Hello! This is my first Tudors story. I've been in this fandom for a long time, and I've mainly observed until now. I've written this in response to the Tiny Tudors challenge on the forum, and it will be a multi-chaptered AU.

I'm sorry if it seems out of character, but feel free to send criticisms. I love it!

CHAPTER ONE

June 15th, 1533

There had been multiple kicks.

Henry the Eighth, King of England and Lord of Ireland, was stunned into silence as the midwife examining his wife confirmed that there had been multiple kicks in the womb, ensuring him that they were to have more than one child, come autumn.

"Are you absolutely sure?" He questioned the midwife, a woman by the name of Mistress Stafford, as she pressed and prodded against the belly of Anne Boleyn.

"As certain as one can be, Majesty," Mistress Stafford confirmed, moving her hands from the Queen's stomach and giving him a gentle smile. "Come September, Your Majesties will have three Princes and Princesses in the royal nursery."

"Triplets?" Anne practically whispered the word, amazed at what she was hearing. She had expected twins, as her belly had grown far larger than what was usual for a woman as far along as she, but she had not anticipated that she was carrying triplets. And on her first pregnancy, too!

"Three sons," Henry was as amazed as Anne, speaking the words as if he was in a daze. The prospect of Anne having triplets on her first pregnancy was a blessing, and surely proof that their marriage had been blessed by God. God willing, Anne would deliver three healthy sons, but he would also be satisifed with a daughter– as long as he got an heir and a spare.

No. He would not refer to his second son as a spare. He knew all too well what it felt like to be the second son, seen as inferior to the eldest just by virture of the order of their birth. Despite being a healthier and smarter child than he, Arthur was still hailed as the glorious prince who would carry on the Tudor legacy, while he had to settle for a career in the Church. It had caused him to resent his brother, and although he knew it to be a sin, made him relieved when he had died and paved the way for Henry to be the doted upon Prince of Wales. His second son would never know the despair that Henry felt as Arthur's spare; his little Duke of York would be an equal to their oldest son, so that he would never have cause to resent him. Perhaps, once their sons were grown, he would be his brother's most trusted advisor.

"We will have to have more cribs ordered," Henry said finally, reminding himself to have Cromwell order two more cribs for the royal nursery.

Anne smiled at the thought of their nursery being full with children so soon into their marriage, rubbing her stomach some as she looked up at Henry with hope in her eyes. With God's help, she would be able to give him a healthy son, or two healthy sons in this one pregnancy, as she knew the odds of her having three sons were bordering on impossible. She didn't want to think about what would happen if all of the children were daughters, or, even worse, one or all of the children were stillborn. No, she wouldn't think of it. She was so close to having everything that she could taste the sweetness of her victory already– Anne, the Queen of England who had fulfilled her promise to her husband and the world by birthing the Golden Children of England, ensuring that she would never lose her place or slip from her husband's affections as so-called Queen Catherine had.

God willing, her children would bring England into a golden age.

September 7th, 1533

Anne's labor had begun several hours ago, but there was still so sign of it coming to an end soon.

Henry paced around the small room back and forth, with his father-and-brother-in-law, closest friend, and his closest advisor all staring at him with concerned looks on their faces, unsure how to ease the tension in the room. "Why is it taking so long?" He demanded, his voice marred with worry at the fact that his wife's labor was proving to be long and difficult. He directed his attention to Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, the concerned glare on his face an indicator for the other man to say something.

"I'm sure that we'll hear something soon, Your Majesty," He reassured him, forcing himself to look concerned for Anne's safe, earning a look of contempt from both Thomas and George Boleyn. Truth be told, he didn't really care how long Anne Boleyn's labor lasted, as he knew that whatever outcome it was wouldn't be a good one. Better the bitch should die in childbirth before she can do anymore damage, He thought, his mind thinking back to the day of her coronation when someone attempted to assassinate her. If only the gunman had not missed!

He had never seen Henry look this worried before, not even when Queen Catherine was in childbirth; something that filled him with dread and contempt. Thank God that his new wife, Catherine Brooke, had helped him to see how much damage that the woman was doing, causing him to shift his allegiance from the Boleyn faction of the court to... whatever faction supported Queen Catherine, he supposed.

He did not even want to think of what would happen if Anne Boleyn birthed a healthy son or two, or even worse, three healthy sons. He would rather the woman give Henry daughters, or even better, stillborns. If they're even Henry's children to begin with, He told himself, thinking of the rumors that Anne had once been the lover of Thomas Wyatt, and even Henry Percy. He had tried to inform Henry of the rumors himself, blinded with the belief that his friend would listen to him over a girl that he, in his opinion, barely knew, but he had severely underestimated Henry's love for her, causing his friend to defend her tenfold. What did Henry see in her? Catherine of Aragon was a true Queen, a pious woman worthy of every respect, while Anne Boleyn was nothing more than an ill-tempered upstart, blinded by her own ambition for the throne that she did not care who she hurt.

It was wrong, and he would forever regret the part that he played in her rise to prominence.

"Her Majesty is a strong woman," Thomas Cromwell spoke up, attempting to ease the King's mind away from Anne's long labor and towards her good qualities. "She has faced tougher challenges before, and overcome them, even if she struggled whilst doing it." In particular, he was thinking of the Great Matter, which had taken years to resolve thanks to the corruption of the Catholic Church, as well as when the Queen caught the sweating sickness and survived. According to George Boleyn, the doctor had thought there was no hope, and last rites had been administered to her before she miraculously woke up and recovered in time. He had been relieved when he heard the news of Anne's survival, as it was well known to him that she was a reformer and she would be the one to be able to sway the King's mind away from popery and towards a new church, one free of the superstition and idolatry that binded people to the evil of the church in Rome.

Henry could not deny that that was true. Anne was a strong woman, perhaps the strongest woman that he knew. They had braved so much together; Catherine of Aragon, sweating sickness, the Holy Roman Emperor, and the Pope, among others. Someone had even tried to assassinate one of them on the day of her coronation! If he and Anne could brave those obstacles together, there was no telling what she could do on her own. But he could not help but be worried. What if one of their sons was positioned wrong? What if they were stillborn? What if Anne developed childbed fever?

That was his worst fear. His mother had died from childbed fever, and he couldn't handle the thought of his Anne sharing the same fate as she. He would give anything to save Anne if it had come to that, but, God willing, it wouldn't have to.

"Would you like me to send a messenger to the Queen's apartments, Your Majesty?" Thomas Boleyn spoke up, seizing the opportunity he saw while carefully masking his concern. While he was worried about the progress of Anne's labor, as natural for a father when his daughter was giving birth for the first time, he would be the first to admit that he was more concerned for his grandchildren than he was about Anne. It was different with Mary's difficult labor, as she had not birthed royal children, but worh Anne, it was crucial that his grandchildren were born alive and healthy, even if it cost Anne her life.

If Anne succeeded in giving the King a son, it would cement the Boleyn family and the Howard family in his good graces forever, ensuring that he would never cast them aside or promote the interests or political ambitions of those that would work against them, not when there was a chance that he might die before the little Prince of Wales reached his majority. Even better, he would likely be granted a dukedom, something that he could pass onto George, and George could pass onto his own son.. whenever George decided to get married. Maybe, after Anne gave the King his son, he would talk to him about arranging a marriage between George and a daughter of a nobleman, or perhaps a wealthy heiress whose father he could elevate to a peerage, so that George could absorb those lands and titles into the family name after marriage. Perhaps he could arrange for an advantageous second marriage for Mary as well, although that would be much more difficult, given the fact that she had living children from her first husband, as well as the reputation that his eldest child had managed to make for herself.

"I can go, Majesty," George Boleyn offered, immediately readying himself to depart from the room. While he knew that a great many things depended on whether or not Anne would deliver a healthy son today, he did not care for any of it in the moment, his concern for his sister written all over his face. Anne had been his closest companion since childhood, and although they had somewhat drifted apart since they became pawns in their father and uncle's political games, he continued to hold her in high esteem, and he would give anything to make sure that she had a safe and painless delivery. He would never say it aloud, but he would rather his nieces or nephews be stillborn if it meant that he wouldn't lose his sister in childbirth.

He missed her. It pained him to know that they had drifted apart; although they still saw and spoke to each other everyday, their relationship just wasn't the same anymore, and that was something that he would never, ever forgive his father for. After the birth, he would make an effort to reconcile with Anne, to sit down and talk with her and get to see how his dear younger sister had truly evolved since the first rift in their relationship began. It was the least he could do for her, after everything.

Henry could sense that George Boleyn was, perhaps, the only person in the room that was just as concerned for Anne as he was, or maybe even more concerned than he was. Anne might be his wife, but she was George's younger sister, and from what Anne had told him, they had always been close to each other when they were children, something that had begun to change after Anne's return to England and introduction to court. They may had drifted apart, but George had known Anne their entire lives and he was sure that nothing and no one would be able to stop George from getting to his sister to make sure that she was alive. If one thing was certain, it was that George Boleyn was a very chivalrous man, and Henry admired that in his brother-in-law. Perhaps when this was over, Henry would grant George an earldom or a dukedom in his own right, so that he would not have to inherit his titles from his father.

He nodded in response to George's offer to check on Anne, watching as his brother-in-law ran from the room as fast as he could with a hardened expression, as he did not want his face to betray his feelings. As a king, he could not show any weakness whatsoever– no matter who it was for.

Please, God, watch over my wife. He prayed inwardly, his heart pounding in his chest as if it was going to stop altogether. Please.

"I can see the head!" Mistress Stafford shouted, much to the relief of Anne and the women attending her, as they had not only begun to worry about the progress of their mistress's labor as much as the Queen herself was, but they had also begun to tire of hearing her almost screams of pain. Mistress Stafford, however, was an experienced midwife, and she was so used to the cries coming from a woman in labor that Queen Anne's hollering and wailing did not phase her in the slightest. It seemed that the only other woman in the room that was not at least somewhat irritated by the Queen's screams was the Lady Mary Carey, formerly known as Mary Boleyn, the Queen's own sister!

Mary dabbed a cloth against Anne's head, whispering kind words of encouragement into her sister's ear that she hoped would make her feel better. She could relate to Anne's plight, as she, too, knew what a long and difficult labor felt like, and while the kind words might have been meaningless to anybody else, they had done wonders for her during her own labor. It pained her to see how much pain her youngest sibling was in, and although she knew that there was nothing that she could do about it, she did wish that there was something that could be done to ease her sister's suffering.

"You're so brave," Mary whispered to Anne, which was followed by a loud shriek from the Queen, who also squeezed Nan Saville's hand as tightly as she could. Mistress Stafford positioned herself to be able to grab the baby, and looked up towards Queen Anne and her sister.

"Alright, Majesty, I need you to give us one big push," She instructed firmly, leaving no room for Anne to cry or say that she could not do it.

Anne looked up at the ceiling, as if she were looking to God Himself, praying for her first child to make a safe delivery. She let out another loud wail as she squeezed the hands of her sister and Nan Saville, falling back onto the pillow as the loud cries of a child leaving her womb filled the room. She dissolved into tears almost instantly, her vision getting clouded and her breath heaving as she looked up to Mary with a concerned and nervous look on her face.

"What is it?" She demanded, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Mary wiped the hairs away from her sweating face and dabbed her forehead with the cloth again, a wide grin spreading across her face as she delivered the news. "Your Majesty had given birth to a healthy son."

"A son..." Anne had not even had the time to process what her sister had said before another wave of pain passed through her body, causing her to lift her head up and wail in pain. Mistress Stafford, who had not moved from her position after passing the first child to an assistant, held Anne's leg steadily with one of her hands as the Queen continued to move in pain.

"Now that the first child has been born, things will go much smoother, Majesty," She assured the Queen, who had begun to clutch Nan Saville and Mary Carey's hand with a Herculean grip. "Now, I need you to give me another big push."

Anne let out the loudest cry of the day as George Boleyn entered the room, his heart racing and himself nearly out of breath from running so fast. "What's happened? How is the Queen?" He questioned as soon as he entered, his voice quickly being overshadowed by another baby's cry.

"Her Majesty has given birth to a healthy son and a healthy daughter, it seems," Mary explained, her face beaming with pride as the second child was handed off to a lady-in-waiting to be cleaned and wrapped in cloth.

"A son?" George could scarcely believe his ears. His little sister, his sweet Annie, had given birth to a Prince of Wales. His thoughts were cut short when Anne left out another sob of pain, although he did make out her whisper of his name. He instantly rushed over to the bedside and knelt besides Mary, allowing Anne to clutch his hand as tightly as she needed to in order to deliver the last baby. He would bring the news to His Majesty after his sister was safely delivered.

Anne felt so weak, as if all of the life was being drained out of her with each new delivery, but she was determined to deliver the last child. Tightening her grip on the hands of George and Nan, she pushed as hard as she could, leaving out a loud gasp as the child left her womb and began to wail.

"Your Majesty has given us another little princess," Mistress Stafford confirmed, handing the third child off to be cleaned and standing up.

"Two daughters?" Anne felt disappointed in herself for feeling disappointed, as even though she had given the King his long desired son, she had given him two daughters and a son instead of two sons and a daughter. No, she had done her duty to her husband and to England; her daughters were hers, and she would love them just as much as she would love her son. "My sweet daughters, and my son," She whispered, tears of relief falling down her face.

"Your Majesty has done well," Mary smiled, dabbing the wet cloth against her sister's forehead again to cool her down.

"Too well," George echoed, looking down at his reddened hand with astonishment at how firm Anne's grip was. "At least it's over," He stated, beginning to stand up just as Anne felt another pain rush through her. He watched as Anne let out a loud scream, grabbing his hand again and pulling him back down to her side.

"Mistress Stafford!" Mary called out helplessly, her eyes widening in horror as the midwife ran back to her charge with such a speed that it had startled her. "What is it? What's going on?" She questioned as Mistress Stafford examined the Queen's stomach and womb, a shiver going down her spine as she imagined the worst.

"There is another baby still in the womb," Mistress Stafford declared, pushing down on Anne's stomach once more with a look of concern on her face. "If Her Majesty can give one large push, we shall be able to deliver the child quickly." She determined, feeling somewhat guilty that her calculation had been off. She got herself back into position to be able to grab the child, with a few of the Queen's attendants rushing to their mistress's side.

"George, you go to His Majesty and tell him the news," Mary instructed him, returning to her siblings's side and preparing to take Anne's hand away from George. "I will stay with the Queen."

"I can't do it," Anne cried out, her hand clutching George's even tighter as she sobbed. She was so tired, and in so much pain, and it hurt the other two Boleyn siblings to see their sister like this. Anne had always been fierce and formidable, and seeing her resolve weaken made them uncomfortable, to say the least. George looked to Mary, and Mary looked to George, both with the same understanding look– neither of them was going to leave their sister's side.

"You only have to push one more time, Your Majesty," Mary encouraged her, putting her hand atop Anne's and George's while brushing the hair away from her sister's sweaty face. "Once more, and then it will be over."

Anne looked towards her two siblings, seeing the encouraging looks on their faces and practically choking on her own sobs. She nodded her head and squeezed the hands of her siblings and closest confidante, letting out an ear piercing scream as the fourth baby was safely delivered.

Mistress Stafford sighed in relief as she held the baby in her arms, then passing it into the arms of the closest lady to her. She smiled to herself, then stood up and looked down at the sobbing Queen being comforted by her two siblings. "Your Majesty has delivered of another healthy son."

"Where is he?" Henry's pacing had only quickened since George left nearly an hour ago, his worries only increasing with each passing minute. He knew that it did not take long to reach Anne's apartments, and he knew that it would take an even shorter amount of time to get an update and return with the news. Had George gotten sidetracked? Had something happened to Anne?

"Perhaps Lord Rochford was sidetracked on his way to the Queen's apartments, Majesty," Suffolk spoke up, seizing the opportunity to attempt to discredit the Boleyn son in the King's eyes. "He is, after all, a notorious womanizer."

Thomas Boleyn let out a low growl at Suffolk's suggestion. "Or, perhaps he is still in the Queen's apartment tending to his beloved sister, my Lord of Suffolk," He suggested, watching as the King's eyes softened after the words left his mouth, something that he considered to be a victory. "It is well-known at court that Lord Rochford holds the Queen, his sister, in a high regard, so perhaps he sought to stay by her side in her hour of need, something that only the most chivalrous of men do."

Boleyn's words caused Henry to snap his head up in realization. Of course; his father-in-law had the answer with him all along! He needed to go to her, his sweet Anne, and be with her as she delivered their sons. They had faced all of their greatest trials together, so it was only fair that they faced this one together as well. Anne would deliver their sons with him by his side, and there was nothing that anybody could say or do to stop him.

"Perhaps you are right, Lord Wiltshire," Henry mused, turning to Cromwell. "I am going to see my Queen." He declared, to the shock of all of the other men in the room.

"Your Majesty-" Suffolk began, but it was too late, as the King had already rushed out of the room, the Earl of Wiltshire following close behind.

Henry rushed through the halls as fast as he could, ignoring the announcements being made as he entered and the curtseys and conversations that his courtiers started behind him. He gradually made his way to the Queen's apartments, storming into the rooms with such a ferocity that it startled all of those present.

He had expected to see a commotion around his wife, but instead, she was laying in the bed peacefully, holding a small bundle close to her heart and cooing at it. Anne looked up at Henry, and although her face was still stained with tears from the difficulty of birth, she looked just as he did the last time he had saw her; every care had been done for his wife in the aftermath of their children's birth, and he was grateful for it.

"Henry," She whispered, her voice sounding as if she were in some far-off dream. "Come and meet your sons."

"Sons.." Henry felt as if his knees would collapse on him as she spoke, eyeing the bundle in her arms. Had Anne really done it? Had she really given him the sons that he had waited so long for? The proud looks on the faces of Mary Carey and George Boleyn, who were also holding a child each, seemed to say it all. "Three of them.."

"Actually, Your Majesty," Mistress Stafford interrupted, coming from behind the monarch holding another child. "Her Majesty had quadruplets, two sons and two daughters– all of them healthy. And, my apologies for the miscalculation," She added hastily, not willing to offend her King by refusing two acknowledge her mistake. She held the small bundle of blanket containing a child out to him, which he gladly accepted.

"Four of them?" Henry was astounded, the words being spoken at the same time that his father-in-law spoke from behind him. He looked down at the bundle in his arms, a gentle smile crossing his face as the child's lips pursed together. "Is this the oldest son?" He asked, unsure as to which child was which.

Anne shook her head and smiled. "No, Henry; that's our oldest daughter." She explained, brushing her fingers against the face of their eldest son.

"The oldest prince is with the Queen, Lord Rochford is holding the little Duke of York, and the Lady Mary Carey is holding the youngest daughter." Nan Saville explained, her expression looking just as proud as that of the Boleyns. "Mistress Stafford had to examine the elder daughter for a moment, as she stopped crying relatively quickly compared to the other children and feared that something may have been wrong. Luckily, everything was fine, and it looks as though Her Highness will enjoy a long and prosperous life, God willing."

"Thank you, Nan," Anne smiled at her closest friend, nodding her head to dismiss her from the room so that she could have a private moment with her family.

Henry walked across the room to his wife's bedside, taking the bundle with the Duke of York from George and joining his wife on the now-clean bed. "You did so well, sweetheart," He whispered, kissing her on the forehead and looking down at three of their four children. Mary handed the youngest daughter to them, letting out a slight giggle at the sight of her sister and the King trying to balance the four babies between each other as her and George left the rooms. "Which one was delivered first?"

"Our son, and then our two daughters," Anne kissed her husband's cheek and looked down to the children. "The Duke of York was the surprise," She admitted, Henry chuckling slightly.

"Our mischevious son," He declared, kissing the little Duke of York on the head.

"Shall I have Mister Cromwell order the bells to be rung, Your Majesty?" Boleyn asked, unable to hide the glee from his face. At last, everything that he had hoped for was coming true– his daughter had given birth to not nust one, but four healthy children, including two sons, he was the grandfather to the future King, and he would surely be made a duke before the end of the year. Everything had gone according to plan.

"At once," Henry agreed, his smile becoming wider at the giggles of the Boleyn siblings as their father promptly rushed from the Queen's apartments. His focus turned back to Anne, who seemed so mesmerized at their children that one might think that they had cast a spell on her. He was so pleased with her, he could not describe it. He finally had a son– two sons! – that would carry on the Tudor legacy, and better yet, Anne had given him two legitimate princesses in the same birth, princesses that would undoubtedly grow up and become royal consorts to the various Princes of Europe. There was no doubt about it, now: his marriage to Anne was blessed by God.

Anne did not take her eyes off of the children, her sweet princes and princesses. She had done her duty to her cluntry and her husband by providing him with two male heirs, something that Catherine of Aragon had failed at seven times over. All of those pregnancies, and all she had to show for it was a son who lived for barely two months, and one sickly daughter, whilst Anne gave her husband four healthy children in one term. She had won. Her place in Henry's heart and his court was sealed for the rest of her life, and one day, a Tudor-Boleyn child would bring England into a Golden Age.

"The Golden Children of England," The daze in Anne's voice did not go away, the soft smile on her face enhanced by the twinkle of her dark eyes. Perhaps the best part of the entire ordeal was her children's appearances. She heard the rumors about her with Thomas Wyatt and Henry Percy, and she knew that some members of the courts in England and continental Europe alike regarded her as little more than a whore, but her children's resemblances to Henry's family were so severe that it would be impossible for anyone to doubt their parentage; whether they accepted her as Queen or not, no one could say that her children were not of Tudor blood.

"What shall we name our sons?" Henry asked, unable to hide his glee at finally, finally being able to ask his wife that question. The fact that she had given him two healthy sons had only made it better, and he felt as if his heart would jump out of his chest at any second.

Anne looked up at Henry, then back down to their oldest son in contemplation. She remembered the conversation that they had where they discussed possible names for their son. Their first instinct was to name him Thomas, after her father and the Duke of Norfolk, but they had decided against it after a hearty debate about which man would claim to be the namesake first. George was another name that came up, and while Henry was partial towards it, she knew that her father would never forgive her if she named her firstborn son after a Boleyn that wasn't him. It would have to be either Henry or Edward.

"The oldest will be Edward," Anne said finally, looking back up at Henry with a smile. "Our Edward."

Henry's short-lived son by the Dowager Princess of Wales had been named Henry, and while it had been over twenty years since the child had lived and died, she was sure that he was still in her husband's memory and heart. Besides, she would not want the Duke of Richmond, sweet Hal Fitzroy, to have to share a name with his brother; it wouldn't be fair to him.

"Edward," Henry tested the name out, repeating it over and over again until he was satisfied with it. It was the perfect name for their son, the little golden Prince. "Our son will be invested with the title Prince of Wales as soon as you're strong enough to attend the ceremony, sweetheart." He declared. Duke of Cornwall would be fine, for now. "And our Duke of York?"

She paused for a moment, think over the possible names. "Edmund; for your grandfather." She added after seeing the puzzled look on Henry's face. It was not a common name for a royal prince, but it was one that she was fond of nonetheless.

"Edmund Tudor, Duke of York," Henry mumbled aloud, to see how it sounded. "A fine name for our son," He spoke a little louder, so that Anne would hear him, his face beaming with pride at the little Duke of York, who was now fast asleep.

"What shall we name our daughters?" Anne asked, brushing her finger against little Edward's cheek again. They had been so sure that they would have three sons that they had not even considered names for a daughter, much less two.

"Our older daughter will be Elizabeth," Henry said decisively, looking down at the little bundle in his arms, only to be greeted with a wide-eyed stare from the girl. She was so curious and clever already, and she had only just been born– traits that would surely last for her, and hopefully be shown in her brothers and sister.

"For your mother and mine," Anne agreed, her smile growing wider at the thought. "What about our younger daughter?"

"Katherine?" Henry suggested, half in jest and half serious. Katherine was a fine name; his youngest sister had been named Katherine before her untimely death, but he knew that if they had chosen to name the daughter Katherine, his courtiers and the common people would take it as a sign that he was showing favor to the Dowager Princess of Wales. Or, even worse, they would believe that Anne had chosen the name just to spite her rival.

Nevertheless, Anne laughed at the suggestion. She would delight in naming her daughter Katherine, although she, like Henry, knew that it could never come to pass. And if Katherine was not a suitable name, then Mary was out of the question, too.

"She should have her own name," Anne whispered, thinking over the possible names in her head. The other three children had names that began with the letter E, so she supposed that it was only fair that the same applied to their youngest daughter. "Eleanor," She said finally, looking up at her spouse with a determined look on her face. "Let her be Eleanor."

"Eleanor it is," Henry agreed, brushing his thumb against little Eleanor's cheek as she cooed. "Let's see Catherine of Aragon and the Pope say that our marriage is cursed by God now," He said, his voice smug and his eyes confident.

"Your Majesty, if I may," Boleyn said once the silence settled, startling Henry, who had not noticed he had rejoined the room. "But, as you recall, Your Majesty bestowed upon the Lady Mary, your bastard daughter, the title of Princess of Wales."

Henry's eyes darkened as he noticed Anne paling slightly while Boleyn spoke, although he did not dare to interrupt him, wanting to see what his point was. "As much, I think that it is only right and proper that Your Majesty bestow titles, perhaps peerages, upon your legitimate daughters, who might pass them onto their own sons someday, God willing. Otherwise, people may think that you are showing favor to the Lady Mary, who continues to claim the title of Princess of Wales despite it being known that your so-called marriage to Dowager Princess Catherine was declared null and void."

That was true. Mary had obstinately refused to bend to her father's will and recognize that his 'marriage' to Catherine had been declared invalid, proclaiming that she was the Princess of Wales and the only heir to the throne of England. If he continued to let her claim she was legitimate and the Princess of Wales without consequences, he knew that people may think that he favored his oldest daughter over his two younger ones – his little Tudor roses – and he couldn't have that.

"Very well," Henry stated, looking down at Eleanor and Elizabeth. "Elizabeth shall henceforth be known as the Princess Royal, a title that will be reserved only for the King's eldest legitimate daughter. She will also be created the Duchess of Bedford, a title that my great-uncle once had. Eleanor will henceforth be known as the Duchess of Clarence and of Hereford– to make up for her lack of a title such as Elizabeth's." He clarified, much to Anne's shock.

"Henry.." She started, although Henry quickly cut her off.

"I want to show you how much I love our children," He interrupted, leaning down to kiss her hand. "No one will ever be allowed to doubt you or our children's rights again," He vowed.

"You're too kind to me," Anne smiled, her heart fluttering with gratitude at the generosity that Henry was showing their children.

"And, one more thing. In honor of our children's birth, I shall elevate four men– not counting your father and brother," He had already decided to elevate them, so he did not want Anne to choose them. "And I want you to do the honors of choosing the men."

"Me?" Anne nearly gasped in shock. Henry had never come to her with such a matter before. How was she supposed to pick four men for Henry to raise to the peerage, or raise even higher, for that matter. She did not have many allies at court, as of now, although she suspected that now that she had birthed the Golden Children of England, people would be more willing to accept her as Queen and align themselves with her.

No. She would pick men that were loyal to her from the start.

"Mister Cromwell," She started, picking the man who had been loyal to their marriage and the Reformation from the start. She knew that Cromwell had begun making powerful enemies at court, due to the fact that he was lowborn even compared to simple knights, so hopefully, being elevated to the peerage might be able to have Cromwell form more powerful allies.

"My uncle, Sir Edmund Howard," She continued, earning a look of confusion from her husband at the odd choice. "I hear that he has not been able to continue affording his children's upkeep despite his new post in Calais, and he has always been kind to me."

Henry nodded at the explanation, so she continued. It had been on the tip of her tongue to say Thomas Wyatt, although she knew that Henry did not care for him much, so she changed her mind. "Sir Francis Weston," She thought of the youth with slight enthusiasm, as he had seemed so eager to be her ally, something that proved helpful as he was knighted during her coronation in June. She had found a friend in him, a true friend, and she was grateful for that.

"And the last one?" Henry prodded, curious to see who his wife would pick.

Anne bit her lip in confusion. She did not think of anyone else she could choose, as everyone else was already well-off or was not well-liked by Henry, something that worried her. She thought about it for a minute or two, before her face lit up with determination. "My sister, Mary," She declared, a smile growing at Henry's confused face.

"In her own right?"

Anne nodded. "When Mary is called to God, she will be able to pass the title to her son, and her son will be able to pass it onto his sons, and so on; much like how one of our sons will inherit my title of Marquess of Pembroke."

Henry had not thought of it like that when she first stated her sister, although once Anne explained it, it made more sense to her. Mary was the sister of a Queen, after all, as well as aunt to the future King of England. "If that's what you want," He conceded, kissing Anne's cheek as the smile on her face grew into the largest grin he had ever seen.

"It is," She confirmed, looking back to the children and sighing contently.

Her children were healthy, and highly favored by their father. Her sister and brother were going to be made peers in their own rights. Her husband was proud of her, and her place as Queen was secure for the rest of her life.

Life was perfect.

And, there you have it! Anne has delivered her quadruplets successfully, and things are looking up for her and Henry.. for now.

Next chapter will include the reactions of some certain anti-Anne people, the christening of the quadruplets, and ennobling of the men chosen by Anne, among other things. Until then, goodbye!