Tudor Rose

xviii. prince of wales

September 15, 1514

The days all started out in the same, boring way. I'd wake up early in the morning in discomfort, and because I couldn't fall back asleep, I'd reluctantly get out of bed. Since I'd been confined in my chambers until the baby was born and I'd recovered, there was not much to do. I usually read for some time, wrote letters to Elizabeth, who was now living happily with her husband a few miles away from the palace, and did other bland activities to keep myself busy. Every few hours, Henry would stop by to check on me and we'd play a game of chess or cards.

But today felt different. I woke up early and felt miserable and bored all day, but today still seemed different. Everything happened normally until about halfway through the day. I knew the feeling well- it was time for the baby to be born.

"Isabell, get the others! It's time!" I yelled, gritting my teeth.

I screamed for eleven hours, with no sign of the baby being born. The pain was unbearable and relentless. Poor Mary and Clara seemed horrified, and even the women who'd been there when Katherine was born seemed appalled by the severity of my pain.

The courtier who kept coming back occasionally to report back to the king became more worried with each visit. I couldn't begin to imagine how Henry was feeling because I was too focused on how I was feeling.

The day bled into the night, and there was still no baby. I felt myself being drained. My energy was depleted and I was seriously doubting myself.

__

September 16, 1514

The sun was just beginning to rise when my screaming stopped. The air was filled with screams of a baby, and the collective sighs and gasps of those who remained. The baby was rushed to the wet nurse, who looked like she was about to fall asleep.

"Is it a boy? A girl?" I asked Mary, tugging on her arm before she walked away.

The Boleyn girl turned to me, a whisper of a smile on her face. "A boy, Your Majesty."

I relaxed. The courtier who was told to report to the king left quickly, and a few people who weren't needed anymore followed. After the baby had been fed, he was given to me.

I could see both Henry and myself in him. His big brown eyes were warm like mine, but he had tufts of vibrant red hair that was identical to his kingly father. It was utterly Tudor — vibrant copper that would darken to brown-red locks with age. He was a small, delicate child who felt as light as a feather in my arms

Henry burst into the room happily and rushed to my side. Katherine, now just over two years old, raced over, too. She'd grown into a beautiful young girl, with dark brown curls and matching dark eyes. She was tall for her age, which was unsurprising considering Henry and I were both tall ourselves.

"Is it true? It's a boy?"

"Yes," I said, beaming with pride.

Henry gently took the baby from my arms, examining him. "He's adorable. Well done, Anna," he praised, "Now, what should we call him?"

"What about Edward? Or William?" I suggested, "Those are lovely names."

"I like Edward," Henry stated simply, "And I think it suits him."

"Edward it is, then," I announced. I turned to my daughter, who had climbed onto the bed and was ogling the sight of her newborn brother. "What do you think of him, Kate?" I asked her.

She thought for a moment. "He looks like an alien."

I laughed at her statement. "You looked like that when you were born," I told her.