Huzzah! My crippling bout of Writers Block is finally cured! Whoo! You have absolutely no idea what I had to went through. It was a very dark stage of my life. BUT...I eventually had enough and was able to pull through it, just for you guys! Whoo!
I could think of no better way to celebrate my epic triumph than with a brand new chapter! Ta-da! What are you waiting for? Go ahead, start reading!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Tudors, or Joan and Scathach(you'll find out later). Well, I do own Christine in this chapter, but that's about it :P
December 1531
Humanist Thomas Moore and his appointed escort, Jean du Lys, left Windsor Castle behind in the early morning after Christmas day. Since then, they have ridden approximately 300 miles across the English terrain. Traveling through a forest path, they allowed their mounts to go easy, yet remained extremely cautious. Bandits roamed everywhere and are notorious for their sly and cunning conducts. While Joan possessed her sword, she doubted her ability to stop an entire squad of those ruthless criminals.
So there they were, the Englishman and the Frenchman, riding side by side in mutual silence.
That was abruptly shattered when Joan spoke, "How well do you think you will fare in Germany,Moore?"
"Honestly, I have never been to that place," replied Moore who was evidently grateful for some conversation. "All I really need to know, is that it was the birthplace of Protestantism, conjured up by that mad monk, Martin Luther." His tone rang with deep contempt.
Joan only laughed lightly and shook her head. That earned her a peculiar glare from the older man.
She then answered his silent question, "You see, Moore, I secretly find all of this conflict over religion to be quite petty, and superficial."
Naturally, Moore assumed a scandalized expression. "Good Christ, are my ears deceiving me? What ever do you mean by, 'petty and superficial'? It's our common duty to defend the one true faith, which is Catholicism!"
Moore was taken aback upon hearing himself. He was usually very calm and cool when debating over such matters. So, of course, he was surprised by his new-found aggression.
"I just don't see how Protestantism is so bad," Joan attempted to explain, "when in truth, it's only another form of Christianity. The goal remains the same, which is to gain salvation and enter Paradise with our Lord."
"Yes, so it is. However, in contrast to our practices, their methods of worship are absolutely heretical and absurd! One must be loyal to his Holiness the Pope, heed to the wise religious governance of the Church, and obey the Bible in order to receive God's grace. Protestants intentionally violates all of those principles, so therefore, they are straying from God's righteous path!" Moore then smiled smugly at his fine point of argument.
Alas, his moment of triumph ended as Joan countered,"Who says that the Protestants don't cherish the Bible? Also, I am certain that they still have allegiance to the Church, but repudiates the Pope as the supreme ruler of all Christians on earth. For are not all of God's children created equal? From what I know, Protestantism's main difference is that its followers favor a more personal approach of earning salvation. If they always have faith, try to live a good life with little sins as possible, then salvation will be theirs. Devoted Protestants believe that the fate of their souls lies primarily with God's own judgement, and that no worldly clerical power could change it."
Moore admired the young Frenchman's apparent poetic gift for intellectual debate, yet he was also shocked by his baffling assertions.
"I apologize, Monsieur," he said with a hint of suspicion, "but I am beginning to question your loyalty to Rome and our cause."
Joan quickly concluded that she couldn't really blame Moore for having doubts.
"Well, you shouldn't. I'm just more observant and open-minded than you might think." She gave him a knowing smirk. "Really, though, I can assure you that my loyalty is firm and true. For me personally, simply loving God is enough. That is why I chose-a long time ago-to devote my heart and soul to the defense and preservation of our Christian faith. Both Catholicism and Protestantism, mind you."
After momentarily scanning her up and down, Moore saw that she was, in fact, sincere her words. He then opened his mouth to speak but instead, ended up exclaiming, "Great mercy of God...!"
Instantly whipping her head around, Joan then saw clearly the source of his alarm. Ahead in their path, lied five dead, mutilated bodies. Moore proceeded to cross himself, while Joan swiftly unsheathed her sword.
"Don't make any noise,"whispered Joan, her eyes frantically searching their surroundings.
Moore nodded and then the both of them continued with great vigilance. As they slowly went past, Joan took notice of some particular details. Upon closer inspection, Joan saw that some of the dead men were still holding on to swords and weapons. Slash marks and bloody wounds seemed to have been expertly inflicted. She then realized that some violent engagement must have taken place there. Whether the men were killed by man or beast, was hard to tell.
Those strikes...they're so precise and lethal! How is it that they are so familiar to me somehow?
Suddenly, they were startled by a rustling of leaves;Moore even allowed a strangled cry to escape his lips. Then appearing before them was a lone figure draped in a cloak, their face partly hidden within a hood. Seeing that the mysterious stranger was armed, Joan maneuvered over to stand defensively in front of Moore. Meanwhile, Moore couldn't help but cower behind the Frenchman, vigorously praying under his breath.
"Halt! Who goes there?" Joan yelled with command.
She was prepared to fight to the death in order to protect Moore, in spite of how foolish it sounded when she possess immortality. So with narrowed eyes fixed on the stranger, Joan brandished her majestic blade as a warning. Her body stiffened when the person moved forward.
"Jeanne?"
All sense of hostility instantly uplifted upon the utterance of her own name. At that point, Joan knew that was safe to put away her weapon, though her heart was still beating incessantly.
"Yes, it's me", Joan replied before asking, "Is that you, Scathach?"
The figure's hands went upward and proceeded to remove the hood. Both Joan's and Moore's eyes grew excessively wide at what they saw emerged from it. The person before them turned out to be a young girl, possessing thick flame red hair, and emerald green eyes. She also had an abnormally pale complexion.
Much to Moore's horror, Joan automatically leapt off her horse and ran over to the stranger, who did likewise. The two of them met in the middle and embraced each other. It then struck Moore that they knew each other and he puffed a sigh of relief.
"Scathach, you came just in time!"Exclaimed Joan in a joyous tone. "Thank you for doing this."
The woman, Scathach, gently squeezed her friend's shoulder. "Ah, don't mention it! You're a good friend so I must return the favor. Also, did you happen to see any...?"
"Any what?"
"Dead bodies."
Joan knew immediately what she meant. "Oh, yes we have!" She then raised an eyebrow and asked, "Did you had anything to do with them, Scathach?"
"Of course I did,"replied the red-haired girl."I discovered those men hiding and lurking around in the forest. I believe that they were waiting to ambush you."
Cromwell, that scheming devil! Though Joan ruefully.
Then smiling, she happily said, "Well thank you, Scathach. I'm glad you were able to take care of those pests for us. So, now would be a good time for you to meet Moore."
Turning around, she then gestured for Moore to come over. Once he did, Joan began with the introductions.
"Scathach, this is Sir Thomas Moore. Moore, this is my good friend and ally, Scathach."
Scathach then held out her hand in a friendly way. She could tell that the older man was entranced by her exotic looks, from the way he stared at her in awe. His hand was trembling as he was quite conflicted about shaking the strange woman's hand.
"Greetings, Thomas Moore, it's an honor to meet you. Come on, now, I won't bite,"she encouraged gently.
Moore eventually overcame his shyness and willingly shook her hand. "It's a pleasure on my part to make your acquaintance. Though, I would like to know why you have come here to England."
"I am entrusting you to Scathach, so that she may bring you to Rome," explained Joan,"I have sent word to the Pope and he approves of this."
Moore gave her look of disbelief and stammered, "To Rome? B-But the king specifically ordered that I am to go to Germany."
"Since when did you actually want to go to Germany?"
"That's a very good point, Monsieur. Touche." He nodded slowly with satisfaction.
They then went to mount their horses before regrouping. Joan spoke to Moore first.
"There's no need for you fear anything while in my friend's company. She is a superb warrior, and will keep you safe throughout your journey."
"I shall take your word for it. So help me, God."
Finally, Joan looked toward Scathach and said,"Scathach, my friend, I will always have faith in you. Just keep doing what you do best."
A single wink was the red-haired girl's response. Joan smiled widely, knowing in her heart that Scathach will not fail. She never does, anyway.
So with that final exchange, the three of them embarked on their separate ways.
Shortly after celebrating Christmas, Henry and Anne set sail on a journey to France. Henry was very excited to introduce Anne as his wife-to-be before King Francis I, and his entire court. They were welcomed warmly with much fanfare and ceremonies. Anne was particularly elated to be back in her adopted country. She was able to recall the many happy memories she had while studying in France with her sister. With all its glamour, intrigue, and prestige...she found the French court to be quite thrilling.
King Francis threw an extravagant banquet to honor his royal English guests. Well that, and to take the opportunity to show off his immense wealth. Much to Henry's delight, Anne insisted on taking part in the night's dance performance. The entire French nobility attentively watched the masked dancers in white costumes. They easily captivated the audience with their agile movements and stunning beauty. The two monarchs smiled approvingly upon the entertainment.
Henry, especially, found it even more pleasurable that his fiance was dancing with them. Of all the other dancers, Anne was the one who captured his eye.
Yet however, there was one person at the banquet who wasn't quite enjoying himself. As the bride's brother, George was invited to come along to France. Instead of watching the performance that night, George found himself to be highly distracted. All that he could think about was Mary.
The last time he saw her was at the Christmas feast. He still remembered seeing her flee from the room after Anne announced her pregnancy. A sudden shock of guilt struck his heart, and he shook his head mournfully. He could have helped her...he wanted to comfort her, to hold her delicate body in his arms and wipe away her tears.
He didn't.
At least George was able to give her the Christmas present he got. What she thought about it, he did not know; it wasn't exactly a personal exchange. He then took a long sip of wine to soothe his nerves. The guilt slowly abated, only to be replaced by an indescribable sense of infatuation. George allowed himself to smile fondly at how beautiful Mary was that night. She looked like a heavenly vision with those sparkling blue eyes and smooth auburn hair. Oh, yes, and her lips...they were so perfectly shaped and pleasantly pink.
Could what I'm feeling qualify as love? While I do find her charming and lovely...I just can't seem to understand it. Besides, the girl has proven herself to be unapproachable behind her walls. To her, I am only that 'wicked whore's brother', who is worthy of nothing but her scorn and contempt.
Henry soon took notice of his far-off state. Concerned, he attempted to rouse George by shaking his shoulder. George immediately came out of his thoughts and looked at Henry.
"Are you feeling alright, George?" Henry's eyes scanned his face warily.
George replied, "Um yes, I feel just fine, Your Majesty! I just had something on my mind, that's all."
Henry frowned with displeasure at his response. "Well, I command you to forget about your thoughts and to enjoy the celebrations."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Then King Francis stuck his head in and suggested, "You look quite tense, Monsieur George. Say, I could arrange for a good wench to entertain you tonight. What do you say to that?"
He found the idea absolutely repulsive, but was unwilling to offend a powerful monarch such as him. So he courteously nodded his consent.
"Excellent!"Exclaimed a joyous Francis.
The three of them resumed to watch the performance until the end. As the dancers finished, applause erupted from every table. Francis then turned and congratulated Henry for his engagement. Meanwhile, George was silently dreading his appointment with a French prostitute.
Francis bid a servant to his side, before whispering something into his ear. With a curt nod and short bow, the servant took his leave afterward. He soon came back with one of the white clad dancers. The woman possessed golden blonde locks and wicked green eyes, which shone right through the holes of her mask. The tight dress she wore helped to bring out her curves.
George had to admit that she was very attractive for a French woman.
With a quick flip of his hand, Francis silently dismissed the servant. He even tossed him a single coin which he eagerly caught.
Gripping onto his shoulders, King Francis asked him, "This, Viscount Rochford, is Christine de Chinon, the daughter of a Count. So what do you think of her?"
George immediately found himself tongue-tied. "I um...well she seems..she uh-"
He was broken off by Francis's hearty laughter. "Ah, I see you are speechless at the sheer beauty of French women, no? Trust me, Christine here shall make your visit to our country...memorable." Then without warning, he roughly shoved George forward.
"Well, aren't you a good-looking catch?"Christine's voice was seductively melodious. She took hold of his ice-cold hand, giggling at his paralyzed expression. " Don't be shy now, Monsieur, as I have plenty of experience. Now let us go to somewhere private."
Part of George was willing to succumb to her seduction, to lay his raging emotions to rest with carnal pleasure. The other part was still strictly hung up on Mary. Either way, he had no power to fight as he was being dragged away by Christine.
Back in England, the royal court was beginning to settle into Hampton Court Palace. It was Mary's beloved childhood home, which she held dear in her heart. She was afraid that she would never see it again after her father so casually sent her away. While festivities were taking place in France, Mary was currently engaged in her nightly routines.
After saying her prayers for the night, Mary decided to read in her Bible. After a while, though, she began to yawn as her eyelids became heavier. So she put her Bible away before pulling the blanket up to her chin. Resting her weary head on the soft pillow, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. It never did. Flicking her eyes open , Mary found herself being unable to fall asleep that night.
The reason: George Boleyn. He occupied her mind as she laid there in her bed, not moving an inch. She thought of George as an enigma that was difficult to figure out. In spite of him being the whore's brother, he had been nothing but kind and generous towards her. The precious bracelet he gave her for Christmas was proof of that. Briefly shutting her eyes, a frustrated sigh escaped her lips.
No, he is supposed to be my enemy!
Mary then realized that she was stuck in a complicated case of paradox. George is a Boleyn, therefore she must hate him; yet, she found that to be nearly impossible. Even worse, was the fact that she found him be...actually very handsome. Tall and muscular with deep blue eyes, he was the stud of every woman's dream. Whenever Mary saw him, she could feel her cheeks grow warm and her heart race wildly in her body. At first, she had dismissed them as simply symptoms of a fever or the flu. Now, she wasn't so sure.
God, why am I feeling this way? George is the brother of my rival, but I can't help but feel something for him. Could it really be love? No, no, that can't be possible! Perhaps this was all a mistake...maybe it was just some kind of twisted, deceiving game meant to instill false hope in me.
Mary then turned toward the left to lay on her side. Spread out neatly on her wooden desk was the document that could change her life forever. She stared at it intensely, feeling as though it was mocking her somehow. Mary knew at that point that she needed to make a choice soon. Either she succumbs to the prospect of being George's wife, with all its guaranteed privileges...or remain a bastard and be subjected to the mercy of Anne's ruthless family.
Upon returning to England, Henry was informed right away about Mary's final decision. Chapuys came to him with the signed document, saying that Mary has agreed to marry George Boleyn. It wasn't very long after that until Anne's family caught wind of the news. Wiltshire and Norfolk were very pleased by the apparent capitulation of the willful Spanish princess. They were happier still, when the king announced that George is to be promoted and given the title, Marquise of Ormond.
Mary is still of prominent royal blood; therefore, Henry felt it necessary to uplift George's status in order to be complementary to hers.
With events now passing in their favor, Wiltshire then gathered all his children for a family meeting. His daughters, Mary(who once was Henry's mistress before being tossed aside), and Anne along with his only son, George, obediently sat with open ears as their father paced around in front of them. Norfolk was ever-presently sitting nearby partaking in some wine.
"As you all know, there have been positive things happening for our family, " spoke Wiltshire to his children. "It's clear that the tides of fortune favors us."
All three of them nodded approvingly.
Wiltshire then ceased his pacing and turned to face them. "Anne, you will marry the King and become England's next Queen. As for George, you are to soon wed the king's Spanish daughter. If she somehow does end up becoming Queen, you will be her King. Either way, the ascension of a Boleyn to the English throne is secured! How I cannot be any more proud of you!"
Anne and George looked at each other with warm smiles. Mary, however, was feeling a bit envious of the praises her siblings received.
Ever since Henry had callously discarded her, Mary's reputation was left permanently stained. She was spiteful about Anne being courted by the king, but had to cope with it because it was for the good of their family. At least she was eventually able to find true love with William Carey, a simple but pious man.
Wiltshire continued on with, "In addition to all of this, is the fact that a Prince of Whales is growing in Anne's womb as we speak!"
"I will not fail!" Proclaimed Anne, placing a hand affectionately over her slightly bloated stomach. "I just know that it will be a healthy boy! After all, my fertility does greatly surpass that of His Majesty's first wife! Producing a living heir shouldn't be a problem for me."
To their astonishment, Wiltshire's joyous expression immediately became grave. With brows furrowed, he said seriously, "That brings me to my next topic. I have been thinking lately and it crossed my mind that we need to take precautions...in case things go awry."
"What king of precautions, father?"Asked George curiously.
His father answered with, "Mary, the King's daughter; I feel like it won't be favorable for us to continue negatively alieanting her ." He saw Anne's eyes darkened, but thought nothing of it. "So from here on, I bid you all to be courteous and friendly towards her. We have everything to loose at this point, and it would benefit us greatly to have her as an ally if things get out of hand."
Outraged, Anne sprang up to her feet and confronted him. "Why must I be kind to that ba-the king's daughter-when she is a constant threat to me?! No matter what, she will always be against us!"
"Watch your words now, Anne," warned Norfolk walking up to stand beside his brother-in-law. "You see, this is exactly the kind of antagonizing that will get us into trouble! Your father is right. If we are to succeed, we'll need to gain Mary's favor, however slight it might be."
"I can't believe that you are in doubt of me!" Anne accused them, her temper flaring wildly and causing fire to leap from her eyes. "Mary is nothing to me, for God has blessed me with a son in my womb! The king loves me adoringly and will continue to do so, once I present him with a Prince of Whales! Let's not forget that I am beautiful, healthy, charming, and-"
"That's enough from you, now silence!" Demanded Wiltshire as his own patience depleted. Norfolk cautiously moved away from his fuming brother.
Unnerved by her father's furious outburst, Anne decided against carrying on the argument. She closed her mouth and calmly sat back down, with arms folded across her chest. George and Mary also appeared to be shaken by his forcefulness.
Red-faced with aggravation, Wiltshire continued to speak harshly.
"I am getting sick of your hubris tantrums, Anne! You are too proud for your own good, which could spell doom for our entire family! All that I'm asking of you is to be tolerant towards Mary, but do you listen?! No, because you just had to complicate matters further by disputing with me! It's about time for you to open your eyes, Anne! For even you can't overcome the dangers of childbirth. So it's only necessary that we try getting on good terms with Mary. Our future depends on it! If we keep conflicting with her and she manages to become Queen, what is to happen to us? We'll be incarcerated to the tower and sentenced to death! To prevent that from happening, you all must show her that you are capable of being amiable. Is that clear?"
"Yes father," responded Mary and George. Anne remained silent in her defiance.
Wiltshire approached Anne and leaned menacingly over her. "Well, Anne, did I make myself clear?"
"Yes father", she mumbled begrudgingly.
Having regained his composure, Wiltshire nodded with satisfaction. He then turned away and went to pour himself a cup of wine.
"Good. You are dismissed now."
Anne quickly stood up and stormed out of the room, followed by Mary. George was about to exit when his father stopped him.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, he said, "George, I need you to keep an eye on Anne. Make sure she doesn't do anything rash, alright?"
"I shall try my best, father."
A grateful smile broke across Wiltshire's face and he released his son. Suddenly overcame with fatigue, he couldn't help but sank wearily into his chair. He hoped that some wine will be able to soothe his nerves.
"That hotheaded daughter of yours really concerns me", remarked Norfolk sipping some of his wine. "It's crucial that you tighten the reigns before she breaks loose and ruin everything."
Wiltshire only laughed weakly and replied, "I'm afraid that will be easier said than done. The power has already gone to her head before she even crowned!"
Moving hastily through the hallways, Anne continued to fume with resentment toward her father
Ugh! Can't my father see that what he ask is absolutely impossible? He acted like it will be so easy for me to befriend Mary just like that! Ha! Well, it's not, as her and I are sworn enemies and that will never change! Only one of us will emerge victorious from this battle and by God's will, it shall be me! The babe that grows in my womb is a divine verification of my right as England's Queen. Mary, like her equally inferior mother, will remain empty and barren!
Empowered by her thoughts, Anne's mood changed dramatically for the better.
After dinner that night, George Boleyn decided to retire early to his personal chambers. He whistled a lively tune as he walked along the broad corridors. Ancient paintings of the glorious kings of old occupied the walls. The spirits of those long-deceased rulers seemed to linger upon their respective images.
George could remember how fearful he used to be of those grim-faced men as a small child. He speculated that their eyes could actually follow him. Now, there was nothing left for him to do except laugh musingly at his childish superstitions. He was especially proud of his ability to frighten his sisters senseless with tales of vengeful ghosts when they were children.
Ah, yes he was very capable of such cruelty when he was young, but it was all in good fun.
By accident, George then came upon Mary's room and he froze. He knew very well that she was an extremely private person, and he respected that. Still, though, he was inwardly very curious and longed to know more about her. The door was the only obstacle standing between him and Mary's separate 'world'.
Perhaps I should check on her to see if she is well. She is my betrothed, after all.
It took George a while to finally gain the nerves to approach the door. He raised his hand and was about to knock, when he heard a familiar voice.
"Viscount Rochford? What are you doing here?"
George stopped midway and turned his body to come face-to-face with Mary herself. Her head was tilted in a look of inquiry.
"Your Highness,"greeted George as he bowed dutifully. "I was expecting you to be in your chamber. Do not be alarmed, for I meant you no harm," he added sensing her distrust of him.
"Hmm, very well then," she said evenly. "If that's not the case, then what are you really doing here?"
"Can't a groom visit his bride without extensive interrogation?" Replied George cheekily, in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.
Mary didn't seem to find it amusing, however.
George had to cough in order to clear nervous lump in his throat. "Seriously, though, I just wanted to see how you are faring. I've been worried about you since that Christmas incident."
Mary was astonished by what she heard, but also touched. H-He was worried about me? How sweet.
On the outside, she retained an impassive expression. "I appreciate your concern, Viscount Rochford. Now would you please step away so that I may enter my room?"
In truth, she was eager to get away from him, lest her raving emotions become too much to handle. His mere presence alone was intoxicating.
"Of course, Your Highness." George respectfully backed away as requested. "May you sleep peacefully tonight."
Mary flashed him a gracious smile as she reached for the door handle.
There was nagging sensation from within George's heart that he was unable to shake off. Eventually, it became too powerful and he was forced to give in to its demand. He had to do something before it was too late.
"Wait!"
Mary looked up at him and asked, "What is it?"
George took in a deep breathe before he spoke. "I have a confession to make. This might sound ridiculous, but I please just listen to what I have to say. During these past few weeks, I have grown restless trying to solve a mystery of my heart. Whenever I'm around you, my heart becomes airy with joy. I often find myself day dreaming about you and the fair image of your face follows me. All that I could focus on are those luminous blue eyes and err...your smooth lips. I can honestly say that I have never once felt this way about anyone. It's completely new and strange; no matter how hard I tried, I just can't seem to explain it. But that has changed, for now that I'm looking at you, I finally realize what my answer is."
Mary could only stand there helplessly frozen, and watched as George took another step forward.
"I love you, Princess Mary Tudor," he said in the most sincere tone. "It's very clear to me now that ever since I first met you, I have been deeply smitten by you. I honestly find it a mystery how my sister could possibly hate such a nice and charming young girl as yourself. I know that this is a lot of information to absorb, but my emotions cannot be contained any longer. However, if you do not feel the same way, I can understand that. You might hate me because of my family, which I cannot blame you for doing so. I won't force you to love me. Just keep in mind I do feel guilty for what my family have done to you and your mother. So if you prefer to live in the country after we are married, that can be arranged. That way, you won't have to see too much of me and will be left to your own devices."
"I-I love you, too,"she admitted at once while looking away. "But why desire me? I'm only the king's worthless bastard daughter."
George just grinned in amusement, while his eyes glinted with genuine empathy.
Ah, what a shame it is! She's charmingly beautiful...but she doesn't know it. It's up to me to show her, then.
Instantly closing the distance between them, George took one of her hand in his. Mary felt her skin give off sparks at the sudden contact. He then gently lifted her chin so that their eyes could meet.
"Because, my dear princess, you are perfect just the way you are. Bastard or not."
Mary was paralyzed under his tender gaze, which seemed to penetrate her soul. Never in her life did she felt so vulnerable, so conflicted. She hardly heard a word he said due to the deafening pounding of her heart, but her body felt tingly anyway. Her gaze consciously travelled down to where held her hand, then returned to his clear blue eyes. They were calling her, beckoning her with their strangely mystical charisma.
As much as she wanted to, Mary didn't fully trust herself to fall for him just yet. Their physical closeness made her feel a bit dizzy. As soon as her legs were able to function again, Mary attempted to pull away but George held firmly onto her hand.
No, I can't afford to let her go so easily. This is the moment I've been waiting for all along.
Now that he had her attention, George was determined to make that moment count. In one swift motion, he brought her into his arms and boldly pressed his lips against hers. Being caught off guard, Mary's eyes glossed over with shock. It only lasted for a second before her once suppressed feelings of adoration began to surface. No longer able to resist it anymore, she allowed herself to melt into the heartwarming kiss.
George felt great pleasure as he savored the sweet taste of her lips. He had always wondered if they felt as soft as they looked. His fingers glided through her silky smooth hair, which emitted a pleasant scent. He then deepened the kiss, releasing all of his inner passion. Mary gladly returned the favor and proceeded to delicately cup his face with her hands.
So that's how they were, eagerly pursuing each other's love without a care in a world. Sparks flew and the flames of desire flared; all carnal lust were absent, however. It was a truly beautiful blossoming of young, chaste love between the two of them.
A few minutes were taken up before they finally pulled apart for air. Panting breathlessly, they gazed lovingly upon each other. Mary's cheeks were thoroughly flushed and her lips continued to tingle. Both of their hearts were thumping forcefully with amore. George smiled tenderly at his beloved bride, as he gently caress her cheek.
"Ahem!"
Their hearts leapt within their bodies upon hearing that sound. Startled, George and Mary immediately scrambled to separate themselves. The latter was blushing deeply. It was no use, for with great alarm, they realized that they have been caught...by Jean du Lys!
The young Frenchman seemed to bore an expression of curious amusement. "Oh my bad, Your Highness. I didn't realize you had um...company. I have important news to share with you, but they can wait if you're busy right now."
Joan then promptly turned on her feet, intending to walk away. Well that was an unexpected sight. Then again, I've been suspecting it for some time now. I knew it was only a matter of time before Mary will come to terms with George.
Mary prevented that by clarifying, " No, that will not be necessary, Monsieur! Viscount Rochford kindly accompanied me to my chambers, and was just leaving. Isn't that right, my Lord?" She turned toward George with a silent signal.
"Yes, that is correct!" Said George in a vain attempt to play along. "I was merely looking after Her Highness's welfare for as you might know, we are officially betrothed."
Joan, however, remained mostly incredulous. She did inwardly enjoy their desperate charade.
"Ah yes, I am aware of that. I must say that what you did was really chilvalrous." Changing the subject, she then asked, "If you don't mind my asking, have you been practicing your swordplay lately?"
George suddenly felt sore at the memory brought back by her question.
He tried to mask his insecurity with a shaky laugh. "I honestly would like to stay and continue on with small talk. However, I just remembered that my father needed to see me...at this instance." Then bowing, he told them, " Goodnight, Your Highness...and you, Ambassador."
Raising himself up, George cast Mary a final complimentary glance before hastily taking his leave of them. Mary watched as he faded down the corridor before disappearing around a corner.
Biting her lip, she then turned to look at the straight-faced Du Lys. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, setting her face afire. So she remained speechless while feeling as if she was about to die from mortification.
Lord, why must everything be so awkward for me...?
Sensing her distress, Joan comfortingly placed a hand on her shoulder. "My, aren't you as red as a tomato? There's really no need for you to be so um stressed towards me, Your Highness. Although, I am deeply sorry for disturbing your...moment."
Mary rolled her eyes at her friend's teasing apology. "Just promise me that you won't mention this to anyone, not a single soul!"
"You have my honest word, Princess." She even crossed her heart for emphasis. "Now, there is the important news I came to tell you about. Shall we?"
No longer burning with anxiety, Mary nodded in agreement and reached to open the door. She entered the room first, followed immediately by Joan who closed the door from behind.
Both of them were surprised to find Chapuys already waiting for them. The middle-aged Spaniard looked up from his book upon hearing their entrance.
"Greetings, Your Majesty, may I say that it's about time you came," he said dismissively and closed his book. "You look tired, perhaps you should sit down."
Mary gave him a small smile and did as advised, as well as Joan. Chapuys then poured wine into three goblets to distribute among themselves.
"I didn't mean to keep you waiting, Chapuys," replied Mary apologetically. "I had to stop to speak with an old friend and must have lost track of time."
Next to her, Joan snickered into her own cup. Mary retorted by roughly elbowing her abdomen. Though vexed by the princess's unusual brutality, a mischevious smile remained plastered on her face.
Luckily, Chapuys didn't seem to suspect anything. "Apology accepted, Your Majesty. Now let us proceed with business."
"Of course...I believe that both you and Monsieur Du Lys have some information to tell me? If it's bad, I can bear it for I've grown impervious to them over the years."
The Frenchman and the Spaniard exchanged knowing looks between them.
"Not exactly, Your Highness,"began Chapuys slowly. "It's quite the opposite really, therefore we think you will be happy with it."
Interested, Mary nodded suggestively for him to continue. What she heard next will prove to be intensely phenomenal.
"Your father, the king, have invited your mother to attend the upcoming wedding," verbalized both ambassadors simultanously.
Mary froze on the spot as she tried to absorb the impact of their words. Was her ears deceiving her? Could what they said possibly be true? Looking upon the faces of the two men before her, she knew that they were genuinely serious.
I can't believe it...my mother is coming to Court! She is coming to witness my wedding day! I never thought that would be possible in my current situation, but it's really happening! Oh, how I long to see her caring face once again and feel her loving embrace around me.
Eventually, she became so emotionally overwhelmed that she broke into a river of tears. The sight made hope fall from the faces of both Joan and Chapuys.
Joan provided a handkerchief. "Why are you crying? Shouldn't you be pleased that your mother will be coming?"
Mary graciously accepeted her offer and proceeded to dry her tears, which were flowing in torrents. Sniffling, she soon replied, "No, you have clearly mistaken...these are tears of joy."
With a quivering smile, Mary reveled in the thought of finally reuniting with her dear mother again...after all those years of unbearable separation.
"You did what?!"
Anne broke loose of Henry's embrace to face him angrily. She seemed extremely displeased.
"I was afraid you would react this way," grumbled Henry as he regretted telling her his decision to bring Catherine back to Court. "Oh, how I should have known better than that."
The air was heating up around Anne. She then said with resentment, "What were you thinking when you invited her to my brother's wedding? She will certainly ruin it, for the people will cheer her on! That is unacceptable!"
Anne was consumed in a whirlwind of rage at the idea of her Spanish nemesis attending a Boleyn wedding. If she could not stand Mary, it was Catherine who really made her blood boil. Why, if the two of them are ever in the same room...the results would certainly be catastrophic.
Flustered, Henry rubbed the back of his neck. "Anne, you are being incredibly selfish. It's my daughter's wedding too," he reminded her gently. "Besides, I owe Catherine for so peacefully stepping down from her queenship. Because of her, you and I are now free to pursue a happy life together. You will rule at my side as my one, true beloved Queen and the jewel of all England."
Anne recognized the tactic he was using. She defiantly turned away from him, determined not to give in.
"Never! No matter what you say, I will not welcome that Spanish cow!"
Henry was momentarily stunned at his fiance's haughty offense toward a Spanish Infanta. He quickly shook it off and continued to speak anyway.
"I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that. I'm doing this for Mary's sake, for she isn't the most thrilled about marrying your brother. Since both of them have surrendered, I figured it would be good for Mary to see her mother again. Just imagine if your mother isn't permitted to attend your wedding. That can be arranged on my orders, you know. "As much as he loved Anne, Henry he couldn't be soft towards her all time. "Hell, I might even remove your title of Marquess of Pembroke if I feel like it! Considering the fact that you are not yet crowned as the Queen of England, I decree that you address Catherine by her proper title. If not, then I'll have no choice but to punish you. Whether you like it or not, Mary will become your sister-in-law in a few day's time and Catherine will be related to you through her. Therefore, I expect you to treat and love them like family. Am I understood?"
It's an undeniable truth that Anne was Henry's match in both stubborness and temper. He expected a response, but instead received a cold shoulder from her.
Realizing that he was getting nowhere with her, Henry resorted to more intimate methods. He immediatey closed the distance and embraced her from behind. Resting his head against her pale neck, he lovingly stroke her swollen stomach with pride. He could feel the beating of heart against his chest and hear her even breathing.
Then he whispered softly into her ear, "Please darling...do it for me. Please."
Anne found Henry to be irresistible at that moment. After extensive consideration, she was content to heed his request.
Turning on her neck to look at him, she finally said, "Yes, but only for you."
Highly pleased, Henry clashed his lips with hers in a passionate kiss. He hoped that Anne will keep her promise.
The very next morning, a courtier was dispatched to Kimbolten Castle. During noon, the ex-Queen Catherine settled into her breakfast with the delivered message in hand. Her loyal friend, Maria de Salinas, sat close by in a corner sewing.
Taking in a self-assuring breath, the reluctant Catherine proceeded to open the letter. Her heart fluttered with relief at what was written.
It seems the king had a change of heart! It's good to see that he has kept his promise! I, the newly made Duchess of Lancaster, is honorably invited to attend the wedding of my Mary to George! I thank God for this act of grace. My dear Mary...oh, how I miss her so sorely. It's such a shame that I wasn't able to take part in my daughter's upbringing, and watch her grow into a beautiful, clever young princess. I wonder how she feels about marrying George Boleyn; I hope she doesn't resent me too much for ceasing to fight for her rights.
Seeing how her mistress had lit up so dramatically, Mariana had to inquire, "What does the letter say, Your Majesty?"
"Maria, my friend, we must start packing! For I am expected to be at Court soon for my daughter's wedding. It's important that we be ready to depart early tommorow morning for Hampton Court." That was all she told her.
Maria, being very excited herself, instantly set out to organize things for their impending journey.
Total Word Count: 7,412 (Not including this Authors Note)
Hooray, that means this is officially my longest chapter document ever written! In a span of about three weeks, I have painstakingly typed up this monstrosity of a chapter! *Does happy dance in a shower of confetti*
Whoo! Yeah! I haven't felt this pumped in a looooooong time! Cookies for all of you! :D.
(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)
Don't be shy, for I insist that you take these cookies! This is my thanks to you all for sticking around this long and taking pfft 5-20 minutes to read my story when you would rather be doing something else! I don't give out cookies as often as I used to, so these are special ^-^
So yeah...I think I pretty much outdid myself with this chapter. I had fun writing it, especially with the more romantic parts. *Wink Wink* I honestly never written anything like that, but I have seen a good amount of romance movies. They helped me to clearly visualize exactly how I want that scene to be like. If you knew me better, you would know that I have a bit of an edge, but boy do I love Love! Spread the love people! They say world peace is impossible, but we must try anyway!
Oh yeah, and then there was Scathach. She is also a character of Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel, where her friends affectionately call her, 'Scatty'. I'm not going into details but there are some basic details you need to know about her such as:
•Her lineage stems from ancient Irish/Scottish lore.
•She belongs to a special class of vampires who don't suck blood.
•Believe it or not, she is also a vegetarian.
•Despite her seemingly young appearance, she is actually well over 10,000 years old.
•She is a badass warrior and master of every known form of combat.
•She has an equally leathal twin sister named, Aoife.
•To top it all off, she is also known as the trainer of heroes, including Achilles and even Joan herself.
Doesn't she sound cool or what? OK, that was of more of a statement than an actual question.
*Switches to cheesy-news-broadcast mode*
WANTED: KingdomHeartsNerd
Criminal Offense: Making multiple viscious, irrational threats against authors to report their story on the grounds of being "unbelievable".
I'm being serious when I say that my #1 pet-peeve are lousy and obnoxious bullies. KHN here had the nerve to bully a good friend of mine into changing their story just to appease...herself? I don't know what gender they are. If any of you have read The Falcons Rose, you'll understand what I mean. Just look at KHN's review! God, I was so pissed because it was very unfair of him/her to ruin a perfectly good story by threatening the author! What's the point of writing when you don't even have control over your own course of mind? If you don't like a story, just be subtle abour it or don't say anything at all. But to flat-out demand someone to change their story for an utterly ridiculous reason...that is absolutely unacceptable!
Readers may keep their rights of speech, but they should never tamper with the rights of an author to think freely. Capiche?
Wow, that felt really good to get my feelings out. Once again, thank you for your loyal readership and I hope you enjoyed this enormous chapter of mine. At best, I might be able to produce the next chapter within four weeks. So try not to catch ebola beforehand.
Please leave a review so that I won't feel as if my efforts were in vain. That would be much appreciated. Don't forget to submit your votes for my poll, which can be found on my profile page. The future of this fic depends on it!
Peace! IOU out!
