~Rebellion~

July 1469, the English Midlands....

"I hate him" Marie mumbled, frowning at the hand she'd stuck out of the carriage window; letting the gentle summer breeze slip through her fingers.

At almost five years old she was now permitted to ride in the same sumptuous carriage as her Mother when the royals were on their summer progress, a thrill if ever there was one, but while she tried to enjoy such luxurious status, she could not help but let her mind wander into resentment stirring within.

Marie was a pretty girl, with her Mother's brown waves and her Father's blue eyes, she was intelligent too, more so than most girls her age!

Already she'd  proven herself an apt York Princess, attending to her studies, dancing with grace and becoming master of three languages, English, French and Latin! The only downside was, with the latter language, she found amusement in correcting her personal chaplain when he dared say one word wrong!

It was something she'd learnt from her Uncle George.

She loved her Uncles, she knew as much, although her Father's brothers were simply George and Dickon to her, playmates at times, dance partners at others. She had not seen the elder for two months now, though Dickon would be waiting for her at Tamworth, she was sure of it, he'd promised!

And Dickon never broke a promise.
'Loyaulte me lie' She thought with a sigh 'Loyalty Binds Me' It was his motto and one she greatly admired; wished her Father would imitate but that was a fool's dream.

Her Mother was sat beside her as their carriage trundled along the rocky English roads; wrapped in a thin satin shawl with one hand gently combing through her daughter's hair. Her gown was of blue silk, the same as Marie and even their headdresses were of the same hue!

Dressing them in similar garments had been a tradition Constance developed a taste for ever since she'd given birth to Marie, feeling it tied them together despite the invisible bond between them that was unbreakable.

Marie adored her Mother, she always would, there was not another on earth who could ever love her more she always thought whenever Constance kissed her goodnight or read to her by the fire. She adored her Father too, that was only natural and he did love to dote on her, but his handsome, golden figure would never overshadow Queen Constance!

Twenty five summers Constance had seen.

"Who, my little love?" The Queen now asked, looking down at the little dark haired girl and feeling her heart swell with affection. Marie's little lips pouted, her brows creasing while her slender fingers curled into a fist.

"Arthur" She spoke the name with bitterness, one so virulent the syllables no longer formed a name nor a word but an all-consuming poison of hatred brewed over many years.

Still, Constance almost smiled at the word her daughter spat out.
"Arthur?" She echoed, brushing a small leaf from the hood of her cloak.

"Yes" Marie mumbled, taking to drawing patterns on the painted carriage door. She hated Arthur. She hated him. His golden curls, his perfect smile, his confidant walk and ability to fight even then when he was almost a year younger than her! Yes, she hated him but his physical attributes were not the only cause for such animosity, no, the painful roots ran far far deeper than that "Father loves him more than me because he's a boy and I'm a girl"

At first the air was silent but eventually Constance sighed, gently stroking one rosy cheek with a finger. It was no secret that Marie was the apple of her Father's eye, the star that brightened his skies even on the darkest night and he doted on her each change he got.

Yet if Marie was an apple, Arthur was a jewel and even a child knew that the former could not compete.

"Your Father loves you very much" Was all Constance could say, all that she could say without spinning a web of lies that she knew would be translucent to the Princess' eye. Marie seemed to see what others could not, beneath facades and between words until nothing could hide. It was a gift her Mother blessed and cursed.

"I know....but not as much as Arthur" She hesitated only slightly before she spat out her next words of bitter resentment "little Woodville brat"

They took the Queen completely by surprise but within moments she found she had to fight back laughter with more determination than the strongest warrior! Her eyes glimmered with mirth, her shoulders bobbed with her suppressed girlish giggles and she leant her head back against the carriage in hope that her daughter would not see her grin.

"Where did you hear that?" She asked, her voice light with airy amusement that only increased when she received her answer.

"George" Marie paused as her Mother let out a small laugh she'd rarely heard that past year, ever since God took her baby brother. It was a laugh that banished Marie's resentment of her half brother to the darkest shadows, eager to keep Constance's spirits alive "Would you like to hear what Uncle Richard said?"

Her Mother continued to chuckle and shook her head. Uncle Richard was what Marie called Warwick and all found the endearment entirely adorable just like the bond the two shared. He treated her like his own daughter and little Marie loved him for it!

Besides that, Constance knew the deep hatred that ran through Warwick's veins for the Woodvilles, why, only two months ago he had departed court with George in a rage. They'd both stormed away when Edward finally decided to marry his sister Margaret not to France, but to Burgundy, a decision that had set the court in uproar!

But no amount of rage could sway the King's mind and the Woodvilles added another victory to their board.

Discretion Edward had promised her three years prior and, in truth, he had kept that promise most faithfully but with his sister's marriage he had been as about discreet as a herd of stampeding oxen. Therefore, his brother and cousin were sent into a swirling storm of anger that carried them back to the cold and windy North, cursing Woodvilles with all their might.

Yes, there could be no doubt of Warwick's Woodville hate and Constance could only imagine what he'd said to Marie if she'd caught him in one of his rages!
"No, no I would not, little love" She laughed but Marie was not to be stalled, not now she'd found a way to make her beloved Mother happy!

"He calls her the Woodville bi...."
Constance's cry of laughter cut her declaration short and she found herself pulled against her Mother's chest while her shoulders shook with amusement.

"That's quite enough, Marie!" She scolded, though there was no real chastising behind her words, and the girl settled happily back into her seat, the inside of the carriage falling silent for a moment before she spoke again.

"Ma Mère?"
"Yes, little love?"
"Do you love me?"

It was with those words, Constance turned to her daughter, a soft smile of adoration on her lips. She pulled Marie close, swaddling her in silk just as she used to do when she was a tiny babe.
"You are my very heart, Marie" She whispered into the brown locks tickling her face "You are my happiness"

༻᯽༺

Mother and daughter slept side by side, well, Marie slept, snuggled against the Queen's side like a content puppy, Constance simply rested, staring out of the carriage windows in silence. The sound of the horses hooves on the road soothed her mind and she liked watching the guards that rode around the royal carriage.

The banners they held fluttered in the wind, a masterpiece of murrey and blue with white roses adorning the swirling fabric. One hand subconsciously travelled to her belly, smoothing over the silk of her gown where her babies had grown.

She remembered the soft swell that she'd cradle in her hands, the small kicks that made Edward laugh with delight and then....then the pain that tore through her belly like a hot knife. She remembered when she gave birth to James she'd feared that she was losing him and now....now she truly had lost four babes.

Her little girl, two boys and another too small to tell.

In her mind, she often wondered what she would have named them had she been able to carry them to term. Would they be sitting in the carriage now with her, excited little ones bouncing to look over the green fields? Would Marie care for them, look after them?

Would Elizabeth be gone if she had been able to have her boys? She could only wonder.

It had been over a year since she'd lost her last baby, a little boy with wisps of golden hair and since then she hadn't conceived. Edward attended her bed, made love to her as he always had done, with passion and adoration, but nothing came of it and she began to fear that she was barren. She had asked God not to make Edward's seed quicken if he didn't plan any more babes for her but what would happen if she could not bear children? Would Edward cast her aside?

'No!' A small voice in her mind cried, Edward loved her! She was his wife, his Queen, she was the only one who could bear him legitimate heirs and he adored her, she was sure of that. Although the loss of their children was painful beyond belief, it had bonded them closer together, drawing Edward away from Elizabeth and into her arms far far more often than not.

He cared for her more then than he ever had and, although it was sometimes tiresome to be treated as if she were made of glass, it was sweet too. She enjoyed when he would make her walk alongside him, his arm around her waist to ensure she was steady. She enjoyed when he would check she had enough on her plate at dinner to keep her healthy, after all, she had been incredibly sick after the death of their third babe, not eating a full meal for near three weeks.

By the time she'd agreed to force down a full bowl of porridge she had been skin and bone and it took half a year to regain her full strength.

A small thrill shot through her veins as she realised she would see Edward that day, they would be reunited and she would be able to tug him to their chamber where they would make love all night! She could hardly wait.

"Halt the carriage!" A deep voice suddenly ordered and Marie jerked awake, ignoring her Mother's orders for her to stay put and clambering up to the carriage window.

"I know that voice, ma mère!" She protested, batting her hands away "I know it!" Sticking her head out of the window she gave a squeal of delight and almost fell from the carriage in her excitement "Dickon!" She cried "ma mère! It's Dickon! And Uncle John!"

Constance frowned, her little girl could not be right, they were meant to meet Dickon and the others at Tamworth! Not before!

"Open the carriage!" Her order was instantly obeyed and a guard bowed as he gripped the wooden door; swung it open for her. Marie jumped out, scampering away without any sense of danger whatsoever, despite her Mother's calls for her to stay put.

"Dickon!" She simply called over her shoulder as she skipped away "I must see Dickon!" Constance lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun when she stepped onto the road, the earth crunching beneath her feet, and she gathered her skirts, hoping they would not be too dirty from this expedition.

Within moments though, she found she hardly cared and was striding forward with all the speed her pride would allow to meet the two men atop fine horses standing stationary before the royal guards.

The first was, as Marie had said, Dickon, his curly black hair shining in the sunlight and his face, ever maturing as it had been those past few years. He was almost a man, she thought, or at least, he certainly thought he was at sixteen. He sat on his steed proudly, one hand resting on his thigh, a sigh of confidence, and bowed as well as he could before Constance turned to the man beside him.

She smiled, Marie had been right again! Grinning down at her with the same, amusing smile as his elder brother, John Neville inclined his head politely towards her. As brother to the Kingmaker, he was a powerful man, a Neville warrior that was famed for his skill with a sword. He had never lost hand to hand combat and was feared by his enemies because of it.

Still, far from the grim faced warrior Constance had first imagined, John was a merry man with a handsome, honest face and green eyes that shone with youthful mischief whenever he was with his brother or York cousins. A head of brown curls (much like Warwick's) crowned his head and unlike many noblemen, he sported no beard but a clean-shaven chin he liked to stroke when he thought.

He was a kind man, a family man with six children and a wife as sweet as the honey bread the Queen liked for breakfast! Isabella she was called and was the replacement for Margaret once she'd left for Burgundy.

John was a York to the core, in fact, Constance was sure that if she were to open his chest she would find a white rose carved on his heart. In some ways he was more York than Neville but she didn't plan on speaking that thought aloud, not if she wanted to keep the love of one of England's greatest families!

"John!" She greeted, returning his nod "And of course, Dickon!" The young Duke grinned at her "What brings you here, my friends? I thought we were to meet at Tamworth? Has something happened?" She knew from the looks the two men gave one another that something had indeed happened and felt her stomach sink before her heart began to beat with panic.

"Edward is well" John reassured her, able to aptly read her thoughts just as his brother could but he did not smile again and nor did Dickon.

"But what is not?" She asked and the men exchanged another uneasy glance. They did not want to tell her, she realised. Her eyes flicked between them when they remained silent and she motioned for Marie to come to her, coaxing the little girl away from her fascination with Dickon's horse "Little love, come here" the Princess obeyed, sidling to her Mother and taking her hand.

What was wrong with her Uncle Dickon, she wondered. He rarely failed to greet her and his face was practically a storm, albeit a worried one!
"What is it, ma mère?" She asked quietly, pressing herself to her Mother's skirts but all the answer she received was a gentle pat on her hair that told her quietness was needed.

Constance once again looked between the two men and her face suddenly hardened. She hated unanswered questions, they grated her nerves to shreds and in the middle of the countryside with an eerie breeze, once soothing, she would not stand for their silence.

"I may be your family and your friend but I am also your Queen and you will answer me when I question you, my Lords"

"We are to ride with you" Dickon answered, his voice deeply grave "There is a rebellion, a Robin of Redesdale" Constance's heart sunk. A rebellion? Ever since 1464 the country had been relatively quiet, so much so she'd begun to hope the peace would last! Was it Lancaster?

Of course, who else could it be? She turned to John for more information only to see him looking more defeated than his cousin.

"Someone is paying the men, Con. They have strong new boots and this is my brother Richard's country"

The Queen felt her breath catch in her throat and suddenly ushered her daughter back to their carriage, helping her up the wooden steps to her seat where she was sternly told to stay. She paused for a moment, leaning against the carriage door when it was shut.

'This is Richard's country'
What on earth could that mean? Surely that meant she and Marie were safe from the rebels and Edward too for they would not dare to intrude into such a fervent Yorkist's lands! Would they?

Walking back to her kin, her steps were heavy and she was surprised to feel minute raindrops upon her skin, finding the sky had become dark with clouds. God she hated the rain, it was cold and it was sad. Gulping, she looked to Dickon, finding she suddenly had to avoid John's eye.

"It is certain" The young man asserted grimly, now a note of betrayal to his voice that Constance feared at once "there are thousands of men marching under Warwick's command. We must go to Edward at once, it appears our cousin is Kingmaking again"

The words knocked the breath from her body and she stared up at the two men in disbelief.

"No" She murmured, placing her hands on her hips, the satin beneath her fingers no balm to the shock of stinging lighting that seemed to have struck her "No" She said again "That can't be! Richard is loyal! He is loyal to us!"

"It seems my brother could take the rack of the Woodville court no longer" That was John speaking and she momentarily raised her head, green eyes meeting in a look of painful suspicion. Did you know? She wanted to ask Did you know about this? But she could not. How could she ask that of John? Sweet, kind loyal John who would not abandon York if they burned down his castle!

Of course, she'd thought the same of Richard....she still thought the same of Richard. He would not rebel against Edward, agains her it was impossible, the very notion was madness! Ever since the day she'd met him he had supported her, comforted her, loved her and never once reproached her for lack of a male heir.

Ambition was a viable option for the Earl, rebellion was not. It couldn't be true....

"Take me to Ned" She commanded and nodded when she found John had already ordered a horse for her, reigned and saddled "Dickon, take care of my little love" A guard lifted her onto the white stallion's back, arranging her skirts while the Duke of Gloucester rode forward.

"Always" He promised and Constance nodded to John before they galloped away, the sound of Marie's giggles at Dickon's appearance by the carriage ringing in her ears.

At least she was happy.

༻᯽༺

"Constance!"
"Edward!"

Constance jumped from her horse when she saw Edward running from the doors of Tamworth castle. The ground below was in its dark shadow but she could still see every inch of her beloved husband and relished the warmth of his embrace when he took her into his arms.

The world around them became still for a moment as they stood before the drawbridge, his strong hand moving aside the veil of her hennin so he could touch the soft strands of hair hidden beneath.

It had been but two days since they'd last been together but then, while they were in one another's arms, it felt like they'd been parted an eternity.
"My love" She felt whispered against her neck and could hear the anguish in his voice. So it was true.

Pulling away she placed a gentle hand to his cheek, forcing a tender smile onto her face. He looked tired, the purple crescents under his eyes said so, but not only that, there was something in his air, something in the way his shoulders slumped when usually he held them back to accentuate his height.

Suddenly, his great aura of majesty seemed not to matter to him, all that did was the crushing sense of betrayal and disbelief eating at his heart like a corrosive disease. She could see it in his eyes that he could not believe it of his cousin who was as dear as a brother and she could also see the pain that made him flinch when he watched John Neville pass.

"Is he still loyal to us?" He questioned once the man was out of earshot and Constance pulled him close with a definite nod, standing upon the tips of her toes to winds locks of his hair between her fingers "Where is our darling daughter?"

"With Dickon....where is your son?"
It was a question he knew was meant to distract him, in any other situation she wouldn't have asked, but he placed an arm around her waist, turning to the castle walls.

He pointed to a window high above their heads, one in the curved shape Constance liked, they made her think of romance, of the gardens at the Châteaux de Moulins growing underneath her chamber window. Beneath the diamond panes of glass the Queen could just make out a head full of blonde curls and a smile so like Edward's that she would have smiled in return had she not known who it was.

Arthur.

Edward raised an arm, waving merrily to the boy who waved back while Constance simply stared. Despite her resentment of him, she could not deny she wished that he was her son, her boy, her Prince to see her duty as Queen filled and her husband secure. That factor was even more critical than before now there were rumblings of rebellion shaking the country and yet, when she put a hand to her belly, she knew no life stirred within.

Perhaps it never would again.

"Come, my Lord" She suddenly ordered, taking Edward's hand and dragging him away from the view of the window; into the castle where red brick towers stood tall above them.

Soon enough he began to grumble, his at first discontented murmurings turning to raging shouts in mere seconds. Moments later he was the one leading, tugging her up up up winding flights of stone steps spiralling into the castle like alabaster vines.

"I knew that Richard was angry about the marriage to Burgundy!" He yelled when John joined them "but never did I imagine he would raise his own army against me! He has betrayed me and so has George!"
"George?" Constance cried, surely he had not followed Warwick's lead into treachery? God help them all if he had.

"He has married Isabel against my clear command in Calais! Richard's plan must be to put George on the throne instead of me!"
"But that is madness!"
"Exactly" Edward raged, tugging her up yet more steps "it is madness and we must scotch it before it's disease spreads across England!"

Coming to a small hallway, he threw open a door where a large study lay, one oak table in the centre with papers and markers strewn all over it. Some were scattered to the floor along with a few smashed pots, the evidence of Edward's anger. The three strode inside, Constance's hand still firmly clasped in her husband's as he brought her to the table where a map of England lay.

"Are you sure?" She asked, one last hope of a reprieve in her heart but Edward only grumbled again.
"I am sure of nothing!" He retorted, snatching up a quill and dipping it in ink; beginning to draw crosses where Warwick's forces were.

John and Constance watched, glancing uneasily at each other while the King worked "We have always stood shoulder to shoulder on the battlefield" He grunted "at the battle of Mortimer's cross there were three suns in the sky" His voice suddenly rose again and he threw down the quill "Three suns! Everyone said it was a sign for me, George and Richard, the three sons of York, so how can one brother betray the other?!"

His curled fists landed on the desk with a harsh thud and she flinched, though was not deterred in the least.

"I think it's best you leave us" She murmured to John who was already halfway over the threshold, shutting the door firmly behind him. Tearing her gaze to Edward she watched his chest heave with anger and slowly sidled over to him, pushing his strong figure away from the table so she could stand between him and it.

"I don't know what to do" He confessed when she cupped his face, bringing her gaze to his "George is saying that I am a bastard....that the old story about my legitimacy is true....that he is the real York heir" a small gasp left Constance's parted lips. She had always known George was arrogant but never never did she imagine him capable of something such as this!

"You....you will win" She told him gently "You will be the warrior King England knows you to be and you will scotch this snakes nest before it comes out of the ground" a soft kiss was pressed to his lips "I know you Edward....you are my husband, my King, my love. And you are stronger than all of Warwick's armies for you are God's King and the people of England love you"

He stared down at her, the tears in his eyes drying until they were replaced with a clouded form of adoring lust that made Constance's stomach jump. Now was not the time for passion, now was not the time for loving embraces, now was the time for thinking and planning.

And yet, it seemed so right as he reached up and plucked the hennin from her head, slid the metal pins holding her hair away until it fell loose about her shoulders. Winding a fistful around his hand he held it up, brushing his cheek with the silken strands and inhaling the scent of jasmine encasing them.

"Thank God for you" He breathed, letting the locks of dark hair slip through his fingers like grains of sand on a beach. Edward took up her wrist next, a small smirk on his lips as he began to untie the laces of her sleeves, loosening them bit by bit "how is it I have allowed you to wear so many clothes? What is the point of being King if I cannot keep you naked all day"

His voice was different now, husky with lust, though she wondered where he would spend it in the cluttered chamber they stood in. With each inch of skin that was revealed, he kissed her body, pressing his lips to the pulse in her wrists before he turned her around and tried to unlace the back of her gown.

Constance refused to comply, spinning back and taking his doublet in her hands, forcing it from his shoulders before she pulled his shirt over his head.

The linen was still warm from the heat of his body but it soon turned cold, discarded along with his velvet doublet as Edward pulled his wife towards him.
"My hungry little Queen" He murmured when he kissed her neck and took the opportunity to reach for her gown once more, almost ripping the delicate laces in his haste to have her undressed.

This time she helped him, pushing her gown from her shoulders to her waist while their mouths pressed together, hot and burning for one another's touch. Her hands pulled at his breeches, pushing them down with such force she was sure they would rip but Edward seemed not to care, more preoccupied with sweeping the table behind her free of paper and quill.

"Lie down" He told her huskily while he kicked his boots and breeches away, watching with a slackened jaw while she lay back on the table. The polished wood was cold against her skin but she cared not, simply spread her legs for Edward and held out a hand.

"Come to me, my love" She beckoned, coaxing him into her embrace and groaning when he began to slide his hands up her thighs, hiking up her skirts while she pulled her arms from her shift, baring her breasts to him. Edward immediately bent his head, taking one stiff nipple into his mouth and sucking, grazing it with his teeth to make her cry "Ned..."

She grabbed onto fistfuls of his golden hair, keeping him at her breast so that he could not move to the other when he wanted, not until he grabbed her wrists, pinning her body beneath his; against the wood. Constance welcomed him between her thighs, feeling his fingers trail to her centre and push inside of her while his thumb stroked her clit. He pushed his chest against hers, desperate for contact, for love only she could provide.

"Con...." He moaned when she tugged her wrists from his grip, training one down his toned chest to his cock which she guided between her legs.

"Take me" She whispered, placing wet kisses along his jawline "Take me Edward" he did as she asked, thrusting into her with a lust that had both of them moaning as loudly as they dared. He grasped her hips, pulling her towards him when she sat up, wrapping her arms around him and trying to move her hips in time with his.

It was a feat that proved impossible and it was not long before she let him take the lead, slamming his hips against hers while they kissed with reckless abandon.

Their kisses were a wild mess of tongues and teeth, kisses of the young lovers they'd once been and still could be if it were not for the grasping hands of duty and power. Still, they melted into them as they did one another and Constance cried out when Edward slid a hand between them, rubbing her clit until she came undone in his arms.

He quickly followed and their chests heaved, hot and heavy against one another.
"I've missed you" Edward gasped, burying his face in her neck and all she could do was nod, relishing the feeling of his hands on her bare thighs, stroking above her stockings.

"And I you" She breathed, only then wondering what on earth she would do if they were caught. In all honesty, she had lost most of the shyness she'd arrived at the marriage bed with, it had been spirited away by Edward and his love of her body "You are my very heart Ned Plantagenet and I ache when you are not inside of me" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Would you like me to be now?" He asked and when she looked down she almost laughed to see he was hard again "Perhaps we shall conceive on this table!" She had been about to nod but his words made all the lust flee from her body and she suddenly found herself pushing her passionate husband away.

His eager hands tried to catch her but she was like a breath of air, close enough to be felt but never caught. She sat on the edge of the table with her back to him while trying to pull up her shift and gown with a sinking heart.

"What are you doing?" Edward asked, his tone almost amused when he moved to sit beside her but she only stood and fixed her gown, trying to arrange her hair into a braid "Constance?" She made no move to turn to him nor to answer him even when he stood, his firm hands taking her by the shoulders; turning her "Connie what have I said?"

She refused to look at him, taking instead to tying the laces of her sleeves "Sweetheart?" His voice was softer now and his hands cupped her face, tilting it up so she finally looked at him with eyes filled by stinging tears "Mon amour what have I said?"

"I cannot do it....you know I cannot...."
"Cannot what, Connie?"

"Give you any more children" She muttered in a broken whisper that tugged at Edward's heart. He gathered her into his arms and she broke into tears "I can't do it, my love, I can't give you a son!"
"Shh, mon amour" He soothed, stroking her hair "You are my wife and Queen and we will have sons, I know we will...." Constance only sighed.

"How many babes will God rip from my womb before he is satisfied?"