Disclaimer: It is completely unfeasible for me to own The Tudors or historical figures, and I do not claim them as mine.

A/N: Thanks again to all of my awesometastical reviewers!

Chapter 10: Fathers and Daughters

Henry stood slightly overwhelmed, partly due to his rapid journey to Hatfield, his high adrenaline levels, and the late hour of the night, but mostly due to the horrendous crimes that the Imperial Ambassador Eustace Chapuys was openly confessing to him outside of his injured wife's bedchamber. He was filled with a mixture of conflicting emotions. The largest one was shock that such a high ranking man like Chapuys was involved in a plot to kill everyone in the way of a Catholic England, be it women or children. Part of Henry wasn't surprised that the Catholic Church had stooped to such low strategies like hiring insane courtiers to assassinate royalty in the name of God. He knew that the Church had its claws dug deep into most every other major monarchy in Europe, and that its influence was obviously negatively directed towards the renegade English monarchs. He really should have known that the ambassador from such a pious nation like Spain would be closely involved with them, but he had simply ignored it. Henry was also angry at Chapuys for conveying the orders of such a heinous crime, even though he knew it was wrong, that would have resulted in the death of two women he held dearest in his heart, Anne and Elizabeth, and that another that should have been near to his heart, Mary, was also wounded in the debacle. Another feeling, though Henry could not consciously identify it, was jealousy. This ambassador, no matter how treacherous, was closer to Mary than he was. He was so close that he felt the need to tell her that murder was being committed almost blatantly under her name, and that she trusted him enough to know that her family members were in danger. Henry should have been the one that Mary could confide in and in return receive news, but instead he had coldly shoved her away as soon as he was ready to do the same to her mother.

However, the greatest emotion that Henry was feeling towards the Spaniard in front of him was pure awe. The fact that Chapuys had owned up to his part in the plot against the Queen and Princess directly to Henry as soon as he could have after the attack, was incredibly brave and bold, something that Henry always respected in a person. Had their roles been reversed, Henry wasn't sure he would admit to something knowing full well that he could be put to death for it. Chapuys would probably never been suspected or punished for such a crime, as ambassadors generally received diplomatic immunity from most crimes. He could have hidden behind his diplomatic cape and let the storm wash over until it was safe to come out again, instead of admitting to said crimes and effectively burning his defensive cape. The figure Henry was now warily gazing at was clearly of a noble breed, and his actions showed for it. However, no matter how much Henry respected the bravery of Chapuys, he could not go unpunished for causing severe injury to his wife and daughter, not to mention the possible psychological trauma Elizabeth would be experiencing.

"Your Excellency, you do know what this means for you, don't you?" Henry asked tiredly.

"Your Majesty can and probably will charge me with high treason, and consequently execute me," answered Chapuys with an eerie coolness. "However, to avoid the usual interrogations after my arrest, I will tell you what you seek most right now," Chapuys leaned closer to the English King. "I will tell you the person who shot at the Queen and Princess, at no benefit to myself."

Henry raised his eyebrows. Was this man insane? He was giving away all of his bargaining chips to save his life, and he knew it. "And who is this despicable man you speak of?" he asked cautiously.

"You know him already from the last investigation that almost cost the Queen her life. William Brereton, Your Majesty," revealed Chapuys with almost frightening indifference.

Henry scowled. Brereton. He knew that he should have dismissed that sick man from his household the minute he was released from the Tower. He glanced back at Chapuys. Normally he would not have thought twice before summoning some guards and arresting him for high treason. Yet, he had saved Wiltshire and his men a great deal of time, labor, and controversy by revealing who had shot Anne and Mary. Henry immediately dismissed the idea that Chapuys could be lying, the way he had been so forthright tonight could only mean that his conscience was eating him alive.

"Your Excellency, I will admit, you find me in a difficult position. On one hand, protocol would dictate that I immediately have you arrested for high treason. Yet, the information and haste of your confession make me think otherwise. You will return to Whitehall tomorrow morning, and remain under house arrest in your apartments at the palace until further notice. Do you understand?" commanded Henry.

Chapuys hesitated for a split second. He did not want to leave Princess Mary's side at her time of need, but at the same time he realized that this was probably the closest thing to amnesty he was going to receive from such a volatile person like the King.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he bowed meekly, and left Henry to ponder what he was going to have to deal with in the morning.

Anthony, Charles, Boleyn, Norfolk, and George all arrived the following morning along with the rest of the investigative team. Naturally, they were all relieved that their work had been done for them and that the rest of the realm would be on the lookout for William Brereton. However, the members of the Boleyn family, and Norfolk, were dismayed that they were forbidden from seeing Anne, as she was still not in a fully stable condition. Anthony was just glad that she was still alive, as the chaos he witnessed yesterday did not look promising. Charles was also relieved that Anne was still alive. After investing all of his time and energy on her case the past few days, he had grown to appreciate the brave woman he had freed. His own wife had distanced herself from him because of it. Had Anne perished yesterday, all his trouble would have been in vain, and Charles would be in a pit of emotional despair.

After being rejected from Anne's chambers, Boleyn and Norfolk summoned a family meeting in one of Hatfield's spare guest chambers. However, since Anne was incapacitated and Mary still disowned from the family, that left only George to accompany them to what he knew was another session of scheming. As he closed the door behind him, Norfolk and Boleyn were already in a deep conversation.

"I knew that that slippery Spanish Ambassador was up to no good!" cried Boleyn in triumph.

"Yes, yes, that is all good, Boleyn," chided Norfolk impatiently, "but we still have the matter about Anne to think about."

George shifted uncomfortably by the door. Of course it was going to get into how they could use his poor sister again. Hadn't she been through enough near death experiences to make her own choices without the influence of her family? George thought so. However, George knew that they would likely ignore his opinions, and kept silent for the time being.

"Yes, I heard she got shot in the stomach. I hope that doesn't affect her ability to carry sons. God knows how much trouble she's been having with that already," sighed Boleyn, clearly uncaring about Anne's actual life.

To everyone's surprise, Norfolk was the one getting irritable about his brother-in-law's attitude. "No, you greedy pig, I meant about her actual health! If she was going to even get out of this recovered! Who knows what her injury will cause, mentally and physically! But all you can care about is how fertile your daughter is! It won't matter how fertile she is if she's dead!" shouted Norfolk.

"But, Uncle, the doctor said that there appears to be no complications as of yet," piped in George. He recognized now that his uncle's side was the one to be on. His father may be the father of the Queen of England, but he was not good at hiding his ulterior motives, a craft which his uncle was a master of from many years at Court.

"Yes, that is true, George, but health is a fragile thing. One minute you can be as healthy as a horse, and the next we could be dying of something like the Sweat," reminded Norfolk.

"Now wait just a minute!" roared Boleyn in outrage. "Anne is my daughter and I will do with her what I see fit! Her duty, first and foremost, is to her family, and that means her father! If she cannot produce an heir, then how will that make me look? I'll never become a duke if that lazy slut cannot do things right for once!" Boleyn howled, as his face flushed from a lack of oxygen.

Norfolk and George glanced at each other. Had Boleyn lost his wits while being imprisoned in the Tower for a couple weeks? It wasn't like he had been threatened with death like his son and daughter.

"You two just do not get it! I have to get that into her head now, and I don't need your or the doctor's permission to do it. My whole reputation hangs in the balance!" he hissed as he pushed his way out the door.

"Did he just say he was…?" trailed off a shocked George.

Snapping back to his senses, Norfolk bolted out of the room to stop his brother-in-law from making one of the worst decisions of his life.

Henry, Charles, and Anthony were talking in the sitting room of Henry's chambers at Hatfield. Unlike the layout of Whitehall, the King and Queen's apartments were across the hall from each other at Hatfield, making it easy for Henry to check the status of Anne's health from Doctor Linacre. Charles and Anthony were trying to take Henry's mind off of his ailing wife, as they knew that Henry did not cope well with stress.

"So, Charles," Anthony said jokingly, "who do you have your eye set on for your next wife?"

Charles shifted in his seat uneasily. "I actually do not have anyone in mind. I wasn't expecting to separate from my wife, so I did not have anyone planned."

Henry and Anthony laughed heartily. "Don't you worry Charles, I'm sure you'll meet some girl soon enough. You still have plenty of time, and you've got Edward as your heir anyway," assured Henry. "And if you need help, I'm sure I can arrange something for you if you want."

"Thank you, Your Majesty, but I believe in true love. I thought I had it twice before with my previous two wives," said Charles, carefully avoiding naming Henry's late sister, "and I shall begin my quest for it soon enough!"

All three men laughed at Charles idealism. Having already been through two wives, what made him think he would find true love with the third?

"I believe in you, Charles," said Henry, as he patted his good friend on the back. "Look at Anne and I. After everything we've been through, we still love each other."

Anthony raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so she forgave you and declared her love for you now?"

"Well, she said that she would try to be more of a responsible Queen, and that she wanted our marriage to change with that. So I assumed that she still loves me. After all, she didn't yell at me when I told her I was willing to mend our relationship!" he confided in his two closest friends.

Before either of them could reply, the trio heard a commotion coming from Anne's chambers. All three of them started to their feet, obviously surprised.

"Anne is in no condition to walk, let alone cause such a ruckus," Henry said, more to himself than his friends.

And with that, they ran out to see what was happening.

Before they could enter Anne's chambers, however, they almost collided with Norfolk and George. Henry quickly waved them off as the two family members gave him hasty bows.

"Your Grace," said Henry, turning to Norfolk, "what is going on here?"

"Well, Your Majesty," began Norfolk, trying to figure out the best way to explain that his brother-in-law, the King's own father-in-law, was most likely going to bring bodily harm upon Anne. However, before he could continue they heard muffled shouting from outside the door. They all leaned closer in an attempt to hear what was being said.

"My lord," they heard Doctor Linacre beg, "Her Majesty cannot be disturbed now! She has not woken since her attack, and it would be foolhardy now to rouse her from her healing sleep!"

The group outside the door heard a great deal of shuffling before a resounding slap.

"You will learn your place as a servant, Linacre," hissed Boleyn. "Anne is my daughter, and I will do what I want with her! Now you will stand out of my way."

Henry was so shocked that the father of his wife could be so heartless, that he was too stunned to take action.

"Anne, you lazy whore, wake up!" ordered Boleyn. They could hear him rattling her from her sleep.

"Father, what are you doing?"asked a groggy Anne.

"You need to get off of your haunches and win back the King. You are inhibiting my bid for what is rightfully mine!" growled Boleyn.

"What?" asked Anne. She was clearly disoriented.

"Did that gunshot wound also inflict damage to your head?" adamantly scolded Boleyn. They could hear them manhandling her again.

"My Lord!" broke in a clearly distressed Dr. Linacre. "You must stop this madness at once! You are reopening the Queen's wound!"

"I told you to mind your own business!" yelled Boleyn.

Henry, finally shaken from his paralysis, then burst through the door. The scene before him resembled what he had heard outside. Anne was hanging limply in the night gown he had seen her in the night before, her father had a fistful of the fabric clenched in his hand. A grotesque crimson rose was blossoming on Anne's stomach, the spot where Henry knew her wound was. Dr. Linacre was right, her wound was reopening. The left side of Anne's face was also an unnatural pink compared with her etiolated pallor, the sure sign of a hard smack to the face. Her father was still extremely red in the face, almost matching the color of the blood he had spilled. The arm not grasping Anne was holding back a struggling Dr. Linacre, who was doing his best to protect his royal charge. However, the scene froze when Henry and the rest of the men outside of the door poured in.

"Unhand my wife, my lord," ordered a scarily subdued Henry. Boleyn carelessly dropped Anne back amongst the linens of the bed, muffle her spasmodic and pain laced sobs. Without needing direction, Dr. Linacre quickly moved to patch up his Queen.

A curt nod from Henry led to Charles and Anthony roughly seizing Boleyn and restraining him in a nearby room for interrogation. Norfolk and George stood uneasily by the bedside, but out of the way of the scrambling royal physician.

Henry rushed to the other side of the bed, grasping one of Anne's pale hands, and brought it softly to his lips.

"I am so sorry, sweetheart," murmured Henry, forgetting everybody else in the room. "Why didn't you tell me your father was like that?" Henry was not actually expecting an answer from her, but her head turned towards him and she smiled faintly.

"Because, Henry, no matter what horrors my father has put me through, he is still my father, and though I do not always want to, I will always love him." Anne whispered in a pain-induced delirium.

Henry nodded as she tried to escape back into a peaceful slumber. He moved back and allowed Dr. Linacre to do his work, while he mulled over what Anne had said. Could Mary still love him after all that he did (or really did not do) to her? Henry had initially planned to consult Anne about this today if she had woken up, but her rather spontaneous and unknowingly helpful advice was all that he needed.

Henry turned to see Norfolk and George still staring intently at Anne's now sleeping figure. "You two," he whispered so as not to rouse Anne, "talk with me outside, now."

"To be totally honest, Your Grace, I have no real desire to even speak to the Earl of Wiltshire right now." Henry told Norfolk outside of Anne's room. "Everything he says is probably going to be a lie to save his own skin, judging by his actions earlier. That is why I am giving you and Lord Rochford the chance to explain everything, because right now you two are guilty by association."

"Your Majesty, the Earl of Wiltshire's crimes did not involve us. He was obsessed that the Queen was infertile and wouldn't be able to provide Your Majesty with a son, thus making it impossible to become a duke. However, Lord Rochford and I do not agree with these ideas, which was why we ran into you outside the Queen's bedchamber," explained Norfolk.

"My father was just trying to secure the highest rank possible for himself, no matter who he harmed to get it," admitted George morosely. "We tried to stop him, but he was crazed for power that he did not have."

Henry nodded. In truth, he did not really think that Norfolk and Rochford were involved in his father-in-law's slanderous behavior, but he wanted to see their reactions. The fact that they did not attempt to protect Boleyn, but at the same time were not trying to gain more power or blame him for more things than he was guilty of, intrigued him.

"You are dismissed," Henry announced when he saw Dr. Linacre approaching. The other two men bowed and departed, probably wondering what they were going to do now.

"Doctor," said Henry, eagerly awaiting news about Anne.

"Thankfully, Her Majesty just reopened her wound a little. She'll still be able to make a full recovery in my professional opinion," replied the physician with relief.

"Thank you," said Henry, almost motioning to him for dismissal when he remembered one of the reasons Boleyn had gone to his wife's room in the first place. "Wait," he called to Dr. Linacre, as he made his way to pack up his equipment. "Did the Queen's injury affect her fertility?"

The doctor smiled. "Of course not, Your Majesty! The Queen was hit in the stomach, not the womb. She will still be able to give you a Prince of Wales," he assured his sovereign.

Henry gave a sigh of relief and let his royal physician leave. As he turned down the hallway, he braced himself to see his cast away first daughter. He half hoped that she would be asleep so he would have more time to prepare himself without neglecting her more than he already had. However, when he opened the door to her chamber, he found that she was laying awake in her bed, staring out the window. He noticed her entire left arm was hidden a white linen sling.

Henry cleared his throat. "Mary," he said uncertainly.

His daughter turned around, surprise and delight shone in her eyes. Then, as soon as it had come, it disappeared under a colder and guarded expression. "Your Majesty," she said as she bowed her head, since she was unable to curtsey in her current state.

"No, Mary, Papa," Henry corrected as he moved towards his daughter's bedside. "I know that I haven't seen you in years, but I am here for you now," he said, hoping she would drop her cold façade.

Unfortunately for Henry, it didn't. "Well, 'Papa,' now that you are here, after over 4 years of not seeing you, what could you possibly want from me?" she asked with disdain.

"You know perfectly well why I'm here," snapped back Henry, quickly losing his temper.

"Because that concubine you call your wife was shot? You only came here to see if she was okay, not because you were concerned how your eldest daughter was!" cried back Mary. Henry flinched. She was right, he had forgotten about her until Dr. Linacre had reminded him. What could he say? 'Yes, I forgot about you, sorry?' So Henry stayed silent.

"I knew it. I knew that you do not care about me," bitterly murmured Mary, more to herself than to her royal father.

"Mary," began Henry, carefully placing his hand on her uninjured shoulder. "I do care about you, I-" Mary cut him off.

"If you cared about me, you wouldn't have exiled my mother and left her to waste away. If you cared about me, you would have visited me. If you cared about me, you wouldn't have not only bastardized me, but force me into serving my younger half-sister!" she ranted.

"Mary, Mary, I do care about you!" insisted Henry. "I may not be good at showing it, and I do have my own flaws too. You insist on claiming you are a Princess, even though my marriage to your mother has been annulled. For my reputation, I cannot have you going about Court saying you are a Princess when you are not! I need you to sign the Oath of Succession before I can fully show my affection."

"So it's back to that oath," echoed Mary. Henry flinched.

"I didn't mean to bring that up now," he tried to apologize. "But your being at Hatfield is for your own safety too! Do you know how many of my enemies would have tried to use you against me to get the crown for themselves?"

Mary had actually thought about that, and did agree that she would have rather not been used by other hotheaded men. It was bad enough that her father was egotistical, but she did not know how many men with distorted visions of grandeur she could stand. "Yes," conceded Mary, "but that does not mean that leaving me here in basically exile was the right thing to do!"

"Yes, I know that now," admitted Henry. "And judging by your actions to save Elizabeth yesterday, you have proven to me that you do not deserve to live like this," Henry motioned to the small and relatively meager room that Mary inhabited. "Once you are healthy enough to travel, I will allow you a small household of your own, in Wales if you like. Or, if you agree, to signing the Oath, I will give you the household in Wales and you may travel to Court once you are completely recovered," offered Henry.

Mary was nonetheless a little bit shocked. She had not been expecting her father to actually allow her a small household. She thought he would be his normal cruel self and send her straight back to her duties serving Elizabeth whenever she could. So though she was overjoyed at the thought of being able to leave Hatfield, Mary was not sure if she could sign the Oath. After all of her obstinance against the Oath, could she turn her back on her religion and her mother just so she could be happy? She remembered what Chapuys had told her earlier. If she signed the Oath under duress, then she would not really be denouncing her faith. But… she did not want to blame a piece of paper for her actions. She knew that her mother would want her to be happy, and she was not getting any younger.

"Alright, Papa, I will sign the Oath on one condition," bargained Mary.

"And what condition would that be, Mary?" asked Henry skeptically. She really wasn't in a position to be making demands.

"Find me a husband, and I will agree to sign the Oath."

"Alright, Mary. I do agree that you are indeed of marrying age, and I have neglected to do you the fatherly responsibility of looking for a proper husband for you." Henry agreed. Carefully kissing her on the cheek, he left the room. He had not exactly reconciled with her, but it was the best he was going to get today.

A/N: Okay, so another long chapter from me! Thomas Boleyn may seem a little OOC, but really, that guy was a total selfish jerk. I hope Mary doesn't seem too soft and eager to please Henry, because she isn't. Anne will finally make a fully conscious reappearance in the next chapter was well! I have had some suggestions about Mary and Charles being together, and since I already have who I want him to be with in my mind, I can neither confirm or deny this. We will also find out Chapuys's fate next chapter! I warn you though, I have had another plot bunny for a different fandom pop into my mind, so I don't know when the next chapter of this story will come out. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning this, just widening my horizons!