Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story. Hal Yorke and Nick Cutler belong to the creators of 'Being Human' and the rest of the characters belong to 'The Tudors'. I've tweaked Cutler's storyline and history so he can fit into my Tudor story. Check out my profile if you're interested in knowing the cast.

1535

Nicholas Cutler rapped his knuckles gently against the great oaken door of the study and waited patiently for it to be answered. The candles in the hall way flickered several times as the cold, night air seeped in through the poorly insulated windows and spread a chill across the creaking house. He couldn't wait to be leaving this shit hole. The house was dilapidated and crumbling around their very ears. But vampires always did like to be clichéd and live in houses that inspired a creepy, eerie atmosphere.

How he longed for his old house, that happy place where the fire in the hearth was crackling and the embers glowed like precious stones. The homely sound of the servants chattering away, the men chortling whilst the women giggled and hummed lullabies. The place was filled with the heavenly scent of lavender and sage that his wife used to burn to sweeten the air. How he missed her pretty face. Her warm hands. Her loving smile. Her inviting lips...

But all that was gone now. Long gone and soon to be forgotten.

He knew he was not worthy of such treasures. He did not deserve such delights.

After a minute's waiting, the door flung open and Cutler was met by the sight of a handsome young man with hazel eyes who regarded him in a rather haughty manner. He cocked his head at him for a moment, inspecting his finery, before he turned on his heel and went back inside the room, leaving the door ajar for Cutler to follow behind. The man casually flung himself into a soft backed chair behind an imposing table and propped his feet up on top of it, showing off the impeccably clean soles of his boots.

"Cutler" the man finally acknowledged with a curt nod of the head.

"Lord Hal" Cutler greeted, showing his master all due respect by giving him a brief bow from the waist.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he inquired in a slow, composed manner, as though time bent to his will and not the other way around.

"Griffen said you wished to see me" Cutler hesitated, puzzled at his master's ignorance.

"Did he now?" Hal deliberated, clearly enjoying teasing his youngest recruit. He liked to make people doubt themselves. It gave him an overwhelming sense of power that made him feel drunk.

"He told me to prepare myself for a trip. That we were leaving in the morning" he relayed almost word for word what Griffen had told him. He was fidgeting nervously now, thinking that they were playing yet another trick on him. They liked toying with fresh meat. Hal had barely moved an inch during their conversation but continued to smile condescendingly at him as he watched the young man become increasingly more flabbergasted and agitated.

Looking at the two men, one would assume that Hal was of a more aristocratic standing than his friend with his natural grace, noble gait and fine manner of speaking. However, the truth was that Hal had come from the lowest of the low. He had been raised in a brothel, the son of a whore and her unnamed client. He didn't even know which of the seven whores who habited the place was his natural birth mother, though he loved each and every one of them as though she were. He was barely seventeen when all his mother figures had passed away, either due to violence or disease, and so he decided to go overseas and make his fortune. He made himself a career in the army, though he lost what little innocence he had left after witnessing the brutality and cruelty of humankind.

Cutler, on the other hand, was the son of a northern cloth merchant. Although he wasn't noble by any means he had a comfortable upbringing and was well educated, going on to study law and passing out at Oxford University. He was happy with his life before it took its dark turn. He had a rewarding career, a cozy house and a beautiful wife who he doted upon and completely adored.

But both men's lives were completely transformed by a single vampiric bite to the neck. Hal had been gifted with a second chance. A chance to live his life how he wanted to and create his own rules. And how he flourished with his new found power. He was respected and feared by all, and no longer went by his birth name Henry Yorke but was now refered to as Lord Hal. And he was worshipped as an almost demi god by his faithful vampire subjects.

But Cutler had lost everything he had ever loved and there was no getting it back. He was little better than a pitiful dog now and he constantly pined for his darling wife.

Oh Rachel.

His heart sunk at the thought of her. The memories were still painful.

His poor, loving wife. The guilt weighed down heavy upon his shoulders. It was his fault that she had died. He should have killed himself the moment Hal had turned him into a blood sucking leech. That way they would not have held any power over him. He may have been dead, but at least he would have been free of them. But he was as weak a vampire as he was as a man, and his love for his wife trumped everything.

She knew that.

He knew that.

They knew that.

And as a result, Hal decided that she must be annihilated.

Cutler was to be his. Mind, body and soul.

Some times Cutler found it hard to even look at Hal without feeling sick to the pits of his stomach. He who had inflicted this curse upon him. He who stolen the last remaining glimmer of his humanity. He had hoped to God that she had not suffered terribly at their hands. He prayed that her death was swift and painless. The thought that she might have been tortured to her death haunted his mind. He had nightmares about it. He had never heard his wife scream, but he often imagined what it might have sounded like. Morbid curiosity made him want to interrogate Hal about that night. Fear of what he might hear stopped him dead.

"Where are we going?" Cutler inquired, finally catching on that Hal was toying with him and trying to provoke him for a reaction.

"Patience is a virtue" Hal proclaimed in a playful, sing song manner.

"You've rid me of all my virtues" he coldly reminded him and Hal couldn't help letting out a sinister little snicker.

"But seemingly not of your emotions. You're still sore over your wife" he observed, "Forget the little slut! She's not worth your tears. Nor the tears that she cried for herself"

"I asked you, where are we going?" he demanded. Hal's eyes enlarged, impressed that the whippet was becoming more forceful with him. He knew the only way to make him tougher was to goad him about such things. And it seemed to be working.

"To court, my dear Nicholas"

"Another mess for me to clean up? What has he done this time?" he inquired with a roll of his pale blue eyes. He brought his hand up to his forehead in an effort to nurse the start of what appeared to be an oncoming migraine. Who would believe that the undead still experienced headaches?

He began to ponder what Fergus could possibly have done now.

Fergus! Bane of my existence!

This was the reasons why he had been recruited in the first place. To clean up after their stupidity.

Most of the time if a vampire messed up all he had to do was to eliminate the witnesses. But things had grown more complicated as of late and many a time they risked losing their head or experiencing a long drop from a short rope. And now it was Cutler's personal responsibility to defend them and keep all supernatural situations under the radar.

For the time being any way.

But it had soon become obvious that Fergus was the primary culprit in all his recent dealings.

The man seemed to have no will power and dealt with everything in the same brash and thuggish manner as he always did.

Barbarian!

"Au contraire! Not a court of law" Hal revealed with childish glee, "The royal court. We're going to London, Nick. To meet the King" he finally announced.

"The King?" he puzzled. He was beginning to grow use to Hal's radical and theatrical plans, but this one had caught him rather off guard. He looked up at his master with huge, quizzical eyes. What on earth did meeting with the King have to do with their current mission and aims? But Hal could read Cutler's thoughts with a meagre glance into his eye and he decided to answer his unvoiced question.

"My plan of recruiting an army doesn't end with you and the others. No no, I have big plans for England" he smiled ominously.

It was universally known around the world that Henry VIII had a big appetite for everything, whether it be food, fashion or females. But it was equally well known that he was a rather fickle man, and what he adored one minute, he despised the next. The latest victim of his obsessive passions and loathing was none other than his second wife, Anne Boleyn. For what had started out as a passionate love affair had soon soured and now he had nothing but utter contempt and scorn for her.

And now the whole court waited patiently to see what would happen next, for they all knew that the King had his eye on one of her lady-in-waitings. In fact, it seemed every body but the lady herself knew the King was madly in love with her. Jane Seymour was a sweet, kindly creature and as pure as the driven snow. She thought herself the plainest girl that ever was and could never take a compliment well. And this was what partially attracted the King towards her. She was a dove in a court of peacocks. Where others sought to make themselves visible with gaudy jewels and bawdy behaviour, Jane was the epitome of maidenly modesty and kept herself well hidden amongst them. And strangely enough, it was this behaviour that made her stand out from the others.

The King was enchanted by the unassuming angelic beauty and was determined to have her for his own. The only question was, would Jane consent to be his mistress or would she play the Queen at her own game? For Anne had protected her virtue and refused to sleep with the King until she knew the crown was safely in her grasp and a wedding ring would be place upon her finger. Would Anne now be the victim of her own scheme? It would be a cruel reminder indeed that Jane did to Anne what Anne had done to Henry's first wife, the saintly Katherine. Divine justice, her enemies snickered from behind their handkerchiefs.

Cutler observed his surroundings with wonderous glee. He had never seen anything so decadent as a King's palace before and he was overwhelmed and in awe of the gilded ceilings and tapestry adorn walls. The colours and rich textures of the courtiers' gown mixing together dazzled him like a spinning top. And the strong scent of perfume lingering upon salty, sweaty skin made his mouth water. He could hear blood gushing through the veins of the couple's who were dancing, their little hearts pumping away like slave galleys. He was transfixed on one particular couple close by to him. He could smell them. He could almost taste them...

"Focus, Cutler!" Hal warned, regaining his attention with a sharp tap to the back of his neck. Cutler shook his head in order to break free from his trance and a stray brown lock fell into his eyes. "Now think carefully. Whose patronage would we best benefit from? The failing Queen or the rising star?" he asked like a wise old mentor trying to test his pupil. Cutler regarded the two ladies.

The Queen was sat lonely at the head of the table, her eyes lingering upon her husband who danced shamelessly with beauty after beauty right before her very eyes. He had refused to dance with her this night but she wore her indignity well and kept her chin raised high and proudly. She was still handsome and capable of seducing her temperamental husband. Her eyes were alluring, her mouth was sensual, and her hair, which was as dark as the midnight sky, cascaded over her shoulders and exposed her elegant, swan like neck. No man could resist her for long, even if they did despise her.

He then shifted his attention on to the Seymour girl.

Straight away he could see why she enchanted to the King so much. She was truly angelic to behold with her huge turquoise eyes, flawless alabaster skin and hair which seemed to be made out of spun gold. She was a picture of timidness, with her eyes cast down to the floor and her back pushed against the wall in an effort to remain a wallflower. She was a complete innocent, a virgin in every sense of the word, and would have been tempting appetizer for any man. But to the ever growing despondent King, she was a prize to be preserved and cherished, for she was a rare jewel of virtue indeed.

"Why not have a foot in each door?" he coldly suggested.

He had become aware that he rarely viewed humans as individuals these days. They were not people to him any more but merely food. And he found that he cared less and less about his old species with each passing day. A thought that truly chilled him whenever he stopped to think about it deeply.

"Then you'd better get mingling" Hal informed him, please by his protegé's answer. "You see that man there?" he inquired, discreetly inclining his head towards a goggled eyed man whose head seemed too small for his body. "That is Thomas Cromwell. He's the Chancellor of the Exchequer and used to be a lawyer. Impress him with your credentials and infiltrate his household. You are to be my spy" was his simple command.

"And what about you?" Cutler dared to ask.

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" was his enigmatic reply and he shot him his charismatic smile as he walked off and left poor Cutler to ponder how he would approach Cromwell regarding a position in his household. He was certain he would think of something quickly with that clever lawyer's brain of his.

Hal walked into the centre of the great hall and cast a glance over the chamber, looking lustily upon its inhabitants. He always did enjoy a good game of hunting and he had many victims to prey upon here.

The rich, greedy nobles.

The sumptuous lady-in-waitings.

The ambitious, scheming upstarts.

The broken Queen.

The clueless virgin.

And the biggest prize of them all.

The tyrannical King.

And he was sure they would all taste delicious.