How dare you document my idiotic moment for eyes to see! People mustn’t know I have smooth brain!
An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
Presumably Alba will be told in no uncertain terms to get Catalina married and shipped off from court.
I really enjoy how you portray their relationship. OTL Charles and Isabella did similarly have their marriage suffer over Charles always being away during their time together and this problem was so bad that he couldn't even be there with her when she died (which probably didn't do wonders to his unbearable grief at her death). I like how Charles deals with Anne's reformist ideas where as a staunch Catholic he will still follow his faith but does entertain Anne's reformist leaning ideas when they do make sense (such as his problems with the pope). Makes me wonder how Felipe will shape up to be religion wise since obviously Anne is allowing him and his siblings to be raised Catholic (even if begrudgingly) but he may have some reformist sympathies thanks to his mother (since yes she can't straight up teach him the ideas of the reformation but y'know she could convince him to work on rooting out corruption in the church among other things).
Considering how she insulted not only his empress and the mother of his children but the woman whom he snubbed multiple foreign princesses for because of how much he loved her, this does seem to be the most likely option since I feel like finding a husband for her would be rather difficult with her in such awful graces with Charles for trying to seduce him. Then again I'm not too knowledgeable on matters like these so maybe he can find her a husband since she is still the sister of a duke
Anne is a reformer NOT a Protestant and the difference between the two things is pretty big
Exactly. Between her being in his bad books, and it being known she tried seducing a married man (and failed), getting a husband could be harder. Especially if the Emperor and Empress suggested it to her family.
True…
Long-distance relationships are difficult today, when we have facetime and whatsapp. To Anne and Charles, it must be excruciating.
I mean I did specifically say "reformist ideas" instead of "protestant beliefs". Unless the rooting out corruption thing was a protestant thing cause I based that off her OTL beliefs where she wanted the monasteries Henry was snatching to be turned into or schools or hospitals for the people.
My point is who Anne will want keep her kids open to reformist ideas but has no reason for wanting something different from a Catholic education for them
Anne was very devoted to the cult of the Virgin Mary so she's not entirely protestant
Ah I see I interpreted that she didn't want them to get a Catholic education based on how she disliked them praying to saints which is part of a Catholic education here if they had a reformist one they wouldn't be doing that but yeah that makes sense I mean she herself did have a Catholic education so there's no reason she should be too troubled by it
I always thought Anne disliked more the open corruption of the church, and the breaking of vows such as the Borgias, rather than the saints' part.
Same for me. Anne’s only sure break with the Catholic religious practice was about the language of bibles and masses (and that was a reformist tract adopted by the protestants NOT a full fledged Protestant idea) and that also can count as political NOT theological issue
Yeah, I mean. There's a reason she can fly under the radar. She's been in Spain for nearly a decade and no one has realized her reformist ideas. Even the dissolution of the monasteries ended up being a political issue for her. She didn't want their wealth to be sold because that's just corruption. It's more of the same.
12th of September, 1531.
Hampton Court Palace, England. 12th of September, 1531.
The leather ball rolled close to his feet, jumping slightly with the bumps on the ground and Henry laughed as he moved forward to kick it. As he did, the crowd that watched the game gasped theatrically and clapped, excited for their king. He let his head fall back, enjoying the attention and smiled.
Although, he felt hot. Too hot. He was wearing a simple pair of breeches and a dark doublet, mindful of overheating under such thick garments during his exercise. Even still, his cheeks were flushed a furious red and every so often, he'd pull a handkerchief offered by a servant to dab at the sweat pooling around his hairline.
But he didn't complain. He was having too much fun and Henry knew that as soon as he made a comment about the dry September heat, people would assume he wished to stop the game. And he didn't.
The ball continued to roll down the field and John, with his red hair looking like blemished gold in the sunlight, ran forward to kick it. He was an active boy of eight, playing without a care as he maneuvered the ball between his feet. There was still some clumsy movements to his ankles and he almost fell at one point, tripping over his own feet, but he simply laughed, the good sport that he was.
On the other side, stood Henry's brother-in-law and nephew. Harry Brandon, as red haired as his mother and cousin, ran to take the ball from John. When he did, he passed to his father with an expert kick, lips curled into a grimace as he concentrated.
"Come on, John," Henry called out. "Take it from them!" At that moment, Charles, probably distracted, but most likely willing to let the Prince of Wales win, accidentally passed it to John. Henry clapped excitedly as he saw his son run down the field.
John did not hesitate to kick the ball in the direction of the goal, two branches that were stuck inside the ground by servants earlier that day. At that, Henry let out a whoop in celebration.
"Good one, boy," he said. "Good!"
Maybe they ought to play tennis instead of ball, and Henry would've much preferred to do the former, but John had asked and who was he to deny anything to his precious son? Yes, Edward III had banned the game in his time, but that was different. That was for the commoners, not for a king and his Prince of Wales.
Distracted, Henry did not notice the messenger coming his way until the crowd parted for the man, already gossiping over what it was for. He turned away from the game for just one moment, to let the man whisper at the foot of his ear, even while his eyes were focused on Harry and John fighting over the ball.
"The Queen has given birth to a healthy child, Sire," he said and Henry nodded, doing his best to keep his face neutral as his heart raced over the news. A child, a new child, and one that was healthy at that. It was more than he could have imagined, with Isabella's recent history in producing heirs. As well as Catherine's.
Another healthy child. Henry looked at the messenger. "Is it a boy?" he asked.
The messenger looked at him for a long moment, the colour leaving his face before he murmured, "No, Your Majesty."
Henry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to be recomposed. He looked back at John, his precious heir and sole surviving legitimate son, who had colour high in his cheeks as he played. John was almost nine, the longest lived of any of his boys.
I must keep him safe, Henry thought. Him and Pierre both. The only sons that I have left. Henry had not thought about his bastard in so long, but he had to remedy that. It would do well to bring the Earl of Gloucester to court. Even if just for a season. Isabella could not complain, not when it was his own decision and he was both her husband and her king. Her lord and master.
Yes, that was a good plan.
"Very well," he said, turning back to the messenger. "Tell the Queen that I will soon see her."
The messenger nodded and, with a final bow, left. Henry turned back to the game, pretending that he didn't notice the curious glances from the crowd as they tried to discern what had happened.
But as he walked back to take the ball from John and score his own point, something changed. He didn't realize what was happening until it had already happened. At one moment, John and Harry were trying to take the ball from the other, and in the next… Harry shoved at John, throwing his shoulders back. The Prince of Wales fell to the ground with a muffled thud, groaning in pain.
Henry began to run forward, to save his son, but he was far away and a gasp arose from the crowd when the savage Earl of Lincoln climbed over his cousin to punch him in the face. He saw nothing but the blood that spurted out, heard nothing but his own heart, drumming in his ears. Servants rushed forward to help, Charles, quicker and closer to them, grabbed his son by the shoulders to pull him away.
The King reached them at the same time that a servant helped John stand up and he turned to his son, hands shaking.
"Are you alright?" he asked, desperate. Henry knelt down to look at his face and saw as his lower lip swelled up by the second, a cut running down as blood dribbled to his chin. There was another cut on his eyebrow, also bleeding. His heart was racing as John brought a hand to his mouth, making a face at the pain. "Did he hurt you? Are you in pain? John, answer me, what happened?"
He might be acting like a mother hen, clucking around and about his son, but he didn't care. This was John, his promised heir, the child that Catherine died to bring into the world. The stronger, surviving twin. His son. His son!
"Harry cheated!" John spat out a mix of blood and saliva as he spoke, angry. "He tried to kick my ankles to get the ball, and that's cheating!"
"No, I didn't!" Harry Brandon answered and Henry looked at him, feeling as if he looked at a stranger instead of his own nephew. "You're lying! Father, he's lying!"
Charles looked at his son, who was not at all injured then to the bleeding Prince, and then finally, at Henry. His face was pale, devoid of colour. "Henry, t-the boys are--" he stuttered, unable to even finish his sentence. "In games such as this, emotions run high and the boys well, they are boys."
Henry placed a hand over John's shoulder. "I know my son is a boy, but yours…" He did not finish his sentence. Instead, as Harry's face flushed a furious red, he turned to John. "Come, John. The physician must see you and we must visit the Queen afterwards." He didn't want his son's face to swell up so much, and he also wanted the injuries to be cleaned. If they got infected, Henry didn't know what he would do. He shook his head. "Your mother will be furious when she sees you."
--
Nantes, Brittany. 3rd of October, 1531.
"I have a sister! I have a sister!" Marie Tudor exclaimed as she ran into the great hall. In it, Lady Parr and Nan were in the midst of a lute lesson, with Madge Shelton practicing her virginals by the corner. "I have a sister!"
"A sister?" Lady Parr asked, standing up. When she came closer, Marie didn't hesitate to hand over her father's letter. In it, he announced the birth of her little sister, who was sweet and healthy as far as he was concerned. "Oh, congratulations, my lady. The newest Lady of England could not have asked for a better godmother."
"I know," Marie said, smiling. "Oh, this is the best day!" At fifteen and a princess to boot, Marie had many good days, but being asked to stand as godmother to her little sister was much better. It was a great task, that she be trusted with her sister's religious duties, but she wasn't a child anymore. She could do it. Marie had been named godmother to her cousin Frances when she was a baby, but this was different. This was her own sister and the first time she could actually remember it, and do something about it. "I must give her something, mustn't I?"
"It is traditional, my lady," Lady Parr responded. "What would you like to give to your sister?"
"Maybe a dress," Marie answered, running her fingers through her own pink gown. Then, thinking, she scrunched up her nose. "Or maybe a doll, for her to hold and hug and pretend it is me that she is hugging."
The idea that she would never lay eyes upon her sister, whom she already loved very much, made her sad, but Madge, running up to Marie, diverted her attention.
"What is the princess' name?" she asked eagerly. "We should all send her something!"
"Eleanor," Marie responded, smiling. She loved her sister's name. It was the perfect name for a perfect girl. "Papa named her after Longshanks' Queen."
"Eleanor Tudor," Lady Parr repeated. "It is perfect."
"Queen Eleanor was from Castile, was she not?" Nan Parr asked and her mother nodded. "Maybe we can send her something about that?"
Lady Parr laughed as she shook her head no. "I don't think the King of England will enjoy having Castilian symbols around his daughter," she said.
"But the sigil of Castile is a castle," said Madge. "What if we send her a miniature castle, for her to play with her dolls when she is older?"
"Madge!" Marie exclaimed. "I love that. And we can send dolls too, to make it even more special!"
As they began to discuss the dolls, and the miniature castle, Lady Parr, overwhelmed, read the paper again. The Duke of Brittany who, although not her charge but in her daily surroundings, was asked to be young Eleanor's godfather. Certainly, King Henry assumed François would be in Brittany and that Marie, who had grown more than fond of her French prince, would save him the trouble of talking to him.
But young François had left Brittany for the royal court, since his stepmother was expecting again and he was going to be the godfather to his new sibling. Someone would have to send a messenger after him, and Maud knew very well King Henry ought not to be bothered with it, which meant she had to be that someone.
Great.