Westminster Palace, London
February 21st 1504
Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Derby, watched with satisfaction as the Infanta Catalina of Aragon passed her pew to kneel beside her to be husband: Arthur, Prince of Wales. It had taken over two years for King Ferdinand to agree to pay Catalina's dowry in full; it wasn't until the end of the Italian Wars - when he had no true excuse to keep the 200,000 ducats from them that he relented. Even then, the King of Aragon insisted he would pay 195,000 instead. To save his pride, no doubt.
Her son had agreed, after all they could hardly reject such an advantageous match over 5,000 ducats.
To Margaret's right was King Henry and Queen Elizabeth, whereas to her left was the royal children. William stood closest to her, as they were lined by precedence. Her second eldest grandchild was a handsome boy of five and ten, tall with curly, chin-length red-gold hair and dark brown eyes (eyes he shared with Margaret herself, which she was pleased with) whom was dressed in a charming navy doublet. The boy had done well in his lessons with his father and brother, excelling the King's eldest son at times, though his disposition was too much like his maternal grandfather for Margaret to ever wish him to be the Prince of Wales; lest England experience another Edward IV.
Young Harry was ten and three now, as handsome as his older brother, and would be attending Oxford next year. From there, he would no doubt go on to become Chancellor of the University of Oxford before being elevated to become a Bishop. Despite his reluctance to enter the church and envy of his older brothers, her favourite grandson had the wit and intelligence for a church career, and she was sure he would prosper in his career and further the Tudor influence in Rome. Meanwhile little Princess Mary Tudor would go onto become Queen of a united Spain via her arranged marriage to Charles of Burgundy.
Yes, the future was looking bright for her line.
Soon enough, Catalina and Arthur were repeating the Archbishop's words back to him - tying themselves to one another for better or for worse; in sickness and in health. When the ceremony was over with, the girl would no longer be allowed to use her Spanish name, instead she would be known to all as Princess Katherine of Wales, and most of her Spanish ladies would be sent back to their homeland. It was Margaret herself who had pushed for the foreign Ladies-In-Waiting to be expelled from Court. Arthur's bride still wore Spanish dresses, spoke with a heavy Spanish accents, engaged in Spanish activities; it made proud Margaret's lips curl. In two years time, Marguerite of Angouleme would arrive in England, and Margaret would ensure that she familiarised herself with the English customs swifter than Catalina had.
"May I introduce unto you, Prince Arthur of Wales and his wife, the Princess Katherine!" The Archbishop announced at the end of the ceremony, and Margaret clapped along with the rest.
Her grandson, the red haired Arthur and her golden haired granddaughter-in-law certainly made a striking couple, but it would all be for naught if they did not succeed in continuing the Tudor dynasty. Margaret's dynasty.
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"Henry Tudor, King of England, Ireland and France; Queen Elizabeth; My Lady the King's Mother, Lady Margaret Stanley; Prince Arthur of Wales; Princess Katherine of Wales; Prince William, Duke of York; Prince Henry, Duke of Bedford and the Princess Mary of England," the herald announced to the hall as the royal family filed in. The courtiers clapped to their arrival - specifically to the newly wed Arthur and Katherine - as they made their way towards the dais. The Prince and Princess of Wales would take the seats for guests of honour, whilst the rest of the family took their usual places.
The King swiftly clapped for the musicians to begin playing, and they obeyed, filling the room with fast-beat, cheery tunes. William Tudor watched as his oldest brother and his wife moved from their seats to begin dancing upon the floor. His brother's movements were quick and elegant, mirrored by Katherine's grand ones; spinning and twirling around the dance floor. After an appropriate amount of time had passed, more couples began to join them.
The Duke of York heard an unsubtle cough from his mother's left and turned to his younger sister in amusement.
"Are you unwell, Mary? Perhaps you must retire from the feast," he teased with a small smirk as his sister glowered at him. His mother's lips turned up slightly at the interaction, whilst King Henry's remained trained upon his eldest son.
"I am very well, brother," the light-haired girl told him, unamused, "though I would be better if my feet were upon the dance floor rather than on this dais. If only there were a certain Prince who could help me with that matter..."
"I know not of such a Prince, Your Highness, perhaps you mean Prince Henry?" the Duke of York said, shooting a look to where his younger brother sat glaring off into the distance.
"Nay," Mary told him with a huff, "Harry is too busy being bitter that Arthur gets to marry a beautiful Princess whereas he does not."
It was true. His younger brother had been in a foul mood in the lead up to the wedding, which only got worse when the King announced that Marguerite would be joining them at Court in April 1506. Personally, William didn't understand why Henry was making a fuss about it. The Duke of York did not want to get married - especially to some foreign daughter of a Duke that was just going to be forced on him. He didn't care how pretty people said that she was; he just wanted to ride and hunt and enjoy swordfighting with his companions. When the French girl arrived, surely his parents would expect him to spend most of his time with her - and he doubted that she would enjoy his sports, not many women at Court did.
Deciding that to dance with her now would be easier than suffering his eight-year-old sister's sulking William offered her his hand, which she eagerly left her chair to take. Together, they descended to the dance floor. With the prevailing high-paced music the duo agreed to do the Galliard, as most nobles were doing upon the floor. Right, left, right, left, cadence William chanted in his head briefly, choosing to do a large jump as his cadence where he landed with his right leg in front of his left, his second was a hop and third was a leap by which he switched sides with his sister. The energetic steps were repeated many a times, both William and Mary laughing and sweating as they danced around. Tiring, Mary soon retired back to her seat; William moved to do the same but was stopped by a rather lovely auburn haired woman. She was perhaps a few years older than him, with a curvy figure and supporting a coy smile.
"Your Highness, do you have another dance to spare for a lowly maiden?" she inquired, batting her eyelashes. The teenage Duke of York felt as if there was a lump in his throat as he quickly agreed, indulging her far more than one dance.
Upon their fourth dance, the consummation of the marriage of the Prince and Princess of Wales was called for. Princess Katherine was whisked away by her Ladies to ready her for the night, whilst Arthur left trailed by his groomsmen. Not twenty minutes had passed before the Queen, King and the King's mother left the hall as well, off to witness the blessing of the marriage bed.
His parents and grandmothers' figures had scarcely left the room before the auburn haired woman he was dancing with whispered to him about leaving for his chambers, and he nodded eagerly. William didn't notice, in his haste to leave the hall, how the woman's father nodded at her in approval as she followed the young Prince into the endless halls of Westminster Palace.
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February 22nd 1504
Katherine, Princess of Wales, awoke to the feeling of sunlight assaulting her eyes; groggily, she rolled over to where she saw the face of one of her Ladies, Maria, gazing upon her. It took the girl of nine and ten several moments to recall what had happened and where she was - she was a married woman now, the Princess of Wales, and currently within Prince Arthur's Court chambers. She could scarcely believe it. For a while, she had worried that she would be confined to die an old spinster in England - all over her father's reluctance to pay her dowry in full, and her father-in-law's pride to not allow it to be reduced - but now everything was as it should be. One day, Katherine would be Queen of England! She would help bring about a golden age to England!
"Your Highness, we must leave," Maria informed her, looking upon Katherine's smiling face with warmth, "the Prince's grooms will be here soon."
Maria gave her a nightgown that Katherine hurriedly placed of her bare form, fearful of Arthur's men appearing at any moment. Soon enough, she was being whisked back towards her chambers. The short walk there gave her several moments to think over last night. It was not enjoyable, but then Katherine had not expected it to be so, and it had hurt somewhat. Her husband was neither gentle nor rough with her, his inexperience not allowing for either. Mayhaps she could learn to enjoy it more, as she heard it whispered that some women do, as for the moment it felt more like a chore than anything else. England (specifically the Lady Margaret) had not been kind to her so far, so it would be nice to be able to find pleasure in something.
"How was he?" was the main inquiry thrown at her by her eager Spanish ladies when she returned to her chambers, their lack of propriety earning them glares from some of the older Englishwomen whom were also in her household, "was he kind and warm? Was he attentive?"
"Nay," Katherine said quietly, lest her English Ladies report to the King or his mother for badmouthing the Prince, "he was cold and unreceptive, but I shall maintain hope that he shall thaw throughout our times together. After all, I am fair and of royal blood, there is not much more he could want."
Her show of pride was a cover for insecurities - that perhaps he did find something wrong with her; that he found her unbearable to be around. Her more perceptive ladies gave her sympathetic looks, but Katherine did not want their sympathy. She just wanted to make her marriage work.
With little more to say on the matter, Katherine ordered her ladies about to go and get her dress for the day - a lilac coloured gown of Spanish style, the coveted colour symbolising her royal status - and prepare her a rose-petal covered bath. When she slid into the warm water, it soothed her aching muscles and she began to feel ready to take on the day of gossiping courtiers and the harsh treatment of particular members of the royal family. Idly, she thought of the arrival of Marguerite d'Angouleme - it was not scheduled for over two years yet, but it surely would have a large effect upon the royal family.
When Katherine had first heard that her brother-in-law would have a French match, she had been greatly angered. France was Spain's great enemy, thus it would interfere with her duty to influence England to have a pro-Spanish approach in all things, such as wars, marriages and the likes. After more deliberation it had simply left her determined. She, Catalina of Castile and Aragon, would be Queen of England - not some French tart! It would be her country, just as Spain was her country, and she would ensure that all of England's interests benefited Spain - and vice veresa - to the best of her ability. Katherine would simply have to make sure that the to-be Duchess of York would have as little influence at Court, in government and over William as possible.
The water beginning to cool down, Katherine pulled herself out of it. Her Ladies went about drying her hair before lacing a corset upon her and then pulling the earlier chosen dress over her head. To finish her outfit choice, Katherine selected an elaborate cross given to her by her mother - dear Queen Isabella - and negotiated with herself that she would wear the necklace gifted to her by the lovely Queen Elizabeth another day.
Taking in a deep breath, she readied herself to begin to stride towards the oak doors that led out of her chambers; further towards her future. At the end of her path, she was certain, lay her golden age.
A/N - so, poor William is getting used for his status; Katherine is a lioness ready to defend her adopted country from French influences; Margaret Beaufort... is being Margaret Beaufort and Henry is sulking. Chapter 3 will also be set in 1504, whilst Chapter 4 will skip a couple of years to Marguerite's arrival 
I hope you enjoyed!
