Could Henry think that Teddy’s death might be a signal from God that he is straying down the wrong path?
An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
So why was Teddy's death through drowning? Because I wanted the fault to fall onto the Portuguese. @TheBookwormBoy and I spent weeks trying to figure out a way to kill him that would be the fault of the Portuguese. My options were:
- Choking on a cod (cods are part of the traditional Portuguese cuisine, and also the badge of Queen Isabella)
- A servant bringing a disease and Isabella dismissing them too late;
- Allergic reaction - felt too similar to little François de Lorraine's death;
- An accident
Boy there are just killings all around it seems... Poor George and Johanna... And poor Isabella
Henry, shut the hell up. A shame that it was Teddy who drowned and not you
I think he's too far down the 'blaming others for it' road to ever consider himself to be at fault.
Oh no, I hope George will at least take an active role in his children's upbringings so that they'll have one parent who could be with them, though I also wonder if perhaps a reunion between George and Ferdinand is possible eventually? Also, ffs Henry, what a dickhead like usual, hopefully, More can get him to be sensible about this or something. Great chapter!
Lots of death in this TL right now. I wonder if Henry can eventually put aside his anger with Isabella long enough for them to have another Duke of York. Well, not that Isabella could stomach that right now but maybe in the future…
15th of September, 1530.
15th of September, 1530. Solingen, Duchy of Cleves.
Renée was nervous.
Of course, she was nervous. Why would she not be? Why would she not be trembling with fear, her hands clammy with sweat as the carriage rode into the city that was to be her home? Her home for the rest of her life, the home that was to see her children be born and grow, her grandchildren and so on? Why would she not be nervous?
Madame de Soubise was seated beside her and she placed her hand over Renée's. The act was soothing and she took a deep breath in, willing herself to calm down.
It did not work. She flicked the fan with more intensity, the air hitting her face and Renée took another deep breath. It was alright, everything was alright. She was only off to marry the heir to a great number of lands and fortunes, to seal an alliance Francis had made against the Emperor. To fulfil the destiny placed upon her when she was first born as a second daughter to the King of France.
Why would she not be nervous?
She turned her hand so she could thread her fingers with Madame de Soubise’s, the one gift Francis had allowed her. Michelle was dismissed from her post as Renée’s governess when Francis came to the throne, as she opposed his mother, but he was unable to deny her the chance of bringing the gentle woman with her to Cleves. And even if he did, she would have just invited the woman to Germany, once she arrived and was sufficiently settled at her new home.
“What if he thinks I’m ugly?” Renée asked, turning to Michelle. She felt young, vulnerable, not at all the woman of twenty that she truly was.
“He shall not,” said Madame de Soubise.
“But what if he does?” Renée insisted. “What if he wants to send me back because I’m ugly?”
“You are not ugly,” she answered, “And Wilhelm is just four and ten. He’s barely of age. In truth, I imagine he is in his castle, wondering if you will think him scrawny or not.”
Renée smiled, but still, she looked at the tiny hand mirror she had in her pouch. Her face was soft, with a long nose and a pouty lower lip. She had inherited her mother’s red hair, which was only slightly visible under her French hood, but her eyes were green. They seemed almost a sickly green under the light and she set her mirror aside, feeling as if she herself was going to be sick if she continued to stare at her reflection.
“Don’t worry,” Madame de Soubise murmured as the carriage rolled to a stop, the welcoming party already in place to receive them. “I will be with you every step of the way.”
--
Flanders, Low Countries. 1st of October, 1530.
The baby cooed in Kate’s arms as she rocked her slightly in her chair, eyes closed as she certainly experienced an interesting dream. Her face was still red from birth, swollen and scrunched-up with tiny little white spots that the midwife said was normal and would disappear in a matter of weeks. The child, her first and most precious child, was sleeping peacefully, stomach full with her mother’s milk.
Kate would not hear of anyone else feeding her daughter. She would prefer to die than to see her in another woman’s arms and Louis was more than willing to humour her. Because she had been conceived on the feast day of St Agnes, Kate and her husband had decided to name her Inès, after the Saint.
It was a name that suited her and her baptism was held two days after she was born, with the Countess of Stolberg-Wernigerode standing as proxy for the Dowager Duchess, who was her godmother. After that, Kate had retired to a manor in the city with her child and the multitude of servants that had joined their retinue, while her husband continued with his duties as French ambassador. She felt good to be away from court with her baby, almost completely happy.
When her husband came to be with them, two weeks every month, that was when she was in her glory. In truth, Kate could not wait until they were allowed to return to France and she could become the head of her house, dismissing and hiring servants as she pleased. Finally, a woman grown and married.
When she was certain that Inès would not wake up, Kate placed her on her bassinet, adjusting the neckline of her gown. The little girl moved a little, opening and closing her hands, but did not wake up. Satisfied, Kate sat back down on her writing desk, picking up her quill and a fresh sheet of paper.
She took a deep breath and began to write out the title: The Obedience of a Christian Woman, and the relation between wives, mothers and girls with the Lord.
