Chapter 44

Well, this is the chapter that to me is probably going to be somewhat sad. We will be saying goodbye to a Queen, who in my opinion, would have been great had the men in her life had let her. I wrote Queen Juana to be a strong Queen and now she has died with more dignity and prestige than she was offered in life. I hope that everyone loved how i wrote her character in this story. This story has a long way to go and it pains me not to write about Queen Juana. This scene will cover alot more than just her funeral. We will see many interactions in this Chapter. Please Read and Review and enjoy Chapter 44!

29 April 1555
Granada, Spain

The journey had been a long and tedious trek from the convent where she took her final breath to the great and luxurious palace at Alhambra, where her mother also lay in eternal slumber. It was her wish that she be laid to rest here, where her mother's greatest achievements had occurred. She had wanted a simple funeral, but that was not destined to happen. When her son had written His Holiness concerning her death, the Pope conceded to the request of presiding over her funeral himself but insisted that she be given the proper state funeral befitting her station, and that funeral was to include most of the monarchs of Europe, as well as some of the nobility.

Her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren had been arriving in Grenada since they received word of her death and the palace had been made ready for the enormous number of attendees that had arrived as well, the latest arriving just last night with the court of Scotland. Today, they would gather in the church to hear her funeral mass, and immediately after, they would return here to the palace for her farewell feast, which had been her specific request. After the feast was over, they would all gather in the courtyard to say goodbye to the last surviving child of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile; Queen Juana of Aragon and Castile, who, with her death performed her final service to the kingdoms left by her parents; the unification of the two nations under one single ruler, her son, King Charles V of Spain, Holy Roman Emperor.

Charles was sitting alone in his chambers preparing for the day when there was a sudden knock at his door. He looked at the window. It was not even morning. He wondered who it could be at this hour. "Enter," he said and rose to face his guest.

The double doors swung open and the aged woman walked silently and slowly into his rooms, accompanied by guards he did not recognize. She glanced at him with caution. He returned her gaze. He did not know this woman, but he could tell she was royal by her mannerisms. He bowed to her first, though he was not certain she was a monarch, and she smiled.

"There is no need for that nonsense," she commanded. "I am Margaret, Dowager Queen of Scotland, formerly Princess Margaret Tudor of England, your Majesty."

He couldn't believe that he was standing there looking at the woman who single handedly had saved his Aunt Katherine, and all of England, by using her own allowance from her Scottish husband to pay the second part of a dowry promised by his late grandfather, but never received. The entire Tudor line owed this woman a great debt. If it were not for her, Katherine of Aragon would have remained the Dowager Princess of Wales and the current King would have never been born, Portugal's would not now have a Queen Mary, and Navarre would not have a Queen Elizabeth.

Charles returned her smile, upon learning who she was, and kissed her hand. "Your Grace," he said, "England, Portugal, and Navarre owe you more than you will ever know."

"Ah yes," Margaret replied, "the dowry of your late aunt. I fondly recall the letter Katherine sent me after her marriage to my brother, thanking me with all her heart for assisting her with her endeavor and raising her from the pitiful financial straight that the men in her life had left her."

Charles listened as the older woman shared the memory with him. He loved to hear stories of the past, even now, when he was aged himself. "She told my mother what you did for her."

Margaret smiled again. "Yes, your mother," she replied. "I came here at this hour, knowing you would be awake, but I must ask you to forgive the intrusion into your private thoughts."

"Not at all, your Grace," he said, motioning to a chair in the corner for the woman.

Margaret just shook her head. "I will not stay long, but I wanted to share something with you that your late Aunt told me many years ago when my husband had died, and I was a new widow. She said, "Even though you are a Queen, you were also a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, and more importantly, a human being. Though we are taught from birth not to show our emotions, we still have them." Margaret paused for a moment, looked at Charles and continued, "Even though you are a King and an Emperor, you are also a son, a husband, a father, a grandfather, a brother, and more importantly, a human being. Though we are taught from birth not to show our emotions, Charles, we still have them. Today, I give you permission to be a human being and nothing else, if you so desire."

Charles looked at the old woman and let her words sink in. It took a moment, but he felt the tears swell in his eyes and let them silently fall down his face. It was amazing that this woman, who before she entered his room was nothing more than a name, could allow him to freely feel the pain of losing his mother. She simply nodded at him, acknowledging his tears, and turned to leave. As she did, he whispered, "Thank you."

Margaret turned her head and looked at him once more, nodding again, and left the room as quickly as she had entered it, leaving the Emperor to be just a human being for once in his life and grieve for his mother for the first time since her death.


The five surviving children of the late Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon gathered in the inner courtyard of the Alhambra Palace. They had come to bid their mother farewell in private before the funeral began where every monarch in Europe who was Catholic would be in attendance. The turn out for the somber event was amazing, regardless of the orders issued by His Holiness. There were royals from nearly every nation in Europe, and even those who were not Catholic had sent their Ambassadors, as was the typical custom for when a reigning monarch died.

Their mother was lying in state in the garden for the next hour, before being moved to the Church where masses would be heard, and the funeral would be presided over by the Pope. It was under Charles' orders that this extra transition would occur, as he believed that her children needed to say goodbye to their mother in private prior to facing the rest of the world while grieving for their mother's loss. The new Spanish King looked at his brother and sisters, recalling their times as children, long before they had married and started their adult lives. He could see that his sisters were crying, all except Eleanor, Dowager Queen of France. She was the eldest and knew that her place was to hold the family together now. She would never allow her emotions to be seen, not even by her siblings. Charles knew that later, once the funeral and feast was over, in the privacy of her chambers, she would break down and cry for their mother like no one else could.

Maria and Catalina were holding either others hand's and tears were streaming down their faces. Maria, who had spent most of her adult life along, having lost her husband at a very young age, was still as beautiful as the day she had left home to marry the King of Hungary and Bohemia. She could have been thought to be her own daughter, instead of the fifty-year-old Dowager Queen. Catalina, their youngest sibling and the child who was born after their father's death, was the Dowager Queen of Naples, and at forty-eight, was one of the most desired widows in Europe. She would never remarry, having fallen in love with her husband almost from the moment they met. She, too, had experienced a happy life in Naples with her family.

Ferdinand kept a solid look on his face. How he looked like their father, who had died long ago. Charles recalled how much their mother loved their father, despite his many mistresses, but it was his father's actions who had shaped both Charles and Ferdinand into the faithful husbands' they became when it was their time to start families with their wives. Watching as their mother's heart broke repeatedly reminded them that women were not simply in their lives for bearing children, as their father had believed, but were people who deserved to be respected. Though they had both wished their mother had not been hurt so much, they also knew that her pain had made them better men and better husbands, and she would not have changed that fact, even if she could.

Their sisters went together to stand at the side of their mother's casket and say their goodbyes, each helping the other two, as they often did. There was no doubt that the children of the late Queen Juana were united in all things but seeing this brought the realization that they now had only each other home to Charles. The women stood, and Eleanor looked behind her, nodding, as they left the courtyard to return to their separate chambers until the funeral procession began. Ferdinand then approached Queen Juana's casket and knelt, as his sisters had done before him, and a few moments later, he had also left the courtyard, leaving Charles alone with their mother.

Charles went to her casket and knelt, crossing himself, and then felt the tears flow from his eyes as he laid his head gently against the side of the wooden box holding his mother's earthly remains. He stayed there for several minutes before being interrupted by a light noise in the passages on the other side of the courtyard walls. Looking up, he saw his granddaughter-in-law and niece, Queen Elizabeth of Navarre, standing in the center opening and looking quite embarrassed at having intruded on his privacy.

Charles, still on his knees, held out his hand to her and bid her to come to him. The twenty-one-year-old walked to the casket, taking his hand, and then knelt beside her husband's grandfather before crossing herself. "Forgive my intrusion, your Majesty," the young woman began. "Luis told me that she was here, and I wanted to say goodbye to her before we had to face everyone."

"There is nothing to forgive," Charles replied. "She loved you, Elizabeth, as much as any daughter she had of her own body. She saw her beloved sister in you, and though she could do nothing to help Aunt Katherine when Prince Arthur had died, she wanted to somehow make it up to her by helping you find your way and become the Queen you were destined to be. Know that she went to her eternal rest proud of the woman you had become."

Elizabeth couldn't keep the tears from falling as he said that to her. "I was always afraid of letting her down," she admitted. "I didn't want to fail her. I don't want to fail her now."

Charles turned to his granddaughter-in-law and squeezed her hand. "She wanted nothing more than to return to Navarre and see your son, her great-great grandson; the future of Spain she called him when she found out he was born early and survived. She was so proud of you, and Luis, of course." He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, much as her father had done when she was a child and he was actually being a father to her. Charles stayed there on his knees with Elizabeth as she cried.

When her tears had dried, he released her, and she stood, helping him to rise as well. "Thank you, Grandfather," Elizabeth said. "I needed to grieve for her. She was very much so like a grandmother to me, since I never knew my own, and I consider this family every bit as much mine as Luis does."

"I know, darling girl," he said, wiping her final tear from her cheek. "After today is over, before you return to Navarre, come to my chambers. There is something that Mother wanted you specifically to have."

Elizabeth nodded and pressed her hand to her lips, kissing it, before placing it on Queen Juana's casket, and then turned to leave. At the doorway, she looked back, but Charles had already left. Elizabeth returned to her chambers, contemplating what the late Queen would have left her over her own daughters as she watched the sun move from the horizon of the morning sky to a higher position, announcing that morning had come at last.


The funeral procession of Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon was unusual by every standard that was held dear among royal families across the Catholic faith. First, her coffin was adorned with black velvet instead of the traditional purple. The symbols of her nation and house were no where to be found, as she belonged to the world, according to the Pope. Second, her sons, King Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, and Prince Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria, carried their mother's coffin on their shoulders, along with her great-grandson, King Luis of Navarre, her nephews, King Carlos of Portugal and King Henry of England, and her grandson, Prince Juan, Duke of Franco. They led the way from the Alhambra to the church where her funeral mass would be performed by His Holiness, followed by a mass gathering of monarchs and nobles from around the globe.

Immediately behind her casket, Juana's three surviving daughters could be seen holding hands with each other, all three Dowager Queens. Then followed the Infanta Maria, Duchess of Viseu, Dowager Queen Eleanor's only daughter, and her husband, Prince John Oldenburg, Duke of Vendome, along with their children. Queen Elizabeth I of Navarre was behind them, accompanied by her brother's children, Prince Edward, Prince Owen, and Princess Eleanor. Their cousin, the Infanta Catarina, Duchess of Franco, walked with them, along with her younger sister, the Infanta Joana. Elizabeth and Catarina both had multiple members of their families carrying the late Queen to her funeral mass. Prince Ferdinand's children and grandchildren followed the Tudors and the Royal children of Portugal.

Next in the procession were the Catholic Kings and Queens of Europe, accompanied by their children, and then came the non-Catholic monarchs, the Princes and Princesses, and finally, the other members of the nobility from various nations who had decided to attend of their own accord.

Upon reaching the church, the casket bearers of the late Queen placed her coffin upon the marble table, just beneath the cross. They knelt in unison and crossed themselves, then rose and went to be seated in the chairs provided on either side of the casket. The church, typically dressed in a deep red and gold, had been altered with cloth of black, and the window shutters had been closed for extra protection, since the majority of European royalty were in attendance. Guards lined the walls, ready to break up any altercation that might occur, on orders from the Pope. This was what the mourners who had gathered to say goodbye to Queen Juana saw as they entered the church, along with the sight of the Pope, himself, knelt before the cross, praying.

The people filed into the church one or two at a time, each being checked for weapons of any type by the guards outside. When they entered, two bishops stood on either side of the doorway, telling people to sit wherever they felt like, as today, they were all children of God and nothing more, and much to the surprise of many, monarchs of nations who were not on the friendliest of terms took this statement to heart and sat beside each other to say goodbye to the late Queen.


Marcellus II and his chosen cardinals knelt in front of the casket of Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon. They crossed themselves and then rose to face the entourage of Catholic monarchs that had gathered on his orders to attend her funeral. He sprinkled her casket with Holy Water and placed the pall over it, which he, himself, had anointed. He then turned to those who had gathered and held up his hands.

"Holy Lord, almighty and eternal God, hear our prayers for your servant, Juana, whom you have summoned from our side and to your own. Forgive her sins and failings and grant her a place of refreshment, light, and peace. Let her pass unharmed from the gates of death, to dwell with the blessed in light, as you promised Abraham and his children forever. Accept Juana into your safekeeping, and on the day of judgement, raise her up with all the saints to inherit your eternal kingdom. Amen," he prayed. The congregation crossed themselves as he took his place at the pulpit.

The scriptures of the old Testament were read, and the Psalms, then the Pope introduced Charles and invited him to speak to the crowd. Charles stood and made his way to the pulpit of the church, climbing the stairs and then looking into the faces of the crowd. He had addressed groups of people on many occasions, so the feeling shouldn't have been one of uncertainty, but this time, it was just that. He was nervous. He didn't realize how much he had relied on his mother's support until just now, but when the wave of anxiety hit him, it was an instant realization. However, he was the son of this great woman and had to do her proud, even today, when his heart was breaking for the loss of his mother.

"Forgive me if I seem unsteady," he said, more towards the coffin than the congregation that had gathered. "It is hard to walk in the shadow of a great ruler, but harder still to walk in the shadow of a great person. My mother was both. She wasn't perfect, and at times, people called her mad, but she always had a reason for what she was doing, even if it made sense to no one else." Those in the crowd who knew what he was referring to personally chuckled under their breath at his remark.

"My mother was born in Toledo to not one, but two reigning monarchs; Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile. The union of these two great world leaders created one of the greatest alliances that the world had, and maybe still has, ever seen. She was raised with her siblings, who have all since passed into eternal glory, wherever their parents deemed it necessary to be. It was rare to see Isabella of Castile without her children somewhere nearby, and my mother was the same way when it came to how she raised myself and my siblings. Many did not agree with her methods, but the six of us never doubted for a moment that our mother loved us.

Even as a young Queen, she never doubted herself, at least not publicly. Those of us who knew her as family saw the flicker of indecision at times, but those situations were quickly covered with her intellect and faith that God would lead her in the right direction. Haste was not one of her friends. There is not a person alive today who could say with complete honesty that they saw Juana of Castile act without logic, though some doubted that she had emotions at times. I recall an instance as a young man, right after my marriage, that my mother was sitting with one of her advisors discussing a situation concerning the man's daughter and her lack of a husband. The man pressed my mother for advice about what to do, and my mother responded, "For the sake of all that's Holy, would you give me time to think?" The man sat in silence for quite some time, and though it was noon when they originally met, the sun had long set before she answered him. It was, thereafter, a joke among us children that if you wanted to ask mother a question it was best to do it before breakfast, so you had an answer by the time you went to sleep that night."

Charles looked at the crowd in the church and saw that they were all earnestly listening to what he was saying. He glanced at his siblings, then at Queen Elizabeth of Navarre. She was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. Charles continued.

"Throughout her life, she knew loss, even from an early age. She was four when her mother gave birth to her younger sister, my Aunt Maria, in 1482, but what many do not know is that Maria was a twin. The Infanta Anna of Castile was born first of the pair but lived only a few short hours before God called her to His side. My mother only spoke of the incident once in my lifetime, at least in my presence, and recounted the funeral of the baby girl they would never know, saying that although they all understood that God had called their sister home, they all felt a loss that would follow them throughout their lives to come. When her elder sister died, then her brother, the Infante Juan, her life changed drastically, as she knew she would inherit the throne of Castile but had not been prepared to rule as a Queen regent. Her education was quickly expanded by her mother, and in the two short years that my mother spent under the tutelage of my grandmother, Queen Isabella, she learned more about leading a nation than most monarchs would learn after a lifetime of experience.

Her first few years as Queen were filled with turmoil, as she stood against her father, asserting her right to rule Castile against his disbelief that his wife was gone, and he no longer held the power that the Castilian alliance brought with it. Eventually, they reconciled, and Ferdinand helped her through the loss of my father in 1506, allowing her to grieve his death, while Castile was being cared for, without worry that a takeover would happen. It was during this time that my mother earned the title of "Juana la Loca", though we all became aware quickly that the title was not justified. She was simply a ruling Queen grieving for a husband that she loved and adored, despite his indiscretions.

Throughout her reign, my mother watched her children marry, have children of their own, die, and live their lives to the best of their abilities. She watched her descendants grow into capable rulers and loving parents. Today, those who are part of this legacy sit on the thrones of Europe trying to keep the peace while maintaining order throughout the Christian world. Her death," Charles paused to catch his breath," her death is a loss that is not only felt by our family, but by the world, and her life will always be remembered by those who loved her and those who admired her, as well as those who hated the power she wielded as a female monarch in a male dominated world."

Charles looked at the crowd that had gathered one last time from the pulpit, then walked down the steps leading to it. He stopped at his mother's casket, kissed it and crossed himself before returning to his place with his siblings in the pews of the church.

Pope Marcellus II offered another prayer for Queen Juana's soul, then introduced King Henri II of France, to the shock of everyone in the building. Henri rose, stopping by her coffin and crossing himself, then took his place to address the congregation.

"I know it comes with some surprise that I would be standing here, so shortly after being at war with this woman and with Spain, to eulogize her life, but such was the life of this woman who had reigned over Castile before I was born in 1519. I remember as a child hearing my father curse her and wondering why he would say such things of a woman. I did not then understand the power that came along with the name of Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon.

In our youth, we often make mistakes, and do not see things as clearly as we do when we are older. As a child, I was traded to Spain, along with my older brother, to secure the release of my father, the late King Francis I. We were locked away in a cell for years, unable to play outside, though the torment of seeing the outdoors occurred daily through the singular window in our room. I wondered who would be so cruel as to keep a child prisoner and never allow them the freedom of seeing the sky or feeling the sun on their face. I was told that Queen Juana was the one who had ordered this, and I hated her for keeping me locked up. As I grew into a man, that hatred continued, along with the resentment my father felt for having to pay our ransoms to a nation that was already wealthy; one that did not need more money. I was taught to hate Spain and all that was Spanish, and that included its reigning Queen.

However, the recent war with Spain and my negotiations with Queen Juana left me with more information about this woman than I had ever known. During the talks to bring about peace between our countries, I saw her struggle to do the right thing morally, along with the right thing for her country, as any monarch would do. I watched as she was told that her great-granddaughter-in-law, Queen Elizabeth of Navarre, had reached her time to deliver and that they baby was early, possibly too early to survive," Henri looked at Elizabeth, who seemed shocked that Juana had been told about her condition during negotiations with the French King. "The look of concern on her face was more than that of a monarch awaiting the birth of an heir; it was of a mother, grandmother, and caregiver for her family. It was also one of a woman who was determined that should this baby survive, it would grow in a land where peace was abundant. She thought of things like that when it came to her family and considered their futures in every action during our negotiations." At his words, Elizabeth's tears freely fell down her cheeks, despite being a Queen. She did not care who saw her at this moment. She was a niece and great-granddaughter-in-law of this woman, and the late Queen's loving actions touched Elizabeth beyond words.

"Women are supposed to be the gentler sex; bringing grace and virtue into the lives of we harsh male leaders. Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon did just that, but she also was one of the world's most intelligent women, which is something we men rarely choose to admit, despite the truth, but it is a truth that I will admit here and now. Today, we gather to say goodbye to a loving matriarch, a devout Catholic, and a generous woman, but we also say goodbye to a strong, intelligent ruler, who did not know what it meant to be weak, despite the reality of her sex."

Henri left the pulpit and knelt at Juana's casket, kissing it and crossing himself again. There wasn't a dry eye in the church by the time he sat down with his children. Francis looked at his father with awe. At this moment, he was proud to be the Crown Prince of France, with a father who was able to admit his own misgivings were mistaken.

The Pope then stood and delivered his address to the congregation concerning death and the afterlife, as well as the glory that the Lord had waiting for the late Queen. After his closing statements, he prayed, then dismissed the congregation. The sun had been hidden by the clouds of the day, and the gloom that had followed Juana into the church lifted as they carried her out into the streets once more. Those who had brought the Queen's casket to the church carried it out again and back to the Alhambra, where she would rest for eternity beside her mother, as the sun announced itself once again and lit the world with its brilliance.


After the casket of Queen Juana of Castile had arrived back at the palace of the Alhambra, it was placed in the throne room with the doors left open for those who wanted to say a private goodbye to the late Queen. The coffin which held her remains would be buried by her children and grandchildren the following morning.

Those who had gathered to say goodbye to the late Queen of Castile and Aragon returned to their chambers for a few hours to prepare for the feast that would happen that night in celebration of Queen Juana's return to her Lord's side in Heaven, for which, no expense had been spared.


Dowager Queen Margaret of Scotland looked at the other guests seated around the room. She saw her sons and their wives, along with the grandchildren who had accompanied their parents to Grenada. Her eldest surviving son, Prince Arthur, was talking with a younger man that she did not recognize at first, but when he turned around, she gasped. He looked exactly like her late brother, King Henry VIII of England, but with several of Katherine's features. This had to be her nephew, King Henry IX of England, father of Prince William to whom her granddaughter, Queen Mary of Scotland was betrothed. Margaret rose from her chair and walked over to where the two men stood talking.

Prince Arthur turned and kissed her hand as she approached. "Mother," he said, "King Henry and I were just discussing you."

"Were you now, m'boy?" Margaret replied, looking at her nephew with some intensity. "So, you are my brother's son?" She held out her hand for Henry to kiss.

"Yes, your Grace," Harry replied, kissing the older woman's hand. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, your Grace."

"Aunt Margaret is fine," she responded. Margaret had so few family members left that she saw no reason for the younger man not to address her as such, at least in private.

"Aunt Margaret," Harry repeated. "Where is the beautiful young Queen of your fair nation? I would like to meet my future daughter, if I may?"

"She's in her rooms still," Margaret replied. "I am sure she will be along shortly. Has our young Prince of Wales accompanied you to Grenada, Harry?"

"No, Aunt Margaret," he said. "I left Prince William in England with his mother, Queen Anne. The Queen was not feeling well, and her physicians advised that she not travel at this time, and someone had to see to the welfare of England. I made him co-regent with his mother in my absence."

"As you should," Margaret agreed. "As you should."

"What of your children, other that my cousin, here?" King Henry inquired, looking around the room for more of the Scottish red-heads. "Are they here as well?"

"Yes, they are here somewhere," Margaret responded, looking around herself to try and find the rest of her family. "Mingling, I suppose."

Harry chuckled at that, not noticing the young woman approaching him from behind, who immediately put her hands over his eyes, despite the fact that she had to stand on her toes to reach them.

"Guess who?" the female demanded.

"I'd know that voice anywhere," Harry said, wriggling out of her grasp and turning around to lift his baby sister into an embrace. "Elizabeth!"

Queen Elizabeth of Navarre took her place at her brother's side once he had put her down and asked, "How are you brother?"

"Well, thank you, your Majesty," King Henry answered. "May I present our Aunt Margaret, Dowager Queen of Scotland. Aunt Margaret, this is my youngest legitimate sister, Queen Elizabeth of Navarre."

Elizabeth curtsied to the older woman first, then Margaret returned the gesture, as much as her health would permit.

"It is an honor to finally meet you in person, your Grace," Elizabeth said.

"Aunt Margaret is fine, Elizabeth," the Dowager Queen responded.

Elizabeth nodded to her Aunt's request. She preferred the familial titles herself over the royal ones.

Just then, they were interrupted by the tapping of the herald's staff. "His Majesty, King Henri II of France, and the royal children of France, Prince Francis, Princess Elisabeth, and Princess Claude." The royal family of France stepped into the room to the greeting of bows and curtsies. The King walked over to the Duke of Guise immediately and began talking with him. Margaret scoffed at the sight, causing Henry and Elizabeth to look at each other.

Margaret glanced at her niece and nephew, shrugging her shoulders. "What?" she questioned. "I may have spent the majority of my life in Scotland, but I am still the daughter of Henry VII of England. I scoff at anything the French do."

Henry and Elizabeth chuckled at their Aunt's admission, and the three turned back to the crowd, watching the actions of the other guests.


Queen Mary of Scotland was introduced to the French Princesses, Elisabeth and Claude, as well as the second daughter of King Carlos and Queen Mary of Portugal, the Infanta Joana. The Princesses were all about her age and her grandmother had given no objection to her mingling with other royal girls who could become Queens once they were of age. No doubt Margaret thought it would be diplomatic of her to associate with them, which is the only reason Margaret had allowed the young Scottish Queen to leave her side.

"Now that Elisabeth is betrothed to the Duke of York," Princess Claude said, "Father will surely turn his attention to my future husband."

"I think you will find that Father is looking for a bride for Francis, Claude," Elisabeth corrected her younger sister, as Claude bunched up her face.

The girls' attention was diverted from the conversation as a handsome young man walked past them, wearing a crown. "Who is that?" Joanna asked her new comrades.

"That is the King of Cyprus, King Janius," Princess Elisabeth informed them. Though she had never met the young ruler, her mother had told her what to look for. Catherine de Medici may not have been able to attend the funeral of the late Queen Juana, due to her confinement, but she had made sure her eldest daughter was well informed. "Mother hopes to catch his attention for Claude, but I believe father wants Claude married into the de Guise family as a matter of keeping them happy."

"I will NOT marry a de Guise," Claude said, rather stubbornly. "Besides, King Janius is rather handsome, isn't he? And I wouldn't mind being a Queen, even if I had to live so far from France. What do you think, your Majesty?"

Queen Mary's attention was brought back to the circle of young ladies that she was standing with from across the room. King Janius held no interest for her, as he obviously did the others in the group. "Pardon?" the young Queen said.

"I was asking your opinion on the King of Cyprus," Claude said. "You were obviously somewhere else." Claude followed the direction of Mary's lingering gaze to the spot where her brother Francis was standing with the Duke of York and two young men that Claude did not know. "Which of the eligible young bachelors across the room had your attention your Majesty?"

Mary felt the blush form in her cheeks. "Oh, it was nothing of the sort," Mary said. "I was simply lost in my own thoughts upon seeing my betrothed's brother, the Duke of York. I have been engaged since I was a babe. I have no leniency to look at other men."

The Princesses all nodded at Mary's statement, only half believing her. Something had caught her eye across the room, and it was not the idea of Prince William of England becoming her husband.


Marie de Guise, the Dowager Queen of Scotland, was standing near a wall, glaring at her former mother-in-law, Margaret. The older woman had been nothing more than a thorn in Marie's side since the passing of her husband, the late King James V, when their only child was six days old. That child had been crowned Queen within days of her birth, and Margaret, not Marie, had been proclaimed regent by the Scottish Royal council, despite Marie being the Queen mother and widow to the late King. Marie had also been slighted in the raising of her only child, Queen Mary. Margaret had taken over from the day Mary was crowned, often insisting that Marie was housed in other palaces, away from Mary's household. This was not a slight that Marie appreciated, nor was it one that would ever be forgotten by the middle-aged woman.

Marie turned her attention briefly to where her daughter stood with some other young ladies who Marie did not recognize, save for Princess Elisabeth of France. She saw Mary smiling and laughing, as any young royal girl should be doing, regardless of the somber occasion that had gathered the unlikely crowed in the same place. Margaret had made sure that Queen Mary already had the social graces to be a ruling Queen, and the young girl, despite her youth, knew better than to let the laughter of the group get out of control. Marie's attention turned to the King of France, Henri II, who was conversing with the King of Portugal. To accomplish her goals, she would need to speak with Henri at some point, but how to get his attention without drawing attention to herself at this point was something she was still considering. Marie was lost in thought on this matter when a middle-aged man approached her, and her attention was diverted. She smiled sincerely at him and kissed both of his cheeks.

"Francis, my beloved brother," Marie acknowledged the man, "it is wonderful to see you again!"

"I know that look Marie," he replied, returning her greeting. "You are up to something."

"How ever did you guess?"

"I know you sister. That was the same look you had when the ambassadors approached you about marriage to the late King of Scots," Francis de Guise replied. "You saw opportunity then, and you are seeing it now."

"I want my daughter to have the best future possible," Marie replied. "What's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing, sister, depending on how you plan to make whatever you believe that future to be happen."

"That has yet to be determined, Francis," Marie said. "I want my daughter to marry the Dauphin, not some English upstart whose family has only been on the throne in England for a century. The French monarchy is much more stable, and besides, our beloved young Queen is half French, while only a quarter English."

"Careful Marie," Francis warned. "You are talking about upsetting the ruling of the Scottish council. You are talking about a carefully designed treaty and the possibility of breaking it."

"It wouldn't be a problem had this been the funeral of the old sow acting as regent instead of Queen Juana," Marie mumbled as she sipped her wine.

"You are bordering on treason, Marie, and not even your rank could protect you from such a charge," Francis said. "Take care."

"Of course," Marie replied, acknowledging what her brother had said, but discounting it. Marie knew she had to bide her time, but she would somehow see her daughter married to the young French Dauphin. It was just a matter of time. . . time and patience.


Flashback) Seven-year-old Prince Ferdinand was sitting by the fountain, with fresh tears coming down his face. Why did Charles have to be so mean sometimes? He loved his older brother, but Charles would get mad sometimes and get mean.

Suddenly, he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked up and was face to face with his mother, Queen Juana I of Castile.

He wiped his face, stood and bowed to his mother.

"Majestad." he said in a low, quiet voice.

The thirty-one year old Queen gave her youngest son a sad smile. Out of her six children, Ferdinand seemed to be more intimidated by her.

She sank down to his level and looked into his light brown eyes.

"What's wrong, mi angel?" she asked.

Ferdinand cried again.

"Charles was saying that I'm not important, because he's the Prince of Asturias and I have to stay behind with Eleanor, Isabella, Mary and Catalina. It's not fair. " he said.

Queen Juana sighed. Charles had inherited the Hapsburg pride, while Ferdinand took more after her.

She touched his shoulders.

"You and your sisters are just as important as Carlos. Don't you ever forget that. Your sisters will all be Queens and you will be important as well. I tell you what. When I travel to Zaragoza to meet your grandfather, you will come with me and Carlos will stay here with your sisters." she said.

Ferdinand smiled at his mother, with excitement and hugged her. Juana hugged her youngest son tight and kissed his cheek. (End flashback)

Ferdinand had fresh tears falling down his face as the memory faded, and the reality of the situation hit him harder than he thought possible. "Oh, Mama." he said, as he began to bawl.

He put his face into his hands and began to finally break down over the loss of his mother. He hadn't cried since her death and he finally couldn't hold it in anymore. He missed her guidance, wisdom and love.

Suddenly, he felt a hand touch his shoulder and he looked up and Princess Anne of Denmark was looking at him, with kind sorrowful eyes.

Ferdinand stood up and wiped his face.

"Hello, Princess. How are you today?" he asked.

Princess Anne smiled.

"I'm well. I just wanted to express my condolences at the loss of your mother, Queen Juana. She was well respected." she said.

Ferdinand nodded.

"Thank you do much, Princess. Your friendship and kind words are very meaningful." he said.

Princess Anne touched his arm.

"I lost my mother many years ago. I know your pain. You will get better." she said with a smile.

With a light curtsy, Princess Anne returned inside. Ferdinand watched her leave. He couldn't deny that the thirty-two-year-old unmarried Princess was very attractive and graceful. He smiled to himself at the lucky man who would ever marry her.

Ferdinand then sat down, in shock.

Was he in love with Princess Anne?


Margaret, the Dowager Queen of Scotland, was sitting near one of the doorways leading to the outer courtyard of the Alhambra. She had to admit, despite her reluctance to come here originally, the palace was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen. The gardens were extensive, and there was little doubt that her late sister-in-law, Katherine of Aragon, had enjoyed her childhood in this esteemed environment. She vaguely recalled her parents talking about the palace when they had returned from negotiations with the late Spanish monarchs concerning Arthur's marriage to the Spanish Princess, and her mother had described the place as heaven on earth.

The herald tapped his staff three times on the ground and cleared his voice. "Announcing His Royal Highness, Prince Edmund Tudor, the Duke of Somerset, and his wife, Lady Catherine, Duchess of Somerset."

Margaret gasped as her only living sibling stepped into the room with a beautiful younger woman on his arm. Edmund looked around the room and smiled when he saw his nephew, King Henry IX of England. The older man led his wife towards the King but paused when his eyes clashed with the older woman. He looked at Harry and asked something, to which the English King nodded, and the three of them walked towards Margaret in a somewhat hurried pace. Margaret stood from her chair as they got closer.

Edmund stared at his older sister in disbelief before remembering himself and bowing to her. Lady Catherine followed his lead as King Henry made the introductions. "Aunt Margaret," Harry began, "I believe you know your younger brother, Prince Edmund. This is his wife, Lady Catherine."

Margaret put both of her hands on her brother's upper arms and bid him to rise, also nodding to Lady Catherine to do the same. "Edmund," Margaret said with a tremble in her voice.

"Your Majesty," Edmund replied.

"No, dear brother," Margaret corrected, "It's always just Margaret or Meg to you. We are all that is left, and formality will not separate us on any occasion." With that, she embraced him, and he held her tightly, unable to believe that it had been so long since they had seen one another.

The reality of it was that the two siblings had not seen one another in fifty-one years, since Edmund was five years old and Margaret was leaving England to marry King James IV of Scotland. Edmund was now fifty-six, but that could not stop the two Tudors from this reunion. Both with tears flowing down their faces, there came a thunderous applause from all around the room when the other guests realized what was going on in the small space by the garden doors. Margaret and Edmund pulled apart and looked at each other, then laughed.


King Carlos I of Portugal was standing, observing the people around him. Never in his forty-three years of life did he think he would be in a room with all these people and different rulers. However, he knew that he should be grieving the loss of his aunt, Queen Juana, however he saw this as a golden chance to approach King Henri about a betrothal between his daughter, Infanta Joanna and the Dauphin, Prince Francis. Carlos would love one of his daughters to be a Queen.

He looked around the room and finally spotted King Henri across the room. He knew this was his chance. He downed his wine and began to walk toward the French King. This could be the beginning of a good future for his daughter.

Carlos walked up to Henri.

"King Henri, i am pleased to meet you. I am King Carlos of Portugal." he said.

Henri nodded his head.

I know who you are. What can i do for you?" he asked directly.

King Carlos smiled.

"I have heard that your son has not been secured a bride. I heard he was betrothed to Princess Isabel of Navarre, but since Queen Elizabeth gave birth to a son, you called it off. So, I have an offer you cannot refuse." he said, as he grabbed another goblet of wine.

King Henri nodded. He had never had contact with the Portuguese King, but he was interested in a marriage for his eldest son.

King Carlos continued.

"My offer is a marriage between your son and heir and my second eldest daughter, Infanta Joanna of Portugal. She's only one year older than him and would make a wonderful consort to him. She's fluent in French, Spanish, English and of course, Portuguese." he said.

King Henri looked at Princess Joanna from across the room. He could tell that when she was older, she would be beautiful. Her long reddish-brown hair was long and wavy and she was inheriting her height from her paternal grandfather, Henry VIII of England. However, Henri didn't care just about a pretty potential wife for his wife for his son.

He looked up at Carlos.

"Why should I consider this offer of marriage?" he inquired.

Carlos smiled.

"Because since you just came from war with Spain, i know that you are in need of funds, especially with three daughters of your own to provide dowries for and we all know you do not want to depend on your wife, Queen Catherine, for wealth. Therefore, I am willing to provide a dowry of three hundred thousand crowns in plates, jewels and coins and I will pay half of that on this very day." he said.

King Henri looked at the Portuguese King in shock. He couldn't believe his ears. That was a large dowry and he knew that his treasury really needed the funds. Plus, he knew that Portugal had always remained neutral to problems arising with Spain or England. Maybe this wasn't a bad offer after all.

King Henri nodded.

"I think we have a marriage. When will the Infanta depart for France?" he asked.

King Carlos put his wine down.

"The marriage will take place after she turns sixteen. I refuse to send her any earlier, as i do not want her health in danger. We all know that the French do not wait to consummate." he said, as he took a sip of his wine.

Henri frowned at the insult of his people, but he knew he needed the funds, so he let it go.

"Very well, the marriage will take place in four years. I will send my ambassadors to Portugal at Christmastide to negotiate the details of the marriage, if that is acceptable to you?" he asked.

Carlos nodded his head. "I look forward to meeting with them." he said.

Henri nodded.

"No need to worry. I am sure we can come up with a reasonable settlement on the Infanta for her marriage portion. Let's raise our glasses to this this new union and the future Queen of France." he said, as he grabbed another goblet of wine and raised it in the air.

Carlos smiled and lifted his goblet in the air. His daughter would be the Queen of France. Everything was falling into place.


His Royal Highness, the Archduke Ferdinand, was watching the reunion between the Dowager Scottish Queen Regent, Margaret, and her brother, Prince Edmund with awe. He couldn't help but feel somewhat in awe of the situation, given the fact that they were all assembled in Grenada at the Pope's command, to bury his mother, who was close in age to the aging Dowager Queen. But Margaret and Edmund's reunion was not the only thing to catch his attention.

Princess Anna of Denmark, the eldest unmarried daughter of the reigning King, King Christian III, was standing near the siblings. Since he had made her acquaintance at the coronation of Queen Elizabeth I of Navarre, he couldn't seem to get the young Danish Princess off his mind. She had become a constant friend to him and even now, at his mother's funeral, she showed her compassion and understanding. She was a true Princess, by any standards.

His thoughts were interrupted by a touch on his shoulder. "Father, you are a grown man. I don't understand why you won't simply go talk to the woman," his eldest son said, looking in the direction of Princess Anna.

"She's half my age son," Ferdinand responded.

"Your point?" his son and namesake asked. "Marriages are not always between two people of the same age, and since you obviously are not in need of more heirs, her age shouldn't matter either."

Ferdinand couldn't believe he was being advised by his son on a matter of marriage. He shook his head, but then it started to make sense. "You wouldn't object to a step-mother who is only five years older than you are?"

"Not if she puts that light back into your eyes and makes you happy, Father," the younger Ferdinand said honestly. "Besides, little Joana needs a woman's influence in her young life, and my unmarried sisters could use a friend to talk to when they marry, if you know what I mean."

The Archduke nodded. It was true that since his wife died, he'd had little companionship, other than his unmarried children still at home, and his youngest two daughters were still very influenceable and being raised by their nannies more or less, a role their mother used to fill more than most royal women should, but he never objected. He loved seeing his wife with their children.

"Well, then, son," Ferdinand said, "I suppose I should see if King Christian is free for a talk."

"I suppose you should," his son agreed, and smiling, watched his father, almost nerve-wracked, walk off to find the King of Denmark and Norway.


Martim Guerra stood near the banquet table nearest the double doors which led to the gardens. As a guard for the royal Princess, the Infanta Joanna, at her mother's request, he took his duty very seriously. He also did not want anything to happen to his cousin, so he kept his distance from the Princess, giving her some privacy to mingle among the guests, while still watching her like a hawk to ensure her safety while they were at Queen Juana's funeral.

He was taking a sip of his drink when a young woman approached him. She handed him a letter, which was folded, and then backed away slowly before Martim could question her. He opened the letter that was addressed to him and began to read its contents:

Sir,
I am writing to inform you that the woman you loved but so recently lost left behind a daughter, believed to be yours. Only you know if this is possible. Please, sir, I urge you to return to Italy and collect your little girl, who has been named Sofia-Therese and is being raised by her maternal grandparents, but is not well treated, as she has no father.

Martim turned the letter over to see who might have written it, but it was not signed or claimed. Someone wanted him to know he had a daughter but did not want to get involved. He was not certain what to do at this point. He looked around the room and spied another guard that was trusted by Queen Mary. After asking the man to watch the Princess for a moment, he found King Carlos and walked towards his King.

"Your Majesty," Martim began. King Carlos of Portugal turned around to greet his cousin and his daughter's borrowed body guard.

"Martim," the King responded with a nod.

"May I speak with you Sire? In private?"

"Of course," King Carlos nodded at the Scottish Duke he was speaking with and left the room with Martim following closely behind. "What is it?" the King asked once they were behind closed doors of the sitting room across the hall.
"This, your Majesty," Martim said, handing Carlos the letter. Portugal's King read the letter twice, turning it over, as Martim had done to try and discover the identity of the writer.

"Stay here, Martim," Carlos commanded. "I will find my cousin, the Queen of Naples and see what she can do." Carlos left the room swiftly, returning thirty minutes later with a beautiful woman, who Martim presumed was the Queen of Naples, Adriana.

"Adriana," Carlos began, "this is the young man I told you about; our cousin, Martim Guerra. Martim, Queen Adriana of Naples."

Martim bowed and kissed her hand as the two exchanged the proper formalities.

"Carlos has shown me the letter you received, Martim," the Queen said. "I cannot promise anything, but I do know the family concerned. Once I return to Naples, I will make inquiries as to your daughter and I will send word through Carlos with instructions."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Martim replied, gratefully. "Theresa and I were very much in love. I wanted her to be my wife, but she died before I could make that request of her father. I did not know about the child."

Adriana nodded. "I will do what I can to unite you with your daughter," she said with tears in her eyes for the pain the young man must feel. "Await my instructions."

Martim bowed and left the room, still feeling bewildered over the idea that he had a daughter, but if it was true, then he had part of Theresa with him, and he would love their little girl with everything he had to offer her.


Luis entered the chapel with a solemn look on his face. He walked to where his great-grandmother lay in her casket, in front of the altar steps. His great-great grandparents' effigies were nearby, and his grandfather, Charles, said that they were planning to move his father, Philip the Handsome, to the chapel once the funeral was over. The chapel had been commissioned by his great-great grandparents long ago, before their own deaths, and was supposed to be the burial site of all future Spanish monarchs, but it was still unknown if his grandfather would move his grandmother, Mary, the late Holy Roman Empress, to the chapel or if he would be buried with her instead. Though he and Elizabeth had never discussed the topic, mostly because they were both so young, he would like to follow suit with his family's decisions and be buried here. No one could deny that it was a beautiful setting.

When he reached the late Queen's casket, he crossed himself and kissed it, then knelt before her final bed to pray. He did not know if she could hear him or not, but he wanted to say goodbye to her and to thank her for always being a rock in his life, regardless of the situations facing their family. He wanted to tell her that she had done well by him and to assure her that he would not be the wandering husband that his great-grandfather, and even his father had been. He would be good to his family and teach his son not to lust after a woman other than his wife. Luis was so deep in his prayers that he did not hear the dainty footsteps approach.

Isabella sat down in the front pew of the chapel's seating, before the casket of her Aunt Juana, trying not to disturb her cousin's prayers for his great-grandmother. She sat quietly, waiting for Luis to finish and glanced around at the beautifully decorated chapel.

"It's quite stunning, is it not?" Luis shook her out of her own thoughts after quite some time had passed.

"Yes," Isabella replied. "I've never seen anything like it."

"My great-great grandparents had this chapel built as their final resting place," Luis informed her. "They died before it was finished, but my family had them moved here once it was complete."

Isabella smiled. She knew her own parents were safely entombed in England but would have never thought about moving them from where they were buried.

"Isabella," Luis continued, "I heard what you did for my son and wife when Elizabeth was in labor. I cannot thank you enough for saving his life. Spain and Navarre cannot thank you enough for saving their future King."

"It was nothing, your Majesty," Isabella replied. "Elizabeth is my sister. I wouldn't have wished a dead child on anyone, much less someone I care so much about. Your son is my nephew, and I love him as well."

Luis nodded at her. "Is there anything you would like as a reward for your heroic actions that night?"

"No, your Majesty," Isabella said with sincere honesty. "The fact that my sister did not have to face a dead baby is reward enough."

"Come now," Luis urged her on. "There must be something, no matter how great or how small it is, that would make your life more comfortable than what it currently is?"

Isabella thought for a moment. "Perhaps just one small thing, your Grace."

"Name it and if it's in my power as King Consort to grant it, I will," Luis said, looking at his sister-in-law with affection.

"I have heard rumors that I am to be married again for the good of Spain," Isabella informed her brother-in-law. "Although I realize that there will always be rumors concerning different matters of state, I would like your word that I will never be forced to marry again for a political alliance. I am the Dowager Marquesa of Moya, and I would prefer to remain that way, unless I so choose to marry again. I loved Andres too much to marry a man for a political reason, sire."

Luis thought about what she said for only a moment before responding. "Isabella," he began, and kissed her hand, "you have my word as King Consort of Navarre and the future King of Spain, that if it is up to myself or Elizabeth, you will never be forced to remarry."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Isabella said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"With that, dear sister," Luis said, standing as he did so, "I will take my leave of you, so you can say your own goodbyes to our late Queen."

Isabella nodded and watched her brother-in-law walk out of the chapel, a weight lifted from her shoulders knowing that she would be in control of her own future, for the most part, without the worry of a new husband who could treat her as cruel as her first had done so many years ago.


30 April 1555
Alhambra Palace

The feast had ended. The guests had retired to their rooms for the night. Dawn was breaking over the horizon of Grenada, revealing a magnificent sunrise. The children, grandchildren, and other relatives of the late Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon had gathered in the Royal Chapel to say their final goodbyes to the matriarch of the family that encompassed many of the monarchies in Europe before her casket was laid to rest beside her mother, in the elaborate marble tomb commissioned by her parents' decades before. The bishops of Castile, Aragon, and Navarre came together to sprinkle her casket with holy water, as well as all of those who remained on earth to mourn her loss, and there was not a dry-eye in the room as her casket was placed in the floor of the Chapel.

The assembly bowed their heads as the bishops offered their prayers and the children of Philip and Juana, except the late Queen Isabel of Denmark who had died nearly twenty-five years prior, joined hands in the front of the Chapel. They were a sight to behold to any in the room who knew who they had become; the Dowager Queens of France, Hungary and Bohemia, and Naples, stood with their brothers, the Archduke of Austria, and the Holy Roman Emperor who was also now King of Castile and Aragon. Regardless of what anyone at the time thought of the late Queen, there was no doubt that she had done well for her children when it came to their marriages. Among her grandchildren, were countless nobles and the King and Queen of Naples, the Queen of Poland, the Crown Princess of Denmark and Norway, and the Princess of Andorra. Her nephews and nieces encompassed the royal houses of Portugal, England, Scotland, and Sweden. However, if the late Queen could rise again, she would be most proud of the fact that her newly born great-great grandson, the Infante Eduardo, son of King Consort Luis and Queen Elizabeth of Navarre, who, in her mind, had the potential to one day unite Castile, Aragon and Navarre under a single ruler. Charles couldn't help but think of this as the prayers for his mother were concluded and the crowd began to disperse.

Luis approached his grandfather and bowed. Charles hugged his grandson, the only son of his eldest child, the late Infante Philip, Prince of Asturias and Girona. "How are you Luis?"

"As well as can be expected, Grandfather," Luis replied. As they were both Kings in title, there was no need for formalities, especially today. "A messenger just arrived and told me to give you this." He handed his grandfather a sealed message. The letter bore the seal of His Holiness, the Pope.

"I wonder what this could be? He was just here," Charles stated out loud, trying to gather his thoughts before opening the parcel. He broke the seal and read the message it contained. His face went from an almost normal color to pale white in a matter of minutes, and the Holy Roman Emperor sat down harshly in one of the Chapel's pews.

Queen Elizabeth of Navarre, who was nearby and talking to her niece, the Infanta Joanna of Portugal, witnessed this and rushed to Charles' side. "Your Majesty?" she questioned. "Are you alright?"

Charles could not speak. He just shook his head. He was in shock.

Luis took the message from his grandfather and began to read it in order to determine what had caused such a reaction.

"Luis?" Elizabeth questioned.

Her husband just looked at her, then back to the message, then back to his wife. "He. . . The Pope. . . on the way back to Italy. . ." was all Luis could stammer, and he offered the parchment to Elizabeth to read for herself.

"De los Santos," Elizabeth exclaimed. She looked at the people who were still gathered in the chapel and then walked to the dais. "Ladies and Gentlemen," the young Queen of Navarre began, watching as the assembly reformed and looked at her. "We have just received word via courier that His Holiness, Pope Marcellus II, has passed from this life to his eternal reward in heaven. He died last night, in his sleep, on his way back to Italy. His entourage will be escorting his body back to Rome for burial. There will be a conclave later in the month to elect the next Pope."

Every person in the room dropped to their knees after hearing Queen Elizabeth's words and crossed themselves, then began praying for their late religious leader. Elizabeth went back to her husband and his grandfather, joining them in prayer as well. Once the prayers were concluded, the message was posted in the foyer of the Alhambra, so the other guests could be informed before they departed for their respective nations. As Charles and his siblings, as well as Luis and Elizabeth, stood in the foyer thanking the multitude of rulers for attending Juana's funeral and informing them of the fate of His Holiness, Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder what else could possibly go wrong.

A/N Here's the funeral scene for Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon. It was sad, but I'm glad me and my partner are finally done with this chapter. Now the story can go on and hopefully it won't take forever to upload again lol. I hope you all loved this chapter. How do you think Spain will be in the wake of Queen Juana's death? How will her children cope? There will be Royal births coming. These births are Queen Mary of Portugal, Lady Margaret Marlowe (Brandon) and Lady Jane Grey-Stewart. What do you predict this genders will be? Please Read and Review! Chapter 45 will be up soon!