~The Divine Art of Letters~

May 1484, Middleham Castle....

And so it began, she wore her blue gown when she next hawked and a secret organisation blossomed that saw letters sent across the country, over the sea and vice-versa! It took all Constance had to hide the new lease of life they gave her, the first time she'd seen her little love's handwriting, so similar to her own, she'd broken into tears and Richard joined her, an arm around her shoulders.

There quickly became a way for the letters to appear, a small, insignificant note (designed to look like a letter from one of the higher servants families to their kinsman or woman) in the centre and the real message in orange juice written above and below!

Martha quickly arranged for an orange to be brought with her breakfast, saying she liked to take it in her morning ale, and - often under the cover of darkness with a candle to light her way - Constance would hide it;  use the knife she'd swiped from dinner one night to slice it open and squeeze it into her inkwell.

She would pour the remains down the garderobe!

She would always give her letters to Martha but the letters from Marie and Margaret started to appear around almost every corner! One surfaced under a slice of cold ham at breakfast, one in her saddle bag when she went riding, another appeared in her pillowcase when the sheets had been changed, a soft crunch beneath her head altering her to its blessed presence!

Once a serving girl had knocked into her in the hallway on the way to chapel, spilling the blankets she carried and when Constance bent down to help her collect them, she had slipped a letter into her hand! Constance hid it in her Bible!

She learned that her daughters had been moved to the royal apartments in the Tower, that they appeared to no longer be threatened by Arthur! Mayhap not Arthur, Constance thought, when she received the letter from Marie bearing news of her sisters, but Elizabeth - she would never ever put anything past the Witch.

She was also asked for advice on her eldest son's nuptials. Little Edward, her sweet boy, married! It was a strange thought, he was her baby, her son and yet he was to take a wife? Well, it had not exactly been his decision, it was being orchestrated by his sister, his Aunt, and now his Mother!

It had to be done, she conceded when her heart cried for him to remain a child forevermore. After all, many royal children were betrothed and married at his age, just as Marie said in one of her letters. She'd raised a clever daughter, that was clear, and wholeheartedly agreed with the plan to ally Edward with Brittany, though she could see how it would anger France.

It was a great comfort to find Queen Charlotte was already intervening on that front! And she was not the only one in France who was on her side.

Her heart leapt when she was told her blood brothers, Charles and Peter, had declared for her, just as Charles promised they would when they met in France, along with Joanna's husband! Their sister Margaret was dead - she'd died a mere two weeks after Edward - and Constance never expected support from John and so she was filled with joy!

It seemed there were still some on earth that stayed loyal to their honour.

Seeing Marie and Margaret's words gave her true hope for the future of her children, the future of England, particularly when her sweet sons wrote little notes to her at the end of the letters.

Edward swore that he would rescue her, his sisters, and vanquish their enemies.

Richard told her he missed her and would ride by Edward's side.

Charlie drew little hearts and even appeared to have dipped his entire hand in orange juice once to leave an imprint of it on the page. A gift for his Mama.

Their familiar handwriting (and drawings) reminded her that they were real, that they were not a figment of her tortured mind but existed, lived,waiting for their time to come just as she was. It was more difficult to burn those letters and she would always kiss them before giving them to the deadly embrace of her hearth's flames.

She'd handed one over that very evening and sat in the dim candlelight of her chamber, a piece of parchment resting atop a book balanced on her raised knees beneath the bed covers and two ink wells, one orange-filled, the other black ink, on the cabinet at the bedside.

The soft tip of her feather quill brushed the edge of her chin as she thought, looking down at the page with only its small, insignificant, note in the centre.

The click of the servants door alerted her and she looked up, though not in alarm, a soft smile appearing on her lips at the expected figure of Richard in the doorway, a heavy robe atop his nightshirt.

"May I come in?"
"You know you need not ask" She whispered back. Ever since the letters began to arrive it became commonplace that Richard would sneak into her chamber at night, anxious to hear anymore news and be in her company, just as she was eager to be in his.

Sometimes he would go after an hour or two, more often than not he would stay and they would end up falling asleep, her head tucked into his shoulder, his arm around her waist until the first rays of dawn woke them. They never closed the bed curtains nor the window shutters, that way they never missed the rising sun and there was a lesser chance of being caught!

Smiling in return, Richard quietly slipped into the room and shut the door behind him, tiptoeing over to the bed; climbing in beside her.

"We are to go hunting tomorrow" He said, watching her. His voice was no louder than a breath of wind, it never was and nor was hers.
"I know" She replied, still looking at her letter "He told me this evening at dinner"

"Why did you not tell me when we danced? It would not have aroused suspicion, Grey likes it when you speak of the excursions he gifts us"
The tip of her quill brushed her lips.
"It slipped my mind"

In truth it had, because she had been having so much fun, been so utterly captivated by the music, by him. The way his hand curled around hers, the way he moved from foot to foot as she moved around him, their eyes never parting.

It had stirred the beginnings of certain feelings inside of her, feelings she refused to name and tried most ardently to ignore.

They made her feel ashamed.
A traitor.
To Edward.

Even then she did not look at Richard. He was so close, far closer than he had been at the door. Still, she had invited him in, she had invited him closer....

He glanced at her almost blank page.
"Marie or Maggie?"
"Maggie" She replied "And Charlie, my sweet little cherub"
"I'll take it that nickname is for him and not for me"

A grin spread across her lips and she shook her head.

"Do you know if we shall be given weapons?"
"Apparently so" He told her, fingers itching at the thought of holding a bow again "I'll have to restrain myself from shooting an arrow into his eye"
"You most certainly will!" She chuckled "I will not be defeated because you pushed our enemies into hell too quickly! Honestly I'll be surprised if he can mount his horse on the morrow he drank so much at dinner!"

"Yes he was rather merry, wasn't he?"
"Merry?" She replied, finally looking at him with a smile "He was prancing about like a deranged bear!"

"Well" Richard said, shuffling down onto his back, resting his head on the pillows. That meant he was to stay and Constance felt her heart jump happily - she quickly quashed the feeling "While you write, I shall stare at the canopy and dream of the morrow. What shall you say to my dear sister?"

"Well I shall certainly tell her that we are to hunt, though the Scropes may tell her too, they have eyes everywhere when we are beyond the walls, and inside them too! As do we. I think we are gaining more supporters here, Richard, twice this week I've had servants bow to me and call me Queen where they have not before!" Richard nodded.

"My men seem to be wheedling their way back into Middleham's service!" He said, thinking of the three stable lads that he'd seen tending to his horse the week prior and the pageboys who'd served him wine at dinner. They'd been dismissed the year before but somehow had made it back. How they'd managed it, he didn't quite know but knew Grey's men certainly weren't as vigilant as he boasted they were!

But then again, not many remembered the faces of servants who were not in their own household. All they need do was give a different name or mayhap they hadn't even had to do that! Woodville support was low throughout the land, they were likely taking any that offered service without a second thought - not that they were capable of such things as careful consideration.

"It is not difficult for them to keep to the shadows, unnoticed, but it seems they are growing by the month!"

Constance hummed in acknowledgement, her quill now scratching across the parchment before her, painting invisible lines soon to be revealed in the hands of their kin.

Richard watched her at her work, eyes travelling across the dark brown curls that tumbled loosely down her back. They were becoming a familiar sight and, without thinking, he reached out and took one between two fingers.

She stopped writing.

"I can feel that"
He smiled. He felt so comfortable in her presence, so relaxed lying beside her, watching her while she helped orchestrate their victory. She was so clever, he thought, so wise, so beautiful. A true Queen. She would always be his Queen, even when his nephew took a wife.
"My hair is beginning to grey, yours is not" He murmured.

"I'm as surprised as you are" She said, looking down at him and, after a moment of slight hesitation, set her book and parchment aside and shuffled down beside him, brushing a finger along his hair until she found a few strands of grey "I should've been grey many many years ago.....I hope the girls aren't....they must be so scared...." Her eyes drifted from his but a mere moment later, a gentle finger tilted up her chin so they met again.

"You read the news Marie sent us, that her sisters are in the royal apartments and seem to have been left alone"

"Seem to be!" Constance whispered "it provided me a little comfort but what if her sources are wrong? You can torture a man in the finest rooms and elicit the same pain as you can in a dungeon! And what of Katherine? There has been no news of her at all and while I would not put Elizabeth above torturing my girls, she's far more likely to harm Kate first! Perhaps even in front of them!"

Tears had filled her eyes by then, blurring her vision as her fears rose. Kate, sweet, loyal Kate, she did not deserve to be in pain!

"To what end?" Richard asked but she shook her head.

"You know as well as I they need not have a reason, Dickon! Purely to instil fear is a rout I can see them, her, taking! Perhaps she thinks I had more plans and Katherine knows them! Or my girls! Oh, I can't bear it, Richard!" The tears spilled down her face and immediately his arms were around her, holding her quacking body against his chest while she cried, one hand stroking her hair.

"Kate is strong" He told her "Just as Will was! And the people of London adore my nieces! If word emerged they were being harmed the entire city, nay, the entire country would rise up and besides, Marie's spies would know if it were so! Why not enquire after Katherine in this letter? All may not be as bad as you fear, Connie"

But what if it was, she thought, what if it was even worse?

"You shall have them in your arms soon" Richard continued, as if able to read her thoughts. In all honesty it seems they could always read one another now, communicate thoughts and feelings without having to utter a syllable. It was nice, providing a feeling of closeness, another secret binding them together.

She inhaled his familiar scent as her sobs subsided. It was so comforting, so safe. She found herself snuggling into him. 'Forgive me, Ned'

She guessed his thinking was much the same.

༻᯽༺

Westminster Palace, London....

Marriage. It was a subject Arthur had been pestered with by advisors and kin alike even before he took the throne and yet, as he sat at his Father's desk in his grand reception chamber, a letter from the court of France open in front of him, his enthusiasm dwindled even more.

They'd refused.

A proposal had been sent that he marry a niece of Louis XI and they'd refused!

Much of the letter was cold enough but there was one line that his eyes could not draw themselves away from, trapping them upon the page. One line that he was sure would drive him mad.

'Why should our great nation ally ourselves with one who does not even know who its King is?'

It was burned into his mind, into his soul, as was their numerous jabs at his questionable blood. They never explicitly supported his half brother but it was not difficult to see they would rather have Edward ascend the throne than him sit upon it. France hated England, but they hated him more.

The letter did not even address him as King, merely Lord Salisbury. He hadn't showed his Mother yet, though a few of the nobles knew, the only person he had with him was his little brother.

Looking up, his gaze locked on the thirteen year old boy sat in the window seat at the opposite side of the room, head resting on the wall behind, one knee bent up near his chest, the other dangling off the edge, foot absentmindedly brushing back and forth across the floor.

His flaxen hair, identical to his older brother's, shone in the sunlight and he toyed with the heavy rings on his hands. They looked out of place just as Arthur felt the crown looked on his head.

"Has Mother tried to marry you off yet?"
Anthony looked up, rolling his eyes.
"I know you've tried to orchestrate a marriage for yourself with France and judging by the look on your face and your stony silence, that letter is from the French and they have refused"

"They have"
"Hm. I'm sorry, brother, does Mother know?"
"No. But any minute now she will storm through that door cursing every Frenchman on the Earth"
"If she hasn't already" Arthur sighed "Come here, have a look"

Anthony did as he was bade and hopped from his seat, strolling over to the desk and taking the letter in his hands. He was tall for his age, just like their Father had been. His eyes flicked up from the pages.

"They do not call you King, brother"
Arthur arched an eyebrow.
"They do not"
"Then the French are no loss! Why should you ally yourself with a nation that does not recognise your sovereignty? Your power?"

He smiled, his brother was still filled with innocence, with the easy trust and straight-forward thoughts of youth. He did not yet understand the power France held and how important they were to Arthur's reign. In fact, he was probably the only person on earth who believed wholeheartedly in his brother's claim to the throne: his Kingship.

"Arthur?" They both turned as their Mother swept through the chamber door like an icy gust of wind, in her usual bejewelled splendour but her face was creased with anger "Is it true, Arthur?" She demanded, door slamming behind her "France have refused us?"

"They have refused me, Mother" He replied as she came to stand by his desk; took Anthony in her arms. He returned her embrace immediately.
"And in doing so have slighted your kin" She said, stroking his hair "Leave us, Anthony, return to your chambers"

"Yes Mother" He looked at Arthur, bowing low, his brother forced a small smile "Brother" And away he went, leaving Elizabeth to turn to her eldest.

"What do you intend to do?"
"What can I do?" He sighed "We shall have to look for another alliance. The Portuguese shall likely refuse, the Scottish certainly will and the Spanish shall simply laugh at us"
"And why would they do that?"

"Because they do not view me as a King!" He snapped sharply, the hand he rested on the desk curling into a fist "You know it, I know it. They view me as a usurper. As a pretender. A bastard"
"But you are not....."
"Aren't I?" He cried, standing, staring deep into his Mother's eyes for the truth he knew she would never give "Or is my claim based on a lie? A lie you told? A lie that has plunged my Father's land into hell...."

"Do not forget yourself!" Elizabeth yelled angrily, defiant in the face of accusation "Remember what I did for you! Remember what I gave you! You wanted the throne and I gave it to you!"

"No!" Arthur cried, walking to face her "No!" She always did this, always declared her desires were his own, convinced him for many years they were, so much so he had believed it!

"I wanted whatever you impressed upon me to want! I cannot remember a time where you did not tell me the throne was mine, I cannot remember words of love you have spoken to me or Anthony without strings of ambition attached!" He shook his head, his voice softening a little "Do you even view us as you sons?" He asked "Or are we merely extensions of you? Extra limbs you can utilise to achieve what you desire? Do you love us? Do you truly love me?"

Elizabeth's lips opened in silence and she reached for him but he stepped back, pushing her hands away.

"Of course I do! You are my son!" She told him "The sweet boy that grew within my womb! When I first held you, I've never felt so much love than I did in that moment!"

"And how much was that, pray tell?" He snapped "For this past year, I've come to realise you are not capable of love, Mother"

Her sharp intake of breath filled the air and then - silence between Mother and son, their eyes locked.

So it was true, he thought, he was a bastard. He held no claim, no right to the throne upon which he sat and yet, there was naught he could do but keep it, fight until the bitter end. Any other option would mean death for his family, he knew that, there were many out for his blood and even if he relinquished the throne willingly, no mercy would be given. Too much damage, too much grief and pain had been caused by his family's actions for such a luxury to be on the cards.

He thought of Anthony, his little brother, a boy. He couldn't see him harmed, nor his Mother. Despite his growing resentment of her, he could not see her torn apart in the vengeance Constance and her kin were sure to take. Why wouldn't they? He would.

He'd felt powerful at his coronation, powerful ascending the throne, sitting upon it, but when his hastily made crown touched his head and he was declared King - it began to drain and had been draining ever since, so much so he felt weak.

What was there to do now but fight for his kin when he knew he would not fight for himself? Or perhaps he would, if it came to it for he feared death, he feared the fires of hell he was becoming surer by the day would engulf him for all eternity. He would deserve them, he did not deny that, but he feared them all the same. He wasn't sure his Mother did.

Elizabeth tilted her chin up, pressed her lips into a thin line.

"What about the girls in the Tower?" She clasped her hands together "Something must be done with them"

Gritting his teeth, Arthur returned to his seat, fixing her with a stern glare.
"I think it best they are returned to their Mother"

"What?" She cried - incredulous "Arthur, they our one of the greatest cards we have to play! With Constance's children in our grasp, there is no chance she shall make moves against us for fear we would harm them!"

"If they were her only children then I would be inclined to agree with you but they are not" He replied with cool authority "She has three sons. Three living sons in Burgundy. One of them is worth more than all three girls put together for us and we have none. While they roam free, we have little to no advantage over Constance and you know I will not harm my sisters. They are young, they know none of their Mother's plans and I believe they should be returned to her. Perhaps it may ensure that she does not move against us? And besides" He tilted his head "my half brother has Middleham in order, does he not?"

"Indeed he does, he...."
"Exactly" He interrupted, waving a dismissive hand "I shall have the girls sent to their Mother, they are of no further use to us"
"And what of the Lady Katherine?"

Lady Katherine. Poor Lady Katherine. She had endured so much pain during the first months of imprisonment and for what? She did not utter one word against Constance and endured hell because of it. Because of her loyalty. No more he decided.

"She is more dangerous. We will keep her in the Tower but leave her be, Mother, I will not have her dealt any further injury"

༻᯽༺

Laarne Castle, Burgundy....

Marie looked up from her letter as Margaret entered the chamber, nodding in greeting,

"From Duke Francis?"
"From Duke Francis!" She confirmed, brandishing the letter in her hand "He has agreed to the marriage! We are to have an alliance with Brittany!"

It was all beginning to fall into place! At last! There was only one potential downside "The Tudors have escaped" She said and Margaret sighed "But they are alone and have nowhere to garner support as I have had a second letter!" Reaching into her sleeve, she pulled it forth; handed it to her Aunt "From Queen Charlotte! She has convinced her husband to not support the Tudors should they turn up while allowing his people to send aid to us!"

"And does he know about the alliance with Brittany?"

"Yes, Charlotte seems to have settled that matter somewhat!" She said "He has given the Woodvilles permission to raid France prisons for men which, while it gives them a few more in numbers, they shall make a true heathen lot, almost useless upon the battlefield, hardly any shall speak English and they have nothing to fight for! They are not loyal to my half-brother! It is likely many shall flee at the first chance! Louis has forbade them any more support than that! Additionally, if we win, the marriage of his son to my sister shall go ahead, meaning the English alliance with France shall stand and he will not have to drain his coffers defending his lands from my brother. That has pacified him somewhat Charlotte says"

She grinned "It is beginning to come together, Aunt, our time is growing nearer by the hour"