A/N: As promised, here is the new chapter. Thank you to Otakugirl1996, princessElizabethtudor, tricorvus, gabbygrl247, Guest, Guest, Guest, QueenAnneTudor, OlicityxSkyeWard, Robin4, and Anne Boleyn for all of the kind reviews on the previous chapter, as well as an additional thanks to for the review on chapter 2, and I do hope you enjoy this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

WARNING: Character death!

...

Catherine Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk, frowned as her husband entered the room.

"So the Lady Anne has borne a son," she remarked coldly. "Two, in fact.

"Yes," Charles sighed heavily. "And the king sees it as proof that his marriage to Queen Katherine was indeed and unlawful union and now things have been put to rights."

"It's wrong,"Catherine declared stiffly. "Women give birth to sons ever day."

"Sons, not princes," Charles reminded her. "The king has waited a long time for a son, and now he has two at once."

Catherine shook her head. She just couldn't see how such a good and kind lady, whom her own mother had sailed to England from Spain with, like Queen Katherine had been unfortunately enough to lose every child save for her daughter, and now the king's mistress had gone and born the two sons at once.

"Perhaps she truly is not only a heretic, but a witch as well," she uttered darkly.

"Catherine!" Charles hissed. "For goodness sake, mind yourself! Do you have any idea what that snake Boleyn would give to hear that? He would make sure the whole court knew!"

"I care not what he thinks," Catherine replied, eyes alight with defiance.

You'll cares what the king thinks when he has us both hurled into the Tower for treason," her husband replied grimly.

Catherine froze. She knew Charles was right, if Boleyn or Norfolk, or any of Anne's allies were to hear such talk, they would not hesitate to inform the king, along with a few embellishments of course. Even Charles's lifelong friendship with the monarch would not be able to save them from Henry's wrath. And then poor young Edward, whom Catherine adored as though he were her own son, would be completely alone, the son of a traitor, and completely at the king's mercy.

The duchess did not want that, but she also didn't want to accept the fact that Anne Boleyn and her family had become untouchable. Of course, her position was only secure for as long as she had living sons by Henry, and there was no guarantee the boys would survive past infancy.

Catherine sighed and immediately felt guilt taking form within her heart. She would never hold any love for Anne, but she couldn't bring herself to wish death upon two innocent young children, even if the children in question had put an end to any hope of Princess Mary's restoration.

Charles's anger softened as he gently embraced her and kissed her forehead.

"Just take care," he whispered.

Catherine permitted a soft smile as Charles's hand ran through her long, dark hair and the other came to rest upon her stomach.

"I only want to keep you safe," he murmured, his eyes shifting downward to her stomach. "All of you."

...

Though he and Anne were no longer the staunch allies that they had once been, Cromwell knew that it was still a great triumph that the queen had managed to bear the king two princes, as it showed divine favor upon the marriage.

Though he also knew the insistence that Anne be acknowledged as queen and her children the king's legitimate heirs would hinder an Imperial alliance, which Cromwell himself favored. However he was also shrewd enough to realize that such an alliance would depend on the Lady Mary being restored to the succession, and of course the king would NEVER allow that. And Emperor Charles had made it plain that he would not forsake his aunt and younger cousin. So, it seemed that they were at a stalemate and would remain so until either King Henry or Emperor Charles yielded, but neither monarch was the least bit willing to do so. Bu that could change at anytime, and had before. Cromwell could only hope and pray that it would be sooner rather than later, and that it would side in his favor.

...

Katherine sighed heavily as she read Chapuys's latest letter; Anne had given Henry a, no two heirs.

The Spanish Ambassador wrote that he believed it to be further proof of the harlot's heresy and, he hinted, the twins themselves were likely the products of witchcraft.

But Katherine did not believe the latter half to be true. Nevertheless, it did little to quell her anguish over the other woman's victory or her sorrow that her beloved daughter was now condemned to be forever known as a bastard born from a cursed and incestuous union, though nothing could be further from the truth. She also couldn't control the grief over the memory of all of the children Katherine herself had lost.

And yet, a part of her still wished the infants well. They were of their mother's family, but they were also of Henry, who had once been the love of Katherine's life, even with all of his flaws. Besides, whether they were of Anne's blood as much as Henry's, the boys were not their mother, they were not guilty of her faults.

While she was still very much aggrieved at the turn of events, Katherin reminded herself that she must not lose heart. Surely her prayers would be answered, so she must remain faithful and strong, not only for her own sake but that of her daughter.

...

Dr. Linacre frowned as he examined the queen.

She herself had yet to awaken from the stupor she seemed to have fallen in, but her ladies had informed the doctor that she had earlier that day complained of pain, and her body had been warmer than usual. Though, from their testments, she had not been nearly as feverish as she was now.

His frown grew deeper as the queen groaned softlyand her breathing became more labored, though she did not show any signs of awakening. She didn't even stir.

As he took in the pallid and nearly waxy appearance of her normally swarthy complexion, Dr. Linacre began to fear that the queen may soon be beyond all but God's help alone. If she had not reached that point already.

...

"He's a sweet prince," Elizabeth declared as she peered down into the cradle of little Prince Henry, or Harry, as Elizabeth herself had said she wished to refer to him so as to differentiate him from her Papa. She then looked to the other cradle that held her other brother, Prince Geoffrey. "They both are."

"Indeed they are, my precious jewel," Henry agreed as he lifted the little princess into his arms. "And they shall grow into strong, able young men who shall always love ad protect their dearest sister."

"Like the knights in the old tales?" Elizabeth's eyes, so like her beautiful mother's, were lit with delight.

Henry chuckled softly and nodded.

"Yes, sweetheart. Two princes as chivalrous as knights to protect their lady princess."

"Then I shall have two Sir Loyal Hearts instead of one," the little girl chirped.

Henry's mood darkened slightly and he furrowed his brow, trying to appear more curious than angry.

"Lady Mary once told me a story about a queen who once had a knight that always loved her and even wore her favor whenever he jousted to show that that love would last forever," Elizabeth told him, smiling innocently as she recalled the sweet story her elder half-sister had told her. "Everyone knew him as the queen's Sir Loyal Heart. Someday, I want to love someone like that, like you and Mama."

This only succeeded in furthering Henry's rage against his elder daughter. How dare Mary try to manipulate her younger sister! She may have no love for Anne, but she had no right to involve Elizabeth. But then it wasn't Anne's fault or Elizabeth's that Katherine had refused to accept the invalidity of their union and convinced Mary that she was a trueborn princess.

Henry had hoped that by keeping the pair apart, he would be able to wean his daughter away from her vindictive mother's poison. But now it was clear that it was too late; the girl was just as obdurate as her mother. Damn that proud, Spanish blood of theirs!

"Papa, are you alright?" Elizabeth's soft voice suddenly pulled the seething king from his thoughts.

"Y-yes, of course," he answered quickly, fighting to keep his composure for the sake of the sweet, young princess. "Darling, Lady Bryan will be expecting you for your mid-afternoon map, it would be best not to keep her waiting."

Elizabeth frowned, but nodded reluctantly. She saw Lady Bryan every day whereas she rarely ever got to see her Papa.

"I will come later," Henry promised. "Then perhaps we shall see your Mama if she is well."

He watched the young princess curtsy and leave the room. Lady Bryan, who had stood quietly to the side, was about to follow her out when Henry himself moved to stop her.

"Where is the Lady Mary?" he asked in a voice that conveyed his anger without alarming his daughter.

"The Lady Mary is seeing to the mending of the Princess Elizabeth's clothing," Lady Bryan answered nervously, worried that the king might believe such a task was too demeaning for his daughter to carry out, even if said daughter was merely a bastard.

Henry allowed a soft smirk. At least his younger daughter's governess was attempting to teach his elder, more impudent daughter her place. But now he would have to make it abundantly clear that Mary would receive no clemency or any measure of affection until she submitted to her father's will.

"Good," he said. "I shall go and see her. It's high time we have a talk. Better now with her here."

With that, he dismissed the governess, who immediately curtsied in relief and took her leave. But before the king could make good on his decision, footsteps came hurrying through the corridor.

"Let me pass!" Henry recognized the voice as that of one of his grooms. "Let me pass!"

"What is the meaning of this?" the monarch demanded.

The groom bowed.

"It's the queen, Majesty," the groom reported, panting as he attempted to regain his breath.

Without a word, Henry hurried into the direction of Anne's chamber.

When he reached it, he was greeted by Dr. Linacre.

"I have done all that can, sire," the normally composed doctor seemed almost frantic, which further unnerved his sovereign. "But Her Majesty remains unresponsive. Her body had been terribly weakened and continues to become more so."

Henry hurried past the physician and into Anne's inner chamber, and his eyes immediately took in the sickly shade Anne's flesh now boasted. Her hair, now loose lay damp and scattered about the pillow beneath her head, and her sunken eyes closed.

Her chest rose and fell slowly as she breathed heavily as though it were a struggle for her. As he took in the appearance of his wife, Henry felt his heart sink.

"Child-bed fever," he murmured in a defeated voice. "I know as my mother died from it."

For a moment, no one said a word, but then Henry ordered softly, "Out."

"Your Majesty?"

"Henry glared at him, then at Anne's ladies.

"All of you, out," his voice was as cold as ice and firm as stone. "Leave."

The men bowed and the ladies curtsied before taking their leave.

When they were alone, Henry moved closer to Anne's bed. As he reached it, he fell to his knees beside it and clutched Anne's hand, now clammy and sweaty in his own gently but desperately. His fingertips glided over her knuckles lovingly as his other hand rested upon her hair, which he proceeded to stroke tenderly.

"Don't go," he whispered as tears stung his eyes. "Don't go, just because you have done all that you promised to do..."

It couldn't happen. Not to Anne. She had survived the the sweating sickness, surely she would survive this as well!

Anne's eyelids twitched, but still she showed no signs of waking.

Henry looked upward to the heavens.

"Please, God," he pleaded softly. "In Your mercy...don't take her away from me...my sons need their mother...and I need my queen..."

...

Mary said nothing as Elizabeth's sobs echoed from the other room and she set aside her needle and the silk stockings that she had been mending.

Anne, the woman who had seduced her father, was dead. Such news should have brought Mary joy, and indeed it did. Though the joy was sullied by a devastating piece of news that loyal Eustace Chapuys had brought to her.

She had received him earlier that day, luckily without the knowledge of her father or even the ever watchful Lady Bryan, only to find that he had been dressed as though in mourning.

There had been a clear meaning; her beloved mother, who had fought so courageously, was dead.

From what Chapuys had been able to tell her before he was forced to leave, lest he be discovered, her mother had passed mere days after her half-brothers' christening. The queen had been very ill, and the shock of her rival's success had only worsened her condition.

Though the ambassador had also confided to her that he had heard her mother was examined after her death and her heart was found to be blackened, a sure sign of poisoning. And there was no doubt in Mary's mind that it had been Anne or one of her relations that had ordered it.

And now, the king's whore was dead too. Dead and unable to reap the benefits of her stolen rank.

The only bitter part of the matter for Mary was that Katherine had died first. That and the the fact that Anne had given Henry his long-awaited sons, sons that he would not allow anyone to slander or acknowledge their true statuses bastards. No, Henry would settle for nothing less than completely legitimacy for his sons. This also meant that Anne would, as his 'true wife', be buried with all of the honors that belonged to a queen by rights, rights that she had robbed Mary's poor mother of.

Meanwhile, Katherine had been hastily buried days before, her gravestone bearing the title 'Dowager Princess of Wales', the title she had resisted in life, with Mary, her only surviving child, unable to attend the funeral. Unable even to say goodbye.

Mary had discarded her more colorful gowns, what few she had left, in favor of black to demonstrate to all that she grieved for her mother's passing. Now she would be expected to mourn Anne's as well.

But she would not. She could not openly celebrate for fear of increasing her father's anger.

...

Charles didn't know how to respond when he heard the news.

Anne had died. Her sons remained healthy, but she had developed child-bed fever and died within days.

He felt no sympathy for Anne, who had outlived Queen Katherine, to whom she had brought so much pain and misery, as well as Princess Mary. But he did feel some measure of pity for the the infant twin princes, and especially for Henry, who had seemed to have fallen in love with Anne all over again, their marital troubles as of late all seemingly forgotten. Instead of seeing her as the one who had encouraged his cruelty, and blaming her for the death of his old friend and former chancellor, Thomas More, the king would now remember her as the wife who had given her life for their dear sons. Her memory would remain precious and all but flawless in his mind.

...

...

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you all enjoyed it and the next brand new chapter will be out on Monday, November 19th. Until then, everyone.