The Other Henry VIII

A Healed Heart is Broken Once More

Sophia was glad that she'd already given birth before. It made her feel comforted, knowing exactly the type of pain that was to come, but this time, she wanted a change. This time, Sophia wanted Henry next to her. She hoped the messenger hurried, before the pain became too unbearable to speak, and before it was too late.
The Queen knew that despite her strong, caring character, that she had a sickly and delicate constitution: this was the reason for her falling ill so quickly after Clara's birth, and the reason for her collapse earlier on in her pregnancy. That was a delicate subject. It had made the courtiers gossip about her and how fragile she was. How aggravating.
I must not fall ill this time.
Sophia felt that if she repeated this to herself over and over again, it might just come true.
Suddenly, her thoughts were disrupted by that horrible pain that she had felt a little in to labour last time, and it made Sophia's eyes screw up and her fist clench around Catherine's fingers.

The hours crawled by, and Diana watched with horror.
If this is what childbirth is, I don't want to ever give birth. Even if it's with  the King's son!
She kept telling herself that she despised the Queen, and she wanted her to suffer, but Diana knew in her heart of hearts that she felt sympathy. Sympathy for the pain, the pressure of bearing a son, and most of all sympathy for having the fate of the entire kingdom resting on the Queen's shoulders. So much sympathy.
Eventually, gradually, that sympathy leaked out of Diana until she gave in, and took a flannel to wipe Sophia's burning forehead. As she did so, the Queen turned to face her. Diana flinched, expecting Sophia to tell her off, or at least scowl, but instead she just smiled. You could tell by the light in her eyes that she just wanted to say 'thank you'.

From that moment, Diana understood why Henry adored Sophia so much. Her sheer talent to make you feel comfortable in her presence was enough, but there was also her effortless ability to forgive and love without question.
So pure a heart cannot fade, even if its owner does.
That was what Cathy and told her. Now, Diana believed it.

In the palace gardens...
Henry's brain felt like an unravelled ball of thread: it was everywhere.
In his brain, he gathered all his thoughts, memories, information and love about Sophia and prayed that she, his angel sent from heaven, would survive.
So pure a heart cannot fade, even if it's owner does.
He had heard Catherine Starling telling Diana Westerly that about his Queen. It was a conceptual sentence, if short, and it made Henry think. He had fallen in love with Sophia for many reasons—one being her complex personality: her trusting nature; her seemingly strong, but soft and kind character; her moderate temper and that feeling of safety she emitted like a glow.

Henry wasn't sure about many things in this world, but he knew at least one thing for certain.
He loved Sophia. And Clara, too.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"called out a breathy voice from behind. The King spun round and saw a scrawny messenger scampering towards him.
"What is it now?"he snarled. Henry hadn't meant it to come out like that, but there you go.
"Her Majesty is calling for you— she is in a truly bad state. The physician says she needs comforting, and he said to find you.
"How may hours has she been in labour?"questioned Henry, wondering why the boy looked so worried.
"About seven or so, Sire, but the ladies and the midwives say that she will still have a least another ten or so hours to go!"cried the poor boy, and Henry finally decided to go to his wife's side.
Or at least, outside her room.
On the way, he thought of his son that would soon arrive in the world.
Henry, George or Edward?

In Sophia's chamber...
"Henry? Where's Henry?"cried Sophia, and the ladies around her looked worried.
"He cannot come in, My Lady, but we did send a messenger to fetch him..."faltered Diana awkwardly. She dreaded childbirth now.
Sophia screamed with pain and clutched Cathy's hand tightly. Mary stroked Sophia's hair and gently dabbed her burning forehead with a damp cloth. Lucy knelt at Sophia's side holding her other hand and praying for a safe delivery.
They all seemed so busy and Diana felt useless as she stood next to the midwife who was occupied too. It didn't seem like a place that she, Diana Westerly, the charmer of men, should be.

It was beginning to grow dark outside and candles had to be lit as the labour carried on. Henry paced the corridors outside, sometimes wincing if he heard screams and cries of pain. Nearly the whole court slept, as the hours that the Queen had been in labour slowly increased. 13....14......17.....21....
Finally, at 6am in the morning, Sophia felt near the end.
"Nearly there, My Lady, don't give up!"wept Lucy. Sophia looked exhausted, but she tried to nod.
Then, there was an odd noise, one that Sophia was not familiar with.
Silence.

The midwife wrapped the baby in cloth and all the ladies gathered around.
"What is it?"asked Sophia, "what's wrong?"
The five other women all turned and looked at her with a pitiful expression, and Sophia propped herself on her elbows to see.
"My Lady, I'm so sorry,"said Cathy in a shaky voice. The bundle of cloth was carried away, and Sophia gasped.
"What is it? Tell me!"
The four ladies gazed at each other, then Cathy whispered, "your child did not........did not survive the birth."
"You mean..."faltered Sophia, trying to work out what they were saying. "That..."
"Oh My Lady! I am so sorry,"howled Mary, falling to her knees.
"It was a stillborn, wasn't it?"sighed Sophia. "Tell me!"
"Yes, My Lady. It was.....it was born dead. I am sorry."
"Don't tell me you're sorry! It won't bring it back!"cried Sophia and burst into tears. "Get out! Get out!" Her ladies looked flustered, but obediently left the room and Sophia curled up on her bed and let tears leak out of her eyes until there were no more.