~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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~ Castles Made of Sand~
21st of June 1484, Westminster Palace, London....
"Arthur! Arthur!"
He woke with a start, shaken by his Mother who stood over him, golden hair loose, face contorted with anger. He glanced at the windows. There was not a trace of light to be seen through the shutters.
"What time is it?" He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes as he settled back into the pillows, heart hammering in his chest. He could hear it, he could feel it.
"Time for you to rise!" His Mother replied shortly, pulling his arm away "There is news from the North, urgent news and you must hear it now for there is no time!" Forcing his eyes to remain open, Arthur sighed, reluctantly sitting up a little for he knew his Mother would not let him rest until she'd said her piece. Urgent news, he thought, that could be anything in Elizabeth's mind.
"What is it then, Lady Mother? What is so urgent that you have awoken your King?" They had certainly not been on the best of terms since their fray the previous month and his tone was scathed with sarcasm. She sighed, irritated, eyes dark. "Constance and Richard have taken Middleham"
His heart dropped like a stone in a well, sinking fast to the pit of his stomach, stealing his breath.
It was urgent.
"Taken it?" He exclaimed, sitting up more "What on earth do you mean?" "I have just had it from a messenger and by morning the whole court shall know!" "What happened? You said your son had all under control!"
"Four days ago, in the dead of night!" She hissed "The Scropes brought their men and the castle was taken! Constance and Richard now control it and there is rumour of rebellion spreading like wildfire across the North! It is said the people are rising for them, for her son!"
"Sweet Christ" He murmured, flinging back the bed covers and snatching his purple robe from the end, throwing it on before he began to pace, his Mother doing the same. He never strayed close enough for her to touch him.
"What of Grey? Is he alive?" His heart was thumping even harder now, panic flooding his veins as his mind processed it, each second worst than the last as he awoke further and realised what such a thing entailed. It was happening. They were coming and he would have to fight. The sand in his hour glass of life had almost all trickled away....
"I do not know" Elizabeth replied, voice now quaking, arms crossed as she shook her head "My poor boy...." Ah, so now she cared about her children, he thought.
