A True Account of the Tudor Roses in This Year of Our Lord, 1553.

The year is darkened with smoke and sorrow, yet still the Tudor Rose endures. When London’s fair streets ran red in the cruel assault of the Order of Gabriel, many noble houses fell and countless innocents perished. Among the greatest losses was Her Grace, the first Queen Consort of King Edward Tudor, taken from him amidst fire and ruin. Her passing has struck the Court and the City alike, for she was a light in troubled days, a balm for the realm, and a lady of grace.

Yet from grief blooms a new rose. His Majesty, though young, has shown the strength of the wolf and the wisdom of the crown. With solemn hand and steadfast heart, he has taken to wife Lady Jane Grey, she now our Queen Jane. Where the first rose was cut down by violence, this new rose rises—pale, resolute, and crowned with the promise of Avalon’s future.

The joining of Edward and Jane is more than union of two hearts; it is the binding of red and white once more, of wolf and raven, of love and duty. They walk the halls of Westminster not merely as man and wife, but as sovereigns who must lead us through fire into light.

Whispers abound that the Tudor Rose is no simple flower. It is said the petals are watered with both love and death, and that no blossom blooms without thorns. Some mutter that nothing in this world is as it seems—where one rose falls, another rises; where death is sown, love still dares to grow. So it has been with the House of Tudor, and so it shall be until the last crown is set upon the brow of Avalon’s kings.

The people gather in taverns and markets alike to speak of the new Queen. They say her gaze is calm, her manner learned, her faith steadfast. If Edward is the wolf to guard our gates, Jane is the steady hand upon the crown, the white rose among red.

Let us pray that this union of Tudor Roses may weather the storm that ever threatens our fair realm. For if love and death are the twin heralds of our age, then let love guide the throne, and death fall upon its foes. Long live King Edward and Queen Jane, the Roses of Avalon.