and Max has taken him under his wing, I even saw them sparring a few days ago!" She sighed a little, the joy suddenly dissipating from her voice "But as lovely as it is it is not how things should be. It should be Uncle Dickon Neddy spars with, or my Father" Tears pricked her eyes, shining in the glowing candlelight and she found her lower lip trembled "I miss him" She whispered, chest heaving with a sob "I miss him so much, Aunt Maggie...."

Broken cries burst free from her lips; her hands covered her face as she leant forward, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, my dearest" Margaret was at her side in an instant, embracing her shaking figure, gently stroking her hair as she blinked back her own grief. Marie was usually so strong, so determined, the fire that fuelled her sibling's hopes but there were still moments, moments such as this, that she crumbled.

She too had lost a Father and wished to feel his embrace even just one last time, to hear his laugh. That she never got to say a proper goodbye weighed heavily on her.

And for all her strength, she was still only eighteen.

"I want him back" She sobbed, cradling the diamond ring on her finger he'd given her the night before Neddy's christening.

An intertwined E, C and M.

Edward.

Constance.

Marie.

The Earth now only knew two of the three.

The chamber door opened and John Neville walked in, freezing for a moment when he saw Marie.
"Marie? Marie what on earth is wrong?"
Pulling his handkerchief from his doublet, he knelt at her side and began dabbing at her cheeks, one hand cradling her face.

Margaret gently released her, going back to her chair and sitting down.
"She misses Ned, just as we all do"
"Oh Marie...."
She leant into his arms and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Marie sniffed.

"We have to get to England, Uncle John! We have to fight for my brother's crown!"
"I know, I yearn for our victory as you do and, in fact, that is exactly what I came to talk of"
She looked up, blinked.
"Then sit, Uncle" she said, sitting up herself and gesturing to the chair at the head of the table "I am eager to hear your words"

Clutching his handkerchief tightly in the palm of her hand, Marie watched him sit, trying to regain her calm facade of powerful composure.

"We have waited for nigh upon a year now" He said "and we all know why. Constance and Richard have been under lock and key; together ever since the Woodvilles broke sanctuary"
"And imprisoned my sisters and Lady Katherine in the Tower"

"Exactly. Now, the Scropes of Bolton Castle have long been loyal to my house and are also fiercely loyal to Dickon. They are mere miles from Middleham and have been sending me word of activity there for months now. Finally, we have a development. Constance and Richard have been seen outside the walls"

"Seen?" Marie exclaimed, leaning forward in her seat "Seen alive?"

"Alive" John confirmed and Margaret crossed herself, a small sigh of relief brushing past her lips, dispelling unspoken fears "They have been seen hawking with Richard Grey, finely dressed for their circumstances and not bound - they possessed their own horses and Constance her own Falcon! The guards were not close to them either!"

"They are playing their captivity to their advantage" Margaret murmured, a slight smile spreading across her face "None of Woodville blood is immune to flattery and they both are more than clever, they'll be slipping themselves fast into his 'affections' and convincing him their thoughts are his own"

"Precisely" John said "Now, the Scropes sent Condtance gifts of gowns and jewels for Christmas and she has been seen wearing them which means she can receive things. They plan to start communicating with her soon, either through loyal servants or secretive means that hide them. Once that begins, everything begins but we will have to be careful - one wrong step and the enemy know our every move, present and future"

Marie felt her heart quicken in her chest, fluttering about the cavity and threatening to jump from her mouth along with her shaking breaths. In mere months she could be writing to her mother, receiving letters from her Mother, seeing her beautiful handwriting that was almost identical to her own....

"Once we know my Mother and Uncle's position, we can begin to construct our own - plan our attack"
John nodded, Margaret smirked "I will compose a letter immediately, only a short one mind you. Send it with your next to the Scropes, John!"

"Not right away" He replied, placing a hand on her arm "The Scropes shall send one, one that is ambiguous, that, if caught, shall not compromise us or her!" Marie felt her heart sink but nodded all the same. Of course it would be wise to only send something small, something without meaning before they began to reveal their plans!

"Good....good...." She murmured, nodding and John smiled, the fingers on her arm squeezing gently.

"Ned would be so proud of you" He whispered and her eyes filled with tears again.

༻᯽༺

9th of April 1484, Middleham Castle, England....

Three hundred and sixty five days.

Twelve months.

One year.

That is how long she had now been without her Ned, her husband, her heart.

She remembered the night of his death as if it were yesterday, how the Archbishop had taken her aside, how she'd held his hand as the children said goodbye and felt him take his final breaths before he departed earth.

She was no longer sure of her faith but still found herself drawn to the chapel as soon as she was dressed and there she'd been knelt for the entire morn and afternoon, no drink nor food apart from the salt of her tears passing her lips. She did not want it, she only wanted Ned.

She let the cold silence of the chapel engulf her, staring up at the golden cross on the silk covered alter - statuesque - legs numb from how long she'd been kneeling. She didn't notice. She didn't notice anything, not how no one checked upon her or how the sun moved across the windows before finally dipping away, leaving her bathed in a golden glow mixed with multicoloured shards.

Her only thoughts were of Ned, of their memories, the good and the bad. And she cried. She cried enough to fill an ocean though she'd often thought her tears were spent. They would soon flood the entire earth!

She remembered their first glance, their first walk, the way dear Thomas Neville had slipped away and they had strolled through the wintery gardens of her home. She remembered how sweet he'd been on her wedding night, how quickly she'd grown to love him, how proud he'd been to show her London and braided her hair the morning they entered it, that he'd brought her an orange when she was pregnant with James and been so proud, so tender when he was born....

They were both dead now.

It seemed strange when she remembered how young they'd been, she just sixteen and he eighteen. They'd thought themselves so grown up, so knowledgeable of the world when in fact they were still children.

And how the following years had pained her, losing child after child, unable to give her beloved Edward an heir while Elizabeth swanned around court with Arthur. It had taken her leading an army up the country and rescuing Edward to stop that! God he was a fool when it came to his whore but Constance didn't blame him for that anymore, she blamed Elizabeth and her dark magic, the same magic she was sure had killed her babes!

Besides, if she did blame Edward, she would only resent him, hate him, and she couldn't do that, it would strip away what strength she had left.

What she would give that Elizabeth had never lived, that the Woodvilles had never tainted her life and her Edward. Without them they would've been so much happier, Warwick and George would have never rebelled, they likely wouldn't be dead. Oh Richard Neville, dear dear Richard, he had been her closest friend and ally for many years and Elizabeth had taken that too. He was, at the end, stupid and a traitor but it was by her actions that he turned to such things.

Had she not existed he may still have been by her side, Edward may still be alive to see their son grow into a man!

Her face fell into her hands, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Why did grief have to hurt so? Why did the pieces of her broken heart have to stab one another each and every day when she thought of Ned? Why did she have to love him so much, miss him so much? She wished more than anything she had something more than the locket with a sliver of his hair. Earlier she'd taken it out and cradled it in her hand; brushed it against her cheek, but it was not enough.

She wished for a doublet or cloak, something that his familiar scent would still cling to and she could wrap herself in as she'd done in the days after his death.

The only time she'd felt any form of the safety Edward used to give was when Dickon held her that night horrors had filled her dreams. That was the first night she slept easy in a long while, finally letting her mind rest.

Now, she felt merely the husk of a human, empty, numb.

Why couldn't Edward come back?

"My Lady?"

She turned sharply to see Martha standing behind her, head tilted, bending into a curtsy. How long she had been there, Constance didn't know nor care "My Lady, I was charged with delivering this into your hands" Her voice was quiet and her dark eyes darted around the chamber for a moment, checking the door before one worn hand dipped into the opposite sleeve and brought forth a small piece of parchment, closed with the small red seal of the Scropes.

Constance frowned at the paper, then at Martha, eyes narrowing into slits of suspicion.
"For me?" She asked and Martha nodded, looking around again, seemingly growing more worried the longer it was out in the open. After months of watching her, she doubted her attendant was a consummate actress and so reached out and took the parchment into her keeping "Thank you, you may go"

Martha curtsied again then scurried away, shoes pattering on the floor as she slipped from the chapel. Constance watched her, waiting until the door was closed before she turned forward again, wiping her cheeks on the cuff of her black gown.

Trying to steady her shaking hand, she snapped the seal and unfolded the paper, forcing herself to read.

Dear Madam,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and that the good Lord blesses you and the Lord Grey this fine year! I and my honourable family dearly hope you received the gifts we sent you with joy and that you are reading this by a warm fire to banish the cold of winter!

Yours humbly,

Lord Scrope of Bolton

It was a simple enough letter, prim and proper in a way that made her scoff but something prevented her hopes of Scrope loyalty being dashed. The way Martha had delivered it, secretly and nervously and the last line, the simple last line 'that you are reading this by a warm fire'  and the ample space beneath it.

It piqued her interest and she found herself trying to stand, falling with a painful thump as her numb legs refused to support her. Grunting, she wiggled them, impatiently waiting for the blood to flow back into them and when it did, she scrambled to her feet and rushed (as quickly that wouldn't arouse suspicion) from the chapel; returning to her room.

Neither Alice nor Martha were there, they would return in half an hour or so to change her for dinner (which she and Richard now took each night with Grey) and Constance knelt by the fire holding the letter near the flames. It was a silly idea but maybe just maybe.....

It was slow at first, then faster and faster, yellow-brown lines that slowly curled into letters which grew into words! Secret words!

She'd heard of a trick used to write hidden messages, orange juice upon the parchment that would appear when heated. It was so simple and yet it made her cry out with laughter that was quickly smothered by her hand; she looked to the door, eyes glinting before she turned back to her page.

We are with you, my Queen

It read

If you receive this, wear the blue gown that was sent at Christmastide when you next hawk. Then our plans shall commence and our true King shall seize his throne by this winter! Martha one of the many servants loyal to our cause (including your second attendant, Alice) at Middleham and she shall carry messages from you to Bolton Castle and we shall send them on to Burgundy where your sons, Duchess Margaret and the Princess Marie eagerly plan the invasion that shall crush the Woodvilles entirely.

Their replies shall be brought to you by Martha and other means.

You have our faith, my Queen, and our assurance that this treason inflicted upon England shall not be allowed to endure.

Burn all correspondence after reading.

Her soul sung, soaring to the highest heights of happiness as she read the message over and over! It was happening! It was finally happening! Her allies were still fighting for her! Her kin across the sea were safe and plotting their attack, her little love was strong and battling for her brothers! For her! For her Father!

Grinning widely, Constance looked up from the parchment, joyful tears spilling from her eyes in place of the grief filled once that had poured from them. Edward would be so proud of their daughter, of their sweet sons! Perhaps he was still with them all, perhaps he was, somehow, helping to right the wrong destroying his family?

She laughed, shaking her head.

She had to tell Richard!