Bed of Deceit

Author's note: Well, this chapter turned out longer than I expected. Gotta love when characters who were only supposed to have minimal appearance – cough cough…Mary – end up wrestling their way to a powerful performance. Lol. Furthermore, while I was initially a little anxious to post this work of mine (I haven't written in so long or posted anything), I am glad to see my fear of being an awful writer alleviated. In any case, I hope you enjoy and review.

Reviewer love: Big thanks to HenryxAnnefan, JoeKS, QueenAnneTudor and Wishing for Dragons for their reviews. I appreciated the enthusiasm and look forward to see if you continue to like BoD.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Tudors or any character that belong to the show/history. However, all original characters are mine.

*/*/*

Chapter 2: Indestructible

Hampton Court, London, England

"I hope the food is to your liking, your Excellency?"

Robert Tulloch's hazel eyes shot up from his plate to the expectant face of the King of England. Smiling graciously, he nodded.

"It is most delicious, your Majesty. Brings back memories from my homeland."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I am surprised English cooks were able to bring a taste from Scotland to your table, if I may be so bold."

Henry laughed good-heartedly.

"You may. I am satisfied with your critique for that is what I aimed for specifically tonight."

Surprise etched on Robert's facial features, something that didn't escape Henry's sharp eye.

"Oh?"

"Given that it is your last night at our court, we could not let you depart and reward your many years of efficient service without a token of our appreciation, now could we? No, my dear friend. Such devotion and hard work needed to be repaid and what a better way than give you a taste of the home you will soon return to."

The Scottish Ambassador did not know what to say. Henry continued.

"While they are not from Scotland, the cooks whom prepared this meal are from the Welsh Marshes and were selected amongst the finest that could be found on such short notice. Close enough, I'd say."

"Indeed, your Majesty. But while I am deeply honored your royal person went to such lengths for little and humble me, I simply feel undeserving of it all."

"Nonsense!" Henry exclaimed. "Your Excellency again and again proved me how devoted and good-hearted he is. You respect of today's festivities hasn't gone unnoticed. It makes you a great, nay, honorable man. I cannot express my thanks enough for such a display. "

"It came from the heart." was all Robert replied, a lump forming in his throat at the painful reminder. The King may not have meant to stir the subject up but he had nonetheless. Tears welled in his eyes, forcing him to look at the ceiling for a moment.

Today had been an emotional challenge for near every living soul in England. And while he was not English by birth, Tulloch himself had felt the deep and charged sense of loss that had permeated the Kingdom.

On this day, England had come together to celebrate the memory of their beloved late Queen, Anne Boleyn Tudor.

Rain had poured sporadically throughout the day, as if the angels themselves had wept for the woman who had been tragically stolen away from her family, her friends and her subjects. Still, it hadn't deterred the whole of London from taking part in the elaborate ceremonies the King had organized with the help of his eldest daughter, who had been the chief mourner at her stepmother's funeral. And if that hadn't been enough, people from all over the Kingdom had flocked to the capital as well. If the sheer amount of courtiers present in the Great Hall at this very moment was any indication, Robert wouldn't be surprised to learn every inn and gentry's home were packed at maximum capacity.

Good Queen that she was, she deserved the adulation, respect and outpour of grief her subjects demonstrated today.

Robert Tulloch had taken over the post of Ambassador of Scotland in the summer of 1527, about a year before the sweating sickness had ravaged the Kingdom and claimed the life of Katherine of Aragon. At the time, Anne had already caught the King's eye and captured his heart. However, she had refused to become his mistress and remained respectful of her Queen as much as she possibly could – or at least, as much as Henry had allowed her to –.

He had witnessed firsthand how their loved had blossomed and evolved, all the while developing quite a fondness of the young woman, for she was well educated and quite the astute politician. He remembered, with melancholy now, how interested she had been in promoting French and Scottish interests alike, always asking for news of the two Kingdoms, eager for information not out of deceit but simple curiosity. She had entertained him on many occasions, challenging his wits and pushing him to appreciate England's charms. Truthfully, without her, he would have given up on his ambassadorship at the end of his two-year contract, as planned, for he had felt neglected and shunned by her predecessor. Indeed, Katherine of Aragon had never been very keen of Scotland, preferring to improve Spanish relations over any other.

But all that had become water under the bridge when Anne's role at court had become more prominent. She, as opposed to her predecessor, had opted not to favor any alliance in particular, considering every Kingdom of equal value. And now…now…her loss had left a profound void in the heart of the people, in her birth country and all over Europe alike, including himself.

"An honorable sentiment, your Excellency. We are touched and equally as thankful as our sovereign."

Robert's eyes met with the cobalt blue irises of Thomas Boleyn.

The man has aged considerably since her Majesty's death.

It was true. Anne's loss had devastated her father and his grief had prematurely left scars of age upon the elder man's features.

"Ah, my Lord Wiltshire! We are glad to see you finally returned to court!"

"It is an honor, as always, your Majesty."

"I trust your journey to the Netherlands was pleasant?"

With the King's attention on the Duke of Wiltshire, Ambassador Tulloch resumed eating while letting his hazel orbs trail over the Great Hall. Everywhere he looked, the same grief that swam in his heart was reflected in the eyes of courtiers.

Nay. Almost…everywhere.

Upon his sight landing to the right of the King, a wave of cold fury rose within him. The woman sitting there, as well as the two standing little ways behind her…their eyes held no grief…at all. All he could read was contempt, boredom and annoyance…and it infuriated him on a level he never knew was even possible.

Her most beloved, kind and fair late Majesty would spin in her grave if she saw that pathetic excuse of a human being sitting next to the King, upon HER throne, ungratefully and wrongfully laying claim to HER title.

Jane Seymour.

Even just her name was enough to set his blood ablaze with hatred. He had never liked the woman, from the very first time they had met. She had timidly looked at him, from the spot she had been standing on amongst Katherine's ladies, and immediately, repulsion had echoed within his heart, on all levels. She had stirred a deep-seated feeling of enmity and that feeling had grown even stronger over the ten years he had been employed at the English court. First, when he had become aware she had set out to catch the King's eye. Then, when she had – deliberately, he knew for a fact due to his trustworthy sources – arranged for the Queen to catch her kissing the King while she dealt with difficulties over her latest pregnancy. Following the scandal, the insolent little trollop had started to flout protocol, as well as her duties, where her Mistress was concerned. Her increasingly haughty attitude had only worsened her case but the point of no return had been reached in the days following the Queen's death. Her open disrespect and utter indifference, albeit veiled for the King's sake, had forever buried the 'pale wench' – as the Boleyns, Howards and most of the royal households had taken to calling her out of earshot – in his esteem.

But today…today…of all days…, she had proven him how utterly rotten she truly was at her core. And he had fiercely battled, with all his might, the near-incontrollable urge that had been simmering within him to walk up to her and ring her neck for all to see.

He could feel that urge rising again as he watched her sitting there, pretending to a throne and a title she was the last person on earth worthy of.

Oh how he couldn't wait for the morrow to come and return to his homeland, away from this grotesque insult to the memory of the loveliest woman he had ever been gifted to know!

The sound of a hand colliding strongly with the wooden dining table broke him out of his thoughts.

"His Excellency hasn't even heard a word of what we have been saying!" Henry exclaimed with mirth in his eyes.

Robert's own refocused on the King, a sly smirk stretching on his lips.

"I beg your pardon, Majesty. My mind drifted to my children, whom I haven't seen in many months. It will be a joy to see them again."

"Ah! Perfectly understandable!"

"Yes," the Duke of Wiltshire agreed. "…our time with our children passes us by so fast, no minute should ever be wasted."

"I echo the sentiment. Ever since that fateful day a little more than a year ago…"

Tulloch couldn't help but notice that even now, after all this time, the King couldn't bring himself to mention the tragedy in question by name.

"...I, myself, find that there is never enough time when I visit the children in the nursery, and that in spite of the fact that I see them near every day. Every single time, I swear, they have grown more than the last."

"The Princess Elizabeth, Princess Rose and Prince Liam are fine children, Majesty. They do you and their late mother credit. England ought to be proud of her heirs. "

"She is." Henry replied, paternal pride illuminating his features. "All four of them."

The Ambassador nodded, understanding the reference.

It had been one point of contention between the late Queen and the King for the longest time, starting from their official betrothal up until her death: the legitimacy status of his eldest daughter, Mary, and her place within the Succession.

Even before the sweating sickness had taken Katherine's life, Anne had shown respect and care for the princess. She had made many overtures of friendship to the young lady and her efforts, while resisted at first, had eventually born fruits. Of course, the restraint she had displayed in deference to the feelings of the younger woman's sainted mother and subsequent – and sincere – outward display of utmost respect after her predecessor's passing had further endeared her to Henry's eldest daughter, as well as the rest of the Kingdom and Europe. The two had become quite close over the years and Anne had made it one of her primary concerns to champion Mary's rights. However, her husband had proven stubborn and resisted his wife's attempts as much as he could, giving very little ground to what the Queen had considered of the utmost importance.

Anne's perseverance on the matter had often angered the King but born fruits nonetheless, as small as they had been; thanks to her stepmother, Mary had ultimately regained her legitimacy and title of Princess AND been returned to court, where she had been reconciled with her father. However, Henry had utterly refused to restore her to the succession, even after any of his children with Anne, present and future.

The Queen hadn't been happy over the decision but decided to settle for what she had been able to give back to her stepdaughter…for the moment. It had been clear to him that she intended to raise the issue again at some point in the future. And he just knew she would have…if her life hadn't been so tragically cut short.

But Fate works in mysterious ways and seven months after the loss of his beloved wife, Henry had surprised Mary by not only restoring her to the Succession behind her three younger siblings but also ennobled her, bestowing the title of Duchess of Devonshire upon her in her own rights and to be inherited by her offspring. The elevation had not only honored Anne's memory, and long-time wishes, but also created the princess a duchess twice over, due to her marriage four months prior.

"Speaking of, Majesty, I noticed Her Highness' absence from tonight's feast. Given how close she was to the late Queen, it comes as a surprise."

"It is nothing to be concerned about, Excellency," the King assured him. "Her Highness simply had other matters to tend to before joining us. I have no doubt she will be here shortly."

"His Majesty just informed us of your imminent departure, Ambassador," Boleyn interjected. "We are, and I speak for the Boleyns and Howards alike, saddened by such news. You have always been a dear friend and held in very high esteem by us. You will be missed."

"The feeling is mutual, my Lord Wiltshire. Alas, my time on English soil must come to an end. The loss of your most beloved daughter has proven too much to bear even now, a little over a year after it occurred. Without her vibrant, beautiful and charming self, court has lost its appeal to me and while I honored the last year of my contract out of deference to her memory, I simply cannot remain where I find no joy to be. I mean no offense, your Majesty."

"None taken, Excellency. What you say is true. The English court has lost its light, its shining star."

"It remains, nonetheless, quite a pleasant and distinguished court."

"Of course. Still, as the Duke said, your person will be missed."

"I am confident your Majesty will be satisfied with my successor and equally appreciative of his eagerness to please in any way possible. Lord McKenzie and I have known each other for the longest time, ever since we were wee bit lads, in fact. We were taught by the same tutors and hold the Anglo-Scottish relations in the highest regard. He will be a fine replacement, of that I give you my word."

"We are pleased to hear so."

Their conversation was halted by the booming voice of the royal crier and the two subsequent loud thumps of his staff colliding with the floor.

"Her Highness, the Princess Mary, Duchess of Devonshire and Ormonde!"

All eyes in the Great Hall darted to the door where Mary entered, richly dressed in a midnight blue gown. She held her head high and walked up the aisle toward the royal dining table, carrying herself gracefully with a gentle smile on her lips. As she passed them, courtiers stood up and bowed to her as was required then sat back down in their seat, waiting to resume their meal and conversations.

Once in front of dais, she dropped in an elegant curtsey – perfected by her beloved former stepmother at her request – and lowered her eyes to the floor.

"Your Majesty," she greeted her father in a warm and loving voice. "Your Excellency, My Lord Wiltshire. My Lord husband." Then, her voice lost all warmth, replaced with chilling coldness. "Lady Jane." Without another word, she rose and made her way to the seat between her father-in-law and George.

Immediately, the Great Hall became abuzz with conversations once more as courtiers resumed eating and musicians resumed their playing.

"My dear daughter," Henry began, "we are overjoyed that you are gracing us with your presence tonight. His Excellency, Ambassador Tulloch, had just expressed his concern over your absence."

"I apologize for my tardiness but today's events allowed me very little time with my daughter and I simply needed to see her for a few moments."

"Just as I predicted! And how is my lovely granddaughter?"

"Her governess Lady Ashley assures me Annabella is as healthy and lively a babe as she has ever seen, even sometimes comparing her to my beloved sisters and brother."

"Good." Henry replied, happy to see his eldest radiating pride, happiness and joy.

"Speaking of, Father, where are their Highnesses?" Before he could reply, Jane beat him to it.

"They departed for Hatfield late this morn."

From the corner of her eye, Mary saw her father's own twitch and his jaw tighten. Obviously, he'd had no idea. At the same time, she felt anger rise through her.

"You did what?" she hissed, the goblet of wine she had picked up finding its way back to the table abruptly.

Recognizing the famous Tudor temper rearing its head, George tried to placate his wife by covering one of her hands with one of his own.

"Darling…" he began but she would not be deterred.

"How could you?" she exclaimed, her voice loud enough to bring the Great Hall to a complete silence. "I always knew you to be a cruel and vindictive person. Sending my dear siblings away, especially today of all days – when the memory of their beloved and kind mother is honored – proves the truthfulness of my beliefs."

Beside Henry, Jane accused the shock of her stepdaughter's stinging words and took a deep breath.

"I judged it best for them to be away from court, especially with so many people flocking to London. The risk of sickness breaking…"

Mary's cold and sarcastic laugh stopped her mid-sentence.

"By all means, Lady Jane, entertain us with one more of your poor, pathetic, excuses." George's jaw dropped at his wife's audacity.

"Mary!"

She ignored him. Her blue eyes were fixated on the opportunistic woman sitting beside the King, pretending to be a paragon of virtue. If looks could kill…

"You may think you have me fooled like the rest of the courtiers, Madam, but I assure you I can clearly see through your deceitful words."

"You forget yourself, my Lady." Jane warned with confidence, irate to be spoken to so disrespectfully. There had never been any lost love between the two women and she had learned to accept her stepdaughter would never be anything more than civil to her but this was crossing the line. She was the Queen, for God's sake!

Henry, Robert and Thomas, seated between the two ladies, continued to eat quietly but were entirely focused on the argument taking place. The King, particularly, felt he should intervene – given that the Queen was being talked to in such an insolent manner – but a small voice inside his head insisted that his daughter must have a good reason to behave this way. He didn't even spare an ounce of concern that every courtiers present were being witness to such a scene. Neither did he truly care for the feelings of his - he loathed the reminder - wife.

Mary's eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring. Beside her, George cringed.

"I forgive myself, me, a Princess of England? I am of royal blood, unlike you! You have some nerve threatening me, in any way, shape or form, especially in front of the King, who also happens to be my father...my own kin. Not very wise." Outrage fueled the anger pulsating within her veins. "Then again, your actions today…or rather inaction, let's call it what it truly was…showed just how little wisdom you do possess. Not only did you send my siblings away of your own accord while they deserved to be here but you also completely flouted the proper dressing code for such ceremonies, as opposed to every man, woman and child who participated, while also deliberately snubbing any honor due to Queen Anne's memory. And to top it all off, you came up with a truly ridiculous reason as to why you would not join the planned pilgrimage to her tomb. A pilgrimage, need I remind you, that you were informed of months ago."

"My concern for the health of my future child is in no way ridiculous…"

"It is! Do you really think we wouldn't know if there was even a shred of chance for a sickness outbreak anywhere in the Kingdom? Ever since the sweat took the lives of my mother, Thomas More and Cardinal Wolsey 9 years ago, just to name a few, God bless their souls, preventive measures have been created and implemented to safeguard the good people of England. Messengers are dispatched as soon as physicians detect any contagious illness. And, by God, are you so dense as to believe any self-respecting subject would deliberately jeopardize the health and well-being of any member of the Royal Family? They wouldn't."

"Still…"

"You had no valid excuse, Madam. None. Even Doctor Linacre confirmed it was perfectly safe for you to take part in today's ceremonies but you refused for all, save this one. And even now, I can see how indifferent you are to the true meaning behind this feast and I see that as being nothing short of blasphemy! My dearly departed stepmother deserves to be honored. She gave England the male heir it so desperately needed and for that, her glory will forever remain in all our hearts. Her memory is indestructible and it makes me sick to my stomach to even have to see you sit upon her throne where she should be!"

"Well, she is not. She is gone and here I am, whether you like it or not."

Jane's tone, final and laced with contempt, was the ultimate straw for Mary. Her chest heaving, she abruptly pushed her chair back, stood up and walked down the dais and around the table. Facing her father, she gave a shallow curtsey.

"I apologize, Father, but as much as I desire to honor Anne's memory and take part in this feast, I must request permission to leave. I cannot stand to be one more minute in the presence of this hypocritical, selfish and undeserving wanton that profanes the throne she sits upon."

Jane's jaw dropped.

"Henry!" she exclaimed, deeply offended and expecting her husband to take up her defense as he should.

It only managed to reinforce Mary's anger and give her further motivation to finally allow her to express her heart's content fully.

"How dare you!" she nearly roared. "His Majesty, in all his wisdom, will not defend you because he knows I speak the truth. You are nothing more than a pretender to the sacred title of Consort and you will never, ever, truly bear it! That honor will forever belong to Anne. Not even your very timely fortune," she continued, pointing to Jane's slightly swollen midsection " – which is what landed you your current position in the first place – will change that. Anne remains, and will always remain, England's true Queen and the mother of its heirs, including myself. As far as I am concerned, my Kingdom has no Consort."

Done with her tirade, Mary once more curtsied to the King knowing he would not stop her then turned around and left. As a show of unity, and vexed as well by the pale blonde hussy, George and his father also bowed to Henry and departed.

The silence permeating the room didn't immediately dissolve upon their leave. Instead, courtiers exchanged looks of surprise and disbelief. Never before had they seen their eldest Princess so furious or even witnessed such a display of defiance from her. But the most shocking of it all had been the King's willingness to let the argument escalate without intervening. Henry the Eighth was not known for his tolerance of any kind of scandal. That he had allowed such as scene as the one that had just taken place to occur could only mean that not all was well with the current royal marriage.

Recovering from their shock, the musicians resumed their playing once again. Following suit, courtiers returned to their conversations, morphing the chilling atmosphere of the Great Hall to a warm one anew.

On the dais, however…

Jane stared at her husband, her hands balled in fists. She could not believe he had allowed Mary to talk to her that way AND abstained from taking her defense.

Henry felt her eyes on him, bearing a hole through his skull. Slowly, he turned his head to meet hers but remained mute.

"How could you?" she asked, breaking the silence that had been hovering between them. "How could you allow her to talk to me this way? I am the Queen!"

He had tried…really tried…to keep his temper in check but her sickeningly sweet voice was just too much to bear. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear.

"Did you ever stop to think that my daughter is right? I did intend for the title of Consort to remain unfilled. I think it would do you good to remember exactly how you came into your position, Madam, for without the child in your womb, you would never have come so far."

He stood up and reluctantly bowed to her.

"Now, if you will excuse me... Pressing matters of state need to be tended to early in the morning so I will retire. I bid you good night. Excellency, I hope you have a safe travel home."

Without another word, he rapidly walked away, leaving Jane no other choice but force a smile for the sake of all in attendance.

*/*/*

McKenzie Estates, Dukedom of Orkney, Scotland

The Duchess of Orkney observed the chessboard in front of her, pondering her next move. Her eyes scrutinized her opponent's piece placement carefully, analyzing every possible movement which she could make against him. Then, she saw it.

A Cheshire cat smile spread on her lips as she reached for her white bishop and moved it in front of black king.

"Checkmate, my Lord."

Charles Brandon sighed heavily. He had lost…again. Pushing his king down, he nodded his head at her.

"Well played, my Lady. Once more, your wits have outsmarted mine. You are proving to be quite the skillful Duchess." Peals of laughter welcomed his surrender.

"Not at all. I simply think you do not have enough time to properly practice, what with all the duties placed on your shoulders."

"You are far too kind, Lady McKenzie." Reclining in her chair, she raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"What you do have perfected, however, is the use of my titles."

"A necessity requited by what the coming future entails. It would not do to slip and endanger all of our carefully hard-earned work."

"Indeed." she agreed, reaching for her cup of tea and taking a sip. Her sapphire blue eyes found the horizon and roamed the endless sea visible through the open window in front of them.

Across from her, Charles reclined as well, observing her delicate features.

William was right to be concerned.

His friend, Lord William McKenzie, Duke of Orkney, had informed him upon his arrival that he harbored worries for the Duchess. Judging by the dark circles clearly visible under her eyes, she had not been sleeping well. He couldn't blame her, of course…not after learning of what she had been through…what she probably had been reliving at night these past weeks if Lady Lockhart's testimony was to be believed.

It was to be expected, in some kind of cruel and twisted way. Nobody who went through such a traumatic experience and been scarred so deeply could remotely forget.

Charles closed his eyes, the familiar warmth of anger forming in the pit of his stomach. He remembered, so vividly even now, every detail of the nightmare she had been subjected to as it had been conveyed to him three months ago by the man who had saved her. Edward Seymour.

"My Lord Suffolk, I know you are in shock but you must listen to me."

Shocked had been the understatement of the moment. Charles had been more than shocked. His best friend's wife…his friend…his Queen…had not died as every soul in England had been led to believe. She had not perished in the fire that had utterly destroyed Wolf Hall nine months prior after giving birth to her son like they'd all thought. She was alive…alive and healthy now that she had recovered…and living in Scotland as the Duchess of Orkney…

"She's alive." he had murmured, realization slowly sinking in as Edward pushed him down on a nearby chair. "It isn't a dream, is it?"

"No, my Lord. She is not a mirage or a trick of the mind. She is truly alive." He'd barely heard the other man order two ladies to fetch two goblets and a bottle of whisky.

Then, it had sunk in fully.

Anne was alive. That meant… Henry wasn't a widower! His new marriage to Jane Seymour was unlawful and effectively invalid!

"Henry! We must send a messenger to him right away and let him know!" Edward had shaken his head firmly.

"He can't."

"What? Have you lost your mind, Seymour? Henry has to know Anne is alive!"

"He will but not now. For her sake, allow me to explain..."

In spite of himself, he shuddered, his mind recalling every horrid detail; assaulted by his younger brother Thomas Seymour…violated…nearly raped…violently – nay, brutally - injured and left for dead to burn in an inferno set by that lowlife and their equally manipulative eldest sister…how it had taken months for her injuries to heal, at least physically…

The cracking of his knuckles broke her out of her thoughts.

"Charles. I am fine. I assure you."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"The circles under your eyes tell a different story." She sighed despite the smile that formed on her lips.

"I never thought I would see the day where you would become quite the mother hen worrying over me."

"By God, Anne! This is no funny matter!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. "William had Dorothy disclose his concerns to me upon my arrival and I see now that he had a valid reason to be worried."

"I have experienced nightmares over the past two weeks, so what? All things considered, it shouldn't come at much of a surprise."

"It doesn't. Still..."

"Charles, while I appreciate your concern, I need you to trust me when I say I'm fine. A little sleep deprivation is nothing to worry about, especially in the face of everything to come." Nodding, he relented, recognizing the wisdom of her words.

Silence fell over them for a moment before he spoke again.

"Anne…" he began, his tone laced with apprehensiveness "…are you ready to embark in this journey, truly? There is still time to change to your mind. You can still choose to remain here and…"

"And what, exactly?" she challenged, her temper awakening. "Give up? Abandon my family; my husband and children?" The thought itself, as outrageous as it was, stirred the strongest sense of repulsion in her heart. It took every ounce of her control to stay seated. "Since when have you known me to forfeit in the face of a challenge? Have I not always risen to those placed before me?"

"Yes, but what is at stake here is your life! You were almost murdered!"

"Don't you think I know that? Every single night of the past two weeks has reminded me of the fate I narrowly escaped. If it hadn't been for Edward, I would not be here tonight, ready to face my destiny and rise from the ashes to reclaim everything that has been taken from me!"

Her outburst reduced him to silence.

"Do you doubt me, Charles? Do you not deem me worthy of being your Queen anymore? Worthy of reuniting with the love of my life; of being a wife; of being a mother to my darling daughters and to the son I have never even been given the chance to know…"

"Anne…. No. Of course, you are. I speak not of doubts about you but of potential consequences if any one of us make a mistake and slip up. Thomas and Jane attempted to kill you once. I have no doubt they would do it again in a heartbeat if they were to find out you're alive before our goal is achieved."

"Let them try if they do." The Duke of Suffolk felt a lump form in his throat at the mere thought.

She can't be serious!

"I fear for you."

"The sentiment is appreciated, but I believe your unease is misplaced. William, Edward, Dorothy, Anne, Cromwell and you have worked together for a year to seek justice for the wrongs that have been committed upon me and England. All we have to do is play our parts right and we will succeed. You all haven't worked this hard to fail."

"Unforeseen difficulties may arise." he reminded her.

"That's a possibility." she acknowledged. "And if it happens, we will deal with it. You will not deter me, Charles. No matter what you say. I have been forced to spend a year without my family – without Henry, Mary, Elizabeth, Rose and Liam –; forced to remain in a bed for six months recuperating from life-threatening injuries; forced to wait to be reunited with them for twice longer with very little news here and there. Nothing can be more difficult than that, I assure you. I am ready, come what may."

One look in her sapphire orbs was enough to see an incorruptible determination burning within. With one heavy sigh, he managed a smile.

"I wouldn't expect any less from you, my brave Queen."

Yet, he could see something else in her eyes. Embedded so deep within, he wondered if he was simply imagining things for a moment; the tiniest spark of dread.

"What is it?" he asked. "There is something you are not telling me, I can see it in your eyes."

She bit her lips, silently cursing his newly sharpened skill of observation.

"What if…what if Henry…has moved on?"

Her question had been spoken so softly that it had come out as nothing more than a whisper. Yet, Brandon had heard her perfectly. He had also anticipated something of the sort. Despite himself, he began to laugh, which only served to infuriate Anne.

"I fail to see how my question warrants laughter, my Lord Suffolk." she retorted sharply, part-hurt, part-angry.

Leaning toward her, Charles reached out to touch her hands.

"Anne, Henry may be wed to her now, most unlawfully at that, but his heart has always remained with you."

"She is with child." she pointed out flatly, the words hurting her to her very soul. "Ambassador Tulloch informed the Scottish court three months ago. Quite a contradiction to your statement."

"The child is irrelevant." His mysterious response piqued her curiosity.

"What do you mean by…"

Her question was interrupted by the arrival of her 'husband'.

"My Lord." Charles greeted, standing up.

"Suffolk. I have made sure that everything is ready for our departure."

"Most excellent! The Duchess and I had just been discussing the trip. I wanted to make sure she was ready."

"She was ready a fortnight ago."

"And what of you?"

William walked to the back of the chair Anne was occupying.

"I am equally ready as her Majesty and even more anxious to reunite a mother and her children. King James has officially bestowed the position of Scottish Ambassador to the English court upon me this afternoon, my nephew will take care of my estates in my absence and a messenger from Edward informed me our plan can be implemented as soon as we are settled in London."

"What of your household?"

"Anne has selected a few ladies to accompany her and I have several groomsmen at my disposal as well. The rest will stay here and continue service under Brandt's leadership."

"Very well. King Henry charged me to escort you to Hampton Court personally. The trip shouldn't take more than a dozen hours if we keep a steady pace, with one stop for a meal at Ludlow. I hope it is satisfactory."

"It is."

"You are expected to be introduced at a feast tomorrow night. We will therefore leave at dawn, if that is acceptable?" Charles asked, looking expectantly at Anne for confirmation.

"Perfectly." she acquiesced.

"Very well. I shall retire for the night then. I bid you both good night."

"Good night, my Lord Suffolk."

"Good night, Charles."

Once he was gone, William moved to sit down in the chair he had been occupying. For a few minutes, only silence reigned between them. But one look into her eyes told him something was bothering her.

"I know the prospect of seeing your husband and children again must somewhat scare you and…" he started but she interrupted him.

"I am not scared, William, but nervous…about the potential consequences of our actions. For a year now, we have woven this intricate web of lies and deceit and while I am glad it will deliver a well-deserved comeuppance to my would-be murderers in time, the inevitable collateral damage that is going to accompany the fruits of our labor makes me uneasy."

"You are thinking of the babe in that wench's womb."

Anne nodded.

"Amongst others. They are still English people and as Queen, I cannot help but care for their well-being."

William sighed. Reaching over, he grabbed one of Anne's hands tenderly.

"I understand, my Lady. But after everything you have gone through…all the suffering – physical and mental – … you, the woman, deserve justice. England deserves its rightful Queen and mother of its heirs back on her rightful throne. Not some opportunistic and adulterous murderess. Elizabeth, Rose and Liam – as well as Mary – deserve their mother back and no matter his faults, the King needs his rightful wife by his side once more. That is why we went through this elaborate scheming, planning and plotting. For you. All your pain of the last year, and beyond, will not have been in vain. You are indestructible and the world will know it soon enough."

*/*/*

Funny enough, the music I ended up listening to which inspired this chapter was Disturbed- Indestructible. It both describes this story and embodies the character of Anne perfectly.

As most of you have surely noticed, I am no fan of Jane Seymour. I apologize for those who like her but I would rather warn you that in my story, her portrayal will not be a kind one. I have always felt like she really was an opportunist and her obedience towards her family's wish to rise was far more willing than not. In any case, if you like her, you have been warned.

Also, you will most likely notice the absence of Jane Parker. I was never, ever, able to stand her, therefore, she died of the sweating sickness in 1528.