An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
Will be interesting to see how the Portuguese react to Felipe trying to delay maría’s marriage. Also, I feel like joao talking with Jorge’s governess is significant…
I wonder if Anne's death is gonna affect how many kids Felipe will have since he's pretty against the idea currently though it probably won't be permanent since he has duties though he probably wouldn't want Joana to have nearly as many kids as Anne had with Charles (though given the incest that may be inevitable)
Wonder if the Portuguese would be offended if Felipe really did try to delay them for 1-2 years since that isn't exactly a short period of time to be delayed from returning home with the girl who's supposed to be the prince's wife
1st of September, 1536.
Flanders, Low Countries. 1st of September, 1536.
Maria stood beside her nephew in the great hall of the ducal palace. Juan was a boy of ten now with blonde hair and striking blue eyes, tall for his age and he wore a doublet of black velvet with white strings sewn into his lapel, a dark feathered hat over his head. He was handsome and hale, with a healthy glow to his face though with a pronounced lower lip more visible than the reports of his older brother claimed. It made him look eternally pouting and wasn't as deformed as his father's, which the entire Burgundian state thanked for.
Juan was expected to rule over them in an independent state to stand between the Empire and the Kingdom of France, protecting their entire family. Not a vassal of Castile or even of Austria, but as a true Burgundian ruler. Standing on his own rights, second son of the emperor. Making his own decisions.
When her brother summoned her to the Low Countries to be regent in his name after their aunt died, Maria had to admit that she hated it. She didn't want to stay in Hungary with the memories of Lajos and István but neither did she wish to take up the rule in her grandmother's lands, caring for her nephew and niece. Why would she? Why would anyone choose a life where the fate of so many souls rested upon their hands? She didn't know.
But Charles promised her it was only temporary. Only until Juan turned fourteen, where he would then take the rule for himself and become the true Duke of Burgundy that he was destined to be. Maria counted the days until such a thing would happen, until she could retire as a respectable widow in the countryside. She was eager for it. For peace of mind and of her days.
The trumpets bellowed as the herald announced the arrival of Charles of Austria, Duke of Burgundy, Luxembourg and Brabant, Lord of the Netherlands, King of Castile and Aragon and Holy Roman Emperor. Maria stepped back slightly so she could curtsy as deeply as possible, Juan doing much of the same beside her and her brother entered the room.
In truth, Maria didn't know what she expected. The last time she saw Charles was soon after the birth of her nephew, Infante Eduardo. Then, her brother was a tall and fearsome fellow, though not exactly handsome. He commanded respect wherever he went, always wearing the finest velvets, silks, sables and ermine. That was a brother, a King-Emperor to fear and love.
But the man that came her way was neither commanding nor fearsome. He had Charles' face but there were dark bags under his eyes, almost as if he had not slept at all in weeks and his cheeks looked sunken-in. Gaunt, really. His entire body looked ravaged by grief, his form moving forward on trembling legs weakened by gout. Maria tried to keep her face, thanking years of royal training under her aunt and grandfather for not letting the shock show and stepped forward to meet her brother halfway.
"Dearest brother," she said, offering him a hand as she swept down in another curtsy, "Welcome to Flanders. Allow me to be the first to offer my condolences on the tragic death of Empress Anne."
Charles squeezed her hand, though his face remained impassive. Maria cursed their estranged years for not being able to read his expression or the darkness behind his eyes. She had no doubt that Leonor or even Elisabeth, her poor sister, would instantly know what was wrong with him.
"Thank you, Maria," the Emperor said with a calm tone. "The death of my wife was an acheful stab, though much soothed by the survival of our beautiful children." He took advantage of the moment to step around her, leading himself to Juan right behind her. “My beloved son, how it pleases me to see you.”
Juan blinked as he looked up at his father. “It pleases me greatly to see you as well, my lord father,” he said with a soft and childish voice. “I’m happy that we may grieve for my lady mother together.”
Charles nodded, even though his eyes looked faraway.
--
Tyrol, Austria. 12th of October, 1536.
Ferdinand found George in the royal chapel. He had been spending much time there as of late, since news came from Spain that his sister had perished and, though Ferdinand wouldn’t deny him the chance to turn to faith to grieve the Empress, he had to admit that the act confused him.
George had never been a religious man and in the many years they knew each other, Ferdinand would not be strange to think he had seen him pray less than ten times, but still. The loss of a loved one often made men turn to God for answers, for understanding.
The Duke of Württemberg sat before an altar to the Holy Mary, his shoulders tense and hunched forward. Ferdinand rubbed his fingers together as he walked between the pews, trying to remain calm. George didn’t react to his presence until he sat beside him, taking a deep shuddering breath as Ferdinand knocked their shoulders together.
"What is wrong?" he asked gently.
"I'm just thinking," George said, not looking at him. Ferdinand noticed the leather-bound book in his hands.
He nodded at it. "What is that?"
He showed him the first page, dark words printed on paper. The Obedience of a Christian Woman, and the relation between wives, mothers and girls with the Lord.
“Who is the author?” he asked. “Tynsdale?”
George shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think the author preferred to remain anonymous.”
Ferdinand took the book from him gently, reading the first few pages. What he read made his eyes grow wide, the ideas shared much too controversial for him.
"Is this a Protestant book?" he asked. "How did you get your hands on it?"
"If I say yes, are you going to burn it?" George questioned with an arch of his eyebrow. "Even if you do this, there are thousands of others in the hands of your subjects. All over the empire, really. Forbidding it will only fan the flames. People enjoy doing that which they should not."
"Is that what you think?" Ferdinand asked. He returned his eyes to the book. "Why do you read a book from an author concerned about the relations of women and the Lord?"
"The ideas in it are rather thought-provoking," George said. "The author linkens the apacy to a violent interloper in a holy union between man and wife, between men and God. And claims that a death in childbirth is as honourable as a death on the battlefield."
"No one claimed it otherwise," Ferdinand murmured.
"I know," George responded. "But the author said that it is the duty of a husband to care for his wife when she bears his children and that her death in labour is as much his fault as if he had run through her with a sword."
"Are you worried about my brother?" Ferdinand asked, placing his hand over George's wrist. "About his soul?"
George shook his head. "I'm just thinking," he said, finally turning to look at him with his striking black eyes. "My sister always had thoughts about the worship of the saints but no matter what, she remained loyal to the Virgin. She told me in a letter that she always prayed to our mother whenever she found herself with child."
"What happened to your sister was a terrible tragedy," said Ferdinand. "None could have prevented it."
"I know," said George. He shook his head. "My sister died the same way so many other women did. She died like the Queen of England, like the Queen of France your sister." He looked away for a brief moment before turning back to Ferdinand. "Are you truly here to hear me speak about my sister?"
"Honestly? Not at all," he said. "Forgive me for my self-centred thoughts, but I wish to share interesting news with you.”
“What is it?” George asked.
“Anna is pregnant,” Ferdinand said. “It hasn’t quickened yet, but we are almost entirely sure.” He smiled, squeezing George’s wrist.
“Already?” he asked with a sardonic grin. “Don’t you grow tired of her?”
“As I grew tired of you?” Ferdinand knocked their shoulders again. “We have made plans on names. If it’s a girl, we wish to name her Johanna after my mother and if it’s a boy…” He hesitated, licking his lips.
“And if it’s a boy?” George asked with an arch of his brow.
Ferdinand smiled. “We wish to name him Georg, after you,” he said. “Anna and I are in agreement.”
“Georg?” George chuckled. “No son of the House of Austria has had such a name before.”
“And neither was there an Eduardo, or a Ferdinand,” he said. “All traditions have to start somewhere.”
George smiled. “I suppose there is nothing I can say or do to make you change your mind then,” he said and Ferdinand shook his head.
“Nothing at all,” he said.
They didn’t kiss, but George moved his hand to squeeze Ferdinand’s and that was just as well.
Thought you might. That's why I went back on my decision to refer to George Boleyn as Georg. Little Georg von Osterreich needed his own name.
Awww poor Charles, you really se how badly he's doing, even from an outside perspective. I am glad to Ferdinand has been a comfort to George, hopefully his new child is healthy...
I think an outside perspective is exactly what you need to see the physical toll Anne's death has taken from him. He's neither eating nor sleeping. So far, we only saw the emotional effect.
I'm not gonna promise a Georg of Austria and not deliver!!!
