Hi everyone! Once again I'm back with a new story. I've actually started to write again since I've enrolled on a Masters Degree in Writing. I'm not promising updates on this story, more of a when I can fit it round my other work sort of thing.

I'm currently addicted to the Tudors series and decided to write my own sort of Tudor England fanfiction. Still unsure what rating to give this but it is a T for now but may go to a M. Since the Tudor period was so bloody, there is a fair amount of blood in this chapter. There are a few swear words too, so please be warned. Please no flames.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!

I

The first time she saw him, his cold obsidian eyes flashing over her like she was his prey, she felt a ripple of nausea wash through her almost making her wretch. He'd been sat in front of her, his hands resting on the table top, fingers meshed together tightly, his eyes staring into her soul. She sat opposite him on a small wooden chair, no cushion, her fingers nervously winding the fabric of her dress round her fingertips, her front teeth gnawing her bottom lip.

"Do you understand why you are here, Lady Dawn?" he asked calmly, in fact so calm she thought it would have been better if he roared at her. But he sat across from her, his face hidden behind that plain mask he constantly wore, his lips in tight, thin line.

"Yes," she said, then added: "Sir."

"I believe that your father has been sheltering some traitors," he went on, pleasantly as if he was commenting on the weather. She tried to keep a blank face but her eyes betrayed her shock at the accusation. Her father had been housing some 'friends' as he called it, but not traitors. His eyes flickered around her face then, slowly, deliberately, he got to his feet. His hands now settled behind his back as he walked around the room, his heeled boots clicking on the stone floor. He circled Dawn like a bird of prey, his steps constant. Click. Click. Click. "Do you deny this?"

"I am sorry, my lord," she muttered in reply, "but my father's business is his business. I do not ask him, he does not offer details."

"Has he had guests?" he asked the moment she stopped talking. She nodded once. "How many?"

"I do not know, sir," her reply was weaker this time. Her voice trembled with fear because this was one answer she knew she could not hide. He sensed this, stopping behind her and then stepping close to her chair, his mouth lowering to her ear so he could whisper:

"Are you sure about that?"

It was almost intimate and despite her situation, Dawn blushed at how close he was to her. She was eighteen, a widow none-the-less but that wasn't unusual for a woman of court. Her mother was thirteen years older than her, her father nearing sixty. Dawn had married young to an old man who died soon after the wedding. She received a large sum of money for her pension, all funds taken from her by her father. She squirmed as his hair brushed against her neck.

"Yes."

"How many?" Now his voice changed, darker, angrier, but still intimately whispering in her ear.

"S-seven," she stuttered.

"No more?" Soft again, still too close.

"As far as I know."

He drew away, circling her once more. She glanced up at him as he walked the other side of the table in her view. Her eyes met his, the coal black melting into her soul once more. A tear, solitary, rolled down her cheek. He stopped in his tracks once more, looking down at her with a strange expression on his face, as if he couldn't believe she had broken already.

"You're frightened?" he asked.

"Wouldn't you be in my position?" she replied. He inclined his head coyly: touché. He pulled his chair across the stone cobbles then sat down, hands once again on the table. She watch him as he raised the meshed fingers to his mouth, elbows propping them up. His face lit up with a sadistic looking smirk, his eyes searching her once more.

"Lady Dawn," he said slowly, his hands blocking his mouth so she couldn't see his tongue lick his front teeth as he 'L' in lady, "if you help me, I will ensure that no harm comes to you."

"There were seven people," she spluttered, "that's all I know, sir."

He nodded. His hands dropped back to the table top. Then they snaked across the table, rising so that he could cup her chin with his right hand. He forced her to look at him then tilted her face to right, her eyes never leaving his.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked.

"Y-yes," she stammered. He turned her head to the left gently, her eyes remaining static despite her head swivelling.

"Are you sure?" he asked, this time gentler than before.

"Y-yes," she repeated. What happened next she hardly knew. Her nose impacted with the hard wood of the desk, her neck pinned down on the edge with the corner biting into her windpipe. She felt his hand firmly on the back of her neck, applying enough pressure to make her groan. His grip lightened ever so slightly, signalling he was walking round the table to stand by her side. She felt his hot breath on her ear, his hair tickling the top of her head.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Sir, please," she squawked, breathless. He released her neck so she could inhale a large gulp of breath. She could feel something warm trickling from her nose across her top lip and into her mouth. Blood or tears, she couldn't decide which it was although she was sure she was both bleeding and crying at the same time. "I beg you, I don't know anything."

The force increased on her throat once again.

"What do you know?" he asked, louder this time, his mouth not so close to her ear.

"NOTHING!" she yelled. Her voice scratched the back of her throat, it being louder than she expected. "I know nothing."

He let go of her, resuming his place in his chair as if nothing unpleasant had occurred. Meanwhile, Dawn pushed her upper body off of the table, eyes pouring with tears as she stared across at the man across from her. He watched him pull a white cloth from the inside of his ebony jerkin. He flicked it in the air above the table then passed it to Dawn. She didn't know what to do at first, then she reached out and grabbed it. Before her fingers could brush the white lace, he pulled it away from her grasp.

"What is your father planning?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she replied, more tears spilling out over her cheeks. "I swear..."

He was bought by her honesty, passing her the piece of cloth gently. She snatched it from his hand, pressing it against her nose and wincing. The chair across from her creaked once more against the stone cobbles of the floor and in a flash, he was beside her again. She glanced horrified at him as he leant against the table by her elbow. He cupped her chin with one hand again, brushing her hands away from her nose. He tilted her head this way and that way again, now inspecting the damage. His other hand reclaimed the handkerchief from her bloodied fingers.

"Do you know what it feels like to be on the rack, Lady Dawn?" he asked, once again pleasantly.

"N-no, sir," Dawn said, eyes popping out of their sockets. He tilted her head backwards gently, then pinched the bridge of her nose with the other hand. The handkerchief turned scarlet as more blood flowed into the fabric. The vibrant colour tantalizingly beautiful if it wasn't for the fact it was coming out of her nose.

"It is horrible," he said, "the rack. You can here the bones of the victim cracking, creaking until -" he yanked her head downwards roughly "- snap. The bones are ripped from the ligaments and the victim screams in agony."

"Please, sir," Dawn said, a fresh wave of tears flooding down her cheeks. He watched her for a moment then he ran his thumb across the soft skin of her cheeks to wipe away the salty droplets.

"Shush," he cooed now, like she was a baby. "Shush."

Her eyes closed tightly, more tears escaping down her face. Her body heaved with a sob, then another, the another. He watched her, calculating, as her forehead crinkled up as she openly sobbed. He pulled the handkerchief away from her nose inspecting the damage once more. The bleeding had stopped for the moment, the flesh around the organ was pink and swollen, her teeth painted red. He ran his thumb now over her lips before swooping down to claim them with his own.

She gasped as he deposited a chaste kiss on her mouth, the tears stopping in fright more than anything. Her whole frame went rigid for the split second his lips were on her and remained that way as he straightened up once more. His eyes locked onto hers once more, a small, sadistic smirk crawling across his face as she stared at him in complete awe.

"Women are such weak things," he commented. "Give then a smack and they cry. Give them a kiss and they stop."

"And men are assholes," she retorted, her mouth speaking before her brain had time to comprehend the words they were forming. "Bullies and brutish."

A stunned silence hung in the air until he gave a hearty laugh. It rolled from his stomach, growling like a bear at first then escaping his lips with a large smile. When he was done, he titled his head to the side once more.

"Sweet Lady Dawn," he said, "I should hit you again for that."

"Then do it," she challenged, "it would only add evidence to my argument. I would expect no less."

His hand flew out, grabbing her hair in a claw like motion. He clamped round her midnight blue tresses and pulled her up onto her feet. She grunted in agony as the roots were tugged from her scalp but she didn't fight him. Her features scrunched up in pain, her teeth attacking her bottom lip again, this time drawing blood. He pulled her so her face was close to his.

"Open your eyes," he demanded. Slowly her eyelids opened and her sapphire blue orbs reappeared. "Now tell me what you know about your father."

"There were seven men," she spat at him, spraying his pale skin with blood. "And you're an asshole."

"Finally," he growled, "someone with the balls to say that to my face."

i

The whole affair of Lord Berlitz treason was one felt by all members of the King's court. It had everyone shaking in their expensive leather boots at one point or another. His plot had been quickly discovered, his accomplices rounded up and hanged for all of London to see. Lord Berlitz had the single pleasure of being hung, drawn and quartered while his pale wife watched, eyes filled with horror as her husband suffered one last torture before he was allowed to rest. She was pardoned after seeing her husband's head put on a spike over Tower Bridge but exiled from court while her pretty little daughter was left in the grip of the wolves.

Dawn Berlitz had very little to do with anyone after her father's demise and subsequent execution. She knew better than to poke her head up and demand attention at times like this. The last thing she wanted was to suffer at the hands of the Lord Privy Seal, Paul Shinji, again. Being locked in an interrogation room with him once was enough for her, the less she saw him the better.

He had kept his distance from her, thank the heavens, ever since that day but if their paths ever did cross, he would shoot her a haughty smirk, just enough to make her blush at the things she had said about him that day.

Asshole. She had never called anyone that before. Being the daughter of a Lord meant that she had a reputation as a Lady to live up to and calling someone a crude name like that just didn't do well for her. She was thankful she didn't end up on the scaffold for calling the Lord Privy Seal such a name. He was one of the most powerful men in the country, he could have signed a warrant for her arrest and trial quite easily.

But he didn't. In fact her had chuckled warmly at her then released her from the interrogation room. Her mother, at one time on the executioner's list, was now removed from scrutiny and allowed to take up exile in a small manor house in Yorkshire, a very small pension for her new found widowhood. Dawn wasn't sent away, for reasons she couldn't quite decide: either as a further punishment for her mother or a punishment for herself. Perhaps she was a hostage. Perhaps the Queen really enjoyed her company.

In any case, Dawn found that she didn't really mind being abandoned a Court under the watchful eyes of the King and his ministers. It proved to them that she was up to no harm, like her mother. She went about her business as one of the ladies waiting on the Queen, diligently working to ensure all the needs of the regent were well catered for.

The Queen; beautiful, glowing, French, was a well liked woman. Her name, despite being foreign, was odd: Leaf. Queen Leaf. It didn't quite sound right and she often joked that her children should bear odd names like Prince Tree, Princess Rock, Duke Pebble, but in reality it was a nickname she had been given when she was a young child. Elizabeth was her real name but due to her older sister's lisp through their childhood: Lizzie became Leafy, Leafy became Leaf. The Queen was young. With one son and a daughter in the Royal Nursery already, she was a strong a steady consort to the King of England. Heirs were power. Power was life.

"Lady Dawn," the Queen would say pleasantly, "come over here and play card with me."

And that's what Dawn would do without hesitation. The pair would sit in the corner at a small round table, gold goblets of wine by their pinkies, giggling like maids as the card game was usually abandoned for the better pastime of gossiping.

Today found Dawn and the Queen sat beside the fire, sowing steadily as they laughed about one of the Duchesses having the ugliest dress they had ever seen when the male usher entered the room.

"The Lord Privy Seal, your majesty," he announced clearly before stepping aside to let the man in question enter the room, his usual leather file of documents clutched close to his chest. His eyes rested on the Queen immediately and walked in her direction. The other ladies bobbed into curtseys, heads down. He has eyes like the devil, the youngest, May, would say whenever he left the room, never to his face or if he was anywhere in earshot.

"Ah, my Lord Privy Seal," the Queen greeted him graciously. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Forgive me, your majesty," he said, stopping short of the chair where the Queen and Dawn were sat so he could bow lowly, "for the intrusion. May I?"

He glanced at a spare space beside Dawn and opposite the Queen. Leaf nodded graciously, pointing to the seat in a welcoming sort of way. Dawn glanced at the Queen wondering if she should go elsewhere and make herself busy but the look on Leaf's face told her to stay put. As the Lord Privy Seal sat down beside Dawn, a half glance in her direction to ensure he was not sitting on her gown, Dawn busied herself in her sowing, pretending not to listen.

"I come with information, your majesty," he said steadily. Calm, like always. "It is regarding one of your former ladies, a Lady Ashton?"

"Zoey?" Leaf asked, her eyes straying onto Dawn who paused at the name. "What about Zoey?"

"She is in the Tower over speculations of witchcraft." Something had entered the Lord Privy Seal's tone that Dawn had never heard before. It was almost like he was struggling with what he had to say next. The Queen merely nodded. "Pending her trial, she will be burned at the stake."

"Oh my," Leaf said. She crossed herself quickly, kissing her hand when she finished.

"The King is worried that Lady Ashton may have... infected other ladies in her majesty's household. He would like me to interview your ladies -"

Dawn slipped, driving her needle into her hand rather than the cloth. The motion made her drop her sowing onto the floor. It fluttered to the right, landing on the Lord Privy Seal's boot. She raised her hand instantly to her face, tears welling in her eyes at the pain, the taste of blood in her mouth once again. The Lord Privy Seal bent down to pick up the sowing, placing it on his lap before reaching into his jerkin to produce a handkerchief for her to borrow. He did not hand it to her right away, gesturing for her to let him have a look at her wound before she wrapped it up. She removed her hand from her lips, gently placing it in his. He looked at the needle prick, running his thumb over the small puncture hole, smothering blood over her skin. After a second or two, he dabbed her hand with the handkerchief then pressed it down.

"The good news, your majesty," he went on as if nothing strange had occurred, "is that Lady Berlitz seems to not be a witch. She bleeds red, not black like the scholars tell us."

"Oh good," the Queen said, her hand fluttering onto her chest over her heart. He now let go of Dawn's hand, letting her cradle her injury.

"If you be so kind as to allow your ladies to come to my office so my clerks may ask them some questions, at your majesty's leisure of course," he said, bowing his head. Leaf nodded.

"You may take Misty, Serena and..." she looked up to see who else she could spare, "Iris too."

The ladies in question straightened up when they heard their names being called, all of them rising to their feet slowly, each tight lipped, nervous. Master Shinji got to his feet, hand steadying Dawn's needlework on his thigh as he bowed again.

"Majesty," he said. He passed the sowing back to Dawn then walked from the room, signalling for the other ladies to follow him back to his offices where they would be interrogated.

"Are you quite all right, Dawn?" Leaf asked as soon the Lord Privy Seal vanished from the room with her ladies in tow.

"Yes, your majesty," she mumbled, "I slipped."

"I saw," Leaf replied, amused. "Tell me, what has Master Shinji done to get you so worked up about being alone with him?"

"Oh, your majesty, I'd rather not-"

"I insist."

Dawn chewed her bottom lip as the Queen resumed her sowing, her eyes darting between Dawn and her pattern.

"When my father was on trial," Dawn said carefully, "I was requested to give evidence to Master Shinji."

"And he used which methods?" Leaf asked. She grinned rather like a cat, her lip curling round insinuating the worst sort of thoughts. Dawn looked down at her sowing, finding that some blood had dropped on the fabric, staining it.

"He banged my nose on the table and pulled my hair until I cried," she mumbled, loud enough for only Queen to hear. The Queen stopped her sowing, her smile gone, a new concerned look adorning her features.

"What will he do to my ladies?" she asked simply.

"He didn't seem to be taking this seriously," Dawn replied. "His clerks will handle your ladies. He only deals with traitors and heretics."

The Queen nodded, not completely convinced but she neglected to say anything else. In fact she went back to her sowing as if Master Shinji had never stepped into the room.

ii

May looked positively frightened as she was walked towards Master Shinji's office. Visibly shaking, pale, she was a nervous wreck. If it wasn't for Dawn, whose arms she clung to, she may have fainted on the spot just outside the Privy Chambers. Dawn, sensing it was now or never, urged the scared woman into the room, looking round for someone to tell them where to go.

She became aware that five pairs of eyes were suddenly on her and May but it was seconds later when someone actually walked towards them, humbly with their cheeks red and their head bowed.

"Lady Maple, Lady Berlitz," he said, "Please come this way."

Dawn hesitated as the clerk lead them to a secluded room at the far end of the office but as she hesitated, the Lord Privy Seal just so happened to walk into the office, brushing past her satin skirts. He looked down at the skirt, then up to her face.

"Lady Berlitz?" he asked. She looked at the white faced May, what little colour she had in her face now disappeared at the arrival of Paul Shinji. He waved his hand to tell his clerk to take May into the office and interview her, then turned to stare at Dawn. She hurried to curtsy for him, lowering her head to avoid his piercing stare. "Come."

Her head shot up throwing a questioning stare at the man as he walked towards his own private office in the opposite direction to where May been taken. Dawn followed, nonplussed but silent, her head bowed as she walked past row upon row of clerks, all clad in black. As soon as she stepped into Master Shinji's private office, he closed the door. She looked at him, lips parting, dying to ask him a question but losing all courage to do so.

"How is the Queen?" he asked her, moving past her to take up his seat at his desk. Dawn watched him walk across the room, noticing that he seemed to glide effortlessly with strong strides. At his chair he stopped, turned and sat in one motion, his head rising to look at her. He was waiting for a reply.

"She is well, thank you," she said. He pointed to the chair in front of his desk then smirked at her hesitance to do as he wanted. Eventually she walked over the seat and sat in a ladylike manner, hands resting her lap.

"Do you hear from your mother?" he asked, pleased she was now seated. His attention from her slipped, instead he picked up a quill, dipped it in the ink pot then began writing elegantly curved letters on a piece of parchment.

"Not as often as I would like," she admitted. "I fear she would get lonely living on her own but it seems she is far too busy to write."

"A lady should not be idle," he said. His eyes flickered up to see her reaction but there was none. "She holds up after the loss of her husband?"

"Yes," Dawn replied – no thanks to you she wanted to add.

"And the house is to her liking?"

"As far as I can tell. Please, my Lord Privy Seal, may I enquire to the health of Lady Ashton?"

"No, you may not."

"Why? Did you put her on the rack?"

His head snapped up at this, his eyes narrowing dangerously at her. He placed the quill in the ink pot then laced his fingers together.

"His Majesty the King takes witchcraft very seriously," he said steadily. "He authorised the Duke of Rochester to use whatever means necessary to stop the evil of magic spreading."

Dawn gaped at him: "So she-"

"Is being handled like a traitor, yes."

"Oh my," she said, crossing herself, tears burning her eyes. "And then is she to die?"

"Regrettably."

"And where did the... accusation of witchcraft come from?"

"She consorts with lady folk in a carnal way," Master Shinji said. "Rochester claimed it was unnatural, said the 'w' word and here we are now. The King does not like witchcraft."

"Poor Zoey," Dawn muttered.

"Did you ever suspect-?"

"No," Dawn gasped. "On my life, I thought she was... She had a male admirer in court."

"Did you share a room with her at all?"

"No, I share with May," Dawn replied quickly. "Zoey slept in the same room as Candice."

Here Master Shinji nodded grimly: "I feel I was too vicious with you last time I asked you questions. You are far too honest now."

He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and hurriedly began writing a letter while Dawn looked on, trying to see what was being put down. She couldn't see the words but she could tell that the handwriting was neat, well structured.

"I am writing to Lady Snowdon to tell her to leave court for the time being," he said, feeling Dawn's eyes burn into the back of his head. "Until the King calms down."

"I see." But she did not. "Do you go against the King often?"

His head snapped up again, eyes piercing her skull in an icy stare. He got to his feet before she even realised it, striding towards her. She went rigid, fearing that he would whack her nose against the desk again. Instead he crouched down to hiss in her ear.

"Say that again and you will follow your father's footsteps. Understood?"

She was about to say yes when the door to the office flew open. Master Shinji straightened instantly, only one person daring to walk into his office so carelessly. His reactions weren't fast enough and the King got a good eyeful of his Lord Privy Seal whispering into the ear of Lady Berlitz.

"Your Highness," Master Shinji said, sweeping into a bow. Dawn hopped out of the chair, scarlet in the face, then curtseyed low to her monarch. The King grinned at the pair.

"What is going on here?" he asked, pointing at them both. "Whispering in her ear, Paul?"

"Your Majesty, I was just-"

"I know, I know," the King said happily. "Whispering sweet loving words to your sweetheart? I wondered why your door was closed, Paul."

"Yes... Your Majesty..." Master Shinji said slowly. Now he was in for it. "I was actually interviewing Lady Berlitz here on another matter, the one your Majesty requested."

"Oh?" the King asked. He gave an over emphasized wink in the Lord Privy Seal's direction causing Dawn to raise her hand to her mouth to stop herself from choking. "I see." Now he whispered, "but you said your clerks were handling that."

"She's a prime suspect," Shinji replied instantly. Dawn turned her head towards the older man, eyes wide in shock.

"If there's a prime suspect anywhere, it's you," she snapped. "I thought you were going to smash my head onto the table again."

"Oh? This is unexpected," the King said, now folding his arms over his chest. He raised a regal eyebrow at his most trusted servant, his smile disappearing. "I didn't realise you had a mistress, Paul. I thought you kept no secrets from me, I am after all your King."

Sometimes Paul Shinji's age was reflected by the way he looked at the King, as if the younger man was a child, dumb. Being almost thirty years of age to the young King's twenty-four did very little for the Lord's patience. The King was childish, he only cared about parties, women and his own vanity whereas the Lord Privy Seal never had any of those luxuries. He had to bring himself up in the world and stay afloat on the ever changing political seas, no matter the cost he would survive.

He turned to look at Dawn, grimacing over what had just happened but neither willing to correct the King, after all no one corrected the King of England on anything. Even if he said it was raining on a beautifully sunny day, you would agree. If he called a servant, or a Duke for that matter, by the wrong name, it was forever changed. Sensing this, the Lord Privy Seal placed his hands behind his back, glancing once more at Dawn before letting out a small huff of air. Dawn forced a pleading smile onto her face, her legs buckling slightly.

"We are... sorry your Majesty?" she said, grimacing ever so slightly. She looked up at Master Shinji's expression. It was easily readable: What a fine mess we're in now.

I have to admit, I was hoping for something a little bit different when I started this story, more angst, darker, but it came out rather comical in the end. I always feel sorry for Paul.

Please let me know if you liked this or not.

RSx