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~Caroilna

"You may believe that nothing is wrong until you are crying,
crying on me!
That life is too long until you are dying, dying on me
You think that everybody is the same
I don't think that anybody is like you
You think that everybody is the same
I don't think anybody is like you"
~Re-arranged by Limp Bizkit.

That is if her father let Anne of Cleves live ...

Mary thought grimly how everything was passing in the form of a vicious cycle in their lives. For the longest time Mary believed she had nothing to live for except her mother's faith, and aspiration that one day she could become Queen.

Que no se te olvide eres descendiente de Fernando e Isabela y algun dia seras Reina. [1]

Her mother had said what for Mary now seemed ages ago. She had to her mother that she would be Queen, and that she would make her parents proud, especially her.

That promise was kept, Mary might not become Queen of England (if Anne bore a son that is) but she was destined, she still believed, to become a great ruler alongside Phillip. He was a Duke, a Ruler Duke at that. In spite of what the others thought of Phillip, she believed he would make a great Ruler, because he had a great woman by his side to teach him, her.

Besides, Philip had mentioned that her brother was leaving no heirs and that he would soon reclaim his title and his Uncles' to become the new Count Palatine. Just imagine, thought Mary, if Phillip becomes Count Palatine as well that will elevate him in my father's book, and in my cousin's. The latter of which was more important for Mary.

She depended a lot on her father's love and approval, but second after her father's was her cousin's who had been a great asset, and help throughout all her life -after her father's unholy union with the Harlot.

If it had not been for his support Mary would not be here right now -she felt.

She could feel Phillip squeeze her hand as they walked to the Queen's Chambers. They were not allowed to get in.

Inside were the midwives, the Royal Physicians, Doctors Linacre and Butts and of course the Queen's must trusted Ladies In Waiting. That gave Mary some comfort as she clutched the rosary that had once belonged to her mother, handed to her by her late stepmother -Jane Seymour, that the Queen's new Lady, the new Harlot was not there with her.

Her presence alone would be enough to curse the mother and the child.

Mary prayed for a safe delivery, though she was supposed to care, for this child (based on its gender) could either elevate her or separate her more from the succession. At this point she did not care however on what her sibling's gender was, she only cared that he or she as its mother would be allowed to live -that is if my father decides to speak for both-she reminded herself as she heard Phillip greet the person she least expected to see.

There was the Imperial Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys standing before the Duke and the Duchess of Bavaria.

He curtsied to the Duke and to the Duchess.

I should use a cane -Chapuys thought feeling the pain in his leg returning after two days of being absent. -but that would make me seem more like the broken and decayed Ambassador that Marillac thinks me to be, and that I am sure half of this blasted Court thinks of me too.

He finished his line of thought as he head the Duke's voice greeting him in return.

"Your Excellency, is a good thing to see you here. Is there any news on my cousin's condition?" The Duke asked him in a hurried tone, like the impetuous young man he was.

Seeing into his emerald eyes he saw no patience to anyone or anything but , he mentally scoffed, he was not.
There was more naivety and impatience in these man's eyes than any of the proud English nobles and Royals he had been witnessed of in his life-time, and that -for Eustace- was saying something.

His Master's cousin, Her Grace's eyes were as pensive as were expected. She had one weakness, feeling empathy for others. Unlike her husband, and the rest of the Court she put her own needs below the others. It was always watching over Elizabeth, Edward or watching over Phillip before putting her needs in first place.

Naive and irritable, yet a trait he found to admire over time in the former Princess.

He returned his gaze to the Duke, who did not take notice, and if he did he did not seem to care (as he had other things on mind), that he had not returned his wife's greeting.

"His Majesty has reached a decision with the Physicians." He told the Royal couple.

Both, especially the Duchess, leaned forward, their eyebrows arched.

"The labor has lasted more than usual and it has come to a decision, either the Queen's life or the child's and since His Majesty has suspected it was a boy because Her Majesty's womb was always round centered instead of being low like it would be if it was a girl"

Chapuys, by the time he had finished watched the Duke's face falling, his wife coming closer to his side clutched his hand and put her other harm on her shoulder where she rested her rosary on. It was her mother's rosary, Chapuys noted.

The closer Mary neared Phillip's left ear, the sicker Chapuys got. He felt he would throw up at any minute his morning breakfast. He had to move away from the scene, thankfully though Fleming was there with him and when he moved away from the distraught couple, Fleming walked alongside with his Master closer to the Queen's Chambers were sudden screams of pains echoed the hallways.

Phillip shot his head in surprise as he heard the screams from his cousin, the Queen of England and Lady of Cleves. Though he did not share Mary's beliefs, at this moment he was willing to try the old ways for the sake of his cousin's and his niece or nephew's health.

He began, as his eyes opened to Mary. "Sweetheart I know you do not believe in God the way I do, but I have always been interested in the old ways, I want to learn. Please" he said, his voice becoming more passionate as he took Mary's hands in his own, he could feel the rough texture of her mother's rosary against his skin. "allow me to pray with you for the Queen and for the child."

"Phillip" She said slowly. She could not believe he was asking her this.

"It will be an honor" Mary said.

Phillip could not smile to show his happiness because at the moment he felt helpless, the woman he had grown to love as a sister could be exhaling her last breath at any moment. He needed Mary's security, her strength which was much greater than his. Mary gladly gave it to him.

They began to pray, first for their cousin and half sibling respectively, and then lowering their voice they prayed for the Queen's health that she might have a safe delivery and that both she and the child might survive the pains of childbirth.

Hours passed and the screams of the Queen intensified. The Physicians were having a hard time restraining the Queen and the midwives, some of them had pink and purple bruises on their eyes and scratch marks on their arms. They all tried very hard to restrain the Queen from harming herself and from harming her captors.

They tried telling Anne too that she was not their prisoner, they were all here to help her, but Anne did not listen. All she knew was that her life was doomed with the delivery of this child. She had never known pain like this before. She had heard about it through her sister Sybilla and her mother, they said it was natural that all women who were mothers had gone through it. Her mother and her sister had survived, why shouldn't she?

But unlike their labor pains, hers was different because not only was she carrying a child, she was carrying Henry VIII's child and like all his wives she had inherited the curse that accompanied childbirth ... DEATH.

Katherine of Aragon when she'd borne babies, the story was very popular even in Germany, all her babies except one had been dead. Lady Mary, now the Duchess of Cleves and her stepdaughter was the only survivor of her mother's miscarriages. Lady Elizabeth's mother, the same story. The stress had sentenced them to death. One a slow and painful death in a prison Castle, living in poverty and condemned never to see her mother again, and the other a swift and shameful death with the blow of a sword. Both their daughters had been left orphans. But alas, when fate seemed to smile on them with Jane Seymour; fate had returned with the vengeance for the woman who stepped over Anne Boleyn's bloodied shoes and took her away leaving yet another child orphan.

Anne did not know if God was out there, or if he was listening, but if He was, she prayed to him that please do not let her die. As heartless as her prayer sounded to Him, she preferred for the child to die if her fate was to die. She would not condemn another child to an orphan life in the most vile Court in all of Europe. No, she would not have it that way! Either both lived, or none lived at all.

Soon her wish would be answered.

As she saw the Doctors open a box where they pulled out an scalpel, Anne took a deep breath and prepared herself for the tougher rode ahead.

She was not afraid though, she had made her peace with God. At least, she thought, if she were to die now, she would have some company in Heaven with her father and her child.

Mary and Phillip had finished praying when the Queen's cries died down. Phillip's head turned to the Queen's chamber door in alarm. It was only him, his wife, His Excellency, and other Ambassadors, along with some man servants from His Majesty.

The cries had ceased when him and Mary's last prayer ended.

Mary's head shot up in alarm at the same time as the Ambassador Chapuys' when one set of cries broke the deadly silence.

It was a newborn's cry. Mary gasped when the Physicians came from the room, a grave look on their faces.

No, Mary thought, it could not be. Not Anne ... not her ... please don't let her be ...

But she was, as she locked eyes with the Ambassador's who nodded. Mary did not shed tears as she had for Jane Seymour upon learning of her death.

He looked away moments later when the King came rushing in. He had probably had already heard the cries from his newborn, by now everyone probably had.

After a deadly silence as the child's cries died down slowly, her father cut the tension in the room as he stood face to face with the Physicians.

He could not wait this time for the news of his offspring's gender. This was not a woman he loved, or cherished, this was a woman he was forced to love or bed just for the sake of obtaining a Duke of York, a second heir to maintain his Tudor Dynasty. He had to know once and for all, Mary thought as he saw her father's expectant stare, if marrying the Flander's Mare had been worth the wile.

"What is it?" He asked again when the Physicians began trembling.

Mary could already see the future, you didn't have to be a astrologer to know what was going to happen next after they informed him the bad news.

However, for better or for worse, in this case Mary considered it for worse, one of the midwives came quickly bowing in front of her father.

"Your Majesty" She began, she had trouble looking at the King as she had one purple eye, product of the German fist that had collided to her face after she tried to calm the Queen down.

The King showed no compassion to the hurt maid, like with his Royal Physicians he screamed "Well what is it? What did the Queen have?"

Before the Physicians could answer, the maid replied: "A girl Your Majesty ... The Queen did not survive the birth and the child ..."

"Yes?" Asked the King more angry than impatient.

The midwife was forced to look down, she was afraid to face the King right now, but she was forced to respond, she had no choice.

"The child has just died ... it stopped breathing ... we tried everything but ..."

The maid did not get to finish as the King left the room in a hurry. There was no pain in his eyes, no sadness, only fear and desperation.

"And we start from zero. When you make believe that nothing is wrong, he comes to you again. You do not realize it, but one death changes us for better or for worst, it happens the same with the evolution of the relationship, from strangeness it becomes love. But be careful because once you open your gates to love, you can never close them." ~Open the gates by Anonymous

Now that his wife was gone, and so the child he began plotting. He needed a new wife, someone younger, someone stronger, someone who could love him and that he could in return.

He had the perfect candidate.

But his ambitions did not stop there. For if he married his rose without a thorn, a single male heir would not be enough, for security, just for now until he could marry his true love, he would have to deposit all his hopes on his first grandchild.

He looked at the old Crucifix that was on top of his drawer next to his four poster bed. He had not prayed to that Silver Crucifix since Sir Thomas' death.

Of all the people Henry had executed, there was not one he more regretted than Sir Thomas. He had been his loyal servant, he said so himself in his execution, but had been blind, very blind because of that witch, that whore Anne Boleyn.
Out of all the damage she had done when he'd married her, the only good thing that came from her was Elizabeth. He loved that child, sometimes more than Mary. Though Mary would always have a special place in his heart, it was Elizabeth whom he considered his True Tudor Rose.

The months passed and the whole Country mourned another Consort and their lost unnamed Princess. Mary felt more pressured now than ever. When Anne of Cleves had died, all the hopes of getting another male heir were deposited on her.

Phillip tried to calm her down by telling her of what great life awaited the next ruler of Bavarian, and possibly he would add, the next Count Palatine.

Like her he was ambitious, though he tended not to flaunt it like the rest of his English Counterparts. The death of Anne of Cleves, the cousin he loved like a sister had changed him, and it changed her as well.

One week later after the time mourning for Anne of Cleves had passed for them, His Excellency came to visit her.

Somehow he always seemed to know when she would be alone. At this point nothing about Chapuys surprised her. She knew that he had a network of spies, and she wouldn't put it past him to bribe some of her own maids at Hunsdon where she was currently staying.

She was seven months pregnant now, she felt herself very heavy.

She had spent the Holidays with her father who did not seem ever remotely sad for the loss of his wife or his shot-lived Princess. Instead, he had taken the time of Christmas Celebrations to introduce his future wife, Katherine Howard.

Mary had to stop herself from yelling at her Harlot and whore. If it hadn't been for her, Anne of Cleves would still be alive. She had gone into early labor because of the stress that her father and her former Lady In Waiting had put her through with their affair behind her back. Though she had seen Kitty Howard on few occasions with her late stepmother, she had never got the chance to talk to her, not that she cared, she had no desire then as she had no desire now to talk to this frivolous whore.

Whore, that is all she would ever amount to be, a whore just like her cousin the doomed Lady Anne Boleyn.

She was glad to hear that after the New Year was over, her father had given her and her husband permission to travel back to Hunsdon. He agreed that the fresh air would do her and her grandchild good.

Phillip had warned her that it would be wise not to upset her father anymore. Though her father had expressed no displeasure, Phillip could tell that he wasn't pleased with them. His future wife could be the future mother of the Duke of York, Mary had to acknowledge her at some point before she became Queen, but Mary would not listen. Why did she have to acknowledge her? She would say. Phillip not wanting to discuss anymore put the matter to rest, but for the future, he made a mental note not to give up. Their acceptance, especially his wife's depended on how well she behaved with Kitty Howard.

"Excellency" she greeted as her attentions were focused on Chapuys whom she was surprised to see gripping a cane. Her eyes turned to concern as she focused more on the Ambassador's leg where the gout was said to be.

"Are you alright?" She asked in deep worry.

"Your Grace I am afraid I am suffering from a little bit of gout" he responded.

"Please sit" She said quickly. He obliged taking a seat in an arm chair next to her. He hoped that what he came to call the curse of the armchair would not repeat itself for the third time.

He felt comfortable as he gave a long sigh. He hated having this cane, he really did. But the Physician gave him no choice, it was either that or having to rely on the shoulders of others, something nobody -he'd vowed- would ever see him doing.

"How are you? I am sorry that I have not reported myself back to you" She said earnestly. "Things have been very ... strange"

Chapuys nodded. "I agree, the Emperor does not agree either with your father's new love. Rumors are that he has already married her" He said calmly watching how his former Princess' eyes went wide with shock.

"What?" She asked outrage. "No. How could he have done that? Did he not learn his lesson with Anne Boleyn?" She said spitting the name Anne Boleyn as if it was venom

Chapuys lifted an eyebrow. After all these years her hatred for Anne Boleyn had not lessened. Her father's latest marriage, if he had indeed had married the young woman, would only intensify her hatred for the King's late concubine.

"I am afraid the King is very much in love with the Howard girl, and he has not deterred as I have told your cousin from his amorous pursuit with this silly girl. But regardless of who she is related, she is or will be your father's Queen, it is recommendable that you show her respect, your own cousin has told me to pass this message unto to you" He said leaning forward, his voice becoming lower as they both knew that every wall on England had more than one set of ears.

Mary tilted her head and her eyebrows still raised she said in disbelief "How can I respect her? I hate her!"

Chapuys avoided the urge to tell her anymore, casting a brief glance at her swollen belly, he didn't want to cause her or her unborn child anymore stress. Though he still believed her marriage to Phillip of Bavaria a mistake, if the Queen failed to give the King a son, than all the hopes to restoring England would rest on her and on the child she was carrying. It was the sole reason why he had not slept for nearly a week, praying to God and all the Saints that the child resting in the Duchess' womb might be a son.
Regardless of what its education could be, if He or She was anything like its mother, then it would have its mother's true heart and logic, hopefully if it was a boy he could help his mother (he was willing to give her child the benefit of the doubt despite what its education would be) restore England to the Nation it was meant to be, and pull it away from the clutches of Heresy and the Devil.

"It is necessary that you must, your father everyone expects you to" Chapuys said, his tone still calm.

His relaxed position made her relax herself in her seat. She had been moving constantly, even when she was resting from the anxiety she felt because of her pregnancy, and as of now her father's recent marriage.

She could not accept Kitty Howard, she never would. That was impossible! Why accept a woman who was cousin to the Concubine responsible for ruining her life and her mother's?

But eventually she saw the logic in the Ambassador's advice. If she didn't "submit" herself to her father's new wife, dire consequences would await her. She would repeat history once more like when she had refused the Harlot's offer, which she was still glad to have done so, but this time this Harlot's offer would be different for everyone would recognize her as her father's wife.

"Then there is no choice?"

Chapuys shook his head "I am afraid not Your Grace"

"Very well then" she began "tell my cousin that he can stop worrying over me, I will accept my father's proposal and marriage and I will show nothing but kindness to England's new Queen" She said giving him a light grin.

He was not convinced, he knew she would continue to blame the new Queen for the late Queen's death and the death of her sibling, but on the brighter side his former princess was learning the rules of the game, and that for him, was a great advantage for it would help her a great deal, especially if the child she carried in her belly was a a boy, England's future King and Duke of Bavaria.

A/N: Thanks to SSLE (Dani) who encouraged me to do this chapter.

[1] Spanish to English: Don't forget that you are descendant from Fernando and Isabel and that one day you will be Queen.

*Also I will put Kitty Howard's age around nineteen, since the series made her be younger, but her birth year is around 1521, she was only five years younger than Mary so she will still be nineteen for next chapter, her month though I put it around March, my own invention around the time when Mary's child is supposed to be born, when she will turn 20.

*So what will the first Tudor Bavarian be, Lady or Lord?