𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 || 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝐿𝑋𝑉

~Blood is Thicker Than Water~

Constance didn't allow her children to retire to their own rooms that night, she had them sleep in her bedchamber, in her great bed, a knife under her pillow and Edward next to their boys. She wasn't sure if any of them slept but neither did they speak, choosing to stare silently into the gloom of the night, perhaps looking for more devils seeking them.

When the first rays of morning light began to peek through the windows (they hadn't bothered to close the shutters), Neddy slipped from the bed and padded over quietly to the fire, wrapping one of his Father's great fur cloaks around his shoulders. Marie and Dickon soon followed and their parents sat up, resting against the headboard.

The children's nurses arrived at breakfast but both Edward and Constance did not want theirs, preferring the warmth of their bed to the coldness of the outside world.

"What is to be done?" She murmured, gently intertwining their hands. Edward gulped, casting his gaze to the covers. He disliked George, hated him some of the time, but he couldn't forget the boy he'd known, nor the man he sometimes was; that they were bound by blood.

"What can I do?" He asked "He will be brought to trial and...." He hesitated, exhaling a shaking breath "he will be sentenced to die"
"Die...." Constance repeated, though she'd expected as much, she'd wanted it to be so the previous night.

"He threatened our children, he threatened you, he pulled a knife on me, his King, he injured James, not to mention the crimes he committed with his sorcerer and the murder of Isabel's Lady in waiting. He has committed high treason....again. This time, I cannot turn a blind eye...."

"Your Mother...."
"Don't" He whispered "Do not make me think of her more than I am doing so at this moment"
"It will break her heart...."
"I know"

He sharply pulled away, sitting at the side of the bed, hunched over, head resting on his hands. It sounded as though she were defending George but all her words were in thought of Cecily, her beloved Mother. She had already suffered so much loss and another son taken by his brother? Could even one of her strength take such a thing?

༻᯽༺

Constance raised her eyebrows as she entered her brother's bedchamber. He was sitting shirtless by the fire, a bandage winding around his torso and binding his shoulder, a book in one hand, a glass of strong wine in the other.

"Are you sure you should be drinking, Jamie?" He looked up smiling as she sat opposite him "and should you not have your attendants with you?"

"They would only fuss as they have been doing all night" He returned, snapping the book shut and placing it on the table beside him "I prefer to rest alone unless, of course, it is you who wishes to keep me company. I would have come to see you were well but the servants said you were still abed with the King"