~𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖞𝖆𝖑 𝖎𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌~
Born the youngest daughter of Charles I, Duke of Bourbon, Constance of Bourbon grows up amidst comfort and splendour on her powerful family's estates in France. A shy child, she prefers her...
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~The Freedom of Choice~
9th of June 1484, Middleham Castle, England....
"Come, sweetheart....speak to me" Constance murmured, stroking Aliénor's hair as she sat by her in the castle's nursery, nestled together in the window seat. Aliénor drew, she painted, she gave cuddles and kisses and often had her little hands intertwined with her sisters or her Mother's - but she did not speak.
Not one word. Not one syllable.
She was wearing a soft pink gown with white embroidery, Constance had kept to her word and made new gowns for each of her girls, but even though Aliénor been delighted, not a word had passed her lips.
"Please...." Constance whispered but the nine year old shook her head, keeping her eyes fixated on the brightly coloured pages of her Bible "Please, my love, it is your birthday! Shall you not speak to me?" At last Aliénor looked up but her rosebud lips remained sealed as she sat up a little and pressed a kiss to her Mother's cheek.
That was all and she returned to her book. Tears pricked Constance's eyes. Why would her little girl not speak to her? To her, her Mother? Aliénor had grown in her womb, taken her first breaths in her arms, been be purest of delights after the sorrow of little Edmund's death and yet, the Woodvilles had stolen her voice and she could not regain it.
Nodding slowly, Constance drew a small velvet purse from her sleeve and placed it in the girl's lap. Aliénor's hands curled around it, gently loosening the top; allowing her fingers to dip inside. After a few moments, she pulled them out, a handkerchief of white linen between them, bearing beautiful flowers around the border, including York roses with streaming suns.
In the corner, stitched in purple thread lay two letters, perfectly intertwined. A and E. Edward and Aliénor.
"So that you and your Father may always be close" Her Mother said and Aliénor exhaled a shaking breath, nodding before looking to her again, pressing another kiss to her cheek in thanks "I wish that I could heap jewels and gowns upon you as your Father and I used to but I have them not. Happy birthday, my sweet love"
Giving her hair one last gentle stroke and kiss, she rose, slowly walking across the chamber, until she reached the door; turned back in the hope to see her daughter smile one of her rare smiles but she was fixated once more on the pages before her.
Constance sighed, her heart sinking as it always did when she left her darling girl and stepped onto the stairs leading from the nursery, travelling down, down, each step becoming heavier as the seconds passed and she reached the bottom of the empty stairwell and the small space between it and the corridor, separated by a small stone archway.
