Chapter 32

Here's Chapter 32! I know the last chapter was VERY long and I hoped many of you enjoyed that. I can definitely tell you know that this will be the final Chapter for the year 1553 and it will end on a very good note. I hope you all are satisfied now, because the next few years in the story will be very eventful, but I don't not want to spoil any details. There will be other characters that are introduced, so if you need any help keeping up, please inbox me, but I can tell you about one family. The Guerra Family that's in Portugal is the family of King Carlos' elder sister, Infanta Joanna. They are just a wealthy noble family related to the Crown. Now, without further delay, here's chapter 32! Please Read and Review!

September 10, 1553

Palace of Lisbon, Lisbon, Portugal

King Carlos of Portugal's Privy Chamber

Carlos was looking over some important business. He was so busy and preoccupied, that he didn't hear his nephew, Martim enter the room. The young man stood there for a few moments, before clearing his throat, announcing his presence.

Carlos looked up smiling.

"Nephew, I am pleased at your presence. Is everything going fine with the Queen?" he asked.

Martim smiled one of his rare smiles.

"The Queen is a wonderful woman. She's kind, yet stern. She's a wonderful companion." he said.

Carlos nodded.

"That's a wonderful thing. Now, is everything ready for your sister, Sancha's, departure for Castile and her wedding?" he asked.

Martim nodded his head.

"Yes, we depart for Castile tomorrow. Mother also thanks you for the gold you sent to Castile for the preparations of Sancha's wedding." he said.

Carlos smiled.

"My sister is most welcome. The Crown has the gold to spend and Sancha's wedding wasn't as expensive as your sister, Rosaria's wedding." he said.

Martim smiled at the mention of his younger sister, Rosaria. It was at that mention of her name, that the woman he was madly in love with danced across his mind.

Unbeknownst to him, his uncle had been trying to get his attention.

Carlos cleared his throat.

"Martim, are you listening to me?" he asked sternly.

Martin sighed.

"I'm sorry, Uncle. I just have something on my mind." he admitted.

Carlos smiled.

"What's her name?" he asked.

Martim looked at Carlos, in surprise.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

Carlos stood up.

"Martim, ever since you returned from Florence, you've had a different look on your face and your thoughts seem to wander. As a man in love myself, I can recognize the signs. Now, tell me. You can talk to me. I'm your uncle, not just your King." he said.

Martim smiled.

"Her name is Theresa. She's from a wealthy noble family in Tuscany and she's currently in my sister, Rosaria's household. She's beautiful, intelligent and pious. Uncle, I love Theresa and I wish to marry her. I can still keep my post on guarding Queen Maria, but I need Theresa by my side. My older brother is married with an heir already. I should be able to marry for love." he said.

Carlos nodded.

"What family does this Theresa girl come from?" he asked.

Martim smiled.

"The Simonetti family in Tuscany." he said.

Carlos nodded, in approval. The Simonetti family was a rich family that were bankers. Although they weren't as wealthy or powerful as the Medici Family, they were still rich enough to marry up in status.

Carlos grabbed his nephew by the shoulders.

"Martim, you escort your sister to Castile in preparation for her marriage. While you are gone, I will talk to your mother and we will see about your marriage." he said.

Martim grew a huge smile on his face.

"Do you mean it Uncle?!" he asked, in excitement.

Carlos nodded his head, in response.

"I promise I do. However, now I want you to rest. You have a long journey ahead of you." he said.

Martim bowed his head and almost ran from Carlos' sight, to the amusement of the forty-one year old King.


September 13, 1553

Edinburgh Palace, Edinburgh, Scotland

Margaret, Dowager Queen of Scotland's Bedchamber

Margaret, Dowager Queen of Scotland, lay in her bed recovering from yet another illness. She had enjoyed good health most of her life, despite being married and having children so young, and had never spent more than a few days in bed before in her life. She crossed herself, knowing that her end was near, but praying that God would grant her the mercy of seeing her young granddaughter, Mary, who had been the Scottish Queen since she was a child, married to the Prince of Wales. This match was vital to Scotland's future, and it was important to the older woman who wanted to see the two nations she loved united.

The door to her bed chamber flung open and her herald announced the arrival of her eldest surviving son, Prince Arthur, Duke of Albany, who was acting as Mary's regent until Margaret recovered. He bowed as he entered the room and waited until the doors closed behind him before approaching her bed. Margaret noticed that her 42-year-old son was starting to grey and thought he looked handsome with the white mixed in with his dark red hair. Arthur reminded her of her late husband, King James, more than any of her other children, even though he resembled his uncle, England's late King Henry VIII physically. Arthur's mannerisms were every bit those of his father.

"Good morning mother," Arthur said.

"Good morning my son," Margaret replied. "How are things in our realm this morning?"

"Would you like all of the news, mother, or just the important parts?"

"You may as well tell me everything. It will give me something to think about while I am stuck in this room."

"The borders remain quiet for the most part, despite the recent uprisings. The troops we sent to secure the region seem to be holding the peace for now. Mary has received several letters from priests in the area thanking her Majesty for the ample supply of grain that was sent from the royal stores, as well." Margaret nodded. She had assumed that the lack of food was the reason for the uprisings and her instincts were right once again. "Elisabeth has sent word that her son, Wilhelm, Elector of Saxony, has secured a betrothal for his eldest, Oskar, to Princess Ludmila of Poland, and that they will marry in 1559, when the girl is sixteen."

"Good," replied the older woman. "That is a strong match for my great-grandson. She will be of great help to him."

Arthur nodded and continued. "Joseph wrote to inform us that Duncan's betrothal to Lady Emily has been called off. He's looking for a new bride for his son. Apparently, the young lady decided that serving God was more important than marrying a future Duke."

"One can hardly fault her for that decision, though it pains me for Duncan's sake," Margaret said.

"Yes, but Duncan is hardly troubled by the news," Arthur informed her. "After all, Lady Emily is fourteen and he is twenty-one. They were to meet this coming spring, so he was never attached to her other than in writing."

Margaret nodded. It was a hardship sometimes to watch marriages without love happen, but it was the way of their world and had been for centuries. "I will look for a new bride for our young Lord as soon as I am well."

Arthur smiled. He knew his mother liked pairing young people and that it was one of her greatest joys when the marriages she arranged became love-matches. She had done well with most of the couples she had put together, and he couldn't help thinking of his own wife, Lady Sibylle. He had barely known her when they married, but he couldn't imagine his life without her now, or their children.

"Is that all, Arthur?" Margaret questioned.

"Not quite," he replied. "I wanted to let you know that Lady Madeline informed us last night that she is with child again and Mathias and Grace will have a new sibling sometime in the late summer. Oh, and Prince William has written to you asking permission to begin writing to Queen Mary."

Margaret thought for a moment. 'Where had the years gone?' She smiled and looked at her son, "Write his highness and tell him that he has permission to write to his fiancée, but to keep it friendly until she is twelve. I do not want her head clouded with ideas of romance yet. She must learn to rule first, not only Scotland and someday England, but also herself. And ask his excellency, Lord George, to come to court for the Christmas festivities with his wife. I was to congratulate my granddaughter in person on her coming arrival."

"Yes, mother," Prince Arthur said.

"If that's all, I will rest now," Margaret stated, feeling the weakness from her illness take over.

Arthur nodded, bowed, and began to make his way towards the door.

"Arthur," she added, stopping her son from leaving, "if something should happen to me, please watch over your niece. Mary is Queen, but she is still so young."

"Nothing will happen to you mother," he turned towards her again and replied with confidence. "You will recover from this. The doctor said it was nothing serious."

"Arthur, she MUST marry Prince William for Scotland's future to be secure. Scotland and England MUST be united."

"Mother, you will be fine. Mary and William will be married and you will be there to see it happen. Stop talking nonsense."

Not wanting to continue the discussion, Margaret simply nodded. She had made her wishes known and Arthur would make certain that everything possible was done to carry them out if anything happened to her. Mary's future, Scotland's future, were the two most important things in her life, since her own children were married with families of their own. She knew that if she died, her son's widow, Marie de Guise, would tear apart the English alliance in favor of the French, but that couldn't happen . . . not with the unification being only a few years away. Margaret closed her eyes to sleep and dreamed of a future where her descendants ruled both Scotland and England, where she was the matriarch of a family line of great Kings and Queens, and she smiled in her sleep.


September 15, 1553

Royal Palace of Naples

Naples, Italy

King Alfonso and Queen Adriana were sitting on their respective thrones. For days now, The English Ambassador had been residing at their Court, trying to finalize a double betrothal. Alfonso had to admit that he was proud of his wife. Adriana had been a very good hostess to his guest. Now, the day had finally come where the ambassadors were to meet all six of their children. The one thing that Alfonso insisted on is that the children must all be over the age of sixteen when both weddings take place. Although he loved his wife, he was only fifteen years old when they married and he was a father by the end of the year. Now at the age of only thirty, his two oldest children were rapidly approaching adulthood, while he still had a baby in the cradle.

Suddenly, Charles Brandon, 2nd Duke of Suffolk, entered the room. He was in charge of finalizing the Betrothals and he was very excited about being in this foreign land, although he greatly missed his wife and their newborn son, little Henry Brandon.

He bowed to Alfonso and Adriana.

"Your Majesties, I thank you for your generous hospitality these past few days, however, with your permission, I would like to meet your blessed children, on who my sovereign, King Henry IX of England, has inquired about." he said, not trying to sound too demanding.

Queen Adriana smiled at the English Duke.

"Signor Brandon, if you will follow me, I'll show you to our children, with my husband's permission of course." she said, looking at Alfonso.

The King nodded his head, not breaking eye contact with Charles. Alfonso was considered as a young King in Christendom still and he didn't want other nobles from foreign lands to intimidate him.

Adriana stood from her Throne and walked down the few steps, to a doorway leading to the private Royal Apartments. She looked back at Charles.

"If you will follow me, Signor." she said.

Charles followed her. He also was trying to control himself. Since his wife hadn't been churched, he was not allowed to lay with her. He had a mistress in England, but it was purely physical and out of sight of his wife. He didn't even know the woman's name from memory. He was noticing the beautiful women of Queen Adriana's entourage. Some were Spanish and some were Neapolitan, but all beautiful and the Queen wasn't too bad herself. Because Italy had such a warmer climate than England, the women didn't cover their hair and wore less layers of clothing.

Before he knew it, Queen Adriana stopped and smiled. In a large room, there were six children lined up, ready to be presented. Their clothes proclaimed their status and also showed off the Neapolitan Royal Family's immense wealth.

Adriana stepped over to her eldest, a boy.

"This is my eldest son and our heir, Prince Giovanni, Crown Prince of Naples." she said.

At fourteen years old, Giovanni was extremely handsome. He had chestnut brown hair, hazel eyes and a olive complexion. Even though he was so young, he was known to have a very bad temper, believed to be inherited from his close parental pedigree. His paternal grandmother, Catalina of Austria, Dowager Queen of Naples, was the aunt of his mother. Despite his bad temper, he was extremely intelligent and was kind to most people, especially his siblings.

He stepped forward and nodded.

"Your Grace, welcome to Naples." he said.

Charles nodded. He was impressed by the young Prince.

Adriana walked to the second child, her eldest daughter.

"This is our eldest daughter, Princess Lucrezia." she said.

Lucrezia, although aged only twelve years old, was a remarkable beauty. She had long, curly dark reddish-brown hair, a fair complexion and was showing signs of being of a medium height.

Lucrezia curtsied.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Your Grace." she said.

Charles bowed his head.

Beside Princess Lucrezia, there stood a young girl that was about eight years old. She had brown hair, olive skin and light brown eyes. She hadn't grown into the beauty that her older sister possessed, but she was on her way.

Adriana put her hands on the girl's shoulder.

"This is our third child, Princess Maria." she said.

Charles smiled at the young Italian Princess.

Maria looked up at him.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Signor Brandon." she said.

Next, was a small brown-haired, blue eyed little fair-skinned little girl. She was six years old and was still very adorable, as she smiled at Charles, with her two front teeth missing.

Adriana kissed her forehead.

"This is our fourth child, Princess Angela." she said.

Little Angela cleared her smile and spoke to Charles, in Latin.

"I hope you like our Court, Signor Brandon." she said.

Charles was amazed at the children of Naples. They were all so polite and well-educated.

Adriana moved over to the next child: a little boy, who was three years of age. He had hair that was very dark and he had green eyes. He was tall for a toddler, but was also very shy.

Adriana bent down to reassure her youngest son that he would be just fine, before turning her attention to Charles again.

"This is our youngest son, Prince Alfonso." she said.

Charles could tell by the affection in her voice, that Queen Adriana loved all of her children, but this little boy was very special to her.

Finally, Adriana walked up to one of the nursemaids, who was holding a beautiful baby girl, who was about a year old. She was a very beautiful baby, with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

Adriana took the baby in her arms.

"This is our youngest child, Princess Isabella. I named her after my late aunt and godmother, Isabella of Austria and Spain, Queen of Denmark andy mighty great-grandmother, Isabella of Castile." she said, kissing her baby girl's chubby cheeks.

Charles couldn't help but smile at the infant little girl, who was barely older than his own son back in England.

At that moment, King Alfonso walked in, smiling at his children.

"You have all met Monsignor Brandon. Now, go back to your studies and Signora Beatrice, please put Prince Alfonso and Princess Isabella down to sleep." he said, gently.

The Nursemaid nodded her head and led the two youngest children to an adjoining room and closed the door, while the remaining four children returned to their studies.

Alfonso took Adriana's hand and looked at Charles.

"Now that you see our children for yourself, we can now conduct business." he said.

Charles nodded and followed the King and Queen to another room down the hall, where they all sat down.

Alfonso cleared his throat and looked at Charles.

"Now, what does King Henry propose?" he asked.

Charles pulled rolls of parchment out.

"My King proposes a double marital alliance with you, Your Majesty. You will have England's military support and England can depend on you for financial aid, should we ever need it. For your eldest son and heir, Prince Giovanni, King Henry offers his second born daughter, Princess Eleanor, as his bride. The Princess is currently ten years old, but after her sixteenth birthday, she will set sail, as the future Queen of Naples. For her dowry King Henry is prepared to pay sixty thousand pounds in two payments. One payment is here already and the second payment will be received upon Princess Eleanor's arrival to your Court." he said.

King Alfonso was impressed with the offer. He knew that Spain would always need some of his troops, especially since his family carried the Trastamara name and Queen Juana could easily overthrow him and claim the throne herself. The fact that he was married to her granddaughter and his mother was a Dowager Queen of Naples gave him some security, but everyone knew that King Alfonso feared his powerful Spanish grandmother.

He nodded his head.

"Very well. Now, since we have heard the King Henry's second son, Prince Edward, is not a marriage candidate, I am prepared to offer my second child and firstborn daughter, Princess Lucrezia, as a bride for his youngest son, Prince Owen, Duke of Buckingham. She is only two years younger than him and the marriage will take place at the same time that Giovanni and Princess Eleanor are married. So Princess Lucrezia will be about eighteen years old at the marriage. As for her dowry, I will pay fifty thousand pounds right now. Prince Owen will set sail for Naples with his sister, when she is sixteen years old and he will marry Lucrezia." he said.

Charles looked baffled.

"Just fifty thousand, Your Majesty? My King is paying sixty thousand for his daughter. Would you consider raising the price? Also, Prince Owen has a dukedom in England. Shouldn't Princess Lucrezia set sail for England, like so many other brides before her?" he asked.

Alfonso shook his head.

"Technically, Your Grace, I am paying more than your King. He's only paying thirty right now and I am paying fifty thousand, which will not put a dent in the Royal Treasury. Also, Prince Owen is a third born son. Had it been Prince Edward, I would have matched the price. Also, Prince Owen will have many opportunities to oversee his Dukedom, but his home will be here in Naples. He should be happy, with his sister a future Queen of Naples, his future seems bright. If your King cannot agree to these terms, I understand, though it will be ashamed to have another set of broken Betrothals this year." he said.

Charles looked at the young King, in amazement. He knew how to bargain and well. He knew that Harry wanted to agree to this alliance. Naples, although not a large Country, had vast amounts of wealth.

Charles looked at Alfonso.

"I believe my King will agree. I shall return to England immediately and we can finalize the Betrothals." he said

King Alfonso smiled and stood to his feet.

"Go with God, Signor and I will have my guards escort you and Lucrezia's dowry to the ship. I pray you a safe return to your Homeland." he said.

Charles smiled, bowed and departed the room, once again amazed at Naples' King.


September 18, 1553

Palace of Segovia

Segovia, Castile, Spain

Elizabeth was enjoying the wedding between Sancha Guerra of Portugal and the eldest son of the Duke of the Infantado, Carlos de Mendoza. Elizabeth had to admit that the wedding was beautiful and she had no problem blessing the union. Carlos de Mendoza was quite taken with his young, beautiful sixteen year old bride. Young Sancha Guerra was amazing at dancing and was a beautiful girl, with dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes and very fair skin.

Suddenly, Infanta Maria, Duchess of the Infantado and Carlos' mother, walked up to Elizabeth.

"It was a beautiful service, wasn't it cousin?" she asked.

Elizabeth nodded.

"It was. I'm just glad that Infanta Joanna of Portugal was able to afford her daughter's wedding. With us still at war with France, I want to make sure that the Treasury stays stocked as much as possible." she said.

Maria nodded her head.

"I shall be retiring to bed. Being pregnant is exhausting. I'm just glad that Carlos was able to enjoy his wedding day, despite his Father being at war. I hope Sancha can comfort him, until he returns." she said.

Elizabeth took Maria's hand.

"Cousin, before you go, please tell me about your daughter-in-law. I'm not familiar with the Guerra Family at all." she said.

Maria sat down.

"Well, from what I gather, The Guerra Family is a family of wealthy merchants. They have acquired a vast fortune with trading silk and other cloths to Asia. Sancha's mother, is Infanta Joanna, the Dowager Duchess of Trancoso and Dowager Countess of Miranda do Corvo. Her eldest son, Rodrigo is currently the Duke and the Count." she said.

Elizabeth looked at her cousin, in confusion.

"What happened to their father?" she asked.

Maria sighed.

"Lord Joham Guerra was lost at sea about three years ago. King Carlos had him declared legally dead six months after the accident and Rodrigo inherited the titles and married our cousin, Catherine of Austria, the daughter of my uncle Fernando and his wife, Anna of Bohemia and Hungary." she said.

Elizabeth made the sign of the Cross.

"Poor Sancha. It's dreadful to lose your parent and not be able to say goodbye. Who's the young man who accompanied her?" she asked.

Maria pointed at Martim, who was sitting nearby, watching his sister and her husband dance, while drinking a goblet of diluted wine.

"That's her brother, Martim Guerra. He's actually a personal guard to your sister, the Queen of Portugal." she said.

Elizabeth nodded.

"He looks strong. At least I know my sister is in good hands." she said.

Across the room, Martim was watching his younger sister grace the floor with her new husband. He was proud of her and prayed that she would have a wonderful marriage. He also was imagining his beloved Theresa dancing at their own wedding.

Suddenly, Sancha walked over to her brother.

"Martim, come dance with me." she said.

Martim shook his head.

"No, sister. I have a long journey ahead of me tomorrow. I return to Lisbon in the morning. Are you happy, my dear sister?" he asked.

Sancha nodded.

"I am. Carlos has been nothing, but kind. Please thank Mamãe and our uncle, the King for giving me this grand marriage. I hope I give him a son next year." she said.

Martim smiled.

"I'm sure you will." he said.

Sancha looked at him, curiously and smiled.

"Martim, who is the lady who has stolen your heart?" she asked.

Martim turned bright red.

"How did you know?" he asked.

Sancha touched his shoulder.

"Because I know you. You aren't like our older brother who doesn't show his emotions. Now, tell me the truth." she demanded.

Martim sighed.

"Her name is Theresa. She's a lady-in-waiting to our sister, Rosaria, the Grand Duchess of Tuscany. She is the most beautiful and kind woman I've ever known. I want to marry her and show her true love, until my dying day." he said.

Sancha kissed his cheek.

"I hope you find happiness with her, dear brother. I'm going to retire for the night. I will see you before you depart tomorrow. I love you." she said, as she walked back to her husband and they left to their bedchamber.

Martim smiled.

"I love you too, little sister." he said.


September 21, 1553

Royal Château de Saint- Germain-en-Laye

France

Henri," Catherine began again, "it's a good match! She is a Princess of Naples and her family has money. What more could we want for Francis?" Catherine was desperate for this alliance. Not only would it mean that she would have another Italian permanently at court, but her son, her first born, would finally have a better understanding of the roots that ran deep on his mother's side of the family, and because Princess Angela of Naples was not the first-born daughter, she would be left to Catherine's guidance when Francis married the girl. Catherine could finally have the ally against French politics that she wanted, and would no longer be alone in court.

"I do not want to see Francis married to an Italian princess, Catherine, and that's final. France needs the security of a strong nation to stand up to the Spanish, not a country that the Spanish relic holds in her pocket, like Naples," King Henri replied, as his advisors piled into the room. "Besides, there is a chance that I might be able to arrange a more profitable marriage for our young Dauphin with Portugal or even England, if I play this right. King Henry IX can hardly turn his sword in our direction if one of his daughter's sits on the throne of France."

"But you withdrew the betrothal of Francis to Princess Eleanor," Catherine reminded him. "How can you possibly go back and reassert our alliance with them when that very alliance was rejected?"

"I cannot possibly expect you to understand," Henri said, "but England will jump at the chance to reinstate that alliance if all goes according to my plans." He could see the look of defeat in Catherine's eyes and couldn't help but feel for her. "However, I may be willing to consider the Naples match with Charles."

Queen Catherine looked around at the men and at Diane, her husband's mistress, and knew she was not going to win this argument, not right now. Politics was one realm that she knew could not be controlled by women, no matter how much she wanted to have a say in her son's bride. Not wanting to anger Henri further and risk his stubbornness setting in, she quietly turned and left the room.

Diane looked at Henri and stepped closer to him so the men could not hear her words. "Henri, my love, perhaps this match should be considered. If the Princess marries your son, Naples could hardly stand against you even if Juana demands their help. They wouldn't risk alienating their own daughter, not even for the last surviving daughter of the Catholic Monarchs."

Henri looked at Diane. He knew she had France's best interests at heart. He could always trust that, regardless of what his courtiers said. Why couldn't Catherine show the same understanding and compassion for France, his nation, as she did her own interests? When their marriage began, he had such hopes of finding the caring nature he adored in Diane in his new bride, but it just wasn't there. He thought if he waited a while for her to come to understand more about being a Queen that maybe he would grow to love her as he did Diane, and he would have a confident his own age to talk to. However, his relationship with Catherine was scarred by something that he couldn't quite put his finger on and she never would discuss. The caring he saw in Diane just now was what he had always hoped for with his wife, but it was not to be. He began to reconsider the Naples alliance and then realized that his nobles were waiting.

This was not something that he could think about until after this meeting was over. The war was raging and France was losing more and more men by the day. Marriages for his children had to be delayed until the scenario in front of him had played out entirely, otherwise, there might not be a France left for his sons to rule. Shifting his glance back to Diane, he mouthed the word "Later" to her, and she curtsied before leaving the room, as he turned his attention back to the matters at hand.


24 September 1553

Castile, Spain

Estate of the late Marquess of Moya

The Royal carriage stopped outside of the estate of the late Marquess of Moya, Andres de Cabrera. Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor and co-ruler of Castile and Aragon, sighed with a heavy heart. He knew that Isabella deserved to hear of her husband's death from family, but he did not look forward to the task. In previous years, Isabella had been out of control and done things that were beneath her station as a royal Princess, and he was concerned how she would handle the news.

He looked to the seat across from him where his granddaughter-in-law was napping. He had requested that she accompany him because he had no idea what to expect. Elizabeth was nothing like Isabella, despite the two being sisters. He hoped that the Princess of Asturias could weld some influence over Isabella and convince her to act as her station demands in this situation. Charles was not an unfeeling ruler; he knew that the woman would be filled with grief and in private, she would be allowed to express that grief, but her public persona had to remain dignified. "Elizabeth, my dear," he said gently touching her arm, "we have arrived."

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked around her. "Yes, of course."

Charles exited the carriage and held his hand out for Elizabeth to take. She stepped down and looked at her sister's home, dread filling her heart. Isabella had been through so much in her life. This tragedy was not going to sit well with the eldest daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon, but Elizabeth knew she was here to help her sister remember what protocol demanded.

Isabella was waiting in the drawing room of her home as Charles and Elizabeth were announced. She stood and curtsied upon their entrance to the room, then embraced her sister before allowing Charles to kiss her hand, as custom dictated. "Elizabeth, Your Majesty, what an honor to welcome you both to our home."

"The honor is ours dear Isabella," Elizabeth replied.

"What brings you here this day?" Isabella questioned, referring to their unexpected visit.

"Please, sit down, Isabella," Charles commanded gently. Isabella did as she was told, not wanting to anger the Holy Roman Emperor. "As you know, we are engaged with a vicious war with the French and have lost a number of soldiers due to the spies and guerrilla tactics." Isabella nodded, she had received letters from Andres telling her that the French were not fighting a gentleman's war. "Several weeks ago," Charles continued, "we were engaged in a serious of skirmishes along the border regions of France and Navarre when one of our companies was almost entirely destroyed by these tactics. The Infante Juan, my son, was injured, though not fatally, that God."

Isabella gasped at this news, and although she was relieved that Juan was spared, she knew that Andres was in the same company as Juan. "And Andres, your majesty?" She questioned. "Is there any news of my husband?"

Charles nodded and began again. "His lordship heroically fought off the French valiantly and stood his ground while the others tried to escape. Juan made it out of the forest they were in because of you husband and we owe you a great debt because of that. However, . . . " Charles' voice trailed off.
"Sister," Elizabeth said, looking at her grandfather-in-law, "According to what was reported, Andres took an arrow in his shoulder and his reaction to the injury caused him to turn his back on the enemy. The French were able to shoot him twice more, in the back and in his head. Andres fell, but tried to crawl to a nearby fallen log, according to Juan, but was then hit through his neck, and he bled to death from that wound."

Isabella looked at her sister, hoping this was some cruel joke for her past transgressions. 'Yes,' she thought for a brief moment, 'they are teaching me a lesson.' But when neither Elizabeth nor the Emperor looked away, she realized that her husband, her beloved Andres, was really gone and she was now, once again a widow with young children to look after. Her tears fell silently down her face as she clasped her hand to her mouth, stifling a scream of despair.

Elizabeth moved to sit next to her sister and drew Isabella into a hug. She looked at Charles. This was not the reaction that either of them expected from Isabella and they were uncertain what to do.

Several moments passed before Isabella spoke. "Where . . . where is he now? His body, I mean. I am sure his soul is with God," Isabella questioned, crossing herself.

Charles cleared his throat and replied to the younger woman, "At the palace in the state room at the moment," he informed her. "Queen Juana has declared that Andres died a hero and shall receive not only the burial fitting of a nobleman, but also will be granted the honors of being buried in the royal crypt as befitting a soldier who died in protection of the family. There will be no expense spared for him, my lady."

Isabella looked at the Emperor, clearly understanding the double meaning of his words, and nodded. She would be allowed to grieve her husband with all emotion fitting their relationship in private, but in public, she was to compose herself and honor her husband the way the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon would. They would see her and his children as his legacy, and Isabella knew that if she played the public part that was expected of her, she would want for nothing.

"Pardon me for asking this at such a time, your Majesty, but what will happen to my children?" Isabella asked. She knew that Andres children', as Lords of the realm, would have to be placed under the guardianship of a male member of his family or under that of the royal family, since Isabella was herself born a Princess of England. "I know the guardianship of my sons must pass to a male family member, but will they be taken from me?"

Elizabeth took Isabella's hands in her own. "Dearest sister, if you agree, Luis will act as guardian for your sons and they can and will remain with you, provided that public outbursts are avoided and you presented yourself in public as a grieving noble woman should."

Isabella sighed with relief. "Of course I agree sister. I would be honored to have the Prince of Asturias as their guardian. And you have no cause to worry. Although my heart is breaking as we speak, I will do nothing to sully the name of my late husband. He was one of the few people who I believed actually loved me in my lifetime, and who put me first. I will honor him in his death and will remain as composed as possible in public, but you will both have to forgive me if I spend my nights away from the public eye crying for the fact that he is no longer with me. He wasn't just my husband; he was half of my heart, and now it is shattered."

Elizabeth let her own tears flow for the grief her sister must be feeling. She'd heard horror stories behind shut doors of how Isabella behaved in the past with various situations, and was now wondering if they were exaggerated. The woman before her now was not crazy, and was not acting as though she had no control. The Isabella before her was behaving as a true daughter of the late Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England; grief stricken, but stronger for it.


28 September 1553
A battlefield on the Navarre border with France

The pain in his arm was quite numbing, yet hurt worse than anything he'd ever felt in his life, though that wasn't saying much. An Infante of Aragon and Castile didn't have much of a reason to be in situations where pain like this would be necessary to feel, unless, of course, a war ensued, like the one currently being fought with the French. Juan cringed and lay back on his cot, remembering how he got the wound.

It was certainly not the heroic act that he would like to tell people when explaining what happened. At least he was still alive. The Marquess of Moya entered his thoughts as the scene replayed in his mind. He had watched Andres hold of more than seven armed men as their troops escaped through the trees to safety before being hit in the arm. He'd turned his arm in pain only to take more shots in the back and then one hit him in the head. Juan had watched helplessly as Andres fell to his knees, dodging another arrow, only to be hit in the neck with an arrow that pierced all the way through to the other side. Juan heard him say "Isabella" as he fell to the ground and took his last breath. Juan was awakened from his thoughts by a noise at the door to his tent.

Queen Juana entered just in time to see her grandson wipe tears from his eyes. She knew he was reliving what occurred on the battlefield. She had seen her mother and father do this many times; they would silently cry for those who were lost to them. Perhaps Juan had inherited some of his great-grandparents after all.

"Juan," the old woman started as she sat by his bed, "how are you feeling, mi hijo?"

"As well as I can under the circumstances I suppose," he replied. "I can't believe that Andres is gone. He was such a loyal companion. He always watched out for the younger men in the company too, despite some of them being hotheads."

Juana nodded. She had long known that the Marquess of Moya was a special young man, especially after he married her disruption of a niece, Isabella, and had managed to keep her calm for years now. It took someone with a will of iron to handle that girl, the aged queen was certain of that fact.

"He has been taken back to the palace and will lie in state for a time, while we tell Isabella and the children of what happened. Your father has already ridden out to inform her of the news and has probably arrived. We can only hope she behaves herself at a time like this," Juana worried that the younger woman would cause a scene.

"Surely not," Juan replied. "She wouldn't do that after she learns he died a hero. No decent wife would."

"Juan, Isabella has had some . . . problems in the past. These problems caused a great deal of scandal for my sister and her husband, as well as for King Henry IX," Juana stated, not wanting to destroy Isabella all over again, but wanting her grandson to understand her concern. "I worry that her anger will get the better of her now that Andres is gone."

"Grandmother," Juan said, "Would you be sure that she is told that the last word he spoke was her name? I think he would want her to know that. When he was on his knees, before the end came, he said one word 'Isabella'."

Juana nodded. "I will make sure she is informed. I think that might comfort her a little in her time of trial." The old woman turned her back as if to leave, but then returned to her grandson's bed and hugged him closely. "Do not ever forget dear one, you are loved very much, despite your indiscretions of the past."

"I know Grandmother," Juan replied, wondering what prompted this reaction from her.

"On that note, there is another matter I wish to address with you," the Queen continued. "Your marriage is approaching. Soon you will meet the girl you have waited so long to marry. She is young, Juan, and expects her marriage to be filled with love, like any young girl. You need to be sensitive to that, and you need to be faithful to her, unlike so many of the men in our family, your late grandfather included."

"But . . . " Juan started to counter his grandmother, who stood her ground and shook her head.

"I understand that you men seem to think that it is your right to bed any woman that catches your eye, dear one, but you need to understand what it does to a woman's soul when the man she is entrusted to does not respect her enough to lay with other women. There is something inside of a lady that is destroyed when she discovers her husband's infidelity. This cannot be repaired or mended and despite the idea that has been passed on for generations that women will somehow get over it, we never do. I can promise you that from experience," the Queen lectured. "Unless you want to spend every night for the rest of your life looking into your wife's eyes and knowing that you have destroyed her faith in you, I would strongly suggest that the lust for other women become more controlled. I do not say this to you to reprimand you for your actions to this point in your life, but to warn you against continuing those actions after your marriage."

Juan thought for a moment, taking in what his grandmother had said. "Yes, grandmother," the Infante replied. "I will do my best to make sure she never loses that trust in me."

"That is all I can ask of you, dear one." Juana hugged her grandson close and kissed his forehead before rising from the edge of his bedside to leave. "I hope the coming days see you fully recovered from this injury. I thank God every night that you were spared the fate that befell our beloved Marquess."

"Thank you, Grandmother," Juan said. "I will rest now."

"Of course." And with that, Juana turned to leave his tent so he could sleep. She hoped with all that was in her that he would take her words to heart, but in case he didn't, she hoped that the young Infanta he was to marry could endure the pain that he would put her through and be able to overcome it.


Windsor Palace

Queen Anne of England's Bedchamber

Anne was having her hair brushed by one of her maids. Lately, Anne had been very self-conscious about her appearance. After six pregnancies and not much chance to exercise like her husband, her figure had slightly thickened. She wasn't obese, but she was no longer the slim German Princess that arrived in England twenty-two years ago. Her brown hair had also lost its shine. Despite being younger than her husband, she was aging more rapidly than he was. Even being intimate with Harry was hard. She refused to take her nightgown off, even though Harry loved being nude during their intimate moments.

Suddenly, Harry walked in, holding a letter.

He kissed Anne on her cheek.

"Sweetheart, I have a letter from your brother. He wants a betrothal with someone here in England for his son and heir." he said.

Anne signaled for her maid to stop tending to her and leave the room. Once the maid left, Anne turned her attention back to Harry.

"What do you think? Maybe we could offer our little Margaret to him." she suggested.

Harry shook his head.

"No. We need a dispensation and and your brother allows Heresy in his domains. Pope Julius would never allow it." he said.

Anne nodded her head. She knew that William mainly held the Catholic Faith because of their late mother, but she knew that his heart had a great deal of sympathy toward Lutheranism. She began to think about how both sides would be pleased.

She looked up at Harry.

"What about your sister, Isabella's daughter, Lady Catalina? That way my brother has his alliance and won't have to go through the Church, since Gerhart and Catalina aren't closely related." she said.

Harry smiled.

"I shall write your brother and see how he feels." he said.

Anne gave a small smile.

"Do you think Isabella will have any objections to this betrothal?" she asked.

Harry shook his head.

"No and even if she did, I care not. This marriage is good for little Catalina. She's eighth in line for the Throne, which means that she'll never have a Title. At least with this marriage, she'll have status somewhere."he said.

Anne nodded her head and stood up to walk to her bed.

"I'm sure my brother will be pleased." she said.

Harry smirked at Anne and began to kiss her neck.

"As of this moment, the only one I want pleased is you." he said seductively.

Anne shook her head.

"Harry, not tonight. I'm very tired. I'll see you in the morning." she said.

Harry looked at Anne, with disappointment. He had not been intimate with her in nearly a month and he wondered why, as he kissed her and left for his own bedchamber.

Once Harry left, Anne gently touched her stomach, as a dull pain overcame her. Just as she was about to call for help, the pain was suddenly gone. Deciding that it wasn't an issue, Anne fell into a peaceful sleep.


October 6, 1553

Palacio de las Duenas

Seville, Castile, Spain

Elizabeth was once again on a carriage ride with her uncle/grandfather-in-law. However, now this time they were heading towards the home of the Duke of Alba, the husband of Elizabeth's mother-in-law, Catalina, to inform her that a marriage had been decided for her daughter, the Infanta Juana.

Elizabeth looked at Charles.

"Are we sure about this betrothal, Cousin Charles? Juana is very happy with her mother. She already feels second best to her brother, my husband." she said.

Charles nodded his head.

"It is absolutely good for her. Karl of Ascania, Prince of Anhalt-Zerbst not much older than her and he is also healthy. We have to make many alliances and right now, she is third in line to the Throne, after Luis and your daughter, Isabel. God forbid Luis dies in battle and little Isabel dies in childhood, Juana needs to have a suitable husband as her consort. And even if all goes to plan and Luis survives, that way you can bear a son, Juana will still have wealth and a title." he said.

Elizabeth nodded her head. It made her sad that she was going to have to watch her husband's only full sister marry some German Prince in a small principality. She hoped that her talk would do some good.

Finally, the pulled into the Courtyard. Suddenly, an attractive woman in her late thirties walked out of the residence. She was of medium height, she had had light chestnut brown hair, fair skin and was dressed in a dark blue gown. This was Catalina, the Duchess of Alba and Luis's mother.

As Elizabeth and Charles were helped out of the carriage, Catalina bowed to Charles.

"Your Majesty." she said.

Charles kissed her hand.

"My dear daughter-in-law. I trust that you are well?" he asked.

Catalina nodded her head and smiled at Elizabeth.

"My darling daughter, I am most pleased to see you. How are you and how is my precious granddaughter?" she asked.

Elizabeth smiled.

"She and I are both fine. It is tough being the Regent of castile and Aragon, but I am doing my best." she said.

Catalina gestured toward her door.

"Please come in and rest for awhile. I'm sure Juana will want to see you." she said.

Charles and Elizabeth walked into the home and walked into the parlor. It was very cool in the house, despite the summer heat outside.

Charles and Elizabeth had a seat.

"Catalina, I am going to get straight to the point of our visit. This is not a social call. I have come to inform you that a a marriage had been selected for Juana" he said.

Catalina sighed.

"I knew this was going to come. When is she supposed to leave?" Catalina asked.

Charles looked at his former daughter-in-law, with pity. He could hear the pain in her voice.

"She will leave in the New Year. She will be expected at Court in exactly one month. You may come to Court and say your farewell at that time as well." he said.

Catalina nodded her head and walked to a window, where she saw four out of her five children. After her first husband, Infante Phillip of Spain, died, she was left a widow with two children and was wondering what her life was going to be, as the mother of two potential heirs to Spain. A couple of years after Phillip's death, Queen Juana arranged her marriage to Cristoforo Madruzzo, the future Duke of Alba. Now, Catalina had three small children: Lady Angela, who was six years old, Lord Juan-Carlos Madruzzo, the Duke of Huescar and future Duke of Alba, aged three and little Lady Ysabel, who was still an infant.

Elizabeth stood up and walked over to her mother-in-law.

"Do not fear, My Lady. I will watch over Juana. She will not want for anything in Court." she said.

Catalina looked at Elizabeth and Charles.

"My oldest son is away at war and now my eldest daughter will be ripped from my arms. These are the times that I hate being a Royal widow. I will talk to Juana tonight. Will you be needing any rooms tonight?" she asked.

Charles shook his head.

"No, we must hurry back to Court. I must return to the front." he said.

Catalina bowed and began to leave the room. Before she was gone, she turned to Elizabeth.

"Sweet daughter, be sure to love your children. You never know how precious they are, until they are ripped away from your arms." she said and turned to leave.

Elizabeth put her head down, but hid her true emotions, because she knew that one day, her own daughter would be married off and Elizabeth may not see her again.


October 17, 1553

Stockholm Palace, Stockholm, Sweden

Princess Matilda of Sweden's Private Chambers

Matilda was excited. She had just discovered that she was pregnant again. She had consulted a midwife, after feeling noticing her menses had stopped for three months and she felt a knot in her belly. She was due to be brought to childbed in April. She was hoping to have a second son. She was planning on telling Eric at dinner, but she decided to tell him now.

She looked at her chief lady-in-waiting, Lady Sofia.

"I am going to see the Prince. You don't need to follow me." she said.

Matilda then left her chambers and headed towards her husband's private suite of rooms. She was happy and content in Sweden. She was happy to be expecting her third child and her twins were not even a year old. She also knew that she was in love with Eric. He had been nothing, but kind to her and she couldn't help but love him.

Finally, she made it to Eric's rooms and the guard outside stopped her.

Matilda looked at him, in confusion.

"Sir, I'm the Princess of Sweden. Please stand aside. I wish to see the Prince." she said.

Suddenly, she could hear sexual noises coming from inside the room and she knew why she wasn't permitted to enter. Although she knew that Eric had intercourse with other women, she never caught or heard him in the act. She didn't have to deal with that embarrassment. Before she let tears consume her, she composed herself and looked at the Guard.

"Please tell Prince Eric to join me for dinner tonight. I have something to tell him." she said.

The Guard nodded, as Matilda turned to leave.


October 21, 1553

Palace of Lisbon, Lisbon, Portugal

Infante Duarte, Prince of Portugal 's Bedchamber

He had been dreaming. He couldn't remember what about, but he knew it was a good dream; one that made him wake with a smile on his face. He also couldn't recall what had woken him up, but something had because his dream had not come to a close as they usually did.

The door to his room opened and his page entered briefly. "Your Highness, His Majesty, the King has arrived and wishes to speak with you." The young man stood aside as his father entered the room and then departed, closing the door behind him.

"Good morning, my son," King Carlos said, as he walked to the bed and sat down. Duarte was his only living son and heir to the throne, but he knew it was important if his father had come to see him this early in the morning.

"Good morning Father," the young prince replied, yawning away the remaining bits of his restful night.

"I will get right to the point," Carlos stated in a half-kingly, half-fatherly type of manner that he often took with his son when they were alone. "Your mother and I feel that it is time that your informal betrothal to the Infanta Maria be announced and be made formal."

"What? No! Father, I don't think. . . " Duarte began.

"Son, it is well past the time that this should have happened. Don't worry, your actual marriage is a few years away yet, unlike your sister, who will be married after Christmas tide," the King said, trying to ease his young son.

"It's not that Father. You told have already told me what my duties are as a husband and I can accept that," responded Duarte. "It's just that. . ."

"That?"

"I do not want to marry a girl I do not know or care for, like you care for Mother. I want to know my bride-to-be before I marry her. I understand that I must marry her, even if I do not like or love her, despite my own desires, but why has she not been summoned to the palace already? Is there something wrong with her Father?"

"No, my son," Carlos said, as he reached over to tussle his son's messy hair. "She is, from what I understand, a very beautiful and intelligent girl. Your mother and I simply have not summoned her because she is very dear to her mother and we did not want her ripped away from her home while her step-father is at war. We did this out of kindness to her mother, your Aunt."

Duarte thought for a moment. This explanation did not shock him. His parents were both kind and generous to others and taught himself and his siblings to be as well. "Can she come here once her step-father has returned?"

"I will write to your Aunt immediately and begin the process of having the Infanta moved to the palace, though I will specifically state that the move won't happen until her step-father has returned."

"Thank you, Father," Duarte replied. "I looked forward to getting to know the Infanta Maria, my future wife." He added that last statement to show his father that he had accepted the girl as his fiancée. He hoped the words were not lost on the King as his father exited the bedroom. Duarte thought about his future for a moment, and then began to ready himself for the day.


November 4, 1553

Alcazar of Segovia, Segovia, Castile, Spain

The Throne Room

Elizabeth was sitting on the Throne, dressed in complete black. Earlier in the day, her cousin, Infanta Maria, Duchess of the Infantado, the eldest daughter of Charles V, died after suffering a miscarriage and bleeding to death. Elizabeth was completely shocked and it really hurt her, because she was the one who had to send the letter to the Borders and inform The Emperor of his daughter's death.

Suddenly, Carlos de Mendoza walked in, with his new bride, Sancha of Portugal. Elizabeth had to admit that young Portuguese woman was growing on her.

Both of the teenagers bowed to Elizabeth.

she stood up and walked toward them. She looked directly at Carlos whose eyes were bloodshot red and puffy, from excessive crying after hearing about his mother's untimely death.

Elizabeth sighed.

"I am so sorry about the death of your beloved mother. However, I can assure you that she is seated next to our Lord." she said, with kindness.

Carlos nodded his head.

"Thank you, Alteza." he said.

Elizabeth looked at young Sancha Guerra. The girl was just sixteen years old, was miles away from her family and now had to comfort a husband she was still getting to know after a family tragedy and still the young lady didn't break.

Elizabeth turned back to the Throne.

"I called you both here on. a personal family matter. Carlos, you know that you are the eldest of your parents' children. With your mother no longer with us and your father still in battle, you and Sancha need to be there for your younger siblings. They are young and need guidance during these troubling times. I know your heart is broken, but I need you both to be strong for the children." she said.

Carlos, always a sweet and sensitive young man, began to tear up at the memory of his mother and the possibility that he could lose his father as well.

Sancha looked at her husband and looked at Elizabeth.

"We will, Alteza. We will be strong for them. I promise it will not be an issue at all." she said.

Elizabeth smiled. Her respect for the young lady had just increased more.

"Thank you both. You are dismissed." she said.

With that, the two teenagers left Elizabeth's presence.


November 30, 1553

Spanish/French Border

Castle of Xavier, Javier, Navarre,

Queen Juana was triumphant. She and her army had actually managed to seize one of the castles in Navarre. She was happy, since winter was fast approaching and she knew that her army couldn't survive the winter without shelter and resources. She smiled and sat down. The past few weeks had been very exhausting on her. Now aged seventy-four years old, she knew that this War was draining her. However, she was not going to let her troops and all of Spain down. Navarre was rightfully hers.

Charles walked in, on his walking stick and smiled.

"We did it, Mother. We aren't far from Pamplona. Maybe once we strengthen and rest, we can take the capital city." he said.

Juana smiled.

"That is the plan. Where are the boys? They are part of this victory." she said.

Before Charles could answer, Juan and Luis walked in, wearing smiled of pride on their faces. They had led both of their companies on the siege of this Palace and had done so without losing any of their men.

Juan was especially proud. He was twenty-three years old and was catching the attention of most young women he met. He was even traveling with a mistress now, who was from somewhere near Catalonia, but he couldn't tell you where if you asked him. He never bothered with trivial details when it came to the women he would later discard."

"On the other hand, Luis was a valiant fighter and he relished in the fact that if they pulled off a victory and the current capital fell, Navarre would be his

Both young men bowed to their Queen and to Charles, before embracing them as family. It was protocol and it was demanded, regardless of their familial relationships. They had barely been in the room for five minutes before the royal messenger came in with correspondence from home. Everything was deposited on the oak table in the center of the room and the man left as quickly as he had entered.

Queen Juana sat at the head of the table, looking at the pile of letters and scrolls before her. She reached for the one closest to her and looked at it. "Luis, this is yours from Elizabeth." Her great-grandson all but ran over to where she sat, eager for word from his wife. Juana smiled at his actions. 'To be young and in love again' the older woman thought to herself, recalling such reactions when Philip had written her so many years ago. She took a moment to look at her son, Charles, before returning to the mail. She had about half of the letters sorted, with the largest stack being for the soldiers under their command, before she reached one that gave her chills. It was a letter to her from Elizabeth. This would contain either extremely good news from home, or the opposite. The opposite was most likely, and it was what the Queen feared. Juana broke the seal and read her great-granddaughter-in-law's words. . .

'To her Royal Highness, Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon from the acting Regent of those lands, Elizabeth.

Your Majesty, it is with much regret that I inform you of the passing of her highness, Lady Maria, Duchess of the Infantado. She was delivered of her child, who also passed with her, as her time came much too early. Her husband has not been informed as of yet. I thought it would be better coming from you, as I have never met his Lordship.

With much love and deepest regret,
Elizabeth'

The aged Queen looked at her son, and then returned her gaze back to the letter. Her hand began to tremble. Infanta Maria was the fourth of Charles and Mary's children to proceed Charles in death.

Charles watched his mother carefully, and seeing the intensity of his father's face, Juan did the same. Juana stood from her seat with the letter firmly grasped in her hand, fighting back the tears that had swollen up in her eyes. "Mi hijo," she began, and then paused. She felt her knees give way underneath her, and she felt Juan's arms around her less than a heartbeat later. "Abuela," he started, but she raised her hand to stop his words.

In that moment, Charles knew. He realized that one of his remaining daughters had died. The only question in his mind was which one. Juan, his only surviving son, was alive, with him, in this ancient castle in Navarre, so it had to be one of his girls. Lilliana, his youngest, was safe with Elizabeth, and her passing would have provoked a different reaction from his mother. . . one of terror instead of sadness. That left the Queen Adriana of Naples, Infanta Maria who was Duchess of the Infantado, and Infanta Isabella Archduchess of Austria. With only a second thought to the situation, Charles knew. His beloved Maria was expecting a child. Something must have happened.

"Mother?" Charles said, "Is it Maria?"

"Yes, hijo," Juana replied. "God has saw fit to call her to his side, and her child as well."

Juan looked from his grandmother to his father, unable to believe what he was hearing. Here it was that another sibling was gone; another child that his father had to bury. He looked at the floor. Would this be his life with Catarina? Would he also watch his children pass away as his father had done for many years now, starting with his elder brother, Infante Luis in 1526?

Charles stood, with an eerie calmness that made Juan tremble. He clutched the table in front of him for support and then walked outside. Luis started after him, but Juana waved her great-grandson back. "He needs time Luis," she said. "Time and prayers." Luis and Juan both nodded and let Charles go.


December 7, 1553

Palace of Lisbon, Lisbon, Portugal

Infanta Catarina of Portugal's Bedchamber

Catarina was reading one if her books at her desk. She had dismissed her maids for the evening, because she wanted to be alone. In just four weeks, she would be departing from her home and marry Infante Juan. So many things terrified her about marriage and it wasn't until recently she came to terms with it.

While she was reading, she didn't hear her mother enter the room. Mary was so proud and amazed by her eldest child. Catarina had blossomed into a very beautiful young woman, now aged sixteen years old. Her long hair was down her back and was a deep jet black, her beautiful skin was peaches and cream, she was of medium height, and had very beautiful sea-blue eyes that she inherited from her grandmother and namesake, the late Katherine of Aragon.

Mary walked over to her daughter and rested her hand on her shoulder. Catarina turned around, startled, but relaxed when she discovered it was just her mother.

Mary smiled at her sixteen year old child.

"I didn't mean to startle you, darling. I'm surprised that you are still awake. is something on your mind?" she asked.

Catarina closed her book and walked over to her bed and sat down.

"Mamãe, I have never been scared of anything in my life. Fear is something I try not to carry into myself, but I have to admit this. I am terrified about marrying Infante Juan. He's seven years older than me and I know he has lain with other women in his past. What if I don't please him? I know that a marriage like you and Father's is very rare, but how do I find happiness with a man I don't even know?" she asked.

Mary sighed and sat next to her daughter.

"Sweetheart, I cannot promise that your marriage will be happy, just like my mother couldn't promise me. However, one thing that I can say is that you will find happiness. You'll find happiness in your children. No matter what the marriage is like, your children will be a blessing from the Lord. Also, go into your marriage being kind to Juan. You must make him see the value in all of you, not just your beauty, which is going to fade over time. You are intelligent, kind and dutiful. Even if Juan doesn't grow to love you, I am sure he will respect you and maybe even grow fond of you." she said, as she caressed her daughter's beautiful face.

Catarina smiled and hugged her mother.

"Thank you so much. I feel better. I love you, Mamãe." she said.

Mary kissed her cheek.

"I love you too, my darling." she said.


December 15, 1553

Hampton Court Palace

Charles Brandon, 2nd Duke of Suffolk's Bedchamber

Charles and Mary Brandon had just arrived to Court for the Christmas holidays and everyone was in high spirits. The double alliance with Naples had finally been finalized and was announced to the Court.

Charles walked up to his wife and kissed her.

"How does it feel to be back at Court, sweetheart?" he asked.

Mary smiled.

"It feels amazing. Christmas at Court has always been beautiful. However, I do miss our little Hal." she said.

Charles smiled. Their first child and son, little Lord Henry Brandon, affectionately known as Half to his parents, was only four months old and they didn't want to risk bringing him to Court in the cold winter winds. He remained at Westhorpe Hall with a newly hired wet nurse.

Suddenly, Catherine Grey walked in to the room. Charles smiled at his older sister and hugged her.

"Sister, I didn't know you were coming to Court. How are you?" he asked.

Catherine smiled.

"I'm actually well. I have a title in my own right and more importantly, Jane will be married next year." she said.

Charles and Mary were surprised. Due to the fact that Jane's father was executed just four months ago for treason, no one in all of England seemed to want their son to marry the innocent sixteen year old girl.

Mary smiled.

"That's wonderful, Catherine. Who is she betrothed to?" she asked.

Catherine turned to her sister-in-law.

"The young man is Lord Duncan Stuart of Scotland. He is a grandson to our aunt, Dowager Queen Margaret. He is Jane's age and she will be be just right for him." she said.

Charles smiled.

"I'm glad you found a husband for her. I wish her nothing but the best." he said.

Catherine nodded and smiled. The year had been exhausting and her life had drastically changed, but for the first time in over twenty years, she was genuinely happy.


December 20, 1553

Spanish-French Border

Castle of Xavier, Javier, Navarre

Queen Juana was sitting on a Throne, waiting for Charles, so they could address the troops together. Ever since Infanta Maria's death, Charles had been very melancholy and was even standing out in the rain last night. Maria's husband, Lord Diego Mendoza, was also grieving, but he put his grief into fighting.

Finally, after waiting for awhile, Juana looked at her troops and began to speak:

"My faithful noblemen, there is a reason we are here. We are here because we have one common goal: We wish to reclaim what is rightfully ours. Unfortunately, it has not been a simple task. These damned Frenchmen have had possession of these lands for many years. The time has come to reclaim what was stolen from us. As I stand before you today, I envy all of you. I would love to join you all, my faithful and noble men, into battle. However, the good Lord saw it fit to make me into a feeble and weak woman. There is one thing that we have in common: We both desire to send these French dogs back to their own pitiful lands, never to return again!" she said.

The soldiers, which included Juan and Luis, shouted in agreement with their Queen.

Juana continued her speech.

"I love each of you with the same love that the Holy Mother of God had for Christ: the simple, but powerful love of a mother. As we ride into battle, think of your mothers, your sisters, your daughters and granddaughters. Poor women, who need you. I will not stand before you and say that each of you will return home. However, if you perish, the poor women will be at peace, because they will not be subjects to that French bastard, Henri! With God on our side and the spirits of the mighty Catholic Monarchs with us, we will drive those demons back to their pits of Hell!" she exclaimed, as she held a sword in the air.

Suddenly, one of the soldiers cried out:

"Long live Queen Juana and Emperor Charles!"

The rest of the soldiers called out the same thing, while Luis and Juan smiled, in pride at the matriarch in their family. They knew that she was a powerful woman, but this just confirmed everything they knew.

All of the troops returned to their posts, but Juana held Luis and Juan behind.

"Juan, where is your father? He knew that we had to address the troops today." she said.

Before Juan could answer, Charles walked in, wearing all black and almost leaning his complete body weight on his cane. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. It was obvious to everyone that the death of his eldest daughter had hit the Emperor very hard.

Juana walked up to her son.

"Mi hijo, where were you? We were meant to address the troops today. I know Maria's death has devastated you, but your duties as King cannot be put on hold..." she said.

It was at that moment, that she noticed Charles was sweating profusely and looked very pale.

Juana became concerned for her son.

"Mi hijo, are you well?" she asked.

Luis and Juan walked up to Charles. Luis placed a hand to his grandfather's forehead.

He looked at at Juana.

"He is burning with fever." he said.

Suddenly, Charles collapsed and was caught by Juan, before his body could hit the stone floor.

Juan was startled.

"FATHER!" he cried, as he held his unconscious father.

Luis ran down the corridor to fetch a physician. Queen Juana, despite her age, knelt down next to her son, took him from Juan and cradled his unresponsive body, as if he were a small child instead of a man of fifty-three years.

She began to tear up.

"Don't leave me, Carlos. Don't make me bury another child." she said in a desperate voice


Several hours later

Emperor Charles V, King of Spain's Bedchamber

Queen Juana sat near her son and refused to leave his side. Charles was dangerously ill. He was burning with fever and was convulsing slightly. Juana held his hand and prayed silently to God for him to spare her precious son. The physician had bled Charles, hoping to bring down his temperature. So far, it had not worked.

Juan and Luis walked up to Juana. Juan had fear in his eyes. He had lost his mother when he was only nine years old and now he could be potentially losing his father.

Luis sat next to Queen Juana.

"How is he?" he asked her gently.

Juana sighed.

"The physician says that the fever hasn't gone down. We have to figure out how to get his temperature down or...we could lose him." she said.

Luis looked at his ailing grandfather, in disbelief. There was no way that this powerful man could die.

Juana stood up and faced Luis.

"Luis, I am having you placed under guard. God forbid if...he dies, You will become King. We need to keep you safe." she said.

Luis wanted to argue with his great-grandmother, but a look from Juan made him hold his tongue. Now was not the time to argue with her.

He sighed.

"Please just tell me when he awakes and is condition is better." he said.

Juana nodded her head, as guards walked up and began to escort Luis to his chambers, where he would remain.

Juana sat back near Charles, while Juan stood behind her.

Juana sighed.

"Juan, I am going to be honest with you. There are few things in this life that I fear, but I cant bear the pain of losing another child. I already lost my beloved Isabella almost thirty years. To lose my son, I will surely not survive it. He has always been by my side. I cant bear to lose him." she said.

Juan walked to the praying altar and began to silently pray, while Juana prayed by her son's side.


December 24, 1553

Juana had not left her son's side in four days and his condition had remained the same. The entire Army was also praying for their ill King.

The physician walked up to Juana. He didn't want to bring her bad news, but he also couldn't lie to his Queen.

Juana stood up and faced the physician.

"What is it? Why isn't he getting better?" she asked firmly.

The physician sighed.

"Majestad, I've done everything I can for the Emperor. He's in God's hands now. If he doesn't fight the fever and wake up by morning, I'm afraid the Emperor will not survive."

Juana tried her best to compose herself. These were the words she had been dreading to hear.

Despite her pain Juana looked at her son, as he sweated and slightly shook. Juana sighed and turned to one of her guards.

"Bring Infante Juan to these , find a priest." she commanded.

The guard bowed and departed from the room.

Juana looked at the physician.

"Do everything you can to make my son comfortable." she said.

The physician nodded and began to tend to Charles. Juana walked over to the altar that was in the room and began to pray for the life of her son.


December 25, 1553

Juana had been praying all night. She prayed as the priest gave her son the Last Rites. She prayed as Juan broke down, begging his father not to leave him. She prayed, as her maids begged her to eat and retire to bed. She prayed as she heard her son convulse. Juana didn't want to look at her son. Her daughter, Isabella, died in her presence. Juana refused to watch another one of her children die.

It was now Christmas morning and the sun was shining brightly in the room. For the last few hours, Juana didn't hear anything from Charles. He hadn't had a convulsing episode and she couldn't hear his raspy breathing. She was now sure that her son was dead now. As she let the tears fall from her eyes, she thought it was a cruel joke that on the day that the Holy Mother had welcomed the Son of God, she had now lost her son.

Suddenly, she heard a weak voice behind her call out:

"Mother..."

Juana turned around and to her shock, Charles was awake, with his hand slightly elevated, wanting her to come close.

Juana walked over to her sin, crying tears of joy. She grabbed his hand and pressed her hand to his forehead and was relieved that his fever had finally gone away.

Juana kissed his cheek.

"Mi hijo, I was afraid I had lost you. Thank the Lord that you will not leave me." she said.

Charles weakly smiled at his mother.

"Not this time, Mother. However, I know that I am getting older. I think I need to think about my duties and decide what I shall do." he said.

Juana looked at her son, in confusion, but didn't really care about what he was saying. The important thing was that he was well again. Not only did she still have her son, but once he was recovered, God will give them Navarre once again.

Charles looked at his mother.

"Mother, I need to speak to Juan. Bring me my son." he said.

Juana looked at one of the attendants, giving the order.

A few minutes later, Juan walked in, with a look on a relief.

"Father, you're alive! I was afraid we were going to lose you." he said.

Charles smiled.

"I'm still here, my son. However, I think it is time you face something that you have been avoiding. It is time for you to return to Castile and marry Infanta Catarina of Portugal. She will be departing any day now. There is no more room for delay or excuses." he said.

Juan shook his head.

"No, Father. I refuse to just return to Castile, until we have driven the French out." he said.

Despite being weak, Charles sat up and looked at his defiant.

"You are going to take one hundred soldiers, you are going to go in a litter and you will return to Segovia and marry the Infanta and I am not telling you this as your father, but as your King!" he said, before he lost his strength and fell back against his pillow.

Juana rushed to her son's side and gave Juan a look, telling him to no longer argue with his father and to just do as he was told.

Juan knew he had to get married, but he wasn't comfortable with leaving the battlefield just to marry some Portuguese Infanta, who was only bringing more wealth to his family. However, as his father had nearly died, due to grief over his poor sister's death. Maybe his father would recover knowing that all of children were out of danger.

Juan nodded his head, bowed and departed from his father's rooms, to prepare for his journey back to Castile for his wedding.


December 31, 1553

Alcazar of Segovia, Segovia, Castile

Infanta Elizabeth, Princess of Asturias and Regent of Spain's Bedchamber

Elizabeth was in a sound sleep, one if the few she actually got to have ever since becoming regent. She was exhausted and was ready for the war with France to be over, so that she and Luis could be a family again, with their little daughter.

*Dream Sequence*

Elizabeth was standing in a white gown and was surrounded by white. She was confused and had no idea where she was.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" she asked around her, seeing if she was alone.

Suddenly, she head someone approaching her and before she knew it, she was face-to-face with her late mother, Katherine of Aragon.

Elizabeth stared in disbelief.

"Mother? Is that really you?" she asked.

Katherine smiled at her youngest child.

"Yes, Mi Hija. It is me. Oh, how I have missed you." she said.

Elizabeth began to tear up. The last time she had seen her mother was nearly four years ago and her mother was at deaths door. Now to see her so vibrant and healthy again was making her happy.

"I've missed you too, Mother. However, why am I here? Have I died?" she asked.

Katherine shook her head.

"No, darling. You are very much alive. I had to tell you how much I am proud of you. You are young in years, but you are governing my homeland in the midst of a terrible war. I cannot be more proud of my child." she said.

Elizabeth smiled.

"I just do what I feel is necessary for the better outcome. The people always compare me to my grandmother, your mother." she said.

Katherine touched her daughter's face.

"You remind me of my mother, but I pray you don't go through the heartaches my mother did. My darling Eliza, you are destined for greatness. Spain will know your name for eternity. Keep your strong spirit and be a model for temperance and virtue. You must also be strong. Do not let the world destroy you." she said.

Elizabeth didn't understand her mother, saying she was destined for greatness, when she was only going to be the Queen of Spain by marriage. Her only duty is to provide heirs. However, she never wanted to let down her mother.

"Mother, no matter where God places me in my life, I will do nothing but glorify his name and have him as the head of my life" she said.

Katherine smiled.

"I love you, my Elizabeth." she said.

Elizabeth awoke with a start and looked around her, searching for her mother. She then realized she was only dreaming. She had tears fall down her face, because she greatly missed her mother and her guidance. However, despite it being in her dream, was she truly destined for greatness?

A/N Finally! It is done. 1553 is finally over! I am so happy to finally be in a new year in my story because I have so many ideas to write and I hope you all will love them. If you all have any questions, don't hesitate to PM me and ask. chapter 33 is currently being worked on and I think you all will love it 😊 Please Read and Review and chapter 33 will be up soon.