November 25th 1503
Queen's Chambers, Hampton Palace, England
Queen Persephone POV
I get an odd letter from Queen Margaret of Asturias, my stepdaughter until I really read it and I go storming to my husband, demanding an explanation when our marriage was based on love!
"Darling, they need excellent matches." Henry says.
"One, you know I love you but you are not their father, and two, they are babes! They need to love and ah don't. You are lucky I found out from Margaret otherwise, I would have been angrier than I am now!" I tell Henry.
"And if you have tried the same thing with Mary, so help me, you will sleep in your study!" I tell Henry and don't even bother telling him about my little secret, the fact that I am four months with not one child but mayhap three.
I am too angry with Henry to sit down and tell him. But something must have alerted father, or maybe mother did as he gives me a calming brew of tea so I won't miscarry the babes he says.
"I don't understand it father. They are just babes. Plus, they aren't even his children!" I tell my father.
"I mean yes, they're his grandchildren but the parents decide who weds who!"
"It's because I want to know where they shall be my love." Henry sys, from the doorway, where he was as he came to apologize apparently.
"Henry! If you just told me that you were still afraid you lose the rest of us, I would have understood my love." I say, going to him and hugging him, comforting my King and Husband.
King Henry VII POV
I take Persephone in my arms as I love the comfort she is giving me. She is my moon and light of my life. I must have said that out loud as Persephone is giving me a loving look.
"And you are my sun and the light throughout my dark times my love." Persephone says.
"Madame, you are a shrine of all beauty,
As far encircling as the map of the world.
For you shine as the glorious crystal,
And your round cheeks are like Ruby.
Therewith you are so merry and so jocund,
That at a revel when that I see you dance;
It is an ointment unto my wound,
Though you, to me, do no dalliance.
For though I weep a basin of tears,
Yet may that woe not confound my heart.
Your seemly voice that you so delicately bring forth,
Make my thoughts, in joy and bliss, abound.
So courteously I go, with love bound
That, to myself, I say in my penance,
"Suffer me to love you Rosemounde;
Though you, to me, do no dalliance".
Never was pike so imbued in galantine
As I in love, am imbued and wounded.
For which I very oft, of myself, deign
That I am true Tristan the Second.
My love may not be cooled nor sunk,
I burn in an amorous pleasance.
Do what you like, I bid you find your thrall
Though you, to me, do no dalliance." I recite to my lovely rose, my Persephone, then recite another.
"My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear;
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming,
The owner's tongue doth publish everywhere.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays;
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops his pipe in growth of riper days:
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue:
Because I would not dull you with my song." I recite.
"I know a maiden in a bright bower,
That is fully lovely to see,
Worshipful maiden of might;
Fair and free to take;
In all this noble multitude
A maiden of blood and of goodness
Never yet I knew not none
Lovelier on earth.
Blow northern wind!
Send me my sweetheart!
Blow northern wind! blow, blow, blow!
With long, lovely locks,
With shape and face lovely to take between my hands,
May she mingle with many joys,
That bird so full of life in bower.
With lovely eye great and good,
With brown bliss under hood,
He that rest him on the Cross,
That [values?] life honor.
Blow northern wind!
Send me my sweetheart!
Blow northern wind! blow, blow, blow!
Her face beams light,
Like a lantern at night,
Her color looks so bright.
So fair she is and fine.
She has a darling neck for holding,
With arms shoulder as man would,
And fingers fair to enfold,
God would she were mine!
Blow northern wind!
Send me my sweetheart!
Blow northern wind! blow, blow, blow!
She is a coral of goodness,
She is a ruby of righteousness,
She is a crystal of purity,
And banner of beauty.
She is a lily of renown,
She is periwinkle of prowess,
She is sunflower of sweetness,
And lady of loyalty.
For her love I worry and care,
For her love I droop and dare,
For her love my bliss is bare
And all else pales,
For her love I lose sleep,
For her love all night I wake,
For her love I pine
More than any man.
Blow northern wind!
Send thou me my sweetheart!
Blow northern wind! blow, blow, blow!" I recite.
Persephone smiles at me with love in her eyes and starts singing.
"What is a youth?
Impetuous fire
What is a maid?
Ice and desire
The world wags on
A rose will bloom
It then will fade
So does a youth
So does the fairest maid
Comes a time when one sweet smile
Has its season for awhile
Then love's in love with me
Some may think only to marry
Others will tease and tarry
Mine is the very best parry
Cupid, he rules us all
Caper the caper sing me the song
Death will come soon to hush us along
Sweeter than honey and bitter as gall
Love is a past time that never will pall
Sweeter than honey and bitter as gall
Cupid, he rules us all
A rose will bloom
It then will fade
So does a youth
So does the fairest maid." She sings.
I kiss her passionately and hold her to me.
"So, you have something to tell me, my love?" I ask.
"I may be carrying more than one child my love. The midwife told me I was lucky the first time." Persephone says.
"And you'll be lucky again my love. I know you will" I tell her.