(Idea came to me the other day, when I was daydreaming in a lecture. Really not sure about it, now it's on paper. Please let me know what you think)

'She young, Henry,' Lady Margaret Beaufort said in her usual emotionless voice, as she sat down in the window seat of her son, the King's, office. Knowing that the two of them were completely alone in the chamber, she flashed a rare smile as she watched King Henry VII, her only child, with his head bent over the account books, hard at work. He had become obsessed with the country's accounts since the death of Elizabeth of York, the Queen Consult; it was the only thing, which took his mind off of his heartbache but Margaret was a practical woman, her four marriages were a testament to that, things needed to go on as before, 'and you are still young, Henry,'

'Mother,' replied Henry, quickly and rather too sharply for the tone he usually spoke to his mother, the only person on God's Earth whom he trusted with his life, 'Elizabeth has been dead for only two months,'

Lady Margaret Beaufort sighed. She did not deny her cherished son, his love for his wife-she was not as cold hearted as her enemies liked to think. She was only human, a daughter of Eve, but she was a woman, who did not let emotions cloud the important business of government. Elizabeth of York had been a good wife, mother and Queen, and in the last years of her short life, Margaret had come to hold a respect and admiration for her, (as long, as she did not over step the mark). But Margaret was a woman, who had dedicated her life to putting Henry on the throne and now, with poor young Arthur dead as well, the throne of England was once again looking weak and Lady Margaret Beaufort was not about to let her life's work, slip through her family's fingers.

'I know Henry and may she rest in peace with the angels,' Margaret spoke, crossing herself as she did so, before getting to her feet and walking towards her son's desk in that regal way of her's, which she had rehearsed to perfection, long before Henry had been crowned, 'but your Highness, I speak to you as your most trust advisor. The throne is weak. Harry is a good strong boy, but we all know that when the Lord decides to call us too him, we have no choice but to obey and if God decides that Harry too, is to be summoned to the throne above, then all our life's work, will turn to dust,'

King Henry chewed on his thin bottom lip, as he heard his mother's wise words cut through him. She was right, of course, the way she had always was. As a King, who had fought and won his crown on the bloody battlefield of Bosworth, he had had to do everything in his power, to make sure that the crown did not fall from his head on to a thorn bush for another to claim. He had killed the pretenders to the thrown and along with those in his court, who had run to them, when those charlatans had raised high the banners of the House of York. But violence had not been the only way, he planned to hold the crown. He and Elizabeth had named their first son, Arthur, to signify England's rebirth under the new Tudor Dynasty; the returning of King Arthur and rebuilding of a greater Camelot. But now Arthur, along with poor, sweet Elizabeth, was dead and the future rested on the shoulders of their second son Harry. He was a strong boy, capable of much, Henry, despite not being close to Harry, knew this his second boy, but what if death was once again going to stalk his family?

'I will give the matter some consideration, mother,' he sighed, rubbing his forehead as he continued to study the figures before him, 'I swear that I will not let our life's work go to ruin,'

'That's all I ask, your Highness,' said Lady Margaret Beaufort softly, placing a hand lightly on her son's shoulder and in a rare show of motherly affection, placed a kiss on the top of his reddish hair, 'you will have plenty of time to consider it when she arrives at Court a week on Monday...Do not look at me in such away, Henry! Remember she is Isabella's daughter, every Kingdom in Christendom will have to recognise her as Queen and her children-God willing she do her duty this time-as those of England,'