Tudor Rose

xii. expect the worst, hope for the best

May 3, 1519

As a child, I'd heard many stories about Elizabeth of York. Tales of her lavish life as a princess and queen molded my childhood. Sitting at the foot of my mother's bed with Beatrice on one side of me and Lizzie on the other while our mother recounted the two golden years that she spent in the York queen's service were some of my fondest and most peaceful memories I possessed. It was a better, simpler time – Lizzie and I lacing each other into the fanciest gowns we could find while my mother watched intently from the corner and Beatrice sneered at us. She found it amusing, though. Beneath her carefully curated layer of iciness and contemptuousness, Beatrice enjoyed watching us act as though we were the Queens of England.

Alas, the joy came to an end. Story-time turned to lessons, sisters turned to enemies, and my childlike dreams turned to simple memories. All good things, no matter how untouchable and different they seemed, came to an end. And so, the years went on. I watched Beatrice get her heart broken time and time again. I watched my mother crawl further into the shadows. I watched it all with a face of indifference, like the good girl I was trained to be.

And then, in the most poetic way, I watched my life come back in a full circle. Now it was I who sat atop the throne; it was my head that the crown rested upon. My name and life would be the one that mothers told their daughters about. It seemed as though I'd just retired the crown of my childhood when I picked up the real one. All it took was a willy king to take me from the Queen of Cheveley Castle to the Queen of England. And that, in my humblest of opinions, was more than I would ever deserve.

Henry and I ushered in a new pair of princesses, who the entire kingdom doted on. Katherine Tudor, a true and refined princess of controlled smiles and downcast eyes, and Anne Tudor, the raven haired and free-spirited girl that we all secretly longed to be. Perfect as they were, Kate and Anne weren't sons. Their futures were being molded and shaped as if they were made of clay and it was the sad reality of their lives as princesses.

Pawns in their fathers' twisted game of chess, just like me – that's what the two princesses would be reduced to. At first glance, Henry's game was appealing. The jewels, the riches, the glory – it was everything that a young girl dreamed of. But it was built on lies and deceit and there was no honor or glory in that, only a brittle shell of who you previously were. Henry saw me as a pawn, too, and I knew that well. He had me when he wanted me and I was left to brave the dangers of court life on my own the rest of the time. A dreary, miserable existence. A half-life, composed of my life as queen and my own desire.

Sitting at the foot of my four-poster bed were Anne and Kate. Their wide eyes, one pair turquoise and the other brown, stared back at me with a childlike curiosity. Serene moments were nearly impossible to come by, so I had learned to treasure those kinds of moments. Telling my daughters about my upbringing and a life without an overbearing crown brought the sincerest joy to all of us. It was better than any materialistic thing that could've been presented to us. It was the kind of happiness that people spent their whole life scavenging for.

My eyes, which had once been filled with the same naivety as my daughters', wandered to a desk sitting at the corner of the room. The stormy weather cast a shadow of despair upon the room and it made the document sitting atop the piece of furniture much more intimidating than it truly was. It was a scandalous document, one that I'd been avoiding for well over a day. It was a peace accord of sorts, though the most scandalous kind. The curling black letters had two lives in my mind.

The first life was plain – it was simply the accord that it was presented as. In it, I was offered a comfortable life miles and miles from court so long as I renounced my queenship and the claim to the throne that my daughters bore. I'd never want for anything according to the treaty. My family would be sustained, as well. Lucy kept the duchy for herself, my father kept his earldom and the other titles he'd been granted... it seemed that all would be well. That was far from the truth, though.