The Other Henry VIII

I Should Never Have

A/N: this chapter is set a year later, mainly because I want to move on and nothing much exciting happens in this year. Diana has had another healthy daughter, Esther, and the Scots are plotting to invade England.

25 June 1519
Queen Diana of England, pale, drained, exhausted and unhappy, was seated on her throne awaiting the arrival of her brother and his family. She was not much accustomed to greeting guests, nor was she used to seeing people in exile return late, but the Queen assured herself of her abilities, and had told Henry that she would take care of it.
She smoothed out the cream gown over her lap impatiently, each little jewel and embroidery glinting as she pulled it towards the light. The heat was becoming unbearable, but at least she had worn the satin instead of the velvet.
Suddenly, the doors swung open in front of her, and a fat little herald with a scarlet hat announced "Her Royal Highness the Princess Margaret, John Westerly: Lord Rochford. Diana sat up straight, putting on her pleasing face as quickly as the bored one had disappeared, and smiled at the guests rather icily.
Princess Margaret was certainly still glowing, curly auburn hair clashing violently with a sapphire and yellow gown, but her flawless white face had matured somewhat as if it had realised what hardship is.
John looked as roughly handsome as always though, towering above his wife, but Diana detected a slight change in the way he stood and acted. Perhaps that was the effects of being the head of a family, and a father.
"Brother,"said Diana coldly,
"Your Majesty,"replied John, bowing, but his wife remained upright.
"Why do you not bow before me?"asked Diana, biting her lip.
"I am a Princess,"answered Margaret indifferently.
"And I am a Queen,"Diana shot back, glaring at the woman who used to be her friend.
"We used to be friends,"sighed Margaret, reading the Queen's mind in a flash. Changing her tone, she called out "come along, Lucinda!"
Through the doors came a plump, pale woman, (Lucinda, decided Diana) clutching a little white bundle, who curtsied upon seeing Diana and her mistress, and came to stand on the other side of John.

"Who is Lucinda?"asked Diana politely, studying the new girl with much disgust
"She is the nursemaid and wet-nurse,"answered John, "of our little Henry." He smiled at Margaret, sharing their secret.
At this, Diana stood up and marched over to Lucinda, until she looked straight down at the nursemaid.
"Your baby?"she cried in a surprised tone, trying to catch a glimpse of the little child between the protective blankets.
"Yes."
The Queen shook her head repeatedly, stepping back, her eyes like snakes eyes.
She threw back her head and screamed "HENRY!"

After a few pages and Catherine had rushed forwards to calm their temperamental mistress, and the King had been painstakingly summoned from his meeting, all four of them stood in the throne room. In silence.

Henry's POV
I am very angry with Diana, for a number of reasons. For example, she is growing more and more short-tempered every day, screaming and shouting, and getting wound up for no reason. I mean, I can tend to do that when people disrespect me, but when there is no reason...
Then, there are the children. I have now got three daughters: Clara has just turned seven, Elizabeth nearing one years old, and Esther is around a month or so. I refuse to see the positive side of things—that they are healthy and growing well—because all I see in my mind is a son.
A son that I don't want off Diana.

Now, she has been shouting for me for goodness-knows-what, and I am very very cross .
My fists are clenched as I enter the throne room, face nearly going red from annoyance; I want to teach my unappreciative wife a lesson. There, in the throne room, stands the three people I expected least to be causing trouble with Diana.
Margaret, John Westerly, and some sort of common woman.
Margaret has changed, yes. I study her face, smiling slightly at the newly-formed lines, but sigh at her Tudor-auburn curls and fearless eyes. Some things will never change.
I stride forwards, remaining as calm as my mind will let me, and raise my eyebrows at Diana. She gives me her 'I'm sick of this' stare, and gestures to the others.