~Little Fears~

August 1484, Middleham Castle....

Sitting on the floor of the nursery, Aliénor seated on his lap, Edward watched over her golden head at the dolls she played with, arms wrapped around her middle. He hadn't spent much time with his sisters of late - he hadn't ever really - but he was glad to. He wanted to know them, to love them, to like them.

That was a little more difficult with the youngest seeing as she did not speak but he was growing to know her by watching, remembering what made her smile, indulging her when she came to show him something weather it be a book or a butterfly. She sometimes hummed to herself he noticed, just quietly.

He looked to his others sisters. Isabella, who sat in one window seat, nose in a book, was quiet, serious but not without a smile. Cecily, seated happily in the other, was sleeping soundly. She laughed a lot, she was perhaps the only person who did at Middleham, shielding the air from their almost all consuming worries.

When Aliénor turned around, a doll in hand and thrust it up to his face he smiled, taking it in hand only to find his smile faltering a little. Where long golden hair had once been, it was now cropped to its shoulders and a little crown fashioned from parchment, painted a buttercup yellow, sat atop its head, its purple dress had been haphazardly cut short; now resembled a tunic.

He looked back and forth between his sister (who was gazing expectantly up at him) and the little doll under his fingers, slowly realising that the doll was not meant to be a Queen but a King.

"Me?" He breathed and Aliénor nodded, a small smile curving her lips as she turned around in his lap and wove her arms around his neck, pressing a little kiss to his cheek. Drawing back, she tapped the crown then reached up and tapped his head "Yes, I am King. So was our Father....do you remember him?"

Another nod, little fingers curling around a lock of his hair and tugging gently. Just as their Father used to do to them, a habit Marie had inherited "Yes" Edward breathed, leaning their foreheads together with a smile "And it would make us giggle and he would laugh. Do you remember his laugh? It could fill a thousand halls and make a thousand men smile. I'll wager you heard it more than I did, petite soeur"

Vision obscured by tears, when one broke free it was only a moment until soft linen was dabbing at his cheeks, held by a little hand. Blinking quickly, he spread a smile onto his lips. He didn't want to cry, didn't want his sisters to see him do so. He wanted them to see him happy.

"Thank you, Ally" He whispered with a small laugh, pulling her hand away "Now, did you know that I now have a wife and Queen?" The girl nodded, tapping the doll's crown again "Well, she is called Anne and is even younger than you, sister! She is seven!" A pair of dark blue eyes stared up at him curiously "I think the two of you shall be great friends! She is smaller than you too!"

"Rather like a mouse?" Isabella called without turning from her book. Edward smiled at her interjection, sometimes it was so very hard to get even a single syllable from her.
"She is prettier than a mouse!" He replied "but in rather a doll-like way. I'll wager she could probably ride a mouse"

"And is she kind? Intelligent" The book closed but she still did not look their way.
"Kind, yes, with more intelligence than one would expect in one so small in stature and young in age. Perhaps she could oppose you in a debate?"

"Perhaps when she is older" Isabella's head finally looked his way and she rose from the window seat, gliding over to the centre of the room where he and their sister sat before sitting herself, smoothing out her skirts "Is she truly younger than Ally?"
"Oh I know she is!" He sighed with a wry smile "but don't tell Marie I said so or I shall be in for quite a scolding!"

"So young and yet already a Queen" Isabella murmured "Does she even know the meaning of a crown? The weight that it bears?" Aliénor slipped from his lap, clearly becoming uninterested in the conversation and returned to her dolls while Edward sighed again; shrugged a little.

"How could she? While she is intelligent in all thing academic, she knows little of the world and its strife"

"At least she shall grow accustomed to it in her youth" Isabella pointed out, playing with the hem of her skirt. At twelve, she was the closest sibling in age to him "She shall not know the pains we have suffered nor, God willing, have her crown taken"
"It will not happen, I swear it" He told her fiercely, a solemn promise in every word but she only shook her head.

"You cannot promise such a thing, Edward" She told him "You can only promise to work to prevent such a thing. Your Anne certainly shall not hold a candle to ma mére, no Queen can better her"
"It is ma mére who is to tutor her in Queenship" He returned "I hope she shall become a fine Queen"
"If rather a young one"

He arched his eyebrows, looking to Aliénor and brushing a hand over her soft hair as he felt his irritation bristle a little.
"You do not need to remind me. And you shall like her" He added "as I have grown to. Before I set sail for England she gave me a pendant with a lock of her hair inside"

"And you wear it?"
He knew it likely sounded ridiculous but the locket comforted him, kept him grounded somewhat, particularly at night when his thoughts of the coming fight began to spiral to the heavens. All he need do was wrap his hand around the cool metal and the waters of his mind calmed a little.

Whether it was because it was a reminder of her support, the sweet words of confidence she had spoken, or simply an object on hand at all times that had grown a comforting attachment, he did not know but nor did he care if it were both or neither. It aided him and that was all that mattered.

"Yes, I like to and I know she would like it. I want to make her happy" He replied and Isabella's expression softened from one of slight scorn to warm affection, prompting her hand to find his arm, gently squeezing the velvet of his doublet.

"You are very good, Edward. It pleases me that you care for her and wish for her happiness"
"I am glad to have pleased you, sister, I wish to see you happy too and more at ease day to day" Her hand slipped away, a small frown straightening her lips.

"At ease?" She repeated "How so brother?"
"It takes one glance at you to see you are taut as a bowstring at all hours and I do not blame you!" He added quickly when he saw her open her mouth to snap a retort "What you have witnessed and endured is something I wish I could take away but I cannot and understand why you feel you must be on your guard at all times"

"So?" She questioned.
"So" He told her and reached for his belt where two daggers lay, one in his usual scabbard hooked to the belt and the other behind.

The second, he plucked forth, the hilt golden with a circular ruby embedded in the end, the scabbard red leather, decorated with golden thread that created roses, stems winding between them "I wish for you to have this, so that you know you can protect our sisters should you ever have need of it again, and yourself"

Isabella's eyes widened in true surprise, her cool expression fading, gaze flicking from her brother to the dagger. She drew in a long breath, reaching out but not allowing her hand to close around the sheathed blade.

"Does Mother know?" She whispered, looking at him again and he nodded. She did too.
"She does not wish for any of her children to have to carry a blade but understands why it may help you and so approved my request to give it to you. As long as you understand that it is no toy but a weapon can cause great harm"

Another nod and her fingers finally curled around the leather scabbard, her free hand raising to gently run across the cold hilt. She did not speak for a moment, seemingly overcome by either his gesture or the power she held; perhaps a peace she had not felt for well over a year - assurance.

"I chose it" Edward murmured, with a rather sheepish smile "from my own collection" She finally raised her eyes again and they were glistening with tears; her voice was weak.
"Collection? H-how many do you have?"
"Too many for my own good, Uncle Dickon says"

And when she smiled herself, it was as if the sun was shining on his heart "Do you like it?"
"More than you can ever know" She said between sniffs and almost immediately, Aliénor was at her side, little hand and handkerchief raised again; gently dabbing at Isabella's cheeks.

Isabella laughed a little at the sweet act and pulled her little sister onto her lap, kissing her forehead.
"Thank you, dear Ally" She said before looking at their brother again "And thank you, Neddy....I hope your little wife and I shall find friendship"

༻᯽༺

Sighing, alone in her chambers, Constance made her way over to her bed, sitting down upon the side she slept and reaching under her pillow. Her fingers touched cool metal and pulled her locket into the light. She'd removed Richard's pendant and laid it upon her dressing table, she could not hold one and wear the other, she thought, that did not feel right.

Her love for Edward and Richard was separate and would remain so.

After the pad of her index finger across the engraved cover of the locked, she opened it with a click, revealing the small lock of curled golden heir nestled inside. The one physical thing she had left of her dear husband - aside from her children of course - the one thing that was solely hers.

That day she had felt tired, more so than usual, and a cloud had settled firmly over her heard, sending her into sadness; rumination on her thoughts. Ones that always lead to Edward one way or another. Even in death he was the centre of her attention! She expected nothing less. But each time he was summoned to her mind, his image, his memories pricked at her heart, prick, prick, prick, digging away at her serenity and hope until it found her anger and sadness.

And they flooded into the light.

Picking up the lock of hair by the ribbon it was tied with, she looked at it, remembered the full head of golden curls she used to see, run her fingers through night and day, clasp in the sweetest pleasure; curse in her anger. If they were to dig up his body would those curls still be there? Had his handsome face collapsed beneath the earth, leaving only an empty crevice in the darkness?

Or did they endure like the consequences of his stupidity and lust? He'd been so lovely, so very lovely, and so very foolish at times.

Closing her eyes, she brushed the lock of hair gently against her cheek, conjuring the happiest of memories, ones of comfort and pleasure, the twenty three years they had spent together. Almost two and a half decades of marriage, more than half of their lives.

It was meant to be more, she knew it had meant to be more....many more.

"I love you" She whispered as the golden lock brushed back and forth across her cheek "you know I do, but I am so very angry with you. How could you do it?" She asked, heat beginning to rise in her chest "How could you leave me and our children? Our sons and daughters? How could you have left us?" Her eyes snapped open, her voice was no longer a whisper "You knew Edward was not ready to rule and yet you left this earth!" It was void of warmth, hard, tipping over the edge into ire. Her hand stilled.

"Our daughters minds have been stained with terror, our sons have been forced into exile and I find I am angrier with you now Edward and Marie have returned for it reminds me they would've had no need to if you had stayed! Nor would Jamie lie beneath the Earth with his head severed from his shoulders!"

The lock of hair fell from her hand, floating to the covers, and she stood with a gasp, pressing a hand against her abdomen as tears flooded her eyes "Why did you not fight harder?" She cried, beginning to pace back and forth before her bed, glancing up at the ceiling "Why did you not give every fibre of your strength to the fray and live? I have seen you survive battles, return home to me after killing men with your bare hands and suffering many injuries! I have seen you live through so much and yet you could not fight one fever?" He had not been that same warrior when he died but that did not matter to her in that moment, if he could not fight with his body he should've fought with he soul, he should've refused to be taken by the angles!

"And even if you had died as you did, none of this torture would've occurred if your bastards were not walking the Earth! If you had never taken their whore Mother to your bed! Had you not died or they not lived, our boy, our sweet, precious, boy would not be readying himself to go into battle at the age of fourteen! Though he does not think himself so, he is a child, Edward!" She hissed "A little boy who looks so much like you, who possesses your height and your smile but he is not you! Not yet! He is not a man but must risk his life as one would!"

At last she grew quiet, the softness of his hair replaced with the wetness of her tears against her cheeks. She halted her pacing and leant against the nearest bedpost, curling her right arm around it as her head rested against the carved wood. She shook her head.

"A part of me hates you for it....for all of it. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been if I'd never married you, never laid eyes upon you. What would've happened? What could've happened? What should've happened instead of the unending pain I have endured more of my days than not? Would I feel as weak as I do now? Would I be as strong as I am now?" Her lower lip trembled "I think on what life would've been without you but then I remember I wouldn't have had you, my Ned, and I cannot bear that thought....why did you leave me when I want you so badly?"

Bursting into tears, she slid down to the floor in a sobbing heap, agonised cries escaping her as she curled into herself like a child, pressing herself into the side of the bed. Wreathed in her world of pain, she did not hear the creak of her door opening or the footsteps that came towards her.

"Sister?"

A man knelt at her side and arms slid around her. Though she was not certain if it was Peter or Charles, she leant into her brother's arms, sobbing into his chest "Sister what ails you? You shall not lose the coming battle, Peter and I are with you in this! As is God!" It was Charles and the little familiarity they shared made her lean into him all the more.

"I want him back!" Were the sobbed words that slipped past her lips "I want Edward back...."
"I know" Was all he said and let her cry in his embrace, cry and cry and cry, until she felt she could cry no more. Her tears relented somewhat, her sobs reduced to sniffs and shaking breaths that filled her ears "You were his wife and Queen and he your King and husband" Charles murmured after a while "It is only right that you should mourn him"

"I don't want to!" She croaked "He should be here! Alive! In my arms! Jamie should be alive too...."
"And we will avenge his murder, Constance. Come, sweet sister" With a coaxing hum, he gently lifted her upright and propped her against the bedpost, her body limp like a rag doll "Here"

With a warm smile, he pulled his handkerchief from his crimson cardinals robes and passed it to her. When she did not take it, he leant forward and dabbed at her cheeks and chin himself before pressing the cloth into her trembling hand "What is the cause of such a sudden outpouring of grief?"

She shrugged.

"I do not know.....I feel empty today, sad. It simply happens. Usually I have distraction but not today. It seems all are at rest or at leisure. If I do not have distraction I have nothing but my grief, Charles" Suddenly, she glanced up at him, a small, pitiful, frown on her flushed face "Why are you here? Is aught amiss? Are the children well?"

"They are well" He gently hushed her "I simply wished to speak a little of strategy with you but it can wait"
"It cannot, naught can wait at this-"

"It can wait" He repeated firmly "And it will. I do not pretend to know love as you knew it, Constance, I've never had the chance for it nor an interest but I do know something of grief. For our Father, though I was not as close to him as you, for friends I have lost. Grief is a curse set upon us by our hearts, it is love's cost and it is a great one but we all must pay it. You have lost enough to know that the pain eases"

"It dulls" She sniffed "but it never goes away, it never leaves your heart, your soul is forever tainted"
"Why not join me in prayer?"
Her eyes dropped to her lap and she bit the inside of her cheek, tears brimming in her eyes again.

"I do not pray anymore" She whispered, waiting for the sharp intake of judgemental breath she was sure would come only to only find silence. An understanding silence "I do not have the strength nor the faith. My belief in God has returned somewhat these past months but I still wonder what use is prayer when so many of mine have gone unanswered? Can God truly hear our cries? Our pleas? Or are we simply pieces upon his Earthly board, little figures he watches? Will....will he watch my boy die as he did his five brothers, his sister and my unknown babe before him?"

Again silence but then she heard Charles shuffle a little on the floor, stretching out his legs which were fuzzy from kneeling before he crossed them as they did as children in the nursery.

"We are often taught there is crime in questioning, sin in lack of faith in our darkest hours" He murmured "I do not believe that this is true. I believe God gave us our faults as he did our virtues and that such a mighty being as he will understand when we waver. While Eve are the apple, it was our Heavenly Father who created us in his own image. The holy book teaches faith in all circumstances but I believe he understands our weaknesses, our trepidation at times, our loss of faith when we have lost so much else"

His hand appeared over hers, the one he'd pressed the handkerchief to "He is still there, Connie" He said gently "I know he is. The Holy Father himself told me that God was with your son in this war before I departed and I believe him. Why not join me in prayer? Even a small one"

She shook her head.
"I can't...."

A soft smile curved his lips, woven with the look of their Father's that sparked the warmth of happy memories in her chest.

She's so often prayed with him, it was he who'd strengthened her faith, fortified her heart and soul in love for their Lord above. He'd made her the onyx rosary she had carried ever since he'd given it to her. And yet she could no longer recite the prayers that came with every cool bead, only run her fingers along them to calm her mind.

What would he think?
Surely he would understand?
She could not know for certain.

"I would be grateful for your prayers, brother" She continued after a moment of tentative silence "I shall not join you but I would be much obliged to you if you would fetch the onyx rosary by my bedside. It is a source of great solace" He did so without question and she closed her eyes as the cool, curved stones slipped into her palm.

"And I hope it shall be one of faith once more in the future" He returned gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he stood, robes rustling as he walked toward the golden beauty of her prie-dieu.