An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
Tbh i cant see anne naming her daughter with the same name as one of her husband's bastards
Would be funny/ironic if charles and Anne named their first daughter Catalina after Catherine of Aragon
Me neither, reason for which I suggested to name a girl after Margaret of Burgundy with Juana, Ana or Leonor (as I do not believe Isabel, Catalina or Maria likely to be used and Beatriz, while a family name, is outside the immediate one)
Pretty unlikely name
I mean, the really unlikely names are the ones I dislike, and you happen to say my own name is highly unlikely, though I like my name very much so
Catalina is unlikely for the firstborn daughter but it could happen if they have many daughters. The first two will definitely be Margarita and Juana, third probably Maria or Leonor but Catalina could be a fourth or fifth daughter.
Neither Anne nor Charles have a good relationship with Queen Juana at the moment though
I can not see Anna and Charles naming their eldest daughter with the same name name of both his illegitimate daughter AND the Portuguese’s cousin who he refuted to marry. You need to keep in mind what is convenient/appropriate for both Charles and Anne
Still is less controversial than Isabel, Catalina or Maria
Perhaps Ana or Leonor could work, while the latter is less likely, for the first there is precedent in Iberia for Spanish Queens naming their eldest daughter after themselves
I think Leonor could be fun, I’m always a proponent of not making the most obvious name. I also think it’s one of the prettier options. But perhaps Margarita after Margaret of Austria who was important to them both (plus Anne can stealth name her daughter after Marguerite of Angoulême also 
) would be the best option.
Although, we’re assuming it’s a girl this time…could be a second boy.
) would be the best option.Although, we’re assuming it’s a girl this time…could be a second boy.
Not Spanish enough, I fear. Plus Thomas Boleyn definitely do not deserve it (unlike George). In any case Juan or Fernando is way more likely
6th of September, 1523.
Zaragoza, Aragon. 6th of September, 1523.
Charles found Anne in his bedroom.
She was seated on his bed, back turned to him. He could see she was wearing a simple blue dress, one he recognized from her time in England, and her dark hair was cascading down her back. He saw her shoulders tensing up as he stepped inside, noticing his presence. Charles sighed.
A part of him was tired of this pretence. Of them dancing around the subject, never willing to talk about. Another, however, was only too scared to hear what she had to say to him. He remembered the book he found in her rooms, the book he was too hesitant to burn if he hadn’t been afraid of her reaction should he do it.
He looked at his wife. Or at her back. He still needed time to think. To think about what he had seen, what he had learned. He missed the old days of their marriage, the ship that took them to Spain. He missed her laugh, her eyes, her touch. He missed everything and it was because of him that they did not have that anymore.
Anne turned slightly to look at him, only showing her profile. He saw her long and thin nose and her soft chin. He wanted to kiss that chin.
“I met with Queen Germana yesterday,” she said, pausing along with her words as if she was unable to say them, “She showed me her daughter.” Anne turned fully then, bringing one leg over the bed and looking at him directly. Her eyes were blazing with fury or sadness, but he couldn’t say which, “Your daughter.”
“Idle gossip,” he responded, “Germana played a joke and people did not know how to react.” He sighed, “She has told me that you attempted to expel her from the palace. That will not happen again. There is still a week before she leaves and you will apologize to her.”
“You want me to apologize to the woman you are making love to?”
Charles sighed. She could be so frustrating sometimes. “I am not making love to her.”
“But you did, did you not?” she accused in a shout, “I saw the proof, walking around. She even has your chin.”
Anne moved, her face coming in contact with the light provided by the candles, and he saw that her cheeks were wet. She had been crying. Somehow, that knowledge twisted something in his heart. She crawled the rest of the bed and came up close to him, putting her feet delicately on the floor.
“You slept with your own grandmother,” she murmured, her words heavy with anger, hatred and love. Charles looked away as if she had slapped him with her sayings. It was a full minute before he looked back at her. Anne arched an eyebrow, challenging him, “You slept with the widow of your grandfather and you are shameless.”
“Anne,” he said, “You don’t understand.”
“Explain it to me,” she dared, “Explain to me how that can make sense.” Anne stood up and walked close to him, her face so near his that their lips brushed and their breaths mingled, “Germana told me that you promised to marry her. That your daughter was conceived on such a promise, meaning she is legitimate, whereas my children are only bastards.”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, “Do you want me to lie and say that I did not promise her such? I cannot. It’s true.” He sighed, “Adrian of Utrecht convinced me not to do so before he ascended to the papacy. I arranged Germana a marriage and sent her way.”
Anne placed her two hands on his chest and pushed him with such force that he stepped back, unbalanced. Charles swayed before he shifted his feet around, coming up tall before her. He stared at her.
“You are my wife,” he said, “From the day we married in England and to the day I die, you are my wife. Felipe is and always will be my heir.”
She ignored his words. “How many more bastards do you have?”
“Anne…”
“Tell me!” she demanded as tears streamed down her cheeks. Anne was speaking so loudly that he thought anyone in the palace would be able to hear her. For some reason, he did not care, “How many more bastards do you have? How many more illegitimate children should I expect from my lecherous husband?”
“Four, counting Isabel,” he said.
She slapped him. Charles’ head whipped away as his cheek burned, smarting under her violent touch. He brought a hand to his face. “You are a weak and shameless excuse of a man,” said Anne, “Could you not maintain your chastity and virtue, as I did for you? Could you not have invited your mistress back, along with her daughter, to parade them in front of me?”
“Valencia needed a vicereine and Germana is familiar with the government,” he answered, “I had no choice.”
She slapped him again, this time on the other cheek. “You had every choice!” screamed the Empress. Anne fisted her hands and hit them against his chest, over and over, crying and screaming, “Where is your honour? Where is your stupid honour?” He tried to grab hold of her arms, or her elbows, trying to still her movements, but she continued, slapping him away, “You bastard! I gave you everything, I left my home and my family for you! Where is your honour?” Charles struggled to calm her as she continued to hit him, crying and sobbing. He wrapped his two arms around her and pulled her close, pressing her so tightly against him that she could not move, “Where is your love for me?”
“It’s here,” he whispered. Charles pressed his lips against hers, “I love you, Anne. Truly. I do.”
She sobbed, their lips still together. He could taste her salty tears. He pulled her closer even, placing her head against his shoulder as they embraced, arms tight around each other, not wanting to let go.
“I’m with child again,” she whispered weakly, staining his doublet with her tears.
Charles felt his heart race. “I’m sorry,” he answered in return.
“Sorry? What for?” she asked him, pulling herself from his chest. Her bleary eyes met his clear ones and he swallowed down the need to kiss, “What is done is done. Now you must fix it."
"How shall I do that?" he asked.
"Never leave my side again," she begged, reaching out to clutch his shirt. "Do not leave me."
He wanted to say that he wouldn’t. To pull her close and kiss her with a promise that they would never be apart. For as long as they lived, they would be together.
But he couldn’t.
“France has declared war against my brother-in-law for Milan,” he said, “As their ally, we must defend them against the French invaders. I have just returned from a council of war.”
“You will go to Italy?” asked Anne, still in his arms, “You will leave me and our children?”
“I will come back,” he said, “But I don’t rule just Spain. Francis might try to take Naples for himself, once he is done with Milan. I can’t let that happen.”
“Will you come back to see the birth?” He did not answer her. His silence was enough. Anne stepped back and he let her, “So you will leave me alone in a country that hates me?”
“If I want our son to rule someday, I must defend his future territories with all that I have,” said Charles, “You are still Queen of Castile and León, and Queen of Aragon. You will be well cared for.”
“Am I to be your regent?” she asked, a hand on her lip and another on her flat stomach.
Charles hesitated. “No,” he said, “The Duke of Alba will have the honour.” Then, as she turned her face away, he said, “But I have left clear instruction that Felipe is to remain in your custody. With the heir to the throne under your eye, you will have as much power as the regent.”
She nodded. “I hope to return to Toledo,” she said, “Before my belly grows too large. The Castilians are kinder to me than the Aragonese.”
He nodded. "I will make the necessary arrangements," he said. Thus, he brokered an agreement with her more like business partners than husband and wife.
Interesting to see Charles thinking about the future of little Philip. Anne is pretty right to be nervous of her husband leaving her behind, all things considered. She isn’t the most beloved empress consort and she hasn’t been given the regency. Granted, the regency could come with its own gauntlet but it would also bump Anne’s credit as more than just a consort. Can’t wait to see where this goes.
