My son will rule
My son will be king
I will not have it any other way! – Lo.
You will bow to me.
You will bow to him.
Together, we will rule a vast land.
For far too long has Henry had to ride on the backs of ghosts
A title long torn away, stripped, tarnished
As the no-thing child fades into the darkness
Obscured by anonymity
Now is his time to rise up beyond the ashes
and tear asunder this fallen land
taking all that he might, crushing those who would usurp.
Henry VII, King of England.
And I, Margaret Beauford, am his mother.