Katherine Tudor was supposed to be stillborn. A dead daughter of Elizabeth of York whom would die days before her mother.
That is no longer the case. Instead she became Queen of France at 13. The wife of Le Garcon Roi; the boy king. The Queen Mother...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬
Eugene liked his wife.
She was beautiful and obedient, came from a family known to be resilient. Katherine herself was also easy to please, she didn’t expect much from him which created a situation where both of them were pleased. Eugene didn’t have added pressure and Katherine didn’t have to deal with his overbearing nature or be disappointed in their lack of romance.
He was grateful to have a wife like her, who did little to oppose him and so easily adapted to life at court. In the beginning, he was resigned to this marriage and saw it as his duty. Reluctant but willing to do what it took to fulfill his duty as King. That includes providing someone to take his place when he was dead.
Katherine just made things easier for him.
Their marriage, while simple, had its troubles. Katherine was, apparently, a drunk and that kind of behavior was unfit for a queen. This issue was fairly new, but the signs were there.
Eugene could have handled it better. He should have been more empathetic, more calm, more caring, more something. He should have tended to her (and her problem) with care.
The man (boy) sighed, running a hand through his thick black hair. He scratched at his scalp as he pulled his hand back forward and opened his eyes to take a look at the mountain of documents piled on his desk, taunting him for being so negligent in everything. He needed a drink. He needed a distraction.
He turns to his manservant and requests just that.
While he waits, he starts on the pile of paperwork. Signing here, stamping of a royal seal there, and as he skims through the pages, a few requests are denied and notes to take another look at a few. He had barely made a dent in the stack when she arrived.
“Your majesty,” the lady curtseyed, her breasts peeking from her dress. Her auburn hair, dark and wavy, was down and framed her face. Her dark blue eyes gazed up at him, enchanting and alluring. “You called for me?”
“I did,” Eugene confirmed as he picked up the stack of paperwork, stood from his chair, and sat it down in the spot he once was. “On the desk,” he commanded her.
The lady giggled as she hopped onto the desk, she didn’t need to be told to lift her skirts when Eugene walked in front of her. A tap on her bare knee had her legs spread easily and the king went to work relieving his stress.
“Ah!”
“Majesty~”
“Quit it, Anne, that isn’t funny.”
Anne turned to her sister, a playful smile on her lips, “I happen to find it hilarious,” she teased. “She is so lewd, screaming like a cat in heat. She does know we can all hear her, right?”
