likemypicture (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likemypicture) wrote2020-08-20 09:06 pm
likemypicture) wrote2020-08-20 09:06 pm
OHANA MEANS FAMILY
In December of 1539, Anna left home. She was starting a new life, as the Queen of England-- going to serve a daughter’s purpose, and create her own family. Family was-- is still the most important thing to her. The third of four children, Anna embraced both the adoration of her older siblings, as well as the structure of being a role model to Amalia. Despite the whispers of reformation waiting just outside her door, it was an idyllic childhood. It may have included less music and court-related education than other nobility houses had-- but it was filled with more important things. There was love-- for family, for duty, and for God. While others may have been educated on dancing and on the finer aspects of cuisine, Anna was learning patience, gratitude, and simplicity.
When she was 11, two prominent life events happened: Sybille, her older sister, left their household with a large dowry, to be married to John Frederick, Elector of Saxony, in an elaborate ceremony. The second? Anne was betrothed to Francis-- the 13-year-old son and heir of Antoine, Duke of Lorraine. After seeing her sister enter wedded bliss-- their marriage producing healthy heirs, Anna could only dream of the day when she herself would have her own family. She busied herself in prayer and duty-- assisting her mother and father, and eventually her brother in official business, and helping raise Amalia into an eligible young bachelorette herself. It wasn’t all work and prayer, though-- Anna could read and write in German and read not just the Gospel, but other works. She loved playing cards and created masterpieces of decoration through her skill with needlework. It was never lonely-- she had both parents, and both William and Amalia.
In 1535, she received news that might have been expected but was heartbreak no less. The betrothal, which had never truly been official, was canceled. She had not known Francis well enough to be upset with actually losing him-- instead, the idea of marrying him, or the resulting joy and family-- it was a blow. Thankfully, she still had her family-- and her mother, a devout Catholic, kept her ears full of scripture that made Anna believe all would be well. God had great plans for Anna von Kleve-- she just had not been set upon those plans, just yet. So she sewed, she told Amalia jokes, and she prayed that God would deliver William a loving wife, who would provide her with an abundance of nieces and nephews for her to enjoy.
1539 brought about a bustle of activity to Duren-- lively, and vibrant after the loss of Anna’s father the year before. It was time for Amalia to marry-- and the King of England, Henry VIII was seeking potential brides. His court painter, Hans Holbein (the younger) arrived to paint Amalia, and Anna, as both met the king’s qualifications -- young, fair, unwed, and willing to not be Catholic. Anna would have been blind if she didn’t notice the other qualification she and Amalia held-- William was The Duke of Cleves and held connections to the Holy Roman Emperor. Reformation had swept England much in the same way it had swept through Clevesburg, and there were rumors of the English king feeling anxiety about neighboring Catholic countries. It would do him well to marry someone like Amalia-- Sister-in-Law to the leader of the Schmalkaldic League, and sister of a Duke with ties so close to the Holy Roman Empire. It even soothed some of Anna’s deepest worries, about saying goodbye to her sister, even if the rumors were true about Henry. He surely wouldn’t risk an alliance such as this by angering William. Amalia would be safe-- and happy.
So it was a surprise, and a bit of sorrow when the arrangements started being made that March, and it was Anna who the king had selected to be his wife. She took it with strife. Family was the most important thing, and her heart ached terribly to leave hers, as well as to hurt Amalia by being the one chosen, but this was an opportunity to have a family of her own. It was with a brave face that she faced the preparations, choosing those who would accompany her to her new household. She was fitted for new gowns, and tried to make Amalia laugh at the ridiculous English fashions, tried to pass along whatever advice she had left for her sister, while she still could tell her in person. She prayed at her father’s grave, read her mother scripture, and tried to make suggestions of wives to William. In December of that year, she squeezed her mother’s hands, kissed Amalia and William each on the cheek, and she left home.
It was the last time she saw her family.
Her hopes of having a family with Henry were quickly dashed. He did not seem to like her much (he said as much), and when she asked if the young princesses might join them at court, she was reminded of their status as ladies, not princesses-- and it was made clear she would not ask again. While Henry’s son was present in the palace, Anna could not spend time with the child-- her hopes of becoming a surrogate mother to the child dashed by the king’s lack of amusement with her. We all know how the rest of that marriage went-- with only chaste kisses on her forehead, and then, with an annulment, and the gift of multiple palaces, and more money than a woman could spend in a lifetime.
It did not ease her ache for family. She made a mistake of writing a letter to William, once, without first reporting its contents to Henry, and found herself accused of betrayal. Thankfully, the contents were proved to be meaningless-- and she was forgiven. After that, she could not even write home, without the contents being reviewed beforehand. She did find some semblance of family, through the Lady Mary and Lady Elizabeth-- but Mary, with her Catholic sensibilities, was a poor replacement for Amalia’s bold, protestant spirit. Still, it was lovely to have a friendship with one of similar age, who had been similarly spurned and cast aside by Henry. They enjoyed the same things, and Mary as a young woman had lacked some of the judgments that the court had held. Lady Elizabeth was easier to love-- she was only a child when she came to stay with Anna, and Anna enjoyed doting upon the girl, even though she was such a solemn child-- there was a glimmer of life behind her eyes that Anna found refreshing, that made her heartbreak each time Elizabeth left her care. When she became Queen, Mary treated her with honor-- she followed directly behind Elizabeth in the coronation procession-- but then, Mary no longer had time to be around her, and dangerous rumors cursed Anna’s life. When she fell ill, she retreated to Chelsea Old Manor, to die in the company of her few closest servants.
Until the very last moment, she wishes she were less alone. Still-- she is a woman of God, and she must not worry about herself. She includes in her final will money for an education for her servant’s children and spends her very last days ensuring that both the Queen Mary and Lady Elizabeth have positions ready in their household for her servants, lest they lose their mistress and their livelihood in the same swoop.
In a particularly cruel twist of fate, she is buried at Westminister Abbey, far from home, surrounded by members of a royal family she was a member of for only six brief months. Her grave bears the name that history remembers her for-- Anne of Cleves.
--------
Anne’s pacing the room probably as much as Richard had been a few hours ago-- brow furrowed, she only pauses a few times to adjust things on the walls of Richard’s home, to peer at a painting and muse that she should give him a copy of her portrait, that would look much nicer there. She’s fidgety to a flaw, and she’s trying to save her phone battery for later, so she can’t even crank on some tunes and get down while she waits. Plus-- the music might cause a commotion, and after having her airhorns confiscated by a very annoyed physician, who she can only assume Roberta had made the suggestion of confiscating said-airhorns to, Anne was trying to keep a low profile.
When the door finally creeks open, and Richard steps through, Anne practically bull-rushes him, a million questions flowing from her. “How are they? What do---” Richard shushes her, and she freezes, as she focuses in on the tiny, absolutely perfect bundle in his arms. Her heart feels like it’s going to come out of her throat, and her legs may be trembling.
Richard’s seen Anne go through a lot of very dramatic situations-- both actually dramatic situations, and then extremely normal situations that she was acting very dramatically about. But he’s not sure he’s seen her like this before. But-- in her defense, he’s never felt like this before, either. He finds himself chuckling at her, and smiling-- “Do you want to hold him?”
Anna von Kleve is stunned into silence, a true feat, but her head bobbles up and down, and her body moves seemingly on its own to reach out. She seems so shaky that Richard almost wonders if he should put his son in her arms, but as soon as he does, Anna is holding him expertly, holding the little bundle against her chest as if he were-- and he is-- the greatest treasure in all of the worlds she’s seen. She still doesn’t trust her legs, so she eases herself into a nearby chair, while Richard helicopter parents by both of them, just in case. He’s so small, so warm, and so real-- she takes a deep breath, then grins up at Richard. “He has that amazing baby smell.”
Richard isn’t sure what she’s on about, some sort of woman nonsense, but he nods. “He does smell good.” He agrees, a proud glimmer to his eyes. Anna finds herself slipping into a gentle rocking motion as the new prince stirs slightly, but doesn’t begin to cry yet-- and begins to try and scheme a way to make sure Richard does not take this baby from her arms.
“Prince Rowen. Is Roberta going to be missing him?” She asks, trying to decide how much time she has. Thankfully, Richard shakes his head. “She’s asleep-- finally. Red too.” Anna’s laugh is quiet, so as not to disturb the infant prince in her arms. “Why don’t you get some sleep too? You’re tired, ja?” Robert looks as if he’s considering it, and before he can consider too much, Anna speaks up again. “Don’t worry about it, cousin. I have him. If he wakes up and seems hungry, I’ll bring him to you.”
He is awfully tired. He feels all of the anxiety of a first-time father, but something about the way Anne of Cleves looks with a baby in her arms, something about the way she was glowing, made him nod. “If you’re sure, cuz.”
“I’m sure! Shoo! Get out!” The last part is half-sung, in the same melody that she once sung Get Down on stage. With his arms raised in mock defense, Richard leaves to join the rest of his family, leaving Anna von Kleve alone with the baby. A feeling stirs in her chest, and she finds herself humming a few bars of another familiar song. “You know I love you, boy, in every single way….” Little Prince Rowan stirs once more but doesn’t seem disturbed, not yet crying out for his mother. She can finally feel what she has been missing, here in this room, alone with Richard and Roberta’s baby, with Red’s new little brother. She feels it again when Rowan starts to cry, and she’s forced to walk down the hall with the wailing little bundle, peering into the room where Roberta is asleep, Red conked out beside her, and Richard passed out in a nearby chair. When she passes the baby to Roberta, and says her goodbyes, pressing a kiss to each of the family member’s cheeks.
She feels the feeling again, when she stumbles into the penthouse in the wee hours of the morning, tired from interdimensional travel-- and she finds Sigyn and Loki sprawled on the couch together, watching television. When Sigyn turns to her, smiles, and asks “Got pictures?” Anne bobs her head up and down with excitement, wiggling into the empty space on the corner of the couch, under part of the blanket wrapped around Sigyn’s shoulder. “Ja! You know I do--- Prince Rowan! Red’s little brother!” She coos, pulling out her smartphone to show off photos and videos of the baby. When the cooing and chatter of the women gets a bit too noisy and draws Stephen and Mephisto downstairs, Anna waves them over, the feeling resurfacing in her chest once more. “Come look! It’s Richard and Roberta’s new baby! Prince Rowan!” Once she’s shown each picture three or four times, and Stephen has shown her how to email the photos to the teens (he’s shown her so many times how to email photos, but what else do you expect from a Queen from the 1500s?), she finally settles down and makes her own comfortable spot on the couch, complete with pillow and blanket. She hears Mephisto grumble something like “You don’t live here, Anna--” and it’s only then, that she realizes what this feeling in her heart is.
Family.
She has what she's always wanted.
When she was 11, two prominent life events happened: Sybille, her older sister, left their household with a large dowry, to be married to John Frederick, Elector of Saxony, in an elaborate ceremony. The second? Anne was betrothed to Francis-- the 13-year-old son and heir of Antoine, Duke of Lorraine. After seeing her sister enter wedded bliss-- their marriage producing healthy heirs, Anna could only dream of the day when she herself would have her own family. She busied herself in prayer and duty-- assisting her mother and father, and eventually her brother in official business, and helping raise Amalia into an eligible young bachelorette herself. It wasn’t all work and prayer, though-- Anna could read and write in German and read not just the Gospel, but other works. She loved playing cards and created masterpieces of decoration through her skill with needlework. It was never lonely-- she had both parents, and both William and Amalia.
In 1535, she received news that might have been expected but was heartbreak no less. The betrothal, which had never truly been official, was canceled. She had not known Francis well enough to be upset with actually losing him-- instead, the idea of marrying him, or the resulting joy and family-- it was a blow. Thankfully, she still had her family-- and her mother, a devout Catholic, kept her ears full of scripture that made Anna believe all would be well. God had great plans for Anna von Kleve-- she just had not been set upon those plans, just yet. So she sewed, she told Amalia jokes, and she prayed that God would deliver William a loving wife, who would provide her with an abundance of nieces and nephews for her to enjoy.
1539 brought about a bustle of activity to Duren-- lively, and vibrant after the loss of Anna’s father the year before. It was time for Amalia to marry-- and the King of England, Henry VIII was seeking potential brides. His court painter, Hans Holbein (the younger) arrived to paint Amalia, and Anna, as both met the king’s qualifications -- young, fair, unwed, and willing to not be Catholic. Anna would have been blind if she didn’t notice the other qualification she and Amalia held-- William was The Duke of Cleves and held connections to the Holy Roman Emperor. Reformation had swept England much in the same way it had swept through Clevesburg, and there were rumors of the English king feeling anxiety about neighboring Catholic countries. It would do him well to marry someone like Amalia-- Sister-in-Law to the leader of the Schmalkaldic League, and sister of a Duke with ties so close to the Holy Roman Empire. It even soothed some of Anna’s deepest worries, about saying goodbye to her sister, even if the rumors were true about Henry. He surely wouldn’t risk an alliance such as this by angering William. Amalia would be safe-- and happy.
So it was a surprise, and a bit of sorrow when the arrangements started being made that March, and it was Anna who the king had selected to be his wife. She took it with strife. Family was the most important thing, and her heart ached terribly to leave hers, as well as to hurt Amalia by being the one chosen, but this was an opportunity to have a family of her own. It was with a brave face that she faced the preparations, choosing those who would accompany her to her new household. She was fitted for new gowns, and tried to make Amalia laugh at the ridiculous English fashions, tried to pass along whatever advice she had left for her sister, while she still could tell her in person. She prayed at her father’s grave, read her mother scripture, and tried to make suggestions of wives to William. In December of that year, she squeezed her mother’s hands, kissed Amalia and William each on the cheek, and she left home.
It was the last time she saw her family.
Her hopes of having a family with Henry were quickly dashed. He did not seem to like her much (he said as much), and when she asked if the young princesses might join them at court, she was reminded of their status as ladies, not princesses-- and it was made clear she would not ask again. While Henry’s son was present in the palace, Anna could not spend time with the child-- her hopes of becoming a surrogate mother to the child dashed by the king’s lack of amusement with her. We all know how the rest of that marriage went-- with only chaste kisses on her forehead, and then, with an annulment, and the gift of multiple palaces, and more money than a woman could spend in a lifetime.
It did not ease her ache for family. She made a mistake of writing a letter to William, once, without first reporting its contents to Henry, and found herself accused of betrayal. Thankfully, the contents were proved to be meaningless-- and she was forgiven. After that, she could not even write home, without the contents being reviewed beforehand. She did find some semblance of family, through the Lady Mary and Lady Elizabeth-- but Mary, with her Catholic sensibilities, was a poor replacement for Amalia’s bold, protestant spirit. Still, it was lovely to have a friendship with one of similar age, who had been similarly spurned and cast aside by Henry. They enjoyed the same things, and Mary as a young woman had lacked some of the judgments that the court had held. Lady Elizabeth was easier to love-- she was only a child when she came to stay with Anna, and Anna enjoyed doting upon the girl, even though she was such a solemn child-- there was a glimmer of life behind her eyes that Anna found refreshing, that made her heartbreak each time Elizabeth left her care. When she became Queen, Mary treated her with honor-- she followed directly behind Elizabeth in the coronation procession-- but then, Mary no longer had time to be around her, and dangerous rumors cursed Anna’s life. When she fell ill, she retreated to Chelsea Old Manor, to die in the company of her few closest servants.
Until the very last moment, she wishes she were less alone. Still-- she is a woman of God, and she must not worry about herself. She includes in her final will money for an education for her servant’s children and spends her very last days ensuring that both the Queen Mary and Lady Elizabeth have positions ready in their household for her servants, lest they lose their mistress and their livelihood in the same swoop.
In a particularly cruel twist of fate, she is buried at Westminister Abbey, far from home, surrounded by members of a royal family she was a member of for only six brief months. Her grave bears the name that history remembers her for-- Anne of Cleves.
--------
Anne’s pacing the room probably as much as Richard had been a few hours ago-- brow furrowed, she only pauses a few times to adjust things on the walls of Richard’s home, to peer at a painting and muse that she should give him a copy of her portrait, that would look much nicer there. She’s fidgety to a flaw, and she’s trying to save her phone battery for later, so she can’t even crank on some tunes and get down while she waits. Plus-- the music might cause a commotion, and after having her airhorns confiscated by a very annoyed physician, who she can only assume Roberta had made the suggestion of confiscating said-airhorns to, Anne was trying to keep a low profile.
When the door finally creeks open, and Richard steps through, Anne practically bull-rushes him, a million questions flowing from her. “How are they? What do---” Richard shushes her, and she freezes, as she focuses in on the tiny, absolutely perfect bundle in his arms. Her heart feels like it’s going to come out of her throat, and her legs may be trembling.
Richard’s seen Anne go through a lot of very dramatic situations-- both actually dramatic situations, and then extremely normal situations that she was acting very dramatically about. But he’s not sure he’s seen her like this before. But-- in her defense, he’s never felt like this before, either. He finds himself chuckling at her, and smiling-- “Do you want to hold him?”
Anna von Kleve is stunned into silence, a true feat, but her head bobbles up and down, and her body moves seemingly on its own to reach out. She seems so shaky that Richard almost wonders if he should put his son in her arms, but as soon as he does, Anna is holding him expertly, holding the little bundle against her chest as if he were-- and he is-- the greatest treasure in all of the worlds she’s seen. She still doesn’t trust her legs, so she eases herself into a nearby chair, while Richard helicopter parents by both of them, just in case. He’s so small, so warm, and so real-- she takes a deep breath, then grins up at Richard. “He has that amazing baby smell.”
Richard isn’t sure what she’s on about, some sort of woman nonsense, but he nods. “He does smell good.” He agrees, a proud glimmer to his eyes. Anna finds herself slipping into a gentle rocking motion as the new prince stirs slightly, but doesn’t begin to cry yet-- and begins to try and scheme a way to make sure Richard does not take this baby from her arms.
“Prince Rowen. Is Roberta going to be missing him?” She asks, trying to decide how much time she has. Thankfully, Richard shakes his head. “She’s asleep-- finally. Red too.” Anna’s laugh is quiet, so as not to disturb the infant prince in her arms. “Why don’t you get some sleep too? You’re tired, ja?” Robert looks as if he’s considering it, and before he can consider too much, Anna speaks up again. “Don’t worry about it, cousin. I have him. If he wakes up and seems hungry, I’ll bring him to you.”
He is awfully tired. He feels all of the anxiety of a first-time father, but something about the way Anne of Cleves looks with a baby in her arms, something about the way she was glowing, made him nod. “If you’re sure, cuz.”
“I’m sure! Shoo! Get out!” The last part is half-sung, in the same melody that she once sung Get Down on stage. With his arms raised in mock defense, Richard leaves to join the rest of his family, leaving Anna von Kleve alone with the baby. A feeling stirs in her chest, and she finds herself humming a few bars of another familiar song. “You know I love you, boy, in every single way….” Little Prince Rowan stirs once more but doesn’t seem disturbed, not yet crying out for his mother. She can finally feel what she has been missing, here in this room, alone with Richard and Roberta’s baby, with Red’s new little brother. She feels it again when Rowan starts to cry, and she’s forced to walk down the hall with the wailing little bundle, peering into the room where Roberta is asleep, Red conked out beside her, and Richard passed out in a nearby chair. When she passes the baby to Roberta, and says her goodbyes, pressing a kiss to each of the family member’s cheeks.
She feels the feeling again, when she stumbles into the penthouse in the wee hours of the morning, tired from interdimensional travel-- and she finds Sigyn and Loki sprawled on the couch together, watching television. When Sigyn turns to her, smiles, and asks “Got pictures?” Anne bobs her head up and down with excitement, wiggling into the empty space on the corner of the couch, under part of the blanket wrapped around Sigyn’s shoulder. “Ja! You know I do--- Prince Rowan! Red’s little brother!” She coos, pulling out her smartphone to show off photos and videos of the baby. When the cooing and chatter of the women gets a bit too noisy and draws Stephen and Mephisto downstairs, Anna waves them over, the feeling resurfacing in her chest once more. “Come look! It’s Richard and Roberta’s new baby! Prince Rowan!” Once she’s shown each picture three or four times, and Stephen has shown her how to email the photos to the teens (he’s shown her so many times how to email photos, but what else do you expect from a Queen from the 1500s?), she finally settles down and makes her own comfortable spot on the couch, complete with pillow and blanket. She hears Mephisto grumble something like “You don’t live here, Anna--” and it’s only then, that she realizes what this feeling in her heart is.
Family.
She has what she's always wanted.