~Bloodlines~

30th of June 1484, Westminster Palace....

After his squires had dressed him, diligently attempting to every leather buckle and the placing of each polished piece of metal, Arthur waved them away, wishing to inspect his armour without the scrutiny of others.

It would make him feel a little less of a fraud for he knew what they would think as he examined his image before the full-length bedchamber mirror: pretender, traitor, imposter.

It did not help his armour was gold.

That had been his Mother's choice.

A stunning piece of craftsmanship it possessed suns in splendour and roses upon the pauldrons, all the emblems his Father had held alongside a few Woodville ones; English lions.

He did not feel like a lion.
He felt like a sheep.

Turning from side to side, he inspected every inch and looked to the small stool by the mirror upon which was placed a golden helmet - a golden crown melded atop it. Reaching forward, he picked it up, studying the piece.

In a few weeks he would mount his war horse, armoured as he was, and ride forth from London with 'his' men to fight his half brother. Would Edward fight, he wondered, it was entirely possible. From reports he'd heard, despite his half brother's youth, he was a fine swordsman, already almost standing at the height of their Father.

Arthur was tall but he'd lost almost all of the youthful glow that had once graced his face. He'd grown pale those last months and his eyes had become darkened by the ashy circles under them, sunken into his skull. He looked ill. Defeated.

He no longer looked nineteen.

If Edward had inherited their Father's personality as well as his looks and skill, then he would certainly wish to fight, Arthur thought, would wish to fight him. Even if he did not, his Uncle of Gloucester would certainly take to the field and no doubt hunt him down along with the many men - nobles - he heard were flocking to his half brother's banner each day in the North.

He did not know the exact number of men Edward had mustered, he did however know that his Uncle Anthony was working to secure five thousand men from French prisons.

They would be no warriors but they would improve his own numbers.

Sighing, he looked up at his own reflection once more, then what was behind it. He never felt alone in the King's chambers, not completely. It was always as if he was being watched by the ghosts of the men who came before him, the ghosts of Kings watching, nay, glaring at his every move, his every breath. They knew he wasn't supposed to be there, he knew he wasn't supposed to be there.

The ghost he feared most of all was that of his Father.

They needn't worry, he thought, he likely wouldn't be there for much longer. The stain that was his life would be removed.

"You look very fine, brother, the true image of a King!" He turned with a start to see his little brother walking toward him, dressed in a cloth of silver doublet, angelic golden curls framing his face "When you return" Anthony continued, arriving by his side and plucking the helmet from his hands "all will be forced to recognise your rule!"

Arthur tried to smile.
His little brother was the only person upon the earth who truly believed in his rule without his own ambitions fulling his loyalty.

He nodded.
"I think I shall never return"
Anthony frowned.
"Why?"
Arthur sighed, reaching to try and unbuckle his armour.

"Many reasons, brother" He grunted in annoyance when his efforts could not budge the metal plates and flopped down into a nearby chair with a defeated clank "Least of all that the people love Edward, despise me and...." He looked up to see Anthony's frown had deepened, made melancholic by the sadness in his eyes. Arthur sighed again, nodding to a second chair next to his "Come here" He did not wish to cause his brother sorrow, but not would he lie to him as their Mother did, he deserved better than that.

He turned to the boy beside him as he sat "Lad, if I do not return you must be brave. However, bravery does not always come in the form of raising a sword to fight but laying it down and accepting your new circumstances. This is what you must do"

Anthony's eyes went wide.
"You are saying you may lose!" He exclaimed after a moment "No, you will not! You will win!"
"You must submit to our half brother and his Mother, you must do as they say and not fight"
He gave a vehement shake of his head, clearly incredulous.

"Submit to the enemy?" He cried and it was Arthur's turn to shake his head, forcing a small smile onto his lips, that was meant to be reassuring, and reaching out to take his brother's hand.

"Edward had never been our enemy, nor has Queen Constance" He told him "They, she, have only ever been the enemies of our Mother and she has made us into the weapons with which to fight her foes"
"You cannot die!" Anthony yelled, dragging his hand from his brother's grip, tears pooling in his eyes "You are God's King!"

"You must not fight them!" Arthur continued, tears of his own appearing. He couldn't bear to see his brother in such a way, his words the knife that was being driven into his heart, the hands that dropped and shattered his world, but it had to be done for his own sake "Nor must you take up arms against them when you are grown! Swear to me that you will not!"
"But...."
"Swear to me!"
"No!"

Arthur hissed a sigh, shaking his head again as he stood, pacing before his brother's chair.
"I am not God's King!" He cried, turning to face him "Our half brother is! All Mother has told us, all she has infected our minds with since the day we first drew breath has been a lie! It has all been a lie!"

"What do you mean?" Anthony demanded, his words a strangled sob, caught in pain "We are Father's true sons! His heirs! He loved us!"

"We are not!" Arthur yelled and tears broke free down his brother's cheeks, lower lip trembling "We never have been! We have been played like puppets you and I and soon our strings will be cut!"
"Mother would not lie! She would not...."
"She would! She has!"
"If you truly believe so then why must you fight? Why not return the crown peacefully to Edward?"

Ah, Anthony, Arthur thought, drawing in a sharp breath, sweet, naive Anthony. There was not one bad bone in the boy's body. Walking forward, he went onto one knee before his brother's chair and took his hand again, using his free one to wipe away the tears staining his young cheeks.

"Because I refuse to die a traitor's death" He told him softly "If they win, I will die. There is no peace to be had with Edward that does not end in our bloodline being scotched from England! At the very least mine will be forfeit, and likely Mother's, our Aunts and Uncles too!" He shook his head "We have gone too far! Too much has been said and done for any Woodville life to be spared. But you? You are fast approaching manhood but have committed no acts of treason, done naught on my behalf or our Mother's! You may be spared"

It was his dearest wish, his last wish to secure his brother's life. Anthony did not deserve death, a cold execution under the shadow of the name traitor. Anthony was not that "You must submit to them! I will fight on the field upon which Edward and I are to meet and I will fight with all my strength and courage, every ounce of my stamina. I will fight for you, Anthony, and if I am to die I will die with what honour I have, at the head of my men; a sword in my hand"

"What if you win?" Anthony whispered and Arthur smiled, reaching up and cradling his little brother's face. Even after all those words of doubt he still spoke of victory.

"Then all will be well with us for a time. But I feel my life dwindling and I am almost certain it shall soon end" Anthony's face crumpled again "I must have your word you will not fight Edward nor his blood, that you shall forge a life for yourself with peace, not bitter war"

"A life without you...."

"A life which you shall live!" Arthur said fiercely, feeling tears slide down his cheeks at his brother's broken voice. How much he wished he could reassure him, tell him all would be well so his smile returned and he could walk with the ease he never again would. Not after that day. It was a walk of innocence and Arthur was burning that, snapping his bones one by one to forever alter his gait, however unwillingly he wanted to.

"Queen Constance is not a cruel woman, she shall not see you racked! You may be kept a prisoner for a time but I believe you shall be allowed to live, perhaps even become a valued member of the King's household! You are still of our Father's blood. You must transfer the love you bear toward me to Edward. You must show your loyalty and mean it, keep it. I bear no ill will toward him, toward any of his kin! Were we given the chance to, I believe we would love them very well!"

Anthony shook his head.
"I cannot...."
"You can!" Arthur encouraged, standing "For me! Do it for me, Anthony! Swear to me!" He jerked Anthony to his feet by his arm "Swear it!" The younger boy blinked, startled by such suddenness and blurted out what his brother demanded.
"I swear it!"

A deaf man could hear his insincerity!

Arthur sighed and strode to the nearby fireplace, leaning against the mantle for a moment before he looked back at his brother. There was only one way to go about this, he decided.

"Come here" He said, voice quiet and calm "We must seal this pact. Bring a Bible to me" It was all too clear Anthony was hesitant to obey but even in that moment he would not deny his beloved elder brother, the man he thought his true King, and so rose from his seat and did as he was bade, bringing a cloth of gold bound book before him. Arthur took the heavy scripture.

"Place your hand upon it and swear to me that you shall do as I ask, that you shall not seek vengeance against our half brother and his kin for as long as you breathe nor insight any others to"
Again, Anthony hesitated, peering up at him with uncertain eyes.

"Must I?" He asked quietly. Arthur nodded.
"You must. You must swear in the sight of God you will do this. For me. I beg of you"

Swallowing, averting his gaze, Anthony finally gave a nod of his own and slowly placed his hand upon the Bible held out to him, flexing his fingers upon the cover. Sucking in a sharp breath, he nodded again and looked up to meet his brother's eyes once more.

"I, Anthony Plantagenet, son of the late King Edward the fourth and Elizabeth Woodville, do swear before God and to you, my one true brother, that if it be the Lord's will that you lose this coming battle and your life be lost then...." His words died for a moment and he stared at his brother, a silent plea for a reprieve from his torture, but it was not given "then I shall submit myself unto our half brother and his kin as I would to you, obey them as I would obey you, swear my fealty to them as I have to you" He stopped. Arthur arched an eyebrow.

"And?" He prompted.
"And keep it"
"Until?"
"Until God sees fit to take me" As soon as it was done, Anthony snatched his hand from the Bible, holding it in his other as if the book had burned him "But I shall pray for your victory" He added.

"And for my soul" Arthur replied, tossing the book aside before placing his hands upon his little brother's shoulders "Thank you for swearing this oath. You have given my mind a much needed drop of peace"

Another tear slid down Anthony's cheek and Arthur knew his innocence was ashes.

༻᯽༺

3rd of July, 1484, Middleham Castle, North Yorkshire....

"You should join your sisters" Constance said, looking across at Isabella. They sat opposite one another in the window seat of her bedchamber, looking down into the inner bailey where Aliénor and Cecily were wobbling about together, giggling, small stilts strapped to their legs.

Richard had made them and Isabella had a pair but she was not partaking in her sister's fun. She never truly did, when she played it was only to indulge them.

"I am too old for such things, ma mére" She replied and Constance chuckled, stroking a hand over her dark hair which was partially pulled back with a blue ribbon. If she thought herself so grown up, she would be donning a headdress of some sort to cover it, she thought, but that didn't mean she did not feel obligated to act as a woman grown, at least when it came to her sisters.

"You no longer need to Mother them, my love" Constance said softly as Isabella leant her head on the frame of the window she'd opened, not only to relieve them of the summer heat but to be able to hear each and every sound her sister's made; ensure they were not hurt "That is what I am here for. As I shall Mother you. Your twelfth year has only just begun and while the years of womanhood are approaching you, I do not wish for you to hasten them when there is no need!"

Isabella's blank expression remained unchanged.
"I only wish to protect them"

"As do I" Constance replied with a small smile, fingers stroking across her daughter's cheek "And I shall. The burden that was thrust upon you in....that place" She was sure Isabella flinched at that and her heart hurt for it "has been removed. Of course you seek to protect them, they are your sisters, your blood, but you need not watch over them as I do. Not any longer! You should be having fun as they do, as you did at the feast after this castle was reclaimed and you danced with Henry Scrope!"

Just as it had that night, a scarlet blush blossomed upon the young girl's cheeks and she hastily looked at her skirts. Her Mother smiled. There was her little girl, she thought "See!" She enthused "That it what you should be focusing your thoughts upon! The pastimes of a Princess - admiring young gallants and choosing new dresses and taking joy in jewels and flowers! Not this life in which you observe from the shadows, your nerves always on edge!"

"It is better that way!" Isabella suddenly cried and brushed her Mother's hand from where it had come to rest upon hers, making her smile fall. She looked up "We have not yet won, Mother, which means we are not yet safe. The usurper still breathes, still sits upon my brother's throne, which means we are not safe" She gave a shake of her head and as her eyes caught the light, the tears within both great green pools glistened.

"Until the time in which we are I cannot shirk my duty, even then I shall not! I have learned this past year that even when you believe you are safe and utterly secure, you are not, not when you occupy our station. Even with my brother upon the throne we will never be truly safe! There shall always be some accursed soul seeking our ill fortune" She lowered her voice and her next words almost came out in a hiss "Look what Uncle George did to Papa! What I have heard Lord Warwick did to him!"

"Do not speak of such things!" Constance found herself cry, unable to bear not only thought of those men, but that Isabella thought her own brothers could one day betray their Edward as George had betrayed their Father, as Warwick had betrayed her. No. It would not be borne in thought nor word "Your brothers would never do such a thing, Issy! Never! Little Charlie is not George! Richard is no Lord Warwick!" Her chest heaved as a sudden sob threatening to overcome her.

Her little girl having such thoughts tore her soul in two! She was but twelve! No little girl should have such suspicions, such fears! Particularly of her own kin! "I will ensure it, my love, I swear to you!"

Isabella shook her head again.
Her lower lip trembled.

"I do not suspect my brothers! I love them deeply and seek to protect them as I do Ally and Cis but we are never safe, Mother. There will always be those who wish for us to fall, even the ones we think love us the most, and therefore I must keep my vigil. I can never take up the relaxed position you wish for me! I am not a child, Mama! I must do what I must to protect our family. Just as you do....." She sucked in a sharp breath as her declaration faded to silence "Excuse me, I wish to read outside"

With one final look, trying to blink her tears away, Isabella rose and all but fled from the room, ignoring her Mother's pleas to return and while Constance rose after her, she knew she would not catch Isabella when she did not want to be caught. Her daughter wanted peace after her declaration and she would be given that. She would go to her later and wrap her in her arms and refuse to let go.

Her girl....her sweet girl.

Pulling the handkerchief she kept from her right sleeve, she dabbed at her cheeks, covering her mouth with the white linen as a small sob broke from her lips, then another and another until she was forced to sit upon the widow seat once more and wept bitterly into her hands.

"Issy..." She whispered after a minute or two, looking to the stone above her head to try and force her tears to cease. She would protect her girls. She would!

Sniffing, she dabbed at her face again, her handkerchief sodden in places from where her tears fell. She would have to replace it, she thought and pushed herself to her feet, walking to her dressing table and sitting upon the velvet stool. Placing her wet handkerchief upon its polished surface, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, blinking.

The redness in her eyes would settle by the time her daughters returned indoors, she thought. She did not wish for them to see her sad, that would only unsettle them and there was to be enough uncertainty in the coming months.

Sliding open the middle draw under the table's surface, she retrieved a new handkerchief from the many that lay neatly folded within, decorated with bags of dried lavender to keep them smelling sweet. Cis liked opening that particular draw just for the scent. It was one of her favourites and she slept with her own lavender bag by her pillow.

It helped ease her mind.

Inhaling the comforting scent of the handkerchief, she tucked it into her sleeve and looking at her reflection once more, taking a slow, steady breath to ease the beating of her heart.

"Connie? Connie, you must come!"

Her gaze broke away from the mirror at the sound of Richard's voice and she looked to the chamber door as he rushed in with a beaming smile.
"Richard" She greeted in a sigh of relief. He was just what she needed at that moment but he was in no mood for conversation, she could tell. No embraces or tender kisses then, she thought "What is it?"

"He is here!" He breathed and her heart instantly raced once more "He is here, Con!"
Almost jumping from the stool, she looked at him with wide eyes.

He....
There was only one person who that he could be and he far supposed the loving embraces she'd wished for moments earlier!

"My son? She asked quickly "My son is here?"
His nod almost made her faint.
"His army has just been sighted from the western walls! Marie is with him too! And your brothers!"

Over a year she had waited to see him, embrace him, four agonisingly long, sleepless days she had waited since news reached her he and Marie had landed.

Now, she need wait no more.

"He is here?" She said again but did not wait for a reply as she broke into a run, hastily gathering her skirts so she did not trip on the stairs as she exited her chamber, Richard's footsteps echoing behind her "Edward?" She cried, though he would not be able to hear her, her eyes looking out of every window she passed though all that there was to be seen was the castle walls.

He was here, her son and her little love had come to her!

She would hold them within her arms again!

As she flew down another spiral staircase to the castle steps, Isabella came into view, wandering down the stone corridor and Constance's heart raced even faster. Her girls would see their brother and sister again! Isabella would perhaps be a little more assured!

"Issy!" She cried and the girl turned, her eyes still red yet more than willing to take the hand her Mother outstretched as she ran past, almost dragging her along "Gather your sisters!" She said "Your brother is home! Edward and Marie are here!"

"Now?" Isabella exclaimed, bewildered as they broke onto the castle steps. Constance squeezed her hand.

"Yes, my sweet love!" She exulted, their feet tapping on the steps as they rushed down them, much in danger of falling at their rapid pace "Fetch your sisters! Fetch them!" As they came to the bottom, she paused for only a moment, cupping her daughter's shocked face and pressing a kiss to her forehead "All will be well, I swear it. Together, we shall protect your sisters" She said then was away again, smiling over her shoulder at her shocked daughter before Isabella ran the other way, crying out at the top of her lungs for her little sisters with no care for decorum or dignity.

"Open the gates!" Richard boomed as he and Constance approached, he only a few paces behind her and the creaking of the ancient gates being hauled apart was music to Constance's ears. She cared not for the servants that watched her, surprised as she turned sideways to slip through the smallest gap in the gates she could before running across the drawbridge, only halting once she was across to look out at the village, searching for her children's banners.

She soon remembered she was facing east!

The sound of hooves came from behind her and she beamed at the sight of Richard riding through the now open gates with the reins of a second horse in his grasp.

"Come!" He said and she hoisted herself into the white palfrey's saddle, nodding in thanks before kicking her steed into a gallop. Together they rode through the small village as fast as their mounts would carry them before quickly turning and riding around the caste until they reached the western side, dust from the road flying into the air behind them.

Constance let out a cry of delight.

There, in the near distance she could see the banners of York and those of the Holy Roman Empire - close by the ones of Bourbon too!

Tears stung her eyes as the face of her dear Jamie flashed across her mind. He should have been there with her! With Edward!

Their brothers were there.
They would not let his death go unavenged!
The Woodvilles would have their retribution.

Her lips parted as her gaze took in the full scale of the approaching army, the sound of their marching already able to reach her ears, mingling with clanks of armour. There were thousands upon thousands of men! So many....so many had risen for her son, for her and Edward's son! Their sweet boy!

She could see the banners of Brittany, a reminder of her son's marriage, and those of the Scropes who had clearly ridden out to join as the army marched past Bolton! There were the bright banners of Orange, the men of her sister Joanna, and to her great surprise she glimpsed the arms of Bresse! Her sister Margaret had departed earth and her still her husband had sent men!

Her lower lip trembled at the sight, struggling to hold back a sob.

Her family had kept their word, their oath sworn nine years ago in France.

They had rallied not only for her son, but for her. Their Bourbon sister.

Constance of Bourbon - how long it had been since she'd thought herself as such!

And there, at the front of the army a glistening figure in golden armour upon an armoured steed, was her sweet boy.

Her son.

Her Edward.
Wearing no helmet atop but the crown she had sent away with his brothers so many months ago. His Father's crown.

Her heart leapt.

"Edward!" She cried and was unable to refrain from nudging her horse into a gallop again, racing down the valley, eyes trained upon him as she grew closer and closer, tears wiped away by the wind lapping at her face. Richard remained, watching.

When she was but a few hundred yards away, Constance forced herself to pull her steed to a halt, nails digging into her palm, looking down as she tried to compose herself. She did not want the first thing her son saw to be a weeping mess when they were reunited! She wanted to smile, to embrace him with all the joy in the world!

"Halt!" Her gaze darted up at the command carried to her upon the breeze with a voice so like her dear Ned's she could not help the tears that immediately returned to her eyes like a hot river spring.

That was her boy....and he sounded just like his Father!

Her breath shuddered as their gazes met, even at a distance she could tell as a bolt of pain shot through her heart when green eyes met those of blue.

They looked at one another for a moment and then, trembling, Constance slowly dismounted from her saddle, trying with all her might to remember to breathe so she did not faint.

Stomach in knots, heart in her throat, she watched as he nudged his horse into a walk, then a trot and suddenly he was growing closer by the second, becoming clearer to her eyes by the moment.

It made him real.
He was truly her son.

Two tears slid down her cheeks.
"Edward...."

About fifty meters or so away, he halted and dismounted too, not hesitating to approach on foot and that pushed her own feet forward.

The closer he came, the more her steps sped up, until she was running toward her son with a sob and he did the same, armour clanking as her skirts billowed behind her, hem dirty from the ground. He had grown so tall, so strong, she thought, his long strides matching his Father's! His face was the same yet different, still her angelic golden boy and yet now a man, growing with each day!

She had missed so much....
Anger flared within her, joining the fray with the growing joy and pain battling in her soul.

Her son was running toward her, she could almost feel her arms around him, they were so close, her hands began to reach for him and then....

She remembered.

He was now her King.

She had to treat him as such, had to be seen to address him as such.

Just as they were about to meet in the most blessed embrace, she halted herself and forced her legs down into a curtsy, bowing her head. It did not feel natural, it did not feel right. She wished to scoop him into her arms and coddle him with all her might as she'd done when he was but a babe.

But she could no longer.

Edward's feet came to a similar sudden stop before her and she could feel his confusion as he looked down upon her lowered form but before she could utter even the first letter of a royal address, she was pulled to her feet and encased in a tight embrace of cold metal and soft hair against her neck as he buried his head there.

"Mother...." His voice was a strangled whisper, caught in a sob and she was unable to refrain from weeping at it, closing her eyes as one, shaking hand came to cradle the back of his head and the other held him against her.

"Edward" She whispered, feeling his shoulders heave and the wet touch of his tears drop onto her shoulder; heard him sniff "oh my dearest love!"

She felt him smile against her, his embrace never once waning in its strength and she nuzzled her cheek against the side of his head, inhaling the scent of his golden curls "My boy! My sweet, beautiful boy!"

"Mother" He wept again and she wept too. Beneath his armour and crown was still her little boy, the sweet babe she'd pushed into the world and carried through the streets to his christening - screamed for as he was ripped cruelly from her arms.

"I know" She whispered, stroking her fingers through his hair "I know, my love....I am here, I have you my sweet boy. My sweet, precious boy"
"I have missed you...."
A laugh left her lips and she nodded, her chest warm with love as more tears poured down her cheeks.
"I have missed you, Neddy!" She replied, gently squeezing him "More than you shall ever ever know!"

Pulling away, she cupped his face, smiling when she looked upon it. There he was, she thought, her sweet boy. Her son. A perfect mix of both she and his Father. He would make a great King! Her thumbs wiped away the tears from his cheeks and she kissed his forehead before pulling him into her arms once more.

She wished for him to never stray from her sight again!

But after a moment, he pulled away and she was about to frown when her breath was stolen by the sight of her son lowering himself onto one knee before her.

Taking her hand, Edward pressed it to his lips and then his forehead. It was the greatest sign of respect not only as her son but as her King and despite them being separate from his army, they could all see what transpired.

As she sniffed, gazing down at her son with her free hand to her chest, hoping dear Ned could see how fine their son had grown, he looked up at her, nodding.

"I wish to ask for your blessing, Mother"
Another joyous laugh of love bubbled from her lips and she gave a nod of her own.
"Of course, my son" She replied and reached down to raise him to his feet "I give it with all of my heart"

"Ma Mére!"

Her head shot behind Edward as she heard her little love's yell and let out a cry, seeing Marie running toward her, tears running down her face.

"Oh, my love!" Constance cried and rushed to meet her, catching her daughter in her arms. Marie ran into her with such force she thought she may fall but she did not care. Her beautiful, precious daughter was returned to her and while it was in the midst of war, she was grateful that her marriage had not separated them for all eternity.

She could not have survived on letters alone, she was certain!

"My sweet darling" She wept, holding Marie close, surprised when she felt the same coldness deep through her gown as when she held Edward. The icy touch of metal. Drawing away a little, she looked down and smiled at the beautiful golden breastplate Marie donned over her gown, even carrying a dagger at her hip!

"My my!" She exclaimed "You are a true warrior, my love!"

"Like you, Mother!" Marie replied and Constance beamed, pulling her back into her arms.
"Oh my sweet girl" She breathed, stroking her hair (which was pulled into a braid woven with cloth of gold ribbons and thread) as she had done Edward's "My beautiful darling. My little love!"

Glancing over her shoulder, she beckoned to her son.

"Come here! Let me look at the both of you!" He did as she bade and, stepping back, she put a hand each on their shoulders, studying their faces. They had grown, there was no doubt, Edward more than Marie, but they were still her babes "Your sisters shall have a fit when they see you!" She laughed "I sent Isabella to fetch them but they shan't make it down here before you are at the gates! Or at least I don't think they will!"

"Are they well?" Marie asked and Constance did not miss the anxiety lacing her tone. It was only natural she would worry about them, they were her blood, but also natural that worry was heightened after all that had happened. Mere months ago they'd been locked in the Tower, prisoners of the witch and the bastard. Marie had been able to protect her younger brothers but not her little sisters.

Constance sighed, nodding.

"They are well enough. Cecily has nightmares but thankfully much is unchanged with her. Isabella and Ally on the other hand" She sighed again "Isabella is most unsettled. She has become older than her years and is so very worried every minute of every day. She hardly smiles or laughs like she used to"

"And Aliénor?" Marie prompted, making her Mother's smile fully fall.

Poor Aliénor....
Poor, innocent child....

"She no longer speaks. Not one word since she was returned to me and Issy says it started when they were in...." She paused, swallowed "that place. They were treated so very badly. They tortured Kate Hastings. She is still not free, in fact I fear her as dead as her husband and my dear brother"

"Those bastards" Edward hissed, gaze darkening but she put a hand to his cheek, shaking her head.
"Think not of revenge, my love!" She told him "Not now in this moment! You must tell me how you both have fared! Are you in good health? Your Aunt Maggie was a gracious host?"

"She was almost more determined to claim the throne than we two!" Marie replied with a renewed grin "And she has cared for us as her very own, Dickon, Charlie and little Eddie too! We are, all of us, in good health"

"The boys?" Constance asked, now the anxious one "You are certain? And your little cousin? Richard's lad?"

"They are the strongest boys to ever grace God's Earth, Mother!" Edward replied, gently taking her hand from his cheek and into his own. Her smile returned and her free arm encircled Marie's shoulders, bringing her close; Edward too.

And she was able to, she thought with glee! She was able to reach out and embrace her children! They were not across an ocean, known only to her in secret letters, they were standing before her, cheeks rosy with health and eyes roaring with determined fire.

She felt as she had the night she reunited with them in Burgundy. To her, they were still that same baby boy and little girl - her perfect babes in arms! They always would be, despite their adult positions in the world and ever growing minds.

"Oh my loves" She whispered "My sweet, sweet loves" She kissed their foreheads "I shall never let you from my sight again"

Glancing over her shoulder, she looked back to Richard who was still stationed further up the valley and her heart fluttered.

Even from a distance she could tell he was smiling at her.