Angel of Wales Chapter 38: How it came about, a tudors fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own nothing, certainly not the Tudors that would make me a Goddess and a millionaire!

A/N: Thanks for all the great support with your reviews, you all have been great. Thanks Dani for the brainstorm of this story's last chapter.

I leave you with one short chapter, but don't worry next chapters will be longer, be sure to read it all and review at the end of every chapter!

Italics -thoughts or flashback, and "Bold" are commonly important references.

~Carolina

"How the hell did we wind up like this?
Why weren't we able, to see the signs that we missed
And try turn the tables

I wish you'd unclench your fists, and unpack your suitcase
Lately there's been too much of this
But don't think it's too late

Nothing's wrong, just as long as
You know that someday I will

Well I'd hope that since we're here anyway
That we could end up saying
Things we've always needed to say
So we could end up staying
Now the story's played out like this
Just like a paperback novel
Let's rewrite an ending that fits
Instead of a Hollywood horror

Nothing's wrong, just as long as
You know that someday I will

Someday, somehow
I'm gonna make it all right but not right now
I know you're wondering when
(You're the only one who knows that)
Someday, somehow
I'm gonna make it all right but not right now
I know you're wondering when
(You're the only one who knows that)

How the hell did we wind up like this?
Why weren't we able, to see the signs that we missed
And try to turn the tables
Now the story's played out like this
Just like a paperback novel
Let's rewrite an ending that fits
Instead of a Hollywood horror

Nothing's wrong, just as long as
You know that someday I will

~Nickelback -"Someday"

Calais:

His signature was that was needed to seal the final proof of his master and His Majesty Henry VIII, alliance with each other, agreeing they would attack France (together) and that the King of England would abandon all future plans to attack Scotland. After the Earl of Hertford had raided the land, in his opinion -it seemed more like raped, he had secured the plans for a future invasion. Henry used the pretext that it was to secure that the Scottish King, his nephew would not repeat his father's mistake and attack England.
Nonetheless, the Emperor did not want Scotland to fall under Heretical hands. He knew that if England were to be controlled by His Majesty, the little Queen, Mary Stuart would be forced to sign off her country to England, or worse she would be forced to marry Prince Edward, that way Scotland would be annexed by any child she could give the sickly future King.

It had angered His English Majesty when he agreed to the Emperor's terms but he was left with little choice. He wanted to invade France, and the Emperor was giving him the opportunity to do his life long dream, to destroy the French rose and humiliate his long life rival Francois I once and for all, it was something he would not miss for anything in the world.

Eustace sighed as he handed the document to his clerk, Montoya and his personal Secretary Fleming.

He gave specific instructions that this contract would be delivered to the Emperor's especial envoy as soon as possible.

That had been two weeks ago in the middle of July. Now it was the start of August and you could taste the fall by the tear drops in the sky, the passing of the strong winds and the most obvious (something he regarded as common everywhere, despite England having the most unpredictable weather he had ever witnessed) the falling of the leaves from the nearby trees where he was currently residing.

It pained him to be here and so far away from Mary.

But it was better this way, he told himself. This way she doesn't have to make up more fantasies or believe in the illusions she has fooled herself with, about their relationship. Eustace thought a grim smile gracing his somber features as he looked through the narrow window next to his four poster bed, at the clouded sky. He could tell it would rain again. He honestly didn't care how bad the weather turned up today. It was better to focus on the pain on his leg, because before when he would have abhorred it, he now welcomed it. Pain helped him keep focus, it made him feel angry, and most of all it made him forget her, even if it was only for a little while because soon after the pain was gone he would remember her. Her face, her kisses, the delight she wore in her face, in her hands movements when they would run from his back to his hips saying that she loved him, and he would respond that he loved her, not only in the physical sense, but in the spiritual as well.

That was at least something, he whispered to himself, that Philip would never get from her. She has given herself to me body and soul, while Philip has only had her body to rejoice in.

He had only been very sorry that when the Duke came back to England, he had not been in a coffin. He felt no guilt or remorse for thinking this at all. He thought it would have been the best for everyone. He should have died when the arrow pierced his flesh in Serravale. Things would have been better if he had died the hero, his lady would have full custody of her children by now, and a rich widow having all the privileges as mother to the favorite grandson of Their Majesties.
But later he would wake up from his dream, because that was all it was: a dream, an illusion.

Even if she did became rich, and the King let her keep all of her riches she had gained through her children, she would never have full custody of them. The King would draw the papers ordering his Master Secretary, the Earl of Essex and his Chancellor Audley as the rest of Parliament to allow him full custody and parental rights over his grandsons ahead of their mother, his own daughter.

It would be pitying one of his own against the backdrop and decadence of the English Court, since in the two children, Courtiers would see their chance as with the Prince to manipulate them, if either one of them lived past the Prince and became King. It would be his mother and his uncles all over again, only this time it would be too painful for him to see because one of those children, was his own bastard and he would be very sorry to see the King, if he dared, to make him take precedence over his elder brother Philip.

Eustace shrugged. What did it matter anyway? The deed was done, the past was the past, and the only thing left for him was shame, and regret of which he found himself feeling none anymore.

Beaulieu (New Hall):

Elizabeth seated in the sofa next to her fireplace was waiting for Her Majesty and cousin, Kitty. She had grown tired of waiting though, so in the meanwhile she had decided to read the latest verse of the gospel of St. Paul that her sister with the help of her youngest nephew newest Governess (Lady Latimer, a wealthy widow who had gained prominence in Court because Kitty found her opinions to be of high value, as did Cranmer). Her sister had asked the Archbishop and the Master Secretary, and Lord of Privy Seal, the Earl of Essex, Cromwell to make sure her name would not be included in the translation. Needless to say, because of their animosity with her eldest sibling, they didn't take her request too kindly and when the translation of the gospel came up, Mary was up in arms.

She had tried to calm her sister, but nothing worked.

Mary had been screaming like a raving lunatic, crying out in outrage for the injustice committed against her.

Elizabeth did not understand why was it her sister could not accept the way things were now? Why so much resentment? Was it because of her mother, the infamous witch Anne Boleyn, that she (her own daughter) had been taught to hate, yet secretly admired?

It seemed a waste of time and energy that Mary would be hating the new teachings on the basis of the injustice (what her sister considered in her opinion to be evil) that had been done by Elizabeth's own mother and her supporters to her and her mother, Katherine of Aragon.

But as Mary was falling out of favor, Elizabeth was gaining back the favor and preference her father once had for her, when she was still Princess of Wales.
With Kitty, she had made sure that no one would forget her in the Tudor Court. She had become everyone's sweetheart, and everyone adored her, just as they had once adored her mother, that dark mysterious beauty they now called 'witch'.

Elizabeth looked up as the doors of her apartment doors opened. She was greeted with her greatest and truest friend, Kitty Howard, surprisingly she had no ladies wither her this time, nor Lady Rochford or her uncle. Instead there was her youngest and favorite nephew who bore her father's name, little Henry. He had been walking slowly, making sure he would not trip or injure himself. Behind him was the Lady Latimer [his Governess] who was had been holding his chubby little hand the entire time.

Elizabeth walked to the three of them, and gave a bowed deeply for the Queen, acknowledging her first and then her nephew and his Governess.

"Lady Elizabeth" Said Katherine Parr with deep respect for the youngest Princess. She would not dare say it to anyone, but in Catherine's mind, Elizabeth had never stopped being a Princess, out of the two daughters she had been the one who had the more grace and beauty. Certainly -Cate thought- she had inherited not only her father's handsome looks but also her mother's.

Elizabeth ran to her nephew after Kitty had nodded seeing the impatient look on her stepdaughter's eyes when she diverted her gaze to the young Lord of Pembroke.

"Auntie Bess!" Her nephew exclaimed running to his Aunt Elizabeth. Elizabeth picked him up with great effort. "How you've grown!" She exclaimed locking her dark brown eyes unto his light gray.

"You always say that" he told her having no trouble articulating his thoughts into a perfect sentence.

Elizabeth had grown very attached to her nephew.

Kitty loved him as well, she proved to be a great step grandmother and surrogate mother, for a boy whom she considered practically abandoned by his mother.

Elizabeth didn't see it as abandonment. She didn't consider Mary a bad person. She had seen how much she loved them on the few occasions she had visited her sons' Household at Hever. Mary would shower them, as if it was a competition, with as much gifts as Kitty, and later she would take her children outside [on the daytime] to play. Henry, they had all witnessed how energetic he was, the boy never grew tired, he could play for many hours and stay awake forever.

"Do you have toys I can play with?" The little boy asked innocently.

Kitty giggled. "Toys are not everything" she said but upon seeing the crest fallen look on her favorite munchkin, she added -"But we can get you new ones after if you like"

Henry's face lightened and looked at the Queen and then to his governess whom he had grown attached to as well. His pleading eyes were asking for Catherine's approval, as always Catherine could barely contain her smile. She had never said no to Lord Henry, but she had set some boundaries to him. However, seeing how the Queen and the Lady Elizabeth were the ones who would decided what was best for the boy's upbringing, she decided to follow their current and nod to her ward and student.

Henry looked up at Kitty who was clapping. He had always found her laughter contagious, soon Elizabeth and his governess joined them.

Lady Latimer had been very discreet when the children had began asking about their father, after they had heard servants talk about the Duke's miraculous return and tales of how he had bravely fended off the Italian and French mercenaries winning Serravale for the Imperial foces. Cate did not feel good lying to them, but a white lie was better than telling them the truth, that their father was in a very grave state, and that Physicians said that he probably wouldn't make it.

Everyone in England despite their known apprehension for foreigners, had grown to love the Duke of Bavaria, he had become English in every sense in the word, he no longer even had the German accent, and rarely spoke in his native tongue! All the people prayed for him, including her for she did not want to see her favorite ward, and what she considered to be her student, Henry become fatherless.

But nothing lasts forever, and Henry sometimes she found, was not as innocent as people thought him to be. Mastering four languages and nearly two now, she had often questioned Cate about the subject of death.

"Will my daddy play with me?" Henry said, his innocent voice cutting like a knife because of his question, the happy moment they had all been sharing.

Elizabeth's face turned grim, but she looked away so Henry would not see. When she finally regained her composure she turned to Henry. Smiling she nodded. More to the web of lies that they were building for the poor child, Kitty nodded as well telling the little boy to grow patience, his father was very tired and he had traveled all the way from the battlefield where he defended the good people from the bad ones.

It was the best and simplest explanation Kitty could come up for the child. Henry swallowed their lies, a smile forming on his lips replacing his curiosity.

"We can play with you for now" Elizabeth said lightly, feeling a knot in her chest. Guilt for lying. But she told herself it was necessary, sometimes the truth was not just enough, and people needed more than just the truth to get by, they needed inspiration, something to look forward.

The servants outside her quarters could not help but smile at the ladies' interactions with the toddler, though they could not see it -they could hear everything. Since Henry had married this young woman who at the time was only seventeen, he had changed drastically -his foul moods had disappeared and he had been born again. Their old and grouchy King had become merry again, those who knew him since he was crowned said that it was the miracle of yet another Catherine, this time one of their own, who had changed him for the better.

The two guards waiting outside the Lady Elizabeth's chamber doors could not help but agree. Everything had changed for the better.

"Love is not kind, love is not forgiving, but people are. We are fools in love as we are even more fools in exalting ourselves believing we are invincible, that pain is blind to us. We are wrong. We are all victims of pain. Those who say they suffer too much or suffer too little suffer the same just as you, their pain is just different. Pain is pain no matter where it comes from, how we take it, how we view it, is how it is interpreted and how it takes priority over others. Pain and love are two different sides of the same coin"

~Coins of Luck by Anonymous

**[Flashback]**

Hunsdson:

It had been late March when the Duchess received a surprise visit from Cranmer.

Mary was showed barely a curtsy worthy of a servant and commoner like Cranmer, for a Princess of the blood (nobler than all her siblings -her mind remarked) and next in line to the throne after her brother, Edward. Thomas Cranmer did in the least care for what his best friend and companion's wife had to say. He was only here, he told himself, strictly for business not for pleasure and (certainly not) of his own volition.

The Earl of Hertford and Cromwell had seen to that.

Cranmer was the one hand chosen by the Earl of Hertford who had been advised, no doubt by, Cromwell that he delivered the message to the Duchess of Bavaria, Lady Mary that it was her duty as the King's eldest daughter to show her face before the nobles and other yeomen who were still up in arms because of the King's involvement in this war. The Lady Elizabeth, and Queen Katherine Howard along with their retinue had managed to convince many, mainly the yeomen whom Cranmer was deep fond of for it was said in the scriptures, they represented the souls that Christ had intended to save.

He never put it past him though, that he and the others should keep a close watch over the nobles and rising class that was neither rich nor poor, but in between. The latter especially were contributing to the nation's wealth through their own independent trade. They were loyal only to themselves, and that worked fine with him and the other politcians, as long as they would contribute to their efforts of advancing the Reform and staying true to their word, that they would always be loyal to God thought His representative on Earth, Henry VIII.

After the Pilgrimage of Grace which had proved a fortune to the true faith's faction (and misfortune for the followers of the decadent one) Cranmer had discussed with Cromwell and Audley. If the people were to rise in arms again with the excuse they were defending their one true church, the Duchess then would have to be placed under "protective" custody, mainly someone on their side. Then the necessary measures would be taken, with paperwork ready to also take into full custody her children and heirs to the throne. Cromwell, Audley (and Cranmer was sure they could easily get to Wriothlesly and Gardiner, despite their supposes support of the Catholic faith, if they were offered a position of higher prestige or better lodgings, like any member of the corrupt and decadent church, they would sell their souls to Satan just for the sake of gold) and last but not least himself, could convince Philip to sign his custody rights over to them.

He was brought back to reality by the stern voice of his best friend's wife. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit Archbishop?" She hadn't even bothered to call him properly as protocol called for it. No matter -he thought- she owes me nothing, I owe her nothing either.

He forced himself to smile on her. "Well milady isn't it obvious? I have come on behalf of His Majesty who has heard of your wonderful translation and wishes nothing more than to congratulate you, this gift you have bestowed on us, something that could not have been done without the Lady Latimer, your youngest son's governess, extensive knowledge. Both your contributions will be recognized as something invaluable to the Crown and to our Church milady."

Mary paled, she felt the anger rising and it was consuming her. How dare they? He and his whole lot of Heretics-hadn't they remembered their promise, that they were never to reveal she had helped in such heresy when she was "forced" into translating the gospel of St. Paul's letters to English? Did her word meant nothing in this land of Heretics and Infidels? Where they even familiar with the word "Promise"?

Mary had become very rigid, she had never felt herself this angry, not even when her father threatened her to send her to the tower if she didn't recognize the harlot as his rightful wife or Elizabeth ans his sole heir, nor when Kitty Howard had threatened to take her sons away from her.

Her face had become thunderous, and she shot daggers through her eyes as she locked gazes with him.

"You must be very proud. The Church of England could not have strengthen its position without you. This will be something that I am sure history will remember, we are on the dawn of a new Era milady"

Indeed we are, she thought, and when and if I become Queen I will make sure that before I send you to hell, that you will taste first the flames of my wrath when I burn you to the stake!

"Are you defying me, my Lord of Canterbury? What happened to our agreement?" She asked, her tone intimidating, but Cranmer stood his ground.

Cranmer did not feel in the less intimidated, or scared by her threats, nor by her glacial expression, having come upon worst with having been through worse at the presence of the King and his merciless Court.

"You mean your agreement?"

"It was our agreement!" she cried recalling how Cranmer and that Satan's advocate and her father's best dog, Cromwell, had guaranteed that no one would ever know that she had a hand in that abomination. The moment the copy was laid in her hands by Cranmer's Secretary Mary threw it across the room.

Cranmer could not help but laugh at this display of the Duchess' uncontrolled behavior. It only proved his point, that God forbid if this woman should ever become Queen, what would become of England and the rest of the faith's true followers if they were cursed with a monarch who could barely have control over her emotions!

"You failed to protect your promise to me!"

"No milady I am merely His Majesty's humble servant. I did exactly as our Head of the Church asked me too" he replied with a submissive tone.

"You are nothing but a traitor to your word, heretic little priest" Mary muttered. A few of their servants who were close, caught her words and exchanged worried glances. The expression on Cranmer remained neutral however, as if he had gone being obsessed with mundane things such as caring for the bastard Princess' behavior.

Seeing how her outbursts had no effect on him, Mary swallowed, and then she regained her composure.

"I am utterly opposed to this "thing" having my name on it. Give full credit to the Lady Latimer, I am sure she would feel flattered, she is my son's tutor after all -one you and Her Majesty handpicked!" She gave a huge outcry.

"I am saddened by your reply Your Grace, it is a shame. If only your kind could understand what we are trying to do here. This will be nothing the world has ever seen, we are making history Madame, and whether you like it or not you are as much the King's subject as the rest of us, the old ways are over as a great Lady whom your Church helped murder, once said, the new ways are what are important now. You are part of a dying race." He stated, looking sternly at her, challenging her.

Mary diverted her gaze to Susan, Jane and Sophie who, along with the others, were gazing at the floor. Mary turned back to the Archbishop of Canterbury, her penetrating gaze causing him to shiver for the first time, as her voice turned colder "You are just an Archbishop, and remember servants come and go, learn of your own history. Becket died after all for his imprudence to the King" she reminded being more defiant. "You are a valuable asset to His Majesty and to your Church, it would be most unfortunate if you were to die too soon"

Cranmer smirked then regained his old neutrality, his eyes becoming darker. "Are you threatening me Madame? Because I doubt that you can go round on round with Thomas Cranmer or with the rest of your father's LOYAL men. You are mother of valuable assets as well, never forget is the only reason why you are tolerated in the first place" He said with a smile turning to his servants, and leaving the Duchess hurt and humiliated.

His words kept resonating in her minds after she retired everyone, Susan following racing behind her Mistress attempting to calm her down, but Mary closed the door of her room before she could hear her favorite lady in waiting taking pity on her. She would not! She told herself. She would never let anyone take pity on her -pity was for the weak and Mary Tudor [certainly] was not weak!

After Susan stopped her violent knocking, Mary had finally been left alone, but that would soon change.

She felt a hot pain in her abdomen consuming her, she dropped to her knees clutching her stomach. She had began wearing heavy clothing, even if the baby bump was not easy to notice, if one looked hard enough they would find what they would be looking for.

Mary's other hand went to the floorboards of her chambers where her finger nails dug into the wood. The pain she felt from it as the result of blood coming from them, was nothing next to the horrible aching in her midsection where she carried the child.

"No! Ah!" she wailed, not realizing she was crying aloud.

Only her most trusted ladies and servants came rushing to their Mistress' aide. Sophie was not there of course, Susan for some reason still did not trust Sophie and had sent her home immediately after Mary had locked herself in her chambers.

Susan, Jane and the rest helped Mary to her feet. The curiosity in her could not help her avoid, the concern she felt for the child.

"Mary is going to alright, is going to be ..." Mary did not hear Susan finish her phrase, the child was all that mattered to her. Reaching [after they brought her to the bed where she was laid down] for underneath her dress, her hand fell in contact with something hot and sticky. Dread, fear, anguish and sadness, all came flooding at once as she brought the hand to her face.

Blood had never made Jane sick as it did now. None of the other ladies moved for a moment, it was Jane who broke the silence.

"Your Grace!" she screamed feeling completely frightened and disgusted for the dead remains of the child in her lady's hand, and soaked in blood.

Followed by Jane, another one of her maids cried, and one even fainted!

Mary awoke from her nightmare.

No! No! No! She gave a mental cry. This could not be happening, she sat up straight and her hand went straight to her chest, she clutched her nightgown, the soft fabric that went down to her feet. It was the third sleepless night that she had been forced to relive this nightmare!

Why? Why? she asked herself, what had she done? What had the child done?

He was innocent as was I! She roared looking into the bedroom ceiling. Why did you take him away? It was not his fault! She protested, adding that if God needed someone to punish, it should be them then, all they ever did, if that could be called a crime, a sin had been to fall in love!

And in the end what was sin? What men in their Churches or in councils said was right or wrong according to their parties or leader's interest? What was the difference between love and sin? The way her father's Church had defined sin it had been as nothing more than the disobedience of the Lord, though they contradicted themselves stating that original sin was contradictory to their beliefs, and that if Jesus had eradicated all future sins then there was no sin. Belief in God was the only system in which any soul, independent of whether it inhabited a male or female body, could reach heaven.

They knew sin existed, but they refused to acknowledged it, yet they preached it calling it by another name. It was hypocrisy in Mary's opinion to say that a thing did not exist, yet acknowledging it by using another name for it. The way these heretics operated, she found that Gardiner had been right, it was as if they were afraid to hear the word "sin".

"Fear of a name-her mother once said- only increases fear for the thing itself"

Her mother's memory helped her come back to her senses. It had all been a dream, a bad dream -the past was the past, there was nothing she and Eustace could have done to prevent that tragedy. Maybe their love as Susan said was not meant to be, maybe she was not even meant for happiness at all.

Eustace, her thoughts came back to him, he was very far away, and she found herself missing him more each day.

Mary brought her sweaty palm to her (also drenching with cold sweat) forehead. "Get out of there" she whispered. "Go" she implored, but the nightmares would keep coming. As long as her husband remained unconscious, in the room next to theirs, she would never rest in peace.

A/N: Will Philip wake up or not? Review! and find out.

Fact vs Fiction:

*That was not all work of fiction Mary's translation of St. Paul to English, it did happen with the help of Catherine Parr in 1543-1544, however she asked her name to be erased so she would not appear as one that contributed to what she considered to be a heresy, and when the copy was given to her she ordered it to be burned, however even if her name was left out, everyone knew.

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