The Italian Rose

Nineteen:

The day of the wedding was fast approaching, too quickly for Isabella's liking, and the whole court was busy preparing for the King's second marriage.

The last few days had been busy for Isabella, almost every day her chambers was filled with courtiers wanting to discuss topics with her and to show their respect, most of them were the daughters of ambitious Lords, to anything that can use against Isabella.

She spoke little to the King since the months of wedding preparations, dined with him four times and occasionally ran into him in the hallways of Whitehall Palace, where they greeted each other and then was pulled in opposite directions, Henry had a country to rule, and Isabella had wedding plans to oversee.
It was early in the morning of May, Isabella had little to eat as the wedding jitters and paranoid thoughts began to slowly creep in, Lord De Angelo made it known to Isabella that even on his own wedding day, he too, experienced wedding jitters amd almost did not show up to the chapel.

It was known to everyone that Lady Anne Clifford, a daughter of a Baron was not the lady that Lord De Angelo wished to marry, but the union seemed to be happy and produced beautiful daughters, one was set to become Queen of England.

Isabella donned her wedding dress, her hair was loosely curled and pinned back with the gold coronal, since their Lady Mother was not alive, Grace, as the eldest daughter stepped forwards to place the veil of ivory over Isabella's head.

Her ladies were dressed in similar colours and veils, an English tradition to confuse the evil spirits of who was the true bride, a superstition that Lord De Angelo found quite silly, then again, the Italians and French had similar traditions regarding weddings.

It was a short carriage ride from Whitehall Palace to the chapel, they received word that the Dowager Princess and Mary were in attendance as they travelled a few days ago from Ludlow Castle to join in the celebration, once at the chapel, Isabella was quickly whisked away in vase she was seen by the King as another English tradition states that the bridegroom can not see the bride until she is walking down the aisle.
It was there that Isabella's request was granted by Henry, Princess Mary was to hold the train of Isabella's wedding dress as she began the wedding march, the Seymours and Boleyns barely glanced Isabella's way as the rest of the courtiers greeted her with such respect and awe.

Lord De Angelo handed Isabella's hand over to Henry, who turned to turned to greet her with a smile, Isabella was sure that he had tears in his eyes but blinked them away.
"Your majesty." Isabella whispered, giving a curtsey to him and faced the Archbishop.
"Isabella." Henry replied, placing a kiss on her knuckles before he too, faced the Archbishop.

The Archbishop began to recite the Catholic prayer, everyone listened intensely, the vows were made, and Henry placed a kiss on Isabella's lips, sealing their union.
"As we have witnessed here today in front of God and these guests, these two have joined together in marriage." The Archbishop spoke, his thick Italian accent echoed loudly. "May God bless this union and bring forth healthy sons and daughters."

The Duke of Suffolk then produced a cloak of royal purple, where Henry would stand to place it over Isabella's shoulders and took hold of her hand.

"May I introduce to you for the first time their majesties, King Henry VIII and Queen Isabella De Angelo of England, Protectors of the Faith, Lord and Lady of Ireland"

"Long live the King and Queen!" Someone bellowed, it echoed throughout the chapel as everyone began to repeat it aside from the Boleyns and Seymours.

They watched as all their time and effort of putting their own family on the Queen's throne went up in flames as Henry placed another kiss on Isabella's lips.