23 October 1520

Madrid, Spain

Catherine watched proudly as her nephew was formally crowned the King of Spain, the 1st King of Spain, on either side of her were her two eldest daughters the 17-year-old Mary and 14-year-old Anne, both looking every inch of the noble blood that coursed through their veins, looking around she was pleased to see that the french ambassador looked quite disgruntled at being seated far away from the dignitaries in a corner with a poor view, she and her daughters were placed next to the King and Queen of Portugal, and the Crown Prince John.

Following a coronation worthy of the heir of Ferdinand II and Isabella I, Catherine and her daughters along with their governess, made their way to the Grand Hall at the Palace El Escorial in Madrid. She could hear Anne and Mary exchanging whispers behind her,

"This is amazing Mary," said Anne staring wide-eyed around herself,

"This is where Mama lived," said Mary

"I know it's so big," replied Anne,

Stopping just before the entrance Catherine turned to ensure that her daughters were presentable,

"Now girls, do remember the protocols when presented to the Emperor," she said kneeling to brush some stray dust from Mary's dress and straighten Anne's hood,

"Yes mama," they both said in unison,

"Good," said Catherine, "Charles may be your cousin, but you must never forget he is an Emperor first,"

"We won't," promised Mary,

With that Catherine turned and led them into the palace,

"HRH The Duchess of Kent, and her daughters the Lady Mary and the Lady Anne Boleyn" announced the sentries,

Catherine walked through the doors, followed by the girls, and approached the throne where her nephew sat,

"Your Majesty," she said curtseying, something which was mimicked perfectly by Anne and Mary,

"My dear aunt," said Charles greeting them warmly, "It is lovely to see you and my darling cousins,"

"My beloved nephew," smiled Catherine,

"Come, please sit," said Charles gesturing to the chairs next to him,

Catherine smiled and motioned to the girls to follow,

As the banquet progressed Catherine found herself discussing the state of the English court with Charles,

"King Henry is known to be disappointed with his wife," said Catherine, "fourteen years of marriage, and they only have two daughters to show, Princess Margaret and Princess Louise,"

"I'm not surprised, what King does not wish for a son," agreed Charles,

"Do you think King Henry might look for another bride," asked Manuel I of Portugal

"I'm not sure, since any attempts to rid himself of his current Queen could potentially provoke war with France," said Catherine,

Changing the subject, "Tell me, my dear, how is your husband's business faring," asked Manuel

"It is doing well," said Catherine smiling,

"I'm glad to hear it, do you think he would open to trade with Portugal," asked Manuel

"I think he would be perfectly open to the idea," said Catherine, "I shall have him write to you when we return home,"

Catherine turned slightly, she was pleased to see that the girls were talking animatedly with there Spanish and Portuguese cousins,

"Nephew, I was rather hoping you might help me with a matter," said Catherine turning back to Charles,

"Of course, ask anything of me," smiled Charles,

"I have been struggling to find a suitable bride in England for my son the Earl of Wiltshire, I was wondering if you knew of any Spanish ladies who would be suitable to be his bride,"

"Might I make a suggestion," said Manuel leaning,

"Of course," said Catherine

"My daughter Isabella is the same age as your son, he could marry her whilst Mary weds Charles," said Manuel,

"What a splendid suggestion," said Charles, "One bride carrying the blood of the Byzantine Empire and another the blood of the great Catholic monarchs,"

"Does your husband still intend to try to take Byzantine," asked Manuel,

Catherine immediately knew what he was actually asking, "Yes, he believes it is too late for himself to become Emperor but his greatest wish is to see his son made ruler,"

Manuel nodded, in understanding

London, England

Queen Marguerite was lying in bed heartbroken, her 9th pregnancy had resulted in yet another stillborn son. She cradled the lifeless child tears escaping from her, 9 pregnancies, and all that she had to show for them were her 2 daughters and 7 stillborn or miscarried sons, and worse she knew her husband's patience was wearing very thin.

She was relatively certain, he was probably with one of his mistresses, probably his favourite Bessie Blount, who successfully delivered him four bastards, three of whom were boys. Even though he didn't say anything out loud, the Queen knew he saw that as proof that their lack of sons was not his fault.

"His Majesty is here," said one of her ladies coming in a curtseying,

"Thank you," said Marguerite steeling herself,

"My Queen," said Henry entering "Do not fear, we shall have sons yet," before turning right back around and leaving.

Marguerite tried her best to control the tears that flowed from her