A/N: Hi, GreenField here. I've wanted to do something for this song for a while, and today I had the perfect idea for it. So, Lady Jane Grey to Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons. Please review!
Touch my mouth and hold my tongue
I'll never be your chosen one
I'll be home, safe and tucked away
You can't tempt me if I don't see the day
"No! No, I won't!"
No-one would expect me, meek and mousey little Lady Jane, to act in this way. The chair that I was sitting on clatters to the floor, knocked by my flying hands.
"You will do as we tell you, Jane" my father insists, his voice cold and determined. He is always determined, he and my mother, always determined to make me obey. Oh, and how I do not wish to obey!
"I shan't marry him. Father, I do not love him, and the Dudleys are a power-hungry bunch of vultures. I cannot marry Guilford, father, please don't make me do it. If I marry Guilford we're just a few steps from the throne, and I cannot make Edward – I mean, his Majesty – feel any unease"
"The King is soon to die" my mother snaps. She is holding the birch rod she always uses on me, the instrument of torture. I can hear the sound it makes as it whistles through the air and cracks on my bare flesh. Fear swallows my voice.
"Treason" I croak, and my mother snorts.
"Treason? We are as much royalty as he is. And we cannot have England run by a Catholic once he is gone. He will appoint you his successor and we can rule a good England, a Godly England, a Protestant England. Do you not wish this for your faith?"
"Of course I do, but my lady mother – "
The rod whips through the space between us and cracks me on the side of my face. I gasp, clapping my hand to my scarlet cheek. The force of the blow has made me fall and I lay on the ground, helpless and bleeding.
"I WILL NOT MARRY HIM!" I scream. I scream this now because I know that, after another round of blows, I will no longer be able to speak, let alone scream. In fact, I may not even be able to breathe. Maybe this is what my parents want.
I see Catherine in the doorway, my little sister, as my mother strikes another blow on my shoulder blade - I am crouched in defence and this is the first thing she reaches. Catherine looks away quickly, scared to be associated with me, and ushers poor limping Mary away.
The pain is unbearable. I cannot think or move, but I have just enough breath left to speak, and I say the words that are the last things my parents want to hear;
"I'll never do it. I'll never marry Guilford and I'll never be Queen. I will not be your vessel"
Everything goes black.
The pull on my flesh was just too strong
It stifles the choice and the air in my lungs
Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
'Cause when I open my body I breathe a lie
When I stir again, both my parents are still standing over me. I prop myself up on an elbow, blood running into my eyes. They have not noticed that I wake; they are speaking in urgent, hurried undertones.
"She must consent" my father hisses, "I have given Dudley my word"
"We'll pull her to the church by her hair if we have to"
"Frances, there must be some reason -she cannot be such a devil as to simply want to disobey us. Is there another that she loves?"
My mother glances down and sees that my eyes are open. Her own eyes narrow and darken.
"You heard your father!" she barks, "Is there?"
I cannot lie. I could never lie, not about my love for him. I sit up straighter, testing my body to see if it is strong enough for the blows that will surely follow my coming confession.
"Yes, my Lady Mother"
I prepare for the blow, but it does not come. My parents are both staring at me, clearly surprised and somewhat alarmed.
"Have you compromised yourself, Jane?" Mother asks suddenly, her voice sharp as the lash of the rod, "Have you?"
"No, no, of course not. He...he knows not of my feelings"
Both of them stare at me some more. Then my mother begins to laugh, a bitter, harsh laugh that makes me more angry than fearful. I rise to my feet, slightly shaken still.
"And why do you laugh at me, my Lady Mother?"
I try to sound regal and I think it works, for she stops in her tracks and eyes me speculatively.
"She'll do it" she says to my wary Father, still eyeing me, "She is not strong. She'll marry Guilford"
I open my mouth to protest again, anger flaring, but Catherine is standing in the doorway behind my mother and she shakes her head frantically, ever the fearful, ever the cautious.
"Stop it, Jane" she mimes, and I halt before I can speak, giving in. Mother gives Father a satisfied nod and the two of them leave the room. As they depart I notice that Catherine, too, has disappeared. Even she is too frightened to help me, my own sister. What chance have I?
I will not speak of your sin
There was a way out for him
The mirror shows not
Your values are all shot
The bells are still clanging dolefully. Just weeks after that incident with my parents, after my marriage to Guilford, King Edward is dead. I saw him once, before he died, just for a moment –I ran towards his bedchamber while my father was speaking with Guilford's father, to try and catch a glimpse of the boy who I loved, the boy who became King of England at only nine years old. He looked even smaller than he had then, wasted away to almost nothing. They pulled me away before I could call to him.
I did not tell my Mother that it is Edward I loved, for she would have laughed, but I think she knows all the same. I am pale and wasted as he was, I barely eat a scrap at meals and I haven't snapped at Guilford once since that last sighting. And now the bells tell me that he has, finally, breathed his last.
Red-eyed, I rise to look at myself in the looking-glass. My parents tell me that we must leave this house now – we are to meet the Dudleys for some special meeting, and I am sure that I know what will come to pass.
Edward has named me his heir. I do not know it for certain, but I overheard a conversation which sounded very similar between Catherine and my mother earlier on. It makes me feel sick to think of it.
Looking at my reflection, I try to imagine the crown of Saint Edward resting on top of my mousey hair, but I cannot. I am sixteen years old, I don't know how to be a Queen. I don't want to be a Queen.
But they will not let me rest until I accept the crown.
But oh, my heart was flawed
I knew my weakness
So hold my hand
Consign me not to darkness
My husband enters my room as I am contemplating what to do – my husband Guilford, who hates me almost as much as I hate him. He is handsome, to be sure – I have seen Catherine eyeing him surreptitiously, despite the fact that she is very happy with her new husband – but he knows nothing of the world. He is not learned, he is not kind – he is ignorant, boorish, he eats his food as though he thinks someone is waiting to swipe the plate from him the second he pauses in his meal. My Mother says I do not like him because I was determined not to – she struck me on the cheek to emphasise the point – but that is not it. If Guilford Dudley were the last man on earth, I would not love him, and that is the truth of it.
"We have to leave now" he speaks, too, like a sullen child. How could I ever love him in the same way as Edward when the two of them are so very, very different? But maybe Guilford can help me, maybe he might try –
"You know as well as I do that I am unfit to be Queen, Guilford. You are my husband. Command me to stay and I cannot go. You have only to speak the words"
He studies me, almost with interest, "I don't know how fit to be a Queen you are, wife. But I do know that I am in line to be a King, all thanks to your Royal blood. And that is not a chance that I will throw away"
Anger flares inside me, the anger that Catherine has always told me I should try to suppress – it seems to get me into so much trouble.
"You think I will make you King? I tried to ask for your help, Guilford, and God knows I have tried to love you and to understand you, but you stop me at every turn – and now you want to be King! It cannot be borne. It will not be borne"
So crawl on my belly
'til the sun goes down
I'll never wear your broken crown
I took the road and I fucked it all away
Now in this twilight how dare you speak of grace
We are in the hall at Westminster. The Lords are watching me, the courtiers that my father has managed to win over, the Dudleys and, of course, my parents.
"King Edward, God rest his soul, named you his heir on his deathbed" Norfolk paces around me; I feel trapped, and short of breath, "Will you accept the crown?"
"No"
The reply, unexpected by everyone but my family and myself, rings out loudly in the large room. Several women gasp. My father steps forward.
"She knows not what she is saying" he says briskly, moving towards me, "King Edward was her cousin and she has been greatly moved by his passing. My daughter would not, of course, wish to ignore her dear cousin's last wishes"
"I would also not wish to ignore the wishes of my uncle, good King Henry. His last will and testament state that, after King Edward, God rest his soul, the Princess Mary – Queen Mary – should succeed if there are no issue. And there are not. Therefore, Queen Mary should succeed to the throne"
"King Edward, God rest his soul, was the last ruling monarch, therefore it is his wishes that must be accepted" my father speaks through gritted teeth, "You will do it, Jane. For Edward and for England"
"And for you" I retort coldly. My father does not usually strike me, but I can sense that he would like to at this moment. His face is mottled with red.
"That is no matter. It is your duty to Edward and to our religion to accept the crown" he lowers his voice, "We know that you loved him. Don't you wish to honour his memory?"
His words sting as though he has struck me, "You cannot possibly know how I felt about him. And I have done my duty by marrying Guilford. I will do no more"
"It is your duty" my father repeats, louder than before.
The room goes very, very quiet. I turn away from them all, trying to block them out, but their silence is somehow more deafening than if they were all shouting at the tops of their voices.
Take the crown, Jane.
My spine stiffens, suddenly. Did I imagine it, the voice of Edward rising from his grave? Or did I not? Was it real?
Do it for our faith, Jane. I have put my trust in you.
I definitely did not imagine that second time. I gasp, and reach out to grasp the arm of the throne to steady myself. Several people murmur excitedly.
I won't do it.
I can't do it.
I will do it.
So crawl on my belly 'til the sun goes down
I'll never wear your broken crown
I can take the road and I can fuck it all away
But in this twilight our choices seal our fate