A/N: Alright, so I have decided the plot for the next few chapters: Lisa's relationship with each of her children one by one in their point of view. We'll start from the eldest, and end at the youngest.
Summary:The Prince of Wales' thoughts on his mother.
Henry
He had always wanted her to be proud of him.
Harry knew she loved him, she loved all her children – she'd travel to the ends of the Earth or go right into war for any of them.
He knew his mother's pride is not easy to have, that he would have to work hard for it, but he is her son, her heir, and hadn't he done everything to make her proud?
(He didn't know, then, that she was proud of him the minute he was handed in her arms as a baby).
His four-year-old mind does not – could not – understand why his mother has never said "I'm so proud of you!" like he'd heard most mothers say.
He was two, the governess informed, when he was married to Princess Margaret of Scotland. He was just four and he learned he had been married for two years because his father-in-law used to be mistrustful of the English.
When she came to England, he made sure to be the perfect gentleman, and hoped she liked him. He too wanted a marriage like his parents'.
He'd heard the maids say his father had never taken a 'mistress': he didn't know what a mistress was, but the way the spoke made it clear that taking one is a horrid thing from women's perspective.
The Princess Margaret liked to be called 'Meg', so Harry called her that; he was honoured she'd let him, a boy she had known for only a day, use her nickname.
His mother, he saw, was being kinder than she usually was to her, but it only lasted until she was comfortable in English soil. Then, she went back to her normal self.
Years passed by, he got more siblings, and his and Meg's relationship bettered. When she was seven, he was the one who comforted her about losing her brother and took pride in it.
A year after that, her father died.
This time it wasn't him, but Mother who took Meg into her arms, let her cry into her shoulder, murmured condolences into her ear, and informed, "I lost my father when I was just three years older than you, you know."
More than that, she taught Meg every single thing she'd need to rule a country by herself, and made sure the younger girl's curtsy was only low enough to fit an equal: Queen to Queen, she jested.
He was thirteen when he provoked her anger for the first (and last) time.
Harry and his companions were out riding when there was a ditch of mud on the way; he got arrogant and tried to cross it with just a huge pole.
He did.
But he'd never expected what was to come after: the minute he came back on palace grounds, Tori was there with her arms crossed and Ned hot on her heels, "You've finally sparked that temper, you idiot." His sister fiercely whispered. Ned added on, "She's calling you to her study."
He didn't need to be told twice that his mother was furious.
When he entered, his groomsmen were there, talking to the Queen.
"And what made you not inform me immediately?" His mother's voice was like a knife, cutting and painful. He'd never heard her that way, and that only made him more fearful.
"Your Majesty, His Highness ordered not to do anything." Jack, he thought that was his voice, truthfully informed.
It didn't satisfy the eldest Tudor: "So, are you trying to tell me that you will stand by and watch as the Prince proceeds to put his life in danger because he ordered you to?!"
Harry didn't understand: Mother had never been that irate before. Had he truly done something so horrible in her eyes?
"You may leave; and let me inform you before – you will be looking for another job by the time the day is over, Sirs."
He went in after they went out, but before, "I'm sorry." The redhead knew that it wouldn't be able to make up to losing their job, but it was the thought that mattered.
As he strode into her study, afraid but hiding it well, he saw his mother standing with a frown etched on her face (frowns didn't look nice on her), and her eyes burning enough for him to know that yes, he'd provoked the infamous Tudor Temper that the English court so dreaded.
"Did you think before doing it?"
"Mother, I can explain!"
"Explain then, tell me why you found it so prudent to throw away any semblance of sense and do such a life-threatening stunt!"
He can't help it, he has to have inherited it from her anyway, "Mother why are you overreacting?! It was just a ditch of mud!"
The living image of him looks ready to fly into a rage, before she calms down, and perhaps that calm fury is what scares him most, "So, 'it was just a ditch of mud', hmm?"
"Yes!"
"Have I ever told you the story of how your grandfather and namesake, my father, died?" she didn't wait for him to answer, but only paused. "He, too, thought it was 'just a ditch of mud' and did the very same thing you did. And what happened after? I, a girl of eleven, became the new Queen of England in a matter of minutes."
He hadn't realised that the reason for her vexation was the fact that her own father had died doing the stunt he just did.
"Heirs and monarchs cannot do such things, Henry."
He foolishly blurted out, "Ned can be heir after me if something happens."
That was when she turned on him, "He can, but one son can't replace the other, Harry! You're my son, I can't – I won't – lose you too, not after Isa."
And in that moment he understood why she was so enraged at his behaviour: his mother wasn't one to cry, and lament, she took her grief and turned it into fury. That was how it always was, except for a few rare times.
Harry felt horrible; he'd worried her so much, while the sorrow of losing her youngest daughter was still fresh in her heart. "I'm sorry." He mumbled again. This time, she hugged him with open arms.
Harry felt that this was the greatest show of affection he'd ever gotten from her.
(But what could he know? He didn't exactly know what happened when he was a baby)
After that, he went to Dunstable Priory, to visit his grandmother. He knew his mother had tried her best to make her stay with them, but Queen Mother Katherine of Aragon wasn't to be moved, and thus, the matter was closed with promises of weekly letters and regular visits.
He asked her a thing that had been bothering him ever since he figured it out, he asked her why his mother's sadness was swiftly turned into anger.
"She is much like her father, the other Henry, in that matter." His grandmother informed, "She will never let the tears fall in someone's view, Lisa thinks crying is a weakness like her father did. Your mother will never cry where someone can see her, so she does what Henry – the other one – did, and gets irate."
He was sixteen when he and Meg were married, and inevitably, his title changed: His Grace, Henry Tudor: King-consort of Scotland, Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Ross, Marquis of Ormonde, and Earl of Chester.
A year later, baby Edmund was welcomed into the world.
When his mother held her first grandchild for the first time, he saw the beaming smile on her face, and wondered, did she smile like that when Ned, Tori and I were born?
Apparently, Aunt Anne could see what he was thinking.
"I thought the same way when George was born." The Countess of Northumberland paused, "It took nine hours and your mother cursing endlessly in Spanish for you three to be born; it was absolute commotion, with the three of you coming one after the other. But the way she smiled when she held all three of you at once, well, it was as if the sun had lighted itself at midnight – your father's words, not mine."
And maybe, just maybe, that was the time when he began to believe there was at least a tiny speck of pride for him in his mother's heart.
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As she was dying, his mother asked of him things that he would never dare to refuse: "Take care of Meg and your children, take care of your siblings, and do not blame your father or little Jacquetta. And please, please continue this dynasty's greatness and existence. Don't let your great-grandfather, your grandfather and my work to be in vain, please." She croaked.
But still, her last words to him bought him the most strength during every single time that he felt he wasn't ready to be King; "I'm so very proud of you, Henry."
A/N: Phew. I know this was short, but as I've written in the previous chapter: the next few chapters will be short. Tell me what you think of Henry and Lisa's mother-son dynamic, and of the ditch incident. Sorry for killing off Lisa, but every kid of hers' relation with her will be shown till they deathbed. Don't worry, though, her dying in every chapter isn't going to be permanent!
Also, Guest (Lady N and P): I've made the needed changes. Thank you.