~Barnet~

Goodbyes were always painful.

They meant absence, loneliness, the departure of a loved one without the promise of seeing them again; a final declaration of love in case they were never seen again.

They meant danger - at least to Constance.

Edward was King again but she did not feel like a Queen, how could she when another was approaching English shores and would land any moment?

She remembered the words young Anne Neville had once said to her in the summer of 1466, when she'd still been too young to understand their meaning.

"They say they are three Queens of England" She'd recited, making a daisy chain at Constance's skirts "One in exile, the second barren, the third without a crown"

Well, her two healthy children (particularly her son) certainly disproved any rumour of barrenness and Elizabeth was locked beneath the country's greatest Abbey but those facts did nothing to diminish the danger the third Queen posed.

She was a lioness leading her pride, sharpening her claws to protect her only cub and she was dangerous.

Warwick was dangerous too Constance thought as she entered hers and Edward's tower chambers, warm beneath her furred robe. He would leave on the morrow to face his old mentor and the might of Lancaster and, despite the heat of the room, she shivered.

A large fire bloomed in the hearth, engulfing the logs a pageboy regularly thrust in to heat the water brought up from the kitchens. Before the flames, the King was stretched out languidly in a wooden tub, elbows resting on the side, beads of water dripping from his skin, eyes closed. Ribbons of steam danced from the hot surface and his head lolled back contentedly on the carved edge, the wood cushioned with white linen.

He sighed as the page poured another jug of water into the tub, rolling his muscled shoulders into the warm cradle of relaxation. In a few hours, he would be gone from the Tower, gone from London, that was his plan. Advance in dark, attack at dawn. It would perhaps give the Yorkists the upper hand they needed against the superior Lancastrian numbers and by God they needed that.

"Your grace" The pageboy greeted when he saw the Queen lingering in the doorway, offering a deep bow and a smile curved Edward's lips, though he didn't open his eyes.

"Leave us" He murmured with a wave of his hand and the boy bowed again, placing down his empty metal jug before scurrying away, closing the chamber door softly behind him. Watching her husband, Constance slowly made her way over to the fireplace and Edward finally opened his eyes, his smile widening when he saw her.

"So, my Lady, you've come to prepare me for battle?" He asked as she knelt by his side, bestowing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Hush, my Lord" She whispered, smoothing back the damp pieces of flaxen hair from his forehead "Do not let us ruin our last hours with talk of war" He chuckled quietly and his eyes found hers, damp fingers coming up to trail along her jaw.
"Then join me, sweetheart, and let us just be Ned and Connie"

"Ned and Connie" She repeated with a smile, she liked the sound of that. Not a King, not a Queen, just two people who loved one another and always would. They didn't need to say goodbye just yet.

Standing, she shrugged the robe from her shoulders, the heavy velvet landing in a heap at her feet while she reached for the ties of her nightgown, tugging until the soft linen floated from her frame. Edward's eyes wandered adoringly up and down her body, momentarily resting on the place where their children had grown before he held out a hand.

"Come" Interlacing their fingers, Constance allowed him to guide her into the bath, settling her on his lap with her back pressed against his chest. Cupping the water in his palms, he poured it over her skin, leaving gentle kisses on her neck and shoulders as he went "Do you remember when we first came to England, I braided your hair beneath a tree?"

"How could I forget?" She hummed, thinking of her first sunny morning on English soil when Edward's fingers had woven through her hair, gently plaiting it. It was a memory she held close to her heart "You made me feel safe in a land where I knew nothing and no one. I was fifteen. I was carrying James"

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, taking her hands.

"Our sweet boy" He murmured into her hair "Our first son, we will always remember him"
"It has been too long since I visited him" Constance sighed, thinking of his little grave at Baynards.

"Then it shall be the first thing we do when I return victorious" Edward replied "Now" Reaching over the side of the tub, he picked up the metal jug his page had left and dipped it into the water "let us just be Ned and Connie. Tip your head back, sweetheart"

She did as he asked, smiling when he poured the warm water over her hair, the dark strands weighing heavy down her back "C'est tellement long!" 'It's so long!' Edward mused, collecting more water and her smile widened.

"Quand j'étais petite, j'ai juré à mon père que je le ferais pousser jusqu'à mes pieds!" 'When I was a girl I swore to my Father I would grow it to my feet!' His deep laughter filled the room and she couldn't help but giggle herself, pushing her hair behind her shoulders when he poured the second jug over it. She often wondered what her Father would make of Edward were he there and did so again as she glanced over to where her rosary lay on the nearby bed.

In his gift from many years ago, he would always be with her.

Would he approve of the match? Would he be fond of Edward? Would her Father have married her to him in the first place? She'd always heavily doubted it, Edward's hand would've likely gone to her sister Joanna as the elder and she would've been kept at home to bloom into a young woman.

She hoped her dear Father could see she'd found happiness even if it was pricked with painful thorns at times.

"Soon" Edward murmured from behind and she realised one of her hands had drifted to her belly "Le gémissement d'un bébé York nouveau-né ne sera pas loin de maintenant, Con" 'The wail of a newborn York babe shall not be far from now, Con'

"Je l'espère sincèrement!" I dearly hope so!' She replied, humming contentedly as he began to massage sweet smelling oils into her scalp, the gentleness of his hands the same surprise as always "Je veux avoir une crèche pleine de fils et de filles et maintenant j'ai Edward, eh bien, pensez-vous que Dieu nous refusera plus d'enfants?" 'I want to have a nursery full of sons and daughters and now I have Edward, well, do you think God shall deny us more children?'

"Pourquoi devrait-il le faire?" 'Why should he?' Edward asked "Le monde n'a-t-il pas besoin d'une autre Marie? Seigneur, la fille me fait rire! Vous auriez dû voir le regard qu'elle a lancé à George quand il a proposé de tenir Edward!" 'Does the world not need another Marie? Lord, the girl makes me laugh! You should've seen the look she gave George when he offered to hold Edward!'

"Une grande horreur j'imagine?" 'One of great horror I imagine?' Constance quipped and he nodded, a grin spreading across his lips at the memory.

"Le plus grand! Je pense qu'elle aurait dit à mon cher frère de se faire foutre si Richard n'était pas intervenu!" 'The greatest! I think she would've told my dear brother to fuck off had Richard not intervened!'
"Ah, elle a appris ça de Will, n'est-ce pas?" 'Ah, she's learnt that from Will, hasn't she?'

"Elle a" 'She has!' He chuckled "Et du reste de ma bande d'exilés, nous n'avions pas exactement la plus polie des langues autour des enfants" 'And from the rest of my band of exiles, we didn't exactly have the politest of tongues around the children'

"Before or after I arrived!" Constance giggled "It's a wonder Marie isn't swearing like a sailor by now!"
"I think she probably is, sweetheart, she simply does it in her pretty little head! Did you know she's determined to teach Edward his first word?"

"She's only told me every morning, noon and night before she says her prayers!" Their daughter was certainly a determined thing "When baby speaks, it shall be by my hand!" She recited and Edward laughed, pouring more water over her hair to wash away the excess oils.

"That is what she tells me too!"
"That is what she tells all! She does adore him so!"
It was a fact both Constance and Edward would never cease to find adorable - the love young Marie had for her brother. She was his greatest protector and the two could only imagine what she would be like when more siblings came along!

With her hair washed, Constance settled back into Edward's loving embrace, relishing the way his strong arms cradled her. She didn't know how long they lay their, talking, kissing, basking in each other's company, but eventually the water began to cool and the Tower clock chimed for the third time.

"Sweetheart...."
"Don't" She murmured, nuzzling into his neck "Just five more minutes" She could almost feel him smile.
"That is what you have said for the past hour, my love, and the longer we wait, the less time I have to outmanoeuvre Lancaster"

With a groan, she finally moved and they rose from the bath, the pitter patter of falling water droplets filling their ears "Dry yourself, Con" Edward said, grasping one of the nearby towels laid out for him and wrapping it around her body "When you're dressed I shall call for my squires then have ma Mère bring the children"

"They won't be pleased at being woken!" She teased, patting the water from her arms and legs "Or Edward may not be if he sleeps, Marie will simply be happy to see you"

Soon, she was dressed and the King's squires arrived, bringing with them the loud clank of armour and rattle of chainmail.

Constance reclined on the bed while they readied her husband, a book in hand though she barely flicked through the colourful pages. After a while she took up her rosary, reciting prayers in her head as Edward was transformed from her husband into a beast of shining black metal. He would appear the angel of death on the battlefield and when the King's crown was placed upon his head, Constance couldn't imagine a stronger man.

He was born to be King and King he would remain, she thought, looking to to the door when it opened and Cecily entered, little Edward cradled in one arm, Marie holding onto her free hand.

She, along with Beth, Anne, Katherine and Isabella had returned from Baynards to the Queen's side as soon as they heard she and Edward had returned to London and Constance's heart warmed at the sight of her dear Mother in law, especially with her Grandchildren.

"Thank you, Mother" She said as the squires filtered out and Cecily ushered Marie towards the fireplace before walking to the bed where she placed Edward into his Mother's arms "Ah, hello my love" Constance cooed, surprised at how awake the little boy was at such a late hour. He sat up happily in her embrace, clapping his chubby hands as he stared around the chamber.

"Father!" Marie giggled and Edward grinned, scooping his young daughter easily up from the floor into his arms.

"Hello, perle de mon monde, how fare you this night?" 'Pearl of my world'
"Well, thank you!" She replied sweetly "Grandmère has been telling us tales of Grandfather! He sounds wonderful!"

"Ah!" Edward chuckled, smiling at his Mother whose cornflower blue eyes were filled with reminiscence "He was a great man and he would've been an even greater King"
"How has little Edward been?" Constance asked "I trust he hasn't seen fit to make you deaf?"

"Not at all!" Cecily laughed "He has been naught but a perfect Prince as always and Marie sets him a fine example!" Marie tilted her chin up proudly and smiled as her Grandmother kissed her fondly on the forehead before kissing her son's cheek "I wish to see you back before sundown on the morrow, Ned" It was a love-laced order, made all the more tender when her slender hands cupped his face "I have lost too many, I will not lose another"

"No you will not" Edward reassured her with a smile "I am quick, I am brave and I am lucky, I will win!"
"You will win with God's guidance, my son" After gazing at his face for a moment longer, Cecily took her leave and didn't look back, closing the door softly behind her.

Constance had no doubt she'd be going to the chapel as she rose from the bed and walked to the fire where Edward had now set Marie on her feet and the little girl peered up at him, wide eyed.
"Do you have to go?"
With a small smile, he went down on one knee, tucking his gauntlets into his belt before his hands came to rest on her slender shoulders.

"I do" He admitted softly, tilting his head when Marie's lower lip quivered a little "but I will come home, keep you safe"

"Do you promise?" She asked and her Father smiled
"Upon my honour, little one"
Marie nodded, throwing herself into his arms; smiling when he clasped her tight.
"You will come back" She chanted to herself "You will come back!"

"Will you come back?" Constance asked when he let their daughter go and rose to his feet. He arched an eyebrow, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
"Of course I will, Connie. With your prayers and love at my side, how could I not?" A pretty blush painted it's way across her cheeks and Edward winked "Now, where is our little warrior Prince?"

"Here" She said, detaching baby Edward from her embrace and passing him to his Father "Our Prince of Wales" She tucked his blankets around him.
"He's still so small!" Marie cooed, taking her Mother's hand and Edward laughed, chucking his little boy gently under the chin.

"Hardly! Are you lad?" He murmured "you're getting stronger by the day!" And he was right, there seemed not a day where the little Prince didn't grow (at least to his parent's eyes) and at nine months old he was as healthy as they could've hoped!

"He will miss you" Constance added, stroking over her son's soft golden curls "We all will"
"And I will miss you....come here" Within moments, the little family by the fire was bound as one, the two children encircled in the gentle embrace of their parents "I love you all so very much"
"As we love you"

For a minute or so they stood there and then Constance tucked the children into her bed, bestowing  soft kisses to their cheeks before she followed Edward from their bedchamber. The castle was alive with movement, soldiers rushing back and forth, horses whinnying in the courtyard.

Edward's destrier was saddled and armoured for him when he arrived and he took the reins from his squire with a nod before turning to Constance. The animal nuzzled affectionately into his shoulder and she smiled, cupping his face to lean their forehead's together.

"Come back to me, my Edward"
He nodded, crushing his lips to hers as she pressed herself against him, holding him as close as she could for one more precious moment before fate forced him away.

"I will always come back to you, Connie" He whispered "Always" Now it was her turn to nod.
"I know....I know you will"

"Edward?" At the sound of Will's voice, they reluctantly broke apart and looked to the redheaded man "It's time"

"It's time" His King repeated and glanced back to Constance. How beautiful she was, he thought, how beautiful and loyal and clever and....perfect. His heart suddenly swelled with love and he pulled her close, pressing kisses to her hair and face until he knew he had to go - for her sake "I will come back to you" He whispered and she nodded again, stinging tears filling her eyes as she watched him put on his gauntlets and hoist himself onto his destrier.

She didn't want him to go; could feel her fingers itching to snatch him back into her embrace.
"Goodbye" She called up to him and he grinned down at her, suddenly the boy she'd met in her homeland.
"This isn't goodbye, Connie" He told her "I shall be returned for dinner tomorrow"

By God she hoped he would be.

༻᯽༺

"Keep my son safe and in your love, my Lord, shine your grace upon him and deliver him victory, Amen"

"Amen" Constance repeated as she and Cecily finished another prayer for Edward's safety and victory. They'd been in the Tower chapel since dawn broke and, while their legs were numb from kneeling so long, each time they tried to tend to another task they found themselves unable to complete them because of worry.

And so, in the chapel they stayed, praying over and over for each of their loved ones.

The sun was high in the sky, right at its peak, so they knew the battle had begun, if it was not over already. Waiting was a torture but it was all they could do and Constance crossed herself, clasping her hands in prayer again to plead with the Lord for the safety of her husband.

"Please, God, she whispered, please, please....agh!" She cried out, pain shooting through her heart that made her collapse to the cold marble beneath. It spread through the veins, rendering them useless and her mind whirled, two words, one name, filling it to the brim until it felt fit to burst.

Richard Neville.

Despite her hatred of the past months, the anger that raged through her whenever she thought of her old friend-turned enemy, the love she'd once borne for him came crashing down at the realisation he was dead.

She didn't know how she knew but her heart told her it was true, the unyielding pain that felt it would crack her heart in two even as Cecily laid her head on her lap, trying to soothe her.
"Connie! Connie, what is it, child? Connie, what is wrong?"

"He's dead!" The Queen wept, curling into herself "He's dead, Richard's dead" Cecily sucked in a sharp breath, freezing for a moment but then began to stroke Constance's hair, murmuring comforts to her.
"It was meant to be, my dear" She whispered "Ever since he betrayed Ned, he had to die....it was the path he chose and now it is complete, do not weep for those who wouldn't have wept for you"

"But he would've!" Constance cried, thinking only of the man she'd known at the beginning of her reign, the man who adored Marie and loved her as a daughter "I know it....I know it...." The Duchess sighed.

"Perhaps once, he was not himself by the end, I couldn't recognise my own nephew"
"Nor me my own Father" Constance murmured and broke into choked sobs again.

༻᯽༺

Barnet Battlefield....

"No! I told you to bring him to me! I ordered it! Your King ordered it!" Edward roared as he stormed across the field, his heart pounding in his chest, not from the threat of battle but from the news Hastings had brought to his ears.

That Warwick was dead.

The battle was tiering and hard fought but they'd won all the same and by then, his troops were rounding up the last men of Lancaster to slaughter. On the brink of the final wave of bloodshed, once Edward known he'd won the day, he'd sent out an order for Warwick to be brought in alive.

He didn't know why he'd done it, even as the words left his lips and he watched his men's eyes widen in surprise, he thought himself insane. Had he intended to execute Warwick as an example after the battle to show his power? Had he wanted to look at him one last time before he died? Had he even intended to spare him - an idea that would be ludicrous?

He didn't know, all he knew was when he learnt of his cousin's death a wave of anger and grief swept over him, so powerful it was almost as great as the grief he'd felt for his Father and brother. Even after all he'd done. He didn't mourn the man Warwick had become, he supposed, he mourned the man he'd known, his mentor, his brother....

There was a crowd of men surrounding the glade where he'd been told Warwick was slain. Perhaps one of them was the one who'd ended his life, he thought as he stared at each of their bloody forms, pushing past them.

"Move!" He yelled "Move for your King...." His angry words died away and he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of John Neville bent over his brother's body. One gauntleted hand was planted on the muddy earth, the other cradled his face, bloodied by the large gash across it. Warwick's armour was dented, drenched in the blood of his enemies and his own.

Edward glanced around the circle of men surrounding him, spotting both Richard and George, the former of which was staring at the Earl's body, almost in a trance as he clutched at his arm, blood running through the joints in his armour. George stared too, sadly before he turned away, his sword lying limp in his hand. For a second, his hand came to rest on Richard's shoulder, and then, he was gone.

After a moment, John looked up, his eyes glassy with tears and staring almost accusingly at the King. In the press of grief, Edward could more than understand the look.

"Is he...."
"He's dead, your grace" John said, sharply cutting the King off "Your enemy is dead...." He shook his head, letting it hang as a hot tear dropped down onto the dead Earl's body "As is another of my brothers" He whispered.