Back after a long break with a short chapter. I'm sorry for the hiatus. Thanks especially to RandomFandoming, it were your reviews that made me finish the chapter that has been staring at me accusingly for months.

The Covid-19 crisis is terrible of course and I hope you are all healthy and well but I could get used to all that freetime.^^

Edit: Corrected the Elizabeth Woodville mistake. I'm so sorry! Of course it wasn't her, would have been a very late death in childbirth :D. Thank you for pointing it out!

Catherine

~o~

"I think I might be with child."

Charles' expression was pure joy. He lifted her up in the air and whirled her around.

"Oh Cat," he set her down with haste, then patted her stomach as if to apologise. "We will have our own little family." They already did have five children between them, but still this would be their firstborn. And her first trueborn child. She could almost feel the tiny person inside her, she thought, especially when she was resting and concentrating on her belly. Of course she knew it was too early for that in reality, but she enjoyed the thought.

"With God's will, yes." It was always risky to talk of it like this, with so much treacherous hope. Cat's mother had suffered several miscarriages and the deaths of her young children and God knew that Queen Katherine had been the best example for the unhappiness that pregnancy could bring. As this thought rose and sunk in, Cat remembered something else as well. Elizabeth Blount. The king's first long-term mistress. The woman that had distracted him while the queen was in confinement. Cold fingers clenched around her heart. Charles would never...She looked up at his face, full of boyish joy. A boyish joy she had seen on Henry's face so often too. Now, stop it. He is not like the king. Not anymore.
She could only hope so. A cold wind rustled in the sails above them.

"We better go inside," he said, one arm around her shoulders. "It's too cold for you. How are you feeling, is everything well?"

Perhaps it had been wrong to tell him so early, perhaps she had made the following months harder for herself – but right now, it felt so very right, his joy was so very pure, that she decided not to regret her choice just yet.

Back in England, Cat was still sailing on a wave of bliss. This was all that she had hoped for – in the past few years if not all her life.

Charles was almost annoyingly attentive, as if this was his first child. He had a vast repertoire of herbs and sweet treats, comfy throw pillows to cushion every spot Cat chose to sit on and a very sweet but slightly foolish looking beaming smile that he wore from sunrise to sunset.

It was no wonder that after a few days, the whole court, no, probably the whole continent, knew that the Duchess of Suffolk was expecting. So much for keeping the pressure low. Cat had tried to explain it to Charles and he had vowed to be subtle but there was only so much you could expect from men and subtlety had never been his strong suit.

Anne had taken the news with remarkable countenance. Another reason why Cat had wanted to keep a low profile was in order to not overshadow Anne's victorious return to England. She had failed spectacularly, furthermore, the king's wish for a prince was all the greater now that his closest friend would soon have a child in the crib as well. Once, Cat had overheard them talking about having their sons educated together by the brightest poets and philosophers the European courts could yield. Yes, those men really did everything to keep the pressure low, she sighed.

Anne felt it, too. She was happy for Cat, quite naturally, but she would have been even happier if Cat had conceived after Anne's wedding to the king. But as the days passed by, she began to think that perhaps, Cat had done her a favour after all. Henry, always the sportsman, seized the chance to make a competition out of this situation as well.

"We can be married before Candlemas and then we can conceive before Lent." Henry was holding her hand as he told her the news, his face full of juvenile excitement.

Anne was less than impressed, Cat knew, although her friend was tactful enough not to say it out loud. She had fought hard for years now when all it would have taken was to get one of his closest friends' wives pregnant? Still, here they were and Henry offered her everything she had ever wanted on a, well, not silver, but a platter no less.

And if Henry moved forward now, there was no doubt that his new churchmen, headed by Cranmer, would follow.

There were times to play the capricious cat, time to play the generous queen-to-be but now, Anne knew what Henry wanted to see: the sweet, fertile wife.

And she played the role diligently. Together with Cat, she sat sewing and stitching, embroidering shifts and altar cloths. They both danced slowly, without their usual fervour, and chose to sit down or take a walk rather than join the wildest part of the festivities. And the king loved the charade. He had even started to put a hand on Anne's stomacher, just like Charles did with Cat.

The King's Great Matter had never been so close to resolvement. It was that little priest Cranmer who set the hare running at last. He had taken a wife in Germany, following Lutheran doctrines, but until now, only few people had paid him much heed. He was of short, slight statue and often overlooked. When Archbishop Warham died though, Henry was too hasty for modesty. The Archbishop was still warm when the king set his great seal under the appointment of Cranmer.

Anne was more than pleased that night.

"Now, everything will just fall into place." She whirled around the room in her dark mourning gown. "We can be married within a fortnight. The Pope will want to appease Henry to stop him from breaking with Rome completely, nobody knows about Cranmer's Lutheran sympathies and so – voilà – " she snapped her fingers, "I will be queen. Oh isn't this splendid, Cat?"

Cat tried hard not to find Anne's behaviour distasteful. Of course, Anne had waited for years and Warham had never been a friend of her...but still, a man had died.

"Nan, I understand your enthusiasm. But I think a little more decency is required here. At least later in the Great Hall."

Anne was decent enough to allow a little guilt into her smile.

"I shall pray for Warham's soul." She folded her hands piously. Then she eyed Cat sharply.

"You now, pregnancy has made you mellow."

It had. Cat had never been so full of feelings. Nor so close to tears. She felt the sting of Anne's underlying accusation. Tears were pricking in her eyes already. She turned to face the window, pretending to examine the dull, winter hard gardens outside, but Anne saw through it.

"Oh no." She rushed over to her in a rustle of skirts. "I didn't mean it that way, Cat." Cat felt Anne's hand on her hair, a sweet gesture. "You know how I can be sometimes. And you know that I wish –" Anne did not have to say it out loud. She wished to be pregnant as well. She had lain with the king a few times now but still, her blood had come as regularly as ever.

"That was harsh of me. I'm sorry."

Cat felt silly now. It had been nothing, really, not worth the fuss she was making now.

"It's fine." She smiled. "Just... everything is different, changing, not only my body...I fear it will never be back to normal after … childbirth."

If there was an after childbirth for her anyway.

But Nan shook her head softly. "I will never be as it was once, Cat. You're not a girl anymore. You will be a mother. But I'm sure it will be wonderful. You will have the most beautiful little child, I just know it."

It was so early in her pregnancy that it was hard to imagine a person was growing inside her.

"Thank you, Anne."

Anne squeezed her fingers. "Now, shall we?"

The banquet was splendid, Henry was in festive mood and couldn't keep his hands off Anne. Cat left them to it.

Her sister Elizabeth had been ordered to come to court, probably to witness Anne's triumph first hand.

She was there grudgingly though, and foul mooded. Her husband did his best to ignore her but Cat had never had his coldheartedness.

So, Elizabeth chose to rekindle the relationship with her influential younger sister through relating tales of childbearing.

"And the midwife will tell you it is not that bad, that it does not hurt that much – she is lying, it is worse than anything you know. And all that blood...I am glad I am through with it. Of course raising them is a whole different thing."

Elizabeth looked the part of an elderly matron in her old fashioned Spanish dress although she was still well under fourty.

Cat wondered whether this would be her life now, sitting in the corner with the older ladies, discussing gruesome tales of childbearing and complaining about their offspring. A terrible prospect.

But not all women were like that. Her own mother had entertained even with four children, as had the queen. Late Mary Tudor had been known as a beauty even after giving birth to three children and losing one. Cat could only hope she would be unlike her sister in this respect.

"You will excuse my lady wife, Your Grace." Charles bowed. "This is her favourite dance."

He helped Catherine up and only bowed his head slightly in Elizabeth's direction. Little love was lost between them, Cat knew. In all truth, she disliked her sister as well, but she was all the family Cat had left. No, she told herself, I have a new family now.

"Looked like you needed rescue." Charles grinned.

"Oh, direly. She wouldn't stop talking. Perhaps it is time to focus on the family I chose, rather than on that I was born into", she smiled.

Charles was touched, that much she could see. He was almost as sensitive as she was these days. She had suffered from sickness in the mornings and often left the bedchamber quietly as not to wake her husband. He had been hurt and had wanted to assist her. As if she wanted him to see her like that. He had relented at least but only after hiring the best physician and half a dozen midwives.

This child had changed them both, long before it was even born. Perhaps Anne was right and the change would be for the better. But now, all Cat wanted was to dance as she had before the pregnant, with the man Charles had been. Charming and mischievous and with eyes that rested on her face, not her belly.

"Let us dance like we used to." she said. "I don't want to feel like a child carrying vessel tonight."

He smiled at that, a little apologetically. Then he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close. "As the lady wishes."

~o~

Charles

Hampton Court Palace

~o~

The child had changed his life already. He woke up thinking about it and went to bed with the same thoughts. He already had two daughters whom he loved with all his heart, had had a son, too, though he had died young. But this was different. Catherine was, without any exaggeration, the one love of his life. He was excited to meet their child. He was also scared, terribly, terribly scared. His sister had died giving birth, as had his aunt. Not even crowned heads were save: Henry's own mother had died in childbed as well. He wanted the best physician, the best midwives. He had sent for a midwife from Italy that was reported to have holy hands. Holy. As it that mattered. As long as she kept Catherine alive, he would have gladly paid the devil's mistress herself.

"Charles? Are you even listening?"

Henry looked annoyed.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, I was lost in thought."

He couldn't help but smile a little. He had been lost in thought often as of late. That was not like him.

Henry shook his head but managed a grin despite that. "Your head is so full of that woman and your child...and I completely understand. Now, I will repeat myself for you, Your Grace. I have asked you to be a witness at my wedding to Lady Anne."

Charles felt the words like a fist in the stomach.

"Forgive me?"

"Well with Cranmer as Archbishop, nothing hinders us anymore. And we have waited long enough. The wedding will be a secret affair, a London priest will officiate. I want you and your wife to be witnesses, as well as Nan's uncle and parents. I will let Cranmer know in due time."

"Why not just let him officiate?"

Henry swayed his head. "It would honour him no doubt but for one, he is too much of a public figure now and the wedding needs to be a secret, at least until Cranmer has finally set everything right. I also feel uncomfortable putting all my eggs into one basket. This marriage has to be above all reproach. No one may be able question its legitimacy. I do not want to give the critics a reason. Let them grumble and mumble..but nothing more. So an old, well-liked priest from London will wed Anne and me."

Anne and me. The first time Charles had ever heard Henry put someone else first.

If that was what Henry wanted, truly, truly wanted, then Charles would give him his blessing. For that was what Henry had really be asking for, under this pretense. It seemed graceless for a man who was as lucky as Charles to deny the same luck to his friend, just because he disliked Lady Anne. She would maybe make Henry unhappy one day, perhaps, but Henry had his ways to alter the world to fit his needs. In that Charles trusted.

"Catherine and I will be there", he promised. "And I wish you all the best. Truly."

Henry's face was pure delight. He slapped Charles on the back. "You make me a happy man, Charles." Then he grinned mischievously. "But don't think I will be easy on you now. To the tennis courts! I feel like winning a match."

Charles laughed. "Your Majesty is too optimistic, I fear. I promise, I won't be gentle."

It was almost like the olden days, just the two of them, off to sports. Henry had restored the balance. They were equally happy now, soon they would both be married, both have young families. As if they mirrored each other.

Neither Cat nor Lady Anne were present at the tennis court, they were sure to be in Lady Anne's quarters, planning the wedding Charles had just heard of. This was just the way things should be. The four of them, happy and together. Even if it meant that Anne Boleyn would forever be a part of Charles's life. even the sunny day had its midge, he supposed.