La Reina Loca: A Juana I of Castile Timeline
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
just to laugh about it, I would like to see what Henry would be capable of doing as a cardinal ( very unlikely, but knowing his character, he would be a very well-traveled cardinal, voluntarily doing diplomatic service for his father/brother, I imagined him as a mix between Otl Julius II and Rodrigo Borgia, but without their positive sides 😜 )
Henry would not have become a priest if his brother lived. Henry VII was not risking his second son when there were no other male heirs besides Arthur.
True, but is not impossible who Henry could end in the Church if both Arthur and Edmund lived
even if you think about it, it is more likely that Edmund actually entered the clergy rather than Henry, given his role as the third son, otherwise, mine was just a fun idea to imagine, nothing too serious
Not really as Edmund would be easier than Henry to pair with an heiress as he could marry Elizabeth Grey, Viscountess Lisle
I have to admit this much Henry VII is one of my less favourite kings. But I am biased, I am a strong fan of the Daughter of Time. I am however happy for Elizabeth.
Juana may have had some problems... It wasn't something unusual due to the rampant Endogamy in European families, but I don't think she was crazy, but that it was just used to be Usurped.
September 1496.
New
Castelo de Ródão, Portugal. September 1496.
“Well,” Manuel asked, opening his arms as he stepped into the room, “How do I look?” He twirled around.
The King of Portugal was wearing a red and gold doublet and a brown hat, with a large ruby pinned to the front. His dark brown hair was neatly brushed as it fell to his shoulders, his face cleaned and hands washed, with the nails trimmed just the past night. Manuel had begun to wear a beard since he came to the throne, and he had it trimmed as well, to look clean. He had long dark pants of fine silk and embroidered shoes, the very best for a man that was expected to meet his bride that same day.
Manuel had taken care to look like a king on that day. Although both of the infanta’s parents had come to their thrones with some difficulty, especially her mother, they were children of kings and established in their thrones. He had no desire to seem lesser than them, especially since the King of Aragon would be accompanying the exchange of the Infanta.
His mother smiled as she walked to him. Manuel smiled gently in return as she adjusted the lapels of his dark surcoat.
“You look well,” Dona Beatriz said at last. “Juana will soon realise how lucky she is.”
“Hopefully,” Manuel said. Knowing who her mother was, he imagined the Infanta was a strong and confident person. Well-educated, as the Princess of Portugal was, even if hidden for her entire life under the protection of her powerful parents. He wondered what her character was like, if she enjoyed charity or frivolities. Juana was sixteen to his twenty-six, a young girl by all rights, but she was to be his blushing bride. He wanted to make her happy.
“You are a catch,” his mother insisted. Her smile turned sad. “If only your father could see you now.”
“If my father could see me, lady mother, he would be King of Portugal, not me,” Manuel answered. His mother chuckled lowly.
He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t even two when his father died and João became the Duke of Viseu and of Beja and he had no memories of Fernando, brother to King Afonso. Of his childhood, he mostly remembered João and then Diogo, successive dukes of their family’s holdings. And Isabel and Eleanor, their surviving sisters. There were more siblings, Simão, Duarte, Catarina and Dinis, but they didn’t live. Neither did João or Diogo, the latter having been murdered by King John. Only Manuel, Eleanor and Isabel remained, although Eleanor had decided to stay in Lisbon while Isabel, whose son Jaime was Manuel’s heir until a child was born to Manuel, remained behind at her son’s lands due to concerns for her own health.
By all rights, it should’ve been Eleanor as his heir, since she was the older sister, but without children, Eleanor had refused the opportunity to be sworn in favour of Isabel. And Isabel, without any desire for intrigues and politics after the death of her husband, petitioned the cortes to accept her son instead. Jaime was with them, though in another room, as Manuel had asked for a moment alone with his mother.
“I hope you will love the Infanta as your own child, mother,” said Manuel.
Dona Beatriz smiled. “You’re my son,” she answered. “No matter who you married, I’d love them.” Manuel smiled.
He might’ve said something else if the door to their private room was not opened and one of his grooms entered with a bow.
“Your Highness,” the man said. “The Castilians have arrived.”
Manuel said and nodded. He looked back at his mother.
“Well, my lady,” he said. “It’s time we met the one who will be the Queen of Portugal.”
Juana rubbed her sweaty palms on her skirts, taking in deep gulping breaths of fear. Nearly fifty people would be watching her carefully, with round judging eyes, although she supposed she should be thankful. The meeting had been arranged to be private and intimate; usually, two hundred nobles were permitted to observe the first meeting between a royal couple.
She knew she looked pretty, but she wanted Manuel and his court to think her beautiful. As soon as they arrived, her father allowed her to prepare herself and Juana surrounded herself with her trusted servants to prepare.
Her auburn hair was braided and pinned around her face with emerald pins, similar to a crown. One of her maids had whispered to her to pinch her cheeks to make them appear redder, and more flushed with life and good health, so that’s what she did. Juana was wearing a heavy green velvet dress, trimmed with cloth-of-gold and a bodice encrusted with emeralds. Her sleeves were slashed to show the fine white fabric of her shift, with drooping silk undersleeves.
She looked at her father and he must have seen the fright in her expression, because he smiled and walked to her.
“Don’t worry, madrecita,” said the King of Aragon. “There is nothing to fear.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?” she asked.
“He won’t,” her father assured her. “My sweet girl, you are beautiful and intelligent. What more could a man want?” She remembered her sister’s words. It will never be enough. Never enough. Never enough.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Do you really think he will like me?” She looked up at her father, full of trust for the King. He smiled and squeezed her cheek as he did when she was a little girl.
“He will,” he answered. “Now, let’s go.” He took her hand in his and they walked together out of the private room. A herald banged his staff thrice against the floor, announcing her father’s titles and her own, while another announced the arrival of Manuel de Avis, by the Grace of God, King of Portugal and the Algarves and his mother Infanta Dona Beatriz, Dowager Duchess of Viseu and Beja.
Juana held her breath as all bowed for her father and the King of Portugal, although she barely moved. She looked at the man before her, the man that she had dreamed and prayed for for so many months. Manuel. Her betrothed, the man that was promised to her.
Her heart skipped a beat.
He was tall and strong, with broad shoulders. His hair was a dark shade of brown and he had fair skin and a sharp jawline, but an easy smile. He was not exactly as handsome as she expected, but there was something in him. An air that spoke to her. It was his expression that softened his rugged features and made him attractive, someone that wasn’t beautiful until you truly looked at them and saw the soul within.
“Cousin,” her father began, “Allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Infanta Juana of Aragon.”
Juana curtsied. “I’m here to serve you, my lord,” she murmured as had been practiced. The Iberian families could speak amongst themselves, for they always took care to teach their children all the Romance languages of Spain, so she spoke in Portuguese. It made Manuel smile.
“Juana,” he said, her name sounding sweeter than honey in his lips. He stretched a hand forward, a velvet box clutched between his fingers. “This gift doesn’t even come close to the happiness I feel in marrying you.”
Juana looked at her father and the King of Aragon nodded in permission, before she leaned forward to take the gift.
She opened it, not wanting to look too eager, and held back a gasp. It was a necklace of pearls and rubies, the precious stones as large as a goose’s egg. Expensive, certainly, and fragile. She was terrified of dropping and possibly breaking the necklace.
“My father, may the Lord have him, gave it to my mother when they were wed,” Dom Manuel explained. “I hope it is up to your standards, my lady.”
Juana looked at him with tearful eyes, an unstoppable smile curling up her lips.
“It’s perfect,” she answered.
I do remember you said this was dedicated to female rage, so...