Even The Cold Heart Can Have Compassion, a tudors fanfic

I admit I did feel a bit bad for Cromwell when he was axed though I still hate him. But it gave me a idea of this fic that will take place behind the Bitching Henry's back in Perks. I dedicate this out to James Frain you have balls for making Cromwell look like a Emo Kid in the Tudors Finale

Warning: Some Suggestive Themes that Makes Cromwell look Creepier than he really is and Some Suggestive yet odd bizarre slashiness Between Thomas More and Cromwell (how bizarre!)

Disclaimer: If this story were real…than I am god. Since I am unfortunately not I do not own any of these characters this is just a sick product of my creativity.

The Cold Heart Can Have Compassion

Thomas Cromwell pushed through the door of Hever Castle enraged. He couldn't conceive why Thomas Boleyn would do such a terrible thing to the King's only conscience. Yes Cromwell-hated Sir Thomas Moore with a passion, but no man no matter how ill Cromwell thought of him deserves the fate that would befall the Lord Chancellor.

When Cromwell entered the common room the bastard was sitting at the dinning table drinking ale. Man had a shit-eating grin on his face. Cromwell was disgusted. Was Boleyn taking pleasure in another man's pain?

Boleyn looked up at Cromwell with menacing eyes and placed the goblet of ale on the table.

"Ah Mr. Cromwell," Boleyn said, "Come to celebrate the end of a growing problem with me."

Cromwell grimaced at the words. Yes Moore repressed the Reformation, having Moore out of the way was a proper solution but presented a problem. The minute Moore disappeared the king quickly started loosing his mind, starting with the king's phantom stomach cramps.

"Celebrate?" Cromwell retaliated, "you raised hell, his majesty is lying on floor hugging his knees in pain and guilt."

Boleyn started laughing hysterically. Cromwell couldn't believe it bastard was enjoying this!

"Wow I had the King's bitch in my clutches for not even a day and his majesty is visibly upset already? Wow the king must have a unhealthy love for Moore. And why do you care? Last week you and Cranmer were complaining Moore was a pest and in the way of your reformation. Why do you care if he is tucked away?"

Cromwell slammed both his hands on the table.

"Because I heard you have him chained like a dog in your basement! I admit I do not care for Sir Thomas Moore but I do not believe he deserves the hell you are putting him through! I came to tell you that I am not going to sit here and take this, nor am I going to involve myself in this heinous act!"

Boleyn laughed harder.

"You have a son Mr. Cromwell?"

Cromwell growled. His wife, whom he loved dearly, died years before and his only son Gregory was the only thing he had left of her.

"Leave Gregory out of this!"

Boleyn's laugh died down to a mere chuckle and took another sip of his ale.

"If you say nothing to the King Gregory will be just fine."

Cromwell curled his hand into a fist. He felt restraint. Only for his son, the only thing his cold heart loved. He failed at his original task. But Cromwell was a productive person. Even if he failed at one task he would go onto another. Another task that would get him out of this mess.

"Fine I won't tell the king, but I have one request, that you grant me permission to speak with Moore so I can clear myself from this disgraceful crime!"

Boleyn started to laugh harder. He was amused by the other man's sudden change of heart.

"Permission granted, I am warning you he's a feisty one with his words, but the gag will keep him quiet."

Cromwell grumbled and walked towards the basement door. He went to put his hand on the doorknob.

"Oh Mr. Cromwell," Boleyn said again.

Cromwell turned his head towards Boleyn who was taking another sip of his ale.

"Yes my lord," Cromwell said between gritted teeth.

"Remember don't try to be a hero, you wouldn't want any harm to come to your son do you?"

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Wake up please wake up! Thomas Moore, the now captive Lord Chancellor of England screamed in his mind.

Usually he held in all his emotions, but he was terrified. He was alone in a dark cold basement. His hands were bound behind him at the wrists along with the rest of his body with heavy ropes to the uncomfortable wooden chair. They were tied securely enough so he couldn't move. A dirty black rag was stuffed in his mouth and tied at the back of his head. How could he not be terrified?

Only a mad man could not be terrified in this situation.

In the period where he was left alone he tried escaping. His long slender fingers felt the ropes for the knots. They were far from his reach. He slumped his head in defeat. He knew it was useless. Not even his prayers could save him now.

He whimpered. The sound muffled through the air.

Suddenly the door to the basement opened behind him. Thomas cocked his head as far as his position allowed him to, waiting for another beating.

Cromwell meanwhile was probably just as terrified as Moore probably was. Part of him wanted to tell the King what was transpiring in the basement of Hever. The other part knew the consequence if he did. He couldn't let his son get hurt.

He walked down the stairs to the basement. His ears were already filled with muffled sobs.

Cromwell got at the bottom of the stairs and gasped. A pair of two scared brown eyes stared desperately and helplessly at him.

"Sir Thomas," Cromwell said sternly.

The captive Lord Chancellor turned his head away and started sobbing harder. Cromwell gasped.

He's scared of you Cromwell thought. You know you don't care for the man but he's terrified now. Be kind and gentle to him.

Cromwell walked over to the bound man and gently touched his shoulder. The sobs turned into full out weeping. The sobs were so violent that Cromwell felt Moore shaking in terror every time a scream left his obstructed lips.

Cromwell froze, should he leave? Should he risk everything to let his enemy escape? Or should he just comfort him?

Thomas meanwhile prepared himself for the worst. He knew he was a dead man. This was Thomas Cromwell, the man who often criticized the lawyer for his actions taken against heresy. The man who opposed the pope and praised Luther. If what Boleyn did to Thomas wasn't bad enough, Lord knows what a man ruthless, as Cromwell would do to him.

Instead of a beating Thomas felt the dirty rag pull out of his mouth and rest around his neck. Thomas started gasping for air. The room was silent except for the sound of Thomas' gasping breaths.

"Please," He finally whimpered, "I beg of you I have six children, one of which is still a young child! Release me so I can go home to them. I swear before god I will not tell Harry about this."

Cromwell was shocked. Before Sir Thomas More was willing to die for Christendom, but here he was now begging for his life!

"You are just enjoying this aren't you?" Cromwell's enemy cried again, "just like you would of enjoyed my head rotting on a stake."

Cromwell knew Moore wasn't calming down anytime soon. Loosing patience, Cromwell walked in front of the other man and grabbed his face with both his hands.

"Calm down man," Cromwell said sternly, "I am not going to hurt you."

Moore was thrashing wildly through Cromwell's grip.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME YOU FUCKING HERETIC!"

Suddenly Cromwell felt teeth sinking into his skin.

"FUCK!"

Cromwell stepped backwards and yelped. He was bleeding. He was shocked but understood why Sir Thomas Moore bit him he knew. Moore believed Cromwell to be the mastermind of this monstrosity. The reality was he condemned every once of it. He looked over to Moore who had a smug yet confident look forming on his lips.

Suddenly the door opened behind them and Boleyn stood in the opened doorway,

"Everything alright down there Mr. Cromwell?" Boleyn screamed "Is my very special guest behaving himself?"

Cromwell watched as Moore's look of defiance slowly faded. The helpless Moore brought his head to his chest and sobbed. Cromwell knew the man feared another beating.

"I saw a rat!" Cromwell lied, "And I got a little terrified. My Lord is there any water down here? I'm a bit parched."

Thomas cocked his head in confusion. Was his enemy helping him?

"There is a pitcher of water down there on the table, I was going to use it as a reward for my guest's behavior but you may help yourself. Since he is not causing any trouble I will leave you two alone!"

The door shut behind the two men.

"Bastard," Cromwell mumbled under his breath.

Thomas watched with wide eyes as Cromwell walked to the pitcher of water and pour it into the goblet.

"You are helping me why?" Thomas said trying to keep in his composure, "I had six people of your faith burned, you hate me."

There was a moment of silence between the two men as Cromwell walked over to Thomas with the goblet of water. Cromwell knelt in front of the bound man and brought the goblet of water to his lips.

"Drink," Cromwell said, "You'll feel better."

Cromwell tilted the goblet as Thomas tilted his head back to accept the drink. He drank the water in one quick gulp. Cromwell smiled.

"You didn't answer my question Mr. Cromwell, why are you helping me?"

Cromwell turned his head to side and sighed he then let out something he held in for a long time.

"I admit it Sir Thomas Moore, I do not like your views on heresy nor do I agree with your actions taken against people of my faith. However though, I don't agree with your beliefs on religion, I do not approve of holding a man against his will for the need of advancement. You are a strong member of parliament, not only did Boleyn take away that he took away the King's only true conscience."

Thomas smiled maybe Cromwell was here to save him.

"So are you going to tell Harry to save me from this?"

Cromwell sadly got up and put his goblet on the table. He hated to be the one to break the man's spirit, but he had to for his son.

"I'm sorry Sir Thomas, I would but I can't you see you would do the same thing, but he threatened my son."

Thomas looked down to the floor with a sad smile on his face.

"I understand completely."

Cromwell walked over to Thomas and knelt in front of the bound man. Cromwell placed his hands on the bound man's knees. He looked up to the bound man.

"I came to tell you that I did not have anything to do with this and if there is anything you need let me know for I will try to visit you as much as I can. And stay strong people like Boleyn feed off of Pain and fear."

Cromwell stood up and walked towards the door. Thomas turned his head towards the other man.

"Mr. Cromwell."

Cromwell turned his head towards the bound man.

"Yes Sir Thomas."

Thomas looked to the floor.

"Make sure Harry is alright."

And Cromwell walked out of the room, leaving the bound man alone to wallow in his misery.

Cromwell walked into his home drenched from the rain that came down hard that night. As he hung up his wet hat and cloak the look that Sir Thomas Moore bared upon his face haunted Cromwell's mind. He sighed in confusion and walked up the stairs. He wanted to go to his bedchamber. But he couldn't sleep alone, not with these dark times bearing a heavy burden on his brain. He was too scared to even sleep alone.

He walked towards his son's room. The door was slightly opened. He sighed and walked into the room where his son Gregory was sleeping soundly.

He sat on the edge of the empty side of the bed with his back facing towards his sleeping son. He took off his wet shoes one by one. When both shoes were off Cromwell sat for a moment. He then brought his head to his hands and started to sob. He didn't know why was it guilt, pity or fear?

"Father?" Cromwell heard a voice in the darkness say, "are you alright?"

Cromwell turned his head towards his son Gregory. The only person that really mattered to him in this world. He was sitting up next to his father giving him a desperate sympathetic look. Cromwell just sniffed and wiped on of his tears away.

"Just something happened that you won't understand, go back to sleep Gregory."

Within seconds Gregory gave his father another desperate look.

"Are you sure father you look upset?"

Cromwell sniffed.

"Your safe and that's all that matters to me now. Now please, go back to sleep."

Gregory couldn't comprehend what his father meant so he just shrugged and laid himself back down into bed just simply mumbling:

"Good night father."

Cromwell started rubbing his son's back and within moments Gregory fell asleep. Cromwell whimpered again. Right now he couldn't stop the cruel hands of fate, but all that really mattered was that his loved one was safe and sound.

Cromwell cried the last of his tears. He started making himself comfortable for bed. He opened the first three buttons of his doublet and untied his chemise. He laid himself down next to his son and tucked himself in under the covers. He kissed his son on the head and rolled himself on his side facing away from his son.

And Cromwell cried himself into a dreamless sleep.

^^Wow and I thought the situations I put Thomas More in was bad! O.O Anyway I hope you enjoy oh yeah this is the last time I am EVER being nice to Cromwell!