Author's Notes – So we're finally getting somewhere with Henry and Anne's relationship. I think I'll have him propose to her in a couple chapters, after some more plot development. Also, parts of the dialogue in this chapter were taken from episode 1.05. Brandon may seem OOC from the way he was portrayed in the show, but I like to think that the real Brandon and Mary Tudor were really in love. After all, they did defy a king to be able to marry. I wrote a little one shot called Memories, which is a spin-off of this story where Mary saw Katherine after her death.
Mary Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk and former Queen of France, stared in awe at the tiny bundle the midwife had presented her with mere moments after her ladies helped her into clean clothing. The little baby boy – her baby boy! – stared up at her curiously, his murky blue eyes already beginning to darken. With gently, trembling fingers she traced her baby's face only to gasp in utter delight when a tiny hand grasped her finger and held on tight. The infant yawned widely, showing pink toothless gums as he held onto his mother's finger. "Look at him, Charles," she breathed, utterly enraptured by the baby boy in her arms. "Look how perfect he is!"
Having been ushered out of the room when his wife went into labor, Charles was almost scared to enter now that it was all over. The midwife had brought him the news of his son's birth and that both mother and son were fine, which was all he was really concerned about. Mary's hair was down about her shoulders, a few stray strands sticking to her forehead and as he observed his wife and newborn son for the first time, he found he'd never loved her more. When she glanced up from their son, their eyes met and Charles couldn't help the silly grin that came over his face. Slowly, so as not to startle the infant in his wife's arms, he made his way to the bed. Was this how Henry had felt when his sons were born, the young princes that hadn't survived and the one who had? He'd never been more scared in his life at the thought of fatherhood when Mary had announced her pregnancy.
Henry had congratulated him, making him promise to name the child after him if it was a boy, but he'd noted the look that had entered his friend's eyes. He knew all too well what Henry had been thinking, about how the last time Katherine had been pregnant she'd died giving him the son he'd so desperately wanted. The bed dips under his weight as he settles beside Mary to gaze down at the little boy in his wife's arms. He had a son, he marveled, still not quite able to believe his eyes. "What shall we call him?" Mary finally asks after a few moments of silence, the both of them watching their little boy.
"We shall call him Henry, for your brother, the king," he replied almost immediately. Even had Henry not-so-politely demanded it of him, he'd have named his son after the king without hesitation. The knowledge that both he and Mary were lucky to escape the headsman for marrying was still fresh, and he knew it would have satisfied the king to have his nephew named after him. Charles could never forget that he'd committed high treason to marry the woman he loved and part of him doubted that Henry would ever let the two of them forget it.
"Henry, of course," Mary agreed with a nod, smiling down at the now sleeping infant. "Welcome to the world, my little Harry."
Anne Boleyn stared in mute horror at her king, unable to conceive of what he was asking her. He couldn't be serious! She was not going to be like her sister, used and discarded before being married off to the first person her father could find to take her off his hands. Had she had her way, even now, she'd be married to Henry Percy and living a simple life away from the court. His official mistress indeed! "What have I done to make you treat me like this?" her voice comes out softer than she had intended, but the words have the desired effect. Henry stares at her, utterly silent as she continues. "Your majesty, I have already given my maidenhead into my husband's hands. And whoever he is, only he will have it. I'm all too aware of how it goes otherwise. My sister is called the great prostitute by everyone!" Her voice breaks at the mention of how everyone knows her sister and she averts her gaze from the king.
"I feel I must apologize for having offended you, then," Henry replies after a moment, struggling to control his temper. "I spoke only out of love for you." With that, he bows slightly to her before storming off to head back to Whitehall. She was infuriating, that one! He'd bestowed the tittle of Lord Rochford on her father, hoping to earn a place in her good graces and now she'd turned down the offer to be his mistress! With a scowl, he stalks over to his horse and launches himself into his saddle. With an impatient tug to the reins, he turns his horse around and spurs his mount towards Whitehall.
Thomas Tallis walks through the dark corridors beneath Whitehall leading to the servant's quarters where he was lodged. Lit torches flicker gently along the walls and he's almost startled as William Compton steps out from behind a pillar. "Say yes."
With a shake of his head, Thomas turns around and begins to walk away. A few short moments later, Compton once again steps in front of him.
"Say yes." He says again, staring at Thomas with something akin to longing in his eyes.
"No," he replies, shaking his head at the lord standing before him.
"Why?" Compton replies, stepping towards him. They are uncomfortably close now, and Thomas' heart beats loud and fast in his ears.
"Because I do not love you," Tallis replies, fighting the urge to step away from Will. "You are a lord, and what am I?"
The other man searches his face with dark eyes, unable to believe what he's hearing. "Beautiful," he finally replies, leaning in and kissing the other man, silently thrilled when Thomas does not pull away