The Queen is Dead!: Katherine of Aragon dies in 1518
- Thread starter FalconHonour
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Oh, Henry...
On the other hand, Marie deserves a gold star.
She does, doesn't she? As I said to someone upthread, she can't handle him as well as KOA could, but she occasionally manages astonishing flashes of insight...
Section XXXI - June 1520
Lady Salisbury listened to the happy giggles coming from Princess Mary’s nursery and smiled to herself. Mistress Boleyn had been good for His Majesty after all. Unlike his previous mistresses, Mistress Boleyn had taken an interest in more than just what the King could do for her and her own. She’d encouraged him to face his fears and his grief by visiting the Princess with her and, while the first visits had been difficult, every single time the King came – though he still didn’t come alone, Lady Salisbury noted – his relationship with his little daughter improved visibly.
And that, in turn, had been good for Her Highness. True, there had been tears and tantrums both before and after the first few visits, plus the fact that she had injured His Majesty’s pride by running into Mistress Marie’s arms yet treating him with the same diffidence she did all other strangers because she hadn’t recognised him, but those were just teething problems. Two, three months down the line, they were all much happier together. As was shown by the fact that the Princess no longer refused visitors, would now eat a full meal without making more than minimum amount of fuss and consented to at least being dressed and changed as many times as was necessary to keep her looking like a Princess. She’d reverted to the fairly easy child that Lady Salisbury remembered from her first weeks as the Royal governess, when Lady Bryan had been replaced so that she might take over the charge of the newest Prince or Princess.
Taking up an armful of linens that needing mending, Lady Salisbury glanced into the play room to see Marie kneeling in the centre of the room, counting aloud.
Ah. Hide and seek. Her Highness’s favourite game. The one she forced all the attendants to play…especially when she didn’t want to do something she was supposed to.
As if she knew Lady Salisbury was watching her, Marie turned her head and the two of them shared a smile before the elder woman turned away, leaving the three of them in peace.
Marie, meanwhile, twisted back around, shutting her eyes and returning to her part in the game. She finished counting and got to her feet.
“Here I come, ready or not,” she warned softly, before hunting through the room for her two playmates.
She found the King easily enough – his height and breadth made it difficult for him to hide satisfactorily, at least in a room cut down to the size of his four year old daughter – but Mary remained elusive.
“Can’t find her?” Henry asked, after a while of watching her search fruitlessly.
“No. I don’t know where the little vixen has got to,” Marie admitted, turning to face him as he came up behind her and encircled her waist with one arm. He cupped her cheek in one hand and seemed on the point of saying something, when Mary suddenly exploded out of Lady Salisbury’s empty mending chest, “Here I am, Mama!”
Marie had been a second away from sweeping the Princess up into her embrace, but she checked at her words.
“Your Highness…” she began, but King Henry cut her off, “Did I hear you call Mistress Boleyn Mama, Mary? Would you like her to be your Mama?”
“Oh, yes, Papa!” Mary cried, burrowing against Marie’s skirts, “She’s everything a Mama ought to be!”
“I agree, Mary, I agree,” the King chuckled, ruffling his little daughter’s hair, then dropping to one knee beside her, holding out an emerald ring to Marie. A ring he appeared to have conjured out of nowhere.
“So, Mistress Boleyn, will you do me the honour? Of becoming, not only my wife, but Mary’s mother and my Queen?”
Marie stared down at him, speechless. She felt as though she was in a dream. When she’d refused to sleep with the King the first time he’d asked he, she’d never dreamed it would come to this; didn’t ever dare to believe – to even hope – that one day, she’d see the King of England down on his knees to her, begging her to become his wife. Yet it had. She was.
Mary’s little hands tugging on her skirts brought her out of her trance.
“Oh, please say yes, Marie, please!”
Marie couldn’t answer her; couldn’t answer them. She opened her mouth to speak and, all of a sudden, tears welled up. Choking them back, she tore herself away from Mary’s clingy hands, raced, half-blind for the door, fumbled it open and fled. Fled to the peace of the Eltham gardens.
And that, in turn, had been good for Her Highness. True, there had been tears and tantrums both before and after the first few visits, plus the fact that she had injured His Majesty’s pride by running into Mistress Marie’s arms yet treating him with the same diffidence she did all other strangers because she hadn’t recognised him, but those were just teething problems. Two, three months down the line, they were all much happier together. As was shown by the fact that the Princess no longer refused visitors, would now eat a full meal without making more than minimum amount of fuss and consented to at least being dressed and changed as many times as was necessary to keep her looking like a Princess. She’d reverted to the fairly easy child that Lady Salisbury remembered from her first weeks as the Royal governess, when Lady Bryan had been replaced so that she might take over the charge of the newest Prince or Princess.
Taking up an armful of linens that needing mending, Lady Salisbury glanced into the play room to see Marie kneeling in the centre of the room, counting aloud.
Ah. Hide and seek. Her Highness’s favourite game. The one she forced all the attendants to play…especially when she didn’t want to do something she was supposed to.
As if she knew Lady Salisbury was watching her, Marie turned her head and the two of them shared a smile before the elder woman turned away, leaving the three of them in peace.
Marie, meanwhile, twisted back around, shutting her eyes and returning to her part in the game. She finished counting and got to her feet.
“Here I come, ready or not,” she warned softly, before hunting through the room for her two playmates.
She found the King easily enough – his height and breadth made it difficult for him to hide satisfactorily, at least in a room cut down to the size of his four year old daughter – but Mary remained elusive.
“Can’t find her?” Henry asked, after a while of watching her search fruitlessly.
“No. I don’t know where the little vixen has got to,” Marie admitted, turning to face him as he came up behind her and encircled her waist with one arm. He cupped her cheek in one hand and seemed on the point of saying something, when Mary suddenly exploded out of Lady Salisbury’s empty mending chest, “Here I am, Mama!”
Marie had been a second away from sweeping the Princess up into her embrace, but she checked at her words.
“Your Highness…” she began, but King Henry cut her off, “Did I hear you call Mistress Boleyn Mama, Mary? Would you like her to be your Mama?”
“Oh, yes, Papa!” Mary cried, burrowing against Marie’s skirts, “She’s everything a Mama ought to be!”
“I agree, Mary, I agree,” the King chuckled, ruffling his little daughter’s hair, then dropping to one knee beside her, holding out an emerald ring to Marie. A ring he appeared to have conjured out of nowhere.
“So, Mistress Boleyn, will you do me the honour? Of becoming, not only my wife, but Mary’s mother and my Queen?”
Marie stared down at him, speechless. She felt as though she was in a dream. When she’d refused to sleep with the King the first time he’d asked he, she’d never dreamed it would come to this; didn’t ever dare to believe – to even hope – that one day, she’d see the King of England down on his knees to her, begging her to become his wife. Yet it had. She was.
Mary’s little hands tugging on her skirts brought her out of her trance.
“Oh, please say yes, Marie, please!”
Marie couldn’t answer her; couldn’t answer them. She opened her mouth to speak and, all of a sudden, tears welled up. Choking them back, she tore herself away from Mary’s clingy hands, raced, half-blind for the door, fumbled it open and fled. Fled to the peace of the Eltham gardens.
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Well... That escalated quickly. It seems neither Mary can catch a break.. On the other hand, little Mary is adorable.
Well, three months is long enough for Henry, I think, particularly when he's a widower and therefore doesn't have to free himself from his wife TTL... Think how quickly Anne Boleyn's fall came in the end... And I couldn't resist the idea of little Mary being on the side of a Boleyn marriage ITTL, when she was so against Anne IOTL...
This is true, but Wolsey will not be pleased if Marie accepts, to say the least!
That is assuming Marie says no. She hasn't said anything at all yet...
As long she is not married with him, her neck is safe.
I mean is not he would chop heads of his mistresses left and right just because they pissed him... He won't?
In this state of mind I can't tell what Henry is capable off. He were always able to turn the switch for friendship and destruction rather fast.
Problem is, she can't realistically say no. Can she? Not without incurring Henry's displeasure, and we all know what that's like...
But she can at least feel like she still has a semblance of control over the whole thing, at least for now!