An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
I think it was Anne Shelton who was comprehensive to Mary, but considering Anne Boleyn never became Mary's enemy in this story, there's no reason to think Madge won't be as loyal to her new mistress as she was to her cousin OTL.
Isn't Mary just ten years old right now? Would it not be better for her to leave for France when she's fifteen or sixteen instead as usual?
She is, but when Henry demanded that François be entitled as Duke of Brittany and live in Nantes after his marriage so Mary wouldn't be under Francis' thumb, the King of France demanded in return that she be sent to Nantes immediately.
I love the way the relationship between Mary and Isabel has developed. Great update!
Well this is going to end really well...hopefully. And hopefully there is no Margaret Beaufort childbirth 2.0 scenario
Considering François will only reach legal age to consummate the marriage when Mary is already 16, I don't think we'll have to fear something like that happening.
Mary couldn't hate her forever. It's just too hard to hate someone who loves you as honestly as Isabella loves her stepchildren.
I don't think that's possible. They can only consummate the marriage once François is 14 and Mary will be sixteen then, perfectly capable of bearing children without worry.
Exactly. Although Mary is small, she'll be much more developed at 16 than her great-grandmother was at 13. Women who are little today can give birth without a problem and Mary doesn't have dwarfism, so she should be fine.
Even with an earlier son, Isabella was very much keen on the idea of a close family, seen the way she raised her own children OTL along with Leonor de Mascarenhas. Although there was pomp and ceremony on important days, the private times were very centered around family, religion and love.
I honestly can't have bad stepdaughter/stepmother relations considering my own relationship with my stepmother is pretty chill.
3rd of March, 1526.
Valladolid, Castile. 3rd of March, 1526.
Her steps into the royal palace were determined, her voluminous skirts swishing dramatically with every movement of her legs. Elizabeth could feel the stare of those who came her way, wondering what she was doing in those kingdoms of her brother and mother, the Spanish realms she had never before seen. Behind her, two of her ladies attempted to keep up with her march, with four guards trailing around and behind her.
They were there supposedly for her own protection, but Elizabeth knew what their true purpose was: to stop her from trying to escape her predicament, having accompanied her since Charles first sent the summons to Flanders.
She twisted her fingers, trying to control her anger as she continued down the corridors and lead herself to the throne room. The people around her dressed strangely, with wide eyes at the German-inspired Danish fashion she wore. Elizabeth was sure that, if they were not already expecting her, they’d see her a stranger. Her skirts are rather narrow for their standards, the white and black matched by her feathered hat, and their arrogant faces remind her of what her father used to say about the Spaniards.
She wonders how she must look to them. She has never once stepped foot in the lands of her mother and brother before this moment. She was raised in her father’s lands, sent to her husband’s, and that much is clear in every facet of her bearing. She looks at the ladies in luxuriant fabrics and costly jewels, the men similarly adorned in a way that could make her lips quirk upward if she were not so enraged.
“Her Majesty, Elizabeth of Austria, Queen of Denmark and Norway,” said the announcer as the doors opened and Elizabeth marched inside, her expression curled into a deep scowl. It had been many years since she last saw her brother, but Charles would not see her smile. He’d not think her pleased by this forced marriage he had sprung up on her.
The courtiers who were deemed important enough to attend this ‘reunion’ bowed upon sight of her, but her eyes were not directed towards them. Instead, Elizabeth looked at the couple sitting proudly on their thrones, the thrones that had once belonged to her grandparents.
Were the circumstances different, she might have found it within herself to weep. Looking upon her brother, she saw some of their departed father, although the traces were thin. Lost amidst the more prominent features inherited from their mother. He was certainly no longer the older brother she had once known and loved. All at once, the anger rose up in her and she stared up at him with all her defiance, her back becoming rigid as she stood firm.
Elizabeth walked even closer to him, ignoring the customs of curtsying before the King and Emperor. When she was close enough, she twisted her lips and spat on his face. Charles flinched away, closing his eyes immediately, and everyone present gasped.
“I hope you find much to rejoice in your marriage and with your children,” she said, “For when you die, you will burn in hell.”
Charles cleaned his face. “How dare you?” he asked, eyes dark with rage.
“Would that I could slap you as well without fear of your men dragging me from this court. Are they to protect me from your enemies, or to protect you from myself, dear brother?” Elizabeth looked at Anne, whose eyes were wide as saucers, a hand brought to her mouth in shock. “How lovely to see you, Anne. I remember you well from when you served my aunt as one of her maids of honour.” She smiled, humourless. “How high you have risen, dear, but it warms my heart to see you are quite the same as before. A diplomat’s daughter playing at refinement.”
“How dare you?” Charles asked, still wiping at his face as he stood up.
“How dare I? How dare I?“ She shook her head. “Our father would weep for shame if he saw you.”
“You shall be confined to your rooms until you have regained your senses,” said Charles, sitting back. “Clearly, the travel and the separation from your daughter have caused harm to your spirit. Thankfully, I’m certain you will be much better in time for your wedding at the end of the week.”
“Your Majesty,” said Elizabeth, giving him a mocking curtsy. She did not spare him, nor Anne, a second glance before she turned her back to both and walked out from where she came from.
--
Vienna, Austria. 26th of March, 1526.
When he was a child, Ferdinand had always wondered why his mother was left so broken by his father’s death. King Fernando of Aragon had never made his contempt for both unclear, which certainly influenced him during his early childhood. He resented the Queen for allowing herself to be overtaken by her grief, to not put herself back together for the sake of her children, but now…
Now he almost understood her.
The pain of being apart from George was ever-present, an almost insufferable weight on his heart. It didn’t fade, it didn’t falter for even a moment. He tried to occupy himself with Anna, with their growing family, with the affairs of his holdings, but still, his thoughts returned to the Englishman at every opportunity.
It was maddening, and he felt he could finally understand his mother’s plight after years of blissful ignorance. But then, his mother had grieved her true and lawful husband, while Ferdinand…
He thought of little Elisabeth who was the jewel of their eyes, their long-awaited Liesl. And then there was Anna’s growing belly that promised another child after years of praying and beseeching the Lord to grant them a child. He’d been so overjoyed when Anna announced her pregnancy with Elisabeth, he’d felt that God was smiling upon them at last.
And then he had remembered George, and how it was a sin for a man to lay with another man, and how adultery was grievous as well. Liesl suddenly seemed so young and small, and Ferdinand had panicked at the thought that what the Lord had given to him could well be taken away as repayment for his sins.
He had to do his duty to Austria, to Anna, and to the Lord. He had to call an end to his encounters with George and ask the Lord for forgiveness, to forge ahead on the path that was laid out for him. And when Anna’s belly began to grow a second time, he took it for nothing less than a sign that he was right to do what he did. The Heavenly Father was rewarding him for his repentant heart and dutiful return to his wife’s arms with a second child.
And still, the ache remained. He told himself to ignore it and it grew stronger. He prayed and prayed, trying to convince himself that the Devil had tempted him for a fleeting moment and he had come out stronger. It was clear that the Devil was attempting to win back his soul with vile thoughts and longings. He just had to stand firm and continue to move forward, to forget the affair entirely.
He had other things to be concerned with. His family. Austria. The Empire. His heartache was of little importance.
That’s what he told himself at least and every day that passed without news from Stuttgart beyond George’s health and the new Duchess’ quickness in settling at her court was a day with an empty heart and a guilty mind.
Ferdinand was spending his evening with Anna and Liesl in his private quarters. He was bouncing his daughter on his knee as Anna watched on with a fond smile, embroidering a handkerchief for their new babe.
“I hope you will remain as loving to our son as you are to our daughter,” said Anna. Ferdinand raised his eyes from where he was looking, observing Liesl attempting to stuff his necklace into her mouth. When he looked at his wife, he found her penetrating gaze staring directly at him, as if she could see his heart. “We ought to consider names. Perhaps Johanna, for your mother? Or for one of your sisters?”
Ferdinand chuckled. “Are you already so sure we will be blessed with a new daughter?” he asked, smoothing Liesl’s golden locks away from her eyes.
Anna sighed, setting aside her embroidery.
“I like to be prepared,” she said. “Then let’s consider male names too.” She smiled, placing her two hands on her swollen stomach. “I think your brother will expect a Karl after him or maybe another Philip.”
“My brother thinks he rules the world and everyone should bow down to him,” he said acidly. Anna laughed but quickly became serious again. “His eldest male-line nephew being named Karl would only inflate his already huge ego.”
“Then maybe…” She hesitated, licking her lips. “Georg? After the Duke of Wurttemberg?” When he said nothing, merely stared at her, Anna flushed. “You two are dear friends, and he was so very charming.”
“What are you trying to say?” he asked.
She reached out to him, her eyes gentle as her hand found his cheek. “What do you think I’m trying to say?” she asked. “Ferdinand, I’m your wife. You can’t hide things from me.”
“Anna..” he said, softly. Liesl made a questioning sound, her fist shoved in her mouth, and Ferdinand sighed as he placed her back in her bassinet. She seemed upset, her lower lip trembling, but quieted once he placed a doll inside with her.
“You’re sad, Ferdinand,” said Anna. “You can't hide it from me.”
“I made a vow to you,” he said. “I swore to be faithful and loyal.”
“Don’t claim this is for me,” Anna responded, not unkindly. “I never asked you to send George away.”
”It is against the law of the Lord,” he responded.
“Many things are against the Lord’s law,” said Anna. She bit her lower lip, twisting her hands in her skirts. “I too have sinned against you, husband.”
“What?”
The door to his chambers opened. Ferdinand stood up automatically as one of his grooms entered, face flushed.
“What is the meaning of this?” Anna asked, also standing up, though with much difficulty considering her large belly.
“Your Highness, forgive me for my intrusion but there are two men without who beg for an audience with you.” He looked at Anna, eyes wide. “They are from Hungary, my lady.”
Anna must have understood what it was immediately, for her eyes filled with tears and she brought a hand to her mouth. “Lajos… My poor sweet Lajos…”
“Send them in,” Ferdinand demanded, not averting his eyes away from his wife.
The first man had barely entered before Anna stood to address him. “István, is it true? Has my poor Lajos…”
The broad-shouldered Hungarian man nodded solemnly, his dark brown beard flecked with grey as he spoke. “The King was lost in battle against the infidels,” he said in a gruff voice. Ferdinand noticed the coat of arms on his cloak, red and white claws. A sign of familial strength and power in the Hungarian plains. “I wish I could comfort you with the knowledge he died boldly in battle, surrounded by his men, fighting against those damned Turks.” He shook his head. “But this would be a lie. He drowned while crossing the Csele. He fell from his horse and the armour weighed him down. By the time his men could reach him, it was too late.”
Anna nodded, eyes turning to the other man in the room. “And you, Jiří Bezdružický?” she asked. “Are you here to do what I think you are doing as well?”
The second man nodded. “The accord between your father, King Vladislaus and Emperor Maximilian left the inheritance to Bohemia and Hungary clear.” He pulled a long blade from his waist and Ferdinand stepped back, shocked. István did the same and they both knelt, presenting him with their swords.
“Meghalt a király” said István, voice bold and loud in the dark room. “Éljen a király!”
Ferdinand looked at Anna and she returned his look. He reached out for her and their hands intertwined as everything changed.
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Damn, Elizabeth of Denmark really is going off and I am HERE for it. We Stan an outspoken woman in history. Kinda sad to see her putting Anne down but it’s understandable considering her current situation.
And Anna coming through with some angst of her own. Really hopeful to see this conversation continue later, but unfortunately more pressing issues with Hungary await.