The Boleyn King

Chapter 3

25th April 1554

Palace of Westminster, the Chambers of the Princess Elizabeth of England

"His Majesty, King James I of England and of France, Lord of Ireland," the herald announced to the Princess Elizabeth as her brother entered, unlike most subjects she did not stand up nor bow – earning her the shock of her Ladies – instead she merely rolled her eyes and continued to brush her hair as if he were not even there.

"Bess-," James began but was swift to be cut off by his older sister.

"Not today, Jamie," Elizabeth stated with a sigh as her tone turned to one of sarcasm, "haven't you heard? Today is my wedding day!"

"It won't be if you don't want it to be, Bess," it was supposed to be fathers, brothers, uncles and other male relatives that controlled the lives of their siblings yet James would rather retain the love of his Tudor tempered older sister than have such a control. Not if it meant that she would hate him for it, "not if it shall cost me our sibling bond. I chose him as it would give you the opportunity to prove yourself to all, to be the woman that mother and father claimed would preside of Empires; I wanted that for you Bess."

Elizabeth's sharp eyes filled with intelligence and the strength of a hundred men snapped to him, her eyes softening as she saw the unspoken apology that seemed to be written across her brother's face even if his pride would not allow him to speak the words, the genuine promise that he would stand up the heir to the monarchy (well, technical it was his proxy that was to marry Elizabeth) of Denmark and Norway, Duke and Earl of more places one could remember if it meant to retain the affection of his only full blooded sibling.

"Nay," Elizabeth stated, barely missing a beat as she looked at her brother's face. She had always said that she was to as brave and as intelligent as any man and she would be within this marriage, if she played her cards right then it would be she that exerted the power within the Danish and Norwegian monarchy, like the Queen upon a chessboard as well as strengthening her home country in the process, "I rather think I shall make a far better Queen Consort of Denmark and Norway than any other could hope to, and who am I to complain of marrying a Crown Prince."

"I shall miss you, Bess, more than you could ever know," stated James, dark eyes meeting dark eyes – ones that both had inherited from the infamous Anne Boleyn – as the siblings offered one another a smile. Together the two had been through the death of their mother, the insults thrown on them by cruel crowds, the rumours of illegitimacy and the exile from their father; even a sea away that would not stop.

"And I you."

The grand celebration of the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth of England to Prince Frederick of Denmark and Norway was a sight to behold as people lined up to see the third royal marriage (well, one partial royal as it was that of the Lady Mary's) of the 1550s, probably not to being seeing another one for many years; and it did not disappoint.

Food and drinks were offered out to all and none could deny the radiance of the red haired Tudor Princess whose hair matched the fire within her soul as she left the church on the arm of the Danish-Norwegian proxy to head to the ports of Kent to begin a life with her new husband – a satisfied smile upon her beautiful face, for she would make her new countries proud of her, she would be a ruler to behold.

JT-JT-JT-JT

10th May 1554

Hampton Court Palace

The Privy Council met upon that day to discuss a desire of James' upon that day, for on the 19th of May, the eighteenth year after his mother's untimely demise, for her to receive a true Queen's burial.

There had been protests, of course, for the way the people of England had seen her and for the fact that such an action may overshadow the fact that it was the King's birthday yet he would not hear a single protested word upon it, and the council had not a way to dissuade him. Therefore, with great haste people were creating a grand coffin lined with gold to move Anne Boleyn from her archer's case of a coffin to, as well as preparing a new chamber within Westminster Abbey for her.

After such an agreement had been reached James and Joanna had decided that they would dine with one another upon that night, as they did almost every night, only this time in was to be notably different.

When James had arrived she had already had food lay upon her plate, oranges. Lots and lots of oranges to such an amount that James could not help but raise his eyebrows at his wife, especially as he knew how much she simply detested oranges.

She grinned at him as he came in and took a seat, and when his food was delivered, and when he took his first sip of wine, until finally he asked, "are you alright, love?"

"Mostly," she informed him with a nod, before giving him a secretive and rather mischievous smile. When Joanna had first come to England as the Infanta Juana she had been cold and proper but these past few months have had the two grown closer as not just lovers but as someone he could truly call a friend, "but I seem to be craving oranges."

James frowned slightly, voicing his earlier thoughts, "but you hate oranges."

"Yet I'm craving them."

"Cravin-… Oh," his eyes seemed to dawn with realisation as Joanna laughed at his rather comically wide eyes, "oh… That's brilliant!"

He let out a joyous laugh as he pulled her from her chair and into a hug, swinging her around merrily as her giggle turned into a full blown laugh, that was until he remembered of her condition as hastily checked her over, worried that he may of harmed her in some way before she quelled his worrying with a swift kiss to his lips.

The Queen's on looking Ladies smiles to one another as they looked at the embracing and affectionate couple, seeing how it seemed as if Anne Boleyn's son was truly to get the golden world she had once dreamt of for her children and for herself.

For the King and Queen seemed as if nothing could stop their seemingly ever growing love, not until death do they part.

JT-JT-JT-JT

21st July 1554

Hudson House, the residency of the Lady Mary Carey nee Tudor

Mary positively beamed as she watched her white, unmarked sheets be taken away by one of her two Ladies. Not a drop of blood upon them.

It had been three months since her disaster of a wedding to the Knight and King's cousin, Sir Henry Carey, and it turned out it had taken him a fortnight of her riling him up and trying to make him feel desire towards her until he broke and they consummated their marriage. Afterwards he had immediately left, obviously worried that James would find out that he had broken his vow and had not been to his wife's residence since. Mary had fretted and fretted that just one night would not be enough but seemingly it had been, it was a sign from God that she was to take the throne from the bastard usurper, her half-brother James and his pregnant Queen.

She supposed that the Queen's pregnancy could have signified that He believed in James' rule but this had proved any doubt wrong. It had taken the King and Queen over two months of conceiving for any life to stir whereas Mary had her own babe within her womb after just one act of possible conceiving; it was a sign and she knew it.

God would give her strong, healthy children to rule England after her whereas James' would be weak and stickily, she was to be certain of it. And Elizabeth was not approaching any signs of a child yet therefore all signs pointed to Mary in her opinion.

Turning to one of her Ladies – a daughter of one of her mother's own Ladies-In-Waiting and one of whose allegiance she was certain was within her possession – and ordered of her, "go to the West and North-West of England, the places most dominantly Catholic, take all my riders with you and tell them that their Queen, Mary Tudor I of England, is with child."

Widened eyes the maid scurried off to do her bidding and Mary allowed herself a large smile, one hand upon her soon to begin swelling stomach.

Let the games begin, my bastard of a brother, let the games begin.