Mi Inglaterra Prologue [2/2]
anonymous
November 4 2009, 21:11:34 UTC
The fires were reflected in England’s eyes, themselves the colour of grass, as the Heretic, rebel, daughter of King Henry VIII, the woman who might have been Queen, burned.
They had been careful, he reflected, to search her before she was burnt.
Lately, there were too many people bringing gunpowder with them onto the pyres, tied round their neck for a quicker death, or in pockets and bags to damage those who had turned up for the free show.
She was certainly quiet, he thought. He glanced over to where his Queen would be, next to King Phillip, watching her sister burn. She had gone into labor whilst Elizabeth was being tied at the stake.
England hoped that the child would be a boy. That would be good, a male heir to both countries, somebody to train to lead Spain’s empire. Which, he finally allowed himself to think, likely included him.
Yet he wished it could be a girl, to give him more time before he saw the person who would rule him and Spain.
Spain was behind him and slightly to the side. England imagined he could feel Spain’s breath on the back of his neck, stirring the fine hairs there, hotter than the flames, burning him.
Whenever he thought about Spain something curled tight in his stomach, close to fear, something that he couldn’t identify.
Something he didn’t want to look at too closely, in case it looked back.
His eyes stayed fixed on the figure of Elizabeth as, her flesh charring whilst she stood there, she finally leaned her head back and screamed.
England looked away as she thrashed and wailed, but the image of Elizabeth, white hot flames licking up her from the timber below, stayed imprinted onto his eyes.
Spain moved closer to him, interlaced their fingers tightly, and England could see in Spain’s olive eyes, the reflection of flames feeding off a dying woman.
A/N- Hopefully this isn’t too awful a start. This is my first fill, and it might turn out long. Anyway, next part will be up soon(tommorrowish)
-Nearly fall from the chair in happiness- You done it really good, Author!Anon! Even when this didn't exactly what this OP has in mind when she make the request, you still make an awesome fill! -Showers Author!Anon with love-
They had been careful, he reflected, to search her before she was burnt.
Lately, there were too many people bringing gunpowder with them onto the pyres, tied round their neck for a quicker death, or in pockets and bags to damage those who had turned up for the free show.
She was certainly quiet, he thought. He glanced over to where his Queen would be, next to King Phillip, watching her sister burn. She had gone into labor whilst Elizabeth was being tied at the stake.
England hoped that the child would be a boy. That would be good, a male heir to both countries, somebody to train to lead Spain’s empire. Which, he finally allowed himself to think, likely included him.
Yet he wished it could be a girl, to give him more time before he saw the person who would rule him and Spain.
Spain was behind him and slightly to the side. England imagined he could feel Spain’s breath on the back of his neck, stirring the fine hairs there, hotter than the flames, burning him.
Whenever he thought about Spain something curled tight in his stomach, close to fear, something that he couldn’t identify.
Something he didn’t want to look at too closely, in case it looked back.
His eyes stayed fixed on the figure of Elizabeth as, her flesh charring whilst she stood there, she finally leaned her head back and screamed.
England looked away as she thrashed and wailed, but the image of Elizabeth, white hot flames licking up her from the timber below, stayed imprinted onto his eyes.
Spain moved closer to him, interlaced their fingers tightly, and England could see in Spain’s olive eyes, the reflection of flames feeding off a dying woman.
A/N- Hopefully this isn’t too awful a start. This is my first fill, and it might turn out long. Anyway, next part will be up soon(tommorrowish)
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