𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓞𝓯 𝓘𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮

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The word "murdered" echoes ominously in my mind. The Duke of Richmond and Somerset is no more, his life stolen by a poison that defies remedy. The blame falls heavily upon Anne Boleyn's shoulders, burdening me with the weight of despair. My heir, of pure Tudor lineage, has been snatched away, leaving the future of the Tudor dynasty in peril.

Anne promises me a son, but I can only pray that our previous encounters have borne fruit, that her womb may be filled with the promise of new life. Yet, uncertainty gnaws at me. Will God grant me more sons? Will the Tudor legacy endure?

I am haunted by the specter of my son's lifeless form, yearning for a moment of solace that will never come. Anger consumes me as I grapple with the cruel hand fate has dealt me. Death's scent hangs heavy in the air, offering a fleeting sense of comfort amidst the despair.

My daughters, Mary and Elizabeth, may yet carry on the Tudor name, but I am a defeated king, unable to secure the bloodline's continuation. A soft voice interrupts my reverie, calling my name with gentle insistence. Reluctantly, I turn to face the intruder, welcoming the distraction from my grief.

As jasmine fills the air, mingling with the scent of death, I am reminded that even in the darkest moments, there is still a glimmer of light, a fleeting sense of solace amidst the despair.

"Why did this happen?" The grip on my shoulders offers solace, but answers elude me. "Why did this happen?" I repeat, my voice echoing in the empty space. Silence meets my inquiry, leaving my questions unanswered. Three times I've asked, and now I cease, refusing to seek answers from the heavens. Instead, I vow to seek justice within myself, to hunt down the murderer and exact vengeance with my own hands, to watch them suffer for their heinous crime.

Regret consumes me, knowing that the Duke of Richmond and Somerset was not born of my lawful union. God chastises me for my transgressions, yet monarchs throughout history have taken mistresses without consequence. But what purpose does it serve to produce offspring outside of wedlock? Catherine of Aragon's desire for his demise has been fulfilled.

The aftermath of tragedy overwhelms the king with a fury no man should endure. His son lies lifeless before us, a cruel reminder of the fragility of life. Henry Fitzroy, a promising young man with a future stolen by jealousy, was groomed to be a king, beloved by the people and destined to rule. But fate intervened, denying him his birthright.

I must deliver news that will offer the king solace amidst his grief. With child, I carry the future of England, a son who will one day ascend the throne. Henry's stunned silence speaks volumes, a rare moment of speechlessness from the monarch. Embraced by him, I know that I have secured my place in history, destined to be queen after the birth of our son.

Confident in my future, I envision a reign marked by prosperity and unity. Lady Mary will be reconciled with her father, and I will ensure her happiness by arranging a suitable marriage abroad. As the Marquess of Pembroke, soon to be Queen of England, I will rule with wisdom and grace, securing the Tudor legacy for generations to come.