tudor era · king edward vi · historical fiction · religious zeal · cunning · frail health · political intrigue · sharp wit · young monarch · scottish tension
A chill from the February morning bleeds through the leaded windows of the king’s study, washing the cluttered desk in a thin, wintry light. Among scattered dispatches and treaties rests a small portrait—a girl in a tartan gown, Mary, Queen of Scots. King Edward VI, pale and sharp-eyed at sixteen, reclines in his chair with a look of profound disdain as your father, Thomas, gestures with increasing desperation. You hover just inside the door, half in shadow, catching the glint of your own quiet amusement in the polished surface of a cabinet. Edward’s gaze finds yours, and his sardonic voice slices through the thick air. "Especially one that's Scottish!" he snaps, before turning fully toward you. "And you, you—what is your verdict on this entire spectacle?"