A/N I don't own Hetalia nor do I make any profit from it
Chapter 1 - The Birth of my English Rose
England's POV
I remember the day she was born. 7th September 1533… Anne Boleyn, Henry's second wife, had given birth to a beautiful baby girl. Henry was not pleased though and at the time, I was somewhat disappointed myself. Frustratingly, he wanted a son and that had caused his divorce with the Spanish princess, Catherine of Aragon. This caused sour relations with Spain and much of Roman Catholic Europe. It felt like we had gone to all this trouble for nothing. I remember Henry's words when he left the exhausted queen, "If you can bare a healthy daughter, you can bare a healthy son."
Anne had named her baby daughter Elizabeth after both of her grandmothers, Lady Elizabeth Boleyn, who was from the powerful Howard family, and Elizabeth of York. She had her father's coppery red hair and her mother's dark and alluring eyes. I remember lingering in Anne's chamber, watching her cradle the little princess in her arms with sad eyes.
"Are you disappointed too, my dear England," Anne asked, not taking her eyes off her daughter.
"Disappointed isn't a word that comes to mind," I replied, "There is no use crying over split milk."
Anne nodded silently, "I promised both you and Henry a son… I have failed in my duty."
I watched her sadly. Much turmoil would befall this woman. Miscarriage after miscarriage, Anne lost her children. The last child to have miscarried was said to be a son. My heart went out to my dear queen as Henry began to hate her for this. In his eyes, Anne had caused these miscarriages. Eventually, the morning of 19th May 1536, Anne was sent to the scaffold. I had visited her just before her execution. Surprisingly, she was rather calm in the face of death. She placed her hands to her neck, "I heard say the executioner was very good and I have a little neck," she said with a giggle. The executioner was a French swordsman. I bet France was pleased with himself… the little wanker, "Look after my dear daughter, England," Anne said as she walked towards the door, allowing herself to be led to her death.
I followed Anne to the scaffold and watched as she stood before her former subjects, "Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire that you pray for me. O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul."
My heart ached as she said her final speech. Not once did she criticize Henry. She was a noble woman indeed. As Anne knelt before the executioner, I noticed that the executioner seemed troubled. Anne, was waiting to die turned her head to look up at her executioner. However, he shouted to his assistant, "Where's my sword?" Anne turned away quickly before her head was sliced from her shoulders. A canon went off as her head fell to the ground, signifying her death.
A drop of blood had splashed onto my face and tears had streamed down my cheeks. My thoughts turned to Princess Elizabeth. Her mother was now dead and I heard that Henry had begun to court a new lady by the name of Jane Seymour. I found myself hating Henry for that. Jane Seymour paled in comparison to Queen Anne. She was too sweet, meek and mild. But that didn't stop her from baring a son, my future king.
I visited the young princess. She was admittedly beautiful in her youth. Her shoulder length red hair was graced by gentle waves and her dark eyes shone with childlike curiosity.
"Iggy," Elizabeth shouted in her childlike voice. As she ran towards me, her arms out in front of her, I knelt before her and smiled sadly.
"Hello, my little Lizzy," I said kindly, "Have you been good for Lady Bryant*?"
"I have," she said with a quick nod. My heart ached for her. How was I ever going to tell her about her mother? She was to be declared a bastard like her half sister Mary and her title of princess was to be taken away from her. She was to be known as "Lady Elizabeth". Prince Edward, son of now dead Jane Seymour, was now the undisputed heir to the throne.
Elizabeth had to endure many more year of turmoil and three more stepmothers, Anne of Cleves who was a German princess; Katherine Howard, a relative of Elizabeth's; and Catherine Parr, a learned woman who treated Elizabeth and her half siblings with kindness and respect.
This would be the last time she would feel this kind of stability and warmth, especially when her siblings took the throne. I watched from a distance, for that was all I could do. I heartily prayed that one day, my sweet Lady Elizabeth would take the throne one day.
A/N Hello! This is my first Hetalia fanfiction. The idea came to me whilst I was watching the movies "Elizabeth" and the sequel "Elizabeth: The Golden Age". I admired how devoted she was to her country and that she was essentially married to her country too. I was also watching Hetalia Axis Powers and there's a clip of England fighting the Spanish Armada (the bit where France goes around slapping defeated countries i.e. Spain across the head and "profiting from the sidelines")
So this is going to be a multi drabble chapter story and I hope you enjoy it.
P.S. Lady Bryant* was Elizabeth's first "Lady Mistress", who looked after her during the first couple of her life.