Author's Note: Not much about Anne or Mary in this chapter (though there is a bit of Frances!), I'm sorry. Though I like them very much, I think the religious and political aspects of Henry's stories are far too often neglected in fanfiction in favour of love matters. But I do have a plan for his family and his upcoming marriage, and it will probably begin to show in the chapter to come. Please go on reviewing- I find it very interesting to see what developments you like/don't like.

Lead us not into Temptation (Matthew 6:13)

"This belief that the Pope and clergy possess separate power and authority is contrary to Scripture. The king is the representative of God on Earth and his law is God's law," Henry read aloud. "The ruler is accountable to God alone and the obedience of his subjects is an obedience required by God." He sighed deeply. "For the Church and the Pope to rule the princes of Europe is not only a shame above all shames but an inversion of the divine order. One king and one law in God's name in every realm."

He closed the book noisily and looked into Anne's glowing eyes. She had given him this book that now filled his heart with righteous fire.

"This book is a book for me, and for all kings," he assured her.

"And there are other books like it. Books which detail the abuses of power, privileges, the greed of the clergy in Your Majesty's realm. Books which some people deliberately keep hidden from you."

The King sat down and lowered his gaze at the book once more. Could it be true? Were his trusted councillors trying to keep him dumb? God, was everyone trying to make a puppet of him?

"I should like to read them," he announced. "Now that I've taken power unto myself I shall work day and night if necessary to resolve things. Including the reformation which I think now is God's order for me and the reason he spared your life, so that you might counsel me." Henry smiled at his beloved. "I swear to you, everything now will be different."

To the people of the English court, the sight of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, strolling up the main hallways with a beautiful lady was no novelty. Before his marriage to the King's sister, he'd had quite a reputation as a masher and serial womaniser breaking the hearts of maids and noblemen's daughters alike. Some had even spread the rumour that he had –sub rosa – continued his amorous pursuits during his ill-fated marriage, but there had never been an incontestable proof of his infidelities. Now that he was finally back at court, the telltales had hoped to catch him red-handed with a pretty girl- but this was not what they had expected.

The girl at Brandon's side was not even ten, still a bit chubby and plain looking at first sight. She had maroon hair that flew over her shoulders in curls and keen, dark eyes that seemed to observe everything going on at court. Some of the oldest courtiers found in her a cunning resemblance to a young Tudor princess, who had long ago been the centre of attention. Now it was Frances's time.

Brandon, who had been reluctant at first to take his elder daughter to court, was now positively beaming with fatherly pride. He enjoyed the curious and admiring gazes his daughter received as they made their way up to the King's reception room. There was a bit of cold calculation in the way he had dressed her for today: A wine-red dress with pearl accessories. She looked like a miniature of her late mother. He couldn't wait to see Henry's face.

"His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk, and the Lady Frances Brandon," a herald announced.

The King was sitting on the dais, regally clothed in black and white damask. He had a magnanimous smile on his lips as he watched his closest friend and his niece approaching. The little girl curtseyed flawlessly and without any signs of contumacy, as her mother had done the last time he'd seen her. But other than that, she was her mother's smaller twin. Henry's eyes widened and he could barely keep the calm to receive them properly.

"My dear Charles," he laughed and arose opening his arms widely. "How good of you to finally present to me your daughter, my dear niece."

"It is my duty and my pleasure," Charles replied smiling.

"Come forward, child," the King addressed the girl. He had expected her to be reluctant, to be shy, to be blinded by his glorious appeal, but quickly discovered that she was her mother's child in every way. Frances moved towards him slowly, but with burning decision in her eyes, as if she considered it merely her birthright to be presented to him.

"Your Majesty is very kind to receive me in person," she said with an illustrious attitude. "I have been looking forward to it so much."

"You have?" Henry smiled. It was only now that he remembered how much he loved children, and how much he had missed Mary over the years. "Well, my Lady, we are now introduced. Would you like me to show you something?"

"If it pleases you, Sir," she nodded.

Henry served her with his hand and led her to the dais, where he took a seat on the throne. He then offered her to sit on his lap, something she agreed to only with reluctance. He pitied the fact that he had not formed a close bond to her long ago. Apart from his daughter, Frances and her siblings were all that was left of Tudor blood in England. They were the shards of a broken family that Henry desperately wished to fix. He beckoned a servant to come and show Frances a velvet cushion, on top of which lay a necklace of pearls and precious gems. He could see the little girl's eyes sparkle.

"Do you like it?"

"It is very pretty, Your Majesty."

"It once belonged to your mother," he said softly. "It was my gift for her 20th birthday; I had it made especially for her. I wanted everyone to see how beautiful my sister was."

Frances looked at him puzzled. If he'd loved her so much, why had he never visited her? And why did he look so sad now?

"It is a great loss that your mother was called away by God, but in his mercy, he has left you to us. You are the spitting image of your mother, little lady."

"I know," Frances said pertly. "People often say so." The King and his courtiers couldn't help but laugh for a moment, but the girl only frowned. "Have I said something wrong?"

"No, my sweet niece, you haven't. You behave just as befitting your station," Henry reassured her and patted her hair. "And because you are such a good girl, I want to give this necklace to you. You should wear it with the same pride as your mother."

The girl jumped off his leg and patiently waited for the King to put the jewel around her neck. Then she turned towards the courtiers as if they were a stage audience and proudly awaited their reaction. Henry smiled as if under a charm. A Tudor girl through and through, he thought as he began to clap with the rest of his attendees soon following in on the applause. The girl took a fleet-footed jump off the dais and rushed to her father's side.

"Thank you, Charles, for introducing me to this wonderful English rose," the King finally said. "She is a credit to you and to her late mother. She has royal blood and should be treated accordingly by having the greatest tutors and education a girl can receive. What say you, Suffolk, to this offer: That she joins my daughter, the Princess Mary, upon her return to Ludlow, so that they may be educated together?"

Brandon's mouth stood open; he knew not what to say. It was a great honour that the King had finally made his peace with the marriage and the children produced from it, but it also meant having to part with his beloved daughter. He searched the eyes of his old friend for an answer, but the King had already turned to Frances.

"Would it please you, Lady Frances, to join your cousin in Ludlow? I knew of no one better to be the friend and companion of my daughter."

"I don't know," Frances replied. "Is she nice?"

Henry burst into resounding laughter. "Yes, Frances, she is a very nice girl. And unlike you, she has no siblings to play with. I am certain that she should like to have a fine friend like you, her dearest cousin."

"Well, if she likes it, then I must like it, too," Frances mused and turned to her father. "Father?"

Brandon dropped to his knees and kissed her on the forehead. "His Majesty is very gracious to offer you a place at his daughter's side. Only very special children are allowed to be there. If you want to, you can go."

"But would you not miss me?"

Charles smiled and exchanged glances with the King, who suddenly rose from his throne.

"Of course he will miss you, sweet Lady, as I will miss my daughter. But we are strong men; we will do our best to cope with it. And I promise that we shall come to visit you or invite you to court as often as we can," he said smiling.

"In that case," Frances turned to the King again and curtseyed. "We have an understanding, Sir."

"I want you to set up a new parliament," the King said. He was walking with Thomas More in the gardens as they had often done before. "Important things need to be done. My exchequer is empty, for one thing."

"I will do as your Majesty commands," More replied. "But I must warn you that you may not find this parliament as compliant as those before."

"How so?"

"Well, though I must confess to being amongst those who called for greater tolerance and freedom of speech, I fear that the freedom so given by Your Majesty's kindness is now openly abused. There are many dissenting voices in the kingdom chiefly on religious matters. There are calls for a reformation."

Henry turned away from him. He needed to think. Why would More, of all people, tell him about the reformation? Nobody was more against it than him! He looked at his Chancellor with ice cold eyes.

"How many have you burned, Thomas?"

"Six," More replied without a twitch of an eye. "All lawful, necessary and well done."

"Well done," Henry echoed his words.

"Yes, Harry."

He walked away without words. The time for Harry is over, Thomas. It is over since you have begun killing people in my name because they do not agree with you. Do you try to use me as your puppet just like all the others?

Knivert and Brandon looked to the empty chair at their table. There was a silent agreement to keep an empty chair wherever they met so as to remind themselves that, for them, Compton was never really gone. In their memories he was here still and would continue to do so until none of them was left and they met again in Heaven. They raised their cups and toasted to their dead friend.

"I'm surprised you have so much time," Knivert said then.

"To do what?"

Knivert grinned. "To do nothing."

"What are you saying?"

"Aren't you supposed to be running the country, president of the council?"

Brandon smiled, too. "I leave that to Norfolk. He's had more practise. In any case, meetings with ambassadors? Infinitely tedious. They're all liars, hypocrites, and middle-aged men."

"Would you prefer them to be women?"

They grinned like the boys they still were underneath their precious clothing.

"My friend, if all ambassadors were beautiful women, I'd be serving my country day and night."

Knivert smiled and drank more Ale. It was an immense relief for him to finally sit and drink with his old friend without having to think of the Sweat or anything. It felt almost like the good old days were back.

"Speaking of beautiful women; I cannot see your pretty little daughter around. Half the court talks about her these days. Where are you hiding her?

"She went to meet her cousin, the Princess Mary," Charles quickly explained. He seemed a bit uneasy with this explanation.

"I am told that she has met with the King."

"Yes, indeed. And he has decided to put her into Mary's household so that they can be educated together as any child of royal blood should."

Knivert raised an eyebrow. "Are you not satisfied with it?"

It took a long pause before Brandon finally answered his question. "Sure I am, she will be the friend of a princess. I just don't like being separated from her so soon after Margaret's death."

"I understand that," Knivert assured him and placing a hand on his friend's shoulder he went on. "But on the bright side, you will be free to turn to your statesmanship. Who knows, there might even be a beautiful ambassador's wife to catch your interest?"

Thomas Boleyn rushed through the rooms of Hampton Court like a king himself. His daughter had finally agreed to become queen, and even though they had to wait until Christmas to make it public, everything was already settled. She would get to the throne and into the King's bed. With any luck, he could be the grandfather of the next king of England and a duke within a year's time! Not even the sight of the annoying ambassador of Spain could besmirch his mood now.

"Your Excellency, what can I do for you?" He asked the man who had cleverly put himself into his way.

"My Lord, I would ask you a very great favour. These are troubled times," the ambassador began while trying to keep up with Boleyn's pace. "It seems to me that in certain quarters there is now a blatant and open hostility to our holy Church. As we discovered in Germany…"

Boleyn cut him short. "And what do you expect me to do?" He asked without any expression on his face.

"I beg you to use the great influence you have here at court to pull England back from the brink of catastrophe and ruin," Chapuys pleaded.

Thomas Boleyn laughed on the inside about the poor man who had turned to exactly the wrong person. On the outside however he was as cold as usual when he passed the pleading man by.

"For the love that we all bear to Christ and his apostles!" Chapuys exclaimed.

That was too much nonsense, even for a calm man as Lord Rochford. He turned around and faced the ambassador directly. His voice was as cold and sharp as an icicle. "What apostles? I don't believe Christ had apostles, not even Saint Peter. Those men were all liars and charlatans who pretended to follow Christ and speak in his name. And they built a Church upon their lies."

He abandoned Chapuys, who crossed himself in shock, without any further words and went on with his business.

The two Thomases that would decide upon England's fate and faith were once again facing each other. Their eyes met in the council chamber as they were just about to change places as the aide of the King.

"Cromwell," the elder Thomas greeted the leaving secretary with little interest. He knew not that he was facing his worst enemy right now.

"Sir Thomas," the King turned to him as soon as the secretary had left.

More bowed. "Your Majesty?"

"I must tell you, I have received a petition from the members of the House of Commons complaining of the cruel behaviour and abuses of the prelates and the clergy," the King announced. "Thomas, people are asking for freedom from clerical rule."

More nodded. "Your Majesty knows very well that I have always condemned the abuses of the clergy when they have been brought to light. As your Chancellor, I have worked hard to eliminate them and purify our Holy Church."

"But…?"

"You know where I stand," More said gravely. He saw the annoyed look in his sovereigns face, yet still he went on. "You've always known. I cannot condone this newfangled vision of private belief and personal grace. For me, the Church is the permanent and living sign of God's presence. It is a visible, palpable community!" He almost spat out his last words. "Not just a few brethren gathering in secret rooms."

Henry followed More's steps as the man walked away from him. "Then you will speak against me?"

"My loyalty and love for Your Majesty is so great that I will never say a word against you in public. So help me God."

He left behind his stupefied King without another word. In his mind, the words of a certain duke of Norfolk echoed over and over again. Indignatio princeps mors est.

The King rose from his chair without the twitch of an eye. He had just been declared Supreme Head of the Church and clergy of England as far as the law of Christ allows.

Bloody caveat, he grumbled into himself as he passed by the priests and noblemen. Bloody Bishop Fisher, how dare he speak against me? I had expected More to be troublesome, but not some obscure little cleric! It is your entire fault that they added this stupid sentence. It is your fault that it was only decided by silence. Qui tacet considere videtur, he who remains quiet is seen to agree. As if! The bloody Bishop has stirred up doubts in my people about my supremacy, and they will spread like pest plants! And Archbishop Warham, why has he followed the pesky bishop? Has he suddenly developed a conscience? Damn it, I will make sure they drop the addendum quickly. I will not be their puppet or the Pope's or the Emperor's or anyone else's anymore! I am an anointed king, how dare they think they can meddle with my affairs as if I was nothing but a feeble child? They will see me for what I really am, and they will learn to fear me!