A/N: As promised, here is the brand new chapter. Many thanks to Sparky She-Demon, dracoqueen, FashionLuver98, Crockett Rocket, Vwchick, IWantColouredRain, QueenAnneTudor, Robin4, Cyberbook, and Guest for the reviews on the last chapter. Enjoy, everyone.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors or any of the characters, Showtimes does.
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Margery sighed as she mournfully gazed down at the blanket she had embroidered. She had taken every care to ensure that each stitch was as close to perfect as she could manage, wanting to make sure her gift would be beautiful. Now, it served as a reminder of the little brother or sister she would now never have.
"What a sibling you would have been," she murmured softly, now gazing into the fire crackling in the fireplace. "You would have been so loved. I know Mother wanted another boy, but I would have been just as happy if you were a girl. Lizbeth and Mary have always been such good older sisters to me, and I'm sure I could have been one to you...Edward and Harry and Geoffrey would have been happy too. They would have had a baby sister to look after. They would be brave and loyal and never let anyone hurt you. But maybe we'll see each other someday in Heaven. And then we'd never have to say goodbye."
The young princess's shoulders shook as a quiet sob escaped her throat, tears now softly trailing down her pale cheeks as she clutched the blanket close to her chest.
But then, in an instant, she flung the cloth, embroidery and all straight into the fireplace, watching as though transfixed as several embers latched on and smoke began rising from the cloth.
She continued to watch, even as the cloth burned until nothing remained but ashes.
...
Henry groaned softly as he rose from his bed.
He could not explain why he had been feeling so poorly as of late. All he knew was that there seemed to be pains in his back and parts of his chest. But he couldn't explain how it came about, nor even could his physician Dr. Linacre.
As he leaned against the wall to steady himself, he wondered if perhaps it might have been the stress of the past events; losing his new child, his wife's irrational behavior...
"Your Majesty?"
One of his grooms entered the room, but when he saw his sovereign's obvious discomfort, he looked concerned.
"Your Majesty, are you alright?" he asked.
"Of course I am," Henry answered, his tone more authoritative than he felt.
He sat back on the bed, forcing himself to do so as though it wasn't agony.
"Fetch Dr. Linacre at once," he ordered. "I must speak with him."
The groom looked confused, but only for a moment before bowing and hurrying to do the king's bidding.
...
Mary smiled down at her stomach as she laid a hand upon it.
Even now, she could scarcely believe that someday soon, she would at long last be a mother, just as she had always hoped to be.
Her old governess, Lady Maragaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, had once told her back when she was a little girl that one must be grateful for the blessings that they had in life rather than forever bemoan what they did not have. She had lost her mother and the right to call herself princess. She had also lost any hope of maintaining the loving bond she had once had with her stepmother Queen Jane.
Yet, she had gained so many other things; wonderful relationships with all of her half-siblings, even those whom had been mothered by Anne Boleyn, whom Mary still could not bring herself to fully like, and likely never would. She had also gained reconciliation with her long-estranged father, and of course her loving husband and the precious child that she now carried inside of her.
She wondered, would it be a boy or a girl? She was wise enough to know things would be a bit tense if she were to bear a son, whom her father might secretly fear would try to usurp Harry's claim to the throne.
Mary wished she could reassure her worried father that there was no cause for such fear. But as with years ago when the twin princes were but infants, if she tried to assure him there was no reason for concern, it would only agitate him further and lead him to believe there was reason to fear. And even still, there was no guarantee that the babe in her womb was even a boy. It could just as likely be a girl.
Phillip had stated that he cared not the sex of the baby, only desiring to be a father. Mary knew that he would be a wonderful one.
Sadly, she was fully confident that he would be a far better one to their son or daughter than her own father King Henry had been to her.
It was no secret that Phillip did not take mistresses, as would have been his right. He had even promised her on their wedding night that he would do no such thing.
"I swear to you by all that is good that I shall never bed another lady," he had whispered into her ear as he gently caressed her cheek, the stone of his ring nearly brushing the corner of her lip.
"Phillip..."
"My word is my bond, Mary," he shushed her gently. "I have no intention of ever allowing anyone to hold the place that is yours alone, my beloved wife. How could I seek out what is already here for me? I have the perfect woman that I could want, what care I for others?"
Mary had blinked back the tears as he said these words. Had her own father uttered them to her mother as they readied for what would have been the birth of their firstborn child? Only for him to seek solace elsewhere when the babe died. Only for him to repeatedly forsake his wife for other woman, with no regard for the pain and humiliation he was forcing his loving and loyal wife to endure.
Was it now to be her turn?
No, it was not.
Phillip was a very genial man, a true gentleman if ever there was one, and more than once he paid compliments to the ladies of the Bavarian court. But never once did Mary catch him giving a lady one of the secret looks that were not truly secret that her father had been so fond of giving to the ladies of his own court. Nor did any of her own ladies disappear mysteriously for a span of time that just happened to coincide with the periods of absence of her husband.
She was truly fortunate and she knew it. Her husband clearly adored her as much as she did him, and she knew their child would never doubt his or her father's love as she had so often doubted hers.
...
Jane fought back the tears as she returned to her apartments.
Henry had brazenly set eyes upon another woman right in front of her! And not just any woman. No, he had made the pain so much worse by choosing none other than that little snip Ursula Bryan!
Ursula Bryan, formerly Lady Misseldon, had come to court to be with her husband, Sir Francis. And as if that hadn't been bad enough, she had to flaunt their young daughter, named Anne. No doubt for Francis's cousin.
"I pity that poor child," Dorothy remarked, attempting to cheer her fuming sister. "I should hate to share my name with my father's whore cousin."
"Henry even stated that it was a lovely name!" Jane snapped. "It's as if he has no care for the pain he causes me! He has even stated his eagerness to meet Mary's child when the time comes! He shows more concern for the child of a bastard than his own child! Our child!"
"Sister, please," Dorothy said softly, placing a hand upon Jane's arm and guiding her to a chair. "I understand."
Jane ignored her. She couldn't truly understand. Not when she had never lost a child.
Sometimes the memories still haunted the queen's dreams. Her cries as the blood poured from her and she saw the child who had never even drawn his first breath.
His...
Dr. Liancre had come quickly, though not quickly enough to save the child. He had been so composed when he informed Jane that the tiny life she had carried had been a male.
Henry had been so cold when he first learned of the loss. But when he learned that the babe would have been another prince, he had away from Jane as though her very presence disgusted him.
"Had you behaved as you did before, we would have our boy," he had all but growled. "You lost our boy over petty jealousy."
He had stalked off after that, oblivious to the agony his words had caused his wife. Or perhaps, he was aware of it and either did not care or had intended to hurt her. It certainly felt like the latter.
Her pain had only increased when she received word of Lady Mary's own pregnancy. From what Margery had said, Mary was faring well, as was the baby, and Duke Phillip always treated her with kindness and tenderness.
Her pain had increased, as did her fury. How dare her wretched bastard stepddaughter carry the child of the man she loved? Especially when she, a staunch Catholic, had married a heretical duke?
She had wanted Mary to be married off so she could do no harm to Edward's claim to the throne, but now she had what Jane had been unfairly robbed of?
Edward, her brother, had become increasingly hostile to Jane herself. He had not physically struck her since that last unpleasant encounter, but he always seemed to have a special look of hatred for her whenever he set eyes on her. Could he not see that she was suffering? Or, like her husband, did he simply not care?
Would there be any relief for her?
The door opened, and in walked her sister Elizabeth.
"Sister," she said with a gleam of delight in her eye. "I have found someone to fulfill the task."
...
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I hope you all enjoyed this, and the next chapter will be out on Saturday, August 15th. Until then, everyone.