It was incredibly jarring waking up one day and realizing not only was he not next to his beautiful wife, but he wasn't even himself anymore.
He was Edward II Plantagenet also known as Edward of Caernarfon. As it stood the year was 1300, he was 16, and the war of Scottish Independence had been going for four years and was now entering into its fifth year. His father, Edward ''Longshanks'' wouldn't die for another seven or so years. But Edward was determined to convince his father to Abdicate, as it stood he was to be given command of the Fourth Division, and his father had appointed John de St. John to be his primary mentor and advisor with the likes of William Latimer, Robert de Tony, William de Leyburn, Roger Mortimer, Antony Bek, and his cousin Thomas of Lancaster serving as advisors and members of his inner circle.
Piers Gaveston was also part of his inner circle, and based on his memories before he ''woke up'' as it were, the original Edward intended but had yet to have relations with Piers. His memories showed that Piers had hinted at similar interests, but thankfully Edward and Piers had not gone far enough that it would hurt Edward. To that end, he intended to do what the original couldn't.
Succeed.
That meant ensuring that Piers and the Despenser - Edward couldn't remember his name at present - at arm's length, but still close. If Edward kept them close, but instead mentored them, it might work. And if not, he could always have them executed. In the end those two had historically wrecked the originals reign and marriage…
Hmm, that reminds him. An alteration to the pact with France needed to be made.
''My Prince, your father wishes to see you.'' He turned to de St John and nodded his head.
''My thanks Sir John, I'll be there momentarily.'' He replied.
It'd been a month since he'd woken up. He'd made sure to spread out his changes in personality to avoid problems. If he suddenly woke up one day and started acting wildly different then he might very well end up burning at the stake or facing some cruel version of an exorcism. Better to make his changes gradually, starting with simple things such as training in the yard more, discussing strategy with Sir John and the others, taking a more active interest in English politics and lands, and also taking a more active interest in the finances of the realm. Not all at once, just at a pace that while not slow, was not something that happened over night.
In his past life, his two grandfathers had an interesting set of careers. One was a farmer, another was a blacksmith. Blacksmithing was a dying art in 2026, but he knew enough about the art, the technologies of antiquity, and how to craft things that he just might be able to revolutionize the metallurgy trade of England. His other grandfather taught him much about husbandry, agriculture, and the like, even if his passion leaned more towards history. It was for that reason he intended to try and make it so that Thomas was betrothed to Isabella instead. The Age Gap made it unfair to everyone.
He'd be twenty three before it was acceptable as far as France and England were concerned for him to marry the French Princess, and even then he'd wait a five or six before he consummated the marriage because honestly… A twelve year old getting pregnant was a poor choice for long term health.
These thoughts came to an end as he entered his father's chambers, his father sat at his desk carving a piece of wood with his hunting knife.
''You called for me father?'' He asked.
''You've grown up.'' His father didn't mince words, cutting straight to the point.
''No.'' He refused that, and his father frowned, but Edward pressed on before Longshanks could reply. ''I woke up, Father. We are at war. A war that has widowed two of my sisters already. And in any event, unless Thomas proves a better successor, I am the heir apparent. It falls to me to protect the Kingdom and the family if you fall in battle.'' For whatever reason, Joan and Margaret had lost their husbands to this war.
''Interesting choice of words. I believe your right, you a not quite a man grown just yet.''
''Key word being yet. I don't believe it's in ours or frances best interests for me to marry Isabella.'' Again his father frowned, and Edward pressed on again before a reply could be given. ''She's five, father, which means that by the time I'd have consummated the marriage I'd be nearly thirty. It'd be best for our succession if she were betrothed to Thomas, and it would ensure that the alliance is kept. France still gets a prince, just not the heir apparent. And honestly, if you intimated to King Phillip an intention to disinherit me, but retain the alliance, just with Thomas, we could easily change the match. Allowing us to then make several more profitable matches.'' He said.
''Explain. Now.'' His father frowned.
Edward stood and poured them both a cup of Gascony wine. He and his father both swallowed a mouthful and gagged. ''Oh that's fucking foul.' Edward coughed as taste passed and drank a cup of water to wash it away, before turning back to his father.
''Constanza of Portugal. She's of an age with me, and marrying her gives us the Portuguese Fleet. We could also arrange for Margaret to marry the Count of Flanders heir, with Cousin Thomas marrying Isabelle of Flanders, and Elizabeth to Ferdinand of Castille. Allowing us to bring Flemish clothmakers directly to us, and allowing us to make more profit sending a finished product instead of raw materials, and marrying into Castille ensures we have access to the Iberian Wool market. Not to mention that Portugal brings a significant dowry, and we could negotiate for lower dowries to Flanders and Castille in exchange for reduced taxes on Flemish and Castilian goods and merchants.
''And what about Joan? Hmm, where do you think your sister would go? Who would she be expected to marry?''
''John de Burgh.'' He answered immediately and without hesitation. His father looked as if he had swallowed something sour and thoroughly unpleasant.
His father began to cough, which got worse fairly quickly as his tongue and lips felt electric and his mouth was numb.
''Father?'' He questioned, before he himself felt dizzy and his heart rate picked up and slowed down as if his heart couldn't make its mind up.
''Poison!'' He realized and looked at the guards. ''Get the Physician! The Archbishop!'' He commanded, and two left while the remainder stayed.
Edward went to his knees and prayed.
This can't be how it ends, you didn't send me here just to die like this! Whatever your plan is….Protect England! He felt his body just let go and his world darkened.
…
…
…
…
Slowly, light entered his vision and he looked around.
There were beings of pure white glowing light looking upon him with interest as an old woman sat on a throne before him, flanked by what appeared to be two… Angels.
What in the actual fuck was happening right now?