A/N:

HeY aS I promiSED Another chapter and one updated tomorrow

Thanks to AestheticNarcissist for her great reviews. Thanks girl! Read her new story again I recommend it, and visit us all the authors at the forums, is great and also great challenges for you.

Chapter#36: Body and Soul

"The body is a prison for a soul" –The Fountain (2006)

--

(1536)

Tower of London.

Prisoner: Anne Boleyn.

It was true, now there was no escape. Anne was bound to die, she knew it; she felt it. But how could this ever happen?

When had it become a law that men could eat other men's souls –and women- for the sake of their vanity?

Anne Boleyn-Tudor was no fool, she well knew that many others in the past had killed their wives or divorced them, for failure to produce a male heir, under the fear that it could weaken the King's power, but, what did Henry have to lose? –If he already had an heir, two if she took into account that one was still alive and out there, probably rejoicing in the moment they would cut out her head –or if she was guilty of sin in the King's eyes, burn alive like in her dreams.

Mary must be rejoicing –her mind whispered, and be in some far-away place, Spain or the Netherlands; screaming of joy like a vulture waiting to tare through a poor dead woman's flesh.

Anne never considered herself worth of pity, in fact, she hated pity! Pity was for her enemies, for those she was sorry off that they could not be different, or doomed.

Pity was for the weak and for the sinners, for those condemned forever in Eternal damnation.

Not for her, not for Anne Boleyn-Tudor. She refused pity from anyone, yet her inner self told her that maybe there would be many sympathizers at last in her cause, and those who had repudiated her –would finally watch and see, understand that she did what no other would have done if they would've been in her place.

What was she to do? She had spoken to Cranmer, and he said they were already making preparations for the feast, announcing the King's betrothal. His first to Jane Seymour, who was now to take the position of wife and Consort of Henry, but unlike her, he would not turn her into Queen until he was sure it was his male heir –and Prince, she carried on her belly.

Elizabeth was to be named a bastard, now it was only a matter of time before the clock started ticking, and hit the end game, she lost … she was dead already, all they needed was the sword that Master Kingston had said the King was amiable enough to hire a good Swordsman to end her sorrow.
She was fond, somewhat, of Master Kingston, he had been a man who at first was cold and indifferent to her as she imagined he was to any prisoner, but later he became close, keeping watch that everything would be prepared well enough at her orders for her death.

He had said to some of his colleagues, -unbeknownst to her- that he had never met a truly more Valiant and fearless Lady at the face of death. Many men and women –he said, had passed through these gates, the gates he was Master and Protector of, yet none had displayed more courage and will to die, to face death without fear –but acceptance- yearning in prayer, and in her devout faith to the Lord, wishing it could be under a huge crowd and all to see that death was only temporarily, nothing to fear about.

Greenwich

King's Apartments:

Henry was yearning the moment where his "marriage" to Anne Boleyn would be declared null and void, as the previous one who also involved a woman he had loved so much, but lied to him and hurt him what was worse, in his gut when she refused to accept his proposals of bringing her a better life.

Now with her –it would not be the same. He was not willing to make deals now, it had cost him dearly in the past, and the last thing he wanted was to be looked upon like a fool. He would rather see that instead of a lamb or a Sheppard, they would see a Lion in Henry, one whose roar could take every opponent, even the woman he had fought for arduously for seven long years to bed her.

"Come in" He called as he heard a knock from his Outer Chamber.

He came in dressed, in his finest clothing to see who was at the door. To his nuisance, it was the Lady Ambassador [a name she had earned by all her peers at the English Court, after seeing how ruthless she could be with the members of Parliament] Contreras, who came with the Ambassador Chapuys, who was no happier to be at her side, and vice-versa.

"Your Grace … and Lady" He would address the recent addition of Spain to English shores with a title, for all he knew she was just another thorn in his back wanting to haunt him.

He vowed never to let himself get tricked by another woman, even in Politics.

"What do you come here to discuss Ambassador?"

Chapuys stepped forward, knowing who the King was addressing. But Contreras got –like before- a step ahead of him, "Your Majesty, it is in our Countries best interest that Your Grace is satisfied. For the sake of our past relation the Emperor wishes to have another chance in establishing again the past negotiations between the Peace of Two Great Monarchs, as was done before in the battle against France."

Henry at the mention of France grew irritated. Chapuys in the back of his mind, only wished he could smile in the face of Contreras while she would be nailed for her arrogance and plain speaking ways. He had nothing against women, unlike other men. Chapuys never thought it wrong for a woman to rule, but he served Spain yet his views did not conflicted with his politics in his Country, most of the times; but he did wish sometimes that like Moore had been in the past, he would see a better world, one where a more just King would not care that his first child and Legitimate heir was a woman, so she could inherit the throne as it should have been her right of any firstborn, male or not to inherit.

Yet, alas those were thoughts not to be spoken for this age and times. He would rather shut his tongue and let the men and women squabble with themselves. It was after all, some relief to know that Her Grace, the Princess Mary was safe and sound and away from all this. He had grown to really love that child like it was his own, even though he never had children before, but Mary had warmed up his heart, something no other man or woman (except perhaps the Queen –Katherine of Aragon) had done this effect on him before.

He was pulled from those thoughts as he saw Contreras answer, once again managing to bring another headache to Chapuys. He swore one more day with that infernal, close minded fool dog … he would murder himself after he stabbed her.

"You defy me with word games my Lady?" The King said amused, but angry at the same time that this woman dared to defy the King and sole sovereign of England and the Church.

"I do not defy a King Your Majesty, I am merely saying what I know is what Your Grace wants to hear. For the sake of both I do not plead but let myself be heard King of Kings … you are Immortal you said once to my fellow Ambassador, and so you have become, yet if you plan to marry Jane Seymour then why not let us cut formalities now! –And speak with truth that it seems Chapuys here was not able to do" Chapuys looked at the woman coldly as she was staring deep in his eyes.

Henry would not stand this! The King of England would not stand this, it was just too much. He invited them unto his home, offered them food and very nice shelter, and now this was how they repaid him? He guessed it was just a Spanish trait, for once he thought that Anne was right when all Spaniards should sink at the bottom of the sea … all of them!

With one swish of his robes, he turned to leave, but Lady Contreras loud voice stopped him. "Do not leave a commoner my Lord, I beseech you as the low filth from where I come from to speak, so let me speak as it is a request and not a command like Chapuys let yourself be assumed many times. I come for peace, I give out peace."

No commands, no insinuations, this Ambassador was very smart and Henry felt that he had met someone who could par with him, and he would never shut up this woman like he had done with countless men, Ambassadors from his own Council times before.

Contreras smiled, but it disappeared when Henry came back walking in her direction.

"What does the Emperor humbly requests?"

"It is you Sire, You the Great of all Kings." She spoke soundly, with formality yet unlike Chapuys, without cuddle, steam or licking his boots, it was cold short but with great diplomacy and some mix of affection that was a mask to hide away her true interests.

It was no doubt that this woman's heart held more secrets than any other of his wives, and he intended to find out someday what those secrets were. For now he and the two Ambassadors talked, while Contreras taking control of the Political floor, made an agreement with Henry that on the word of her Emperor, he would never invade England, just as long as he would secure the More from being invaded with Boleyn supporters, which Contreras told the King –thanks to Cromwell and others, that so far they had counted many.

Even if the Infanta (she avoided using terms like Princess Dowager or Queen) of Spain had pledge to the Oath and said sympathetic opinions to both religions, it was only from a point of view those who wanted to hurt her, that they would see this as double crossing or fake, and resort to many ways of ending what they called her influence against their Queen –Boleyn.

Henry assured that he would see that she, the woman who had bewitched him and lied to him as much as one before her would never use her witchcraft to inflict damage on innocents.

--

Hours later …

--

They left and Henry told his Guards if they could be outside for a few minutes, that he needed a time alone.

It was a battle of what and what not to do inside of Henry's mind. Recently –he hadn't told anyone, except Charles- he had received letters, information that the answer to his old mentor's murder was not in Katherine or Fisher, but rather in Hever. The old Residence of the Boleyns. So one day prior to sending order to arrest his wife and her father, as well as lovers, he rode to Kent and when he, Charles and others stormed through Hever Castle, they found on one of the many chests of the Boleyns; not only paintings and old pieces of inheritance, some old from when the family was still merchant, and some new, granted with new favors as the family rose up to Power –thanks to Anne, he thought bitterly, her name being the thorn again in his spine-, a small stack of papers.

Mainly dates, ledgers with numbers or so. Cromwell who had been close wished not to speak the truth to His Majesty, but what was in the Ledger belonged to the recently deceased –George Boleyn. The former Queen's brother, in it he said that on the night not so long ago, barely a year had passed and he still could not sleep at night when besides his blessing [as he called her] in Margaret's womb kept him worried sick that she might be the mother's tool of vengeance against what happened to her family. The other worry was that his father's sins had come back to haunt him, countless nights he said he dreamt –according to the account of his father and uncle- of how the wheels pushed through the babe of Sir Thomas' eldest daughter, her body crumbling and squashed by her aunt's body and her step-grandmother's.

The more Henry heard, and the more he found of evidence, interviewing all of the members there, not by torture but by pain of death and those sort of threats they talked, he found that all this time he was the sole responsible for his mentor's death!

Thomas had died because of him, he had said he would never again speak against the 'Matter' of his marriage to Anne and dissolving Katherine's, he in addition said after his friend turned to leave that he would hold him to that promise.

Cold words to say, but how could he have known what he was marrying. He was right when he told Anne that she and all her family, even that brat who had Moore's blood running through her veins, were foul and cruel, she was never he had said to her, what she appeared or pretended to be. She lied to him, injured him and betrayed him, and that was a serious offense for what she must pray and also for her father's crimes.

A knock from the door woke him up from his thoughts.

"I said I did not wish to be disturbed!" He declared.

He walked towards his bed. Another knock.

"I said I do not want to be disturbed! Can't you heart that or are you deaf?"

Another knock.

He threw his glass of wine in rage, and growled.

Opening the door, "How dare you, you ass-" he stopped almost dead as he saw the face of his old friend and mentor staring back at him with cold eyes.

A/N: I think you know why I put the quote there, in a way they all think themselves ad dead men, and Thomas Moore thinks himself as dead without a soul, chapuys if you read between the lines relates back to the soul, he loves katherine and some philosphers considered that this was what made us human what gave us the esscence, who some said was our soul.

As some philosophies, it could only be released upon death, and so now this phrase comes more into effect with Anne Boleyn who does no longer fear death, as her spirt or soul will rise and she believes that Elizabeth will be safe. Now those of you who are now betting the end will be like TBPII mmm? Well It will be different Enjoy shocker ahead too