Another in my Tudor musings series, this one from the POV of Katherine of Aragon, circa 1530. As always, I own nothing; please read and review.
Since I was three years old, I have been destined to be Queen of this strange, barbaric country. I have always known that this is what God intended for me – to first, be Princess of Wales, then Queen of England, wife to King Arthur, and mother of a whole nursery of princes, the image of my royal husband, to make him proud. I was born to two of the greatest rulers and warriors Europe had ever seen. The great union of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castille was famed, far and wide. These were my role models; they trained me for the life I was destined to lead. Without their training, I would never have negotiated the murky and dangerous waters of old King Henry's court when my husband died. Without the early years spent on the battlefields of Spain, I would never have led my husband's army to victory against the Scots. And without their devoutness, I never would have survived the pain of losing my children, every child but one.
And now, now that I am no longer able to bear my husband, King Henry, ruler of England, the male heir he needs to secure the Tudor line, I am to be cast aside for a dark eyed whore who is the scandal of Christendom. It is known that husbands often take mistresses and Kings even more so. I expected this, and so I was able to turn a blind eye when my beloved husband took other women to his bed, preferring their company over mine. I did not react like my sister, who gave into the blackness within her soul. I simply allowed him to take his pleasures elsewhere, and welcomed him lovingly and without reproach when he returned to me, as he always did so.
But Mistress Boleyn is different. She will not allow the King to bed her, as she wished to stay pure for her husband. Though, if court gossip is to be believed, wanting to stay pure for her husband did not prevent her from being intimate with Henry Percy.
And so the King, who was once named 'Defender of the Faith' by the Pope, is looking to tear this country, my beloved adopted country, from the protection of Rome, the Pope and ultimately from God, all so he can divorce me, his one true wife. He wishes to cast me aside, after more than 15 years of marriage, to marry his whore. But I will not allow them, the pair of them, plotting and scheming, to do this easily. Henry thinks that because I have always been dutiful, obedient Kate, his childhood sweetheart, I will simply retire to an abbey somewhere. But I will not. I have our daughter to consider. Our one surviving child and the joy at the centre of my being. For her sake, I will endure everything that Henry and Anne put me through. I saw my beloved mother fight countless battles against the Moors, and win, and so I, in turn, will give Mary an example to follow.
One day, when she is Queen, as is her destiny, as it was mine, she will face some difficulty, some battle which must be fought and won. And in that moment, she will remember me, and she will fight that battle with all the spirit of her mother, and all the strength of her grandmother. This will be my daughter's hour, my mother's legacy passed down to my daughter, and my revenge on the children of Anne Boleyn.