A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
- Thread starter FalconHonour
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"Because, heavens above, if they donāt help her, Lisbon is going to eat the older girl alive." - hurray for helpful siblings-in-law (to be).
Marguerite's coronation would undoubtedly be the most expensive part of any TV production of this timeline so far based on that dress alone!
Marguerite's coronation would undoubtedly be the most expensive part of any TV production of this timeline so far based on that dress alone!
Because I'm writing Isabella and Marie's first meeting today, I am formally casting Georgie Henley from her Voyage of the Dawn Treader era (albeit with slightly darker hair...) as Isabella. Thought you might all like to know. 
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I like it! Though in my mind she will always be that innocent girl from Narnia. I have not seen her as Margaret Tudor, howeverā¦Because I'm writing Isabella and Marie's first meeting today, I am formally casting Georgie Henley from her Voyage of the Dawn Treader era (albeit with slightly darker hair...) as Isabella. Thought you might all like to know.
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Honestly she was great. Just as tempestuous as I imagined Margaret to be
I need to watch the Spanish Princess. If only to see Georgie in period dress...
Section LXXXVI - June 1529
I am stuck in the house with the dreaded plague, so I have nothing better to do than write at the moment... You may as well all reap the benefits!
āBravo, Margarida,ā Joao announces himself without warning, chuckling as he sees his young wife jump at the sound of his voice. Sheās so determinedly poised so much of the time that itās sometimes nice to be reminded how young she still is. It helps him keep his desire in check, if nothing else. Heās promised his confessor he wonāt consummate his marriage for another nine months, until Margarida turns fourteen. Sometimes, however, that seems like a hard promise to keep, particularly when Margarida looks backwards up at him, her deep blue eyes soft and eager to please. Just like sheās doing now.
He quashes his faint surge of desire firmly as he continues, āWeāve scarcely been married a fortnight and youāve already begun acting as Portugalās mother.ā
āWhat have I done to deserve that accolade?ā Margarida scoffs lightly, turning to face him more fully.
āLuis tells me youāre the reason he managed to say more than two words to his wife on their wedding night,ā Joao raises an eyebrow inquiringly and Margarida flushes, biting the corner of her lower lip in embarrassment.
āFrancoise did most of it. Sheās the real linguist in my household. And besides, two weeks wasnāt long. Anna canāt manage more than a few phrases. Portuguese is a hard language to learn, particularly when youāve spoken nothing but Dutch and German all your life, and of course, she thought she was going to be Duchess of Ross until a year ago, not Duchess of Beja. Iāve known I was going to be your Queen since my sixth birthday. Iāve had a lot more time to prepare.ā
Margot knows she is babbling, but somehow, despite her usual self-control, she canāt help it. Something about this man, something she canāt explain, makes her nervous. Her stomach flutters whenever heās nearby. Maybe itās just knowing that sheās married to him; that it will be her duty to give him children one day soon, but she likes the way his blue-grey eyes light up when heās amused. Heās so serious that it doesnāt happen often, though.
He's laughing lightly now, however, clearly charmed by her chatter.
Crossing the room to stand behind her, he leans down and places his hands on her shoulders.
āPeace, Margarida. You donāt have to explain. Whatever happened, and whatever happens between them now, Luis is grateful to you for trying. And so am I. Itās exactly the kind of thing I expect my wife to do.ā
He drops a gentle kiss on her brow and then tugs her to her feet with one hand, dipping the other into the pouch hanging at his waist.
āI have something for you, querida.ā
The jewels sparkle in the candlelight as he pulls them out and Margarida gasps. In truth, Joao canāt blame her. The necklace is a thick double-strand of flawless pearls, the strands connected by four large sapphires cut into the shape of flowers. Halfway round the circle, just where the base of Margotās throat will be when she wears it, sits a lozenge-cut sapphire set in delicate silver filagree with a trio of pearls hanging from its bottom edge.
āItās beautiful!ā
āIt reminded me of your personal badge,ā Joao whispers, stepping round behind her so that he can do up the clasp.
Despite herself, Margot has to laugh, because she can see what he means. Sheās adapted her personal emblem from the one her grandmother drew up for her when she was preparing to sail from France, and it is now a shield of French royal blue with a silver Marguerite in each of the three points of the shield.
She fingers the twin ropes of pearls gingerly and cups the lozenge-cut sapphire in the palm of her hand, testing its weight. It is comfortably heavy, a real acknowledgement of her rank and what she means to Joao.
āThank you,ā she tips her head to the side so that she can look over her shoulder at him, āI shall wear it at my coronation next week.ā
Joao smiles, āThatās what I hoped youād say, Margarida.ā
āMargot.ā
Margot is astonished to hear herself interrupt Joao, and indeed, he stops short, startled by her boldness.
Still, this is important to her and so she presses on, seizing the brief opportunity presented to her by his shock.
āMy family back in France all called me Margot. Nannette and Francoise still do when weāre alone. Canāt you do the same? Margarida doesnāt feel like me. I always think Iām in trouble when you call me that.ā
āMargot is a French name, querida,ā Joao says gently, suppressing a grimace of irritation. Taking a deep breath, he reminds himself how young his wife still is and what a tough year sheās had, losing two younger brothers and having to step into her motherās shoes, āIt wonāt be fitting for the Queen of Portugal to be addressed by a French name.ā
āOh, Iām not asking for it in public!ā Margot hastens to assure him, āI know my duty better than that, I know it wouldnāt be fitting. But in private, when itās just the family. Wonāt you and Luis and Anna and Isabella and Henrique and Fernando and Afonso and Duarte call me Margot? Please?!ā
Joao grimaces again. He wants to say no, but Margotās eyes are wide and innocent and he canāt quite bring himself to break her heart by refusing her pleading. Not when sheās so young and coping with so much change already.
āIsabella wonāt,ā he warns, āShe hates all things French since your aunt stole the Emperor from her. But my brothers and Iā¦Weāll try. I canāt promise Margarida wonāt slip out occasionally, but I give you my word that weāll try.ā
āThank you! Oh, Joao, thank you!ā
Margarida ā no, Margot now, Joao reminds himself ā jumps at him in delight and Joao suddenly finds himself with an armful of excited teenage girl.
It seems the most natural thing in the world to bend his head to hers and seal their bargain with a kiss.
Rambouillet, June 1529
āMarie sails from Dover tomorrow. Sheāll be in Paris next week. Weāll have to go back to receive her.ā
Francis speaks into his pillow, the words muffled by the down-filled object.
For a moment, Isabella continues to rock from side to side on top of him and he wonders if she hasnāt heard him. But then she stiffens and Francis knows, even without looking at her, that she is pouting harshly.
āI donāt see why you have to welcome her back.ā
Francis groans. They have had this conversation multiple times since Marieās return was first mooted. It is beginning to become tiresome.
He tips Isabella lightly off his back and sits up, turning to face her.
āSheās my wife. Questions will be asked if Iām not there to meet her.ā
āShe abandoned you! Left Margot to shoulder the duties of a Queen when sheād barely come of age! Anyone with half an eye can see youāve grounds for an annulment.ā
āI donāt, actually!ā Francis corrects, cutting Isabella off sharply. She blinks at him, startled that he should raise his voice to her. Heās never done that before.
āBut, surelyā¦abandonmentā¦ā
āIs only grounds for an annulment if the husband and wife have been separated for more than two years. Marie hasnāt even been gone a year. Besides, sheās been grieving our young sons. Iād be far less than chivalrous if I petitioned the Holy Father for an annulment now, even assuming the case wouldnāt be laughed out of court or cause all sorts of awkward headaches about the legitimacy of our children.ā
Isabellaās face clouds blackly, and she mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, āSheās been merry enough to hunt and dance with her brother,ā but she says nothing more and Francis decides to let the quiet grumbling go. Isabellaās young, after all, and probably bitterly disappointed at losing her crown as his unchallenged favourite and tacit hostess.
Still, heād better make it clear that he wonāt stand for deliberate disrespect of Marie, at least not in public.
āI have to take Marie back and I have to show her the respect sheās due as my consort. If I donāt, given Marieās obvious English support, I risk King Henry telling tales about me to the Pope, and, well, you donāt want me to be laid under Interdict like King Phillip was, do you?ā
He casts a meaningful glance at her rounded stomach and she grimaces, hand straying to her midriff, āI suppose not.ā
āGood. I knew youād see the sense in what I was saying. Iāll expect you to lead the Court in paying Marie the respect sheās due at public occasions. Particularly in front of the children. You know how Jean, in particular, looks up to you. Heāll only show her respect if you do.ā
Isabella scowls, but doesnāt ā quite ā refuse, and Francis exhales in relief, kissing her gratefully.
āThank you, cherie.ā
He hesitates, then murmurs the carrot heās been planning against her lips.
āI have to respect Marie as my consort. But I donāt have to love her. Not any more. Youāre my lady love now. I promise you that, Madame de Valentinois.ā
It takes a moment for Francisās words to register with Isabella. When they do, she freezes, then rips back from their kiss, beaming.
āDo you mean it? Truly?ā
āOf course I do,ā Francis laughs, āI canāt leave your son without a title now, can I?ā
Isabella squeals, the peals of her delight filling the room and making Francis laugh. Itās been a long time since heās been able to please the girl he loves so easily.
Lisbon, June 1529
āBravo, Margarida,ā Joao announces himself without warning, chuckling as he sees his young wife jump at the sound of his voice. Sheās so determinedly poised so much of the time that itās sometimes nice to be reminded how young she still is. It helps him keep his desire in check, if nothing else. Heās promised his confessor he wonāt consummate his marriage for another nine months, until Margarida turns fourteen. Sometimes, however, that seems like a hard promise to keep, particularly when Margarida looks backwards up at him, her deep blue eyes soft and eager to please. Just like sheās doing now.
He quashes his faint surge of desire firmly as he continues, āWeāve scarcely been married a fortnight and youāve already begun acting as Portugalās mother.ā
āWhat have I done to deserve that accolade?ā Margarida scoffs lightly, turning to face him more fully.
āLuis tells me youāre the reason he managed to say more than two words to his wife on their wedding night,ā Joao raises an eyebrow inquiringly and Margarida flushes, biting the corner of her lower lip in embarrassment.
āFrancoise did most of it. Sheās the real linguist in my household. And besides, two weeks wasnāt long. Anna canāt manage more than a few phrases. Portuguese is a hard language to learn, particularly when youāve spoken nothing but Dutch and German all your life, and of course, she thought she was going to be Duchess of Ross until a year ago, not Duchess of Beja. Iāve known I was going to be your Queen since my sixth birthday. Iāve had a lot more time to prepare.ā
Margot knows she is babbling, but somehow, despite her usual self-control, she canāt help it. Something about this man, something she canāt explain, makes her nervous. Her stomach flutters whenever heās nearby. Maybe itās just knowing that sheās married to him; that it will be her duty to give him children one day soon, but she likes the way his blue-grey eyes light up when heās amused. Heās so serious that it doesnāt happen often, though.
He's laughing lightly now, however, clearly charmed by her chatter.
Crossing the room to stand behind her, he leans down and places his hands on her shoulders.
āPeace, Margarida. You donāt have to explain. Whatever happened, and whatever happens between them now, Luis is grateful to you for trying. And so am I. Itās exactly the kind of thing I expect my wife to do.ā
He drops a gentle kiss on her brow and then tugs her to her feet with one hand, dipping the other into the pouch hanging at his waist.
āI have something for you, querida.ā
The jewels sparkle in the candlelight as he pulls them out and Margarida gasps. In truth, Joao canāt blame her. The necklace is a thick double-strand of flawless pearls, the strands connected by four large sapphires cut into the shape of flowers. Halfway round the circle, just where the base of Margotās throat will be when she wears it, sits a lozenge-cut sapphire set in delicate silver filagree with a trio of pearls hanging from its bottom edge.
āItās beautiful!ā
āIt reminded me of your personal badge,ā Joao whispers, stepping round behind her so that he can do up the clasp.
Despite herself, Margot has to laugh, because she can see what he means. Sheās adapted her personal emblem from the one her grandmother drew up for her when she was preparing to sail from France, and it is now a shield of French royal blue with a silver Marguerite in each of the three points of the shield.
She fingers the twin ropes of pearls gingerly and cups the lozenge-cut sapphire in the palm of her hand, testing its weight. It is comfortably heavy, a real acknowledgement of her rank and what she means to Joao.
āThank you,ā she tips her head to the side so that she can look over her shoulder at him, āI shall wear it at my coronation next week.ā
Joao smiles, āThatās what I hoped youād say, Margarida.ā
āMargot.ā
Margot is astonished to hear herself interrupt Joao, and indeed, he stops short, startled by her boldness.
Still, this is important to her and so she presses on, seizing the brief opportunity presented to her by his shock.
āMy family back in France all called me Margot. Nannette and Francoise still do when weāre alone. Canāt you do the same? Margarida doesnāt feel like me. I always think Iām in trouble when you call me that.ā
āMargot is a French name, querida,ā Joao says gently, suppressing a grimace of irritation. Taking a deep breath, he reminds himself how young his wife still is and what a tough year sheās had, losing two younger brothers and having to step into her motherās shoes, āIt wonāt be fitting for the Queen of Portugal to be addressed by a French name.ā
āOh, Iām not asking for it in public!ā Margot hastens to assure him, āI know my duty better than that, I know it wouldnāt be fitting. But in private, when itās just the family. Wonāt you and Luis and Anna and Isabella and Henrique and Fernando and Afonso and Duarte call me Margot? Please?!ā
Joao grimaces again. He wants to say no, but Margotās eyes are wide and innocent and he canāt quite bring himself to break her heart by refusing her pleading. Not when sheās so young and coping with so much change already.
āIsabella wonāt,ā he warns, āShe hates all things French since your aunt stole the Emperor from her. But my brothers and Iā¦Weāll try. I canāt promise Margarida wonāt slip out occasionally, but I give you my word that weāll try.ā
āThank you! Oh, Joao, thank you!ā
Margarida ā no, Margot now, Joao reminds himself ā jumps at him in delight and Joao suddenly finds himself with an armful of excited teenage girl.
It seems the most natural thing in the world to bend his head to hers and seal their bargain with a kiss.
Rambouillet, June 1529
āMarie sails from Dover tomorrow. Sheāll be in Paris next week. Weāll have to go back to receive her.ā
Francis speaks into his pillow, the words muffled by the down-filled object.
For a moment, Isabella continues to rock from side to side on top of him and he wonders if she hasnāt heard him. But then she stiffens and Francis knows, even without looking at her, that she is pouting harshly.
āI donāt see why you have to welcome her back.ā
Francis groans. They have had this conversation multiple times since Marieās return was first mooted. It is beginning to become tiresome.
He tips Isabella lightly off his back and sits up, turning to face her.
āSheās my wife. Questions will be asked if Iām not there to meet her.ā
āShe abandoned you! Left Margot to shoulder the duties of a Queen when sheād barely come of age! Anyone with half an eye can see youāve grounds for an annulment.ā
āI donāt, actually!ā Francis corrects, cutting Isabella off sharply. She blinks at him, startled that he should raise his voice to her. Heās never done that before.
āBut, surelyā¦abandonmentā¦ā
āIs only grounds for an annulment if the husband and wife have been separated for more than two years. Marie hasnāt even been gone a year. Besides, sheās been grieving our young sons. Iād be far less than chivalrous if I petitioned the Holy Father for an annulment now, even assuming the case wouldnāt be laughed out of court or cause all sorts of awkward headaches about the legitimacy of our children.ā
Isabellaās face clouds blackly, and she mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, āSheās been merry enough to hunt and dance with her brother,ā but she says nothing more and Francis decides to let the quiet grumbling go. Isabellaās young, after all, and probably bitterly disappointed at losing her crown as his unchallenged favourite and tacit hostess.
Still, heād better make it clear that he wonāt stand for deliberate disrespect of Marie, at least not in public.
āI have to take Marie back and I have to show her the respect sheās due as my consort. If I donāt, given Marieās obvious English support, I risk King Henry telling tales about me to the Pope, and, well, you donāt want me to be laid under Interdict like King Phillip was, do you?ā
He casts a meaningful glance at her rounded stomach and she grimaces, hand straying to her midriff, āI suppose not.ā
āGood. I knew youād see the sense in what I was saying. Iāll expect you to lead the Court in paying Marie the respect sheās due at public occasions. Particularly in front of the children. You know how Jean, in particular, looks up to you. Heāll only show her respect if you do.ā
Isabella scowls, but doesnāt ā quite ā refuse, and Francis exhales in relief, kissing her gratefully.
āThank you, cherie.ā
He hesitates, then murmurs the carrot heās been planning against her lips.
āI have to respect Marie as my consort. But I donāt have to love her. Not any more. Youāre my lady love now. I promise you that, Madame de Valentinois.ā
It takes a moment for Francisās words to register with Isabella. When they do, she freezes, then rips back from their kiss, beaming.
āDo you mean it? Truly?ā
āOf course I do,ā Francis laughs, āI canāt leave your son without a title now, can I?ā
Isabella squeals, the peals of her delight filling the room and making Francis laugh. Itās been a long time since heās been able to please the girl he loves so easily.
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Ah, go back and read the chapter again. See if you can work it out šš
She is indeed! Glad someone spotted it!
Thanks. Got another couple of rough days ahead, I think, but as long as I'm better in time for my holiday at the end of the month, I'll take it!
I am I the only one who thinks that combined with that...
...kinda signifies troubles? Isabella would certainly try to shit on Mary, maybe she'd procure rumours that she slept with her own brother during her exile in England (like Anne Boleyn was accused of incest).
IDK if Isabella would go so far as to accuse Marie of incest but I can see her whining about Francis not setting her aside, especially if Isabella's child is a son. I mean, the girl has already made it very clear that she thinks Francis should pursue an annulment.
I think she could (not 100% certain, but that would be funny addition to story), but anyways Isabella and Marie would be source of major political conflict. Mary's side could resort to poison, though....
And if Isabella claims that Francis should pursue of annument, Mary's supporters could start to claim that Isabella used magic to bewitch the King, thus he can't rule and Francois should take the reins of the state (duke of Brittany).
Awww nice to see that Joao and Margot are up to a good start, and I hope that Isabella is appeased enough by her new title to outwardly respect Marie...