Disclaimer: I obviously do not own The Tudors. If I did, I would have made the show this way and been completely historically inaccurate!
A/N: This is my first fanfic ever, for this fandom and for this website in general. Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is always welcome!
A/N #2: The timeline for this story is more spread out than it was in the show. A good example of this would be that after Henry's ranting to Charles, the executions would not be due to happen for at least a couple days, if not more. Substance is more important to me than date accuracy, so I hope you guys won't mind it. This fic will also be more faithful to the show than the actual history.
Chapter 1: Blatant Absurdity
Charles Brandon sat uneasily in one of the many large and comfortable chairs in the King's dining chamber. It was late in the evening, the world outside an inky darkness that properly matched the Court's mood as of late. Henry VIII, with all of his high and mightiness, was staring at the hearth… still. The remains of their meal lay on the table, Brandon's mostly consumed but the King's hardly touched. But his goblet was empty. The room was eerily silent, only the crackling sound of the fire and Henry's muffled sobs. Charles didn't know what to do, what to say. He believed that the harlot Anne Boleyn was never right to be England's Queen, yet even he was shocked that she had had multiple affairs, including her own brother! He could understand why Henry was so devastated; anyone committing incest was abominable, let alone one's wife.
However, Charles did not think that Henry would be this much of a wreck. When he had accepted the dinner invitation, he had expected tirades of shouting and cursing. But when he arrived, the food was already set out, and Henry was alone in the room. His eyes already had the red rims and puffiness that signified crying for long periods of time. They had eaten in silence, the tension escalating after each bite. Charles thought that Henry's recent dealings with the Seymour girl would have softened the blow, but he was wrong. The hurt and betrayal that darkened Henry's eyes was true and deep, like Henry had never been unfaithful and had his spouse find out.
It had been over two hours since Charles had entered the chamber, and not one audible word had been spoken. That's not to say that Henry did not vocalize any of his thoughts or feelings, it's just that he mumbled a lot in the beginning of the meal; and after the wine had taken hold, his speech became slurred and inaudible. But time was wearing on, and Charles was sure that the intoxication would begin to fade. He hadn't changed his posture since Henry had left the table, which was to say, 45 minutes ago. His neck was beginning to stiffen, as was his back, his knees, and just about every part of his body. Saying that Charles Brandon was tense was an extreme understatement. But even the Duke of Suffolk needed to change his position every so often. He had decided to uncross his legs, slowly, and turn his neck to the side, ever so slightly. But just as he was about to lift his booted foot, Henry grabbed the wrought iron coal poker. Charles froze. It wasn't that he thought that his life was in danger, or that Henry meant to inflict any bodily harm upon him, it was just that all Henry had been doing for the past 45 minutes was pace with his arms behind his back, and the change in habit probably signaled something greater to come. He was right. Henry opened his mouth.
"Do you know what Cromwell told me, Charles?" he rasped, after not having spoken a fully formed word in over two hours. "She had been involved with over a hundred men. Over a hundred men, Charles!" Henry let out a low whimper and continued to prod the coals of the hearth.
A hundred men? That seemed absurd, even to Charles Brandon, who had never thought highly of Anne Boleyn. At all. He thought that she treated him like a mangy dog, after all. But a hundred men tumbling Anne Boleyn? Impossible! Not only did he think that there weren't even a hundred men foolish enough to get involved with the woman who basically started this whole Reformation, but why would she want over a hundred men anyway? She had all that she could want at Court, and he had even heard from a visiting French courtier that she had never been the topic of much gossip at the French Court, not like her sister Mary. Now, if she had not been the skanky whore he thought she was at the French Court, how could she possibly have racked up over a hundred Englishmen? But Charles could not call Henry out on this yet. Not when he was in this state of mind, and especially because Charles wasn't even sure about Anne's own guilt in this matter. She had seemed like a clever viper when they first met, but even she wouldn't have been able to smuggle over a hundred men into her rooms, or any room, for that matter, without ANY Court gossip or bragging among servants or nobles alike. So Charles stayed silent, showed no facial reaction to this new allegation, and continued to listen to Henry's disbelief. He was mumbling something about how he didn't even believe that Elizabeth was his own daughter.
Ha, now that was a blatant lie. It was obvious who Elizabeth's parents were. True, her facial features were almost miniature copies of Anne's, but those eyes, those deep, piercing, all-knowing eyes were definitely Henry's. Elizabeth's hair even resembled Henry's late mother's. There was not a question in Charles's mind that Elizabeth's was Henry's. How could he even doubt that?
Then there was the matter that the son that Anne had lost was slightly deformed. Yes, Henry was a stuck up, virile man, so he absolutely could not believe that his son could have had some birth defects. But, in Charles's opinion, that could not have been certain, since the boy had not been carried to full term. Sure, the boy could have seemed deformed then, but it wasn't fully matured and could have had time to change. So Charles dismissed that claim as soon as it had come. Henry wasn't in his right mind, and he was sure that someone was manipulating it. As much as he hated Anne for unceremoniously usurping Katherine of Aragon's position, and throwing her out to The More until she wasted away, it didn't seem right for Anne to be set up and put to death, especially on these absurd charges.
Charles's thoughts were interrupted as Henry threw the white hot coal poker to the ground, probably burning the expensive antique rug they dined upon. He collapsed into a heap at Charles's feet, sobbing.
As he stroked the grieving Henry's head, Charles Brandon decided to look into the matter himself. He didn't like Anne, and, like most of the Court, he wanted to stay on Henry's good side. But, his conscience would not allow him to stand by and watch an innocent woman die. Who would want to condemn Anne so thoroughly, and shower her in disgrace? Anne had many enemies at Court, and Charles wouldn't have been surprised if he was included on that long list of enemies not too long ago. He would have to make some inquiries, but he had to be discreet about it. After all, he was the one to bring up Anne's unfaithfulness to the King in the first place, and if he was going to switch sides on the matter, he had better have some hard evidence to back him up.
But it was already late, and he doubted that anyone useful would be up at this hour. Even if they were, it would look suspicious if he were caught talking to them now. So Charles decided to remain with Henry until he was dismissed, plan a strategy for tomorrow, and execute it at first light.
A/N: So, I hope you guys enjoyed this test. It was quite intriguing to write, and will hopefully continue to be. The real AU stuff will start next chapter, but until then, reviews are welcome!