A/N: Sorry about the long wait. I haven't been very good at updating lately, but I have two chapters written now. Please review!

Part Three - The King's Light
Chapter Twelve
Joyful Times and Predicaments

2 July 1572

"The Princess Eleanor."

Edward smiled as his daughter made her way up to him, relying heavily on her governess' hand.

She was only a year old and she was already very beautiful. Jane and Mary were very pretty, but Eleanor, even in her young age, could surpass even the most beautiful princesses in Europe. She had his red hair and Mary Brydges' sapphire blue eyes.

She bobbed a small, clumsy curtsy to him. Edward chuckled and held his arms out to her. She smiled widely and ran towards him. The court 'awed'.

He pulled Eleanor onto his lap. "Do you like court, Eleanor?" he asked.

"Mhm," she replied.

He laughed. "This is your new mother," he gestured to Rose.

"Hello, Eleanor," she cooed.

Rose would make a great mother, Edward thought. She was gentle and loving. Their son would grow up to be strong but kind with a good heart. And the best kings had the greatest hearts, he realised.

"Hello," Eleanor replied.

Rose giggled. Their joyous family moment was interrupted by the herald.

"The Princesses Mary and Jane."

The court became silence. Edward's expression dropped and he scowled at where his daughters would enter the room from.

Jane and Mary had changed from the last time he saw them. Jane had become even prettier. She had blue eyes and brown hair, while Mary had brown eyes and brown hair. They both had Isabel's slender and graceful figure. Mary was a copy of a younger Isabel.

The curtsied to him once they approached him. "Your majesty," they both said.

"Jane, Mary," he said, "you've both grown. Rise."

They rose from their low curtsies. "You've insulted me," Edward added. "And Queen Rose. You rejected her invitation to court. Such defiance is not to be conveyed by a princess. Especially not a princess in your positions!" he yelled the last part and clenched his fist. "Why do you suddenly believe that you have the right to be rude and insolent to a king and his wife? Have you two turned to savages?"

Mary, his younger daughter, was beginning to shake. He felt no pity. What he did feel sad for, however, was that his younger daughter looked frightened as she sat on his lap.

"Your majesty," Jane spoke up, "Please do not be so harsh on Mary. It was I who sent the letter. Mary wished and pleaded to go to court. I rejected your offer because of my stubborness."

Edward stared at Jane. She was her mother's daughter. Her stubborn, brave mother. Mary was still shaking uncontrollably. Now he felt pity for her. He slumped back into his chair and sighed.

"You will leave in two weeks, Jane," Edward told her. Jane's eyes widened. "You are to marry Princess Henry of France." Jane looked ready to protest, her mouth was wide open, but her previously squared shoulders slunk and she nodded. "You will stay here, Mary. I have no plans for you yet." He looked sideways towards Rose. She appeared to be frightened. "Whether or not you deserve my forgiveness depends on whether the Queen is ready to forgive you for your unacceptable rudeness."

Rose looked uncertain, but nodded. "I am, your majesty."

He nodded. "For now, I will tell you to go to your rooms. Your aunt will show you." Elizabeth curtsied to Edward, along with the two girls, and guided them out of the room.

#12#

5 July 1572

"From what I've heard, he's meant to be very handsome."

Jane snorted. "But he's French," she complained. "And I'll have to live in France with loads of French people. Besides, I don't know him. What if he's cruel?"

Mary shrugged. "What if he's not."

"Then he's probably snotty, conceited and selfish like most French men."

"Jane," Mary began, "how many French men do you know?"

#12#

8 July 1572

"Her majesty is very sick, my lord," one of Queen Isabel's maids whispered to Barnaby. "She's been coughing blood and she can't eat anything without vomiting it back up."

"Will she get better?" Barnaby asked, concerned.

"The King is refusing to send help to her majesty until she gives in to his commands," their was a trace of a smile on the maid's face. "But she is ever so stubborn. She won't hear of it, my lord."

"She's right to," he whispered.

"Indeed."

The maid was in her late teenage years or early twenties, no older. She had red hair, covered in a hood, pale skin and bright blue eyes. She had a cheeky way about her.

"May I see her?"

The maid nodded. He entered the Queen's rooms. He was taken aback at the state she was in. She was paler than usual and her usually lovely hair was greasy and dull. Her eyes were closed. She appeared to be sleeping.

He took a seat beside her. His mind debated whether or not defying the King was a good idea. She was dying, but even on her death bed, Isabel of Austria had more back bone than even the greatest soldiers. Even him, but he wasn't really a soldier.

The Queen looked as if she had aged a dozen years in a month. There were bags under eyes and her lips were puffy and swolen. She was hardly recognisable.

"My lord, if her highness stirs or wakes, it would be most kind of you to inform me," the maid said.

He nodded, still staring at the once beautiful Queen. He was shocked, to say the least. He hoped that she'd live through her illness. If she was to die, Edward would feel as if he had more freedom and who knows what he'd do with his young wife. The poor creature, forced to be the Queen by her family and too naive to do anything to stop it. He had never like Lord Colby, the man was always stuck up, even when he was a mere baron.

The Queen shook in her sleep. He was at the end of his seat, ready to bounce up as soon as she stirred.

And she did. Well, she didn't stir, she just talked. It was inaudible, but it was clear that she was upset.

"Edward," he thought he heard her say.

She kept on repeating herself. "Edward, Edward, Edward." Her face was twisted in pain and hurt, just like it had been the day she heard the verdict. That her own husband, the man she had once loved, was to shut her in a tower. The Queen had always had sense. She was a realist, like himself. Rose Colby was not a lady of sense, nor was Mary Brydges or her whore of a sister, Catherine. Their lack of sense was what ruined then, and Rose's lack of sense would probably ruin her.

"How c-could y-you?" the Queen stammered.

She let out a loud cry. She was shaking and stirring violently. He tried to keep her in the bed, but she struggled underneath him. "Your majesty, please, just relax," he pleaded. "Someone, help!"

The maid rushed in. Her face went white upon seeing the Queen. "She's never been like this before, my lord," she said. "Perhaps a wet towel might calm her."

She scurried around the room, looking for a towel. She then wet it in a bucket full of water. She pressed it onto the Queen's head, which calmed her quite a bit.

Her eyes were wide open. She had bags under her eyes. "Barnaby?" she said hoarsely.

"Your majesty," he replied, smiling.

"Why am I here?" she asked. "Am I not the Queen of England? Shouldn't I be with my husband?"

"No, your majesty," Barnaby said, hating to have to tell her of her husband's betrayal. "King Edward annulled his marriage to you on the ground's that you are a Catholic."

Isabel began to laugh hysterically. Barnaby was taken aback by the Queen's madness.

"You jest, Barnaby," she stated, a smile gracing her thin lips. "Now, why am I really here? In the tower?"

"I do not jest, your majesty. Though I wish I was jesting," Barnaby admitted. The Queen's smile faltered. "The King is not the same man you married. He put you in the tower because you refused to admit that you were not the Queen of England."

"No," she whispered, "it cannot be. His majesty loves me!"

"Please, your majesty," Barnaby pleaded. "You have to believe me. You must remember something of the past few years! Mary Brydges, you have to remember her!"

Something sparked in her eyes on the mention of Mary Brydges. Her lips tightened and her hands clenched together, but soon after she broke down. Her hands loosened and her lips were still clenched together, in a useless attempt to stop herself crying.

"Why did you have to remind me, Barnaby?" she whimpered.

He looked at her with pity. "Because you cannot afford to forget."

The Queen looked child-like as she stared up at him. She was usually so strong and powerful, almost frighteningly, but now, her eyes begged for relief and her lower-lip quivered. The maid, who had not spoken through the whole ordeal, took a seat on the stool beside the bed.

She turned away from him, facing the other maid. Her body shook.

"I ought to be going," he said. "I will be back soon, my queen."

He bowed, even though she could not see him, and scurried away.

#12#

12 July 1572

"I've heard you play the flute," Rose said, trying to start a conversation with the stubborn Princess Jane.

"I do, your majesty," she replied, spitting out the words 'your majesty'.

Rose flinched. "Your father couldn't come to dinner tonight," she said. "He's busy planning the wedding. Barnaby Fitzpatrick is supposed to be bringing you to France. Your father intends to ask him to"

Jane didn't even look up. Her eyes widened, though, so Rose knew that she heard. She felt a childish satifation that she had gotten one on the 'Frozen Princess', as they called her at court. She was an ungrateful, spoiled little girl. While her sister, Princess Mary was kind and full of gratitude that Rose sought to reconcile the girls with their father.

"He's a nice man, isn't he Jane?" Mary attemped.

She finally looked up. "Yes, he is. Our Lord Father holds him most dear."

Rose noticed how well rehearsed Jane's words were. There was a certain falsity to them that irked Rose to no end. She wished the girl would just slip up so she could have a proper win.

"I suppose you'll enjoy France," Rose said. "Of course, you won't be the 'Queen' you've always wanted to be."

"I've never wanted to be Queen," she snapped, "your majesty," she added in an attempt to sound more gracious.

"Oh no?" Rose said, smirking. "So it was your mother, the Infanta Isabel, that had it all planned out for you? How disappointed she must be, locked in the tower. I suppose someone has told her that her sweet daughter is to marry a French prince?"

"Probably," Jane replied calmly, though she looked very angry. "Though she probably wouldn't mind. My mother believes it to be a sin to use your children as pawns. I suppose that's the difference between my mother and your father. Lord Colby shamelessy uses his children to further his influence and grant him titles. My mother wouldn't be caught dead doing such things."

Rose glared at her. "I have been kind enough to persuade your father to bring you here, so that we may be a happy family-"

"And by doing so you set up the perfect opportunity for my father to ship me off to France!"

"So that is why you dislike me so!" Rose realised. "You think I simply invited you here on your father's orders! I was the one who suggested that you be brought to court! He had not even mentioned marrying you off!"

Jane looked ashamed. Rightfully so, Rose thought. Jane did not speak for the remainder of dinner. Instead, Rose chatted to the younger of Queen Isabel's children, Mary.

Rose couldn't wait to get rid of the Spanish Queen's elder child.

#12#

13 July 1572

Barnaby stood in front of Edward, waiting for him to acknowledge him. Edward had often scolded Barnaby on his lack of respect for his king. He wasn't "Ned" anymore. He was 'Your Majesty' or 'King Edward'. Edward made it very known that he was no longer a boy.

"Barnaby," he finally said, "I have a job for you."

"Your Majesty?" he enquired.

"I wish for you to accompany my daughter to France," he said. "You will stay there, in Paris, for a few days and you will give Jane away to her husband in my steed. Do you accept?"

He'd rather stay here, in London, with his family. But he knew better than to decline a king.

"I do, Your Majesty."

"Promise me you will keep her safe. I don't trust many people, Barnaby, but I do trust you. More than even my wife, I dare say."

"I promise, Your Majesty."

Barnaby was surprised that the King was showing such affection for his daughter. Princess Jane would be right to hate him, he did, to some extent. He would be willing to let his wife rot. The Queen, 'the Lady in the Tower', was improving. It was amazing how quick her recoveries were, and scary how fast her health could plummet.

"Thank you," he said. "You may go."

Barnaby bowed and swaggered off. On his way back to his chambers, he saw Lady Rose. She was a beautiful girl, her red hair was her most famous feature. It was even brighter than Elizabeth's or Edward's. She had a small figure and a childish attitude. The poor girl was barely even an adult. She was a child surrounded by adults who expected her to be one.

He bowed to her. "Your Majesty," he greeted.

"I pray you are well, my lord," her voice was gentle and soft. He had only heard her speak once, at the wedding. She was smiling, very widely. She looked happier than usual.

"I am, Your Majesty. And you?"

"Very much so," she chirped. "I have important news to tell His Majesty, so if you don't mind."

He bowed again. "Of course not, Your Majesty."

She smiled and skipped off. He could only wonder what it was she had to tell the King.

Barnaby Fitzpatrick rarely ever eavesdropped, but when he did, it was because it was of extreme importance or he was extremely interested. And it was a bit of both.

He followed the Lady Rose to the King's headquarters, where he had been only moments ago. She entered the room, unaware of the man behind her. He stood outside the door and made it seems as if he wished for an audience with the King.

He didn't hear much, only murmurs from the King and his 'wife'. He realised what they were talking about when the King shouted out with glee, "You're with child?"

He also heard Lady Rose's innocent giggle. He had heard enough and swaggered off. With a child on the way, the King would pay no mind to Queen Isabel or his daughters. He pitied his daughters, really. They were neglected and put aside, simply because their mother was unable to have a child.

He walked to his chambers solemnly, with no further detours.