A/N: - Since it was never stated why Edmund Tudor, Duke of Richmond died at the age of 15 months in 1500, I am going to say that, in this story, he suffered from Quartan Fever and survived. 24th May 1521: Ludlow Castle, England: The Welsh Marshes: Prince Henry's Chambers
The door, to Prince Harry's chambers opened and his father, King Henry VIII, appeared in the doorway. Prince Harry had fallen ill and had been confined to his bed. King Henry looked terrified as he approached Harry and sat on the side of the bed. He placed an arm around Harry and pulled him towards his chest, holding him close.
"Majesty," one of the physician's protested. Dr Linacre raised a hand, to silence him "It might be just what the Prince needs to recover,"
Henry placed his son back onto the pillow. Pulling the quilt over Harry, his father tucked him in, stroking his cheek and placing a kiss on to his forehead. "Get well soon, Harry,"
"I love you, Papa," Harry smiled, and gave a small cough, before closing his eyes and drifting into a deep sleep. Henry got to his feet. "Linacre," he began, approaching the physician "Do whatever you have to, to make sure that Harry recovers. Do whatever you have too,"
Dr Linacre nodded, as King Henry passed him.
25th May 1521: Whitehall Palace, England: Dowager Queen Elizabeth's Chambers
"How is my nephew?" Edmund Tudor, Duke of Somerset sat in the chair as he asked his question. Elizabeth, Dowager Queen of England sighed "Not good, I'm afraid, Edmund. It is possible that we could lose him."
"What is he suffering from?" Edmund asked, folding one leg over the other. Elizabeth looked up, from her goblet, and locked eyes with her son. She sighed "He's suffering from the same thing that you did, Edmund. He's suffering from Quartan Fever,"
Edmund's goblet shook in his hand for a moment, before he steadied himself. However, his voice quivered as he spoke "I barely survived that. Do we know what the Prince's chances of survival are?"
Elizabeth shook her head "We do not know his chances. The Physicians have not told us... You know how Henry is. He'll panic like mad..."
Edmund nodded, in agreement "Yes. I know how Henry is," He gave a small smile. "I remember what he was like as a child too,"
"Yes," Elizabeth replied "Well-built and stocky," Edmund smiled, nodding in agreement "Unlike me," he commented "I was always the slimmer of the two of us - Henry was always more chunky than I was - and, I was always the shorter of the two, I still am, I guess. I was also weaker than him when it came to falling ill. When he fell ill he recovered within a few days, while I took a week-and-a-half."
Elizabeth placed a hand on to Edmund's shoulder "You're just as good as Henry is, Edmund. The only difference between you is eight years of age, Edmund, nothing more,"
Edmund gave a small, goofy smile and got to his feet. "I'm going to visit Harry."
"No!" Elizabeth was on her feet in an instant "No! I don't want you to fall ill as well."
Edmund gave a nod, and bowed, before leaving his mother's chambers.
26th May 1521: Hever Castle, Kent, England
Elizabeth Howard glanced up, as Thomas spoke to her eldest daughter's husband, William Carey.
"No," William Carey protested, shaking his head "Mary has been the mistress of the King already! Use Anne!" William hooked an arm around Mary and held her close.
Thomas raised a hand, ready to slap William. He swung it, but felt someone grab his hand. "Thomas," Elizabeth began, lowering her husband's hand "William is right. Mary is married. She needs to provide heirs for the Carey family, not bastard children for the King, and that does not mean that you will use Anne, instead. Do you understand me, Thomas?"
Thomas did not reply, he merely looked to Anne and George. "George. Fetch your brother, Henry, would you?"
"Certainly, Father," George left the room, and, a few moments later, returned with a boy, almost sixteen years old. The boy's head barely came up to George's shoulder - despite the fact that he was only a year younger than George - and the boy was a little rotund. His doublet was fastened tightly around his waist "Henry," Thomas began "I think it is time that I took you to court. You will travel with George, Anne and me, tomorrow,"
"Yes, Father," he bowed, once, stifly at the waist, and left his father's presence. George followed. "Alright, Henry," he began, as they left the room "What's wrong? You're never normally this quiet,"
"I don't want to go to court," Henry protested "I want to stay at home, marry and raise a family!"
George placed a hand on to his younger brother's shoulder "Come to court, Henry. You might find the right woman. You're nearly sixteen. If you want to marry, you'll need to do it soon, especially is father begins to get impatient," Henry sighed and he and George embraced "Father will have to find a marriage for me," George began, ruffling his brother's hair for a moment "I am the eldest son. I cannot choose who I marry. You can,"
The two parted from the embrace and Henry smiled, cheekily "I know. I'm lucky!" George swatted Henry, gently, around the back of the head "Go on! Get out of here, cheeky!" Henry smiled, stcking his tongue out, before running off, laughing. George, after a few moments, ran after him and tackled him to the floor, tickling him. Henry laughed as George tickled him.
"George! Henry! Stop that!" The two stopped, as Thomas Boleyn appeared in the doorway, a letter in his hand "and come here. I have some news about Prince Henry," George and Henry returned to the other room, as Anne and Mary entered. "Prince Henry..." Thomas began, placing the letter onto the table "...has survived his illness..."
[To Be Continued]
The ending is a bit lame, I know, but, I just wanted to get straight to the point, and that seemed the best way to do it. Henry Boleyn was an actual person, except, in history, he was born in 1500, just after Mary, and just before Anne. However, for this story, I made him the youngest child. I did it so that George would have a closer confidante, after all, Anne is four years older than him, and Mary is five years older than him. Review please. Thank you.