Author's Notes - No, you aren't imagining things. Definition of Love is indeed getting the Redux treatment, just like Back to the Beginning. For anyone that's interested, I've started a website that will play host to all my Tudors fanfiction. Also, I've finally given in and joined Twitter if anyone's interested in following me, you can find me on there as rainianightwolf.

She'd thought this "Great Matter" of Henry's would be done by now and she'd sit upon the throne as his queen. Her father kept telling her it was only a matter of time but Anne for one was getting sick of it. She had no idea how much longer she could keep the king's interest as long as she was not his wife. He'd housed her in lavish quarters that were almost fitting for a queen, but Katherine remained in the Queen's chambers. The thought that her rival was still Henry's recognized wife and queen still irked her greatly.

Stripping off her riding gloves, she headed towards her chambers. A passing page boy bowed briefly to her, but was impeded by the shirts that were folded neatly in his arms. They looked oddly familiar, she thought before it dawned on her. Those were the same kind of shirts Henry wore, that... KATHERINE made! "Give me those," she demanded, reaching out and yanking one from the boys arms. Fury tore through her as she recognized the neat stitching that Katherine was known for. With a whirl of skirts, she changed direction from her chambers and headed directly to Henry's.

Without waiting for her presence to be announced, she stormed inside and threw the shirt at Henry, who caught it out of reflex. "How could you?" she demanded, her dark eyes flashing,

Frowning down at the shirt in his hands, he looked up at Anne in confusion. "Sweetheart, what's this? What's the matter?"

"She still sews your shirts!" Anne's voice rose in a feverish pitch, even as she tried her best to keep from becoming hysterical in front of Henry. He'd made it clear that he hated it when women became hysterical in front of him about trivial matters, but to her this was no trivial matter. He wanted to marry her, thus she should be the one to make his shirts, not Katherine.

Glancing down at the shirt again, he noted that it was indeed, one of the ones that he'd requested Katherine to make for him. He'd never once imagined it would be such an issue but clearly Anne was affronted by the idea. Katherine had made his shirts since they'd married, and even though this damn divorce was taking far long than it should, he'd seen no reason for her to not continue making them.

"You cannot have three people in a marriage," Anne's voice breaks into his thoughts, and he looked up to see her glaring at him furiously.
Rounding the great desk he'd been at when she'd barged in, he approached her slowly. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, the shirt still hanging from one hand, he gently put his arms around her. "I'll take care of this at once, sweetheart," he promises, capturing her gaze with his own as he leaned down and kissed her gently.

Her temper receded and she smiled up at him wanly. "I'm sorry, Henry, it's just..."

"I know, darling," he assured her gently. "I promise, you won't have to worry about this anymore."

"His Majesty, the King!"

Almost as one, Katherine's ladies rose, setting their sewing aside and curtsying as Henry made his into her chambers. "Henry," she greeted, following her ladies' example and setting aside the shirt she'd been sewing to be distributed to the poor and rising. "You may leave us," she directed at her ladies, who curtsied and gathered their sewing, skirting around the king and filing out.

"Katherine," he began but the words he'd been intending on telling her died in his throat at he stared at her. When she'd failed to provide him with a living son, he'd sworn he loved her no longer. It had gotten worse when Lady Blount had given birth to little Henry Fitzroy and he'd started to discreetly look for a way out of their marriage. Now, as he looked at her, the memories of their relationship came back to him. He'd been so proud to escort her the day she'd married Arthur, and had actually fancied himself already a little in love with his brother's bride.

He'd soon forgotten about it until Arthur died and he'd been so taken with the idea of rescuing her from her widowhood. The lovely Spanish princess had no friends in England, his father having made her send her Spanish ladies back to Spain. He'd privately resolved to marry her, regardless of anyone's wishes. When Henry VII had died, his father had begged him to send her back to Spain and marry someone else. They'd been so happy, he remembered wistfully. He'd felt like Lancelot rescuing Guinevere, and the entire nation had celebrated their marriage and coronation.

Then, tragedy had struck in the form of the various miscarriages she'd had throughout their marriage. They'd mourned together the loss of their children, including little Henry, who'd died in his mother's arms a couple weeks into life. They did have Mary, the girl who he'd deemed the pearl of his world, but Mary was not the son he needed.

"Henry?" Katherine's voice, still tinged with the Spanish of her youth, startled him out of his silent reverie. "Is something wrong? Do you not like the shirts I made?"

The shirt Anne had thrown at him mere moments ago was still clutched tightly in his hand and he looked down at it before his gaze returned to her. 'I still love her,' he realized, the thought hitting him like a lance to the gut. It wasn't possible! He loved Anne now, not Katherine. Anne would give him the son he longed for, the son England longed for, he was almost sure of it! If that's true, why did you not have Katherine removed from court long before this? A dark voice whispered in his mind, so loud and clear that for a moment he felt the urge to turn around and see who was speaking to him. Why allow your Great Matter to continue at all? If you are so certain that your marriage is invalid...

"I still love you," he finally says aloud, the truth of his words sinking in as they leave his mouth. He feels like he's naked, he's so vulnerable in this moment as he waits for her to say something, anything. When she finally does speak, he couldn't have been more surprised if she'd reached out and slapped him.

"You certainly have an interesting way of showing it, Henry," she tells him, the harshness of her words not lost on her. Part of her wants to hurt him like he's hurt hurt her over the years. She'd shut her eyes and looked away as he'd picked his mistresses from her own ladies. When Elizabeth Blount had given Henry a living son, something she'd failed to do, she'd even shown up at the celebration and toasted the little boy's health. As much as she wanted to dislike the little boy, she couldn't bring herself to do so. It was hardly the child's fault that he'd been born the boy that should have been hers. Now, as Henry's so-called 'Great Matter' dragged on, and he still insisted on making a fool of himself with that Boleyn whore, she felt as though she couldn't shut her eyes any longer.

Flinching almost imperceptibly at the obvious barb, Henry gazed at her beseechingly. She had to see that he loved her still, that he would end this thing and take her back! The people were not happy that he was trying to set aside the woman they adored and accepted as Queen. He was young still, and though Henry Fitzroy was a bastard, there were ways he could work around that to name the boy his heir. "Please, Katherine... I want to give you another chance..." he murmured, voice pleading like he was a child again.

The absolute absurdity of Henry forgiving her caused an unamused laugh to escape Katherine before she could quash it. Forgive her? Forgive her for what? She'd done nothing wrong. Who was to say that because she couldn't give Henry a living son that it would have been any different had Arthur lived and become king? God had seen fit not to give her any living sons and though it pained her greatly, she was not one to question the will of God. "You want to give me another chance, Henry?" she finally asked, shaking her head and laughing bitterly. "Henry, I don't know if I can give you another chance."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed toward her bedchamber. When he didn't say anything or try to stop her, she pushed open the door and entered, gently shutting it behind her.