Well, she has this "I'm a king's daughter, you are only minor nobility" attitude.
An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
...if you put it that way, that's....not that unusual, hell there are some modern non-royals with this attitude
Well good to see Bessie served a slice of humble pie considering her attitude towards the new Queen is unbecoming of a future Duchess. Felipe naming his daughter for Luis was precious and I sincerely hope this trend of Felipe snubbing his father continues into the future because Charles has definitively earned it.
Family Tree - Tudors
King Henry VIII of England (1491-1535) m. a) Catherine of Aragon (1485-1523); b) Isabella of Portugal (1503-). Affairs with: c) Elizabeth 'Bessie' Blount (1498- ); d) Luisa Borja (1500-1526); e) Katherine 'Kat' Chapernowne (1502-)
- a) Henry, Duke of Cornwall (January 1511- February 1511). Lived for almost two months.
- a) Mary Tudor (February 1516-) m. François III, Duke of Brittany (Fenruary 1518- ).
- Francoys, Count of Montfort (June 1534-);
- Catherine de Valois (February 1538 -);
- Unborn child due in June 1540.
- c) Henry Fitzroy, Earl of Somerset (June 1519-1528). Illegitimate;
- a) King John II of England (January 1523-) m. Katherine Howard (1524-);
- a) Katherine Tudor (January 1523-December 1523). Twin to John, lived for almost an entire year;
- b) Edward, Duke of York (August 1524-August 1530). Drowned;
- d) Pierre Fitzroy, Earl of Gloucester (June 1526-). Illegitimate m. Dorothy Stafford (October 1526-);
- b) Elizabeth Tudor (June 1527-) b. Juan of Austria, Duke of Burgundy (January 1526-);
- b) Henry, Duke of Somerset (September 1529-April 1530). Died a sickly infant;
- b) Eleanor Tudor (September 1531-) b. James, Duke of Rothesay (May 1531-);
- b) Margaret Tudor (May 1533-) b. Frederik, Hereditary Prince of Norway (January 1536-);
- e) Isabella Fitzroy (March 1534-). Illegitimate. Known as Isabella Ashley.;
Family Tree - Valois
King Francis of France (September 1494-) m. a) Claude of France, Duchess of Brittany (October 1499-July 1524); b) Elisabeth of Austria, Dowager Queen of Denmark and Norway (July 1501-December 1531); c) Edwige of Poland (March 1513-)
- a) Louise de France (August 1515-September 1518);
- a) Charlotte de France (October 1516-September 1524);
- a) François III, Duke of Brittany (February 1518 -) b. Marie Tudor (February 1516-);
- Francoys, Count of Montfort (June 1534-);
- Catherine de Valois (February 1538 -);
- Unborn child due in June 1540.
- a) Henri, Duke of Orléans (March 1519-) m. Marie de Guise (November 1515-);
- Marie de Orléans (June 1538- ).
- a) Madeleine de France (August 1520-November 1530);
- a) Charles, Duke of Angoulême (January 1522-);
- a) Marguerite de France (June 1523-);
- b) Antoinette de France (August 1529-) b. Nicholas, Duke of Bar (October 1524-);
- b) Sophie de France (November 1531-). Twin to Louis de France. B. Jean d'Albret (July 1530-);
- b) Louis, Duke of Alençon (November 1531-). Twin to Sophie de France.
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Family Tree - Stewarts
James V of Scotland (April 1512-) m. Anna von Kleve (1515-)
- James, Duke of Rothesay (May 1531-) b. Eleanor of England (September 1531-);
- Arthur, Duke of Ross (1532-1536). Died of smallpox;
- Anne Stewart (July 1534-July 1536). Died of smallpox.
- Robert, Duke of Albany (April 1538- ).
- John Stewart (June 1539-)
Family Tree - Austrian Habsburgs
King Ferdinand I of Bohemia and Hungary (March 1503-) m. Anna of Bohemia and Hungary (July 1503-)
- Elisabeth of Austria (July 1525-) bet. Zygmunt August (August 1520-);
- Maximilian of Austria (July 1526-) b. Juana of Austria (December 1526-);
- Anna of Austria (July 1527-) b. Karl Ferdinand Bullen (September 1527-);
- Ferdinand of Austria (June 1528- ) b. Báthori Erzsébet (1528 -);
- Maria of Austria (May 1530-). A novice in a convent;
- Magdalena of Austria (August 1532-) b. Johann Ludwig of Cleves (February 1534-);
- Katharina of Austria (September 1533-);
- Eleonore of Austria (November 1534-);
- Margarethe of Austria (February 1536-);
- Georg of Austria (April 1537- March 1538);
- Barbara of Austria (April 1538- ).
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Family Tree - Spanish Habsburgs.
Emperor Charles V of the Holy Roman Empire (February 1500-) m. Anne Boleyn (1503-May 1536)
- Felipe, Prince of Asturias (April 1523-) m. Infanta Joana of Portugal (1520-);
- Ana de Austria (February 1538 -);
- Luisa de Austria (January 1540-).
- María of Austria (April 1524-) m. Afonso, Prince of Portugal (August 1522-);
- Unborn child due in April 1540.
- Juan, Duke of Burgundy (January 1526-) b. Elizabeth of England (June 1527-)
- Juana of Austria (December 1526-) b. Maximilian of Austria (July 1526-);
- Margarita of Austria (March 1529-) b. Emmanuel Philibert (July 1528 -);
- Catalina of Austria (November 1531-);
- Fernando of Austria (August 1533-);
- Eduardo of Austria (July 1534-);
- Isabel of Austria (May 1536-).
Family Tree - Sforzas
Duke Francesco II of Milan (February 1495-November 1535) m. Catalina of Austria (January 1507-)
- Ludovico II, Duke of Milan (October 1523-) m. Caterina de' Medici (April 1519-)
- Paolo Sforza (March 1538- )
- Massimiliano Sforza (September 1524-) b. Violante d'Este (1527-)
- Margherita Sforza (November 1525-) m. Friedrich II, Count Palatine of the Rhine (December 1482-)
- Beatrice Sforza (August 1526-May 1528)
- Francesco Sforza (October 1527-)
13th of January, 1540.
Château de Rambouillet, France. 13th of January, 1540.
Francis held Francoys in his lap, the child perched on one of his knees as he fiddled with the new toy that he had recently received from his kingly grandfather. His face was pensive, and curious, turning the little soldier this way and that to examine every side of him. The Count of Montfort, and second in line to the French throne, was a handsome boy of six years, as red-headed as his mother, but with Francis’ brown eyes. Healthy too, with none of his paternal grandmother’s deficiencies. When he raised the toy to his mother, he exclaimed happily and with a clear voice, “He has a sword, maman!”
Francis chuckled, a full-belly laugh that caused others who were present to chuckle and coo at the little boy. “He does!” the Duchess of Brittany responded with just as much excitement. “Have you thanked your grandfather yet, my sweet boy?” As she spoke, she placed one hand on her stomach, the other holding onto her husband’s arm for support. Francis looked at her for only a brief moment, before he turned back to his grandson.
The Duchess had just announced another pregnancy, but when anyone looked at her, they could not yet see any hint of a child in her belly. Even though the King’s daughter-in-law was a small woman, and young at just twenty-three, she did not show fast under the rigid fashion demanded by the French court. It made some wonder if in Brittany, where all claimed the Duke and Duchess allowed a more relaxed and traditional environment, people would already be able to see the boy inside. Showing off to the world under his mother’s voluminous skirts.
Francoys turned back to his grandfather, blinking like a begging cat. “Merci, Grand-pére,” he said and Francis chuckled again, pulling the boy close so he could kiss his cheek. His grandson was a fine lad, already old enough to be handed off to his tutors, and clearly knew how to address his betters. When they arrived, after a long journey from Brittany to celebrate the New Year and another anniversary of the start of his reign, Francoys had bowed deeply and perfectly to his grandfather, and asked after his health most judiciously. It made Francis extremely proud to know that his line would continue with such a boy.
By Francis’ feet, his granddaughter Catherine played with one of his rings as her cousin, Marie de Orléans examined the many dolls gifted to her by her grandfather sitting beside her. Marie had been named after her aunt and future queen, so far the only child of Francis’ second son Henri and his wife, Marie de Guise. The two cousins were the same age, but so very different, as both took after their mothers. Marie de Guise was tall and dark-haired, whereas Marie de Angleterre was small, and with hair as red as blood.
The rest of his children, apart from Antoinette, were present as well. Sweet Antoinette, his eldest from his second marriage, had been made a ward of the Duke of Lorraine to secure their alliance, since she would soon be wed to the Duke’s son and heir, Nicholas. Her younger siblings, the twins Sophie and Louis, were playing with their own gifts, trapped in a world of their own. Their bond often isolated them from others.
It made Francis think, if it would not be better, for when Sophie eventually married her cousin Jean, heir to Navarre, to name Louis as the Duke of Gascony, instead of Alençon. So that the twins might always be close and their bond maintained, if Sophie had to suffer an existence so far from Paris and her other siblings. He didn’t doubt that the idea would please Edwige, who had taken a special interest in the twins’ welfare since she had no children of her own.
She made for a fine Queen, a glittering ornament for his side who held her position in his court as a matter of personal pride. She never failed to hold herself with grace and a regal bearing. He was thankful for her, for her presence kept his court in fine order, the way a captain might hold sway over a ship. There were even times he wished he were younger, more resemblant of the man he was when he first took the crown, so that he might enjoy her for all the longer.
The physician said he would not have any more children, and poor Edwige would have to rely on the good will of François when he died, and then Francoys after him. It made sense for her to strive to broker a good relationship with his heirs. And she worked hard to make them love her.
But if he were younger, and healthier, then he would not have the secure position he could boast now, with four strong sons and a sturdy little grandson to carry on his name and ensure his dynasty didn’t fail. And it was with no small sense of satisfaction, as his eyes drifted to the south, that he could boast a good relationship with his heir, a beautiful wife, and a noble grandson.
All things the Austrian bastard lacked.
War was brewing again and Francis would not be stupid enough to miss the opportunity. Charles was distracted with the Protestant matter and he had not been the same since his wife died. If he played his cards right, and he had by sending the Duke of Longueville and his wife to Trent, then Francis could have everything. Milan, Navarre for his daughter. And so much more.
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Trent, Austria. 27th of February, 1540.
His horse neighed loudly when Charles pulled on his reins, angry at the offence, but the Emperor ignored it. “Hiya!” he called out, raising a hand to warn those behind him to stop. They had just arrived at the Castello del Buonconsiglio and he would not be distracted by an unruly animal or disobedient members of his household. Servants filtered out of the building, coming to greet him, and Charles dismounted, handing the leather reins to a man that came close.
The air was cold, biting as winter came to an end and Charles brought his glove-covered hands close to his mouth, stroking his chin in thought. His breath came out in white puffs of air and a thin snow fell around them, weak and melting upon his shoulders. They had better enter closed confinements soon, or they would soon be trapped, Charles feared. The castello didn’t belong to his family, but they had been given leave to use it as their residence during the first sessions of the Council. He could only hope it would be suitable.
Next to him, Juan dismounted from his brown-furred mare, expertly moving about his mount. He stopped for a brief moment to adjust his feathered hat over his blonde curls, cheeks red from the cold. Juan had recently turned fourteen and was as gangly and awkward as a boy his age could be, but when Charles looked at him, his son showed no hint of shyness or nerves. In fact, his blue eyes seemed pensive when he tilted his chin up, looking at the castello before them. He was ready.
“Come,” the Emperor said, placing a hand over Juan’s shoulder and his favourite son turned to look at him, shoulders back and tensed. “Your uncle awaits us.”
“Very well, Father,” Juan said in perfect French. Over the years where he lived in Burgundy and the Low Countries, Juan had forgotten the Castilian from his infancy. The language, the culture, all had been forgotten and he could no longer be called an Infante of Castile and Aragon, even if that was one of his official titles. His primary languages were French and Dutch, as they had been for Charles when he was his age.
He wrapped an arm around Juan, pulling him closer. His son chuckled and they climbed the steps together, entering the warm and strange environment of the castello. A servant, possibly a steward, offered to lead them to the great hall, where the King of Hungary and Bohemia and others awaited them.
It was a strange environment to be in. Legally, Trent was part of the County of Tyrol, which was under the Archduchy of Austria, but neither Charles nor Ferdinand had ever stepped foot in the city. The city that would now house hundreds, maybe thousands of delegates from around Europe, as they strove to bring an end to the Lutheran problem. And the Habsburgs didn’t even have an official residence in it.
The great hall, when they entered, bore banners of the House of Austria, and Charles and Ferdinand’s personal arms, but it was still an unknown place. There were heralds, and nobles all around them, a musician singing while another played the lute, and the smell of Austrian and Italian foods filtered inside his nose. But it was still not home.
“His Majesty, the Emperor and His Highness, the Duke of Burgundy,” a herald cried out, banging his staff twice against the floor. The people inside turned to look at them and Charles recognized many faces as they bowed and curtsied. The Elector Palatine, the Duke of Longueville and the Duchess. And his brother, with a youth beside him. Ferdinand was bowing, as was the boy, who could be no older than fifteen, with pale blonde hair much unlike his father’s brown head. Charles thought he knew who he was.
He walked to the throne, as Ferdinand was standing right before it. “Brother!” the Emperor exclaimed, pulling Ferdinand into an embrace. “How long has it been!” His brother laughed and hugged him back.
“Long indeed, Your Majesty.” When he stepped back, Charles observed his brother’s face. He seemed tired, with bags under his eyes, and he had grown a thick black beard around his pronounced chin. “Please, allow me to introduce my son, Maximilian.” He gestured to the boy beside him.
“Maximilian.” Charles was right then. He recognized his brother in his nephew, the round eyes and a strong chin that was not unlike his own, but Maximilian looked much like his mother. Charles could count in one hand the number of times he saw his sister-in-law and still have fingers to spare, but it was easy to recognize the Queen in her son. He had her hair, and her mouth.
He offered his hand and his nephew kissed his ring before bowing again. “A pleasure to meet you, uncle,” he said in practised Latin. “My father, the King, always speaks greatly of you.” Charles smiled.
“Maximilian, please, meet your cousin, my son Juan.” His son approached, bowing before his cousin and uncle. When they were there, standing so close, it was easy to see the familial resemblance between the two. They were both blonde, both around the same height and age, and with the same Habsburg pouty lip. Charles could only hope they would have similar interests. Austria and Burgundy were close realms.
He turned back to his brother. “I was certain I’d see the Queen,” he commented off-handedly.
Ferdinand smiled. “I’m afraid my wife is too heavy with child to make the trek from Vienna, brother,” he said.
“Another?” Charles asked. It seemed to him that his brother did little more than breed lately. “When?”
“June, if the midwife is to be trusted,” Ferdinand responded with a gentle air about him, as if speaking about his wife and children calmed him. Put him more at ease.
Charles remembered when he was like that. Foolishly in love. He could only hope that his brother would not suffer as he did. He grasped at his chest, where a locket containing a miniature of Anne rested under his clothes, and urged himself to calm down.
His eyes went to Juan, who was speaking in Latin with his cousin, as the two seemed to play a complicated game with their hands. He didn’t look like her, not really, but Juan was her son. And everything Charles was doing in Trent, even considering the idea of making peace with the heretics was for her. It was all for Anne.
“The Duke of Württemberg is expected to arrive next week,” Charles said off-handedly, distracted by a servant bringing in a platter of cakes. It was a pity that his attention was diverted, for if it had been focused on his brother, he would see how Ferdinand’s face paled to a ghostly white.