Winter On The Weekend
'I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liars chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair'
Hurt by Johnny Cash
Winchester Cathedral, 1486
The room was boiling, the rich velvet tapestries smothered any chance of cool fresh breeze from the rainy September weather outside. The air was salty and the scent of blood and sweat seared Alice's nostrils.
Bright green eyes gazed round the spacious rooms, searching out the solemn faces of the other individuals in the room. The Queen was in labour, but it was too early for the baby's arrival.
Having been at the birth of more than forty-odd babes, Alice was not averse to the gore than was childbirth. But the thought that she was dealing with a birth of an heir made her breath hitch in her throat. As a midwife, she had seen countless premature births but there was little chance of survival. The babes were often unable to swallow their milk properly and easily got cold and sick.
The Queen's quiet whimpers were increasing in volume and Alice could see her milky skin redden with exertion. A willowy blonde with a beautiful but aging face was sat by the bed, holding the hands of the Queen and whispering what Alice thought was words of encouragement.
Alice briskly knelt on the bed and lifted the silk sheets, checking the progress of the labour.
"It's time to push now. We shall stay on the bed to make sure you are comfortable. We want little pushes and if I say to stop, you must listen" Alice commanded, her voice shaking slightly. She had decided not to move the Queen to the birthing chair that she was supposed to labour on and instead she gave her a caudle to drink.
Two ladies, in matching cream gowns to signal their roles as attendants of her Grace, paced the carpet by the bed. One was willowy and had warm blue eyes and the same golden locks as the Queen. Alice presumed it was a relative, perhaps one of the Queen's many sisters. Cecily, she thought her name was.
The other was young and small, with heavy set brown eyes and a sad expression. Her dark hair was pulled back by a coif and her hands worried at the cross upon her neck. Alice knew that one, she had been the one to fetch Alice. Margaret...Margaret Plantagenet.
"Mistress Plantagenet, would you take this please" Alice directed, handing a heavy gold chalice to the teenager. Margaret's eyes searched Alice's green ones, thankful to be given a job, her small hands clutching at the chalice containing honey wine that would be given to the babe to make them stronger.
Cecily held the golden silk shawl that the babe would be wrapped in, her lips set in a thin line.
The Queen let out a shrill shriek, grasping at her mother's hand, her blue eyes, said to be a copy of the late Edward IV's, widened in pain as she pushed with all her might.
The burning pain must have begun to subside as the Queen quietened, her eyes fixed solely on the loud wails of the infant in her sister's arms. She watched as Alice quickly checked the babe over, noting the flushed pink skin colour.
The Queen carefully watched as Margaret gave the babe some of the honey wine and Cecily quickly wrapped the infant in the golden shawl and held the child closely to her. She barely noticed Alice's massage on her aching stomach or the passing of the placenta. As her ladies slowly got her up, switched the sheets for clean ones and changed into a simple cotton shift, all she could focus on was the pink, squirming bundle in Cecily's arms.
Cecily stepped forwards, smiling widely at her older sister as she passed over the infant. Alice was in the corner checking the placenta over.
"Your Grace, meet your son", her mother's voice rang out, cutting through the silence in the room.
Elizabeth's heart soared, she had done it. She had safely delivered England's heir, a son who would help heal the rifts of his father's country. The babe was tiny, much like a doll, and he was early, but he was healthy.
Elizabeth admired the tuft of matted red hair on his head, his tiny fingers that clutched hers, his rosebud lips. She felt her breath hitch as his eyes opened, all squinty as he peered at her. He had the same sea blue eyes as her husband.
Elizabeth tenderly stroked her son's cheek, delighted as he began quidding. Softly she whispered, "Arthur, my dear Arthur".
XX
Notes: This is a prologue to the story. I haven't updated in ages due to many things: moving in to a new house, running around after my child and starting my social work degree at university.
I could promise to update more but I'm not going to as I don't want to have to break that. Instead I will reiterate that I have NOT abandoned this story and I gradually add to it if you can bear with me.
Please feel free to message me with any questions and I am always looking for ideas so if you have a way you want this to go, let me know.
Disclaimer - I do not own Showtime's The Tudors or any of the characters, I do not own the actors (or Henry Cavill would be my husband!) and I do not own history.
My fancasts are (characters who are children have their adult fancasts):
Elizabeth Of York (born 11/02/1466) - Freya Mavor
Henry VII (born 28/01/1457) – Jacob Collins-Levy
Margaret Beaufort (born 31/05/1443) – Michelle Fairley
Arthur Tudor (born 19/09/1486) – Toby Regbo
Margaret Tudor (born 28/11/1489) – Scarlett Johansson
Henry VIII (born 28/06/1491) – Jonathan Rhys Meyers (with auburn hair)
Mary Tudor (born 18/03/1496) – Holliday Grainger
Catalina Of Aragon (born 16/12/1485) – Maria Doyle Kennedy (with auburn hair)
Thomas Boleyn (born 1477) – Nick Dunning
Elizabeth Boleyn (born 1480) – A.J Cook
Mary Boleyn (born 1499) – Anna Popplewell
Anne Boleyn (born 1501) – Natalie Dormer
George Boleyn (born 1504) – David Oakes
John Seymour (born in 1476) – Rupert Graves
Margaery Seymour (born 1478) – Kate Phillips
Edward Seymour (born 1499 in this story, original birth date is 1500) – Max Brown
Thomas Seymour (born 1500 in this story, original birth date is 1508) – Thomas Stanley Holland
Jane Seymour (born 1501 in this story, original birth date is 1508) – Annabelle Wallis
Elizabeth Seymour (born 1504 in this story, original birth date is 1518) – Caitlin Stasey
Dorothy Seymour (born 1505 in this story, original birth date is 1515) – Anita Briem
Charles Brandon (born 1490, original birth date is 1484 – Henry Cavill
Jane Parker (born 1505) - Geneviève Bujold