The Other Henry VIII

Life is Too Short

Trying not to let a smile creep onto her face, Anne Starling watched the King sprint out of the room like a squirrel, leaving behind the Westover girl kneeling on the floor with the unconscious princess in her arms. She knew not to break the silence. Instead, her mind began to process what she had witnessed tonight.

Anne's great-uncle and great-grandfather had informed her multiple times that the King would marry a Westover girl almost certainly; the plan to put she herself on the throne was a long-term one, much like Diana had been. However, the Starlings had not expected the King to select Leia Westover, the stubborn widow. Perhaps this would affect their schemes a little, thought Anne, though not outrageously. And, after all that happened tonight, the Westover widow would do herself away by refusing the King. Yes, that would be convenient. She tried to catch her mother's eye from across the room but Jane Saxby simply turned away wearily.

At last, the courtiers burst into full conversation as the servants darted forwards to assist their princess, allowing Anne to move towards her family without anyone paying her too much attention. Firstly, she reached her great-uncle Sir James, who had a queer, contemplative expression on his face.
"I—" she began, eyes bright and eager to confer with him.
"Not now please, Anne. Not tonight," was the sombre reply. Following a quick glance over his great-niece's shoulder, Sir James pushed firmly through the crowd and disappeared. She frowned: why was he not listening to her? Was it not partly his idea to take note of the Westover girls? What else did he expect her to do?
Still disgruntled, Anne slipped past a couple of minor Cavills and came upon her mother and great-grandfather. They, too, seemed out of sorts.
"My Lord, may—"
"Not here, Anne. Let us return to our apartments." The Duke of Norfolk made to leave but paused when he observed Jane's reluctance. "Jane, we are doing this for the good of you and our family. She is your daughter." His voice was heavy and pressing, Anne noticed, probably to make her mother feel guilty.

With a resigned, melancholy gaze at her daughter, Jane Saxby sighed deeply. The people around them were dispersing. She turned to her grandfather, with his stony eyes and weathered face.
"You have corrupted her. My daughter. You have corrupted her," Jane murmured calmly. "She was your pawn from the day she was born and I accepted that. Please do not expect me to be a gentle and attentive mother now, when I have finally learnt to keep my love to myself."

"You are being foolish, Jane. You could be mother of the Queen of England," scolded her grandfather, barely louder than a whisper.
"Precisely."
Anne watched her mother wander away with pursed lips, fidgeting her fingers behind her back.
"Be like Leia Westover, Anne. Be independent and clever about your situation. Know what is coming and how to draw the King's attention. You are destined for greatness. Now, return to our rooms and do not speak to your mother. Do you understand me?"
Anne nodded solemnly and obeyed, trying to conceal the swollen pride that the Duke's words had instigated.

As she skipped back to the Starling apartments, she passed the royal nursery in which Princess Esther lay suffering.
Around her bed stood Henry, his sister and John Westerly. None said a word, for the physician's words had silenced the three of them: if Esther lived to dawn unassisted, she would survive. It was simply a waiting game. After another few minutes, the King sunk into an armchair and buried his face in his hand in agitation. The sight of his poor little daughter, lying there looking so frail and small compared to the large double bed, had struck a nerve somewhere within him. This was not like all of those stillbirths and miscarriages. This time, he knew and loved Esther from the depths of his heart.
"Henry..." whispered Margaret softly, touching her brother on the shoulder.
"I despise this. I despise being powerless like this. I am the King of England! Why... why must I sit here and watch the life drain out of my daughter? Why does everyone die, Margaret? Why do they all leave me?"