An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V

Reader mode

TheBookwormBoy

pandizzy said:
Stirling Castle, Scotland. 27th of September, 1547.​

Her stomach was so large now as to be ridiculous, swollen beyond belief. The physicians calculated a birth for late October and yet, Nora thought there was no way for her skin to continue stretching to accommodate her growing babe. It was only one child, everyone said it, and she looked much smaller than the Dowager Queen with her babies. As if that could be any consolation, when her belly ripped apart before the child was ready.

But everyone told her not to fret, with rolled eyes and disgruntled sighs. Angry at placating this child queen, while Jimmy was made to learn the ropes of ruling so soon. His father had unfinished plans to create another permanent settlement in the Americas with the name of Jamestown, and he was eager to see it done.

When Nora asked from where would the child come out, Mary Fiennes told her, with a disappointed glint in her eyes, that it would be from the same place it entered her. That seemed impossible to her, because how could the baby even pass through it? Nora didn't want her child to be crushed in her entrails and she decided that she must have misunderstood her lady.

Her sister-in-law Kitty was pregnant again, carrying her fifth child. That ought to be good, Nora imagined. Both of them expecting together, even if they were thousands of leagues apart. Jimmy told her that none of their children would marry into England, but maybe he was lying. Maybe he was just teasing her.

She didn’t think so, but there was no reason for it. It didn't hurt to hope.

She hoped it was a boy, a handsome prince that looked like her. Another James, or Robert, or Arthur. A Duke of Rothesay, to fill up her days and give her joy. But Nora knew it didn't matter if the child was a boy or not. She'd be happy with anything.

Boy or girl. James or Anne, she would be happy. Overjoyed, really, because this child was the answer to all of her prayers and to Nora, nothing could make her stop loving it.

--

Madrid, Castile. 12th of October, 1547.​

Felipe signed his name with a flourish, giving his final approval to the legal betrothal of Infante Carlos and Lady Isabella Tudor. She was the second daughter of the King of England, from a long line of extremely fertile women, and a descendant of Reina Isabel and Rey Fernando. And to improve upon the matter, she was English. Her mother was a first cousin to the deceased Empress.

To Felipe, Isabella was perfect.

The paper had already been signed by the Emperor and Joana, who stood behind him with a smile. His wife had the feeling that only a king’s daughter was enough for their precious, and only, son, a sentiment he shared wholeheartedly. To have the English on their side, rather than the French’s was a clear victory for them. Their island was a prime place for ships to be docked if they ever decided to take Navarre back, optimal for naval attacks on the French north. With Isabella by their son's side, Felipe was sure they would have a chance to do so.

With the final signature, Felipe slid the paper forward, so that the English ambassador could see it. The man, named Thomas Wyatt, smiled and read it carefully, as if to commit it to memory. The Prince took advantage of the moment to observe his face, which was extremely familiar. Strangely so, in fact. Surely, the man had been an ambassador to Castile before, and Felipe might remember him from his boyhood days. That distant age when his mother was regent and his father was gone, as he always was.

The Emperor left. Again. To go to Burgundy and be with his precious little duke, now that he had arranged the betrothal of Infanta Ana and the Count of Charolais.

"I'm looking forward to the day when I shall meet the lovely Isabella," Felipe murmured. Lady Isabella was only three and the marriage would not be celebrated until she was sixteen and could bear children for her husband, thirteen long years until then. Fine years that both she and Carlos could spend growing, maturing into two fine youths. Without the worries of being unpledged, Carlos and Isabella might even follow the example of her grandmother and exchange letters. Grow closer. "I'm certain that she will become the future queen that Castile and Aragon desperately need to stand by Carlos."

"My son is a good boy," Joana said. "Intelligent and kind hearted. Lady Isabella will be happy by his side, you can be assured of that, Master Wyatt."

Master Wyatt nodded his head with a gentle, but still cold smile. Felipe dismissed him with a movement of his hand, being left alone with his beloved wife. Joana smiled and leaned her behind against his desk, looking at him. She was twenty-seven now, with long dark hair and glittering eyes marked by laughing lines visible at its corners. They had agreed to stop having children when she gave birth to their fifth, and copulated only on days in which such an act would not result in a pregnancy, and Felipe had to hold himself back from touching her. It was not a good day, not yet anyway.

"That went well," he murmured, leaning back in his chair. "Now only Luisa and Elena are in need of matches."

“Luisa has a sweet and generous spirit,” Joana murmured. “I don’t want to see her with anyone but a man who will care for her and love her.”

“She is also a perfectionist, determined to always do well,” said Felipe. “I’m eager to see her as the mistress of her own court.” Joana snorted and he raised his eyes to look at her. “What is it?” She shook her head and he took her hand. “No, tell me. What’s so funny?"

“Nothing, it’s just,” Joana began. “So many women are living past what was expected now and wherever our girls will go, they shall have to contend with strong mother-in-laws. Elizabeth Tudor, Juanita…” She smiled. “I can only hope to love Isabella as I love our daughters, even if she is married to my only son.”

“Women…” Felipe shook his head. “All of you have a tendency to think that no girl is good enough for your precious little boy.”

“Because no one is,” Joana joked with a roll of her eyes. “But I’m being serious. If we must send our daughters anywhere, it must be with those who will love and care for them. Including kind mother-in-laws."

"Of course," said Felipe. "I won't send our girls to the vipers' nest." He played with his fingers, adjusting the ring around one. "My half-sister Margaretha married the Duke of Parma some years ago. She had twin sons and only one survived, Alessandro. He's two, I believe."

"Our girls can do better than a bastard's son," Joana complained. "Even if she is your sister."

He sighed. "You're right," he said. "As always, you're right."

"What about Carl of Savoy?" Joana suggested. "For Elena. Margarita's son."

"Another first cousin," Felipe complained. "It will weaken our blood, to marry so closely amongst each other."

"Your sisters have married all across Europe, my love," Joana said, squeezing his wrist. "The richest heirs are theirs. We can't deny it."

"No," Felipe said. "We can't." He shook his head. "And with our uncle Ferdinand so prolific in his marital duties, there are hardly any others that may be acceptable for our girls."

"Quite true," said Joana. "Unless the rulers of Europe do as your father and King John did, then our blood will continue to thin out. Stretched beyond its limits." He nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. "But if they do, our daughters and granddaughters will lose matches and husbands for them."

"I'm aware," Felipe murmured. He smirked then. "But if the rulers of Europe do as my father and King John did, then England will soon be completely out of women." She laughed then, a high and free laugh that utterly drowned out the sound of his door opening. A groom stepped inside, handing him a sealed letter on a silver platter, and Felipe sighed as he leaned in to take it.

He laughed. "What is it?" Joana asked, straightening her back.

"The Lord," Felipe began, "truly works in mysterious ways." He handed her the letter and spoke aloud, as she read it, "Our cousin Margarethe, upon being told she'd marry Paolo Sforza, ran from court. When our uncle's men found her, she had already said her vows and became a nun."

A smile curled across Joana's pink lips. "Paolo is only two years older than Luisa and now…" She didn't even need to finish her sentence. They all knew the opportunity that had just been presented to them.
Click to expand...
Nora really has her work cut out for her in Scotland. Her father and brother blamed for the deaths of successive kings, it’ll be a miracle if her reputation comes back from that major blow. Little Carlos being set to marry Isabella Tudor is so nice, I’m sure they’ll be happy together.
 

Zireael

I'm totally with the people criticizing the match Ferdinand made. I'm absolutely positive there IS someone better than the girl's literal uncle...
 

BoleynBuff

Zireael said:
I'm totally with the people criticizing the match Ferdinand made. I'm absolutely positive there IS someone better than the girl's literal uncle...
Click to expand...
There’s probably some Protestant Duke out there, but you know the Habsburgs. Why kiss a Calvinist when you could kiss a cousin/uncle?
 

Agatha

Man I can't help but feel bad for Nora, she may suffer a complication from childbirth in some way with how oblivious she seems to be with the process and how unwilling the Scottish are to help her. Maybe Anne's heart will soften to Nora upon seeing her suffer from being sheltered and isolated with childbirth as the cherry on the unpleasant sundae

Isabella of Portugal's daughters here just seem cursed in marriage, Bessie and Nora aren't having any luck with their husbands. Let's hope Maggie who's set for Denmark has better luck than her sisters
 
27th of November, 1547.
  • Index
    • pandizzy

    pandizzy

    Whitehall Palace, England. 27th of November, 1547.​

    Hardly had little Alfred Tudor taken the toy from his sister did Isabella take it back, to the young boy's great anger. His face grew as red as his hair and he shrieked, throwing his round body forward to take the wooden statuette back. But Isabella was just as much a Tudor as he was and she fought greatly, false tears running down her face.

    "No, Affie!" she bellowed. "My toy, mine!"

    "Mine!" the Duke of York responded. Kitty chuckled from her seat, struggling to adjust herself with her enlarged midsection pending her forward as two nurses strove to separate the children. "No, Isa-bella stupid. My toy!" Her beloved children. They might love each other, but they certainly didn't like the other. Isabella and Alfred did little else than fight about toys, food or who could sit in which place at the carriages. It was a wonder why the nurses insisted on bringing them together to visit her, when they clearly couldn’t get along.

    "Come, sweet prince," said an enlarged woman, taking the struggling child in her strong arms. "Let's give your poor mother some peace." Another offered a hand to Isabella, who held the wooden soldier in her hand triumphantly, a proud set to her chin. They barely even turned to look at Kitty for a goodbye, Alfred still squealing in a strange woman's arms and she watched them go, just as the door to her chambers opened.

    "The Duke of Norfolk, Your Majesty," said Lady Isabella Fitzroy, her husband's half-sister as she moved to follow her niece out of the room. Kitty nodded and shifted in her seat to welcome her uncle, who entered slowly. He bowed his head respectfully to her and turned slightly, watching the two squabbling siblings leave.

    “How are the children?” he asked in a gruff voice.

    Kitty smiled. “Fighting as siblings do,” she said and he nodded. Her uncle took a seat close to her and he reached forward, touching the ragdoll that was forgotten in one of her small, round tables.

    He smiled. "If I well remember, my Henry and my Mary could hardly see eye to eye before they came of age," he said. Kitty smiled. "Lord Alfred and Lady Isabella shall grow out of their petty arguments."

    "Hopefully," Kitty said, adjusting in her chair. Some of her ladies were surrounding them, sewing while Lady Norris showed off her talents with the virginals. Her uncle looked at her.

    "How are you feeling, Your Majesty?" the Duke asked.

    "Fat," Kitty admitted and settled her two hands on her stomach. "The King's heirs can grow so large that I'm hardly able to walk." Her uncle smiled.

    "I'm certain that the knowledge of your duty to the realm is a small reward for the loss of your figure, my queen," said the Duke of Norfolk. Kitty shrugged. "As long as, of course, the Queen remains with the strong constitution she always had."

    "I think so," said Kitty with a gentle expression. "This is my fifth child. I'm not scared of giving birth."

    "Of course," her uncle said. "The Queen has a nursery full of children. What is another?" The corner of Kitty's mouth curled up and she looked away, at a table close to her with platters filled to the brim with figs, grapes and cheeses. She took a fig between her fingers and bit into it, chewing slowly. "I heard that Queen Eleanor has given birth to a Duke of Rothesay. They named him Andrew, after the patron saint of Scotland." He paused as Kitty nodded, having already heard all of that. "And that the Duchess of Burgundy is pregnant again."

    The Queen looked at him. "Poor Bessie," she murmured. "If this continues, she will next push her own entrails out, instead of a child." Her hand ran down the curve of her belly, as if thinking about her fate. "I wish she would answer my letters. She'd find it much easier to shoulder her burdens with a friend by her side."

    "The Duchess' pride has pride. Her unhappy marriage is not your concern," Uncle Norfolk murmured and Kitty looked at him, surprised to see him speaking so brazenly about her sister-in-law. "The Queen is generous to offer a friendly hand, but the Duchess has the right to accept it or not."

    Kitty nodded. "You're right," she said. "I know Bessie. She felt her father's loss at an extremely young age and thus, shifted such a love towards the King. It irked her to see him marry someone she did not approve of." She smiled. "Do you know what Charlie told me?"

    "What, Your Majesty?" the Duke asked.

    "He said that perhaps, the Duchess was angered not just because of the difference in station between the King and I, but rather, because she saw me as something that belonged to her," Kitty said, her face flushed. "That's funny, isn't it? How I could belong to someone."

    The Duke of Norfolk hesitated before he said, "You belong to the King, Your Majesty."

    Kitty rolled her eyes. "I know that," she said, "And you know what I mean."

    "Of course," said Uncle Norfolk.

    Kitty looked away, dark hair bound under a white cap. In such intimate settings, with her ladies and kin attending, she didn't wear the restrictive hoods necessary for courtly life. Though the brown curls were not bounding free, it made her look less queenly. More human.

    "The King wishes to travel to Burgundy to see how she is," she murmured. "He is probably going to muster up some excuse about a treaty, or a marriage between our children." She looked at her uncle. "I asked him if he could wait until I had given birth, so I could go as well."

    "If the King wants something, I'm certain he will get it," said the Duke of Norfolk. "But things such as the meeting of different rulers takes time. Months. It's possible that the Queen might be expecting again by the time a date is set."

    Kitty sighed, running a hand down her belly. "You're right," she said. "You're always right, uncle."
     
  • Index
    • King of Danes

    King of Danes

    Damn. It’ll be interesting to see if they’ll ever patch things up, or if they have just grown too far apart. Hopefully Bessie will be able to see some sense soon and accept that she no longer is above her old friend. She doesn’t deserve to be friendless despite her faults
     

    Dragonboy

    Well at least Nora has something to love and give her comfort in that cold unfeeling place.

    And God bless You Kitty, let's hope Bessie accepts your offer
     
    pandizzy

    pandizzy

    King of Danes said:
    Damn. It’ll be interesting to see if they’ll ever patch things up, or if they have just grown too far apart. Hopefully Bessie will be able to see some sense soon and accept that she no longer is above her old friend. She doesn’t deserve to be friendless despite her faults
    Click to expand...
    We'll see. Like Uncle Norfolk said, her pride has pride.
     
    Reader mode
    You must log in or register to reply here.
    Top
    Top