If Our Love's Insanity...(AU)
Mary Tudor is given an ultimatum: either she is sent away alone or she stays in England and accepts her status as a bastard and her father's wish to divorce her mother. She chooses to be sent away. She chooses the pinnacle of the Catholic world: the Vatican which is controlled by the fearsome Borgia family. She is stern and afraid, disapproving of the Borgias but glad to be safe in Rome. No one will ever break her, she thinks...but Juan Borgia has other ideas. AU (basically, it's impossible that this could happen in real life for so many reasons)
Mary's POV
"My lady, I will show you to your rooms" the servant curtsied and I signalled for her to lead the way. The Vatican was as beautiful as I had been told. Decorated as if it were heaven itself. Rome stank of most things but the air was safer to me than England's ever was.
My party and I were lead through a maze of hallways and passageways, each one more magnificent than its predecessor. I wondered if my rooms would be the grandest rooms they could possibly offer me and I smiled to myself. I may not be a Princess in England for much longer but here, I was a Princess and more. My Father had agreed to pay for my stay here, and I supposed that when he cast off my Mother and was under no obligation to pay for me, he would make she and her family pay for my stay instead. Unless I was summoned back of course. But I told myself I would only go back if I was to stay a Princess and my Mother a Queen. Or else, on my Mother's orders. She had told me to ask my Father, the King, to send me to Rome. Here, I was safe. I had allies. Everyone knew and acknowledged who I was. Granddaughter of the Spanish Catholic monarchs. Isabella's own flesh and blood. Daughter of King Henry of England and Queen Catherine of Aragon. I was also safely tucked into the arms of the true faith. Here, I was very much out of harms way and I was not likely to be hurt or challenged. No one wished me ill. I had practiced my Italian daily before coming here but I was still not so good. I knew I would have to resort to French, Spanish or Latin if I got stuck.
We had reached the door of my room which was magnificent in itself. Golden patterns adorned it. I thought of a door similar to it back in England. In Richmond Palace. The servant girl opened it and my eyes were met by the most dazzling sight. The ceiling was painted, there was gold everywhere on everything. Carvings and patterns, and the deep smell of incense. My bed was magnificent. It was a deep green. I had always liked green. It suited me, I had been told, for it brought out my red hair and made me shine like my Mother and her Mother, too. I felt the sheets and they were soft to the touch. Everything was beautiful. Perfect. And yet, as safe and as lovely as this all ways, it was not England. It was too hot. Too refined, dare I say it. Even my Spanish blood could not help me ajust to the climate and the air. I needed to bathe. That would make me feel better.
The servant girl pointed out various things to me. A secret door that lead into a very small but very beautiful chapel. "We have all heard about your pius nature and His Holiness wished for you to be accomodated for." I had my own, albeit, small dining quarters and a door on the left side of the room lead to the rooms designated for my ladies and attendants. I was only allowed to bring twelve with me. I was told that anything more would be exceedingly extortionate for a bastard. There was also a bath room but I decided that, given the nature of the rest of my quarters, I decided that it was unlikely to be anything less than magnificent. Once I had been shown around and had decided I was quite pleased with my quarters, the servant girl curtsied and left the room, her delicately decorated hair bobbing as she went. The servants here, whilst still servants, were all decorated, almost as finely as the patterns on the doors. It was not like that in England.
My lady, Joan, was at my side as soon as the servant girl left. She was attentive and I liked that. It was obvious she cared. And I wanted so much to be cared about.
"Your highness (Joan was on my side and still saw me as a Princess), you must be tired from the journey. Shall I draw you a bath?"
"Ah, Joan, you read my mind."
She curtsied and softly said "Madam" and left to find clean, warm water to fill it. Joan was the most capable of my servants and although we were in a new place in an entirely new country and her Italian was limited to a few phrases I had taught my ladies during the journey, I knew she would be back in no time with the water, clean and warm.
I told my other ladies and my other attendants that they were welcome to go to their quarters and sort their things out. I would not need them for a few hours. I only asked two of my ladies, Isobel and Margaret, to stay with me. I would need their help when Joan returned with my bath water.
Sure enough, 10 minutes later, Joan appeared, with a large silver jug, bubbling steam. She also had a pail of cold water in her other hand so I would not burn.
Joan, you are brilliant. Thank you, dear"
"Madam" she tilted her head in my direction and went into the bathing room.
She had barely been in there 10 seconds when I heard her scream and another shout. A man's.
I ran there, with Isobel and Margaret behind me. A million scenarios ran through my head but there was one that was far more likely, to me, than the rest. An assassin. Sent from England. That was it. Get rid of my Mother and I and we are both out of sight and out of mind. No more problems. This was all a trick. My father was not paying the Pope to house me. He'd paid him to have me killed. I knew of this Borgia pope and I didn't put it past him or his family.
I need'nt have worried, however. Or rather, I should have but not in the way I thought I should be. There was a man there but he was climbing out of the bath, dripping wet with dark circles under his eyes. He was unnarmed as far as I could tell and he was so finely dressed that there was no question he was high born and not an assassin. He didn't look like he could kill anyone anyway. He wobbled and he groaned. I suspected he had been drinking and had fallen asleep in MY bath. Joan was in shock, tensed up against the wall. The cold water pail had rolled across the floor, empty. She still held the silver jug but the steam had more or less disappeared. The pieces of the scene were finally starting to fall into place and I managed to think coherently.
What in god's name is going on here? And you, sir, you are in my quarters. Who are you?!" I said the last part in Italian. I assumed he was Italian. It was not the best Italian I have ever spoken.
I managed to get a look at him now as he straightened up and looked at me. He was still wet and dripping and tired-looking but he had dark eyes that made me both uncomfortable and enthralled. They were calculating eyes. I could tell he was considering me. Trying to work out who I was. I too stared at him, trying to make him uncomfortable but when his brooding look moulded into an equally brooding but seemingly flattering smile, I could no longer hold my gaze. I felt myself blushing but I also felt angry. I am stubborn and I am proud. To me, a Princess didn't let untidy men hiding in their bathtubs out-stare them. And yet...
"He is handsome, I grant him that" I thought to myself, as I focused my gaze to the floor for a second before he spoke. He was speaking English. One could tell it was not his native language but he spoke better English than my attempt at Italian. I felt jealous.
"Princess Mary. Your father is paying my father through the nose for your upkeep." His voice was venomous. He had hesitated, knowingly, after he had said "Princess Mary." I knew he knew about troubles at home. And I finally realised who he might be.
"Indeed. I am grateful. Juan or Cesare?"
"Juan Borgia, madam. At your service" He bowed but nothing seemed sincere. He still had a smile wiped across his face. A smug smile. I felt angry.
"Juan Borgia." I repeated. My Mother had warned me against his attention. A notorious letch. Women were his vice.
"Mary, he is charming but his intentions are never honourable" she had warned.
"No chance of that, my lady Mother" I thought to myself "He can't fool me"
"I trust Madam's journey was safe and tolerable?" Still he smiled. As if he had a secret.
"It's 'Your Highness' to you, my lord" I heard Isobel spit out. My ladies were fiercly protective of me and were determined I was treated with proper respect. Not once had he referred to me in the proper way. I did mind being called "Madam" but his first words should have been "Your Highness."
"It's quite alright, Isobel. He knows who I am. He is just deliberately being cruel" I shot him a mean look.
He snorted with laughter.
"Mary Tudor. Yes, I know who you are. Princess Mary" He was deliberately trying to upset me so I ignored his attempts.
"My journey was tolerable, sir. And now, I am tired and wish to bathe. Would you be so kind as to leave us? I am sure I can pay my respects to His Holiness later"
He hesitated, went to bow and then changed his mind. His smile disappeared but his brooding, smug look was not gone.
"I will leave you...Your Highness. But let me remind you that this is a Borgia house. And I am a Borgia. You are here at my father's pleasure. You are paying for the privilege. Do not think to order me around under my own roof again"
My ladies gasped but they did not say anything. I dug my nails into the back of my hand to stop myself from saying what was on my mind. This was all deliberate. If I retaliated, he had won. So I simply said "I am grateful to His Holiness and the kindness which he has showed me in allowing me to be here. If my lord will forgive me, I am tired and this is all new. I will not prevail my orders upon you again. But I think it would satisfy us both if I was allowed to bathe alone and you were allowed to leave"
He looked a little dumfounded and a little disappointed. His escapades hadn't worked on me. No charm penetrated me. All he could do was tilted his head and I stepped aside to let him leave. But not before I had had the realisation that I could could show him my displeasure through the medium of Spanish. I was fluent. He was Spanish, born and bred. If I played him at his own game and got the last word in in his native language, he would know that I was a force to be recokned with.
"Juan Borgia. If you ever speak to me like that again, in front of my ladies, you will regret it. You will regret ever speaking to a Princess of England in that tone for the rest of your life; the granddaughter of Isabella? How dare you. Now leave me and prevail yourself upon some whorehouse" I said, softly and in perfect Spanish. I did not turn to face him but I heard him stop and I knew he had heard and understood me. Immediately after saying, I regretted it. The proud Princess inside of me had got the better of me. I had been doing so well.
"I'm in for it now" I thought to myself and I took in his silence with a knot forming in my stomach.
But he just laughed. My ladies were none the wiser. Still I did not turn to face him.
"Oh, I shall not. La princesa María Tudor"
And finally, he left, leaving me feeling like screaming and laughing all at once,
Juan's POV {The same evening}
"The Princess Mary arrived today or so I have been told. We have not visited her yet ourselves, myself. I expect she is tired. But no doubt we shall see her tomorrow" my father, the Pope, sliced open a pomegranate and helped himself to the seeds. His mention of her name had me reeling. She angered me earlier. Back chatting and treating me like a mere servant. As if a Princess was higher than a Pope's son. The Pope's favourite son. She was paying to be here and yet, she ordered me about. But still, she had been thrilling to behold. Fiesty and venoumous. And I wanted to tame her. By god, I did. Out of both attraction and hatred.
"Why is she here, father?" Lucrezia said softly from across the table in her sweet and innocent voice. Entirely put on for our father of course. She was very much as fiesty as Princess Mary and even more ruthless.
"Because her father doesn't want her anymore. He has paid us so he can cast her and her mother off. The English are far more honest than we. She's lucky he hasn't had her murdered yet" I interjected before my father could speak.
He looked at me crossly and I shrugged. As if I cared. It was the truth.
"What Juan is trying to say" Cesare said, trying to smooth over a possible argument, as always. My holier than thou brother. There was no love lost between us. "Is that the Princess' father wishes to take a new wife and annul his marriage her mother, Catherine of Aragon. It seems the marriage was never valid. Mary will become a bastard and will be a Princess no longer if that happens. The King needs a son. It is very necessary that this happens. She is dissastisfied however and has chosen to come here alone, paid for by her father, presumably to escape the humilation of being declared illegitimate."
"How awful! Poor Princess Mary. I had heard the English could be savage" said Lucrezia and she and Cesare smiled at each other. I sneered.
"True enough, brother. But a father who loved his daughter would never do that to her. So I was right"
"Stop, Juan" my Mother put her hand gently on my arm. I yanked it away. My family; how I loved them. How I hated them.
"King Henry will only be getting a annulment if I decide it is so. And if I decide against it, she will be no bastard. She will be the heir to the throne of England, unless Henry has a legitimate son. So, Juan, her fate is in my hands, not her father's"
"But you should grant an annulment, father. Besides, you have granted that for many kings and emperors before him"
"You are right, Cesare. But his evidence...well, it's flimsy. I'm not convinced. Of course, it has Biblical backing. But I'm still not entirely persuaded. King Henry will have to do better than that. And if I like the Princess Mary...whose to say I won't fight for her cause? She may convince me. And if she's pretty, well...we cannot deny a pretty girl anything"
"You are ruthless, father" Cesare sneered.
All I could do was sigh. They were all fools. This was all rather melodramatic.
"No danger of you being charmed by her, father" I said "She was not at all pretty. Ugly. Like her grandmother"
"Queen Isabella was called beautiful by many" Cesare raised his eyebrows in my direction and placed a grape in his mouth.
"Sycophantic shit if you ask me"
"Juan! Not in our presence" As if my father was scandalised. He was a Pope, yes, but not a very Christian one. They disliked my truth telling. I was too honest, I think. "Too crude" Lucrezia had once said, and Mother had agreed.
"Well, from what I saw of her from the window of my quarters...I thought she was very pretty. I would wager she is even more beautiful close up. Anyway, Juan, how do you know that she is ugly? You haven't even laid eyes on her" Lucrezia said and her words savoured strongly of words that were supposed to impress the table.
"I have. We spoke. I was in her quarters. She was not too happy but this is a Borgia house. She's not in England anymore"
"Why were you in her quarters, dearest brother?"
"Lucrezia, I would wager he passed out in there" Cesare smirked "What will all the drinking last night."
"It's a wonder you're not dead" my Mother added.
"So you argued, dearest brother?" Lucrezia continued.
"You could say that"
"Well, then, I declare, I cannot believe a word you say about her. Your judgement is clouded. I suppose she won the argument?"
"She most certainly did not!"
"She did. And that's why you dislike her. She is clever. Magnificent. I'd like to meet her sooner rather than later. Papa, why does she not dine with us?"
"I suppose she wishes to eat in her quarters. She has had a tiring journey. She's in a foreign country. It's all rather new for her. I'm not sure how helpful dining with us will be" My father was no gorging himself on a large pear.
"But you are the Pope, father. Make her dine with you. It's your right. She should bend her knee"
"Juan, even a Pope, even a Pope like me, is not going to try and intervene on the rightful privacy of a Princess"
"But she's not a Princess. She'll be a bastard soon."
"Juan" my Mother's hand was on my arm again "Enough"
"We are bastards, too, Juan" Lucrezia took a sip of wine and dabbed her face with a cloth.
"Bastards that are soon to be legitimate. Bastards that are the bastards of God's representative on Earth"
"But bastards all the same. It's no matter to me"
I did not like Lucrezia. She always had an answer to everything.
"Papa, I implore you" Lucrezia continued "Invite her down to dinner."
He considered for a moment.
"Fine. Send one of the servants to call for her. But she is well within her right to refuse us"
Mary's POV
There was a knock at the door. Margaret was combing my hair out and I was settling down for the night. I had refused to eat. My appetite was gone completely today. I put it down to the travel.
"Isobel, see who that is"
It was the servant girl who had showed us all to our quarters.
"Your Highness" she curtsied low "I been sent by His Holiness the Pope to request your presence at dinner"
"His Holiness asked for me?" I was shocked. Of course, he would know I was here but he was under no obligation to see me. I would pay my respects for him publicly and then we would both go about our business, he with my father's money, I with my dignity in tact.
"Yes, madam."
"Her Highness is not hungry. Go now" Isobel answered for me. I was touched by her loyalty to me but she forgot that the maid did not understand English.
"Hush, now, Isobel. I will go"
Waiting outside the dining quarters door was unsettling. I was told, by the servant who I had met there, that he would announce me. But he had been inside for five minutes, if not more. I studied the pattern on the door intently trying to take my mind of things. I had never met a Pope but I had been taught well in the art of being an adoring Princess who knew how to treat everyone of all stations. Yet, I was still nervous. Mainly because of the rumours I had heard of the Borgia family. Nasty rumours. I had managed to dress in a short period of time after accepting His Holiness' offer. I had chosen a bright green dress because I knew that the fashion here was much more colourful than that in England. My deep brown dress I had been wearing earlier, whilst very pretty and very expensive, would not suffice to meet the Borgia family. And even though this was the most colourful and beautiful and expensive, it was still painfully English. I felt inferior in every way and I was angry with myself for it, for I had never seen myself as nothing until now.
I was also worried about seeing Juan Borgia again. I was afraid he had told his family what I had said earlier.
The door opened suddenly. And I was not met by the servant I had seen a few minutes ago. But a beautiful pale skinned fair haired girl, with blue eyes, hair that was even more decorated than my room and a dress that put mine to shame. Lucrezia Borgia.
"Princess Mary. Your Highness" she smiled so sweetly and curtsied. I too curtsied.
"My lady Lucrezia"
"Come and join us. You must be hungry"
"Yes" I lied.
When she stepped aside and ushered me in, I was taken slightly aback by the dining room. It was far grander than my exceedinly grand quarters. The large table was occupied by four faces, three of which were smiling kindly at me, one of which was not (Guess who? Juan.)
The Pope was a wizened looking old man with a rotund belly and very thin arms. His cassock was of the purest white with gold brocade. I curtsied very low, making sure I tilted my head in his direction before I went down. I had learnt this from my Mother. The ultimate show of respect.
"Your Holiness, I am in awe" I said.
"You should be" It was Juan, muttering, but even though I couldn't see his face, I could hear that he had a smug smirk on his face.
"Juan, we would have you stop" the Pope said in his general direction, firmly. "Princess Mary, your Highness, you are most welcome at our table. Take a seat"
As I went to my seat (a seat directly opposite Juan. As if I needed to see his face. My appetite was already almost non-existent), the Pope began again, introducing me to everybody around the table "My daughter, Lucrezia, you have just met. That's my eldest son, Cesare (he pointed at exceedibly good looking man sitting at the other end of the table. He flashed a smile. He was dark and brooding like Juan but with much kinder features). That's Juan, who we hear you have met already. And this is their mother, Vanozza. My youngest son, Gioffre, is in bed. He is quite young."
"Usually Giulia Farnese dines with us too" Lucrezia giggled.
"Giulia Farnese?" A name that was familiar to me.
"Papa's mistress. Everyone knows it here" she giggled even more.
"Lucrezia" Her father shot her a look and she stopped at once. Although I respected him as a Pope, I'm not sure he made me entirely comfortable.
"Whatever Juan said to you earlier, I advise you to ignore it"
"Oh, well, Your Holiness..."
"My father is right" Cesare interjected "He's only miserable because he has to marry soon. Someone from the House of Trastámara"
"Oh...my house"
"Not your house" Juan's words were filled with venom "Your mother's house but not yours."
"Oh, don't be such a bore, Juan" Lucrezia threw a grape at his head.
"I'm not being a bore. I am in awe of the Princess" and his smug smile from earlier returned.
The conversation then steered itself away from me and I did not listen. I stared at the food. It all looked delicious but most of it was fruit. It was strange to me, to have fruit for your main meal. In England, it was usually a meal of all sorts of meat. I did miss England...
I was so tired that my eyes began to close. The epitome of bad manners, I know, but I could hardly help it. It would've been ruder if I had got up and left. The company would think I was tired of them.
I was awoken from my almost-slumber by Juan's venomous voice.
"The Princess does not seem to be so grateful for our company"
All eyes were now on me. I was wide awake now, blushing with embarassment. If I could have strangled Juan there and then, I would have. I did not understand why he was so mean. Perhaps all the drinking and the whorehouses had worn him down.
Luckily, the Pope was more forgiving.
"Ah! My dear! You must be exhausted. How rude of us to prevail ourselves upon you. You must make your way to bed now."
"I think Juan should escort her" Cesare said quietly "To apologise for his rudeness"
"I concur" his Holiness and Lucrezia said in unison.
"I do not agree" Of course Juan wouldn't agree. Urgh. "Her father isn't paying for my attentions, is he?"
"JUAN. JUST GO." The Pope whispered loudly and with the same venoumous streak that Juan had perfected. That's where he got it from.
He did decide to lead me back to my room, needless to say. I'm sure he was as brave as lion but his father even frightened me. He led the way. I trailed behind slowly, watching him intently. I was on high alert and had been all day. I was terrified this was all a trap and I was going to be killed at any second. The silence between us was excrutiating so I plucked up the courage to say something and start a conversation.
Me: "I am grateful, my lord. I am grateful for you and your family's hospitality. I'm especially grateful to his Holiness. Please don't think I'm not"
Juan: "I don't care if you're grateful or not. All I care about is your father's money"
Me: "Let me ask you this, Juan. Why are your family so kind to me and yet, you are not?"
Juan: "I don't like you. I'm a much better judge of character"
Me:"But we hardly know each other. I've done nothing."
Juan: "What about what you said to me earlier? That sounded like a threat."
Me: "It was a threat. But you were rude to me. And I daresay your family could do far worse to me than I to them"
Juan: "Ah, yes, here we go...tell me more about the evil Borgia bastards"
Me: "I've seen nothing to prove thus. Except for your behaviour. You're rude. You're arrogant. You are deeply unkind to me. I can see that you keep a dagger in your trousers. See, there's the hilt! What for? You are disrespectful."
Juan: "Oh, I bow down to your greatness, Isabella's granddaughter. Daughter of a King. Is that what you want me to say? Is that respectful?"
Me: "A bit more, yes. At least you acknowledge who I am. I acknowledge who you are"
Juan: "Mary..Your Highness (he gives a quick insincere bow)..It would be wise for you to realise that I don't care who you are. I don't care. It's sychophantic shit"
Me: "Well, you should care. I'm Spanish like you. I'm the blood of YOUR royalty"
Juan: "No, you're not. You're English. An insignificant exiled English princess. And you think I bend my knee to anyone? I'm the son of the Pope of Rome"
Me: "Bastard son"
Juan: "Well, when your father gets his annulment, you'll be a bastard too. My father intends it!"
Me: "How dare you!"
Juan: "How dare I? How dare YOU"
We had been whispering loudly as we walked along a long, winding corridor but now, we had both stop and with every word, he got louder and closer to me. His last words left me speechless, speechless enough to realise how close he was to me. I could feel his breath on my face. It was a sweet, warm breath. He didn't say anything either. I think he too had realised how close we were.
And part of me wanted to kiss him. And part of me wanted to slap him (another part of me wanted to bite him but I suppressed that part straight away)
Juan's POV
That bitch had been arguing with me for the entire walk back to her chambers. I was witty enough but so was she. I was enjoying the argument...until she called me a bastard son.
We had stopped in the hallway now, abruptly. I was facing her and she was facing me. Her blue eyes fixed on my dark ones. But the harshness of her face and her furrowed brows were slowly disappearing. Her breathing became slower and longer. I was listening to her...and then I realised how close we now were. Our noses were almost touching. I could feel her sweet breath on my face.
And part of me wanted to kiss her. Or fuck her right there in the hallway. Or slap her. Either one.
I leant in a little closer but I completely misjudged the situation and before I knew it, her hand was swiping at my face.
"Leave me! How dare you! This is not a whorehouse! I don't know what your intentions are but I declare, I won't let you charm me. I've tried to be your friend but I dislike you! If we were in England, you'd never be allowed to talk to me or treat me thus! Go back to your family, I know my way from here!"
And then she was gone. She had disappeared in the shadows of the hallway, although the candlelight illuminated her silhouette.
She was blushing when she shouted at me. And that's when I knew she wanted me.
I had to laugh to myself. I could hardly help it.
Mary's POV
He was insufferable and I felt tears prick my eyes as I skulked off. Hot tears. And yet, I had wanted to kiss him, I think...but I could hardly let him. He should not have been so bold! He needs to respect me first. He was only playing with me.
I knew this because as I neared the door of my chamber, I heard his deep laughter and I made sure I slammed the door.