Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.

A/N: Hello to all my new favs/followers: skittlezxBabex146, Stark-ingMad, anaknisatanas, ElephantLover220, leeyfjs, and Phantom-of-light.

Ch. 3

Men would live exceedingly quiet if these two words, mine and thine, were taken away

~Anaxagoras

"If I had to choose between extreme sorrow and extreme happiness, I would always choose sorrow, for when you are happy you forget about spiritual things, you forget about God. But in your sorrow, He is always with you."

~Katherine of Aragon, The Tudors

Dover November 14th 1532

The English court had just returned from France and had arrived in Dover where they would reside for a few days. Unbeknownst to the court, the king and Mistress Anne had met secretly and were being married by a priest in the late hours of the evening. They met in a secret underground area of one of the churches of Dover, the Boleyn family present. However, the Duke of Suffolk was late, and Henry's anger was beginning to show.

"Where is he? Where's Suffolk?" Henry asked angrily, his impatience getting the better of him. Anne looked irritated. She would not let Suffolk spoil her moment. Suddenly Suffolk appeared, though he appeared to have been hesitant in his arriving. As he came to stand beside the King, Henry hit him across the chest rather abruptly for his late arrival. He then looked to the priest, urging him to start.

The priest then began. "We are gathered here together, in the sight of God Almighty to join in holy matrimony this man and this woman. Will you both answer that you will keep all these coming days rightful with righteousness and discretion, with mercy and truth so help you God?" The Boleyns looked please, Anne and Henry both look forward to their future, and Suffolk stands on in agony. Meanwhile, Cromwell is indifferent. However, all know England is going to change, for better or for worse.

Crosby Hall January 1533

Sir Thomas More, Lady Alice More, Archbishop Fisher, and Ambassador Eustace Chapuys all sit in a parlor room of the More Manor discussing politics of The English court. Alice stands in the background, merely listening and not speaking to the men's conversation. She refills each one's cup with wine as they speak. Fisher's demeanor is tense as he discusses his recent discovery.

"They want to make Cranmer archbishop? I wonder if the pope knows of the reputation Cranmer has here for being devoted heart and soul to the Lutheran movement," Eustace responds with disgust. He appalls the Lutheran Movement for it threatened the Catholic faith.

"He was once chaplain to the Boleyns, He ought to be required to take a special oath not to meddle with the divorce," Fisher adds.

"Of course, he'll meddle. That's what they want. They don't care about Holy Church anymore. They don't care about the people," More says exasperated. His wife comes to rests her hands on his shoulder in a comforting manner.

"The king, in his blindness, fears no one but God," Chapuys continues.

"I fear for the queen," remarks Fisher.

More adds on. "They say Anne Boleyn hates her openly, and her daughter too.

She has made threats against the child."

"Those are dangerous words. Think also of the lives of your own children. Your sister's children. The boys can handle themselves but think of Grace. And she is still with the Princess mind you. She is no longer safe if she stays there of her own volition," Alice says calmly. She speaks with wisdom, calming her husband down.

"Your niece, the Lady Grace, she is still with the Princess?" Chapuys questions. More nods his head, confirming Chapuys words. "How old is she?" More's head jerks up from its position staring down at the table.

"Why?" More responds, "You want to bring her into this?" he continues with a sharp edge to his tone.

"Sir Thomas, I apologize if I offend you, but perhaps she could be of some use to our cause." Chapuys says, a genuine look on his face. He would not let Grace be harmed. "She can speak on the Princess' behalf. Maybe even persuade Mary to ease her stubbornness. I would dare not say this if it was necessary, but the king's eye will roam if that whore is pregnant. His gaze could land on your niece. I'm sure Lord Warwick will also be hesitant, but I see no other option."

"Desperate times call for desperate measure Thomas," Fishers says, "Grace would know what to do. She's an intelligent girl. And she's a woman of God. She could help bring his majesty back to the Catholic faith."

More looked unsettled, Alice even more so as her hands shook. More hesitated before he answered. "I'll…. I'll send a letter to Richard, but I strongly disagree with this. Richard will disagree with this. And Grace, if somehow this idea of yours comes to pass, she will never agree."

Chapuys nodded his head in thanks. "On my honor Sir Thomas, I will not push your family nor Lord Warwick's to do this. But, his holiness would be greatly in your debt. I would be greatly in your debt." Chapuys rose from his seat and bowed respectfully. "Now I must leave. The Queen is expecting me." Both of the men nodded, Chapuys donning a cloak and leaving them. Alice also left, seeing that the two great men needed to speak in private.

"This is a great thing to ask Thomas, but I beg you, please see reason." Fisher leaned over to pat his friend's shoulder before he too left More and returned to his bishopric. Meanwhile, More sat in the parlor consumed by his thoughts. He would not drag Grace into this if he could help it. She would never forgive them, meaning him and her father, if they forced her to insert herself into the king's life. She would rebel. But, Mary…Mary would be the only reason for her consent.

Ludlow Castle February 18, 1533

It was Princess Mary's birthday and yet, she saw no reason to celebrate. She was separated from her mother and her father had practically made Anne Boleyn his queen. Grace knew how hard it was for Mary. She hadn't been to court in years nor had she seen her parents. Letters between Mary and her mother were becoming less and less. Grace's brother Richard had to smuggle the last letter from Mary to her mother, giving Chapuys the letter who was able to make a visit to the queen.

Mary was sitting at a table in the dining room, eating her breakfast next to the pitiful fire. Only a few servants remained, but none of them were kind to her. Though she was a Princess, they barely spoke to her and gossiped about happenings at court in front of her. Their allegiances had changed or maybe, they had been with the Boleyns all along. Mary could only count on Grace who was not only her loyal lady, but her true friend.

Grace soon entered the dining room, having just awoken from her sleep. She had stayed up all night worrying. Her father had sent a letter of Anne's marriage to the king which she revealed to Mary last night. Mary had cried for hours in Grace's arms while Grace barely slept at all. Waking the next morning, Mary had found Grace still dressed, but sleeping at an awkward angle since she had been comforting Mary. The Princess did not wake her friend, deciding to let her sleep a few more hours. She quietly left the room after she dressed herself and had made her way to the dining room where a servant presented a cold breakfast to her at the order of Lady Salisbury.

"Happy birthday Mary," Grace said cheerfully to her friend. Her hands were held behind her back, a letter and parcel in her hands. She presented them to Mary who attempted to look happy at her friend's efforts.

"I said no presents Gracie," Mary remarked, but her demeanor changed immediately when she saw the letter.

"It came this morning. It's from your mother. I'm sure of it," Grace said. Mary's mood improved significantly at Grace's words. "And I hope you enjoy the present. I specifically asked my father for it."

Mary then reached for the parcel, first untying the ribbon and then opening the paper. The gift enclosed was a necklace with a white rose pendant, the symbol of the Yorkist dynasty. "My mother received it as a gift from Queen Elizabeth, your grandmother. I thought it would be fitting to return it to her granddaughter." Mary fingered the beautiful piece of jewelry. The chain was gold with pearls interlaced with it. The pendant was beautiful, with pearls also hanging from it and a ruby set in the middle of the pendant. Tears fell from Mary's face, her heart filled with gratefulness at Grace's gesture.

"Thank you, Grace. I truly appreciate all you have done for me." Grace took her friend's hand and squeezed it in a comforting matter.

"No matter what, I won't leave you Mary. You have my word." Grace released Mary's hand and took her place next to the princess, sitting down at the table. The two girls both ate their breakfast, Lady Salisbury joining them. Mary had thought nothing good could come of her birthday, but Grace proved her wrong as always. With the coming days ahead of her, she would need Grace and by God's will, the girls would not be separated.

Ampthill February 1533

Katherine of Aragon sat next to the fire of her dreary home, but it did little to warm her. No matter how many blankets Lady Elizabeth covered her with, the Queen still shivered and was cold to the bone. She was not used to this, this lack of humane treatment towards her. She feared her life would end here, without her daughter by her side and her husband barely caring for her. As she fingered the rosary in her lap, she dreamed of better days, when she was happy.

"My lady, the Duke of Suffolk," announce Lady Elizabeth as she interrupted the queen's thoughts. Katherine sent a small smile towards Suffolk's direction, but it did not meet her eyes.

"Your Grace," Katherine muttered, holding her hand out. Suffolk grasps it lightly and bows before placing a kiss on her hand respectfully.

Suffolk fiddled uncomfortably with his riding gloves. He couldn't bear to look the Queen in her eyes, knowing what he would say next would break her heart. "My lady…" His voice was slow and hesitant, each syllable a stab to his insides. "His Majesty has ordered me here. He has asked me to tell…" Suffolk's voice emphasizes the threat Henry has asked him to deliver. "He warns you not to try to return to him since he has now married Lady Anne. From henceforth, you must abstain from using the title of queen. You will now be referred to as the Princess Dowager of Wales. You must also cut your household expenses." Suffolk turns away. He cannot bear seeing the queen's forlorn face as she stares into the fire. "In his generosity, the king allows you to keep your property but will no longer pay your servants' wages or your household expenses.".

"And what of my daughter? What of Mary? May I see her?" Katherine is breaking inside now. Her daughter is the only thing she has left to hang onto.

"Madam. Forgive me." That is all Suffolk needs to say to give his answer. He glances at Katherine for a moment before regretting it.

Katherine speaks to him, but her strong nature is still indicated in her sad words. "Do you know something, Mr. Brandon? If I had to choose between extreme happiness and extreme sorrow I would always choose sorrow." She lets out a laugh of despair if that's even possible. Suffolk looks to her in shock. "For when you are happy, you forget. You forget about spiritual things…you forget about God. But in your sorrow he is always with you."

Suffolk turns back to her. "May the Lord bless you and keep you, my lady." He is filled with helplessness knowing that the queen would never return to London as long as the king was married to Anne. He left abruptly, Elizabeth entering with the queen's food as he left.

Katherine motioned for Elizabeth to sit next to her, to which she complied. "As long as I live, I will call myself the Queen of England." The queen sounds determined, but Elizabeth begins to cry. She mourns for her mistress, knowing how bleak her future looked at the moment.

Westminster Abbey April 1533

Archbishop Fisher performs one of his daily masses at a church in his bishopric, blessing the men in front of him before turning to the altar and kneeling. More is concealed behind a column in the church, hiding from the king's spies that may be following him. Fisher can see him from the corner of his eye.

After Fisher rises, More goes to speak with him. His voice is urgent as he speaks, and the pair moves to a more covered area in the church. "Your Grace, I have some news. I have learned that Mr. Cromwell is to present another bill to Parliament: The Act of Restraint of Appeals. And under its innocuous title does it conceal its most revolutionary intent."

"What does it say?" Fisher asks.

More takes a hidden parchment out of his cloak and begins to read. "'This realm of England is an empire governed by one supreme head and king and owing no allegiance except to God.' In future, all final appeals on spiritual matters will be heard not in Rome but in England, where the king…'The king will now enjoy plenary, whole and entire power pre-eminence, authority, prerogative and jurisdiction.'" Abhorrence is evident in More's voice.

"Which means, I take it that the act prohibits the hearing of the king's nullity suit by the pope. And, by the same token, bars the queen from appealing to the Vatican against any decision made here," Fisher comments as he tries to wrap his head around this outrageous document.

"Exactly. No English sovereign has ever been granted such absolute power," More says.

"Poor Catherine," Fisher laments, making the sign of the cross across his chest.

"It's worse. There are rumours that the king has married Anne in secret," More continues.

"No," Fisher exclaims in disbelief.

"And that she is already with child." Fisher is now extremely flabbergasted. Nothing could be worse.

Tower of London May 1533
Cromwell's office is in a disarray as papers are scattered across tables and several men are reading them over, studying them, and preparing for Anne's coronation.

The King enters abruptly. "Mr. Cromwell."

"Majesty." Cromwell as well as the pages and secretaries in the room all bow. All exit the room except Cromwell, giving the king his privacy.

"Your Majesty," Cromwell repeats.

"How are the preparations for the coronation?" the King questions.

"They're going well, Majesty," Cromwell answers, confused as to why the king was doubting his abilities.

"I want the people to love their new queen as I love her. And if I can love her, why shouldn't they?" the King questions. Cromwell now understands the purpose of the king's visit. He's nervous, more so than usual. He has put everything on the line for Anne.

"I assure you, Majesty, they will love her and shall have every reason to do so." The king tries to smile, but cannot, his nerves getting the better of him. He departs from Cromwell's office, leaving the man to his preparations.

The Streets of London June 1st 1533

It was the day of Anne's coronation and yet, dreariness filled the air. The court was in full swing, joyfully exchanging discourse, but the commoners of London were not cheerful whatsoever. A grand carriage carried Anne and the king through the city. They both wore newly made clothing, the finest of material covered in pearls and gold. A large procession of pages and courtiers proceeded as well as followed the carriage.

A page announced "Hear ye, hear ye make way for His Gracious Majesty, King Henry and the Lady Anne Boleyn, Marquis of Pembroke. Make way, make way." Anne waved as she passed by the commoners, but hey were few and far between. And none of them had a smile on their faces. The king noticed immediately but would not let his anger show. Today was Anne's day and he would not spoil it.

"Where are the crowds? Where are the people?" Lord Boleyn says to his son, concerned that there were no people for his daughter's coronation. He realized then that the people were for Katherine and not Anne.

Suffolk and Warwick rode not far behind Lord Boleyn and his son. Both were not looking forward to the coronation, Suffolk more so than Warwick. Warwick's elder sons also were riding in the procession. Richard was his namesake and heir, 30 years old and the father of two healthy sons, a third on the way. He was the perfect son, the diligent son, the humble son. John was the second son, 27 years old and the more quiet of the sons. He kept to himself but was more involved in politics then his brothers. He was strategic and sly. Christian Neville was the last son born before Grace, 25 years old and the most attractive of the sons with his boyish looks. Yet, he was not a womanizer, but loyal to his wife. She had just delivered their second daughter, Elizabeth. Grace remained at Ludlow with Mary while Warwick's youngest son, Arthur, a mere lad of 13 remained at Warwick Castle with his tutors. Warwick looked on with dread. He did not want his children to become involved in this new England, but they would have to in order to survive.

Westminster Abbey

Archbishop Cranmer, the new Archbishop of Canterbury, stands at the head of the church, preaching to the congregation filed with courtiers, clergymen, and others. Anne sits on a golden throne positioned to be the center of attention while the king sits on the side in his own throne, wanting the crowning to proceed quicker. He has a look of annoyance after what had taken place outside the abbey while Anne stares straight ahead, calm and collected. Her ladies stand behind her diligently. Mr. Cromwell stands behind the platform where the coronation is taking place, hidden behind columns and a gate that keeps him out of view and yet, he can see everything. Meanwhile, the members of the nobility sit at the front of the cathedral wearing their robes and crowns as a symbol of their position, their traditional garb for formal ceremonies. Suffolk has a blank look on his face while Warwick cannot bear to watch. Both of them stand directly next to Cranmer, Suffolk being the one to present the crown of St. Edward to Archbishop Cramner. Cranmer speaks in Latin, "Veni, creator spiritus mentus tuorum visita. Imple superna gratia quae tu creasti pectora. Tu septiformis munere, digitus paternae dexterae; tu rite promissum Patris, sermone ditans guttura. Accende lumen sensibus, infunde amorem cordibus, infirma nostril corporis, virtute firmans perpeti. (Come oh Holy Spirit and visit us. Implant in our hearts that which you have made, Your Grace. Through you alone we know the Father. Be this our constant belief that you proceed from him. Illuminate our senses, fill our hearts with love, diminish our bodily desires, strengthen our virtues always)."

An echoing "Amen" is heard throughout the abbey. Cranmer turns to receive the crown from Suffolk, but as he goes to crown Anne, Henry interrupts.

"Wait," Henry says with authority. Cromwell looks stunned for the moment, worried that the king was unhappy with his preparations or that the ceremony was about to go downhill. "Give it to me." Cranmer hands the crown to the King who then goes to stand at the front of the platform and in front of the entire crowd holding St. Edwards's crown in front of him. "With this, St. Edward's crown, I do solemnly crown you Queen of England." He turns around to face Anne, whose face does not show any sight of emotion, and places the crown on her head. He then sits back down in his throne while Cranmer finishes the ceremony.

Holding the orb and scepter of the sovereign, Cranmer approached Anne, placing the items in her hands. "And here are the two scepters of the sovereign. Honour and grace be to our Queen Anne. May you prosper, go forward and may you bear a new son of the king's blood." Anne was now queen. The fate of Katherine and Mary was uncertain.

Tower of London

The grand hall was filled with music and laughter as they celebrated the coronation of Anne. She was front and center, eating on a lifted platform decorated with drapes and other items. Courtiers and clergymen sat at the tables feasting, discussing the coronation among themselves. Meanwhile, the king was on the second level of the hall, watching the festivities below. Cromwell stood with him.

"I don't see Bishop Fisher here," Henry notes as he gazes at the people below.

"No, Your Majesty," Cromwell answered, looking nervous.

"And where is Sir Thomas More? I don't see him here either. Was he not invited?" Henry continues, starting to become irritated.

"He was most certainly invited, Your Majesty," Cromwell responds, fearing the king's anger.

"Then he chose not to attend." Henry remained quiet after this, wondering what could have kept the two men from the coronation.

Crosby Hall 7th June 1533
Sir Thomas More and Eustace Chapuys sat in his study, discussing the coronation that had occurred days before. More was pacing while Chapuys sat in front of More's desk. "How was the coronation?" More questioned. He had been writing letters to her niece, keeping her updated so she could inform Mary of what was happening. He had urged Grace to return home, but she would not leave the princess' side. She was the only loyal lady left, Lady Salisbury having been called to court for the coronation and not returning to Ludlow after.

"It was a cold, meagre and uncomfortable thing. And your absence was noted, Sir Thomas," Chapuys said, worried for the once Chancellor. He also feared for the Nevilles. Warwick and his sons had been there, but with More's absence they were all threatened.

"How is Her Majesty bearing up under all of this?" More in concerned for Katherine more than anything. He sits down and takes a sip of ale from his chalice.

"I am no longer allowed to see her," Chapuys relays. "And it is increasingly difficult for us to exchange letters. It is difficult for her to even communicate with her daughter. Thankfully, Grace has been able to help with communication as Mary has told me, but not for some time. She's constantly being watched as Mary is."

"I'm going to try and see her." More does not care he needs to see the queen.

"That would be so dangerous. Even to speak a word in her praise is to risk imprisonment." Chapuys is frightened for More, knowing that More's support for her is worn on his sleeve.

"Nevertheless." More takes another sip of air, before leaning back in his chair and talking a long breath. "You know, I have been thinking about the past when I believed the king to be the most enlightened and promising prince in Christendom. I was sure his reign would be a golden age. I had such high hopes." More reminisces, wishing all could return to that time. "Bishop Fisher has been placed under house arrest. You should beware yourself, Eustace."

"You also should, Thomas. I'm sure the king has duly noted your affinity for Fisher. You must beware for I fear his wrath may extend to you in his misguidance." Chapuys pauses for a moment, before broaching another subject. "You have spoken to Warwick Thomas, yes?" he questions.

"Yes, I have." Thomas is terse in his words. He had hoped not to bring the subject up with Richard, but Fisher was right. Grace had her duty, not just to her family, but to Mary. "Richard will speak to her when the time is right, after the birth of the king's child."

Chapuys nodded his head. "Thank you, Thomas. His holiness will repay you greatly if it so happens."

"I don't need repayment. If Grace must speak on the Queen's and Princess Mary's behalf she will do, even if she has to distract the king." More hated that he had just said those words, but this seemed like the last option available. Grace would do her duty, whether she wanted to or not.

Ludlow Castle 8th June 1533

Grace was in the entrance hallway of Ludlow, scrubbing the floor on her bare hands and knees. Servants had been dismissed, only a few remaining, but they slacked on their duties. Maintenance of the castle had to be kept up somehow and Grace would not let Mary do it, so she did. Many of the chores had to do with cleaning and though Grace's hands were raw from the work, she did not mind. Making the beds, washing the clothes, mending and sewing, sweeping the floors, washing the floors, cleaning the windows and the tapestries, the list was endless and yet Grace did not complain. All the while, she was careful not to let Mary catch her.

Suddenly, steps echoed throughout the hall and Grace looked up to see the Earl of Wiltshire, Thomas Boleyn, tracking dirt through the castle and onto her recently cleaned floors. He stared at her with distain before stopping in front of her.

"Where is Lady Mary?" Boleyn questioned, his tone filled with impatience.

Grace rose from her position off the floor, brushing off her knees before addressing the Earl. "Princess Mary is in her rooms," she spoke boldly, glaring at him defiantly. Before he could say a word, a maid entered the hall. He demanded her to take him to Mary and he disappeared from view, sending one last hard look at Grace.

Leading Boleyn into a receiving room, the maid went to retrieve Mary from her chambers. Returning with Mary, she left her mistress with Boleyn so they could speak privately. Not trusting Boleyn, Grace stood by the door listening, ready to enter if he distressed her lady in any way.

"Sir," Mary said as she bowed, more out of formality than respect.

"Lady Mary," Mary's eyes narrowed at Boleyn's words as he spoke, "I have come to inform you of the judgements made recently by His Grace, the Archbishop of Canterbury. His Majesty's marriage to your mother has been declared null and void. Your mother was never legally Queen of England and must now accept the title of Dowager Princess. Just as you no longer have the right to call yourself princess." He paused for a moment, watching Mary's sour expression with content. "From now on must be known to all as Lady Mary. At the same time his Majesty's recent marriage to Queen Anne has been declared legal and valid. Her coronation took place in London this past week."

"I know of no Queen of England save my mother," Mary responds, her voice unwavering. She would not cower in fear at his words. "And I will accept no other queen except my mother."

"In which case, I have to tell you that you are forbidden to communicate in any way with your mother from this day forward." Boleyn was quite harsh in his tone.

"May I not even write to her?" Mary questions. Her face is pleading. She could not bear to be without her mother.

"Not even a farewell note considering your intransigence," Boleyn says with enjoyment. He feels no pity for the once princess. "There is another thing. Your household is to be disbanded once the king's son is born and the Duke of Warwick's daughter is to be a lady to the new Queen as befits her station. She should not have to serve the bastard daughter of a king. Meanwhile you will serve the young prince."

"How dare you treat her with such disrespect!" Grace exclaims as she enters the room. She is fuming with anger. Mary was and always would be a Princess of England.

"And who are you to speak to me. I should have you flogged for your outburst," Boleyn asks, eyeing her.

"I am the Duke of Warwick's daughter," Grace spoke proudly.

Boleyn's demeanor immediately changed. "Lady Neville," he spoke, "you are to leave this household immediately. It is a great honor to be offered such a position"

"If my father has not ordered it, I will not go," Grace retorts back.

"If you were my daughter…" Boleyn grits threw his teeth.

"Well praise God I'm not. I will not leave Princess Mary until my father tells me to." Grace emphasized the word Princess, making Boleyn even angrier at such disrespect. He left abruptly, brushing past Grace and slamming the door behind him loudly.

"Grace," Mary muttered, shocked at such behavior.

"Do not let anyone treat you so, Mary. You are a Princess of England and deserve the respect your birth entitled you too. I will write to my father immediately." Mary nodded her head at her friend while sadness consumed her. Seeing the look on her face, Grace approaches Mary and grabs her hands. "I promise Mary, my father will help you." Though a tear falls down Mary's face, she shows a small smile of thanks to Grace. Her world was crashing around her, yet she knew the Duke of Warwick would not let her fade into nothingness.

Huntingdonshire July 1533

Queen Katherine was growing sicklier by the month. She sat in front of the fire of her decrepit manor, staring into the flames. Her once auburn hair was now dark brown and filled with white strands. Her shining blue eyes were now tired. Her body was exhausted. She hadn't even been able to change from her nightgown this morning, tucked into her chaise with many fur blankets though it was July. Her lady, Elizabeth, then enters the room, Thomas More and Grace behind her.

"Sir Thomas More and the Lady Grace Neville, my lady," Elizabeth announces.

Katherine looks up with surprise. "Sir Thomas. Lady Neville, I have not seen you since you were placed with Mary's household. How much you've grown and how much you look like my dear Elise."

"Majesty," both More and Grace reply, bowing in respect. More reaches out to take Katherine's outstretched hand and kisses it before the Queen gives them permission to sit.

"Forgive me for receiving you like this but I do not feel well," Katherine relays.

"What you suffer is known to a great many people, both here and abroad. As is the injustice of it, as well as the grace with which you endure it," More responds with sympathy for her majesty.

"Now it seems…I must cease to call myself queen even though I was crowned so and anointed." More looks uneasy at her words. He hopes the queen has not lost hope. "They say that if I refuse the king will withdraw his fatherly love for my daughter." More has a look of disappointment on his face while Grace's face shows disbelief. She could not imagine a life without her father's love. " I shall not yield neither for my daughter's sake or anyone else's. Not for a thousand deaths would I consent to damn my soul or that of my husband the king." Katherine's voice is now determined. She looks to More and Grace, remembering herself. "Please forgive me again, Sir Thomas and Lady Neville. I am not very used to visitors anymore." Both Grace and More smile at the queen's formalities. "They are mostly forbidden me. How did you get permission?" she questions.

"I wrote to Mr. Cromwell personally," More says. "I brought Grace along unbeknownst to the king and Cromwell."

"Then you are a brave man. And Grace…you are a very strong woman for bringing yourself here."

"I would be a coward to do otherwise. I cannot pretend to be detached from these events." More looks around to make sure Lady Elizabeth or others are not around. Leaning forward he whispers to the queen, "I've been encouraging your supporters in Parliament and elsewhere, to speak their minds and stand up for you." A hint of resolve is in his voice. He turns to Grace expectantly.

"Majesty," Grace says, pulling a letter from her cloak, "Princess Mary asked me to give this to you. She misses you dearly. I was forced to leave her a few weeks ago, against my will. I will do anything to return to her."

"Thank you. Sir Thomas and Lady Neville, thank you." The Queen begins to cry out of hope for with her supporters she knows the king cannot erase her from his mind or the minds of the people.

"Majesty." More goes to leave, Grace trailing behind him hesitantly. She only leaves once the queen sends her a soft smile.

Palace of Placentia, Greenwich, September 7th 1533

"What's this?" Henry questions as he and Cromwell are looking over documents in his study. Cromwell hands him a sealed scroll.

"The final decision of the curia in Rome," Cromwell responds hesitantly, watching the king for a reaction.

Henry breaks open the seal and unravels the document. His face studies the paper, turning sour when he sees the pope's decision. "They have found for Catherine. They declare my new marriage invalid and any children produced from it, illegitimate. The pope threatens to excommunicate me if I do not return to Katherine. He's too late," Henry declares, and he rips the document. That signals the end of the discussion and Cromwell says no more.

Meanwhile, in Anne's chambers chaos has arrived. She had gone into labor and several ladies hovered around her as she screamed in pain. "Hold on, hold on," her ladies say as they encourage her to be strong and bare the pain. One lady wipes her forehead with a cool cloth. Anne continues to pant and yell. "Here it comes," Mary, Anne's sister, mutters as she holds her sister's hand.

"It's here, Anne. It's here," Mary continues. Anne's legs are pulled up as she pushes and she screams as gives one last push. "Push, push," Mary and the other ladies encourage. The baby emerges from between Anne's legs and a midwife takes the infant to be cleaned. Anne looks anxiously at the babe. No one says anything.

"What is it? What's happened?" Anne questions worriedly.

"Nothing. Nothing," Mary continues, dreading that she has to tell her sister the news. "Your Majesty has given birth to a very healthy baby girl." Anne's face drops and she begins to sob. Her duty has not been fulfilled and she cries in horror. Mary kisses her sister's forehead comfortingly, but she knows it will do no good. Anne's position is not secure and the whole room knows it.

Warwick Castle 8th September 1533

"It's a girl," More says as he bursts into the family area of the Neville's fortress suddenly, the doors banging against the wall from the force of More's strength. The movement scares Grace and her sisters-in-law who had been knitting by the fire. Her father and brothers all turn their heads to More, their eyes wide. Richard nods towards the women and they all rise to leave the room, all except Grace. She keeps her ground and stays sitting. Richard does nothing. His daughter had the right to be there. After all, Mary's position was affected by this news.

'How did the king react," Richard questions his brother-in-law. More had been delivered the news by Chapuys himself who immediately departed from Greenwich after the announcement had been made.

More makes his way towards Richard, kissing his niece's forehead as he goes to sit next her. "Disappointed to say the least. Anne's position is in danger now. Everyone knows it. She said she would deliver a son, but instead she gives the king a daughter. Nothing is wrong with having a daughter unless you're the wife of a king."

"I'm guessing the king will invite us to the baptism of the child." Richard says. He pours a chalice of wine for More, handing it to his eldest son to give to his uncle.

"Yes, and I may have to attend as well to keep up with appearances. Her name is Elizabeth, after the king's mother," More reveals, taking a sip from the chalice.

"And she is completely healthy?" Grace asks.

More nods. "Perfectly, which makes the king more upset."

"It shouldn't matter if the child's a boy or girl. The king should be equally happy," Grace utters, a look of annoyance on her face.

"I agree Grace, but I'm not the king," More replies to his niece. "But, without a son the king looks weak and his thinks he has no heir to pass his kingdom to."

"I know that, but it seems silly. Look at Eleanor of Aquitaine or Isabella of Castile. They were both female rulers of their domain and two of the greatest as you have said uncle." Grace huffs in irritation as she stares at the ground. Men were so frustrating to her. Her father had taught her not to be ruled by her gender. She was just as smart, just as strong, just as capable as any other man.

"True, but some people don't agree with me," More says, lifting Grace's chin up so she would look him in the eye. "Why don't you leave me with your father and brothers? We need to discuss some matters in private."

Though Grace did not want to leave, she obeyed her uncle's orders. Kissing More and her father on their cheeks, she left the men to discuss their business, not realizing it revolved around her.

The Church of Franciscan Friars, Greenwich, 10 September 1533

The Abbey was filled with a plethora of courtiers as Elizabeth would be baptized and her title as Princess of England confirmed. Warwick and his children were all present for the baptism as the king expected their attendance. However, More was not present. He was making a stand against the king though not out of spite but because his conscience ruled him so.

The Duke and his family sat at the head of the Abbey, ready for the ceremony to begin. The Duke of Suffolk and his wife were next to them, watching the Boleyns with disgust. Lord Wiltshire and his son stood next to Archbishop Cranmer, awaiting the arrival of Princess Elizabeth who would be escorted into the abbey by Mary Boleyn, her aunt, as well as the ladies assigned to Elizabeth. The Marquess of Exeter, the Duchess of Norfolk and the Dowager Marchioness of Dorset, her godparents, would be at the front of the abbey while other courtiers that would be carrying a canopy above the princess.

Suddenly, the Lady Bryan entered the abbey, the newly made Lady Mary trailing behind her. She no longer looked like the princess she was. The dress was black and looked in dire need of mending. No one had cared for Mary since Anne was made queen and it showed. Grace spotted her friend immediately, rushing from her father's side to meet her friend. The two embraced and though Lady Bryan looked appalled, Grace did not care. She stood with her friend at the back of the abbey as the ceremony began, glaring at anyone who glanced their way. The Boleyns were furious at such a sight, the daughter of a duke with Plantagenet blood in her veins was standing with the newly delegitimized daughter of the king.

As the ceremony ended and the courtiers made their way to the queen's chambers, the Duke of Warwick stayed behind while he urged his sons to move on with the crowd. Now that the ceremony was over, Mary would be taken to Hatfield where she would serve Elizabeth, indicating her diminished status. However, the duke motioned for Lady Bryan to let the two friends speak for a moment. Hushed words were spoken between the two friends and a secret letter was given to Mary and she tucked it safely into the folds of her dress where no one would see. Their conversation over, the pair hugged each other one more time and Mary was taken by Lady Bryan to a carriage that would take her to Hatfield. It was shabby and was unnoticeable so that no English people would know it was the daughter of Katherine of Aragon.

Entering the carriage, Mary sent one last look at Grace who was trying not to cry at her friend's departure. Warwick came up behind his daughter and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I promise you will not be separated from her long," Richard promised his daughter. Grace laid her hand on her father's and squeezed it gently, hoping he was right. While Grace thought of her friend, Richard thought of what he must tell his daughter. It was evident that Grace would need to be pushed into the king's way. Sooner or later, her life would intertwine with Henry's and Anne's whether she liked it or not.

A/N: Please review!