The Other Henry VIII

Thoughts from the Heart

Henry did not know what to do exactly, so he just sat there holding Sophia's hand watching life slowly drain from her body. It was heart-breaking, but something told him not to leave.
"Go,"he said to the ladies, and once alone, he leant over his pale wife and brushed his lips against hers. Henry missed her warm smiles and innocent energy. He missed her headstrong arguments and her silent appearance. Where had that strong woman he had fallen in love with gone?

He thought back to the hopeful families at court offering their foolish, childish daughters for his mistress, most of around 14 or 15 or sometimes even 13 years old. Their faces all seemed the same, merged together, all with dark innocent eyes and straight dark hair combed into a hairstyle that tried and failed to make the girl seem more interesting.
So many names that were identical and meaningless, like Mary or Catherine or Anne.
The King wasn't sure why the families offered their daughters. Didn't they know he did not want another mistress in his life? Certainly not when his last one made his wife nearly lose the baby.

He loved the complexity of Sophia's personality, and the fact that she did not offer herself to him or flirt loudly when in his presence. The King knew he had broken his wife's heart, and now she was breaking his.
"Henry,"gasped Sophia suddenly, and the distracted monarch leaned in to hear her.
"Don't look so sad, Henry. Watching you for the last minutes has been ever so depressing." She took his hand in hers and kissed it. "Henry, your heart! It's breaking."

The colour seemed to return to her cheeks, as Sophia sat up brightly. Her eyes shone and glittered merrily with an energetic spark in them. The King gasped and pulled her into his arms.
"I will never desert you, my love. Never."

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And so the Queen recovered, just. The whole kingdom rejoiced, and tore away their sadness for celebration. The Calais rebels had been fought back and all was peaceful. Sophia finally met Clara, and the two were happy. That was where their story should end. Many wish it did.
But it goes on.

23 May 1513
Sophia lay in her bedchamber.
She brought up her legs to her chest and hugged them. Since she had recovered from the puerperal fever, the King had refused to bed her as she was 'getting her strength back' and 'might need some time to relax'.
It had been nearly a year since her child was born, and though Sophia loved Clara, she knew the King expected a son.
But how am I to conceive a son when he won't even try to bed me?

Just then, the door to her chamber creaked open and Henry appeared at the door. He shut it quietly and crept towards her bed softly. Sophia lay still, her breath scarce, as he bent over her and kissed her forehead.
Then the bridge of her nose.
Then the tip of her nose.
Then her lips.
Then her chin.
Her neck.
Lower.....
Maybe we will have a son after all...

14 July 1513
Henry was bored.
His wife was still not pregnant, a year and one month after her recovery. What if she could not conceive another child after her long labour and fever?
Don't think about it!
But Henry couldn't help thinking about it. He adored his wife: she was beautiful, but also intelligent and regal.
The perfect Queen.

In the corridor...(Sophia's POV)
I strode down the corridor with ease. I wanted so much to see my daughter, as I had not seen Clara since her birthday. Behind me were my four ladies in waiting, the newest one named Lady Siltia Jacques, a French girl brought in temporarily to teach her about life in court before she married.
Suddenly, I felt something odd in the pit of my stomach. I carried on, but it turned into a pain until I couldn't walk a step further. My vision felt blurred and misty and the next minute I knew, I had fainted into Lady Mary's arms and someone had ran for the court physician.

Back in the throne room...
"Your Majesty!"cried a servant, running into the throne room desperately and bowing in front of the King.
"What is it?"asked Henry, sitting up. "Has someone committed suicide?" He laughed and the people around him laughed to. The poor servant shook his head, sweat running down his face.
"No! My Lady Sophia has collapsed, Sire, please come!"
The King's face hardened and he stood up. "Take me to her."