AN: This is Henry's POV of the proposal scene in my Tudors story Sister to the Queen. I don't own the song, nor anything else you might recognise.

As the blackbird in the spring
'neath the willow tree
sat and piped
I heard him sing
praising Aura Lee.

"Eleanor! I thought you'd never come!" I sprang up as I saw my sweetheart coming towards me through the palace garden gate. I pulled her to me and stroked her cheek as she leaned up to kiss me.

"It was hard to slip away. My sister detained me. I'm sorry." She let her lips linger on mine; sending shivers down my spine. I forgave her at once. I forgave her everything.

"That's all right. Come, sit down with me."

I lay down in the sun and Eleanor joined me, her golden hair rippling, dappled with the sunlight shining through the branches of the weeping willow behind us. She rested her head on my chest and the day suddenly seemed a whole lot brighter. It always did when I was with her. She was my sun; my Duchess of the Summer Sun.

I heard the swallows calling as they swooped overhead and, right then, their calls seemed the most beautiful music that I had ever heard.

I ran a hand through Eleanor's golden curls, not caring whether anyone saw us or not. I loved Eleanor with more passion than I had ever loved anyone in my life.

And she seemed to return my feelings, for she giggled and wriggled away from me as she felt my fingers in her hair. That giggle was the prettiest sound I had ever heard.

Aura Lee! Aura Lee! Maid with golden hair
sunshine came along with thee and swallows in the air.

But then, all of a sudden, she sighed, and her beautiful eyes; sapphire hooks for my soul, momentarily lost their enchanting sparkle. Her shoulders sagged and I swear I felt my heart sink with them. What was wrong? Had I said something? Only a moment ago we had been laughing and planning how we would meet when the Court went off on progress for the summer, for we would both be going, I in my capacity as a page in the King's household and she as her sister, Lady Anne Boleyn's, favourite and most trusted Maid of Honour. Now she looked worn, exhausted and brow-beaten. Not like my golden maiden of happiness at all.

"What's wrong, Eleanor? My love? Have I said something?"

She shook her head. "It's not you, Henry. Truly, it's not. It's just… my Uncle's watching us all like hawks. He's watching for any scandal that might besmirch Anne's name and risk jeopardising King Henry's courtship of her. It's stifling, honestly. I feel like a falcon who's been trapped in a cage and deprived of any proper form of life!" she exclaimed, almost springing up in her frustration.

Running my hand over her face and then down through her hair again, I tried to win back her good humour by teasing her.

"Then what, Eleanor, are you doing here? With me?"

"I slipped away for once. I wanted to be myself, without having to watch my every move. I haven't long though. Someone will come looking for me sooner or later, and if I'm caught with you, like this, we'll be in so much disgrace…"Eleanor's voice trailed off and, instinctively, I rolled her over so that I was lying on top of her, pinning her to the ground as I kissed her, light-heartedly, letting my lips trail over hers mockingly, enticingly.

"Then what are we going to do? How on earth am I going to make you a respectable young woman again, fit to be sister-in-law to our most gracious sovereign lord? How am I to release you from those strangling jesses of yours? I'm only thirteen myself, you know." I couldn't help but have to stifle laughter as I responded. She made such a pretty picture, lying there spread-eagled beneath me.

All of a sudden, however, she sat up and used the year between us to her advantage, tipping me off her as she crooned into my ear.

"Oh but Henry, my sweet lord, it's quite easy. Just ask me one question, that's all. You know which one."

I hadn't expected her to be quite so forward, though looking back, I should have done. They didn't call her older sister the most determined woman in Christendom for nothing. At that moment, however, I wasn't thinking of Anne Boleyn at all. The only Boleyn girl on my mind was the one in front of me. The one I wanted to win for my own. I sprang up and gave Eleanor my hand to help her up. I kissed her once more, more passionately than I ever had before, thinking "No matter what happens now, at least I've shared passion with her. No one can ever take that from me," before kneeling before her to ask the question I knew she wanted to hear.

Take my heart and take my ring
I give my all to thee
take me for eternity
dearest Aura Lee!

"Eleanor. Fair Eleanor Boleyn. Sister to the future Queen. Eleanor Boleyn, Queen of my heart, will you be my Duchess, forever and forever? Will you marry me?"

In her blush the rose was born
'twas music when she spoke
in her eyes
the light of morn
sparkling seemed to break.

Glancing up, I saw that a blush – a blush that seemed to me as beautiful as any of the roses in His Majesty's finest Rose Gardens - had crept into her cheeks as I spoke to her. Cringing inwardly, I wished I had had a prettier speech ready to offer her; a poem swearing my undying devotion to her, perhaps. Or at least a ring. This hadn't been what she'd deserved. This had been an impulsive, almost crude, proposal. Yet, at least it had been honest. She was fair. She was the sister to the future Queen. She was the Queen of my heart. I had told her all of that more simply and more directly than I ever thought would be possible. Now the decision rested in her hands.

Of course it should have gone through our families; of course I should have asked my father to ask hers for her hand, but I couldn't do that. Not to my Eleanor. She would have thought that I didn't love her enough to afford her the honour of a proposal in person, and that wasn't true. I loved her more than anything in the world. People said thirteen was too young to fall in love, but they didn't know me. They didn't know Eleanor. She was the only one I could ever imagine marrying; the only woman I could countenance having at my side as my Countess; my future Duchess.

And to my relief, if the sparkle in her eyes; the sparkle that seemed as bright as the first light of dawn, was anything to go by, she returned my feelings in full force.

Her voice positively shook with happiness as she replied "Of course I'll marry you, Henry. Of course I will! I'm going to go and ask Anne to get the King to bless our union!"

"Now?" I asked in astonishment, stunned by the haste of her decision.

"Of course! Why wait? There's no time like the present!"

"I'm not fourteen yet." I reminded her.

"You will be in February. We might as well ask permission early. We could have a spring wedding. A spring wedding to mark a new beginning. The beginning of my sister's reign as Queen. She'll be Queen by this time next year, I'm sure of it!"

Eleanor kissed me, laughing joyfully and then sprinted off, her hood still in her hand and her curly hair streaming like a banner of liquid gold behind her.
I watched her go, struck by a sudden vision.

"Papa! Papa! Papa's home! Mama, Papa's home!" My children's voices ring through the halls as they raced to greet me. Chuckling, I pick my oldest daughter up and spin her in the air, delighting in the way her golden hair catches the light as she laughs. "How are you, Frances?"

"Well, Papa!" Frances shrieks as her brother Charles catches up to us, clamouring "Me too! 'Ances, me too!"

"All right, Charlie. Once for you and then we go and find Mama and Annie, okay?"

Charlie nods, so I spin him in the air and then let the children lead me into to the sitting room, where Eleanor is sitting, belly gently rounded by the early stages of pregnancy. At her feet plays our youngest, Anne Brandon, named for our Queen and sister.

"Henry. It's good to see you." Rising, Eleanor dips me a quick half-curtsy before kissing me and asking "Wine?"

"Please. It's been a long ride."

My wife nods and goes to the sideboard to pour me a glass of French claret. "How did you leave Court?"

"Everything as it should be. Prince Alexander is as fine a boy as any man could wish for, and Princess Cecily is completely charming."

"Good. And my sister?" Eleanor hands me the glass as she asks after her older sister.

"Her Majesty is well, though she misses you, darling."

"Well, I'll come back to Court after Christmas. Anne can hold out another two weeks, surely." Eleanor laughs, as she returns to her original position by the fire.

"I think so, though she's as impatient as…"

"As a Boleyn. I know what you were going to say, Henry."

"You always do."

"I've been your wife for six years, Henry. What do you expect?" Eleanor asks and I smile wryly as I pull up the other armchair beside her.

"Oh, Anne wanted me to tell you; she's planning the Prince and Princess's households. She'd like Charles and Frances to be part of it. And maybe Annie, when she's older. After all, it seems there's another royal child on the way."

"Anne's pregnant again?" My wife's eyes flash to mine as I speak.

"It seems so. Let's pray God sends her a Duke of York."

"Please God." Eleanor's voice is fervent. Heartfelt. No one wants her sister to cement the Succession with a second son more than my wife does. I put my hand over hers.

"Forget I said anything, love. Politics is for Court. Let's just enjoy Christmas with the children."

"Yes." Withdrawing her hand from mine, Eleanor heaves Annie on to her lap and smoothes her hair, kissing the crown of our little daughter's head.

Aura Lee
the bird may flee the willow' golden hair
then the wintry winds may be blowing ev'rywhere.
Yet if thy blue eyes I see
gloom will soon depart

for to me
sweet Aura Lee is sunshine to the heart.

A sudden shout jolted me out of my fantasy world. Blinking, I hurried back to the palace, to my place in the King's rooms. I just hoped that, one day, that fantasy would become reality. That one day, I would celebrate Christmas with Eleanor beside me as my Duchess. That one day, she would warm every winter's day for me with her eyes, her voice, her smile. That she would be my Duchess of the Summer Sun and mother to my children. That one day, she, Lady Eleanor Margaret Boleyn, or Lady Eleanor Margaret Rochford, as she was now known, since her father's elevation to Earl of Wiltshire and Ormonde and Viscount Rochford, would be mine forever.