Now, contrary to what you may believe, I did love my brother. He was one of the only people I had in my family that seemed to love me. We were much closer in age, thus making it easier for us to be near each other. Edward was Protestant such as I, and I only ever felt safe when I was with him. He was my darling little brother. But as fate would have it, he died an early death.
The day of his birth (The twelfth of October, 1537) was a day of celebration, but I do not remember much of it for I was only six years of age. Not only did I gain a sibling, the kingdom gained an heir. But the two weeks following his birth were tragic for mistress Seymour. She later died on the twenty fourth of October. I do remember feeling pity for Edward, for he would never meet his mother. But at the same time, I felt relief that I didn't have to acknowledge my mother's replacement as Queen.
As much as I tried not to, I will admit there was a small time after he was born that I resented him. And maybe there is a small part of me that still does. How could I not?
His mother took my mother's place as Queen. She was loved while my mother's portraits were destroyed. She had a proper funeral, while my mother's body is supposedly buried beneath the Chancel pavement in an unmarked grave.
How is this fair? Supposedly my mother had one of her miscarriages when she saw mistress Seymour on the lap of the king. And yet she was to blame for the loss of the babe. Father only seemed to be happy after my brother was born. As though my existence, even Mary's existence, was nothing compared to that of the first born prince. Now that is not to say we were completely neglected, for I know that father did truly love his daughters as well. But it was no secret he wished we had been born males.
And yet through all of that, my relationship with Edward was one of the most wonderful and pure things that has ever happened to me. I knew that when he became king I would not be harmed. He wouldn't see me as competition for the throne, but as his older sister who loved him dearly.
The day of his passing was one I shall always remember, he had only been king for six years and then the tuberculosis that had been tormenting him, finally made him take his last breath.
He was only a child,
Yet he was given the throne.
His health was deteriorating,
And he left me alone.
YOU ARE READING
I am My Mother's daughter
Historical FictionI look back at the memories of people that have told me I would never be seen as a princess, much less the Queen of England. My brother Edward VI and my sister Mary I were before me in the line for the throne, so I had no intent of being the queen...
