Chapter 14 – Before The Storm: Anne paced her room – well, her and Jane's, technically – with her eyes blazing and her expression dark. "I can't believe this! For months he's insisted on being more and more open about what we are to each other, and now, at Christmas, I am to be banished!"

"It's not banishment," Edward cut in, reasonable as always. "You'll be holding Christmas in your new London home of Durham House, and the King will come to you as soon as he can. God knows half the court will follow him. He's only doing this for the sake of appearances, on the advice of his lawyers. It's not a bad thing; in fact it's more proof that he's serious. He won't let any risk come to his case for the Legatine Court."

"Assuming the court ever convenes," George said sardonically. "What's Campeggio doing, anyway? Is he really ill, or just playing games?"

"Probably both," Anne said. "But it's still not right. I'm being sent away like a shameful secret! Campeggio hasn't deigned to see me, and now this!"

"He can't see you, Anne," Jane put in. "Officially, you have nothing to do with this. The King is basing all his arguments on the invalidity of his marriage, but he's pretending that if he could, he'd stay with Katherine. It's a sham and everyone knows it, but he feels that he has to do it. For official purposes, I guess."

"You shouldn't worry," Edward jumped back into the conversation. "Trust me, this is actually a good sign. Shoring up the technicalities means that the case will be stronger, and that's exactly what we all want." Though he would never practice, Edward's course of study had been law, since religion, while an interest of his, wouldn't be quite as useful. Anne knew that, but even so, nothing any of her siblings said was as comforting as they meant it to be.

"It's just... I'm not his mistress," she said quietly. "I do not take him to my bed, I'm as much a maid now as I was when I left home for France all those years ago. But this treatment makes me feel a harlot, even though I am not. And it isn't fair."

She sighed, shaking her head. "And I'm starting to wonder if Father and Uncle aren't right about Wolsey. Campeggio's his friend, isn't he? So why can't he make Campeggio cooperate? I can't see why he'd be so foolish as to defy the King, unless he thinks he can wait Henry out, that I'll lose the King's love in time. Everyone thinks that, from the Queen down, but I know that won't happen, so they're all fools."

George and Jane exchanged worried looks, but Edward didn't even glance at them, his gaze intent on Anne. "Anne... This isn't just about love. You do know that, don't you?"

She whirled on him. "Whose side are you on!" she demanded.

"I'm sure Edward didn't mean anything by that," Jane said hurriedly, shooting her brother a quelling look that he ignored.

"I'm on your side, Anne," he continued, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. "Truly, I am. But the fact is, if the Queen had given him a son, love or not, he'd never divorce her to marry you, invalid dispensation or no. So it's not just about love."

Anne opened her mouth to retort, but then closed it again. She sighed, sinking down onto the side of her bed, next to Jane. "I know that, thank you ever so much," she said, her voice still holding an edge, but a more tired one now. "I'm just not sure that I can take much more of this."

Jane put an arm around her sister's shoulder. "It's going to be fine, Anne," she said, her voice soothing. "The King will get his annulment, and then you'll be Queen. It's going to be just fine, if you can just be patient."

Even as she said it, Jane wasn't sure she believed it, and Anne wasn't sure if she was telling the truth either.

Ann wasn't entirely sure what to think about what Ursula had just told her. "You're sure?" she asked urgently, eyes dark. This was a potential problem for her mistress, if one of the King's most trusted friends was against her.

Ursula nodded. "I'd hardly mistake him, he's one of the few at court who doesn't peacock around in whatever colors he can. Well, him and Cromwell," she added after a moment's thought. "It's definitely trouble then?"

"I'm not sure," Ann admitted honestly. "I guess it depends if his support becomes public rather than private, but I really don't know. I'll mention it to Sir Edward, though, and that way it's at least going to be known by the whole family."

Ursula raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what I don't understand? Why it is that you're still going to the elder Seymour brother with your information."

Ann shrugged, feeling herself tense up. Ursula wasn't just her friend; they were relatives. Their grandmothers had been sisters, and Ursula had lived in the Stanhope home for several years. They knew each other very well, and so this conversation wasn't a total surprise. "He was the easiest to approach, thanks to his friendship with Michael," she said. And it was even true.

Ursula raised an eyebrow. "True enough. But now that you've begun a tentative friendship with the Lady Anne, wouldn't it make more sense to start telling these things directly to her?"

Ann shook her head. "I think it makes more sense to keep to the pattern I've begun."

The blonde shook her head. "Well, to be perfectly honest, I think that's ridiculous. If you want your mistress to see you as loyal, you should go to her directly, and you're more than capable of realizing that. So, Ann, what are you doing?"

Ann didn't answer, and didn't need to, since Ursula was signaled by one of the other ladies in the Queen's household, and had to go. The brunette told herself she wasn't relieved, even as her eyes scanned the room for Edward. She had to share what Ursula had told her, and quickly. It could be serious.

Seeing him, once again, being pushed into dancing by his older sister, she smiled to herself and maneuvered so that she would be partnered with him – Mary, it seemed, was only trying to make her brother socialize, since she took up a place with her husband. Edward raised an eyebrow when he saw who his partner was. "Mistress Ann."

"Sir Edward." She bit her lip, debating how to proceed, and then continued to speak, though not in English. Her brother's mother had been Irish, and Michael had learned Gaelic, in turn teaching it both to his sister, and, he'd mentioned, to his best schoolfriend. "My brother says he taught you to speak Gaelic, yes?"

"He did, that's true. Why do you ask?"

"My friend in the Queen's household told me something today. She had the chance to overhear a conversation about strategy between the Queen and Bishop Fisher."

"We already know what their strategy is to be, it's obvious," Edward replied, before spinning her out and away from him, as the dance required.

When they were close enough to talk quietly again, Ann continued, "Yes, of course. But what you do not know is who brought Fisher to speak with the Queen."

"And who was that?"

"Sir Thomas More."

His hand tightened on hers. "What? Are you sure?"

Edward was just as aware of the possible trouble here as she was, probably more so. Ann could see it in his eyes when she tells him she's sure. But then it was so obvious. A man like More, someone with the King's trust and a level of international respect, actively working against the Boleyn cause? That was not good news.

"So long as he isn't public about it, it should be all right," Ann heard Edward mutter to himself, his words English again as he'd probably not meant to say them aloud. Then he looks at her again, pale eyes sharp. "You know, I still don't understand why you keep telling me these things."

Ann shrugged. "You do keep asking me that, don't you? Well, I suppose you're owed an answer. The simple one is that I think your side is the better bet in this, that's all."

"And the complicated answer?"

"Too complicated to explain," she replied sweetly.

Pulling her in, he raised an eyebrow. "Somehow I doubt that. Are you trying to offer your services as a spymaster?"

"If you like," she said with a wicked smirk, which hid the thoughts flashing through her mind. What am I doing, Ursula? Would you believe me if I said I wasn't even sure anymore?

Christmas at court was noticeably tense. The Queen had begun the holiday in high spirits, thinking that the absence of Anne Boleyn was a good sign, only to find out how wrong she was when the King treated her with cold, formal politeness. Now, well...

Now she had been kneeling before her prie-dieu for hours, and her ladies had been forced to kneel with her. Jane Parker, among them, was really beginning to wish that the Queen would finish her prayers – her legs were starting to cramp up. Even worse, it felt like a torment to be here when everyone knew that the King and his gentlemen had left for Lady Anne's Durham House as quickly as was decent, and that there were true holiday revels there.

She didn't understand why Cat Grey, the girl she shared a bedchamber with, was here. Cat, the lucky thing, was betrothed to George Boleyn, who was handsome enough that Jane had wished she could be his future wife instead. Cat had the perfect excuse to follow the king, but she didn't. Jane wondered why, and then she saw the way Cat watched Queen Katherine.

Ah. Well then. The court was rotten with spies anyway, what was one more? Jane certainly didn't care what her fellow ladies did as long as it didn't affect her. She was here for one reason and one reason only, to make something of herself. The way to do that was to catch a husband, but Jane hoped for more than that. She was hoping for an ambitious man, someone she could scheme and plot with. She was the daughter of a titled man, but her father was of only modest means. Jane was his heiress, but even so, there were richer, prettier girls out there. She wouldn't net the best catch, not even with her hint of royal blood that made her a cousin to King Henry.

It didn't matter, though. If she could find the right man, a man who wanted to rise as much as she did and didn't care how he did it, a man who could use her inheritance to start them off, well... Then she would have all she needed.

Cat wasn't a fool. She knew Jane Parker was watching her, but she didn't care either. Her job was to keep an eye on the Queen for her father-in-law, whatever she felt about the situation herself. And to be honest, she didn't know how she felt. The King needed a son, that was simple fact, but...

Cat had seen the Queen stand up to her so-called counsel, and had been filled with admiration. Katherine of Aragon was a true royal, and though her future sister-in-law Anne was graceful and lovely, Cat knew that the other woman could never be Katherine's equal in that way. Of course, if one were to be honest, the King himself wasn't the Queen's equal in that regard either.

But it didn't matter, in the end. What the King wanted, he would have, one way or another. And he needed an heir, no one really wanted the Princess Mary except for her mother, perhaps the girl herself, and probably the Emperor. It wasn't fair, but practically speaking, the Queen shouldn't be fighting. She should be securing the best possible deal for herself and the greatest level of security for Mary. It was what Cat would do, if she were the one in the way of what the King wanted.

So she kept her eyes open and her mouth shut, until she was called before her father-in-law. She couldn't stand him, but she had a duty to him. It wouldn't be forever; one day her husband would be the head of the family, and one thing she could say about George was that he had real blood in his veins rather than ice water.

The last of the wakeful ladies, aside from the always-loyal Anne Clifford and Elizabeth Darrell, was Ursula Misseldon, who was even more a spy than Cat. After all, hadn't she been pressed into service for two entirely different people? Ann was fine; they were old friends and she knew that Ann was, to some extent, playing the game for both of them. If Lady Anne won, Ursula's indirect help would gain her a place in the new Queen's household if she wanted it. If she wasn't married and secure by then.

But Thomas Cromwell... He was another matter entirely, wasn't he? He approached her three weeks ago, told her bluntly that he knew she was telling her friend Mistress Stanhope everything that went on in the Queen's rooms. He had no objection to that, he said, no reason to object; he simply wanted her to extend the same courtesy to him.

Ursula wasn't stupid. If she'd said no, he would have told the appropriate people about her duplicity, and she'd have been out on her ear – if not worse. So there had been no choice, really. It wasn't like things had changed, she was still doing exactly the same thing, only now she was reporting twice.

What bothered her was the way she hadn't even been able to consider saying no, because there was something about Cromwell and the way he'd watched her that made it impossible for her to do so.

Henry Fitzroy was getting to be a big boy now, with friends who called him Harry, a nickname that showed he was one of them even though they were all older. And because he was older, he was allowed to see his Papa for Christmas. He missed Mama, since she usually visited for Christmas, but this was exciting.

He was a little confused about not being at court much, though. He'd seen his Papa at court, but now he was at another house, bowing in front of his Papa and a woman he didn't know. She was pretty – almost as pretty as his Mama, which was very pretty since no one was as pretty as Mama. Papa lifted him up so that Harry could sit on his lap, and the lady smiled at him. He liked her smile; it was a little shy, like he was, but it met her eyes.

"Harry, this is Lady Anne Boleyn. She's going to be my wife soon."

Harry scrunched up his face in confusion. "But I thought you were already married, Papa."

His father's face went all funny for a moment, and Lady Anne laid a hand on his arm. "You see, Lord Harry," she said gently, "there was a mix-up, and your papa isn't really married at all. So we're just waiting for people to fix it."

Harry blinked and nodded, not saying the first thing that came to his mind; why couldn't Papa marry Mama? But then, she was married too, and maybe there was nothing wrong with her marriage, even though his stepfather had nasty eyes.

At least Lady Anne Boleyn had nice eyes, even if there was something a little funny about the way she smiled. Maybe it was because she didn't have any children and didn't know how to be a mama or how to talk to children. He couldn't help but think that he'd like having her as a stepmother, much more than he liked his stepfather.

For her part, Anne had rarely felt less at ease than with Henry's little boy sitting on his father's knee, the boy's eyes, so much like Henry's, looking at her. He was a sweet child, seemingly unspoiled by his privileged lifestyle, but she didn't know how she felt about him. He was Henry's... talisman, in a way, more than a child. He was Henry's proof that his sonless marriage was not his doing.

What if Anne failed him the way Katherine did?

She told herself she wouldn't, but there was no real way to be certain, was there? Henry loved her, she believed that, but Edward's words held a real ring of truth. If Katherine had provided Henry with a son, Anne would never be anything but a mistress, maitresse en titre if she was lucky, no matter how much Henry loved her.

Harry Fitzroy, for all that he was just a child, was a symbol of Anne's almost-secret fears. It wasn't his fault, she knew that, but how was she supposed to accept the child when he was a pre-existing reprimand to any daughters she might have?

She would just have to try. Her stepmother had accepted her husband's children as her own; Anne could not dishonor the woman who was the only mother she'd ever known by doing any less.

Kate didn't know what to make of court, really. Her mother used to talk about it, now and then, and of course Princess Mary had technically presided over a miniature court at Ludlow, but this...

For one thing, the real Christmas celebrations weren't even at court. They were at Durham House, the home of... Well. And that was another thing.

Just who was Anne Boleyn? The King's future wife? His mistress? Both? Kate had heard different stories. Cathy Willoughby, an acquaintance from her days with Princess Mary, was here with her mother, a friend of Queen Katherine's. She said that Anne Boleyn was a whore who had bewitched the King. However, Kate's husband, Anthony, said that he thought Anne genuinely cared for the King, if her stepsister Jane's opinion was anything to go on.

Oh, and there was Jane herself. Who seemed to be Anthony's closest friend next to the King and the Duke of Suffolk. Kate wouldn't call herself jealous, as she was fond of Anthony but not in love with him, but her husband's closeness to another, unmarried woman did give her pause. She didn't know Jane Seymour, after all.

She didn't know anyone here, except Anthony, who was currently with his friend Brandon. They were talking in low voices over in the corner, it looked almost like an argument to her, but she couldn't guess what about.

"So you're Anthony's wife," said a pretty blonde with pale blue eyes, who took the seat next to her. "I'm Jane Seymour, and your name is Katherine, yes?"

"Kate," Kate corrected without thinking, and then she gave Jane Seymour a sharp look. "Is there something you wanted, Mistress Seymour?"

The other woman shrugged. "I'm curious about you. You're married to a man who feels almost like another brother to me, not that I need more of them. I have three, and two of them are troublemakers and the oldest is far too serious for his own good. But at any rate, I wanted to meet you, especially since you haven't been to court before, have you?"

"I was in the Princess Mary's household, but we never mingled with the court proper, not really, even before the Princess was sent to Ludlow," Kate said. "So no, I've never really been part of the court, even when the Princess lived there. But this isn't court, it's your sister's house." It was a risk to say so, but Kate was already sick of the games and the rumors. Wouldn't anyone just tell the truth?

Jane bit her lip, her eyes straying to where her sister sat, laughing with the King. "Hasn't Anthony explained all this to you?" she asked, her voice tight.

"He says that the King is putting aside his wife and will marry your sister instead. But they're not married yet; isn't this inappropriate?"

The wry, vaguely pitying smile she got in reply to that statement was insulting. "Lady Knivert, what's appropriate at court is what the King wants, whatever that is. You'll want to be careful, if you're to stay here with Anthony."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a warning. You're my friend's wife, and you seem like a decent sort, but you're going to get yourself in trouble if you don't learn that whatever the King wants is what he will have. It's the most important rule at court, any court."

From everything Anthony had told her, from all her mother's old stories, and from what Kate was seeing with her own eyes, she'd already guessed that much. And it was not a comforting thought in the slightest.

"So More is firmly on Fisher and Katherine's side. Well, if nothing else that makes him a temporary ally against Wolsey," Norfolk said thoughtfully. Boleyn glared at him.

"Between them, they could win this case for the Queen and destroy my daughter's chances at the throne!" he hissed, eyes flashing. He clearly should not have shared Edward's news with his former brother-in-law. "More won't ally with us or anyone, he considers himself too unsullied to play politics."

"I never said he'd know he was our ally," the other man commented silkily. "My point is simply that if Wolsey cannot secure the divorce now, his throat will be well and truly exposed, and we can go in for the kill. As for Anne... the King wants her, and your daughter is skilled enough in holding his attention that we can risk a little more time. We get rid of Wolsey, and then we get the divorce for the King. In the end, it all works to our advantage."

If Anne could keep the King long enough. If something didn't happen to ruin them all. As far as Boleyn was concerned, there were far too many ways which this could go wrong if the Great Matter was not decided by this Legatine Court. "We don't want the Queen to win," he said slowly. "But we do want the King to fear that she might. To suspect that Wolsey and Campeggio might support her against him, both of them together." Perhaps his brother-in-law wasn't such a fool after all. It could work, if the right balance were achieved.

"Exactly," Norfolk said, satisfaction in his voice. "More's an idealistic fool, and Fisher has a death wish, but they're both academically talented men, and their arguments will break the case Wolsey has set up, quite easily."

Neither man was aware of someone listening, and when the conversation turned from the trial to more mundane things, George crept away, silent until he reached his brother's room. Opening the door without bothering to knock, he slammed it behind him. Had it been Thomas, he would likely have been greeted with a volley of curses – and possibly the shriek of Tom's latest bedmate – but as it was Edward, all he got was a cool glance over the top of a book.

His older brother really did need to learn to enjoy life a little more.

"George. Is there a reason you're storming into my room at this time of night? You're lucky I'm not like Thomas."

George smirked, taking the time to tease his brother despite the news he'd come to share. "Oh no? Then what is going on with you and our sister's lovely attendant? She seems to have quite the rapport with you."

"Mistress Stanhope's brother is a schoolfriend of mine," Edward said evenly. "That's all."

"Oh, I'm sure," George drawled. "But as fun as teasing you about your new lady friend is, I've come by for something much more important. You told Father that Thomas More's been helping the Queen with her defense?"

"Ann told me," Edward said, and George noted the use of the woman's Christian name for use in teasing later. Then he focused on what his brother was saying. "I told Father because I thought he should know, and I'm going to warn Anne... in a few days. She was upset earlier, and the last thing we need is for her to be shaken up even more by news such as this."

"Father told my uncle Norfolk," George informed him. "He seems to think that this is a good thing, since if it looks like the Queen might win Wolsey's position is weakened."

"Well, he has a point, but it's a risky game to play when our futures hinge on the divorce going through."

"My thoughts exactly. But that's not all you're thinking, not with your vague comments about how things might go if the Pope won't give the King what he wants."

"What do you want, George? Just ask whatever it is you're wanting to know."

"You, Anne, and I are all interested in the reformed faith. You mentioned that Cromwell's spoken to you as well, and he is a reformer. My question is, do we focus on helping to bring down Wolsey, or the Church?"

The look in his brother's pale eyes told George everything he needed to know. Suddenly, this was about a lot more than changing a Queen. This was going to be about changing their entire world.

Well. At least it would be interesting.

A/N: Well, finally back, and I apologize. Writer's block struck again, as did alternate muses. I'm trying to juggle them all just now.