George Boleyn POV
Boleyn Manor
April 11, 1532
The memories flooded my mind as I walked the long halls of Boleyn Manor. It's been five years since my father passed away, taking so much of my life with him. I thought that the grief I had felt then was unbearable, but now, it seems I am about to experience a new level of sorrow.
My wife, Verona, passed away fourteen years ago, and now my beloved sister Anne has been taken from me from the sweating sickness. two months ago. I can feel my heart break just thinking about her.
I take a few moments of silence as I reflect on the many memories that Anne and I shared. We were incredibly close, and she taught me so much about life. Her fiery spirit and enthusiasm for life were the things that made her so special and so incredibly dear to me.
I may be grieving now, but I know my sister is looking down on me from above, with a smile and a reassuring nod that she is at peace. Though my sadness may linger, I take comfort in that knowledge and embrace the memories that will stay with me always.
I knelt in silence at the edge of my estate, Boleyn Manor, the grand manor he had built for my beloved first wife, Verona, years ago. April 11, 1532, marked the anniversary of the death of my 12 children. My heart ached with sorrow and pain for I had lost them all to the mysterious happenings at Boleyn Manor.
I quickly erase the tears of sorrow and rage that tried to escape my tear-filled eyes and took a deep breath. I thought of all the good memories shared between me and my children, the laughter, the fun, and the love I had for them. I was coming to terms with the fact that my first wife, Verona, would never get to experience the same joys as a mother.
My gaze shifts to the entrance of Boleyn Manor: my grand estate, rich with love and affection, tragedy and sorrow. It was in this place that my children had died a few short years ago now.
I never knew then, nor did I know till this day, what the cause of their death was. My heart was still besieged with grief and guilt as I realize that I had never known the truth.
Until this day, I had never had an inkling of what had caused their mysterious death. I had thought that my second wife, Galina, had poisoned his children accidently. But I had been so wrong. It was due to her determination and hope to have her heir, Emmett, who had died alongside his other children, Jasper, Marcus, Carlisle, Verona, Minerva, Carlotta, Evanna and Amora, all killed due to the plague.
The tragedy and sorrow of that day seemed like a distant dream, but the pain and guilt that lingered in my heart had continued to remain alive.
I stroked the golden ring that I always wore as a reminder of my lost children and continued in my silent prayers in remembrance of them, knowing I could never have them back.
I now focused my attention on my family I had currently: my third wife, Elizabeth Boleyn nee Talbot, daughter of George Talbot, 4th Earl of Shrewsbury and our five children - Arthur, Violet, George, Eliza and Isabella - whom I cherished and protected from any harm that might befall them. I dedicated my life to teaching them the importance of values and the right behavior so that they may be able to face the world and its challenges with a strong heart.
As I stood at the entrance of Boleyn Manor, it seemed as though I had made peace with my past. On this day of sorrow, I hoped to protect my beloved children and would lay down my life to do so.
The Boleyn Manor is a sprawling manor situated in Suffolk, England, a testament to the success of the Boleyn family for centuries. However, that is all about to change as I, Lord George Boleyn stand in the grand hallway, my thoughts regarding the future of our family firmly etched on my mind.
Looking up at the portraits that hang on the wall, a reminder of my past and present family members, my mouth curls into a frown. My half-brother, Richard is in Germany, married to Princess Gertrude, my half-brother, Michael is in Portugal married to a princess Abigail, my half-sister, Giselle is in Ireland married to Seamus O'Caden, Duke of Limerick, my half-brother William is in France married to Fiona Kingsley, my half-sister, Aria is in Spain, married to Andrew Potter, and my deceased stepmother Diana's son, Gabriel is in Scotland, married to Ursula Pole, and her daughter, Roselia is in France, married to Derek Brandon, Charles Brandon's son.
Garrett, my half-brother, was married to the Princess Joana of Portugal and was leading an adventurous life. Harold was married to the beautiful Sage Black, daughter of the Duke of Cork, and had found a prosperous life in Ireland. Thomas was married to Grace Black, cousin of the King of England, and was living a life of courtly grandeur.
Diana was well-matched for the Duke of Bath, Hadrian White and had gone to live in France. Marco too had taken his French bride, Annette Gavin, and they were living a quiet life in the French countryside. Nadine had found a life of her own in Spain, her husband Gaston Wilson being a prominent member of Spanish society. Meanwhile, Kaelan had ventured north and was married to Anne of Cleves, a German princess, in Dusseldorf. Angelus had found his bride in Spain, the Princess Joanna. Elizabeth had done them proud and gone to Bristol, her husband, Duke Harold Legume, being of considerable wealth. Magdalene had taken her own path and found matrimonial bliss in Wallachia, her husband, Neagoe Basarab, being a prince.
Yes, I had much to be proud of. My family had grown and spread over the continent, and each one of them had found their place in society, due in no small part to my father's efforts on our behalf. I smiled in contentment as I looked out on the sprawling Boleyn estate, grateful for all I and my family had accomplished.
Beaumont Bête POV
Bête Manor, England
May 1, 1532
I lay in bed with my wife Belle and smiled as her hands strayed across my chest. We'd been married for four months, and I'd never felt so close to anyone.
The moonlight cascaded through the window, its rays illuminating the bed and sending a peaceful tranquility throughout the room. I could feel her warmth, and I moved closer unconsciously, just to get even closer to her. The love I felt for her was palpable, almost surreal.
I felt her press herself closer to me as she looked up with soft, inviting eyes. I leaned in and kissed her, and I swear I could feel the spark between us growing and spreading like wildfire.
We embraced each other and lost ourselves in the moment. I reveled in the pleasure of her touch, the feel of her skin and her smell. We whispered of forever, of an eternity spent together, and it felt as though the world was ours.
We made love that night, not knowing that this simple act would eventually lead to the birth of a child. A child with blue eyes, blonde hair, and a gracefulness that could only come from a monarch.
Little did we know that this child would be the reincarnation of the late Queen of England, Nadine Plantagenet nee Black. We'd never know the truth, and that was just as well, for none could resist the beauty of our daughter.
Belle Bête nee Angouleme POV
Our life in the Bête Manor is peaceful, but it is tinged with sadness due to the loss of my in-laws. I always feel as if I am missing the moments that other families share, especially when we talk about my in-laws. I have yet to meet them again in person, and all I know of them is through stories.
My mother-in-law Anne passed away two months ago from the sweating sickness. It seemed like such a cruel way for her to die. She was a prominent member of the court and had been seen as somewhat of a visionary in the past. Her death left the entire family reeling.
My father-in-law William was killed by an assassin, a tragedy which left everyone in shock. He had been a beloved member of the Bête family, and his death was felt by all.
My sister-in-law Isabella is in Scotland married to Henry Pole, with two children, a girl and a boy that are named Mina and Tom. I heard from my husband that they are a happy family, although I have never met them.
I stared out at the gardens of Bête Manor, still in shock at the news that had arrived by courier yesterday. My beloved husband's sister Verona was expecting her first child in the summer.
Verona lived in Ireland with her husband, Henry Fitzroy, and for months I had wondered if they would ever start a family. But now it was happening, yet the news seemed strangely bittersweet.
I had always idolized Verona, desperate to be like her in every way. But then I had married her brother – a thought which should have made us closer but had ultimately driven us apart.
Verona had gone to Ireland to wed the wealthy Fitzroy family and I to wed her brother in England. The way things had gone between us was not what either of us had expected.
I looked out the window of my room in Bête Manor, my mind wandering to George, my husband's brother. He had left for Ireland weeks earlier, eager to make a new life for himself with his new bride, Serenity Brandon - the daughter of Charles Brandon.
I had been hopeful for George, wishing him the very best as he left on his journey, but as the weeks dragged on, my mind filled with doubt and worry. What if they encountered hardship along the way? What if Serenity wasn't all that George had thought she would be?
Raphael, my husband's brother, had gone to Spain and married Diana Seymour. Richard, my husband's other brother, had gone to France and married Cassandra Black. Joseph and Ezekiel, my husband's younger brothers, had also gone to Spain and France respectively and married Sasha Cromwell and Aurora Brandon.
Fiona, my husband's older sister, had married Francis, Duke of Guise and moved to France. Elizabeth, another of my husband's sisters, had married Sebastian, Earl of Nassau and moved to Germany. Ruby had gone to Turkey and married Suleiman, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. Lastly, Scarlette had gone to Russia and married the Tsar, Tsar Yuri Makarov.
Though I knew my husband's siblings were happy in their respective lives, I couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness without them. I missed the thought of them all so dearly, but I had to be content with knowing that each of them was living a prosperous life and that I had granted them the opportunity to make their own way in the world.
Mary Boleyn POV
June 3, 1532
Seymour Manor
As I reflect upon my numerous accomplishments as the widow of both Francois Angouleme and Edward Seymour, my children come to soul.
Cecily, born November 3rd, 1515, is in Germany with her husband, Edmund, the Duke of Cleeves. Elizabeth, born January 1, 1513, is married to King James V of Scotland. Lucien, born November 3rd, 1515, wed Anita Seymour nee Girona while here in England.
My Alexander, born January 14, 1514, lives in France with wife Rachel Angouleme nee Plantagenet. Anthony, born January 14, 1514, is with his bride, Meghan Angouleme nee López in Spain. George, born December 1, 1514, is married to Marie Angouleme nee Karkaroff in Russia. My Draco, born December 1, 1514, is in Germany with his wife, Friederike Angouleme nee Fürstenberg. James, born December 1, 1514, is married to Aysun Angouleme nee Kocaman in Turkey.
Ruth, my child born November 3rd, 1515, is in Ireland married to Lord Louis O'Donnell. Thomas, born November 3rd, 1515, married Grace Seymour nee Preston also in Ireland. Nicholas, born November 3rd, 1515, resides in Germany with his wife, Nadine Seymour nee Herbert.
My own son Edward, born October 14th, 1516, ventured to Portugal with his wife, Emília Seymour de Albuquerque. Jonathan, born October 14th, 1516, married Sabrina Seymour nee Tarasova in Russia, while William, born October 14th, 1516, is with Fiona Seymour nee Wiltshire in Belgium. Anne, born October 14th, 1516, wed Pedro de Maribon in Spain, and Nadine, born October 14th, 1516, is with her groom, Lorenzo Del Prete in Italy.
Finally, I reflect upon the surprise Edward gave me before his death in the war—our miracle triplets born January 13, 1518. Marcus Seymour is here with his wife Ingrid Seymour nee de Aller. Katherine Deveraux nee Seymour is in France with Pier de Deveraux, while Rebecca Shelburne nee Seymour, is with her groom, Edward Shelburne in England.
I thank God for my children and their many accomplishments. I pray daily for them to remain safe and lead happy lives no matter where they are.
Thomas Boleyn POV
June 5, 1532
Thomas Boleyn's residence
I stepped into the great hall of my residence on June 5, 1532. The light streaming through the tall, glorious windows touched the dusty stones of the ancient walls, and I thought of my family as I took in the setting.
My father, Thomas Boleyn, had been so strong and proud here. I'd been so young when he'd passed away five years ago, but I could still remember how his presence had filled this place. My mother Odette had been left widowed by his death, but soon after, I had married Grace Black, becoming cousin-in-law to King George I.
The life Grace and I had found at this residence was beyond anything I could have imagined growing up. We had a beautiful home, and I had made a name for myself in the courts of England, having served in many roles of importance.
But with this prestige, came a certain weight. As I scored my bare feet across the stones, I remembered the responsibility that came with my place in life and of the many ways I could use my power to be responsible and to serve others.
These were my father's values, something I had come to truly understand in the years since his death. I could not bring him back, but I could carry on his legacy through the work I did and the life I lived.
So, as I stood in the great hall of my residence, I looked up toward the brilliant sky and said a small prayer of thanks to my late father and a prayer for his legacy, which, I feel certain, will continue to bless and influence us all.