The Other Henry VIII

Patience

Leia's POV

The Queen's apartments have been empty for almost a year but I find it the same as it always was. The same paintings hang on the walls and the same four-poster bed sits in the middle with the same bedding and pillows. To me, there are still ghosts of its past occupants: I see Diana Westerly at her dressing table, gazing at herself in the mirror adoringly, and her flock of ladies dotted around the room. I have not been inside here for five years and yet the memories are as clear as day. These will never feel like my chambers. They will always be hers.
I wait calmly, having been blessed and washed by the priest, for my new husband to grace us with his presence. As a widow, I know what is to come but that simply makes it bleaker. The room is as silent as a tomb around me.

Then, at last, he bursts in. Most likely drunk out of his mind, laughing raucously with his friends, footsteps thundering on the wooden floor: the King of England.
I stand up and curtsy low before him, as does everyone else. The air is chilly and I force myself not to shiver in my nightgown. He takes my hand and pulls me up gently, so that I am standing face to face with him. His eyes are dark in the dim candlelight but there is a little glint of joy still buried in there. I remind myself once again that this man, one of the most powerful European monarchs at aged thirty-two, is my husband. According to the law, I now 'belong' to him.
"Leave us," the King calls out. When almost nobody moves, he repeats his words in a firmer tone. It is not long before we are completely alone and I can already feel my heart racing inside my chest. Knowing a person, one who is not close family, for many years can lead to either immense love and respect or hatred, perhaps both. Even I am not sure what has happened between us but I suppose it matters not what I think now.

Suddenly, he lifts me in his arms as if I were his peasant bride walking through our new home, and buries his head in my hair. I do not know what else to do, except wrap my arms around his neck and pray that he does not drop me.
"Do you have any idea how happy I am, at this moment?" Henry whispers into my ear, swinging me gently.
"I'm sure I can guess," I reply, letting him see the shadow of my smile.
"Are you happy, Leia? Tell me the truth." I hesitate. Is this happiness or acceptance of what must happen? I still cannot understand my feelings and it frustrates me more than Marianne ever has.
"Yes, I am." I surprise myself with this answer and allow him to kiss me.
"Good. That is all I desire. No matter what happens, I will love you for all eternity. I will do anything for you. There is no greater reward than your approval." These are romantic words, even for me. No wonder this man has seduced so many women of his court. He kisses me again, desperately and lovingly, like a frightened youth, before carrying me over to the side of the bed.

"You are a far better man than you allow most people to see, Henry," I say softly. He laughs. "You have made me a better man than I ever could be alone." He places me down carefully, then begins to unbutton his shirt. "And now, you are my Queen. The Queen of England. The Queen of my heart."

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The word around court was that the King's spirits were higher than they had been for over a decade. This only scraped away what little joy that remained in Richard Cavill. For too long, he had reassured himself with the idea that Leia's marriage would be an unsuccessful one and she would regret what she had given up. But here they were, a few days after the royal wedding, and the more the courtiers celebrated, the lower Richard sank into his own melancholy thoughts.

He could hardly bear to even watch her walk past him, dressed in the finery that she deserved with a permanently regal expression. Queen Leia. She would never  realise how much Richard adored her. She would never understand that his giving up was for her own good. She would remember him as the cowardly lover who did not have the strength to fight for her. She would never see him as the man who accepted that the King would make her happier than anyone else ever could. To Leia, Richard was next to nothing. With every day, he drowned in a deeper well of self-pity. He watched her sit upon that throne and wear that heavy crown as if she were born for them and felt himself die a little more inside.