Winter On The Weekend

'Tell me what you thought about when you were gone and so alone
The worst is over
You can have the best of me
We got older but we're still young
We never grew out of this feeling that we won't give up'

The Best Of Me by The Starting Line

27th June 1505, Palace Of Placentia, Greenwich, London

The dull ache in his head restricted his ability to read yet it impeded his sleep. The poultice that had been applied to the numerous cuts across his face was extremely itchy, and the disgusting medicine that physician had poured down his throat had yet to come into effect. His Lady Mother had come by earlier, despite the fact she was still supposed to be resting as she was finding this pregnancy difficult. She had not been able to stay for long, but she had comforted him by her mere presence. His father had visited too, dropping in with a few new books and some apples for his eldest son, but he too had to leave.

Being stuck in bed did not sit well with Edward. He found it boring, although he wasn't an outgoing and adventurous boy like his brother, Thomas, he rather enjoyed the intricacies of court and he loved people-watching. His father said that it made him look rather like that snake, Boleyn, but Edward couldn't see that as a problem. The only problem now was the fact he was stuck in bed and not allowed to go to the Prince's birthday feast tomorrow.

A sharp knock on the old door roused Edward from his exhausting thoughts, he tried to shift into a sitting position and plastered a small smile upon his face, in case it was his mother.

"Master Seymour, I am rather sorry to intrude but someone wished to speak with you".

Edward could recognise the gravelly voice from anywhere. It was Boleyn, standing tall, peering around the small chamber that belonged to the Seymour children. If he was horrified by the lack of space or the fact all the children had to share one small room, he didn't show it. He brought his daughter into the room and smiled kindly at Edward. A smile that Edward's father would have said was him seeing someone he could use.

"Annie, I'll be outside. I can only give you 15 minutes as Mama would want to get you ready for your lessons. I'll give a rap on the door when it's time to go" he murmured to his child, pressing a quick kiss to her dark hair.

"Lessons?" questioned Edward, eagerly, wincing at his jostled arm as he shifted.

"Yes, Master Seymour. My daughters have both had tutors from two years of age, and attend afternoon lessons three times a week with their tutor. I think it is important to have educated females around. Little Annie here will hopefully be one of the most educated women at court when she is older. When you have healed, you are welcome to attend some of the sessions. If your father agrees, of course…" Thomas replied before leaving.

Edward smiled happily at the door that Boleyn had just exited through, excited to be invited to attend some of the lessons. Despite his father's promises of a tutor, he hadn't delivered yet and Edward's Lady Mother was unable to teach him much more than basic reading and writing. Anne ambled over the small bed, using the chair beside it to pull herself up next to him.

"Sorry, I hurt you" she whispered, lip trembling and eyes wet.

Edward glanced at the young girl in front of him. Her dark eyes were downcast, and her hair was pulled back tightly into a plait with a coif covering. Her rose-coloured court gown was out of place, surrounded by the dark and dingy-ness of the small apartment.

"It's okay, it barely hurts at all now. And it means my Lady Mother has been bringing me peppermints to eat" he said, cheerfully, loving how her face brighten with a large smile.

"I love peppermints, but Papa won't let me eat them in case I ruin my teeth. He fears the barber" she grinned, flashing him a look at her pearly white but gappy milk teeth.

Edward returned her smile, sneaking a small peppermint into her hand and watching as she tossed it into the air and caught it in her mouth.

"I brought you a present to make you feel better" she said, digging into the small cloth purse that hung from her girdle.

Edward looked on curiously, peering over the shoulder of the small child. She turned back to him quickly, her dark eyes bright and happy, as she handed a small piece of parchment to him. He gingerly opened the parchment to see some scribbles on the page. He looked down at Anne who was looking very excited, before staring at the parchment trying to make sense of it. Suddenly, it clicked. It was a drawing and the words he was trying to work out were 'I'm sorry, love Annie'. The drawing was of her and him, holding hands with the sun shining above them.

"Thank you, Anne, it's very good" he acknowledged her gift, placing the picture on his bedside table. He felt very important. Although he loved his mother dearly, and his father was his idol, they rarely had time for him. And until recently, they hadn't got the money to celebrate his birthdays either. So, Anne's picture, being just for him, meant the world. He pulled her into a hug, thanking her again.

The knock sounded out loud and clear, their time was over.

XX

27th June 1505, Palace Of Placentia, Greenwich, London

"Ed, Ed, you missed it! This duck got stuck in some weeds and it almost drowned and then…then Prince Henry waded into the pond and rescued it. And then the cardinal came and then we had to hide the Prince and his wet clothes and then…Janey got so nervous that she was sick on his feet!" laughed Thomas, his cheeks ruddy from the sun outside. Little Jane lay him the bed opposite him, looking very sorry for herself indeed.

"And then, the cardinal looked horrified and then Charlie…" Thomas trailed off, his blue eyes glaring at his older brother, who was ignoring his tale.

"What is that?" Thomas questioned, pointing at the drawing Anne had made Edward.

Edward gave Thomas a withering look, shushing him before kicking him from the bed. Thomas fell to the ground with a loud crash and a startled yelp. His boisterous face appeared by the side and he pounced on Edward, who yelled at him.

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted John Seymour, glaring at his sons before pulling them apart. He spared a glance at Jane who was curled up with the covers over her head.

"He started it" snarled Thomas, making sure to get a final hit to Edward before their father separated them.

Margery entered the room, Lizzie perched on her hip, she floundered by the door, anxiety evident on her face.

"John, they were just being boys" she tried to plead with him, her blue eyes shining.

"Go back to the parlour, Margery".

She shook her head, moving from the doorway to Jane's bed, before placing Lizzie delicately into her large wooden crib.

"What was the disagreement about" asked John, his voice low and dangerous as he glowered at his sons.

Edward looked down nervously at his bedsheets and even Thomas shrunk at their father's tone.

"I wanted to know what that was by Ed's bed" whispered Thomas, moving toward their mother.

John reached over and plucked the drawing up, staring at it in silence before his voice rang out, "is this from Boleyn's girl".

Edward nodded.

"John, don't. The girl was only trying to be kind" whispered Margery.

John stared at Edward, "I told you to stay away from her. Boleyn is no good".

"Father, please", Edward could feel the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

John shook his head in disappointment at his son before ripping up the drawing and chucking it into the fire.

XX

28th June 1505, Palace Of Placentia, Greenwich, London

"Harry's going to love it" smiled Catalina, stroking Arthur's arm.

Arthur grinned at his beautiful wife, his fingers nimbly tucking the auburn lock that had escaped her gable hood back into its original place. She was only getting more and more beautiful to him. He adored the way she smiled and how the dimples gathered in her cheeks, the way she stretched out like a cat when she woke, the way she spoke his name – her Spanish lilt made her sound so sweet.

She carefully wrapped the red bow around the hand carved spears they can commissioned for Harry's 14th birthday celebrations. She knew Henry would adore the spears, especially with how much he adored being outside.

There was something Catalina wished to tell her husband about but she did not want to detract from Henry's special day and so she resolved to speak to Arthur after the celebrations had finished properly and they had finished their move to Richmond. She squeezed her husband's hand, gently. Today was important, not just for Harry, but for the King too. It was a sign from God that the Tudor reign was blessed with healthy children. Every year that passed brought more and more good news. Catalina understood why too, she knew from her tutor, Alessandro Geraldini, that once the child reached puberty then the risks of them dying decreased dramatically. Harry was only just going into puberty, and now he was old enough and once she had produced an heir with Arthur, Harry was to enter the church and help England to strengthen its political and spiritual ties that way.

She smoothed down the skirts of her yellow gown, admiring how skilled the seamstress was. Back at home, Catalina wore light chiffon and silk, but England was much colder, and Catalina had some to appreciate the heavy velvet of her English gowns. Although, it was rather warm today.

She looked at her husband, his kind blue eyes shining back at her, full of love.

"We must go, my love" he smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple.

"I know" she sighed, readying herself to join the court.

He squeezed her hand, before signalling to his attendant to carry the gift. He just hoped that Harry wouldn't get too excited today and that he would still show a degree of decorum.

XX

28th June 1505, Palace Of Placentia, Greenwich, London

Margaret's eyes appraised her youngest granddaughter. Mary Rose was all sunshine and smiles, far too alike her maternal grandmother, Elizabeth Woodville. She was truly a princess; spoilt to the bone yet graceful. In a way, Margaret was ever so pleased that Mary had inherited her mother's beauty and charm, it made up for the fact that she was wilful and impulsive. Unlike her older sister, Margaret, Mary seemed to lack the ability to be both patient and sensitive.

Margaret smiled sharply, in a man's world, a woman needed to be fierce to survive. Her son's wife, Elizabeth, did as well as she could but she was sweet and simpering, she lacked the sharpness that a woman needed to control her husband.

"Lady Grandmother" greeted Mary, her delighted steel grey eyes bright and enthusiastic. She carefully placed her lute upon the red chaise lounge.

"Princess Mary Rose, I wished to denote some advice for you before we head off to Prince Henry's birthday celebrations".

Mary Rose was used to her grandmother's bluntness. It was often a Godsend in a place where liars ran around unchecked. She gestured for her grandmother to follow her to the set of French armchairs before asking her governess to pour them some sweetened tea.

"Your father wishes for you to begin to prepare for a betrothal. At Harry's birthday celebrations, there will be many ambassadors and it is imperative that you make a good impressive".

Mary Rose nodded, she knew all of this. Although she was young, her father and mother had drilled it into her. Impressions were everything when you ruled.

"Who is in the running for my hand, Grandmother?" she asked, pushing her red-gold hair behind her ear.

"There is Charles Habsburg, he is due to become the Holy Roman Emperor with his father's decline in health or there is King Louis XII or his heir, Francis Valois-Angoulême".

Mary Rose scowled heavily, irritated by her grandmother's words. How could they even entertain the idea of marrying her to a old man. Surely as a the youngest royal princess, she should be allowed to marry for love. After all, both Arthur and Margaret had married for political reasons, there was no need to ruin her life.

"Of course I'll make a good impression, Lady Grandmother" smiled Mary Rose, sipping at her tea.

"We must be going now, my dear. Harry will never forgive us if we are late to his party".

They both chuckled heartily at that.

XX

Notes:

Disclaimer – I do not own Showtime's The Tudors, Michael Hirst's ideas or British History.

History Facts:

Tea was brought to England until the early 1600s and wasn't popularised until the 1660s, where Charles II's wife, Catherine Of Braganza, used it as a court beverage rather than as a medicinal drink.

Princess Margaret married King James Of Scotland on the 25th January 1503 (by proxy) and again, she left England on the 27th June 1503 to head to her new life as Queen consort. King James was said to be kind and loving towards Margaret, despite the age gap so I plan to show a historically accurate relationship there. Although we haven't seen Margaret yet, she will show up soon.

Thank you to all my reviewers, followers and those who have favourited this story. I adore you all!

I hope to update sooner next time as I have some inspiration for the next chapter.