~Truth Will Out~

14th of August, 1484....

A line of Yorks stood across the left side of the eastern ramparts of the castle: Edward, Richard, Constance, Marie, Isabella . On the right stood their most trusted men: John Neville, Lord Scrope, Peter and Charles, George Neville, Rob, Francis.

Between them, atop the centre gatehouse battlement stood the shivering, almost skeletal figure of Richard Grey, his gaunt face made wilder by a scraggly beard and matted hair, a noose around his neck tied about the stone at his feet. The wind carried his stench.

Below the gatehouse, across the lowered drawbridge stand many more Lords, arms folded, eyes narrowed, some with sardonic grins - all watching with satisfaction. Behind them had gathered the villagers, intermingled with countless soldiers that had packed Middleham's village to the brim, some had even scaled the walls to catch a glimpse of the upcoming spectacle!

Behind Grey stood his executioner, a hooded man Richard had chosen and whom Constance did not know the name of but knew he was about to do something to which she would owe him thanks for life. Since the moment the prisoner had appeared, the spectators had jeered, hurling every taunt and insult they could conjure at him.

She doubted he could hear them with the wind rushing in his ears, she barely could herself, but appreciated their enthusiasm all the same. Now, all had been called to silence by the movement of Edward when he'd stepped forward and held up a hand and there were orders for 'quiet for the King' barked. It made her heart swell with pride.

"Good people of Middleham!" He boomed, then smiled "Good men of England! My loyal subjects to whom I dedicate this fine day. This day you come to see a traitor die, to witness the fall of a demon and the dawn of a new age! A great age! For this day symbolises much more than a man's death, it symbolises the fall of his house!" A roar from the crowd went up and he let it free for a minute before signalling for silence again.

He spoke with confidence, with words Richard had given him to say. He would learn to craft his own in time, Constance thought, no less proud. He'd proven his potential with the speech he'd made only minutes after landing on English soil! She'd made John tell her that tale at least three times.

"Freedom from pretenders and traitors!" He continued "Freedom from snakes and the restoration of God and the House of York to this great Kingdom! This day you see the death of a traitor, who kept imprisoned your great Duke, my beloved Uncle of Gloucester and your beloved Dowager Queen, Constance, wife and Queen of my late Father!" The whole crowd rumbled with boos at that, directed towards Grey of course, sprinkled with cries of 'A Gloucester! A Gloucester!' And 'God save Queen Constance!'

For a moment she wondered with a secret smile what they'd cry if they knew the two were fucking one another!

Trying to quash a chuckle, she looked at trembling Grey, from cold or fear she wasn't quite sure. In all honesty she was rather surprised he was yet to piss himself with terror. He hadn't looked at her once, nor Richard, nor at anything else but the hills in the distance. Was he in shock, she wondered, or merely resigned to his fate?

Silence was called again.
"This is my justice!" Edward boomed "The King's justice! An end to traitors, the birth of a lasting peace!"

"God save King Edward!" Richard yelled.
"God save King Edward!" The crowd roared back and faster then one could blink, into the arms of the air Grey was pushed with a startled yell, a quick terror-filled turn of the head that caught Constance's eye for a moment before he was gone from sight. Then came the snap of his neck and she smirked.

'There' She thought, wiping her palms on her skirts as if she wiped his blood from them. She would've gladly seen to his death herself, with her bare hands if allowed 'See what you think of that, Elizabeth' After all the years of pain she'd suffered at that damned whore's hands after all the sons she'd lost, she'd finally been able to take one of Elizabeth's own and have it done in the name of justice. He'd damned himself, they'd all damned themselves the Woodville brood.

Taking a moment to glance over the battlements where the crowd roared their joy and Grey's body twitched this way and that a little, she let out a pleased hum then swept about to return inside.

One son dead.
One traitor gone.

It was just the beginning.
And what a beginning it was.

༻᯽༺

The cool breeze of the night was a welcome boon after the heat and trials of the day and Richard relished it as it brushed his silver-streaked hair. Looking out from the northern ramparts he watched the lights of the camp flicker, like dancing sprites in the darkness, embers of joy floating freely from them. Soon all of England would dance as merrily, he mused, basking in his nephew's like that would be just as warm and reaching as his brother's.

Oh Edward, he thought with a sigh, sweet, funny, gentle, rash, stupid, stubborn Edward who could smile as easily as he snapped as the years drew on. He'd been a right bastard at times but Richard had loved him - he loved him still. Would his brother ever know that?

Another sigh sped from his lips and he leant against the battlements, palms planted on the old stone; cold on his skin. His peace was soon disturbed by quiet steps but they were quiet steps he knew and didn't stir from his spot as Marie came to stand beside him.

"So, the entirety of my brother's army is to set out together?"
He nodded.
"Indeed that has been agreed upon and we shall separate in the days after, you taking your forces south to London"
"I see"

An unusual silence hung between them and he finally turned his head to look at her but she was not looking at him, rather staring out into the dimly-lit fields as he had done.

"It is of paramount importance you keep track of the usurpers movements" He still said "You do not wish to be caught unawares or have to engage in battle, your company shall not be truly strong enough for that even with his force of untrained criminals. But you need not be nervous, you have loyal men at your side, fine, experienced warriors, and commanders blood in your veins"

Her lips were pressed thin and she nodded - silent. A small frown creased his brow.

"I know you're bedding my Mother"

The breath was almost knocked from his lungs and he felt his limbs seize; heart immediately beginning a panicked hammering. His lips parted but no sound emerged. He swallowed.

"Marie...."
"There is no reason to deny it, Uncle" She said, quietly though as stern as stone "I shall not go shouting it from the turrets!"
"How do you know?" Was all he could muster and at last she glanced at him, shuffling from foot to foot, the look in her eyes unreadable. He knew she could read his fear well enough.

"I am a married woman, I know everything" She declared "Most of all I know my Mother, though I shall not dignify the notion that she is your mistress, for my Mother, the Dowager Queen of England, is above such things. If anything, she has taken you as her mistress!" She turned away again, her movements clipped like her words.

"If you must know I went in search of you in your chambers and found a ring just under your bed. A ring I gave her, the very one she was searching for a few weeks past. Besides, when we are not in the company of others, I can see you look at her as if she were the heavens themselves. You should be glad you are not obvious as some are or more than I would discover you"

"Marie, I do not do it to dishonour your Father" A shard of silence and then she dropped her head, shaking it.

"I've known you long enough to know you wouldn't dishonour a fly Dickon. You need not make excuses to me as if I am a little girl in need of placating for I am not so young and nor...." Her voice was softer now - she sighed "am I raging with anger"

His surprise was palpable and did nothing to ease the erratic beat of his heart. Surely he could not have heard right.

"You're not?"
A shrug.
"No. I have decided I have no right to be. Surprised? I shan't deny it. A little vexed since this information is so new and wholly unexpected particularly since it is so soon after my Father's death? Yes. But I am not angry" He drew in a sharp breath when she raised her head, wrapping her arms around herself, slipping them under the thin cloak she wore.

"My heart still stings from my Father's passing, a sting I daresay shall never truly cease, I still yearn to see him at my Mother's side but he is at God's now. Grief moves each of us differently, ma Mére's heart was not made to be empty of love - companionship, and if she has chosen you to be the next man to whom she gives her devotion, for it is a great gift not to be taken lightly, then I have no reason to begrudge you. I know she loves my Father, I know that you love Aunt Annie but I have also seen from my own husband how difficult it is to be alone in this world and I do not wish either of you to suffer that"

A small smile tugged at Richard's lips, conjured by her words and her interpretation. While she was a married woman, she did not understand everything the world of love and lust contained, not yet. At least she hadn't pushed him over the battlements! If she had he knew he wouldn't blame her.

"Besides" A small, wry smile of her own "at least I know you shall not wound ma Mére in the ways Father did"

"Never!" He vowed quickly "I shall never so much as look at another woman with lust while she breathes and likely even when she does not, though I could not bear her passing! I love your Mother, truly"

"I think you do and I think she loves you....it is a different type from the love I saw her bear Father but it is love all the same and that is what matters...." She had given them her blessing, him her blessing. Had he unknowingly fallen asleep and was wandering in the world of dreams for it was certainly good enough to be one!

"Marie, you cannot begin to comprehend how much those simple words mean, how much I have feared you would hate me"
A small chuckle escaped her at that and she turned her back upon the fields, leaning against the closest battlement.

"I was going to say I do not envy you your entrance into heaven but I believe Father would not want ma Mère to be alone, just as Aunt Anne would not want you to be alone, neither of your souls were made for such a thing. But do not expect me to call you Father anytime soon! The little ones may do so in time and I see naught wrong with that, they were robbed of their first father, they deserve a second"

"It shall be my honour to raise them if permitted"

She gave him a pointed look at that.
"You certainly wish to marry her then?"

"More than anything" He admitted "Apart from perhaps Edward's victory" He then amended "for without that I certainly shall not be able to wed her! But in any case, she is not ready for such a thing, nor for the love I wish to give. She is not ready for many a thing, her heart is still broken, not given to me as your remark about how soon after your Father's passing her intimacy with me is implied. She is not ready. I am willing to wait until she is"

Marie sighed again and then swallowed, slowly nodding to herself as her arms unwound themselves from around her torso, hands coming to fiddle in front of her bodice.

"If you give it time, I do not think Edward will deny you" She ventured, looking at her fingers "nor shall the Pope I hope for you will need a dispensation" She had clearly given this much thought, he mused, feeling the tug of a smile at his lips again, one that succeeded as he saw her own smile and after a moment she reached out and her fingers closed around a lock of his hair, tugging just as she used to do when she was little.

"Thank you, Marie" He murmured and she cocked her head to the side.
"You are welcome, Uncle Dickon. Just don't tell my Mother of our conversation, I wish to speak with her myself"

༻᯽༺

15th of August 1484....

Constance sucked in a shaking breath as she watched her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down her murrey skirts then her sleeves. She wore her locket that day instead of Richard's pendant, needing Edward close to her heart and wanting him close to their children.

Grey was dead, the men were prepared, the camp filling the nearby fields had been packed away and that morn they were to depart.

Turning, she looked around her bedchamber, the walls of the castle she'd resided in for eleven long months - ten as a prisoner, one as a righteous rebel. Now the wheels of her son's campaign were to truly set in motion and they would march across the country, watching and waiting for the Woodville clan to come upon them and wage the war for England's crown on the battlefield. The boy versus the bastard.

Yes, she had spent too long in these walls. It was time to get things done. Though her heart wanted to, she could not keep Edward squirrelled away here, the path to his safety lay in sending him into the claws of death and praying, strategising, his victorious escape.

Casting her eyes over the bags and chests that piled high upon the bed, she gave herself a firm nod. She would go to him, her son, she would soothe his fears and ease his doubts and hold him in her arms, clasped close to her chest.

Pushing the veil of her hennin behind her shoulders, she strode confidently from the room, head held high as she passed through the corridors of the castle to her sons chambers where she found him much like she'd been only minutes ago - watching himself before the mirror, his room as bare as hers, free of belongings.

Clad in the black armour Richard had had made for him with a tabbard bearing the royal arms of England over his breastplate, sword and dagger at his hip hanging from a red leather belt and his Father's crown, no, his crown she reminded herself, atop his head, he looked closer to a man than a boy that day.

"My son" She greeted, a small smile curving her lips, trying to dispel the knots of anxiety in her chest. His eyes flicked to hers in the mirror and he smiled too, pushing back his shoulders.

"So?" He asked "Do I meet with your approval, Mother?" Ah, she thought, there was the boy, emerging from the softness of his cheeks and the earnest tone of his voice he'd tried to mask with amusement.

"You are every inch a King!" She replied, walking to his side, never pulling her gaze from his "The King" She clarified and pushed herself up onto her toes a little to press a kiss to his cheek, one hand tucking a stray golden curl behind his ear "And soon not a soul on this Earth will contest it" Another kiss "Are you nervous, my love?"

"I would be a fool if I weren't, that's what Uncle Richard would say and it is true and I am nervous"
"Then you're not a fool. Your Grandmother Cecily shall certainly be pleased! She has written to say that if the battle goes awry we should immediately flee to her at Raby and she will see us safely from England"

He looked down at her, the smile gone from his face.

"It will not go awry. I will not fail" His head snapped back to the mirror, to himself and his hands began to fiddle with the belt at his waist "I cannot afford to fail. I have Richard, I have you I have men and more are coming" He shook his head "I won't fail, God is with me and England besides"

"Then you are certainly ready for battle!" Nodded Constance "But are you ready for the people? They shall line the roads to see you and your forces ride through, to see for themselves the King they've pledged their Fathers, sons and husbands to. And they will expect to see more than you, my love, they will expect to see your own Father. You appear older than your years, are so alike him in your looks and that shall only increase their expectations. You must appear the warrior that he was, the King he was until you are safely crowned and you grow into your own man"

Her sweet boy nodded, now clicking his dagger up and down in its bejewelled scabbard.
"I should like to be like Father" He murmured "very much so. But I won't make his mistakes" He glanced at her, hesitant "They will compare me to Arthur, won't they? Even if their hearts are steadfast for York. What can this boy give me that that man cannot apart from his true blood, they will ask. What can he do for our lives with his regents that the bastard cannot with his own mind?"

He did not expect to hear his Mother laugh. Well - scoff.

"His own mind?" She repeated incredulous and took him by the shoulders, turning his metal-clad body to silk-swathed one "Do you truly think that fair haired brat has his own mind? He is naught but a puppet, Edward! A puppet for his whore-Mother's own ambition. It is she and his kin that control the throne. But that does not make him any less at fault. He has still made decisions that have hurt our House, your brothers and sisters. Me. What he does have in the way of a mind has been warped and will only bring misery. He is not your Father's son, he is his Mother's. And what can he offer England that you cannot? Nothing. He can offer nothing"

How could he have these thoughts, she wondered, how could he question his own right to rule and the joy he would bring his subjects? She supposed it was good of him to think of them but his confidence was of paramount importance and she dispelled those musings immediately.

"My dear son, you offer peace and plenty to your people, a return to the days of your Father! You offer a righteous kingship, ordained by God, you will restore the Lord to the land! No longer will the country be in cold shadow but basking under your York sun! Good trade shall be reinstated, none shall go with empty bellies or purses! My sweet love!" She exclaimed, cupping his face with her hands "If they do compare you it will only be for a moment, the people seek certainty, an end to trouble and bloodshed and once they see you, well, they will see their future is bright. They will see a united England and help you make it so"

He gave a wry smile, arching an eyebrow in a gesture that was painfully like his Father's.
"And you will be by my side?"

Her heart seized and stung, reeling with the memory he had unwittingly catapulted to the forefront of her mind. Her dear Edward had spoken almost the exact same words to her over twenty years prior - on the morning of their coronation no less - and with eyes filled by tears she smiled, stroked his cheeks and gave the exact same answer.

"Always"

༻᯽༺

The neighing of horses filled the air, the clip-clop of their impatient hooves tapping every so often on the courtyard cobbles. The highest men of the army were gathered there, as were Marie (garbed in her breastplate and purple gown) and her generals.

When they saw the King emerge from the castle, one hand on the pommel of his sword, the other in his Mother's which he held high between them, both standing tall, they dipped low in obeisance, all falling. After a moment, he waved for them to rise and go about the last of their business. Immediately quick chatter was resumed, orders barked, squires running hither and thither with red faces and tired eyes.

Edward went immediately to his Uncle, who was in conversation with Rob and Francis and quickly motioned for them to rise when they bowed again.

"Uncle" He greeted with a firm nod. Constance could tell he was trying to keep himself steady and thought he made a good job of it, as did Richard she could tell who looked upon her son as his King but with the pride of a Father glistening in his gaze "Rob, Francis"

"Your grace" They all chorused.
"I assume we are ready to depart?" He glanced at the castle gates, behind which waited the village people, the corpse of Grey and further on, his army.
"The men march at your command, your grace. All is ready for your conquest"
Another nod.
"Good, good" Fingers tightening on his sword, he looked about "Where are my sisters? I sent for them"

"Well, one of them is here!" Said Marie's airy voice as she strode to his side, confident and donning (most likely) the only smile in the courtyard "Am I not good enough for you, brother?" She was trying to keep his spirits high, her Mother's too at whom she winked "They will be with you, soon enough, I had them sent for" Her brother only repeated his previous words, beginning to shuffle from foot to foot.

"Lad" Came Richard's deep voice after a moment, along with a grounding hand that settled on his nephews shoulder, gave a squeeze though he would not be able to feel it. Edward looked at him, Richard raised his eyebrows a little, nodded "Calm yourself now" He let go and Edward nodded, said he would.

The merry cry of Cecily came as a reprieve and he turned with a grin just in time to see the eleven year old bounding towards him and catch her in her arms. Constance couldn't hide a smile of her own, Cecily was perhaps the only person left in the Yorkist camp who did not bow as low as they could when entering Edward's presence and address him with this title or that. She knew one day soon she'd have to but allowed it for the moment, to Edward it was a gift.

"Brother!" She giggled as he raised her high above the ground, armour clanking, watching Isabella glide elegantly across the courtyard, hand in hand with Aliénor. The former had been in full sprits the past days, walking about the castle with thinly pressed lips and a furrowed brow, little else to say but 'yes' or 'no'.

She was worrying, her Mother knew, worrying and worrying and that was not helped by the fact the army's plans were carefully concealed from her on account that if the battle were to go awry and she was somehow captured, that information would do her no good. Better she knew nothing and could profess so without the trace of a lie.

"Little sis!" Edward greeted, kissing Cecily's brow "Have you come to see me off to victory?"
"We have, your grace" Isabella replied as his ears were filled with Cecily's cries of 'Yes! Yes! Yes!' "Come now, Ally, curtsy to your brother"

"Oh don't you start" He grumbled, watching them dip and their skirts pool about their feet.
"You are the King" Isabella reasoned when she rose "and everyone is watching, we must pay you the obeisance you are due" Edward mumbled something about supposing that was true and with another kiss to Cecily's head, placed her back on her feet. She immediately grasped his metalled hand.

"Well then" He replied "as your King I order you to keep these two in good health and safe. I can count on you for that, can I not?" Isabella tilted up her chin, pushed back her shoulders and gestured to her waist where the dagger he'd given her was strapped to her girdle.

"You know you can" She turned to their Mother "I will protect them with my life" Constance knew she meant it.

"Thank you, my love" She told her, rubbing a hand across her shoulder with a smile "Though you must keep yourself safe also" Their heads flew up at the sound of horns and Richard began to nod, pulling on the cuffs of his gloves.

"It's time" He murmured, glancing at Edward who gave a stiff nod.

"Come here" He said and his sisters fled into his arms, cuddling close as he kissed each of their heads "No tears now, no weeping" He told them "I want to see you waving and smiling from the ramparts when I depart! I will see you soon and all will be well" Good God those around him hoped that were true.

Releasing them, he turned and strode tall to the gates where his horse awaited, a fine white destrier, armoured with a caparison bearing the royal arms of England and York's sigils - his Father's. He hadn't time to choose his own.

His sisters watched after him, teary eyed though trying not to let their cheeks damped as per his orders.

"My brave, sweet girls" Constance said and immediately they were at her skirts, clinging to her as her arms encircled them, clasping them to her chest, her heart. Now she would have to be the one careful not to cry. "All will be well" She told them and herself, kissing the tops of their heads over and over and over, then their foreheads, then their cheeks. She wanted to remember the feel of their warm, living flesh on her lips, the softness of it, the scent "We are Yorks! One way or another we win and this is our day to win, my loves. To make it a promise," Though she knew she shouldn't "you may ask me for anything, anything you'd like that you will have after Edward's victory. Gowns, jewels, books, anything!"

"Can I have a monkey?" Crowed Cecily, little head turning up to her with a hopeful smile and Constance nodded eagerly.

"Yes, Cis! A hundred monkeys if you wish! You shall have a white faced capuchin and he will sit on your shoulder and at your side!" The sound of her daughter's giggle was like a chorus of angels "And for you, Isabella?" Isabella was hesitant but eager to please her sisters and her Mother and, for a moment, seemed to indulge in a sliver of outward hope.

"A book of hours bound in cloth of gold with diamonds" She said and Constance grinned.
"It is yours! And what about you, my love?" She turned her head to her youngest and smiled a softer smile; leant down a little "What would you like, sweetness?" She longed for a single word, a single syllable, the voice she'd not heard for almost a year. This could be her last chance "You can have anything" She pressed when Cecily made no sound "Anything, my love, my little girl"

Cecily only smiled a little and pushed herself onto her toes to press a kiss to her Mother's cheek. Constance's eyes fluttered shut, her heart tightened then shuddered and she held her girls close. No words then, no words.

"I love you all with all of my heart" She whispered and their hands clutched at her tighter "I will come back, I will. No man, or woman or God can keep me from you or our rightful places in this world. I will come back" Kissing their cheeks one last time, she stood straight and fought the sob lodged in her throat as she untangled herself from their arms "Go to Alice now"

One of her two women was waiting on the steps and she did her best to smile at her, sending a thankful nod their way. Alice returned it. She would help protect her girls (while Martha attended her), she knew it and had instructions on how to get to their Grandmother at Raby if need be "Go, my loves" She said, though could barely whisper the words as she gently pushed her daughters towards the keep. With heavy steps, they went, peering over their shoulders.

"Are you well?" Richard's quiet voice startled her and looked behind her where he stood but a few paces away. While the others had made to mount their horses (as almost all had done by then) he'd stayed under the guise of escorting her to her horse. He held out a hand.

She took it. He squeezed. She smiled a little, blinking away her tears.

"Yes. I am well. Take me to my steed, Dickon"
With a nod he began to lead her across the courtyard and she held her head high, looking towards Edward where her horse and Richard's stood either side and slightly behind his, towards the future when suddenly, the pitter-patter of running feet and arms were flung around her waist.

Turning with a gasp she saw little Aliénor clinging onto her for dear life, little head buried in her stomach until she looked up and -

"Please come back"

She couldn't help but gasp, her eyes widening and for the first time between them, she was the one who didn't have any words. Pulling her trembling g hand from Richard's hold, she looked down at her little girl and sunk to her knees, slowly reaching out before she pulled her girl into the fiercest hug she could muster.

"You...." She managed, trying desperately not to weep "You....you....yes! Yes I will come back! I swear to you, I swear it my sweet, sweet girl" She clutched the back of her head, kissing the side of it "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I will come back to you" She would've stayed, she would've held onto her daughter for ever and ever, coaxed her to repeat herself, to tempt more words from her but she knew there was no time.

With her daughter's voice in her heart and mind, she rose from the ground and kissed Aliénor one last time; brushed down her skirts "Go to your sisters, my love" And with a smile, Aliénor ran back to them, the eldest of which was in tears, a hand covering her mouth.

Constance found she certainly needed Richard's hand the rest of the way to her steed for if he hadn't his grip to ground her, she was sure she'd either collapse or run straight back to her daughters. Either way, courage was thrumming in her chest and she held her head up high, smiling at her son as she stepped up the mounting block and settled herself in the saddle.

"She's broken her silence at last! My girl is free!"

They could hear the people begin to cheer, chants of Edward's name reaching over the castle walls, drawing him forward into the world, into their gaze. A tug in Constance's chest told her to hold him back, to shield him inside the walls of the keep but there was no place for that thought. It was time for the world to see him, she told herself.

And wouldn't he make a glorious sight with an army of twelve thousand men at his back.