The Other Henry VIII

Some Thoughts from Diana

12 March 1514
Sophia's birthday began, as many important days in her life, very badly. She rolled over on her bed, alone and thoughtful in the dim light creeping through the glass windows. She had been having nightmares about Henry's reaction to her stillborn son, and his disappointed expression as it was buried.
"You cannot lie to me, Sophia! Where is my son?"
"Please Henry, listen, I can't he's dead!"
"No, no. Please, no. Show me, or I will not believe it."
Sophia had felt tears tickle her eyes, and she had sunk onto her bed crying.
The King frowned, and knelt in front of her. "You're not.... You're not lying? My son really is dead? No......"
It didn't end well.

Back to the present....
Sophia moaned a little as she got out of bed, and she sighed at the sight of Henry snoozing next to her.
How soon will it be before I sleep alone permanently? Sophia didn't really know, but it didn't seem very long.
Not long at all....

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Diana felt very frustrated.
The King had been ignoring her for so long, it was madness. How could he refuse her? After that commoner Anna Talbot, she was a diamond waiting to be found. She pondered about how to attract the king's specific attentions, but it was hard—Sophia wasn't old or ugly, or boring, like a Queen that would be easy to get out the way. She was beautiful, though in a different way to Diana—more comforting then flirty, more innocently pretty than going out of her way to look nice, and of course: more kind than attention-seeking.
Diana Westerly thought the King preferred the flirty, attractive and alluring type but she had been wrong. How was she going to make the King love her now? Not when Sophia had given him the great Jewel of the kingdom, Clara. This would take a long time, perhaps years. It had already been nearly a year that Diana had been lady-in-waiting, and time passes so fast—she would soon lose her youth and then no-one would want her, let alone the King.
At 17 years old, Sophia had married, at 18 and 19 years old she had given birth, and here she was turning 20 with the prospect of another pregnancy. And Diana sat meekly in court alone, 19 years old, and completely unmarried. Many men had tried, yes, and if Diana were not at court with her eye on the King, she would have accepted and be married.
It was not to be.
Clara was now nearly two and already Henry was considering marriage for her. Diana knew her mother would have done the same for her, had she not have died in childbirth, but her father would never think of it.
"If I had been betrothed so young, I would never have met him...."sighed Diana dreamily, gazing out the window in her chamber.
"Pardon?"came a voice from behind the door. "Lady Diana, Her Majesty has woken up and you must escort her down to the birthday celebrations!"
"Yes, of course... What colour is the Queen wearing?"
The voice hesitated then replied "red and gold, my Lady." And the silence that followed told Diana that whoever had been outside her door was gone.
"How aggravating! Red and gold suits me best, but of course the Queen must be the only one wearing her choice of colours..."
"Haven't you forgotten to ask me something?"said the voice, and Diana jumped.
"Erm....... Oh yes, what are the other ladies wearing?"said Diana, thoughtfully. She knew that Catherine and Lucy loved purple or lilac, and Mary preferred yellow, but Diana loved red.
Like Sophia.
"The other ladies have chosen green, my lady. Good day." And retreating footsteps told Diana that the owner of the voice as gone.

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Sophia gracefully walked down to the throne room, surrounded by her four ladies clothed in emerald green and gold. The rich colour suited Catherine and Diana's dark hair, as well as Mary's blond hair, but it really made red-headed Lucy look like a princess. She thought innocently about what Henry might have arranged for her birthday. Most probably a banquet and a ball, like always. She stroked her flat stomach thoughtfully.
I promise that in two months time, I will be carrying another child.
The very thought caused Sophia to smile pleasantly as she entered the throne room.
The King still loved her.
Didn't he?