One of the reasons I decided to repost this story on Fanfiction is because I longed to part of that exclusive group of authors whose stories contained more than 100k words. The other reason is of course for those who don't go to Archive of Our Own but seriously guys, 1000,000 words is a new record for me so I am very pleased with myself.
October 9 1546
The Prince of Wales had come a long way since he was a shy child, never liking the attention he got, embarrassed by people constantly fawning over him. Now he proudly waved at the common folk as he and Marguerite rode towards London, reveling in their good wishes and praise.
Although they shouted blessings for him and Marguerite, George couldn't help but think the cheers were solely intended for their son who was named for both of their fathers and their older brothers.
Prince Henry Francis had turned a year-old last July and despite not being old enough to attend, a lavish banquet was thrown in his honor.
The crowd of common folk followed the royal carriages to the gates of Greenwich, still cheering loudly as the carriages came to stop at the great lawn where King Henry and his court stood waiting.
George helped Marguerite out of the carriage, waiting for their son to be put in her arms before they made their way to King Henry.
"We are pleased to have you home again, Your Highnesses," the red-haired monarch proclaimed, a smile parting his wrinkled cheeks.
"As are we, Your Majesty," George replied, studying his father worriedly, wondering if it was just his imagination that despite being imposing as he always was, the king seemed rather tired looking as if he had barely been able to muster enough energy to walk outside and greet his son.
If King Henry wasn't feeling well, he did not intend on letting it show as he threw his arm around George, leading him inside the castle, asking question after question about how George was faring in Wales.
Just for a moment, George felt as though he was a boy again, being doted on by his beloved Papa, unaware that those carefree days would soon be over.
"Mary, am I a vain woman?" Anne asked playfully once she and her ladies were in the privacy of the queen's apartments. "As much as I love Henry Francis, I can't help but wince every time someone refers to me as his grandmother."
Despite her words, Anne couldn't help but smile thinking of that precious little angel who had such pinchable cheeks and a gummy little smile that could melt the hardest of hearts.
She remembered her elation when she learned that her daughter-in-law was pregnant, almost ten years after the last of George's siblings were born. She had also felt melancholy as becoming a father would be an undeniable sign that her baby was no longer a child but a man.
"Nay, sweet sister. You, like most people, do not like the reminder that you are growing older," Mary assured her as she fixed her sister's hair. "As overjoyed as I was when Cathy gave birth to her firstborn, I remember feeling so very old when little Henry called me Granny for the first time."
"To be young again," Anne said with a sigh. Speaking of being young: in the mirror's reflection, she caught sight of her cousin trying to sneak into her chambers unseen. Anne watched as Kitty kept glancing over at her, unaware that her mistress could see her and then she darted to an empty chair, clearly intending to make it seem as though she had been there the entire time. Anne decided to wait a few minutes, allowing Kitty to feel a measure relief before shattering her illusion that she had successfully tricked her royal mistress: "Mistress Howard, my ladies were supposed to accompany me back to my apartments before court reconvened in an hour. Did something cause you to lose your way?" she asked sternly, still not turning around, mostly so Kitty could not see the amusement in her eyes or the fact that she was fighting a smile.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty, I was catching up with a friend," Kitty told her, her cheeks pink and her eyes low, obviously feeling guilty for lying to her older cousin who she loved and admired. "It won't happen again."
Anne exchanged a knowing smirk with her sister. Whenever George visited court, Kitty seemed to always be in the company of one of his grooms, whether it was a dance or a stroll in the gardens.
Having become extremely fond of her cousin and having already been fond of her suiter since the day she met him at the orphanage, Anne wanted nothing more than to see that the two lovebirds see each other more often.
"Well I certainly hope not for your tardiness, I might have to ask Princess Margot if she will take you in her household," Anne remarked, still pretending to be admonishing Kitty.
When Norfolk had first brought Kitty to court, Anne had been ready to treat her cousin no differently from her other ladies, unwilling to be lenient on her if she found her conduct lacking. However not only did Kitty's sweet and somewhat naive nature make her endearing, Anne had been aghast at what Kitty had to endure from both their step grandmother and her teacher at Lambeth. Anne had come to see Kitty as something as daughter and it was a mutual feeling as Kitty looked horrified at Anne's words.
However as Kitty opened her mouth to protest, realization dawned on her and if possible her cheeks turned pinker. "If that is Your Majesty's wish, I shall strive to make you proud," she said sweetly.
Anne beamed at the girl, knowing that Kitty looked up to her as a mentor of sorts and she had no intention of letting her down. Although she was certain her uncle would not be pleased by his niece marrying a baseborn, she would make sure to provide the young couple with whatever they needed to start their lives.
She would not let Kitty go through the years of uncertainty she had once faced, waiting to see if she could marry the man she loved, knowing that there were those who would do everything in their power to put obstacles in their way.
And although Anne had no regrets, Kitty and Andrew deserved an easier road to happiness.
"To be young and in love again," Anne whispered as she recalled the stolen moments behind closed doors and the love letters that would remain locked in a box beneath her bed.
October 12 1546
"You look beautiful," George whispered in his wife's ear, nuzzling her. "You always look beautiful but in the light of the morning you look almost divinely lovely."
"Such poetic words will turn me into a vain woman, my lord," Margot teased, stroking his cheek.
"Perhaps but I cannot help myself," George told her before grinning wolfishly. "As I recall that was why our son was conceived because I could not stay away from you." His smile became broader as the woman in his arms giggled and turned red at his thinly-veiled innuendo.
"And to think the first time we lay together, you looked terrified," Margot laughed, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
"It helped that you were so patient with me despite my fumbling," George said, not at all offended by her scrutiny. It wasn't as though he could deny it and besides, he knew Margot would never have humiliated him by telling anyone else about the awkward consummation of their marriage.
"It was my first time too, Georges, I was nervous as well. I just managed to hide it better than you. After all, being older doesn't mean I was more experienced," Margot remarked before her expression became horrified as the implication of those words dawned on her.
"Well I would hope not!" George exclaimed, struggling to keep an appropriately scandalized look on his face before he dissolved into laughter.
"Older also doesn't mean wiser," Margot jested, burying her face into George's chest again, struggling to contain her own laughter.
Since Lady Bryan's retirement, the royal children's household had been split up as all of them were well past the age of six and they each had their own set of companions.
Elizabeth had not minded it too much especially when she had permanent lodgings at court. However, she did miss seeing her brothers and sister as often as she had when they were in Eltham together.
She didn't really just how much she missed her siblings until Edward arrived with a bunch of pastries and other goodies tucked away in a basket and Elizabeth was immediately reminded of how Edward had made it his mission to sneak away from their governesses to sneak down to the kitchen. He used to declare that he only did it to prove he could and getting treats for himself and his siblings was only a bonus.
"Annette will not be pleased," Elizabeth remarked as she selected a pasty from the basket.
"She won't be upset if she never finds out," Edward countered, grinning mischievously as he offered the treats to Owen as well.
As the middle child, Edward was close to all four of his siblings, spending just as much time with Owen and Elizabeth as he did with Annette and George. He was often the one lifting their spirits and making them laugh. He prided himself as being the one who brought George out of his shell despite being three years younger than him.
"That is true, Elizabeth, I certainly won't be telling her anything," Owen put in as he took a big bite out of his pastry.
"Well what if I tell her?" Elizabeth teased having no intention of ever doing so.
Edward smirked, knowing his sister's weakness. "Well if you tell on me, Lisbeth, I will never visit you again and if I don't visit you than a certain Master Dudley will not be visiting you either," he pointed out smugly.
Elizabeth glared at him but didn't say a word which was all the confirmation her brothers needed.
Princess Annette was not pleased. She was furious and struggling hard to not let it show as she sewed. She reminded herself that she was not a child and besides even if she were to throw a tantrum, her father was capable of throwing a bigger one.
Although she prided herself in being a dutiful daughter, she still found it galling to be forced into an arranged marriage to a man whose country had caused her parents no end of headaches.
"Prince Philip and his father think my mother is a whore and that I am a daughter of a whore. How could Father ask me to marry him, knowing how they will treat me?" Annette complained, stilling reeling from the conversation she had with King Henry less than an hour.
The red-haired monarch had informed Annette that he was currently in negotiation with the Holy Roman Emperor for a marriage between her and Phillip of Spain, expecting her to be pleased that he was in the process of securing such a good match for her, after years of disappointment after disappointment.
After the Dauphin Francis' death, Annette had been engaged to the Crown Prince of Portugal and then when he died, she was betrothed to Duke Charles of France until he died. So had it been any other bridegroom other than the arrogant and pompous Spanish Prince, Annette would have been relived that she was not to become a spinster with no crown on her head.
Feeling particularly angry, she voiced that last thought out loud as she jabbed her needle quite violently into the fabric she was stitching.
"How do you know that he is arrogant and pompous?" Jane Boleyn asked, an skeptical eyebrow raised.
"Because he's Spanish, Catholic and everyone knows his family hates my mother," Annette snapped.
It had taken her a long time to learn of the Great Matter and once she had, she began to wonder if people were really paying her a compliment when they said she was so much like her mother or they still derided Anne Boleyn as a Godless heretical strumpet and they believed that Annette was just like her.
"You say that he will be making assumptions about you but aren't you doing the same to him," Jane pointed out logically.
Annette glared at her cousin but did not argue as she could see the sense of her words even if she was certain that her gut feeling was correct.
"Perhaps you could write to your sister. I'm sure if she writes to her cousin, saying how happy she is that you will be marrying Prince Phillip, he wouldn't treat you unkindly," Marian suggested.
"I'm sure Mary would write to them anyway but I doubt that her word is going to have any effect on whether or not he treats me kindly," Annette said, a ghost of a smile on her face as she thought of her beloved older sister.
Despite being gone from England for the past ten years, Mary and Annette had remained close, writing to each other whenever they had a moment to spare. Mary had named Annette godmother of her daughter Katrina.
The thought of Mary quelled Annette's anger and gave her a feeling of sadness, knowing that her sister would have jumped at the chance to marry Phillip not just because he was the great-nephew of her mother but also because it would mean she could live in her mother's homeland.
But instead Mary became the Queen of Sweden and despite her misgivings, she had done so without a word of defiance. And Annette would do no less.
October 29 1546
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Andrew asked, feeling very insecure. As it ridiculous as it was, he couldn't help but think that when Kitty saw the place he had spent half of his life, she would have second thoughts accepting his proposal.
Oh dear God, she had accepted his proposal. She was his fiancée. He had still been unable to believe that Lady Katherine Howard, granddaughter of a duke had agreed to marry him, a man who would still be a penniless orphan if it weren't for the Queen and her brother's kindness along with the Earl of Essex's mentorship.
"I wouldn't have asked to come along if I didn't want to, silly," Kitty giggled, either unaware of his insecurities or just unwilling to even acknowledge them. She kissed his cheek as they entered the orphanage and were greeted by Mistress Brown who despite walking with a cane, was still as kind and warm as she had been all those years ago.
When Andrew had first visited the orphanage years after he had left, he had been worried that he might be treated differently and he almost cried in relief when instead of curtsying as she would with anyone else ranked higher than her, Mistress Brown had immediately pulled him into a hug and quizzed him on how he was doing.
"Goodness, I had hoped you would stop growing eventually but you seem determined to bump your head on the ceiling," Mistress Brown teased him before she noticed the Queen's ladies who had brought baskets for clothes, blankets and food to be donated to not only the orphanage but the various poorhouses and hospitals. "I hope you're not just here for business, Andrew, because it has been too long since we've seen you and I demand at least an hour of your time."
"You know I could never say no to you, Miss Mathilda," Andrew laughed. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Kitty sending him an expectant look. "It would give me some time to introduce my fiancée, Mistress Katherine Howard."
Mistress Brown glanced at Kitty and her eyes widened when she realized that the lady Andrew was indicating was clearly a woman of noble birth. She became even more taken aback when Kitty hugged her, declaring that any family of Andrew's was family to her.
Seeing this made Andrew feel a lot less insecure. It wasn't until Kitty jested that being around children would be good practice did he start to feel nervous again.
As it was only three days before the Prince of Wales' birthday and All Saints day, the court was filled with excitement with people chattering excitedly about the festivities that were planned for the doubly special day.
Henry and Anne sat on their thrones, watching as the various couples danced with each other. He noticed that while Owen was dancing with Annette, Edward seemed to have decided to dance with Mary Dudley, forcing his sister to dance with Robert Dudley instead. Although oddly, Elizabeth did not look put out in the least.
He smiled at the sight of Kitty and Andrew dancing, making a mental note to tell Cromwell he wanted to make the young knight a baron in the near future. Although Norfolk knew better than to object to the young couple's marriage as the King had given his permission for them to marry, he still thought it would be nice to make sure the bright boy could not be accused of being too lowborn for the niece of a duke.
The king's smile only brightened at the sigh of his soon-to-be eighteen-year-old son dancing with his wife. It could not be denied that Georgie was head over heels in love with his wife and she was with him. He just hoped that it would not turn out like Henry and Katherine but be like him and Anne.
Speaking of Anne, Henry could see by the look on her face that she was itching to dance but for fear of offending her husband whose doctor had cautioned him on doing too many exhaustive activities, she'd seek out another dance partner, deciding instead to remain at her husband's side.
Hating feeling like an old man and wishing to recapture the early days of their courtship, Henry got up and offered Anne his arm.
"Come dance with me, my love," he implored her.
"Henry-" Anne began, glancing at him worriedly as if she feared he might topple over right then and there.
"No, no. I am an old man, Anne, one who has so very few pleasures left he can enjoy. Let us pretend to be young and carefree, just for tonight," he pleaded.
"All right, my love. If you feel up to it," Anne agreed.
Had their children not been in attendance, Henry would have demanded that Mark Smeaton played a volta.
In the end it did not matter, for dancing with Anne was enough to bring back memories of those intimate passion filled dances they shared together.
However their moment of bliss did not last long for the red-haired monarch felt a tightness around his heart and suddenly it was becoming hard to breath. His vision was becoming spotty and the room seemed to spin until the floor came up to meet him.
"Henry!" Anne shouted as she knelt down beside him.
"Some quick, fetch a physician!" George shouted, joining his mother at his father's side. "Father, please stay with us."
January 28 1547
Henry was dying. He had no illusions of that. His health had started to fail him a year ago and when he had a heart attack almost four months ago, it had become obvious that he would not live to see the end of this decade. A fortnight ago, he had become too sick and weak to leave his bed and it became obvious to all that there would be a new King of England before the snow began to melt.
Although it broke the old king's heart to leave his loved ones behind, he couldn't help but be gladdened that he would die knowing that he had secured his dynasty and that his children would be well taken cared of.
Mary was now the Queen of Sweden and she had given birth to his grandchildren: Katrina, Cecilia and Johan. From her countless letters, Henry was aware that his pearl was happy and treated well in her new country.
Annette was engaged to the widowed Crown Prince of Spain, in hopes not to have England be influenced too much by the French as it was well known how the future King of England loved his French wife. Although Annette would have preferred to be the Queen of France, Henry was certain his sapphire would flourish just as much as the Queen of Spain.
As for his youngest daughter, Elizabeth, Henry had been rather lax in looking for a suitable husband for his ruby. She might be the third daughter but that did not mean she didn't deserve a marriage as grand as her sisters. Perhaps the Crown Prince of Denmark would be a good fit, making all of Henry's daughters queens.
The marriage agreement between Edward and the Archduchess Magdalena had been finalized after some years of back and forth between the Holy Roman Emperor and England. While Edward was certainly not in love or even as friendly with his bride-to-be, Henry hoped it would be a happy and fruitful match.
With Owen, Henry had wanted him to marry the infant Queen of Scots but her mother wanted her to be married to the Dauphin's son instead. Henry had made some attempts to change their mind but in the end, Cromwell had suggested the daughter of one of the German Princes instead.
Henry had always been afraid that he would leave his country in the hands of a child queen who would suffer at the hands of ambitious nobles seeking to control her. Thankfully George, for all his tender-heart, was not a child to be controlled nor a girl to be doubted.
The Prince of Wales was eighteen, only a year younger than his father had been when he took the throne. Unlike Henry, George had been training for kinghood since he was ten and he already had his heir.
Although Henry had wanted George to wait a year before consummating his marriage with Princess Marguerite, he found he could not condemn his son for not being able to resist temptation of a lovely princess especially when they were able to present a grandson who made up for their disobedience.
Even though Henry wasn't completely fond of the name they gave him, Henry Francis was the light of his grandfather's life and it hurt that he would not get to spend any more time with him.
As he lay on his bed, Henry thought back to twenty years ago when he and Anne were still waiting for permission to get married. He could never have guessed just what those twenty years would bring both the joy and the tragedies. He could never have guessed just how lucky he would get with his wife.
Anne and he had been through a lot together and while a part of him was sorry to leave her, another part of him envied her. She would get to see their son be king and watch their grandchildren grow up.
"Anne," he rasped, his hand squeezing the hand in his, knowing instinctively that it was hers. "It's the golden age, my love. We have done it."
His queen did not reply as she was struggling not to wail in grief. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she bent down to give him a final kiss.
Soon Henry's eyes fluttered closed as he let out his final breath, looking far more peaceful than he ever had in all fifty-five years of life.
"The King is dead, long live the King!"
January 31 1547
Sweden
Her father was dead and Mary prayed for his soul. She pleaded with God to forgive his sins. Although she knew it was doubtful, she hoped that on his deathbed her father had renounced the false faith, declaring that he was a true Catholic in the end.
She also prayed that George would return England to the flock of Rome. Deep in her heart, she knew that was not to be either. The only one of her siblings who had embraced the Catholic faith was Annette and that was only because she admired Mary so much she wanted to emulate her, not to mention knowing that her future husband would demand it of her.
Mary could feel the tears trickling down her cheeks as she recited a prayer in Latin, taking advantage of being in her private chapel to be able to use the Catholic rites she would always take comfort in.
"Mama?" a young voice spoke softly.
The Queen of Sweden was surprised to see her five-year-old son behind her. His governess soon hurried in, explaining that Mary's ladies had told John that his mother was in her chapel but instead of waiting until she was done, John had decided that he wanted to see her now.
Mary assured John's governess that she was not upset and sent the woman away, deciding that she would feel better with John in her arms, his mere presence was already mending the hole her father's death had left in her heart.
"Mama, why are you sad? And why do you pray with those funny words?" John asked curiously.
"I'm sad because your grandpa King Henry passed away," Mary explained, deciding not to answer the later question. Although Gustav allowed her to practice her faith, he made it clear that she was not to influence their children to do the same. She wasn't even allowed to leave her mother's rosery or cross to her children in her will. Although she hoped she could convince one of her Swedish ladies who served her loyally to give them to her children who would keep them out of love to her if not because they believed in the true faith.
"Like Eric's mama," John clarified, being old enough to know that his older brother was not his full brother.
"That's right, sweetheart," Mary agreed, cuddling John close, kissing the top of his head.
"Is it true that when you were younger, you were going to be the Queen of England?" John asked, looking up at his mother with an almost shrewd look on her face.
"And who told you that?" Mary inquired, trying not to flinch at the memories her son's words brought out in her.
"Eric and I were being taught about succession laws and my tutor said that there was a time in England when you had no legitimate brothers so had Grandpa Henry not married again, you would have been Queen. I'm glad you weren't though," John said with a big smile on his face.
"Oh and why is that?" Mary asked, unable to keep the smile off her face as she knew exactly what her son was about to say.
"Because then you wouldn't have had me and I wouldn't be here to tell you I love you and you're the best Mama in the whole wide world," John replied. His eyes widened in horror when Mary started to cry again. "I'm sorry Mama. That wasn't supposed to make you sad, that was supposed to make you happy."
"No, no, sweetheart, I'm not sad. I'm crying because I'm happy that I have the sweetest little boy as my son," Mary gushed. For the first time, Mary was suddenly relived, instead of just resigned, that George succeeded their father instead of her. Because would never want to live in a world without her three precious children: Katrina, Cecilia and John.
February 6 1547
England
Despite his father dying two years ago, George often found it bizarre to be called the Duke of Wiltshire and whenever someone would say Lord Wiltshire, he would assume that they were speaking about his father instead of him.
He wondered if his nephew and namesake felt the same way now that he was being called Your Majesty and everyone looked to him to make decisions.
To give his nephew credit, Georgie did not shrink from his duties, although he refused to move into the King's apartments or make his mother leave the Queen's apartments until the period of morning was over. But he still did not allow himself to wallow in grief, saying rather wisely that the world had not stopped moving just because a great king had died.
He called for a council to discuss the affairs of state, wanting to be sure that everything was going smoothly and there were no pressing matters that warranted his full attention.
"Our ambassador at the Imperial court reports that the Holy Roman Emperor is still hoping for a marriage between one of your sisters and his son. Furthermore, his niece will arrive in England once she has turned sixteen," Rich reported.
"I must admit I have my doubts of sending my sister to a Catholic country, one known to be especially harsh on those they believe are heretics," the young king remarked, frowning darkly.
It was well known that Georgie had come to distrust Catholics, agreeing full heartedly with Cranmer's assistance that the Catholic parts of his coronation ceremony should be removed.
Thankfully he was not at the point where he fanatically hated them.
"If I may be frank, Your Majesty," Cromwell began, waiting for the monarch to nod before he continued speaking. "While you and the rest of your siblings have leaned towards reformation, Princess Annette has always been more neutral. Not to mention her close sisterhood with the Queen of Sweden inspired her to learn Spanish along with French. She would make a fine queen of any country."
"Of course she would. She is my mother's daughter," King George jested, smiling for a minute before sobering. "Well if Annette has no objections to the match, we will continue the negotiations. Is there anything else my lords?"
"We have some proposals from various kingdoms, seeking the hands of not only Princess Elizabeth and Prince Owen but also Prince Henry-Francis," the Duke of Wiltshire explained, sorting through his notes.
"My son isn't even two. I think we can hold off a few years before finding a bride for him," George decided. Although his marriage had technically been arranged a year before he was even born, he thought it would be best to wait for a few years, giving him some time to find a bride befitting of his precious boy. "As for Elizabeth, I think we should look toward Sweden or Denmark for a groom. What of Owen though? I'd hate to have all my siblings' futures be secure except for his."
"I believe there are a few Italian and German nobles who would be willing to marry their daughters to your brother," the Earl of Southampton said with a wry grin.
"Good. I can only hope that my siblings' marriages will turn out as well as mine," George remarked, his eyes glowing with love as his thought became momentarily consumed with his queen.
In this story John takes the place of his brother Magnus with Katrina and Ceclia being born first. Not that this extremely important but I have decided that only two of his other siblings will be born: Elizabeth and Charles. Also important history fact: John of Sweden was Catholic having being influenced by his wife who by the way was Mary's cousin.
I was going to have Anne have another daughter named Margaret who would eventually marry either Mary's stepson or William the silent of the Nehterlands but I decided not to.
The next chapter will focus more on the Tudor siblings. And of course we will be properly introduced to little Henry-Francis. Am I the only one who loves that name?