Disclaimer: I don't own everything, certainly not the Tudors, showtime that would make me more like God and a millionaire producer.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!

Here is the second update before I return to classes. I will update next week if not then rest assured I will not leave you waiting, an update will happen that is for sure before September when get to the great climax

"I think you got the best of me

You are sleeping with the enemy

You left me all alone

Alone, alone, alone …

The beats drops

I'm so low

My heart stops, I already know

You left me all alone

Alone, alone, alone …

I am sick and tired of the mess you made me

You are never going to catch me cry

You must be blind if you can't see

You'll miss me until the day you die

You are not right!
You are not fair!

You must be blind if you can't see
You'll miss me until the day you die

I've let go, finally over you

This drama, that you put me through

I'm better all alone

Alone, alone, alone …

The beat drops you are so low

It's last call, and its getting old

Now look who is all alone

Alone, alone, alone

I am sick and tired of the mess you made me

You are never going to catch me cry

You must be blind if you can't see

You'll miss me until the day you die

You are not right!

You are not fair!

You must be blind if you can't see

You'll miss me until the day you die

I trusted you

You were the first

Then you lied, and it gets worst

You broke me down

Now just look around

Who's all alone?

Who's all alone now?

I am sick and tired of the mess you made me

You are never going to catch me cry

You must be blind if you can't see

You'll miss me until the day you die.

You must be blind if you can't see

You'll miss me until the day you die

You are not right!
You are not fair!

Kesha -"Blind"


Hunsdson

Mary opened her eyes. Next to her was the warm body of Eustace Chapuys. It was late March, she could feel and smell the sweet aroma of spring by hearing the birds sing, and then the scent of the roses that came from her gardens, through her open window.

She looked at Eustace. He was sleeping soundly against the humming of the birds outside the cottage. I liked to call his home ours now. News had arrived a week ago that Philip had been severely injured, and that his life was hanging from a string, it was all in God's hands –Cranmer said.

Surprisingly Mary did not fret when he spoke about the option of giving the child away once it was born. He did not want to refer to it as a he or a she. It was best, he considered in his mind, if he avoided all thoughts pertaining to his lady's child. That was how he thought he would prevent himself from getting hurt, unlike the last time where he did not only fail to avoid attachment, but rather welcomed it when he took one step forward in his true son's baptizing, and took one good look that had been engraved into his mind, at the child that the Queen had in her arms.

It had been the more painful thing he had done in his life. To look at the child's eyes, his lady's eyes but the shape were as his, and the son that was his own flesh and blood when he looked in his direction, unlike the Princess' firstborn, he regarded him coldly and had an indifferent look when he met his father.

Out of all her children, it was Henry who became the more receptive to his father's affection, the Duke Philip.

Thinking about his offspring being raised amongst the foulest of this Country, made his blood boil.

He didn't know what was right or wrong anymore, and a pang of guilt invaded him making him feel hot, even if the weather at this time was not yet warm, that his conscience was constantly serving as a reminder of the other one he had slept with during his separation from his lady.

A man scorned he was not afraid of, a woman scorned especially one who meant so much to him, he had every reason to fear her wrath, or worse that she would become very disappointed with him and the image she had of him would break.

Maybe, his mind said that part of him that still held reason, that she discovers it now than later, that way you wouldn't have to worry about any fantasies she has of you.

He didn't like fantasies, all waste of time that she kept up making these delusions about him, thinking that he was some brave knight who was ready to break her chains from the evil dragon who was keeping her in the tower –what kind of man –a man, his conscience cried out to him, who claimed to loved her more than life itself- made her believe that he was noble and honest?

But then he answered back to his nagging conscience that it was not his fault. She had many times to see the truth. When Cromwell told her about the missing dowry that her loyal cousin –his master- failed to pay, that should have been warning enough that his motives for protecting her were not all selfless. In fact, nothing Eustace ever did was selfless, since the moment he got to England all he did was for his self advancement and to further his master's plans of enslaving the Princess to his side, Spain's side. That was the whole purpose of befriending her, the only reason why he began to speak of her in the first place.

Is that all?

If you were really working for your own interests then why did you refuse to give up your stubborn fight for her, when the Emperor and the Regent told you that they no longer had any interest in fighting for her cause?

Stop it! He bellowed to it. He wasn't keen on listening to his conscience this time, it was only a nuisance. Since his father had died he learned all it did was to make men abandon their reason and their good judgment. It made him more prone to acting rashly, solely on instinct rather than good logic.

Never, he had bowed when his father died, will I listen to it. Out of the misery he had suffered under the custody battle that was led because of him, in the courts against his mother, the only good advice his father's brothers gave him was never to listen to your instincts, bury them and destroy any feeling that get in the way of progress. It is better to feel nothing, then to have to lose everything you love –and feel regret.

For the longest period in his life, these words made no sense, but as he felt her stir, her head moving slightly away from his neck and to his shoulder, he realized they mode more sense now. He had risked his wealth, his position and his standing at the English Court for this woman, one who was away from his league and who would never come closer than to being his lover.

He had reduced her to this –she had become a whore. Because of him, his mind shouted. I made her this. He looked at her face covered by her dark auburn locks.

God, he thought, he did not deserve someone as beautiful and innocent as her.

Everything about her, made his soul rouse the fire that had been hidden since his father died, that fire that made him feel alive, that made him feel like his life was worth something again.

Mary had roused in him the feelings of love, hatred, passion, lust and everything that stood in between. He never thought he would find himself in the same bedchamber as the Princess, but aye life had a way of twisting things around.

His mother would always that life and God were all the same, that no matter how much you tried to escape from the Lord's will destiny will always come back to reclaim you. As far as he could remember he never believed in destiny, many heretics did but not him, for him it was just another excuse to justify people's action or feeling with the old saying 'it was meant to be'. There was no such thing as destiny as far as he knew, around the world he never saw or felt anything that made him believe in the slightest that this notion was true.

Fate, destiny they were false notions of the future. God gave men a choice the moment he put Jesus on this Earth to sacrifice himself for us, to redeem man kind of all their past and future sins. Yet mankind was evil, no matter how much men were forgiven by the Lord's sacrifice, they still needed to do penance for their future sins, because a sin not only affected you, it also affected those around you.

Mary, his Princess as he had gotten used to think about her, and no longer reject the notion that he was deeply, if not madly obsessed with this woman. She was different from other women. She did not want to conform herself like her favorite stepmother, Jane Seymour, with the life of a housewife, she yearned to see and feel more than just feel needed. She wanted to see others lusting after her, she was no different there than other women bored with their marriages, often to take care of their boredom they sought excitement by sleeping with other men and engaging in carnal relations.

He wondered now, if it was not hypocrite of him to call his Lady's sister's mother a concubine, a harlot when he had made of Mary a harlot herself?

No, he argued. She was different.

Mary was not a whore like Anne Boleyn or her other family members. She was a woman who had dignity, who had self respect for herself and especially for others, even if he still considered that many of the people she respected, did not deserve it –especially her sister whom he still considered something evil for she was born out of something evil, the union between her mother, a temptress, and her father a man Chapuys would rather not think about for his mind rang insults every time the name of Henry came up.

He brought his fingers to her auburn hair, playing with her curls and removing the strands that were covering her beautiful face.

Eustace did not care anymore if the King were to come and discover them, let them. Let the world see what kind of man the poor, old and crippled Ambassador, he was. Let the world laugh at Philip, and above let them call them sinners, for what was sin really in the end?

"Love: A temporary insanity curable by marriage or by the removal of the patient from the influences under which he incurred the disorder. This disease, like caries and many other ailments, is prevalent only among civilized races living under artificial conditions; barbarous nations breathing pure air and eating simple food enjoy immunity from its ravages. It is sometimes fatal, but more frequently to the physician than to the patient."

~Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce

Trying to admit to herself that this was the best decision, Mary began to open her eyes slowly. She wanted to hear everything he had to whisper, all the sweet words of comfort. The sweetness of his voice, something that was so rare to hear in him, she wanted to taste his lips, to listen to all the words that praised her, her body. Words she would never hear if she was wide awake or if he knew.

As Mary had predicted –she opened her eyes and his words ceased. The longing in his eyes disappeared, and though she knew in the past she had been hurt by this, she no longer felt any pang of it in her heart, for she knew that it was in his nature to act cold and distant. It was the way, she supposed, he had been raised. Or maybe, she often theorized, it was just the way he felt he had to be. His post required a man who knew how to dissimulate, a man who could mingle in a Court full of masks, as he said.

"Good morrow" she said.

"Good morrow" he said back.

His fingers had stopped playing with her hair and traveled to her lower lip.

"How are we feeling today?" She asked hopeful that she could get a better answer than last time.

Eustace forced a light smile on his lips that seemed more like a grin to her, but this was as far as she would get, nevertheless she felt happy by it.

"I am feeling fine" he said shortly. His eyes traveled to her stomach where he brought his other hand to.

Seeing the concern on his eyes, Mary sighed, shaking her head vigorously. A tear escaped from her eye. She did not feel his fingers clean it; he was too focused on the second product of their affair resting within her womb.

"It is sleeping." She said confirming his fears.

For the last two months he had hoped that the child would die, that it would not survive the pregnancy, he had even prayed to God for it. He wanted to avoid himself the burden of having to argue with Mary anymore on the danger of carrying his offspring. When she had carried Henry, he'd pointed out, it was very different, because her husband had been around for her to cuckold him and make him believe the child was his. They were lucky that the child had inherited her eye color. But there was much of him as the boy, and it was becoming more visible now that the child was almost two. He had grown more nervous when he last seen him.

Not one month ago, he had seen both the child and his Lady interact. The child was anything but what he expected from a spoiled child. Being the favorite of the King and Queen he was expecting no less. But the favorite Lord was nothing but a cold, calculated and evidently a good masker, it was like looking into a mirror. There was barely any childlike behavior in him, except when his mother would present him with new toys.

The child though, unlike him, was very vain. He always wanted the best furs, the best clothing and the more attention than his elder and sickly, pale brother Philip.

He remembered vividly as if it had been yesterday, how he had gone into a huge fit after his mother gave him to her favorite maid and midwife, Elsa de Goya, so they could talk alone in her husband's study.

The elder woman had tried calming the child down, but it just kept wailing until his mother had to come to her rescue and take the child from the midwife's arms. All at once the child's cries ceased taking comfort in his mother's arms.

Eustace's attention was brought back to their unborn child.

What life would await that child? Being born to parents who would be seen as adulterous, and avoided like the plague, the child would be seen as the product of sin, and avoided like the plague.

Did she think of this often, when she argued how much she loved her own flesh and blood?

If she really loved this child, she would spare it all the life of misery that lay ahead for it.

Mary was thinking the same thing about how she could avoid a life of misery for her child. But she couldn't bare the thought of giving her own child up and letting him or her, being raised by strangers? She had not been long enough around Henry or Philip, and now that she felt his hand resting on its womb, she realized her mistake with them. She had abandoned them. She could have visited Hever by now, requested them to be brought back to Hunsdson.

If she had only listened to Chapuys' advice, she would never have been acted brashly or coldly against her father's young wife. If she had only reconciled, she would have been granted access to their son's upbringing. She would not have to be a stranger in their lives. Henry barely recognized her, the only reason why he would hug her and call her mama was because of all the presents he brought him every time she visited him, or when it was allowed that he be brought to her state.

And then there was Philip.

He was definitely his father's son, and he had been too much under Kitty's influence. She had tried to reach her eldest son, but he would never return her love. At first she thought him incapable of doing so, but later when she would hear Kitty speaking of him fondly, she realized that the whore had not only stolen her father, she had also stolen the affection from her children.

She could not bear it if she lost another child.

"Mary" his smile disappeared and looked at her his voice becoming deathly serious. "If this secret is discovered, I do not need to repeat the consequences of your actions." He warned.

Mary bit her lower lip that he had earlier caressed.

"I know, but what happens when you feel too attached that you cannot bear the thought of abandoning your own child? Have you thought what he or she might look like Eustace? Haven't you had dreamless nights just thinking about it?"

Mary's face grew solemn as she said this.

"This has nothing to do with that" He mentioned. "You are prolonging the child's suffering the more you allow this to continue"

"And what would you have me do?" She asked feeling more enraged as he brought the subject of terminating her pregnancy again. "You would have my soul burned in hell for the death of one innocent child. Do you not feel anything?"

"Madame be reasonable, and think what world you are bringing this child into? A child born out of sin, you are going to let it suffer for its parents' mistake, for my sins? Would you risk loosing your own children, and everything you have thus far for protecting this child?"

"How can you speak such words? Don't you care for your own child –or perhaps you don't feel anything anymore. Tell me what was it, was it the death of your father or your mother that made you such an uncaring, cold and –" –She wanted to continue but she broke off when she heard, suddenly the sound of his voice, screaming at her. She had not been aware that he had hit a nerve with her last sentence.

"Don't pretend you know anything about me milady! You do not know what I have been through, and all your pain and suffering is nothing compared to what I have witnessed, you professed you know about human evil, but you do not know anything. You have been cloistered like a nun in this Court to see the real world –"

"How dare you?" But Eustace did not seem to acknowledge her protest and continued.

"I have seen the world, I have seen the true nature of man kind, none of us are good or evil Mary. Not even I am and it is time that you stop loosing yourself in the fantastic image you have made me out to be! I am not as cold and uncaring as you think I am."

"Then why do you speak of such things? How can you suggest these things to me, this is your child that I am carrying. We could find a way –"

"No we cannot" his voice had lowered. "The more we try to hush this up, the more we are creating suspicion. Lying here in Hunsdson, someone sooner or later is bound to come and visit, if not the Queen's retinue, then your sister, or perhaps they will send for Doctor Butts or de la Sa to check you and see if you really are sick. Think how this would look? Think of how the Queen is just looking for an excuse as the rest of your enemies to get rid of you"

She turned away from him. She didn't want to be scolded, least of all by him.

She got up from bed and began dressing up almost as quickly as he asked her what her next step was.

Once fully dressed she addressed him. In that emerald dress, he thought she looked like Goddess Aphrodite. –"Do you really want to know?" She asked her tone indifferent.

"Of course I do! Can't you see I care for you deeply?" He cried.

"Do you really?" she challenged coming to stand next to lying form in the bed they had shared together so many times before, since Philip's absence. "Then let me decide over the child's fate. If he or she dies then it is God's will, but if it still breathes inside me, then it is God's will that he or she lives"

Eustace could barely contain his anger, and he hid his hands under the sheets so she would not see the fists that had been formed.
But Eustace had been right. The child did pose a danger

"Won't you let me? It is that or nothing Excellency" She wasn't giving him much of an option, and if he said no to her then she would ask him to leave and she would deal with this matter all on her own. He couldn't let her do that (alone) and risk everything she had, even if she thought she had a good reason to.

Mary looked deeply at him as she waited for his answer, her dark blue eyes bearing into his lighter blue.

"You have given me little choice" said Eustace.

"It is what I intend to do" she repeated. Her conviction stronger as he sat up, and his back propped up against the uncomfortable wood and then moved quickly, his hand reaching out to hers and taking it quickly in his.

"I will follow you, because I can't bear you to do this alone milady" He said his voice turning softer. "But we have to be very careful wit this. The Queen could send for her physician or yours at any time. If we can find another excuse to keep her from guessing what is really happening, then we could keep this up"

"You are with me then?"

"Isn't that what I have always done? Be with you. I was not lying when I said after the engagement with Dom Luis was broken, that your happiness was all I cared for. It still is"

"Nothing makes me happier than to hear you say those words" Mary said, heartily.

"Indeed so you are ready for the consequences? We must consider all scenarios." He said knowingly.

Her face grew solemn. She didn't want to face the consequences of their acts, but he was right, it was a possibility they had to consider if they were to survive through this.

She knelt down, and her palm caressing his cheek she leaned forward and kissed her lower lip, whispering "I love you" and she could feel the tip of his tongue sliding inside of her as she got lost in the kiss, deepening it as he engulfed her into a passionate state that she could only feel when she was with him.

(Mary POV)

Hever Castle

The week later after our last meeting, I parted to Hever to see my offspring.

I felt they had been away from me long enough. I longed to see their chubby faces, especially my youngest, Henry. My absence had made them, especially the oldest, Philip, very dependant on their nurses and to my chagrin on the Queen.

I wanted them to feel loved and needed by none other than their mother.

I wanted to wash away all the influence of Kitty Howard and replace it with my love.

I wanted them show me the same tender care that I always showed them when I visited them. When I saw them I vowed I would never be away them.

Philip, I noticed was still looking very pale, his poor health sadly reminded me of his uncle, my brother Edward who was constantly sick and under strict supervision by his doctors.

Like my brother he was under strict supervision by Dr. Butts, the Queen I heard from him before I went to see my children, visited them often, and seemed to genuinely care for him. But I knew better, she was not the smartest person, but that did not mean she wasn't sneaky like the rest of the Howard clan. As far as I knew the Howards never plan anything by halves, and Kitty Howard was no different. I had underestimated her many times, thinking she was as brainless as her ladies, but I knew better now when I brought my son to my arms and he struggled against me, wanting to break free.

I had seen how he had welcomed Kitty with open arms, but for me he had gone stiff, and the moment I touched him he recoiled, almost repulsed by my touch.

"What is wrong sweetheart?" I asked my three year old son, he didn't say anything and looked away. It broke my heart to see him act this way toward me.

I diverted my gaze to the boy standing next to me, whom I had felt earlier tugging my dress demanding my attention. He had not been so welcome to Kitty's attentions, but he did accept them no less for all the gifts that her step grandmother showered him with.

Out of the three Tudor boys, he was her favorite and also my father's. Personally I had no favorite, though I admit that Henry was the more handsome boy that I had ever seen. Unlike his brother he was strong, he was fit and he loved to play with his toys, the boy was restless and he welcomed everyone as long as they showed him the same affection.

Best of all, Henry was the vivid image of Eustace. His face reminded me of him every day when I would lay eyes on him. His eyes were the same dark grey characteristic of the Tudors, but high cheekbones and nose were all Eustace. Everyone had been very blind not to see those small features that bore a resemblance with his real father. Philip had been very engrossed with the war, and with gaining favor at my expense and through our children, that he had failed to notice these features. Like everyone else, she believed Henry was who she said he was.

I brought Henry to her arms and went to sit him next to me after I sat on the couch that was next to his cradle.

Almost immediately I saw a change in Philip as he cried out "mama! Mama!" to me and came running forcing me to stop playing with Henry and look down to the kneeling child at my feet.

"Mama!" he kept saying, his eyes stained with tears. I took pity on my small son and scooped him in my arms. I failed to notice Henry's jealous stare as he folded his arms, clearly annoyed that I was now devoting all of my attention to my oldest son and first heir.

"Don't go" he said, his voice barely audible but I understood everything he said, though it was broken English. I wiped the tears with my fingers from his cheeks, sometimes I forgot that he was so frail and weak, and he reminded me more of me than of his father or grandfather. I immediately forgot all the attentions and loving care that Kitty gave to Philip and that he always returned to his surrogate mother.

Today I learned what I must do to bring Philip back into my arms. Both brothers were hungry for attention, but out of the two it was Henry who was always welcoming, I needed to show him affection, the more I do, I told myself, the easier it becomes for Philip to come running into my arms.

"I am not going anywhere love" I said giving him a kiss on his cheek, earning an approving smile from him that was followed by loud giggles.

"It tickles" he said when I ran my fingers through his dark hair making a mess out of it.

"I could make it worse, I could spill cold water over it, you wouldn't be able to comb it for days" I joked. Philip laughed harder at this.

Suddenly our moment was cut off by his violent cough. I dreaded the sound of it, my brother was plagued by it constantly, and now it was Philip. Were all Tudor males cursed to die so young?

Just then I felt Henry tugging at my sleeve, and I could see his pinky and chubby cheeks. Maybe not all –I suddenly thought, realizing how Henry had never shown any of these physical ailments, since his birth he had been a healthy and strong child, and he seemed to getting stronger each day.

His expectant and impatient gaze told me that he wanted me to hold him again, he seemed to ignore his brother's cough which had ceased at once as I embraced him and let him rest his head on my shoulder. I mouthed a small sorry to Henry, he was too young to understand the facts of life, sickness or death.

"Shhh … there, there Philip go to sleep." I said massaging his back. I did not know how long I stayed like this, but when I opened my eyes upon feeling something warm on my waist, I looked down to see Henry asleep too.

June 5th,

Battle of Serravale

Philip lay on the verge of dying. The only thing that mattered he heard the Physician and the healers say, was that he pulled through the fever, and the rest they added was God's will. Besides the prayers of the soldiers, there was nothing else they could do.

No, make me live. I have to see her, I have to see Philip … Henry, I want to see him again! -he prayed. Desperately he was begging to God, imploring, not to let him die He tried to stay awake but as they brought a wet cloth unto his forehead, he felt himself becoming drowsy, and his vision was becoming hazier He could barely distinguish the figures that were next to him, looking at him with deep interest.

None of them, he thought, believes that I can live through this.

I will show them –he decided, letting sleep claim him, the last thing that passed through his min before he was taken, was his wife's image smiling down at him, and when he saw this he thought that he had been dreaming or was dead and accepted into heaven. But the dream became a nightmare. Next to Mary appeared the Imperial Ambassador, a man he despised more than the devil itself, as he leaned down his lips coming into contact with her perfectly beautiful skin on her neck.

No! He wanted to scream, but sleep had finally claimed him.

The doctors sighed, they all heard him mutter in his sleep, begging no to some alien entity, he was already hallucinating, it was a bad sign, very bad sign they all whispered to each other. God's will they kept repeating, it was all in the Lord's hands, but this did not suffice for his men who kept praying so that their general would make a quick recovery and that his leg and chest wounds would soon heal.

They had won the battle but at a great cost, despite Alfonso D' Avalos advancing against the Italian mercenaries at service of the French, attack, they had lost so many men, and Philip trying to be the hero and remembered for his courage, had acted without thinking and charged at full speed at the enemy. He had killed, more like slaughtered, he'd considered, many, but in the end it proved fruitless as an arrow had pierced through him in the chest, wounding him greatly. After he fell from his horse, he twisted himself around so he would not land on his back and end up paralyzed without the possibility of moving his legs. As he'd predicted he landed on his shoulder. His men and the Imperial soldiers came rushing to his aide, they brought him far as possible from the battle front, but it was too late to stop the bleeding. The physicians had given him wine before they removed the arrow and tended to his other wounds; they'd said it would help with the pain.

The pain had been too great for him to bear. After he closed his eyes and falling victim to exhaustion because of the pain he experienced, everyone around him looked to the Duke in pity and whispered solemn phrases. It seemed to D' Avalos who was standing next to his fallen and unlikely comrade, that they were mourning the Duke.

They should be praying –D' Avalos thought, rather unlikely for him to admit that he cared for this man. He was a heretic after all, and like all heretics he was an enemy of the Empire, but so far he had demonstrated courage in the battlefield. He cared for his soldiers, and he was a strong fighter, he still could not fathom how was it that the Lord allowed good soldiers like this man to fall prey to the arrows of men who had no honor, mercenaries, scum of the Earth, thought D' Avalos.

Three hundred of his men had died, a very little number taking into consideration how many of HIS men had fallen prey to these mercenaries. This battle proved to be a major victory for the Empire and its allies. Thanks to this, now the Emperor, he was sure, his master would be forced to invade France and maybe he could convince the King of England to do so as well. The Empire and England once again, fighting side by side and leaving all of their religious and political differences aside for a common goal, to conquer France and depose once and for all that libertine King, Francois I.

Looking down at Philip again, D' Avalos thought back to this man's last words, about his wife, his home Bavaria, and his children whom he loved and missed dearly.

"I promised Philip that I would give him a wooden horse" Philip said smiling as he tried to carve the perfect image of the Trojan horse his son loved so much from Homer's Odyssey. He had vowed he would return home safely, he had other reasons to promise this to his children. To his wife as well he had made a promise that he would come home quickly, not because he missed or cared for her.

His feelings for her were genuine, of that he was certain, but there was also the duty as a husband and as the father of England and his land's heirs, that he be back home safely, so they would not have to end up as puppets as the Prince of Wales already was of his family and the rest of the Court.

"Your son sounds really smart for a three year old" D' Avalos said watching the perfect carving that Philip was making with his knife.

Philip turned to the Imperial commander. "Yes he is. Not only that, I receive word that my little one Henry is doing great in his studies. He already masters four languages. I swear that kid is going to make us all very proud" He commented feeling a knot in his chest, and a huge pain in his abdomen as he thought back to his youngest (and favorite) son Henry.

He often reminded him of his wife, and his father in law, His Majesty and his son's namesake. The boy unlike his uncle and brother, possessed perfect health, he had never gotten sick, and there was no ounce of ambition in his eyes as he often saw in Philip's.

His eldest son, he feared often felt jealous of his younger brother, because Henry was everything Philip was not. Henry was very active, he would rarely, if ever, get tired. His nurses and tutors loved him and they never stopped praising him.

The King had fallen in love with his second grandson the moment he had been laid in his arms by his wife, Henry's godmother.

The thought of him dying here alone, scared him. He had many reasons to worry. Indeed, and not only for the opportunists who would take advantage of his orphans sons and use them to further advance in their positions, especially with Philip being a sickly and very co dependant boy, he would be the easiest one to manipulate one. He worried more about his wife, what she would do if Philip died?

The answer was obvious. Even D' Avalos had hinted it. He had seen much of the world, more than Philip of Bavaria in fact, to know that women being the lonely creatures they were, they easily ran away from their husbands when they were absent for too long. Mary, D' Avalos thought, should be no different, and though his comment should have angered Philip it did not, for it bore much truth.

He had already fallen victim of his wife's cheating, sometimes in her letters that seemed so formal he suspected that she would be lying with that man, and that he would marry her without a doubt if he were to die.

The Imperial commander looked at Philip's troubled gaze; he decided to switch the subject.

"Tell me about your son Henry. I have heard from my master that his grandfather, His Majesty has made him Lord of Pembroke and Richmond. You must be very proud Your Grace" he commented watching how the Duke's expression shifted from concern to happiness, he truly felt pride at his son's achievements. His achievement, Philip considered, were also his own, because of him, Henry and his brother had been placed one step ahead of everyone. Kitty Howard loved them, and she wasted no time praising him for begetting two beautiful children of his wife. Though they still had their problems and differences to settle, Philip sincerely thought that one day (perhaps) she and Mary could have a better relationship, through their children.

"Henry was born nearly two years ago, in fact he is going to be two this year. I recently heard that he is growing stronger, and that he is not an inch taller than his brother. The King I remember used to say that God has blessed him with another son, he considered my Henry to be his Duke of York. We all thought that the Queen would be mad, and I would not have blamed her if she was, but she was actually relieved when Lord Henry had been born, because it meant that she was no longer under much pressure to produce a heir, though many at Court still want her to."

"Ah yes" D' Avalos interrupted reminiscing what his master once told him. "a King can never have too much sons can he? You should have seen my Master's face when he heard he had married again, and to a Howard no less!" He exclaimed recalling his master's outrage at hearing the King had married a common harlot, who just so happened to be the late harlot's cousin.

It had become the newest scandal of Christendom.

The Lady Katherine Howard, who rose as high as her cousin (Anne Boleyn) by the King who made her his Queen.

For their sake, D' Avalos and the rest of the Imperials, they hoped that the King would not get any offspring, son or daughter from her, one bastard was already too much. Nothing good could come from the cousin of Anne Boleyn's womb. It would be another bastard, another evil thing sired from evil itself.

Philip might consider her to be the Goddess Hera incarnate, but D' Avalos had been, long enough, around women to know their true nature. Foul creatures, he thought, they knew nothing more than to make men feel like they were less. Their whole sex, he considered, was condemned, and because they knew they descended from the Devil itself, they preyed on men hoping that way they would gain their master's favor so they would become as exalted as God's perfect creation -man. Just what the Duke needed, he thought grimly recalling how many women found it easy to snatch men under their sweet voices and false promises.

Philip saw how D' Avalos' face had been twisted, his mouth almost becoming deformed as he mentioned the Queen. It was a well known fact, that Kitty Howard was first cousin to Anne Boleyn, and that if they were to compare them, they would see a striking resemblance between the both, not in their physical appearance, they were very different, but in the way they behaved. Kitty preferred French fashions and opted for an allegiance with them, like Philip often did, but in the end they had to swallow their pride after the Ambassador proved to be (he hated to admit) much smarter than Ambassadeur Marillac.

Philip sometimes wished he could have met Anne Boleyn, there was much mystery surrounding the mother of his sister in law, whom he was very close, so he could know the real truth behind that mysterious woman whom had once been referred as the most happy.

"My wife's father is a great King, give him time. Old age has made him wise. Remember Richard Lion Heart, age made him stronger and a wiser King to his people" Philip reminded.

His Imperial counterpart smirked. He didn't need a lecture from Philip, he knew more about history than the young Duke and General from Bavaria. "And like old Richard I, Henry VIII has imposed terrible taxes on his people because of his war campaigns" he held a hand up seeing that Philip's lips moved and he was about to speak, "but alas you are right my Heretic General" a smirk appearing on his face that Philip found contagious. He wasn't insulted by being called a Heretic, he had gotten used to it, and besides D' Avalos did not mean to insult him, though close minded as Philip considered him, this became the easiest way for them to get along, leaving aside all their prejudices to concentrate themselves on the battlefield.

They had found this very useful, and made them not only better Generals but an unusual friendship had been formed out of the tragic war experiences.

"The King knows what the people want. Mark my words if God's will is to have a Bavarian heir as its next King, he will have to give his people death, freedom through war so they could love him. That is how Kingdoms are made"

"That is a sad comment in itself" Philip said in a nonchalant manner, looking at all the sick and wounded that were dying quickly because of the poor medical care. Three days ago their best physician had died and the only thing they had left were two poor skilled soldiers, who had been his apprentices, but they barely knew anything, Philip dared to think he knew much more than them.

"Alas it is the truth! Is how Countries are made -through war, not through peace" Philip of Bavaria should know better by now that no Country was free from blood, all Countries that were still standing had been through victory not by their economic system, but through war, it was the greatest business and the means which Countries and their monarchs maintained their power. D' Avalos had trouble understanding how was it the King of England, paranoid as he heard the fellow was, had let his daughter marry this dreamer, this fool who still had his head in the clouds.

"Your children will soon learn that it is the only way to survive" D' Avalos added.

"My children will be better people than me" And my wife, Philip wanted to add. Just the thought of his children committing, the same mistakes as their parents, especially their backstabbing mother was too much to bear to him. But they had Tudor and Plantagenet blood after all; they were bound for outrageous things.

The way he had talked about his children and his wife, made it seem like all his fight in foreign lands against an enemy he would rather not be against, was worth it.

He hoped so, because he could just imagine how much disappointment it would be fore Philip Wittelsbach if he were to return home and find his wife, had already forgotten him.

Greenwich Palace:

Three weeks had passed since the Empire and her husband's latest victory in Serravale. This had caused Charles, her cousin, and her father to come to a mutual agreement, after the Earl of Hertford had declared that his raid at Scotland had made the Country harmless, to attack France.

She was sad when Eustace told her that he had to go to Calais, it would be his signature that would seal the Imperial alliance between both nations, and also Bavaria. With her approval of course, since her husband was still unconscious, she was the one whose signature mattered the most to approve Bavaria's endless loyalty to the Empire.

She knew Philip would be mad if he knew what she did, but she told herself it was necessary, and besides she and Eustace agreed it was best for the negotiations, so England and the Empire would become strong allies in the war against France and their unholy alliance with the Turks and the Shmaldik League.

The Wittelsbach would bear strong resentment for her, of that she was certain, and Eustace knew it too, but for the sake of their faith and so their consciences would not weight against them, they did it. Eustace had considered it dangerous when she added on the document her pledge that when her son would be of age, with the Emperor's support, she would become Regent and that the second Duke of Bavaria would return Bavaria to the Papacy.

"Is this something you are sure Mary? Think of your husband. What if he were to survive? This would be treason" He'd said to her, but she found herself not caring for what Philip would say to her anymore.

"It is a risk then, that we will have to take. Bavaria needs to return to the Papacy" She'd said to him, arching her eyebrows as he raised his and bit his lower lip in disapproval.

"This is madness Madame!" He'd almost cried out to her, but he kept up his mask of neutrality, suggesting instead that she should reconsider, that this would only give her father more reason to take over her sons' upbringing, not to mention that Cranmer was already looking for an excuse to exclude her from their life altogether.
"Think of your children!" He'd roared, loosing all control she remembered after she refused to look at him.

She did, it was the reason why she was doing this, if Bavaria was returned to the Papacy by the time this war was over, and she was sure, that both the Empire and England would be victorious, then there would be no reason for Philip to oppose her decission. After all it would be fair pay since the Empire had helped England and Bavaria in this war against the Turks and the rebellious lot of France.

She sat down in her chair, all the whirlwind of memories came to a halt, when she remembered her last encounter with Eustace on their bed, moments after she'd found out that she lost the child.

It had been dreadful, waking up in the middle of the night, her bedsheets soaking in blood, everyone around her, Susan and Jane that is, kept screaming waking the entire household, most of whom did not know what was really plaguing their Mistress. Ther servants that were most trusted, were brought to her bedchamber to clean the mess. All the bed sheets had been washed and later she ordered Susan to tell them to have it all burned, so there would be no evidence that she was ever pregnant. It had mainly been Susan and Jane had helped her cover it all up.
But there had been a few puzzled faces, as some of the German servants struggled -and failed- to understand what was really happening to their master's wife. She smiled grimly to herself.

After the miscarriage of her son, yes it had been a son, a tiny baby that she had lost and all because of Cranmer! Nothing mattered to her after that. In truth, Eustace had been relieved when he had been told of the miscarriage, but she did not fail to notice the small glint of regret in his eyes afterwards when she told him of their unborn child's features. He had been very surprised, he must have thought that it was too early to distinguish its features, but she had seen them, she told Susan before they burned it, to let her see him. She had memorized every line, every imperfection of which the poor child had many. She'd remembered seeing the disappointment in his eyes. He had diverted his gaze to the window next to his four poster bed. His hurt looks had disappeared after they'd kiss and when they'd made love, but they soon returned when she told him about its appearance. To this day she still wondered what he might have been thinking when she mentioned their son's appearance.

This had all been Cranmer and the other Heretics' fault, who were responsible for her causing her stress that led to the miscarriage their unborn child. Eustace had said how he often powerless to stop the Heretics, and their influence over the King. Mary could not helpt but agree. Since Cromwell had been introduced into Court, it had caused England nothing but pain and grief when their King was bewitched by this man's council.
Sometimes she found herself wishing she could be Queen only so she could crop every head of every infidel in England, and that she would shed as much blood as possible, so this Country could be what it once was, clean as a pearl, pure and loyal to the One True Church.

Hate and resentment were not the only dark feelings born out of the tragedy of loosing her third child. She'd also found herself feeling nothing but contempt. Days after the miscarriage, she had received a letter from none other than the Queen, who did not stop saying how proud she was of her children and without asking her permission she said that she would take the children to her current Royal residence at Greenwich. Mary had been enraged, she remembered tearing up the letter into little pieces and curse the Queen outloud, no longer caring if anyone of her husband's bloody spies would report this to Her Majesty. They knew nothing. Their Duchess was still a mystery to them, she was safe as long as she didn't talk to them, or said anything. She had not responded to the Queen, and when the Queen came to visit her, nobody said anything because they knew nothing. It was as if their Mistress had never been pregnant.

Nobody would know.

It would be the best kept secret, as was the true lineage behind her father's favorite grandson, Henry. And to add to her line of secrets no one would know for a long time of her betrayal when she signed her husband's lands to the Emperor agreeing that when her son, either of them, came into his inheritance, he would return Bavaria to the Papacy, and he would be loyal to the One True Church. For her God and her Church she had been willing to risk her life and commit treason.

A/N: I know evil cliffy and evil me, their son died. Next chapter flashbacks when she lost the child including the meeting with Cranmer.

Fact vs Fiction:

Quick *The battle of Serravale was really important because this is what forced the agreement between the two nations, the Empire and England were they agreed together to invade France.

*As for Chapuys leaving, historically he did during this period and it was his signature which sealed this agreement, which I am following this as well for the storyline.

Philip will he live or die? Wait to find out, if I get enough reviews I might feel in the mood to update more than one chapter.

so don't forget now to

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kk,

~Carolina