FRAGMENTS OF A DYNASTY
Based on the TV Show "Tudors"

Summary: again, inspired by Philippa Gregory's work, Jasper's thoughts of the heir Edmund needs from Margret. As well as the birth of Henry Tudor.

Pairings: implied Jasper/Margret, sort of Edmund/Margret

Two months after the wedding a no sign of an heir. Jasper had questioned Edmund about it and regretted it the moment the words came out.

"I have been doing my duty!" Edmund scowled. "Lord knows it is difficult with her looking so plain and small but I still do it. I do it every night, if you think you can do it better then you try it."

Jasper ignored the scandalous sinful implication of Edmund's outburst. He decided to let the subject go since it did nothing but agitate his brother even more. He glanced down at the table where Margret sat staring resolutely at the wall and he knew she heard every word. They tended to have a habit of talking over her and not acknowledging her existence. He could not understand why Edmund did it but he knew why he did. It would only a take a glance at her and he would wonder what it was about her that Edmund didn't find attractive. She might not have the womanly body that was preferable but that would come in time, she had though pale creamy skin, deep dark eyes that just knew things that no man could, shiny dark hair that would occasionally escape from her headdress and a aura that provoked the desire to protect her. Probably because she was so small and delicate looking.

If it had been another woman, another man's wife who he did not care for, another world where sins would not send you to hell, he would have taken up Edmund's offer of trying to make an heir on her.

Instead he would drink deeply from his cup and head to his room to sleep and let Edmund do it all instead.

Which he did splendidly.

A month later with their childhood nurse rushing to them with the excited news of her ladyship being with child, Jasper knew Edmund had done his duty and no longer needed to complain about his wife. That day had been the only time he had seen Edmund tender and delighted with his wife. The triumphant blaze in Margret's eyes lit her whole face and everyone was merry.

But it did not last.

Edmund died. His brother, his best friend, his companion for life, had died. Jasper was now alone in the world. His other half, his older brother who had always been there, was gone. There was an empty space within him as God took his beloved brother. And his wife that he did not love and who did not love him in return, who never got to learn to love him, was now a widow. A widow heavily with child. A child who will not know his father. If the child was a boy, he would most likely be like Edmund, hopefully the living image of his beloved brother. Even if he did not look like Edmund and took his mother's features, Jasper could train him and teach him to be a great man like his father. If it was a daughter...

A girl would most likely remain with Margret wherever she went in life and he would never have any piece of his brother. But if it was a girl...if it was possible for him to have guardianship of her...

He jumped off his horse and stood before the young girl who stood tall like a woman. Heavy with child but held it with piety and grace as if she was the Virgin Mary. Lovely dark eyes that were grave and solemn as she knew what happened and though she did not love him...

If it was a daughter Margret has in her belly. Then he only hoped she would have her mother's eyes while the rest being solely Edmund's image.

He falls to his knees before her and pledges his allegiance. She was his family now. His mother long lost, his father gone, his brothers forever lost and now stood his brother's wife the only other Tudor on this land.

He did his duty as a brother and took care of her. She was not the most exciting company, she did not joke or banter or tease like Edmund did. She was silent and pious and grave, they spent most of their time together praying for good health of her child. When she did speak to him, she had given him her full attention and he would never admit, not even to his priest that he revelled in her attentions. That he desired to have more of her attention than she could give.

Then the longest day had fallen upon them. He was kept locked out of her birthing chamber as she went through the harshest, complicated birth that he ever heard. He is sure that no woman had ever gone through the labours Margret Tudor went through to give birth to his brother's heir. He could hear her screams and moans and whimpers corridors away and spent all night and day outside of the door waiting for the midwife to come out and tell him any sort of news. Bad or good, at this point he didn't care as long as he knew what was happening.

"It's a boy," the midwife told him. She looked exhausted as he felt and did not stay for much longer before taking room in one of the guest chambers to rest.

He looked in on Margret and found a small girl, paler than ever with deep circles under her eyes. But, oh, her eyes were sparkling like jewels. She was fiercely proud as she held onto her child.

"We'll name him Edmund Owen Tudor," he told her. He did not know her well as he had liked but he knew her well enough to know she would hate being coddled and mothered right now.

"No," she said, argumentative and fierce as if she hadn't spent over thirty hours giving birth, "his name is Henry. That is a king's name and he is the king's heir."

There was an unsaid sentence that would become said over and over again in the future. God had told me he will be king. Margret knew her son, his nephew, Edmund's heir, would become a great man and great king.

They finally had an heir.

The king's heir.

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