A/N:

I know it is a short chapter but it is to emphasize that I am sorry for those who love happy endings! but troubles are ahead and nop I am not telling the ending so just have to wait and see, but it is not cheerful 100% if that is what you expect or miserable melodramatic or soap opera style like hollywood as you would expect. There is one surprise that you may or may not like, and it may ruin one of your favorite characters and may not like him or her anymore.

Who it is?

Thanks to all of my reviewers.

Review!!


Chapter #28: "Innocence lost and Bad Dreams"

Lisa: It's so sad that Krusty is ashamed of his roots.

Homer: Marge, it happened again.

Bart: What are you going to change your name to when you grow up?

Lisa: Lois Sanborne.

Bart: Steve Bennett.

--

"I used to remember once; and I think I now remember as it was yesterday … when my father and mother first appeared to me in a nightmare … it was the firs time."

Thomas was walking, no he was running! It was all dark and silent, no crickets, no birds, no sound. It was all like the nightmare painted by some sick artist waiting for the trapped one to become insane. But Thomas had already become insane, in this dream the walls of the night sky and the hollow stars and the silent screams of the wind were making him loose his mind.

And then …

He heard a woman singing … she was singing a familiar song, a very familiar song he remembered from his childhood.

"Come little children … in a world of play and fun, here in the land of magic … I want to play and let you see … creation (paused)" –The woman who was singing and drawing Thomas towards her path; turned to Thomas and smiled, just like his –mother's smile.

His mother.

"Tommy …" She said to him before she turned into a dusty figure that crumbled before his eyes. He cried like a little boy and went to retrieve his mother's dead remain, all turned into dust. Mommy! –he heard himself saying, in the voice of his childhood; bathing himself in his mother's dusty corpse the air blew all the dust around his body. And he felt disgusted and so unworthy to stand in front of his mother at the state he was in.

He was weak, he always had been; and just now he merely recognized, having to kneel in front of her while he kissed his fingers that were stained by dust and blood.


Outside Hatfield.

Thirty Miles NorthWest:

Noon.

"No!" He woke up, afraid and panicked but then he looked besides him and found little Mary, sound asleep. 'The poor girl' –he thought, she was only [barely] eight and she had already suffered enough. "When would this madness end?" -he thought.

He was afraid when he had found Mary Roper on the forest, nearly dead, and drained; missing for two days the girl had nearly died, and it had been his and Anne's fight that had been so close from causing it. She had taken a rough time getting adjusted to the idea that her grandfather was not dead, and that her mother –at long last– was not coming back.

Anne had tried; as long as she could, to debate with him and keep her from him, but in the end it was him that won. He had taken Mary from Anne and brought her into a separate hide-out, one where he could keep watch of her. Her beautiful blond hair, and her emerald eyes were all that was left of her beauty, the other which once he believed [when he was a man of Faith] was her soul, was now tarnished and unclean by the harsh stricken reality that had come to slap her directly in the face in one of her most happiest moments on the infant Princess' Household.

She had been so happy there, yet she did not belong there. She belonged for a while in a place where she could be safe. And that was with him. He knew that Anne would be angry and search secretly for the girl, but it didn't matter. He just wished to have little Mary for a while, before he was pulled from her like her mother had been pulled from his protective breast.

He bent over and let his arm slide across her back, touching with the other some parts of her loose blondish hair; he kissed her forehead with his lips making the small eight year old stir in annoyance. Hushing her it seemed to calm her, yet her small tranquil face still kept the same serenity, with no emotion spoken on her small facial features.

Thomas More, once a man who would have rejoiced in his granddaughter's company and she in his; now left her alone and locked the door behind him, making sure that she would not get away and throwing away all sharp objects or those in potential use of damage in the hands of a sadden child.

"Sleep … Meg" –He whispered, not realizing he had spoken, for the second time this week; the name of his dead little girl. In his eyes, despite that he hated God, he saw Margaret as a little girl who never ceased to be little, always childish –claiming innocence and seeing the world with different eyes than what the heart of ambitious Anne and Katherine had seen.

Thomas knew that both not Anne and Katherine were the salvation of the future, that were just silly and naïve ignorant approaches from people. They were Queens, women and nothing more than common people.