The sound of a fuss downstairs woke little Prince Edward up almost immediately. He had been having a nightmare, of awful things he dared not try to describe in his state of awake, and was thankful to be awoken by the sounds of peoples voices below him, but what on God's earth was the commotion about?
Edward needn't ask more then that, as he stood up from his bed, he soon heard a knock on the door. His chamberlain, who had also heard the disruptions downstairs, looked to the prince and bowed, having barely noticed or heard him rise from his bed.
Edward yawned, cupping his mouth with his tiny, nine year old hand. "Will you get that, sir?" he asked the chamberlain, as he stood in the center of the room idly.
"Of course, your highness." The chamberlain quickly walked over to the door and opened it, though from Edward's position in the room, he could not see whom the very unexpected and rowdy guest was. It was usual, lately, for him to receive many guests at Windsor. He knew his father held him importantly in his heart, and wished to do nothing but protect him from the dangers of other people. He would have expected to see his father, standing at the door, but he could not remember a time in his short life when Henry had ever knocked. He need not; he was the King of England!
The chamberlain turned to look at the prince, inclining his head. "The Earl of Hertford would like to see you privately, your highness."
The thought of his uncle coming to see him had not even crossed Edward's mind. "Very well, let him in, please."
The chamberlain nodded, opening the door to the full extent and allowing the Earl of Hertford, Prince Edward's uncle, Edward Seymour, to pass by him and enter the room. The chamberlain, bowing to the prince, left the room, closing the door behind him.
Hertford looked at Edward with a blank expression, making him impossible to read. Little Prince Edward looked up at his uncle. "Why do you wake me so late in the night, uncle?" he asked, yawning again.
Hertford looked down at his nephew with a serious and somewhat grave expression. "His Majesty has passed away, your grace." There was barely an iota of hurt or sorrow in the man's voice.
He thought he had not heard him right. Edward put a hand to his own ear and leaned forward a bit. "What have you said uncle? I think I have heard you wrong, it cannot be what I thought I heard."
"His Majesty, the King, your father, Henry the eighth of England, Ireland and France, has passed away this morning of the 28th of January, 1547." Hertford repeated himself, this time in a bit more of a seemingly sarcastic tone. "Your father is dead, your grace."
Edward's hand that had been at his ear dropped to his side and he looked up at his uncle, looking quite lost. If his father, the King, was dead, that meant that he would be the King of England, he would ascend to the throne. His dismay at hearing of his father's death however was too upsetting for him to really be happy for his newly claimed title. "Thank you for the information, uncle. You can leave me now."
"You are to come to the Tower, for further protection until we can properly have you succeed your father. Nobody knows of his death yet, it has been kept under wraps until we are ready for your succession." Hertford explained; he was not letting Edward go back to bed, in other words.
"If no one knows, why would I need protection?" he asked.
Too smart for his own damn good. "When I say no one knows your grace, I mean that only the staff and physicians who tended on your father, a few member's of council are aware. We must be careful with whom we place our trust in these times. You know that. One of them may leak the information, in which case your life may be put into danger. We will leave for the Tower immediately, I have a litter waiting downstairs."
Edward looked down at his hands for a moment, which he held out in front of him. Though his father and him were not particularly close, he always knew his father had loved him, and wanted nothing more then for him to be the next King of England, but both of them had probably not expected it to happen so soon. He was overwhelmed with emotions, some he believed he had never felt before. He imagined however, that had he been not only barely alive when his mother had died, he probably would have felt the same way, or worse, judging by her supposedly kind disposition. For a moment, Edward began to feel very alone in the world, with both his parents gone. He was thankful that he still had his stepmother, and his stepsister in his life. "Let us leave for the tower then uncle." He said, finally giving in to Hertford's pull. He would have forced him to go had he refused once more, and he was not in the mood to be forced to do anything, nor was he in the position; he was the King of England now.