A/N: Alright, everyone, given how much you all have enjoyed A Change of Course so much, I have decided to write another Tudors fic. Not to worry, I will be continuing A Change of Course as well, but I do hope you lovely readers will give this story a look. The premise is still kind of the whole 'Anne has a son, so she guarantees her survival, as well as her children not being declared illegitimate' concept, but here is the twist; what if Elizabeth had been the second-born child? What if an older brother had indeed been born first? I hope you all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, or any of the characters, Showtime does.

…

September 7th, 1533

Anne's screams echoed through the chamber, reverberating from the walls as another wave of pain coursed through her body.

She had heard talk that childbirth was painful, but she could have never imagined it would be like this.

"It's alright, sister, it's alright!" Mary Boleyn was stroking Anne's now soaked dark hair with her free hand while the other was locked in her sister's vice-like grip. But Mary hardly paid any attention to the pain, focusing instead on her sister, the Queen of England, who may very well be just moments away from bearing the king his long-awaited son.

"I see the head!" the midwife cried. "Push, Your Majesty!"

"Keep pushing, Anne, you must keep pushing!" Mary cried as Anne's lips released another scream.

Anne gave one final push and in an instant, the infant's lusty cries intermingled with their mother's gasps of exhaustion as the midwife hurriedly cleaned and swaddled the baby before turning to the queen.

"Your Majesty has given birth to a healthy baby boy," she reported with a smile as she held the baby out for Anne to see.

A soft gasp escaped Anne's lips, followed by a sob. Tears gathered in her eyes as Mary helped her sit up and she held out her arms, desperate to hold her son.

She had done it. She had given Henry a son, just as she had promised.

"He is so beautiful," Mary cooed as she stared at the infant, now nestled in Anne's arms.

"Yes, he is," Anne stroked the soft pink flesh of the babe's cheek, scarcely believing he was truly there. "Our son. Our beautiful little prince."

…

"Your Majesty! Let me pass, I must speak to the king immediately!" someone was shouting. "Your Majesty!"

King Henry Tudor turned to see one of his grooms hurrying toward him, a look of urgent excitement on his face.

"What is it?" he demanded. "Speak, man!"

"Her Majesty has delivered…a healthy son…" the man spoke slowly, as though intentionally trying to emphasize the point.

Henry's eyes widened as the realization sunk in…he had not heard those words since the birth of Henry Fitzroy…

"I have a son?" he whispered, almost afraid to believe it lest it turn out to be something more than hopeful fantasy.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the groom answered. "The babe was born not one hour ago. By all accounts, he is healthy."

Charles Brandon could not hide the look of disappointment on his own face.

Now that Henry had a son by Anne Boleyn, any chance of him ever discarding her and returning to Queen Katherine was gone. The hopes of him ever coming to his senses and disregarding this farce of a marriage had now gone up in flames, just like the king's last letter from the queen.

Anne had won.

…

"My lords, we must act swiftly," Henry's tone brooked no argument as he entered the privy chamber.

Charles didn't dare look in the direction of Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire or Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk, knowing that both men were sure to be beside themselves with delight, particularly Boleyn. The man had always been too ambitious for his own good and now, his demeanor was sure to be nothing short of unbearable, now that his daughter had given the king what Katherine of Aragon could not; a living, breathing son.

"Agreed, Your Majesty," Norfolk spoke in a brisk, yet pleased tone. "After all, England has been waiting for many years to hear this news."

"Indeed, let us not make our realm wait a moment longer," Henry nodded. "First, heralds must be sent to deliver the news, and the bells rung. My Lord Norfolk, I shall entrust you to seeing to the festivities celebrating the birth of my son. Lord Wiltshire will assist you."

Thomas Boleyn couldn't resist giving his brother-in-law a slight smirk of triumph.

Charles fought the urge to snort. One would think Thomas Boleyn had borne the baby himself with the airs the man was putting on.

The Duke of Suffolk was not happy. And he knew that had his wife, the king's sister, lived, she would not have been either.

Mary Tudor, Henry's younger sister, had passed just three months prior, and she had never liked Anne. More than once, she had even referred to the latter as 'a cheap nothing' and given her friendship with Queen Katherine, she could never forgive the woman who had usurped her.

But there was nothing for it. Henry would see this as a sign that he had been right to go against Rome and forsake his wedding vows to Katherine, choosing instead to believe that this meant his union with Anne was indeed blessed and valid.

How could such a thing have happened?

…

"I can never thank you enough for this, sweetheart."

Henry stared down at the sleeping babe, who now lay in the silver cradle that had been prepared before his birth, Tudor roses carved into the craft.

"He is so young and yet he favors you so much already," Anne pointed out, a smile gracing her features.

"The living image of his father," Henry gently lifted the precious bundle from the cradle. "Just as you promised me."

As he carefully situated the infant, taking care to support his head, Henry couldn't help but marvel how much his son resembled him. The small fringe of hair covering the child's head was already so much like his own. Before he closed his eyes, Henry had seen that they were a mirror of his as well.

He knew some would slander Anne still, some might even dare to suggest that the child was not his. He had not forgotten how Charles had come to him, bearing tales of Anne being involved in an illicit relationship with Thomas Wyatt, something he still had not forgiven the duke for.

But now he could rest easy for no one could dispute that the prince had not been sired by him.

"What shall we call him, darling?" Henry asked as he turned to his wife, still unable to fully reconcile himself with the knowledge that this all was real and not simply a dream from which he would awaken.

Anne thought for a moment. Katherine had had a son named Henry who had died after a more four weeks of life, and Bessie Blount's bastard son Henry Fitzroy had met his end just a few years ago. She had wanted to name the prince Henry for his father, and yet a part of her worried that Henry, given his superstitious nature, might think it to be a bad omen.

"What indeed shall we name him?" she sighed.

…

…

Alright, there you have it for the first chapter, ladies and gentlemen. I do so hope you enjoyed it, and I must confess I find myself at a loss for what the boy should be named in this story. After all, two little Harrys might get a tad confusing. So, feel free to let me know via PM or review of a name. And the next chapter will be out on Monday, January 6th. Until then, everyone.

Also, I felt the need to point out that for the purpose of this story, I decided to go with a bit more historical accuracy regarding Charles Brandon's marriage to King Henry's sister. In the series, he was married to Princess Margaret after the death of her husband, the king of Portugal, but in history he was married to Princess Mary Tudor, who had for a short time been married to King Louis of England before the latter's death. In truth, Henry had had two sisters, Margaret and Mary, but in the series the two were combined into one character (Margaret) so as not to confuse the king's sister with his daughter. But here, the two are separate and I do believe everyone will be able to differentiate one Mary from the other (particularly with one being dead at this point in the story). Hope that clears any misunderstandings anyone had while reading. Later, guys!