In all honesty, I haven't decided. The story I am basing it off covers until 1524 in great detail and then flips forward to 1532 as an epilogue. I have a couple of ideas for chapters past that that I never got around to writing, but I don't actually know any more than that. I am open to suggestions...
The Queen is Dead!: Katherine of Aragon dies in 1518
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
In all honesty, I haven't decided. The story I am basing it off covers until 1524 in great detail and then flips forward to 1532 as an epilogue. I have a couple of ideas for chapters past that that I never got around to writing, but I don't actually know any more than that. I am open to suggestions...
Throwing out ideas here.
1. Until the end of the Tudor dynasty
2. Until Henry VIII dies
I'd go to at least the end of what we would call the Elizabethan Era in RL.
If I did that, I'd probably break it into two, one for Henry's reign and one for his successor's.
Section LXIV - May 1521
A few weeks later, Marie was sewing quietly, her ladies around her, when something jolted in the depths of her stomach and a heavy gush of water spilled out from between her legs, soaking her red damask skirts so that they clung to her swollen figure, so sopping wet that they were almost black.
She stifled a gasp. Her mother heard it, looked up. A single glance told her all she needed to know.
Getting to her feet, she crossed the room and helped Marie up, lacing her hands in hers in pull against the weight of the child and the now soaked gown.
At the same time, she spoke over her shoulder to the other ladies in the room.
“Do not be alarmed, ladies, but I think one of you had better inform the King that he’ll be seeing the May in by celebrating the birth of a new Prince. I believe my daughter’s time has come.”
His knees were smarting from the flagstones pressing against them. That’s how long he’d been kneeling there.
His lips were moving so fast, his whispered words were little more than an indistinguishable blur as they ran into one another. That’s how fervently he was praying.
“Please, God, in Your Mercy, don’t take her away from me. She’s the light in my dark world, just as you are the light of life for all of mankind. I need my Queen and my children need their mother. Especially Maria. She’s still so young and innocent, yet she’s already gone through the pain of losing her mother once. In Your Goodness and Your Mercy, spare her the pain of losing another mother, I beg you. Grant me this one thing, Lord, grant me Marie’s life and a healthy Prince and I vow I shall be Your staunchest defender all the days of my life. No word of heresy or blasphemy shall ever cross my lips again, not shall I ever allow them at my Court. I shall be as loyal to you as Solomon and David ever were. I swear it by the Saviour, the Holy Virgin and all the Saints.”
A quiet footfall broke into Henry’s frantic litany of murmured prayer. A soft “Sire?” was all it took to make him cross himself and spring up, spinning, so that he came face to face with his page, Francis Weston.
“What news?” he cried, “Francis, what news?”
She stifled a gasp. Her mother heard it, looked up. A single glance told her all she needed to know.
Getting to her feet, she crossed the room and helped Marie up, lacing her hands in hers in pull against the weight of the child and the now soaked gown.
At the same time, she spoke over her shoulder to the other ladies in the room.
“Do not be alarmed, ladies, but I think one of you had better inform the King that he’ll be seeing the May in by celebrating the birth of a new Prince. I believe my daughter’s time has come.”
*** *** ***
The silver beads of his rosary were biting into his fingers, even though they’d been polished to perfect smoothness. That’s how tightly he was gripping the thing.
His knees were smarting from the flagstones pressing against them. That’s how long he’d been kneeling there.
His lips were moving so fast, his whispered words were little more than an indistinguishable blur as they ran into one another. That’s how fervently he was praying.
“Please, God, in Your Mercy, don’t take her away from me. She’s the light in my dark world, just as you are the light of life for all of mankind. I need my Queen and my children need their mother. Especially Maria. She’s still so young and innocent, yet she’s already gone through the pain of losing her mother once. In Your Goodness and Your Mercy, spare her the pain of losing another mother, I beg you. Grant me this one thing, Lord, grant me Marie’s life and a healthy Prince and I vow I shall be Your staunchest defender all the days of my life. No word of heresy or blasphemy shall ever cross my lips again, not shall I ever allow them at my Court. I shall be as loyal to you as Solomon and David ever were. I swear it by the Saviour, the Holy Virgin and all the Saints.”
A quiet footfall broke into Henry’s frantic litany of murmured prayer. A soft “Sire?” was all it took to make him cross himself and spring up, spinning, so that he came face to face with his page, Francis Weston.
“What news?” he cried, “Francis, what news?”
I know, I know. Sorry! It was the end of a chapter in the original fic... I will update tomorrow or Sunday, I promise!
Section LXV - May 1521
I feared you'd all mutiny if I didn't solve the cliffhanger in a timely fashion...
Marie felt as though she were being torn in two. She was weeping with pain even as she struggled to obey the midwife’s orders to “Push! Push, Your Majesty! Push as though your life depended upon it!” and, whenever the contractions abated, however briefly, she slumped back into her pillows, sobbing.
“I can’t do it, Mama, I can’t!” she wept, clinging to her mother’s hand as she bent over to wipe her brow.
“Yes, you can,” Elizabeth soothed. “I know it hurts, but you can do it. And trust me, it’s worth it. When you hold that boy in your arms, when you see the King’s face as you show him his son, it will all be worth it. I promise.”
“Of course you can do it,” the midwife said bracingly, “A healthy strong girl like you won’t have any more trouble than this. The first babe’s always the hardest. The next one will be as easy as pie.”
Elizabeth wanted to curse the woman when she saw how Marie blanched at the thought of the next one, but her next words changed all that.
“The head’s crowning, Madam! Some nice pants and a few more steady pushes and it will all be over, I promise!”
Spurred on by the thought of the pain ending, Marie did what she was told with new impetus and, minutes later, a healthy baby boy was greeting the world.
Marie slumped back into her pillows for what felt like the thousandth time. This time, however, she was weak with relief at the sound of her new-born son’s hearty cries.
“My word!” the midwife exclaimed, “We certainly have a healthy one on our hands here. Most babies cry, but this one’s roaring like a lion!”
“The Lion of England,” Marie whispered tiredly. Elizabeth stooped and kissed her forehead.
“Rest for a moment, darling. You’ve done so, so well. I’m so proud of you.”
“Henry – the King...”
“I’ll tell the King. Don’t worry about that. It’s all fine. It’s all going to be fine.”
“I want to hold my boy.”
“I know. And you will. He just needs to be cleaned and swaddled first, that’s all. Now lie back and rest for me. That’s it, good girl.”
As soon as Marie had done as she asked, Elizabeth slipped out of the room in search of the King, a beaming smile on her lips.
Henry was not more than half a dozen paces away from Marie’s outer rooms. He had rushed over as soon as Francis had told him the head was crowning and had been rewarded with the sound of a baby’s cry. As Marie’s mother came out, the look on her face told him all he needed to know.
“I have a son?”
“Congratulations, Sire. The healthiest Prince I’ve ever seen.”
“Truly?”
“He came out roaring like a lion. Indeed, the Queen christened him ‘The Lion of England’ before she’d even laid eyes on him, so strong were his lungs.”
At that, Henry couldn’t help but laugh out loud, throwing back his head so that his red-gold hair caught the May Day sunshine and shone like burnished copper.
“Then it appears my wife has the right of it. We shall call him Lionel,” he announced, “Lionel Tudor, Prince of Wales. Lionel for the three lions of England and for my illustrious ancestor, the Duke of Clarence. What say you, Lady Ormonde? As the child’s grandmother, how do you like that idea?”
“He could not have a more suitable name, Sire,” Elizabeth smiled.
He laughed again, spun her around and kissed her jubilantly. Then he glanced around him.
“Sound the bells!” he cried, “Sound the bells and let all of England know she has a Prince at last!”
Then he shot like an arrow into Marie’s rooms to meet his son.
Marie felt as though she were being torn in two. She was weeping with pain even as she struggled to obey the midwife’s orders to “Push! Push, Your Majesty! Push as though your life depended upon it!” and, whenever the contractions abated, however briefly, she slumped back into her pillows, sobbing.
“I can’t do it, Mama, I can’t!” she wept, clinging to her mother’s hand as she bent over to wipe her brow.
“Yes, you can,” Elizabeth soothed. “I know it hurts, but you can do it. And trust me, it’s worth it. When you hold that boy in your arms, when you see the King’s face as you show him his son, it will all be worth it. I promise.”
“Of course you can do it,” the midwife said bracingly, “A healthy strong girl like you won’t have any more trouble than this. The first babe’s always the hardest. The next one will be as easy as pie.”
Elizabeth wanted to curse the woman when she saw how Marie blanched at the thought of the next one, but her next words changed all that.
“The head’s crowning, Madam! Some nice pants and a few more steady pushes and it will all be over, I promise!”
Spurred on by the thought of the pain ending, Marie did what she was told with new impetus and, minutes later, a healthy baby boy was greeting the world.
Marie slumped back into her pillows for what felt like the thousandth time. This time, however, she was weak with relief at the sound of her new-born son’s hearty cries.
“My word!” the midwife exclaimed, “We certainly have a healthy one on our hands here. Most babies cry, but this one’s roaring like a lion!”
“The Lion of England,” Marie whispered tiredly. Elizabeth stooped and kissed her forehead.
“Rest for a moment, darling. You’ve done so, so well. I’m so proud of you.”
“Henry – the King...”
“I’ll tell the King. Don’t worry about that. It’s all fine. It’s all going to be fine.”
“I want to hold my boy.”
“I know. And you will. He just needs to be cleaned and swaddled first, that’s all. Now lie back and rest for me. That’s it, good girl.”
As soon as Marie had done as she asked, Elizabeth slipped out of the room in search of the King, a beaming smile on her lips.
*** *** ***
Henry was not more than half a dozen paces away from Marie’s outer rooms. He had rushed over as soon as Francis had told him the head was crowning and had been rewarded with the sound of a baby’s cry. As Marie’s mother came out, the look on her face told him all he needed to know.
“I have a son?”
“Congratulations, Sire. The healthiest Prince I’ve ever seen.”
“Truly?”
“He came out roaring like a lion. Indeed, the Queen christened him ‘The Lion of England’ before she’d even laid eyes on him, so strong were his lungs.”
At that, Henry couldn’t help but laugh out loud, throwing back his head so that his red-gold hair caught the May Day sunshine and shone like burnished copper.
“Then it appears my wife has the right of it. We shall call him Lionel,” he announced, “Lionel Tudor, Prince of Wales. Lionel for the three lions of England and for my illustrious ancestor, the Duke of Clarence. What say you, Lady Ormonde? As the child’s grandmother, how do you like that idea?”
“He could not have a more suitable name, Sire,” Elizabeth smiled.
He laughed again, spun her around and kissed her jubilantly. Then he glanced around him.
“Sound the bells!” he cried, “Sound the bells and let all of England know she has a Prince at last!”
Then he shot like an arrow into Marie’s rooms to meet his son.
Let’s hope it doesn’t end like KOA’s son. Edit: Lionel, never ever considered that. Good job on that.
I know. This boy has been planned to be Lionel since the very beginning. It has been hilarious seeing you all try to guess his name and having to keep my mouth shut
No, swaddling is good for babies, I'm told, as long as you do it properly. It keeps them calm because it emulates the feeling of being in the womb. And Marie has no intention of going anywhere, I promise.
I love the fact that none of you even came close to figuring it out! I love the name and Lionel Tudor just has such a ring to it, I think. Also, how Henry is it to impetuously name his son before he's even laid eyes on him?
By the grace of god, his majesty Lionel, first of his name, King of England, Ireland, and Duke of Normandy. Any more titles I’m missing?
Didn’t Tudor King’s claim France as well? Or am I misremembering?
Won’t he be King or Normandy given its been conquered?
Be nice to add Brittany in there. Perhaps Scotland (by marriage?) too.