𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑋𝑋𝑋𝐼

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~Once High, Brought Low~

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~Once High, Brought Low~

October 1470, Westminster Palace....

The Tower of London was arguably the securest fortress in England, bearing walls fifteen feet thick and soldiers trained to give their lives for those inside but still, the Queen refused to step through its armoured gates.

It would be like stepping into a nest of snakes with the Woodvilles occupying the halls and Constance was determined that her son should not even breathe the same air as they did, nor Marie who would gladly throw her half brothers (not that she ever called them thus) from the nearest window!

It had been the King's idea - to protect his children bastard or legitimate - and his Queen didn't resent him for that but she wouldn't suffer Elizabeth's presence for the sake of war or any other reason!

Edward would fight, Edward would win and return to her, she had no need to lock herself away, she thought, and reminded herself of that every day. She did so again as she sat by the fire of her bedchamber one evening, using the flickering amber flames to light the patterns her nimble fingers embroidered flowers onto cream silk.

Roses, lilacs, lilies decorated the fabric and with one firm tug on her needle, another York rose was completed.When she was done, her son would have a new little gown to wear!

Three of her ladies sat opposite her, each attending to their own needlework with their long hair resting down their backs; allowed to be loose in the presence of their Queen. Yes, she thought, tying off her string of white thread, they were safe within the walls of Westminster until Edward's return.

She prayed each day that would be soon!

It had only been two weeks since Edward left London to quell the traitors in the North but to Constance it felt an eternity. She craved word from her husband, a letter, a note, even just a few spoken words from a courier to assure her of his safety.

Of course she worried every time he left to face foes but this time was different because of their children, because of their son. Everything was different because of their son.

A small grizzle made her look to the cradle set by her side so she could keep watch and the fire could warm the babe. Prince Edward slept soundly, much to her delight, making a soft smile curve her lips as she watched him; curled up, sweet and soft. Innocent.

"There, my love" Reaching into the crib, she tucked the blankets he lay bound in beneath his little chin. Edward yawned, his little mouth puckering into a small O before he settled again.

"Is the Prince well?"

"He is" Constance answered, smiling at Isabella "He grows stronger with each passing day" She chuckled quietly "As Marie ever reminds me! She hardly leaves his side"

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 || 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵Where stories live. Discover now