A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
Oh, snap! It’s really going down now! Francois is going to live up to the legacy of Elizabeth Woodville and Margaret Beaufort!
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Oh, he is. Guy de Laval is not going to be taking any prisoners when he returns to Orleans. Well, he will be, but....
I haven't actually written the actual moments, but we have plenty of the aftermath!
That's very kind, dear!
Well, he is half Tudor!
I hope everyone likes it! I certainly enjoyed writing a certain scene, after all.
Ha, that's several chapters away yet! That's October and we're only in July!
Also, I am taking suggestions for members of the Order of the White Rose (the order of Chivalry Henry is going to start in honour of Mary). I want 10 Knights and 10 Ladies in total.
Lillibet, Katherine and Meg Douglas are shoo-ins, obviously, and probably Hal Fitzroy, but give me names and reasons and I'll consider them....
Lillibet, Katherine and Meg Douglas are shoo-ins, obviously, and probably Hal Fitzroy, but give me names and reasons and I'll consider them....
I see your point, but he's only nineteen and his young children are in danger. He's not going to be thinking fully clearly...
Section CXXXVII: July 1536
Orleans, July 1536
“Milan? You want to go back to Milan? Now?! My Lord…”
“It is my Duchy, is it not?”
“Tell that to the Emperor!” Phillippe de Nemours clenches his fists at his sides, struggling to stop himself from shaking the recalcitrant Jean, “Like it or not, we ceded Milan to Lord Pescara the moment we landed in Narbonne! And your brother has more than proven he doesn’t like to fight for territories he loses. If he won’t fight for Boulogne, he sure as Hell won’t fight for Milan, not now. Not after what we’ve done. No, My Lord. If we are to get your Duchy back, then we must get ourselves installed in Paris! We must press on!”
“Must?! Must is not a word one uses to Princes, Lord Nemours! I came north for Madame de Valentinois’s sake. Now that she is dead, I see no reason to remain in France and put myself so easily within my brother’s reach. Get word to the men, we ride for Milan at dawn!”
“My Lord… you gave your word that you would see me installed on my mother’s throne in Pamplona. My sister, God rest her, would want you to keep that promise. Or did we all misjudge you? Are you naught more than a boy playing the man, ready to run at the first sign of trouble? Has Isabella died for nothing?”
Of all the curses and savage words thrown at Jean, it is Henri of Navarre’s that comes closest to getting through to him. The newly-fourteen-year-old falters for a moment, turning to face the older man with a stricken face.
Before he can speak, however, the doors behind them crash open and they all jolt, whirling as one to confront the intruder.
Guy de Laval stands there, two dozen burly men-at-arms fanned out behind him.
“Lord Milan, Lord Nemours, I have here warrants for your arrest, signed at Chinon by His Majesty King François. You are all to come with me to Nantes, where King François will decide what your fates shall be.”
Phillippe’s hand flies to his sword, as does Jean’s, but, when they look at the third of their triumvirate, Henri of Navarre simply smirks, and glances across to the Count.
“I understand King François must punish his rebellious subjects, but surely he would never be so crass as to arrest a brother sovereign, Father?”
“Of course not, son,” Guy de Laval replies coolly, laying just as much snide emphasis on Henri’s familial title as the younger man did on his, “Not, of course, providing that Your Majesty leaves France at once and never again embroils us in your rash dreams of restoration. Indeed, in his great mercy, King François has permitted me to say that any common soldier who surrenders to me or to my captains will be spared.”
Henri hesitates for a moment, but it is really just for show. In truth, he’s been negotiating behind Jean’s back ever since his sister died. Isabella was the driving force behind Jean’s stubborn uprising, after all, and he’s rudderless without her. Henri saw the writing on the wall a while ago, both for the uprising and for his own dreams of retaking his family’s realm. With France in turmoil and Jean out of favour and powerless, there is no one who would care enough to help Henri retake Pamplona, at least not when it means going up against the might of the Empire. And Gaston is only six. He can’t take up the banner yet, not for at least a decade. When the choice is between a suicidal last stand or a pampered exile pleading for support in Europe, trying to keep his family’s cause alive long enough for his son to take over…well, he really has no choice at all.
Henri nods to his father-in-law, and beckons to his men, sweeping from the room with all the arrogance that befits a King, even if only a titular one.
Jean watches open-mouthed. He is still too green in the world of politics to understand all the motivations behind every single power play, but even he knows it bodes ill for their cause when half the soldiers in the room, already uncomfortable with torn loyalties, particularly after Jean slaughtered so many innocents seeking vengeance for Isabella, seize their chance to defect, following Henri of Navarre out of the room. The young Duke screams obscenities after the defectors, exhorting them to return, but none do.
Lord Nemours knows then that it is all over. In truth, he’s known it is over ever since Guy de Laval set foot in their council chamber. After all, King François’s lapdog would never have made it so far into their stronghold without at least some of their soldiers turning coat.
Still, he tries. Roaring defiantly, swinging his sword with every ounce of strength he possesses, he does everything he can to stop the inevitable.
Jean does the same, but essentially, it is the two of them against two dozen, and, slowly but surely, they are overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and forced to their knees, hands bound behind their backs.
Guy de Laval leers down at them, grim satisfaction etched into every line of his face.
“It’s over, you whoresons. The next time you wake, you’ll be in Nantes before King François.”
With two swift swipes of the wrist, he clouts them on the backs of their heads with the pommel of his sword, even as protests form on their lips.
The world goes black.
Well, you'll have to wait and see on that one, though I will say I've moved on to writing Christmas now. Hal and Lilibet are joining forces to railroad their father into creating an order of chivalry in Mary's memory 💕
Henry will do anything for his kids if they catch him in the right mood. Mary and Hal joined forces to get Lillibet companions, and now Lillibet's thirteen, she's old enough to join forces with her older brother too. Although she is distinctly unimpressed with Ned, a year her junior, it must be said...
