Author's Notes - Alright, so you know what? I've decided against trying to form any kind of timeline for this story. I know I said that this story probably takes place in 1533, but I'm not holding to that per se. I want to give Henry and Katherine a child, most likely a son finally, in this story but even lowering their age difference wasn't much help. Histoically, Katherine had six pregnancies altogether, the last of which tragically was a very weak daughter in Nov of 1518. By 1525, she was no longer able to bear children. Well, to heck with that! This is fiction and more importantly, my story, which means I can do what I please and to hell with history!

Also, I know I often depict Katherine at prayer. She was a very devout woman. You must remember that she was the daughter of two Catholic monarchs, so likely had it pounded into her head from the time she was a small child. She was even nominated as a Defender of the Faith, much like Henry was for denying Martin Luther's arguements. So, yeah, she'll likely be praying quite often throughout the course of this story.

Also, I'd like to send a big hug to all my reviewers, new and old alike. You guys rock! And thank you to everyone who has read this story, even if you don't leave a review. I know there has to be plenty of you, because this story has over 5k in page views.

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As was her usual routine Katherine awoke, let her ladies help her dress and went to her private chapel alongside her rooms. Twining her rosary through her fingers, she knelt before the Virgin and began to pray. No more than a few moments into her prayers, a sudden wave of nausea hit her from nowhere. What was the matter with her? She wondered, fighting it down with no small amount of difficultly before finishing her prayers somewhat hastier than was her usual wont. Making the sign of the cross, she murmured a blessing before heading back to her rooms to break her fast. At the sight of the small feast laid on the table, she couldn't fight off the nausea fast enough. Covering her mouth with a hand, she was quickly handed a chamber pot.

"Are you well, Majesty?" one of her ladies questioned hesitantly, gently wiping her face with a damn cloth before handing her a glass of watered wine. "Shall I send for Dr. Linacre?"

"No, thank you, Mistress Seymour but that won't be necessary," Katherine replied after a few moments, gently sipping at the wine in order to remove the taste of bile from her mouth. Could she be...? Privately, she had her doubts on whether she would ever bear another child. She'd been pregnant six times, with her daughter Mary being her only child to survive. When Henry had stopped visiting her bed, she'd despaired of ever even having the chance to try to bear him a prince. Now that his obsession with that Boleyn girl was over, he'd been visiting almost like clockwork. She hardly dared to even hope but it would be the only thing that could possibly explain what was going on with her. Here lately, she'd been growing fatigued, with occasional bouts of nausea. Nothing to worry about, she figured, thinking maybe it was just the stress of the past months catching up to her. She'd prayed for so long that she would be able to bear a son to be the living image of his father that it was hard to believe she may very well be carrying one even now.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Majesty?" Jane questioned hesitantly, her eyes gazing at her lady worriedly. She hadn't been in Queen Katherine's service very long, but already had learned the queen's routine. Usually, Katherine would pray for several hours, leaving her ladies to their sewing for the poor. To see her rush out of the chapel and promptly get sick had the young woman worried. Privately, she hoped that the queen was with child and would bear a son, forcing the king's attention back to his wife for good. The ladies had all been ashamed to say that Anne Boleyn had once been among their number and sought to put bring the queen down. They were not here to catch the king's eye, but to serve their queen and hopefully make a good match at court. "Should I send for his majesty?"

After a moment's hesitation, Katherine nodded. "Yes," she said slowly, her hand moving involuntarily towards her still-flat stomach. As the young lady curtsied and scurried off to find the king, all Katherine could think was, Please, God, let this not be a dream. Let me give Henry a living son.

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"Lady Jane Seymour, your Majesty."

"Mistress Seymour," Henry greeted cordially, acknowledging her curtsey with a nod. The young woman had only come into Katherine's service recently, but he'd made it a point to know the names of the ladies that served his wife. "You bring a message from your mistress?"

"Yes, Majesty," Jane replied, keeping her eyes cast downward. "Her Majesty requests to see you, at your earliest convenience."

That was unusual. Katherine hardly ever requested to see him, usually seeking him out herself when she wanted to spend time with him. "Is Her Majesty well?" He finally ventured, his curiosity stoked. He'd been in a foul mood earlier, a letter from the Boleyn's having arrived and questioning when he might come see his daughter. He'd raged about their impertinence to Suffolk, wondering aloud who they thought they were to practically demand he come see his bastard child. Just because he'd chosen to acknowledge the child did not mean he wanted to see her or her mother. His sister had looked like she wanted to smack him again, and even Brandon had looked at him askance. He'd left their presence in a rage, and was now finally calming down. Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself that he would at least like to look upon his new child but he would do it on his terms.

"Her Majesty simply requested for your presence, Sire. She seemed well, however," Jane finally settled on replying, knowing how badly the king feared sickness. You did not have to be at court long to know how badly the king dreaded any kind of illness.

Henry scrutinized the young lady before him, sensing there was more to the story than she was letting on. Ah, well, he mused to himself. I will simply ask Katherine when I see her. Aloud, all he said was, "Very well, Mistress Seymour. You may tell her Majesty I will be there shortly."

He watched as she curtsied, with a murmured, "Your Majesty," as she took her leave. What on earth was going on with Katherine? He wondered to himself, frowning slightly in thought as he gazed down at the parchment that would state he officially recognized his bastard daughter as his offspring. Maybe he should see her first, before putting his name and seal to the parchment? There had been rumors of course, of her behavior with and towards various gentlemen but at the time, he'd disregarded them. Anne had sworn they weren't true, that the people who spoke these rumors were simply trying to poison him against her. In the end, it hadn't been the rumors that poisoned him against her, but rather her temper. The way she flew into an almost incoherent rage when she'd discovered Katherine was still making his shirts had been the final straw in a way.

He'd cared about Anne but it paled in comparison to the way he truly felt about Katherine. He hadn't realized just how much he still cared for his wife until that night. She'd graciously held herself above it all, never once losing her temper the way Anne so often did time and again. She'd even accepted the fact that he'd sired a bastard with Anne, calmly telling him to at least acknowledge the child as he'd done with his son, little Henry Fitzroy. With a sigh, he threw down his quill. This could wait until after he'd seen the girl Anne had bore. For now, he had to see his wife.

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"His Majesty, the King!"

Her ladies in waiting all rose and curtsied as Henry strode into the queen's chambers. "Sweetheart," he greeted warmly, eyes alighting on Katherine who rose with a smile. "You wished to see me, darling?"

"Yes," she replied, grasping his hands in hers with a gentle squeeze. "You may leave us," she directed at her ladies, who curtsied again and took their leave.

"Is everything alright? Mistress Seymour seemed worried when she came to me with your request," he told her as he led her to the chair she'd been occupying as he'd walked in. Making sure she was comfortable, he brought another chair closer and sat in it himself.

"I'm fine, Henry," she agreed, the smile never leaving her face. "In fact, I believe I have some most welcome news."

"Oh? What is it, sweetheart?" he questioned, sitting forward. His gaze fell to her hand which had once again made its way to her stomach. She'd done the same thing numerous times when she was… "You're with child?" he questioned slowly, looking up to meet her eyes.

"I think so," she told him, her smile growing at the obvious love evident in his eyes. "I had begun to believe it was simply the stress of these last few months, but now I'm almost certain."

Falling from the chair to his knees, Henry laid his head in her lap. "We must have you examined by Dr. Linacre. Has the child quickened?"

"No, not yet," she told him, one hand gently combing through his hair. "God willing, I hope this will be our son."

Our son, Henry thought, raising a hand to cover hers on her stomach. Please, God, give us a son. Give me a second chance.