A/N: Last chapter was my own tribute to a great legend, Lemmy from Motorhead. I couldn't believe when I saw the news this week that he died. Rock on forever Lemmy! He is now in Hell, wining against Pinhead no doubt. \m/
Chapter 2: The King, the Ambassador and Countess have a secret
"I see your face before my eyes
I'm falling into darkness
Why must I fight to stay alive?
Heroes fallen
Wake me can't you hear me calling?
Out of darkness they come crawling
Here I am, I am lost in your land
And I hope you will be creeping in my soul
Shadows fall, let me out,
hear my call
and I'll always believe
creeping in my soul
Creeps from the deep's gonna be freaking up your mind
creeps from the deep's gonna be feeding off the spine
I fade away into the night
My eyes are closing in
Shadows are fleeing from the light
My nightmares can begin
Wake me can't you hear me calling
Out of darkness they come crawling
Here I am, I am lost in your land
And I hope you will be creeping in my soul
Shadows fall, let me out,
hear my call
and I'll always believe
creeping in my soul
Creeping in my soul is getting out of control
I got to find my escape and get out of this black hole
Justice int he world is hard to find
time has come to make my mind
no matter how deep or remote you hide
all my thoughts seem caught up inside
Creeps from the deep's gonna be freaking up your mind
creeps from the deep's gonna be feeding off the spine
Here I am, I am lost in your land
And I hope you will be creeping in my soul
Shadows fall, let me out,
hear my call
and I'll always believe
creeping in my soul."
~Creeping in my Soul by Cryoshell
Summer 1573
Nonsuch Palace
Nor asked Vicky to read her from her and Theresa's favorite book again. "I am going to try something new. Here."
Nor eyed the book curiously. "What's this? Le Morte d' Artur? Who was King Arthur?"
"He was the King who united all of Britain. He was a legend."
"What's a legend?"
"It's something that isn't true but at the same time, it isn't. You understand?" Nor shook her head. "You will understand someday." She began to read "After Master Walter map had put down in writing as much as he thought sufficient about the Adventures of the Holy Grail, his lord King Henry II felt that what he had done would not be satisfactory unless he told about the rest of the lives of those he had mentioned … So Master Walter begins … When Bort arrived at court in the city of Camelot from the faraway lands of Jerusalem, he found much there that had brought him…" When she got to the middle where Lancelot has one last encounter with Arthur and is accused of treason once again and must defend himself, Nor closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Vicky put the book down and blew off the light of the candle then went to her room. She never had this much fun with Theresa and her other siblings. Except Virginia. But Virginia was different. She always knew what Vicky liked and wasn't needy like William.
She sighed. Her maidens had already taken off. She hated the idea of marrying out of duty. It wasn't like she wasn't aware of it. Since she was three, she had been told that she had to marry so England could have a strong political alliance with another foreign country besides the Netherlands (where it continued to receive support from her father in spite of her betrothal). But did it have to be so soon? She was only fifteen. Who knew what this man was like? Sure, people said he was handsome. Blond face, blue eyes and fair face. But so what? Her father had all those features and he had gone off and stabbed her mother in the back while she lay dying and slept with that Catholic whore.
Philip was a Catholic and likely a hypocrite and at the first instance he got her pregnant, he would go running back to one of his whores. This is all so messed up. She wished there was some way that she could escape from this betrothal. There has to be a way. Her aunt Elizabeth escaped hers when she secretly married Robert Dudley. I could do the same. But then what? Her father would be utterly heartbroken. She always prided herself in being the good girl. Despite what Theresa said. She always obeyed her parents, even her stepmother. And not only would she be breaking her father's heart, she would be putting England in ridicule. No doubt Cecil and my aunt Bess will have loads to say to me if I go ahead with this.
Bess was able to get away with this because she was an elder, because she was smart and because she was her nephews and niece's favorite. And people loved her and Robert Dudley was popular in spite of his father and brother's executions, so there was no way that she was going to face any consequences except a short stay in the Tower which lasted only two months.
I must be smarter than this. I must be practical like my aunt Bess. People looked up to her, and if she did this, then it would be an insult to her mother's memory as well. No, I will close my mouth and do as I am told to show her (the self-righteous Catholic prig and her self-righteous ladies) wat I am made of.
When the day came to greet her betrothed, she wore her finest gowns. Green, silver and white. The Tudor colors with a matching French hood and small crown in front of it adorned with pearls and diamonds and other precious gemstones. She was nervous. She wasn't going to deny it when her father asked her how she was feeling. He told her she was going to do fine. She nodded.
Just breathe in and out. When he came forward, and the herald announced his full name and titles after the trumpets stopped, she couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was handsome. But not like she expected. His eyes were not warm or inviting like her father's or even her cousin's, Lizzie's oldest boy (Julian). They were cold, distant and he looked the other way when she stepped forward to pay her obeisance to him.
She felt like saying something but her stepmother put a hand on her shoulder.
"Dearest cousin, we welcome you to our shores. It has been so long since we've seen each other."
"Too long." Philip agreed. "And cousin, good to see you at last. You take after your Tudor forebears." He said, knowing this was exactly what his younger cousin wanted to hear. The Tudors were always known for their useless vanity.
"You flatter me, most say I take after our Plantagenet brood but what do they know, right?" Philip chuckled and followed the royal family to the table upon the dais where they enjoyed great food and merriment.
"How do you like England so far?" Henry asked, deeply cheerful to show off England's splendor to his foreign cousin and (hopefully if everything went according to plan) son-in-law.
"It is a beautiful country." He said. The two continued to engage in idle chatter until the King brought up the topic of his youngest daughter's betrothal. "My ambassador tells me that you've made a deal with the Netherlands and you have sent an embassy to the new Count Palatine. I am not one to tell another fellow monarch how to conduct business but seeing as we are family, and we will be more than cousins soon, I have to mention that the boy you will be marrying her to is an indolent fool."
Catherine turned to him and gave him that look that said See? I told you so. Henry hated that look. He kept up his pleasant façade, and told the King in a polite yet also firm manner: "Your Majesty, I understand that when our ancestors married they married under false pretenses. Some historians will say that they were fooled by Carrillo but those who knew them wrote that they were certain suspicions that they knew the bull they married under was fabricated but they did it anyway because it helped their goal of a united Spain." He knew he hit a chord when the King twitched his lips. "My youngest daughter is a Princess of the blood, worthy of Kings, Emperors even, but with no one left to marry, the only suitor left is Frederick V."
"The boy is not made from the same clay as his father. He will disappoint you." The King said with a light chuckle that was both amusing and funny when Lizzie who was all dressed in gold and white (a sign that she was out of her mourning period –something she was grateful, taken that she had not felt one ounce of sadness for her husband's sudden death) heard it. She was seated next to the King of Spain. A great privilege that many ladies, especially the Queen's ladies, and even her aunt's, envied her.
At first she didn't mind. She didn't care that their cousin was coming over to Spain. She didn't find his presence that appealing when his ambassador boasted about how handsome and virtuous she was. Lizzie wanted to laugh in the ambassador's face when he said that. Virtuous? Him? The man who had had them all and made their ancestor Ferdinand II of Aragon look chaste in comparison? But when she saw him walking towards her brother and sister-in-law, she swallowed her words.
He was handsome, and his eyes held an intensity she had not seen in any man –or woman for that matter. She smiled at him, a small smile that she didn't think anyone noticed but he had, but he kept that knowledge to himself.
"People change. When Henry II was born he was nothing but a sickly boy and look what he achieved. Edward III was sickly for most of his teenage life and was his mother's puppet until he became a father. If my own experience has taught me anything is that once a man reaches that point when he is forced to take responsibility for his loved ones, he shows his true colors."
"You are right on your last point, but there is no cure for someone who has no interest in government." Philip said and there was a note of finality in his voice that put both the matter of his intended daughter's betrothal and her groom to rest, which Henry didn't like but unlike his namesake, he let it go and instead enjoyed the rest of the celebrations.
During this time Victoria tried to engage in idle chatter with the King. It was unfair that she was seated with next to her stepmother. "I should be seated next to the King." She'd told her but her stepmother had vehemently opposed it, saying it wasn't proper. She gave an inward sigh as he and her father continued to debate. She had many good opinions on the subject as well, but she remembered what her father always said 'A lady must be proper and must abstain herself from meddling in men's affairs.'
It is not fair. Finally, she decided to make a bold move and stood up and walked towards him.
"Yes?" He asked calmly, looking up at his young betrothed.
"Would Your Majesty like to invite me to dance?"
The King rose an eyebrow. She was too forward for a lady, and even more forward for a Princess, but he guessed this was how they did things in England. He turned to her father, "If Your Highness' father does not mind?"
"None at all." Henry said, beaming as the King of Spain led his daughter down.
"She seems to be doing good for a first meeting."
"Not now Catherine."
"She is a Princess and she should start behaving as such. Just because she is your firstborn, doesn't mean she can do whatever she wants. It's not the wedding yet and she is behaving as if she is already the Queen of Spain."
"Catherine let it go. You wanted to hear someone else say the boy was foolish so you could say 'I told you so', fine you won. Say 'I told you so' but I will keep my opinion that the boy might still change because he might."
"And I will keep mine that he won't and you should look to others to wed her or better yet keep her here." Catherine said.
"Catherine, why are you so afraid? Eleanor is not the smartest pebble in our family, but she is my daughter and a Princess, she deserved the best. She is a Tudor."
"I bloody well know she is a Tudor but she also carries my blood and it angers me that you are still under Cecil and your aunt's thumbs."
"According to you I am under everyone's thumb except for you."
"Why must you bring Cecil and my lady aunt to every conversation? Cecil is my councilor, Walsingham is my master spy, and my lady aunt is … I already told you what she is. You have no right casting judgment of things you don't know."
"And you have no right selling our daughter to the lowest bidder. Are you not the King of England? You are letting them push you and push you."
"Nobody is pushing me. You are right I am King, and as King whatever they squabble over is decided by me. This was a decision I came to because it was what I wanted. Nobody made it for me. I introduced it to them and told them to send envoys to the Netherlands and across Germany to see who was the better 'bidder' as you put it, and Frederick IV's son happened to be that thanks to his age. Would you prefer I married her to someone twenty years her senior?"
"Of course not. But at any rate I wouldn't mind someone ten years older than her."
"Catherine why don't you admit that the only reason this bothers you is due to his religion. Not because of his title and Elector Palatine my love is a great title." He added quickly.
"It might be a grand title there but it means nothing here." She sighed and put her hand above his. "I just want us to be honest with each other."
"I know. And I promise you that I will keep you informed, but as King I have to keep some things secret, even from you." He said and she felt a knot form in her throat. She knew what kind of man she was marrying when she gave herself to him, body and soul, but she thought that he would be more open to her and break free from his aunt and Cecil's control for once.
"Have patience my love. I am doing what is best for our daughter, what is best for all of us. Trust me."
She wanted to believe him so bad, so she did taking that giant leap of faith which had landed her on the rocks so many times before.
Lizzie was humming in front of her mirror. Now that her husband was dead, she was freer to do what she wanted, and she didn't have to look behind her shoulder when she said an incantation, or said another prayer to get what she wanted. Tonight she was going to need all her powers of concentration for the following incantation. Her brother was already planning to marry her. In the past she had expressed interest in marrying Anne Stanhope's son by her husband, Edward Seymour, Viscount Beachamp now. But things had changed. Henry Carey had changed her for the worst and now that he was dead and she enjoyed the great power of independence, she wanted more. Not just more material goods, but more power.
Power was freedom and freedom meant everything for her. And this man could be the key to making her wishes come true.
"I will get what I want. Because I am a Tudor and I am my ancestresses' daughter." No other Tudor woman or descendant of Melusina who had inherited her gift, had the courage to tap into it because of what their religious tutors told them regarding witches and magic. Melusina was a demon, they said, and everyone who tapped into magic would go to hell.
But if hell meant a world of pleasure, and goods then Lizzie wouldn't mind going there. There had to be a god who was better than what the priests, Catholic and Protestants, held to be true. Their interpretation of God, didn't fit with her interpretation of what God stood for. Sometimes she wanted to tell them, that God was originally a woman whom Her prophets wrote as a woman because they were unable to deal with the truth about Her gender because that would mean that the women they had subjugated and humiliated in their lives deserved the same respect as they.
"Give me what I want." She said to the mirror. Behind her were seven black and white candles. One red candle and one blue. She didn't need magic to entice the King. He had already been enticed when he saw her, but a little magic from the Goddess wouldn't hurt.
As she said this over and over again and projected the image of King Philip before her as she closed her eyes, she felt a stirring in her loins and her hand reached down there and she was overtaken with desire.
Philip missed his friend, the Prince of Eboli, Ruy Gomez da Silva. After his death, he started sleeping with his wife, Ana Mendoza de la Cerda. She kept his bed warm after his wife had also died, ten months after Ruy. She died giving birth to their only son, Diego. The boy was very skinny and his doctors didn't think that he would live past his eighth birthday but Philip still bore hope.
It was why it was so imperative for him to marry again. He didn't like his first cousin Maria Manuela but he married her anyways because he wanted to be a good son, and he knew what his duty was.
This girl however was so different from Maria, and all the others. And he wasn't thinking of the Princess Victoria of Kent. The Countess Dowager of Hudson was a very attractive woman. She was afraid of engaging in any topic of conversation like her niece who shied, casting her eyes down, every time he asked for her opinion.
It is a shame. Indeed it was that he couldn't marry someone like her. Or that she can't be royal enough for me. But wait. Who said she had to be royal enough for him? He was the King of Spain, wasn't he? He could marry whomever he wanted. As soon as the thought entered his mind it left because his reason came back and it told him what a fool he was for thinking such a thing.
But if you could. It came back. Imagine what statement you would give the rest of the world. That the King of Spain is subject to no one, even to his own family.
It was true. He didn't like England, the country was foul and the climate was even fouler. There was hardly any sun! The only light he found when he stepped on this dreaded island is when he met her.
You have to do what you must. That voice told him. You are a King. Show them that you are no man's slave.
He was going to do just that. Possessed by his urge to see her, he left his apartments and ignored his ambassador's complaints and went to see her.
She was sitting in front of her vanity, putting on her oils to keep herself beautiful. It was a routine his second wife Isabel had followed as well. Before she put on her midnight gown, Philip burst in.
He was in total awe of her.
Lizzie let the gown fall down to her feet, Philip took one step forward, took her in his arms and claimed her as his own.
Years back a young man was looking down at his dying father. He had not looked at him since his mother died. Part of the reason was because his eyes reminded him of his lover and long-time companion, Maria Angeles. Though the two couldn't come out in the open, everyone in their household knew (or at least suspected) who she was.
"Father, you must give me your blessing." Eustace looked the other way. He couldn't tell his son that he was proud of him although he wanted to. Pride breeds weakness and too much pride had been his grandfather's undoing and he feared it would be his eldest son's too. Although if truth be told, he didn't think of Henry IX as his son. There was too much Henry VIII in him for his own liking.
Christoph, Isabella and Elizabeth (whom they should have never left behind) were his true children. Henry was just a spur of seed, a thing begotten in the heat of the moment. Nothing more.
But seeing his son hopeful, to close to tears –which Eustace was averse to seeing on his youngest offspring- he gave it and then breathed his last.
Christoph didn't cry. His sister mourned their father for weeks and grasped his hand. "He died as he lived, close to the woman he loved."
"How do you know that?"
"Every time he saw us, he saw her. He always loved her and we must respect his memory. You especially will keep it alive when you take up his mantle as Imperial Ambassador." She said with a wink.
He chuckled. "Don't be too carried away. It's not like it is official yet. The King of Spain trusted my father because his father trusted him. I don't know if I can live up to his reputation."
"You will. You are the son of Eustace Chapuys, the most infamous man of England. People are already talking about you there, you know. Especially our long lost sister."
He blinked. Really? "What are they saying, pray tell me."
"That you are handsome, assertive, and one tough son of a bitch like your old man."
"Good, I won't have a hard time intimidating them!" Both of them laughed. "Though I am not too keen to leave you and Nick."
"Nick and I can take care of ourselves. You go and live your life. I am sure Daniela can't wait to visit her mother's native land."
"Not so much. Daniela can't stop bragging about how Portugal is the best kingdom in the land. I don't think I will hear the end of it when I tell her we could be staying in England for years, maybe decades."
Isabella rolled her eyes. "Don't so dramatic. You are the best he has. Once you get him his desired betrothal you will be free to come back home where you belong."
"I wish that were true but the King of England will not be too happy to see me. You know what he thinks of our father."
"Too bad for him and for our sister too if what she said about you is true. You are our father's son but you are also your own man and I know for certain that you will give all of those arrogant fools, hell."
"I am sure going to miss you sister."
"I know. Me too." She said and gave him one parting hug.
The next day he told Daniela about his assignment. She said very little except her usual complaints about her mother's native country. How they had mocked her, nearly raped her grandmother, and she wanted nothing to do with it and she would be damned if she admitted she was half English. Christoph understood her –more than she was willing admit he did- but he didn't think it was healthy to blame an entire people for what happened to her maternal family.
His mother was born and raised in England and despite what had happened to her, she never forgot about her native country and spoke about it constantly. His father seldom agree with her views, but didn't stop her when she told them about her life, because he knew how much that meant to her. Daniela on the other hand found it much easier to blame an entire group of people for the sins of a few.
Christoph wouldn't have minded her hatred if it wasn't for the simple fact that he saw hate as useless.
Hate got you nowhere. It clouded your judgment and from what his father told him, it stopped you from doing your job.
It was why he found it so important to remind his wife the minute they stepped on this island to push aside all the previous notions she had on these people, and make friends with as many of the highborn women as she could, so he could have easier access to information.
It wasn't easy for her but she did it because she also understood him and how much this meant for him and his master. When he learned of his brother's marriage and his second wife's pregnancy, he was the first ambassador to report it, making him one of the most envied and hated amongst his peers, even amongst his brother's courtiers who were angry that he'd been one step ahead of them.
His father had been a legend in this country, not a good one but a legend nonetheless and he was happy to step into his shoes but he was also angry because his father would have been two steps ahead of them by now, thwarting whatever plans they had to make this union happen.
This union, he told himself, was not only the culmination of everything he had worked very hard for –to achieved peace between both kingdoms, but also of a promise he had made his father that he would keep his memory alive by preventing another Tudor from ruining his plans.
And that Tudor, he was saddened to say was none other than his half-sister. "God-damn her."
Lizzie woke the following morning in the King's arms. A smile graced her lips as she felt him hug her tighter. She was now his, her spell had worked. Nobody would stand in her way anymore. Not weighing the consequences of her actions, Lizzie closed her eyes and let sleep take her once more as the King opened his eyes and kissed her lips.