For those of you waiting for me to update Back to the Beginning, don't yell at me! I promised whoever became my 50th reviewer for The Definition of Love that I would write a fic for them. Kittenallie was my 50th reviewer and she requested I do her 'Jane the Concubine' Challenge. I immediately fell in love with the premise and the story began sprouting in my head. I do have the basic outline for the next chapter of Back to the Beginning started, so never fear loves, I will get it written and hopefull up Wed night. Once again, some dialouge taken directly from Season Two of the Tudors, epsiode 2.08, 2.09, and 2.10 to be specific.

WARNING - PART OF THIS STORY DEALS WITH MISCARRIAGE AND THE DEATH OF A CHILD! If you are senstive to this kind of thing in any way, please turn back now. You have been warned.

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Edward Seymour knew he was an ambitious man. His father was content to remain a knight, living out his years at Wulf Hall, never wanting more than what God had already seen fit to bless him with. His sons were both strong and healthy and while his daughter didn't have many prospects, she was a lady in waiting to two queens now.

Now, however, everything was different. The king's affection for Anne Boleyn was quickly cooling. She'd failed to give him a son like she'd practically boasted she would, giving him only another daughter. He had eyes and ears all over court and when news reached him that the king was turning his attention to his sister, well everything changed. The Boleyn family had prospered greatly while the king's attention was held by Anne, so why shouldn't his family prosper likewise now that his attention was on Jane?

That creepy old bat who lived on the outskirts of his family's property had assured him this would work. No doubt she assumed he had a bastard on the way and wanted to get rid of it. He'd kept his face hidden, so the woman could not run telling tales of how he'd come to her about herbs to terminate a pregnancy. Now, the question was how to carry out his plan. Anne was in confinement, having very nearly lost the child she carried once when the king had been knocked senseless during a joust. At the recommendation of the court physicians, she was now confined to her bed so she would not miscarry. Her food was tasted in the kitchens before being sent up to her, so he supposed that he could hire someone to put it in afterwards while it made its way to her chambers.

Jane would never have done it, even had she still been in the queen's service. Apparently, she'd seen his sister sitting on the king's knee and had become hysterical, demanding she leave her service at once. They'd given her a calming draught, according to one of the page boy's who was in his employ. Maybe the boy would know someone who could put the herbs in her food? Or mayhap the boy would do it himself; Edward could tell him they were simply to help enhance the flavor. Smirking, he went in search of the young lad.

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Hours later, a searing pain caused Anne to cry out as she woke. No, no, no! This couldn't be happening! Screaming desperately, she glanced down at herself as her maids rushed in and saw the bright red blood soaking through her dressing gown. Rising to her knees, Anne grabbed at her belly, pleading for the young boy she knew she carried within her womb to stay with her. Alas, it was not to be and moments later, her precious boy, her savior was dead.

Her ladies all gave her sympathetic looks as they helped clean her up, changing the sheets on the bed to be burned and putting Anne into a clean dressing gown. A steaming cup of herbal tea was pressed into her hands as she was put back into bed. Her boy was dead. The thought echoed in her head and she fought desperately to hold back the tears threatening to overwhelm her.

"His Majesty, the king!"

At the heralds cry, Anne looked up as her husband limped slowly into the room. He looked as though he'd aged ten years, walking like an old man instead of the young one he still was. "You've lost my boy," the words are said in a low tone, but the barb in them is clear. "I cannot speak of it, the loss is too great. But I see now that God will not grant me any male children. When you are better, I will speak to you."

"It's not all my fault! You have no one to blame but yourself for this. I was distressed to see you with that wench, Jane Seymour," she told him, unable to hold back the tears.

It becomes clear to her that Henry does not want or intend to hear it, as he turns and limps from the room. Sobbing, she curls up on her great bed, wondering how this could have happened. She'd done nothing wrong, so why was God punishing her like this? First, her husband was beginning to leave her for another woman, and now she'd lost her little boy. Tears streamed freely down her face as she sobbed heartily into her pillow.

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"You will be my Queen," Henry tells Jane excitedly as they walk through the garden around her family's estate. He'd ridden there almost immediately after leaving Anne's side, not wanting to be around her. Her brother walked a discreet distance behind, acting as chaperone. To avoid the rumors that might swirl about Jane, he'd decreed to her and her family that he would never be alone with her. "We will all travel by barge to Hampton Court and our betrothal will be formally announced. Enough of that, what would you like to talk about sweetheart?"

Jane smiles serenely, the thought of being queen an enticing one. She hadn't believed her brother at first, when he told her it was obvious that she would be the next queen, but now it seemed to be that he was right. Henry wanted her as his queen. "I would like to talk about your daughter, Mary. When I am Queen, I should hope to see her reinstated as heir apparent."

Henry scowled, his mood rapidly darkening. Why should she bother to worry about his bastard daughter? "You should advance our children," he replies decisively, waving the thought away casually. "I want a new beginning, a renaissance. And you will be the one to give it to me."