Chapter 2

For one second, she remained frozen, terror immobilizing her. Then instinct won over and Mary swung her hand out wildly in the dark, digging her nails in when she found skin and scratching as hard as she could. Hopefully she had drawn blood.

Her attacker jerked back, grunting in pain and surprise. Mary threw her other fist forward in a punch and caught him somewhere in the gut. He doubled over, gasping. Evidently he had not quite been anticipating the force of her blows.

Mary didn't stop; she kept punching and kicking him until she had pummeled him to the ground. A weapon- something solid- anything, anything!

She grabbed a candlestick and was prepared to continue raining blows upon the scoundrel when he threw up his arms, cowering before her. "Sweetheart! Sweetheart! God's death, what has possessed you?"

"What has possessed you?" Mary screeched, her voice high and cracked as she had never heard it before. "Did you think you could violate a princess of the blood and expect to remain unscathed?"

"A princess of the- Oh, Jesu."

His face sank into his hands, and he muttered, "I am a rank and utter fool."

"And a foul criminal of the very worst sort," Mary snapped. "When the King hears of this-"

The door suddenly opened, and Mary spun around, rearing her candlestick, expecting another attacker.

But it was a young woman, whom Mary vaguely recognized though the name escaped her. She was wearing a hood and cloak, as though to conceal her identity.

The maid glanced between the two of them, her eyes widening. "Geoffrey, you told me you'd found a room that no one ever went into! Not the one held by the Lady Mary!"

"It was up here tucked away in the attic! I thought it was unoccupied."

"You rank and utter fool," the woman said roughly.

"I supposed she thrashed you, didn't she?" she asked, taking in the bruises and cuts blooming on his face. "I'd do much the same if you weren't already bleeding."

Mary could feel a headache brewing, and she rubbed her temples furiously. Her terror was bleeding away, replaced by thorough confusion and anger. "And what is your part in this?" she demanded of the newest addition to the scene.

The other woman curtseyed hastily, ducking her head, though whether in deference or shame Mary knew not. "We meant no disrespect, I swear it, Your Grace!"

Mary was slightly mollified by the honorific, but her scowl did not soften.

"Geoffrey had told me he found a private chamber for the two of us to… to spend the evening together," the maid explained lamely. "He said it was out of the way, and never used. But it clearly wasn't, and you must have had a nasty shock when you found him inside!"

"And when you took me in your arms and tried to force yourself on me!" Mary snapped, humiliation and anger staining her cheeks red.

Geoffrey was so overcome he could not even look at either woman, his forehand still buried in hands. "I thought you were Nell," he mumbled, gesturing at his furious paramour. "You two could pass for twins."

Mary glanced at the maidservant, assessing her appearance properly for the first time. They were of similar height and they both had blue eyes, but the similarities ended there. Mary's hair was the bright red-gold that all the Tudors boasted, while Nell's hair was a duller shade, closer to brown. Their facial structures were completely different, and Mary could also tell that Nell was several years older than her.

Distant cousins, perhaps, but not sisters and definitely not twins. Though to a dullard like Geoffrey, what was the difference?

Mary rounded on both of them. "And do both of you swear that this was nothing more than a misunderstanding? Not some plot to discredit me?" Her nerves were still jangling.

The two nodded emphatically. "In fact, we've helped convey letters from you to Ambassador Chapuys."

Mary crooked an eyebrow. Nell supplied, "There's a network among the servants to sneak out letters to the ambassador. Geoff has met with Chapuys' man many times- brought in a letter two weeks ago from him, and sent a letter from you three weeks before that."

Those matched the dates of the last two letters she had exchanged with Chapuys. Mary nodded, her suspicions finally subsiding. "I believe you. Though perhaps Geoffrey should absent himself from this underground network from now on. He would just as likely hand the letter over to the Concubine herself."

The halfwit had the grace to look ashamed of himself at that comment.

Mary banished the two of them from her chamber and sank onto her bed, her skin burning even though she was alone. She supposed this night's tableau might appear quite comical to a spectator, but she could find no mirth in it, not when she was the key tragic player in it.

The room she was housed in was so shabby, two licentious paramours has thought they could use it for a tryst! Although she could not really blame them, she supposed, glancing about at the bare plaster walls, the cramped furniture, and the dust that covered everything. Her father and Anne had ordered she be given the worst room in the house, and she knew now that the steward of Hatfield had not been remiss in following that command.

And she'd received her first kiss from a bumbling dolt, a kiss that had nearly been a precursor to her own rape. That milestone was gone, taken from her, a gift she'd thought would belong to her future husband. Now it would forever belong to this night, this night of ridiculous misunderstandings and near-misses.

She wondered if she ought to tell anyone, but she almost immediately decided against it. The truth had a way of being distorted and revised, and the events of this night could very easily be twisted against her. Mary had no desire to walk in the luckless Bridget's shoes, and it was that fear that would stay her tongue. She dared not even tell Chapuys. She shuddered to imagine committing those words upon paper and sending that missive into the ether.

If that letter was intercepted!

Mary felt an upwelling of outrage bubbling inside her. She, the Princess of Wales, had nearly been assaulted in her own chamber, and she could not tell anyone, for fear of becoming the accused instead of the accuser!

She had lost much more than her title and her place in the succession when she was bastardized.

She had lost her father's protection, the assurance of safety that had enveloped her like a cloak until it was brutally ripped from her shoulders.

Hatfield truly was an education in itself and in the ways of the world.

Mary sighed and began preparing for bed.


A/N: The inspiration for this oneshot comes from two sources. The first and biggest, the #MeToo movement that took the U.S. (and world) by storm in the past few months. When hearing all the stories of women who were intimidated and abused by those in a position of power above them, I wondered how Mary would have coped with going from Princess of Wales to lowly maidservant at Hatfield, in a position of complete inferiority to just about everyone there. That too, at the tender age of 17-18 years.

The second comes from Chapuys' words in a 1532 letter: "Indeed, I hear [Anne Boleyn] has lately boasted that she will… marry [Princess Mary] to some varlet [a lowborn man], which would be an irreparable evil."

This is my first time writing about such a sensitive topic, and I do hope I haven't offended anyone with my portrayal. It was also my first time writing a fight scene, one-sided as it was. If I've gotten anything wrong, do let me know and I'll try to rectify it.

I have to admit to taking a bit of dramatic license with history here, as it is unlikely Mary ever experienced sexual harassment at Hatfield. Despite her disgrace, she was still the King's daughter and the cousin of the Emperor, and the people around her would have been very conscious of the fact that she may one day be restored to favor. There is also no historical record of any actual instances of it occurring, and Chapuys would have certainly have made sure to report it if Mary suffered it.

However, that doesn't mean Mary was completely immune from this danger, as she was in a very low position and would have been at the mercy of those at Hatfield. Just because she never spoke of it doesn't mean it didn't happen; it is still immensely difficult for women today to speak out about sexual harassment, and it would have been even harder for women in Mary's era. She may well have suffered in silence out of fear or shame, and if she did, it would have been yet another evil she could lay at the feet of the Protestant cause.

I also want to clarify I don't think Anne would have arranged to have Mary harassed, as it would have done Anne's already abysmal reputation no good if Mary was violated while in the care of her relations. Anne did historically rant about having Mary executed, but she was intelligent enough to know that trying to discredit Mary in such an underhanded manner would only backfire on her, Anne. However, Mary would have had no trouble believing such a thing of Anne.

If anyone has any ideas or requests for any moments from Mary's life, seeing her interact with other Tudor figures, AU Mary-centric ideas, or even an entirely Mary-unrelated idea, leave me a comment!

And finally- if you read this whole author's note, you rock!