An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
I just don't have the heart in me right now to write a wedding.
15th of May, 1537.
Windsor Castle, England. 15th of May, 1537.
John could feel his heart race every time he thought of her. He had hoped that his infatuation would pass as it did when he became fond of Lady Norris, and Lady Rochford, but it didn't. If anything, the feelings grew inside him, like a garden sprouting from a single seed.
He was terrified that Charlie would find out. What would he tell his friend, that he had acquired a fancy for his little sister? His gentle, pretty and sweet-smelling sister? Charlie wouldn't like it. Not when John was expected to marry some continental princess. He wouldn't like it if he made a whore out of his sister. And John didn't want that either. Katherine, Kitty, was kind and she deserved better than that. He had seen her a handful of times since his coronation, usually trailing beside Bessie and every time, he became more and more sure that he had to hold his feelings in. Until he died, preferably.
But it hurt. It hurt to not say anything to Charlie, to hold his feelings in and not say anything to her. To anyone, really. John was about to speak anytime someone asked him if he was well, if he liked the soup, Your Majesty. And yes, the soup was incredible, thank you, but Kitty Howard isn't here and I'm so terribly lonely without her.
Heartbreak was not romantic. It hurt. Everything hurt. He was only four and ten and yet, sometimes, John wished for death. Or for his mother to arrange his marriage herself so he could forget about her. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He'd love her forever, he was sure.
He began to wonder if he occupied her thoughts as she did his. What did she make of him? Did she appreciate his virtues, did she deride his flaws? It was so difficult to tell what girls thought. Every time he thought he had some semblance of understanding, his sisters or other court ladies surprised him and left him befuddled.
Did she think he was a good king? Or at least that he might be with time? He had inherited his father’s height but had yet to tangibly inherit any of his impressive presence. He was not so athletic, and he had few true friends beyond Charlie. Perhaps he could be more amiable as his father had once been, a man of athletic feats with a charming smile who made friends quickly when his temper was not fierce. Would Kitty ache for him if he became such a man, or would she perhaps scoff?
Perhaps she desired a scholar? He managed his lessons well, and it would surely please his mother if he pursued further education. He could be a man of high learning with a grasp on several languages if he desired. Would that fan his lady’s ardour?
His father always had whichever lady he so desired. John heard the men speaking about it, when they thought he wasn't listening. It's why he had so many half-siblings. Hal, Pierre, Bella. And others that he never recognized. John was not foolish enough to think that his father, Bluff King Hal, was content with just three natural children.
Argh. John wanted to bang his head against the wall. He sounded like an idiot. He was an idiot.
He stopped and stood up, pacing around his room. He felt like screaming, or crying, the feeling bubbling up deep in his chest. John didn't know exactly what to do, what to say or how to make her look at him. He hated that; he was the king of England, John II and yet, he couldn’t find any words inside of him to say to Kitty. Even in a letter. Even in a godforsaken fucking letter. His hand trembled whenever he picked up the quill and the ink spilled all over the paper like blood.
John stopped. He remembered the stories about his great-grandfather, Edward IV. Maybe, if Queen Catherine had lived through his birth, he would've been named Edward in honour of the white rose. They said he was handsome and the tallest king to ever reign over England. And then there was his father… With such a legacy hanging over him, it was a wonder how he managed to cope.
John stopped before the window that looked over the lush gardens of his palace. Bessie was sitting on a stone bench with her ladies-in-waiting and her governess, doing some sewing under the warm sunlight. It took hardly a minute for John to find Kitty Howard, wearing a brown dress and pouting as she slid the needle in and out of a cream-coloured fabric in her hands. She looked beautiful, her eyes like two pairs of amber in a face as beautiful as dawn.
His heart raced, stuttered and skipped a beat, all at once. As if it had forgotten how to work. John remembered that his mother had spoken of taking his sisters to the country, to retire from court and give him space to flourish as his own man. He'd be married soon, his mother said, and his new wife had to have her turn in the sun.
His father had started to build a palace named after St James and his mother offered to take residency there. To bring his sisters with her, and their own households as well. Maybe that would be enough to make him forget it. Forget her.
Yes, some distance would do them both good.
--
Toledo, Castile. 29th of June, 1537.
María found her brother with their grandfather. They were often together these days, talking and sharing secrets in English as if no one else could understand the language at court. It irked her.
María loved her grandfather and brother both, she really did, but she hated being left out. This was her family as well, she deserved knowing what they were talking about.
Both Felipe and Abuelo turned to look at her when she entered, her brother sitting in a large carved chair before an even larger table and Abuelo stood beside him. He was holding a stack of papers as if he was a councillor and the sight greatly puzzled María. Father always took care to keep Abuelo at arm's length but with him gone and Felipe in charge of the regency, there was nothing to stop him.
"María, a pleasure to see you," her brother said, quickly changing the language to French. "What brings you here?"
"The agreement with King João was that I'd travel to Portugal with the Portuguese entourage once you were wed for a month," said María. She spoke carefully, slowly, to not exert herself and yet, her body wavered. Grandfather moved to pull a chair for her and María smiled thankfully at him. "But Doña Leonor told me today that you have decided to delay it."
"Yes," Felipe said with a smile. "There is an outbreak of the plague on our borders with Portugal. It is for the best to delay your trip until the disease is contained."
"Our borders are large," said María, her voice tense. "I sincerely doubt that there is plague in every league of it."
Felipe shrugged. "Forgive me, sister, but I'd hate to risk your health and that of your new household," he said. "You will travel in August, I promise."
"Yes, you promise and promise, until you find another reason to delay it," María murmured, shaking with anger. "I want to go, why can't you see that? I want to marry Afonso."
"You're a girl," Felipe said, shaking his head. "You're too young to be married."
"He won't consummate the marriage until I'm fifteen!" María shrieked. "You promised me you wouldn't do this! You promised me you wouldn't delay my travel!"
"I'm doing this for you," said Felipe. "One day, when your children are towering over you and you are healthy and strong, you will understand, sister."
María shook her head. "I won't," she said. Her weak heart raced, stuttering deep in her chest and she was unable to steady her breaths. "If you don't let me go to Afonso before the end of the year, I will never forgive you."
"Never is a long time," her brother answered. He shook his head. "I'm serious about this. I will not risk your life, María."
"So you will risk my happiness?" she shrieked again. Her grandfather knelt beside her, placing his hand over her chest and she was unable to stop her own body, her chest rising and falling fast.
The last thing she heard before the darkness was her brother calling for a physician.
--
Dijon, Habsburg Burgundy. 12th of August, 1537.
Charles observed the plains before him, the sight of all that he had conquered. All that he had bled and sweated for. Burgundy, once again in the hands of his family. Was it worth it? He didn't know. All things tasted like ash in his mouth.
He turned around and walked back inside his rooms, sitting at the table filled with a sumptuous lunch for him. Charles took a single orange from the silver trail before him, his joints red and swollen and the knife next to him, slowly peeling it. When he started eating, he fished out the engraved medal on his pocket and looked at it.
Anne. Her face had been worked into the metal by his command, her features as faithful as the image in his head. When he was first given a finish medal, Charles had ordered them to start it again. Her nose was not right, it was longer, but eventually, the jewellers made it work.
Anne liked oranges. She enjoyed all the exotic fruits and vegetables that came from the Indies or the Americas. Made him acquire a taste for it. Charles chewed the fruit slowly, the juices running down his chin and he stared at the medal. It was all he could do these days, to keep himself sane.
He had washed his hands in the basin and was trying to deal with the pile of papers before him when a servant entered his rooms. Charles barely paid attention to the page, only raising his eyes when the boy stopped and bowed before him. In his hands, there was a sealed letter over a silver platter.
Charles took it. The letter bore the seal of his children in Toledo, the coat of arms of an infante or infanta of Castile and Aragon. He sighed and broke it, unfolding the paper to read the letter.
Dearest father,
My brother has lied to me. He does not wish to see me off to marry the Prince of Portugal. Neither this year or the next. He intends to wait until I am stronger and negate the accord reached between the Emperor and the King of Portugal.
I fear what his stubbornness will lead to. Please, help me convince him. I'm begging you. You're my only hope.
By the hand of your loving daughter,
María.
Charles looked at the page. "Send out orders to pack my things," he said. "We will be leaving for Spain in the morning."
He fished out the medal in his pocket once again and pressed a fierce kiss to Anne's visage. No matter what, he was coming home.
Yessir! There's hoping John takes after him in military prowess as well.
Charles is going home, it's about time!! Also, poor Felipe and Maria. He's only trying to look out for her, as is his duty as the eldest, but I get why she's fuming with him for being so protective...
John seem more controlled then his father luckily. Charles and Felipe reckoning is coming.
Poor John is really suffering with his affection for Katheryn. First love is never a comfortable feeling. And hopefully the situation with Felipe, Maria, and Charles can be resolved.
Aww poor John, I hope that he and Katheryn will be able to be together. I'm sure Charles returning will be interesting to say the least...
I do believe, Maria, that the phrase is "snitches are bitches and get stitches". Also, you literally just had an attack. I do believe he's saving your ass, girl.
María is 13. She thinks her brother is taking away her happily ever after.
True, but if she doesnt take things easy that HEA will be VERY short.
She's a romantic 13 year old, that's to be expected. But taking it easy is essential.
I think her life is as taking it easy as it gets. She's not exactly plowing the fields.
I am not implying that, but the girl had an attack from getting overly emotional, getting her emotions in check would be far better wording then.