A/N: Welcome to my first longfic!
This story is inspired by Velocity Girl1980's story "Till Death Do Us Part", and will relate the events of that story from Mary's perspective. The basic premise of that story: At the Blackfriars Trial, a man shows up claiming to be the long-dead Prince Arthur and Katherine of Aragon's real husband. Apparently Arthur Tudor never died of the Sweat, but instead faked his own death. His reappearance undoubtedly throws a few wrenches in the Great Matter…
No need to have read that fic to understand this one, as this will be a complete retelling from Mary Tudor's POV, but if you want to check the original out, I definitely recommend it! If you have read "Till Death Do Us Part", please refrain from posting spoilers in the reviews.
This story has been completely prewritten, and updates will be once a week.
Major thanks to Velocity Girl1980 for giving me permission to write this fic.
CHAPTER ONE
June 1529
Of all the outcomes to the Blackfriars Trial, this was not one she had imagined!
In the past few months, Mary had heard quite a bit about the Great Matter and the papal court set up to judge her parents' marriage. No one was immune from royal gossip, not even the heir to the throne who was still residing in ostensible seclusion at Ludlow. Opinions differed wildly on whether King Henry (and consequently, Mademoiselle Boleyn) would win, Queen Katherine would, or Rome would drag their feet once again. Mary had feared the first, hoped for the second, and expected the third.
But according to the stories flying about the country, none of those had happened. Instead, in the middle of her mother's speech, a man had burst into the courtroom, claiming to be Arthur Tudor, former Prince of Wales, her father's long-dead brother and her mother's long-dead husband. There had been a deadly silence, before Cardinal Wolsey ordered the courtroom cleared. What happened in the next few minutes was not precisely clear, though if rumor was to be trusted, her mother had wept in open court and slapped the man clean across the face. What was certain was that he was led away under armed guard to the Tower - whether as a prisoner or as an honored guest, no one could say - and what was even more certain, her parents' marriage was to be officially annulled, with full backing from the Pope, as since Arthur was alive, Mary's parents' marriage was unquestionably bigamous.
How on earth could her father take this impostor at his word? He himself had grown up with numerous pretenders to the throne casting a shadow over his childhood - Lambert Simnel, Perkin Warbeck - so how could he be so blasé about this one? What sorcery had this supposed Arthur worked to convince not only the King of England, but apparently the Pope and the Emperor as well, since they were not contesting the annulment?
Were Anne and this so-called Arthur in collusion? Had the Boleyns arranged for this? Dredged up some man to pretend to be Prince Arthur and nip the Great Matter in the bud after three years of constant delay?
Lady Salisbury had been no help when Mary came to her, overflowing with questions. Was this man really Prince Arthur? Was Arthur her father now? If he had never come back, would her parents still be married?
All her governess had said was that her parents would talk to her properly when they arrived in London. The distance between there and Ludlow had always been considerable, but it had never seemed so long as it did now. She gazed out upon the fields and hamlets rushing by, that she had always expected to rule, her heart beating an unsteady tattoo.
Mother and Father's marriage couldn't possibly end like this!
The carriage's entrance into London was dismal at first, not due to ill sentiment but simply because many people seemed taken aback to see her. They were likely still recovering from the shock of the resurrected Arthur, but once they had noticed her, the cheers were as loud as they had ever been. She was glad of it, just as she was glad to see no sign of the Boleyns as she dismounted in the front courtyard and made her way into the palace.
When her parents finally sat down with her in the parlor, Mary felt her stomach swoop at the looks on their faces. Her father's face was drawn and furrowed, but her mother's - God above, her mother's countenance was ravaged and broken as it never had been before.
Silence hung for a few moments, before her father began without preamble. "You must have heard so many things on your way here, and I think you are old enough to hear the truth, so I will put it to you. As it transpires, Arthur never died, and therefore the marriage between us is invalid."
"So he really is Uncle Arthur." Mary's mouth was dry. "How could he not have died?"
Her father sighed heavily. "He never really fell ill of the Sweat, as a boy. He placed another body in his place and snuck out in the night."
"And he fooled everyone?" Mary demanded to know, hardly unable to believe her ears.
"Yes. A real-life Lazarus. No one, save for one servant, knew anything of his survival until a few days ago."
"Then where has he been all this time? He can't have just vanished into nothingness for- for twenty-eight years, and then dropped back onto the face of the earth!"
"He apparently has travelled all over England and the continent, living as a commoner. Why he did so is a question I am still pondering." Mother had finally spoken, and though her voice was broken, beneath it there was a steady undercurrent of anger. One that would bubble over and overflow, but at a later point. Mary paid scant attention to this, however, as suddenly another thought seized her with absolute panic.
"Then does this mean you are no longer King, Father?" All this time she had been put out at the thought of becoming a bastard, when her father might very well be about to lose his throne. Dear God… She had grown up on tales of the Cousins' War, only one generation ago, out of which the Tudor dynasty had taken root, and she knew what kind of devastation a succession crisis could wreak on the country.
"No." Father's response was immediate. "He was never crowned or anointed King, and therefore has no throne to abdicate. Besides, there is scriptural precedent for it, in Genesis 25:29 - Esau, who sold his birthright to his brother Jacob."
Of course her father would have concocted something from the Bible already to justify his whims. It did strike her as a particularly apt parallel for Arthur, who apparently valued his own birthright no more than he did a bowl of soup. And she was relieved to have her fears of her father being dethroned assuaged. No matter what, he was still her sovereign lord and the only King she had ever known.
That did not mean her initial worries paled. How prescient of her father, she thought sourly. He had claimed it was because of her mother's first marriage that this one was invalid, and in a way, he had been right all along.
Mary was the result of bigamy.
Her mother had married her husband's brother, while that husband still lived.
She was a bastard, unquestionably.
"He never had any coronation, but you're perfectly happy to insist that Mother's first wedding with him was valid," Mary guessed. "So I am no longer Princess Mary, but Lady Mary?"
Her father glanced away, while her mother stared up at the ceiling. Their inability to meet her eyes was answer enough.
She felt a sob creeping up in her throat, and choked it down. Tears obscured her vision to vague blurs. Mary turned to her mother, beseeching her. "Tell me I am a bastard, Mama." The childish moniker slipped from her lips, and she was a child again, seeking reassurance, unable to believe the ugly truth until she heard her mother say it, the one whom she revered above all else. "Say that I am illegitimate."
Mother bit her lip and turned her face away, sobs wracking her body. Mary felt hot tears carve their own path down her face. It really could not end like this, it could not.
Father looked thoroughly uncomfortable but placed an awkward hand on Mother's wrist, squeezing it. Queen Katherine had regained control of herself, however, and shook him off. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, her chest still heaving with dying sobs.
"Why on earth can't Mother and Arthur's marriage be annulled, since you both had every reason to believe him dead?" Mary turned to each of them, begging for answers. Had no one truly considered the justice of this venture? "And it was never even consummated! Mother would never have lied, no matter what you might think of her, and the only other person who could have testified to that is well and alive. If is is really Arthur, then ask him whether or not it happened!"
"We have already thought of all that, my pearl." Her father's voice was gentle, his face pained, and Mary hated him even more for that. Had he yelled at her, she could have shouted right back, matching him in rage, but she had no weapon against resigned kindness. "Your mother and I married in good faith, but Arthur knew very well that he was still alive, and therefore the first marriage still stands."
"Then you are going to marry Mistress Boleyn," Mary predicted. She was technically not supposed to know of her father's mistress's existence, but if he truly thought she believed that the Great Matter was all about his conscience, then he was a fool - and her father was no fool.
To his credit, her father looked hesitant to confirm it. Her mother finally broke in. "He is. The Pope himself agrees that such a move is valid." Her eyes were grieved, but her voice steady.
Mary felt a dull blow to her stomach. She had thought after the Sack of Rome, matters were in their favor, but if the Holy Father himself said so, then she and her mother had no choice but to obey.
"It's a huge transformation for you, my pearl. But remember that we are still your parents, and we both still love you."
Henry got up from his seat and crossed over to kneel in front of Mary, cupping her chin in one hand. "Even when I have a son, you will still be the pearl of my world, and my eldest child."
His smile was broad and genuine, and his manner affectionate, but Mary was muted.
Her father was getting married to someone who was not her mother.
Her mother was forced to be married to someone who was not her father- moreover, someone whom she has been married to her whole life without knowing it, decades before Mary was born, decades before Mary was even thought of.
Her uncle was her stepfather.
Her parents' "marriage" was an abomination that never should have occurred, and she was a byproduct of that abomination.
And now she was to lose her legitimacy and her title as Princess.
How could this happen to her, the Princess of Wales, the relative of Spanish monarchs, the pearl of her father's world?
Her mind spun; if something had gone different, if Arthur had not faked his death, he and her mother would have remained married forever. Would she have been born at all? Would she still be Mary if her father was a different man? Would her father have had children at all? He likely would have gone into the church, while Arthur was King.
"I hate him." She had not realized she said it out loud until her parents looked at her. "I hate Arthur. He is the cause of all this! I wish he had died for good in the Sweat, or else, never come back to ruin everything!"
She was shocked by her own words, which were technically treason. But neither of her parents reacted, and she realized that they agreed with her.
That knowledge blunted some of her anger. She still resented her father for going ahead with marrying Anne, but she knew that it was Arthur's fault that he had to make such a move. And her father did not look too happy about the prospect, which cheered her somewhat.
"I understand." There was a level of compassion in his voice that Mary was not used to hearing from him, and his eyes were dark with understanding. "You have every right to resent Arthur - God knows your mother and I, and a lot of other people, do as well - but always remember that I love you, and that your mother loves you, and Mistress Boleyn will be kind to you as well. Even when she has a son, she will not try to hurt you."
When a son was born, not if. Her new stepmother, Mistress Boleyn, and her new stepfather, her uncle. No longer Princess Mary, but Lady Mary.
Of all the fruits she had expected the Blackfriars Trial to yield, this was not one of them, and it was the bitterest one she had ever had to swallow.
A/N: Next chapter, Mary meets Arthur for the first time! Credits to Elizabeth/ fandomsruinedmylifebut from Tumblr for the idea about the Jacob & Esau verse!