Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.

A/N: Hello everyone! Very excited to start on part two of COTAR: Hourglass.

Ch. 1

With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence - o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,
And memory, like a drop that, night and day,
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!
~Thomas Moore

Whitehall 30 January 1536

Grace only watched as Anne's blood soaked into her bedspread, as she cried in horror as she lost her child. Grace could do nothing. She was no physician. She could only sit and hold Anne in her arms. She cared not that her dress was ruined, stained with blood. She only cared that Anne could get through this alive. She only hoped that Anne would not become traumatized after all this.

Eventually the bleeding stopped, and Anne ceased her crying. She appeared to have accepted the fact that her child was lost and that she could do nothing about it. The physician could do nothing as well, having stood in the other room while the women tended to Anne. He was useless in the entire matter.

Anne was removed from her bloody nightgown, the material stashed away with the cloth that had been used to stop her bleeding and the bed sheets that were ruined. She was washed as best as her ladies could do, her eyes watching as the water in the basin turned red. She was emotionless, she was numb. No one would speak to her, no one at daring to say a word in the aftermath of her loss. They all stood there like motionless statues. They all knew that her chance had gone, that her time was now fleeting. The women could only wonder how long it would take before the King burst into her chambers and revealed his anger to her.

Grace dismissed them to the queen's inner chambers after Anne had been taken care of. She knew that they would all be vying for Jane Seymour's favor now. They would turn on the Queen in a matter of months. Anne was no longer safe. She had no trustful ladies except for Nan. Not even her own cousin Madge would remain by her side. Grace was sure of it.

Grace kneeled at the bedside of Anne, holding her hand tightly as Anne started to weep again. "What will happen to me now?" Anne cried.

"Nothing will happen to you," Grace replied, "I promise I will let nothing happen to you." Grace tried to reassure Anne, but Anne only shook her head. She pulled Grace onto the bed beside her and laid her head in her lap. She started weeping once more, Grace comforting her by stroking her hair. She tried to remain strong. She could not cry in front of Anne, but a few tears managed to fall down her face before she wiped them from her cheek.

Suddenly, the doors to Anne's apartment slammed open. The king entered abruptly, a look of rage on his face. All of Anne's ladies bowed to him, more out of fear than formality. They were relieved to not be at the short end of the stick, much like Anne was at that moment. His anger was solely on Anne, though he faltered for a moment when he saw her appearance. Anne stopped sobbing, raising her head from Grace's lap to stare at the king. Grace wouldn't meet his eyes, looking anywhere, but at the king.

"You've lost my boy," Henry stated, his words eliciting a look of pain from Anne. "I cannot speak of it. The loss is too great." Anne remained silent, his words cutting to her very core. "But I see now that God will not grant me any male children." Anne sniffled, not believing he would be so cruel to her. "When you are up, I will speak with you." He went to depart, his eyes lingering on Grace a moment.

"It is not all my fault," Anne retorted. Henry halted in his steps. "You have no one to blame but yourself for this. I was distressed to see you with that wench, Jane Seymour." Anne's voice is filled with anguish as she cries out to Henry. She removes herself from Grace's lap, moving across the bed to the end of the structure. "Because the love I bear you is so great, it broke my heart to see you loved others."

Henry twisted around in his path, his eyes glaring at Anne's spiteful words. She had no clue what had transpired between him and Jane. He stepped towards Anne, Anne crawling back on the bed as she was frightened by his gaze. Grace finally looked up at him, reaching for Anne. Henry noticed the blood stains on her dress, and he narrowed his eyes at the sight.

"Do not speak, madam, when you have assumed instead of inquired about what you saw," Henry all but yelled at her. "You think you can speak to me this way when you lost my boy? You blame me instead of allowing me to comfort you? You blame me when all I have done is raised you to what you are?"

Anne shrunk back into Grace, cringing at the king's words. Grace sent him a venomous glare, holding her tongue so she wouldn't say something out of turn. She couldn't say anything now, not in public anyways. Henry could see Grace's hesitation and he clenched his jaw. She too would speak against him now if she dared.

"This is your fault," Anne repeated, gathering her courage to speak up to Henry. "You have lost your boy, not me. The distress you caused me has lost my boy."

"My boy!" Henry bellowed. "He was my boy!"

"Enough!" Grace shouted. She interrupted the fight between the royal couple, Anne in her arms and her eyes piercing Henry.

"Correct Lady Neville, it is enough." Henry approached the edge of the bed, grabbing Grace roughly by the arm and dragging her off the bed to her feet. Grace was taken by surprise, almost falling to the ground. Henry caught her, setting her on her feet before pulling her behind him. "I said I will speak with you when you are well," Henry spoke. Anne remained in bed staring aghast as Henry practically dragged Grace out of the room.

"No! Don't you take her from me!" Anne exclaimed. Henry ignored Anne screams, yanking Grace out of the queen's apartments and into the passages of the palace. The courtiers all stared at them as they passed, Cromwell's and Chapuy's eyes widening as he saw the two heading to the king's chambers.

Henry tugged Grace behind him until they reached the throne room, releasing her as they entered his private cambers. Grace moved as far away from him as possible, putting the table between them. Henry tried to approach her, but Grace quickly moved out of his reach.

"Don't touch me. You will never touch me again," Grace gritted our from between her teeth.

"Grace you need to calm down," Henry spoke. "I love you," he continued, trying to convey his sincerity in the tone of his voice.

"You don't love anyone but yourself," Grace retorted angrily back at him. She was throwing his words back at him as if they meant nothing to her, as if being loved by thing was the most awful thing in the world.

"Do not say that sweetheart." Henry reached for Grace, but she avoided him. "Grace, I beg you not to be this way and listen to me." Henry tried to plead with Grace, inching towards her slowly. "Let me explain what happened. You at least owe me that much."

However, Grace was having none of it and her tongue got the best of her before she could register what she was saying. "You are no King of England. You're a selfish man who only cares about himself and his pride. You care not for I nor Anne. Not even for Mary or Elizabeth. Just yourself, and yourself alone. Have your whore. Maybe you'll get some sons off of her, but they will be weak. You will never have another Mary or another Elizabeth. That slut is not Catherine or Anne. She's a pale-faced Seymour who will bring you nothing, but misery and your dynasty will fade with her. Only your daughters will be able to save you and your dynasty."

Henry, who was controlling his temper, became infuriated at her words. He raised his voice at her, speaking "I have been lenient with your words, but I suggest you watch yourself. Do not assume something that is not true. She is not my mistress. I did not kiss her, she kissed me. And as for Mary and Elizabeth, do not bring my daughters into this."

Grace was frightened by his anger for a moment before she regained her composure. "I have watched you destroy your family and I am part of that destruction. You stay away from me. I don't want any part of you anymore, just as you want another. How convenient for you, majesty."

Grace goes to leave the King's chambers, but he steps in her path. He remained a pillar in the way, refusing to move as Grace, determined, tried to push last him. Henry would not allow it, grabbing her upper arms roughly and pressing her between him and the table. Grace fought against him, throwing her body on every which way to break his grip, but he was too strong. She could not escape him as he pinned her arms behind her back with one hand and lifted her chin forcefully with the other. "Look at me," he said softly at first. Grace refused, her eyes glaring at his chest. "I said look at me!" His voice sharp and deadly. She still refused his demand. Henry dug his finger onto her chin, eliciting a loud yelp from her lips. She finally glared up at him, her nostrils flaring as she looked at him with a hint of malice in her eyes.

Henry delivered the same look, but as he stared at her blood soaked dress his gaze turned into blankness. Grace noted the change in attitude, but it disappeared within an instant and was replaced by Henry's cold, harsh gaze. His voice lowered into a deadly tone as he continued his conversation with Grace. "Turn around," he ordered her. Grace stared up at him with an incredulous look.

"Wh…what?" Grace stuttered.

"Turn around," Henry reiterated. Grace didn't move. She was frozen in place by the sound of his voice. Henry lowered his hand from her chin, grasping his elbows in his hands and turning her around. His hands reached for her laces and she began to tremble. She didn't understand what he was doing, and it frightened her. He untied her laces, beginning to pull the dress off her shoulders. She couldn't imagine what he was thinking at a time like this.

Grace stood there in her corset and skirt as the dress pooled around her feet. She wrapped her arms around her, unsure of what to do. "Go in my bedchamber," Henry continued. Grace didn't even bother to look at him, keeping her back to him as she followed his commands. She heard him give out a frustrated sigh as she sat in one of the chairs closest to the fireplace. She discarded her shoes, bringing her legs up so she could pull them against her chest. She was shivering not just from the cold, but from fear as well. She feared he would try and take her, force himself on her while he grieved for his child.

Grace heard Henry open the door to the throne room. "Fetch Christian Neville for me," he spoke to his page. "And tell him to bring a dress. Be discreet about it." The door shut and she heard Henry pace around in the other room before entering his bed chambers, her disheveled dress in his hands. He threw it on the ground immediately when he saw Grace's expression, approaching her and kneeling down in front of her. He tried to grasp her hands, but she backed away from him as far as possible in the chair.

"No, no, no," Grace cried at him. "Don't touch me. You think you can force yourself on me after what has happened, but I will not allow it. I'll scream."

Henry rose to his feet, his face turning red once more at her assumption. "You think me a monster? You think I would do that to you? For God's sake Grace, your dress is covered in blood." He was appalled that she would think he would want that from her in that moment. All he wanted was comfort, a woman's touch. He did not want sex.

A look of realization appeared on Grace's face while one of hurt painted Henry's. "How could you think that?" he questioned her. "I've just lost my child and you assume that I'm thinking of taking you. I would never take a woman's virtue from her unwillingly. You think so low of me?"

"After what you just did to Anne, I don't know what you are capable of," Grace responded through muffled tears. A pang of guilt ran through Henry as he stared at Grace, her body tense and on guard against him.

"I realize my actions may seem harsh to you, but with the condition that England is in, I need a son. England will not survive without a male heir," Henry spoke, his tone serious as he tried to explain himself to Grace. "All those years, Katherine gave me no living son. And now Anne…Anne promised me a son."

"She can still give you a son. She would have given you a son if you had not caused her to lose her child," Grace retorted, her tongue attacking him like a sharp whip.

"Hold your tongue when you speak to me!" Henry yelled back at her. Grace only glared at him defiantly.

The door to Henry's chambers opened, catching both Grace's and Henry's attention. Christian appeared in the king's inner chambers, a dress in his hands. He spotted her soiled dress on the floor, cringing when he saw the blood. "Majesty…Sister," he spoke, noticing the tension between the two. He had heard the queen wailing in her chambers, crying out for her child and for Grace. "Here," he continued, stepping towards Grace and handing her dress to her. She stared at the king and made a noise in her throat signaling she wanted him to leave.

Henry raised his eyebrows at her and gave her an unbelieving look. "For Christ's sake woman," he muttered under his breath, stepping out of his bedchambers and into his private chambers. Christian gave his sister. Questioning look, but she ignored it. Stepping into her gown, she turned around so her brother could tie her laces.

"What happened?" Christian pushed. Grace still ignored him, shoving past him and heading towards the door to the king's throne room to leave.

"Grace," Henry spoke impatiently. "Do not open that door." Grace didn't even falter as she opened the door to the throne room, walking hastily away from Henry and disobeying him. Henry stalked right after her, grabbing her arm harshly in front of the courtiers who stared at the scene in shock. Christian followed behind them, his brow furrowed in worry. He couldn't interrupt the king, but there the chance that Grace would step out of line and he could do nothing to stop her.

Grace tried to wrench her arm out of Henry's grip, but he wouldn't allow it . The two were locked in a deadly stare down, neither one budging from the other's intense look. It was completely silent, no one uttering a word as they watched the king and Grace. Grace was clearly upset with the king. Everyone could tell.

"Let go of me," Grace said softly, cautious of the courtiers around them. "I have nothing else to say to you."

Henry had two decisions: he could continue as he was now, let his anger get the best of him and fight with Grace in front of the courtiers or he could release her from his grip and speak with her after they had both calmed down. He chose the latter, letting go of Grace and watching as she turned her back on him. Christian followed after, muttering an apology for his sister as he hurried after her.

"Cromwell!" Henry exclaimed. Cromwell was glad of the rift between the two, having watched the scene with a satisfied smirk on his face. He nodded at the king, following him into his inner chambers. He waited for Henry speak, watching as the king took on a thoughtful expression.

"It's true what they have whispered. I shut my ears to them but now I know it to be true. And the evidence is that God will not permit us male issue. Will I take another wife?"

31 January 1536

Henry sat in his chambers as Dr. Linacre explained the prognosis of Anne's miscarriage and the growth of the child inside her womb, Henry staring at the corpse of his son which laid before him in a silver dish covered by a white cloth. "The child had the appearance of a male about four months old. However, the fetus there were signs of deformity…of abnormality." Henry sat numb in his chair, his eyes dead and black. "Perhaps, after all the queen's miscarriage was a blessing in disguise." Henry debated with himself for a moment, his face grim as he reached forward to lift the cloth. He looked at the child with disgust, waving for the page to take the body away. He let out a great sigh, pressing his fingers to his lips in thought as Dr. Linacre and his assistants exited the room. He wanted to cry, but he forced himself not to, locking inside his emotions and pushing them deep down so he could fool everyone, even himself.

1 February 1536

Mary studied Grace as she cast her a sideways glance while they walked side by side in the palace gardens. It was cold outside, both wearing thick cloaks to ward off the biting wind. Grace had decided to try and take her mind off the queen's miscarriage as well as the king's indiscretion. She had felt caged inside, thinking she would break at any moment. Mary had wanted to accompany her, not wanting Grace to be alone as Grace did not want the queen to be alone.

"Have you talked to the king again?" Mary questioned. Grace's face took on a sour look as she turned to Mary.

"Mary, I refuse to speak to your father." Mary lips formed into a thin line at Grace's answer.

"He is miserable," Mary stated. "He is at a loss what to do. You realize he has lost a child as well."

"He caused the loss of his child, Mary. He was not there when Anne was in pain. He was not there when she bled. There was blood, so much blood…" Grace's voice faltered for a moment, cracking as she tried to continue to speak. She struggled, urging herself to talk but she could not. She let out an anguished cry, collapsing in Mary's arms as she finally let her emotions run free. Mary held her, stroking her hair as she cried in her arms. She prayed to God that he would help heal not just Grace's heart, but Anne's well. Her father had caused so much pain. It only seemed right to pray.

3 February 1536

Cromwell was making his way towards the king's chambers when he spotted the male members of the Seymour family in the gallery before the throne room. He diverted his path towards him, the three men bowing to him when they noticed his presence.

"Mr. Secretary," Edward Seymour spoke. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"We don't know each other well, but we shall. I've every confidence," Cromwell quipped, guiding the Seymours into a more secluded corner of the gallery. "It is His Majesty's pleasure to appoint you a gentleman of the privy chamber. In that capacity, you will attend His Majesty daily and as he sees fit to use you. It is, you will understand, a special and privileged position."

"I do understand. And I am deeply honoured, Mr. Secretary," Edward replied.

"We are all honoured," John Seymour added. Thomas just nodded his head at his father's words. Cromwell went to leave, but halted as if he had forgotten something.

"There is one more thing. I have noticed his Majesty's interest in your sister, Lady Jane, and to avoid any scandal attaching itself to your sister's name, I am more than happy to offer you and your family my private chambers in the palace and any other palace we may move to." All Seymour men nod at Cromwell's words, Thomas smirking slightly. "They are adjacent to the king's private chamber with a connecting gallery for greater privacy."

"You're most generous, Mr. Secretary. We would like to repay your kindness." Cromwell scoffed at Edward's words.

"There is no need to," Cromwell spoke. "Now, if you'll excuse I must attend to the king's matters." The Seymour men all bowed as Cromwell went to enter the king's chambers, all pleased with turn of events.

7 February 1536

Anne and Grace stood at the top of the stairs leading from a secret entrance to the queen's chambers, past the king's, and into the great hall of the court. They had waited silently for the French ambassador to appear and as ye climbed up the stairs, his eyes lit up at the recognition of the queen and Grace.

"Madame," the ambassador spoke, moving to the side and bowing as he thought the queen was trying to pass, but instead Anne rushed forward to him, Grace close behind her as she watched the court for any spies or enemies among them.

Anne reached forward, pulling the French ambassador behind a pillar so as to further hide their conversation from prying eyes. "Monsieur Ambassador. I beg you. King Francis must be persuaded to accept the marriage of his son to our daughter Elizabeth so that I may not be ruined or lost…For I see myself very near that, and in more trouble and grief than I was ever in before my marriage." Anne grasped the ambassador's hand in hers, conveying her fear for her life. "I cannot speak to you more fully now nor dare I express my fears in writing, but please after everything I've done for France as you love me, do the best you can for me." She kissed his hand in respect, the ambassador looking at her with an expression of shock on his face. "For God's sake."

Anne retreated down the stairs, Grace sparing the ambassador a small smile as she followed after her mistress. The ambassador barely noticed as Grace passed a letter into his hands discreetly. She could write letters, though Anne could not as she was sure she was being watched. The ambassador was at a loss for words as the women descended down the stairs, but he held the letter in his hand tighter, deliberating whether to deliver the message to his master personally or not.

Greenwich Palace 17 February 1536

The court had relocated to Greenwich in the middle of February, leaving the memory of their Majesties' unborn son at Whitehall. Grace refused to see the king, choosing to remain by Anne's side. She never left her, barely retiring to her chambers and keeping her majesty company in her rooms. They would share her majesty's bed, Grace comforting Anne as she was plagued by nightmare after nightmare.

Sir Henry Norris was in Anne's chambers at the moment, paying court to Madge who seemed to have little to no interest in the man. "Majesty." Norris bowed to the queen as he exited, never turning his back on her nor taking his eyes off her. Anne flickered her eyes over him, Grace casting her gaze on Madge instead who appeared relieved at Sir Norris' absence. She sat next to Anne while the other ladies performed their daily duties. Anne turned to Madge, giving her a small smile, but Madge just frowned.

"I wonder why, after all this time, he still will not marry Madge?" Anne questioned Nan.

"I think Norris comes into your chambers more for Your Majesty than he does for Madge," Nan responded with a smirk on her face.

"For me?"

"Do not say such things Nan. He merely has the queen's same zeal for the reformation," Grace spoke, sending Nan a scalding glare. Nan had the decently to look embarrassed, leaving Anne and Grace as she went to help the other ladies-in-waiting.

Once Nan was a good distance away, Grace turned to Anne who was sending Jane a fierce glare. "Majesty, I must inform you of what my brothers have heard."

"What have they heard, Gracie?" Anne questioned.

"Mr. Cromwell has given the Seymours his rooms," Grace gritted through her teeth. Jane was standing in the queen's inner chambers, staring at some unknown object in her hands. Grace rolled her eyes at the air-headed girl who never was on task.

"Cromwell's rooms?" Anne whispered, a hint of fury to her voice.

"Yes." Grace's reply was simple and straight to the point.

Anne abruptly rose from her chair, a determined look in her eye as she strutted over to Jane. The other ladies noticed her approach and scurried out of the way to avoid her wrath. Grace followed behind, monitoring the interaction to make sure Anne did not overstep her boundaries. After all, she still believed Jane was now the beloved of the king.

Jane looked straight at the queen, her dull eyes flickering to the floor before lifting them up to look at Grace and then the queen again. Grace realized that it was a piece of jewelry she held in her hands and Jane now cradled a gold piece in her hands. "What is that?" Anne questioned.

"It's a locket, your Majesty."

"Let me see it." Jane grasped the locket tightly in her hands, hesitating in whether to show the queen.

"The queen gave you an order, Mistress Seymour," Grace declared. Jane gave Grace a sour look, but she still did not move. Instead, she barely displayed the locket which held an opal in its center.

"Let me see it," Anne spoke sharply. Her eyes narrowed, Jane finally submitting to her command. Jane stepped forward, moving slowly towards Anne as she held the locket out to her. Anne's hand whipped out as she took the locket in her hand forcefully. She tugged Jane forward with the force, Jane showing a strained look on her face as tried to conceal a noise of pain from the queen.

Grace stepped forward, looking over the queen's shoulder as she opened the locket. It was a portrait of the king. Jane's eyes, which had been glued to the ground, were now looking defiantly up at Anne and Grace as she studied their faces. Grace's eyes remained locked on the miniature portrait, her heart dropping to her stomach. However, Anne's eyes met Jane's in a glare of anger as Jane gave her what appeared to be a challenging look. She yanked on the end of the necklace, the chain breaking. Jane gasped and held her neck as she felt a sharp sting of pain from the force. She stared back at Anne, her nostrils flaring. Grace observed the scene quietly, her mind jolting out of its stupor when she heard Jane's gasp. Anne sent Jane away with a tilt of her head, her eyes burning into Jane as she left the queen's chambers like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Jane didn't even bother to curtsy or mutter a "majesty" as she left, feeling entitled enough not to say anything apparently. Anne watched her departure furiously, Grace also doing so. She reached down to Anne's hands, throwing the locket on the bed when she realized Anne was bleeding. Drops of blood fell from Anne's hand onto the sheets of the bed, Anne looking as if she were about to cry. She turned back to look at her ladies, all of them whispering among themselves and scattering they noticed Anne. Anne scolded herself internally, reprimanding herself for her display.

"Leave now! All of you!" Grace exclaimed, all of them obeying her orders and leaving the queen's chambers in a hurry. Anne looked to Grace, her hard exterior cracking with what had just happened. Grace gave her a sympathetic look, trying not to cry as well. "Stay here. Do not leave your chambers and grab a cloth for your hand," Grace spoke. She clutched the discarded locket in her hand and turned on her heel.

"Where are you going?" Anne questioned., watching Grace through blurry eyes clouded by tears.

"To speak to the king of his indiscretion. No one should insult you like that, not even the king," Grace murmured, exiting Anne's chambers and heading to the king's in a rush of anger. Anne stood alone in her rooms, deciding not to follow Grace. She dare not see the king. She was afraid of him, afraid of what he might do to her now that she had lost her son. However, she had another idea on her mind as she wrapped her injured finger in cloth and departed her chambers as well.

Anne stepped into Cromwell's study, both pages rising and bowing to her while Cromwell remained seated. He was so absorbed in his work that he did not notice her presence. Anne stood there, an expression of impatience on her face.

"Mr. Secretary," one of the pages spoke. Cromwell lifted his eyes from the document in front of him, surprised at the queen's unannounced visit.

"Majesty." Cromwell placed the document on his desk and rose to his feet. Meanwhile, Anne sent a sharp look towards the door to Cromwell's study as she wished to speak to him alone.

Cromwell maintained a happy disposition as he spoke, the pages closing the doors to his office behind them. "I have good news, Your Majesty. The bill for the dissolution of the large monasteries has just passed." Anne smiled slightly at the news, but it was a forced smile. "Our reformation is moving apace."

Anne strode forward towards Cromwell's desk, Cromwell stepping aside and frowning at her forwardness. "I have been told privately, Mr. Secretary that the king has already sold Sawley Abbey in Yorkshire to one of his courtiers…" She rifled through the papers on Cromwell's desk, feeling it was her right to do so. She was the queen of England after all. "…Even though the bill has not yet reached the statute book and plainly on your advice." She lifted up one of the documents n Cromwell's desk to view it. "Our reformation was never meant to be about personal gain." She discarded the document back on Cromwell's desk as she dove into the point of her visit. "Religious houses should not be sold off but converted to better uses," she exclaimed in a sharp voice.

Cromwell stood before her with his hands clasped together, a thin line across his mouth. "Madam…the confiscated assets will be used to the pleasure of Almighty God and to the profit of this realm which is but a pygmy but shall one day be greater even than Spain," he declared. He watched as Anne again looked through the many papers in his office, this time on the other desks scattered throughout the room.

"So, is it true you've given your private rooms here to the Seymours?" Anne questioned, her fierce gaze landing on Cromwell as he shut his eyes in frustration. He sighed deeply, his shoulders falling as he let out an uneasy breath.

"I am the Queen of England. You will answer me. Is it true?" Anne reached out and grasped the collar of Cromwell's shirt tightly.

"Yes. It is true." Cromwell dare not lift his eyes to meet the queen's gaze, a wise choice as the queen berated him.

"You have overreached yourself, Mr. Cromwell. Believe me, you have placed yourself in very great danger." Anne released her tight grip on Cromwell's shirt, the man remaining silent as she spoke to him. "Do you believe me? Or do you assume I no longer possess the power to crush you? It would be an easy mistake to make, Mr. Cromwell." Anne left Mr. Cromwell in his study as she left his chambers, a scowl on her face at the fact that Cromwell no longer supported her, but the king's new fancy.

While Anne bombarded Cromwell in his study, Grace had headed off to the king's chambers in a fury. She grasped the locket in her hand, the broken chain hanging down, and swinging back and forth as she hastened to the king's chambers. She reached the great hall, all the courtiers becoming silent as they saw her furious expression when she passed. They bowed or curtsied to her, though no one uttered a sound.

Grace first burst into the throne room, the guards at attention as she passed. They cast curious glances in her direction as she continued into the king's personal study, slamming the door open and ignoring the page's pleas. Henry lifted his head up from his papers when he heard the doors slam open suddenly. He was frustrated by the intrusion until he realized it was Grace in front of him.

"Sweetheart," Henry spoke, surprised by her appearance. He rose up from his chair but was silenced by Grace throwing the locket onto the table. He stared down at the item before he gaze returned to Grace, giving her a confused look while she delivered him a look of disgust.

"Keep your indiscretions to yourself. Do not flaunt your mistress in front of Anne or I," Grace yelled. Henry tried to approach Grace, but she remained out of reach.

"What nonsense is this?" Henry questioned. He was completely bewildered by her accusation, glancing at the locket on the table. He reached for it, opening it to reveal his portrait inside. "Where did this come from?" he stated with an edge of anger to his tone.

"It was around your whore's neck," Grace spat out at him. "You mean to tell me you don't know how she got it?"

Henry cast the locket back down on the table, his face now one of sheer anger. Grace could not avoid his grasp as he approached her and held her arms in a harsh grip. "Why would I give her something as personal as that Grace? I would give a locket like that to you and only you." Grace said nothing, her eyes filled with tears as she stared up at him with a blank expression on her face. This gave Henry the opportunity to remove his hands from Grace's arms and cradle her face in his hands. "Sweetheart, I love you." He pressed his forehead to hers, relishing in the moment. She had not let him talk to her or touch her for three weeks.

"Keep your dog in line," Grace gritted at him through her teeth as she referred to Cromwell. She yanked her head from Henry's hands, sending him one last venomous look before leaving him alone once more. Henry stared after her before looking at the gold locket that glared up at him mockingly from its position on the table. He needed to keep Cromwell in check or else he would lose Grace and Anne forever.

A/N: Comments?