Disclaimer: I do not own everything if I did I would be a millionaire producer and Goddess Supreme ^_^

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers, everyone who has followed this story.

~VXLP


"Drink the wine my darling you said
take your time
take your time ...
and consume all of it
But the roses only to chain my inspiration
the promise I was spawned before they left your lips
I breath you in again just to feel you
underneath my skin holding unto
the sweetest escape is always laced with that familiar taste of poison

I tell myself: that you are no good for me
I wish you well but desire never leaves
I confide this to the end but maybe I don't want to wait
I breath you in again just to feel you
underneath my skin holding unto
the sweetest escape is always laced with that familiar taste of poison

I do not want to be save
I do not want to be sober
I want you on my mind
In my dreams behind these eyes that I don't want to wake up
No! Not this time
I breath you in again just to feel you
underneath my skin holding unto
the sweetest escape is always laced with that familiar taste of poison
Familiar taste of poison"

~Familiar taste of poison by Halestorm


England

1545, September 16th

Tower of London: Mary's cell:

There was no more prayers to whisper to their invisible God as their mistress had lay in bed unable to move any of her limbs. The same fever that had plagued many of her ancestresses had now befallen Mary. So now she could neither stand nor utter a word without releasing a violent cough spitting out blood.

How had this happen to me? She wondered, whispering to herself at the dead of night when she would turn with much pain at each of her attendants. Susan and Elsa. The latter had had sleepless nights watching over her mistress, never ceasing to compare her fate to that of her daughter's. The ill fated daughter of Elsa de Goya who believed she could make a difference when she joined the Pilgrimage of Grace. But before the Pilgrimage began, the movement was doomed. It lacked organization and loyalty and many had fallen back on their promises, seeking in the long run when they perceived the inevitable ruin of their leader. Robert Aske. They sought favors through their betrayal. It was advantageous at best, and not as selfish as many believed. All of the men who had betrayed their friends were family men who owed their loyalty first to them than to the God they worshiped. Elsa's daughter had not seen this, and in her blind fanaticism she had followed Aske and the other followers to the death.

Like her daughter, her mistress had shown strength driven from her unwavering and blind faith. Mary believed with all her heart that she was dying a martyr and had been unjustly condemned. Regardless of what the former Princess and Duchess of Bavaria believed, the reality of things weighed more than the truth here. If she did not die in the scaffold she would surely die of the fever.

Mary made sure that her two maids were asleep and looking at the barred window behind her she saw the moon at its highest zenith, its light shining down on her. But it was not a warm and comforting light. Its color, silver mixed with white reminded her that she was like the moon goddess, a Princess born of royalty, descendant of the greatest royals that ever walked Christendom, nevertheless she had been driven to darkness by her enemies and that of her mother's. Her light no longer shined as brightly as the sun, she was neither gold nor the figure her mother had expected to be admired by her adopted people. She was condemned to walk alone, and looked down upon.

Her aura had turned cold and forgetting for a moment about Greek mythology, her favorite when it came to the classics was the Illiad and Greek philosophy; she turned her attention instead to the stars. Her father rarely discussed them save when he was in the company of Sir Thomas Moore, the author and once beloved friend of her father's, she had admired the most in her adolescence. He had written one of the greatest book, unlike Machiavelli's, Moore's vision of an ideal society was more positive yet even he admitted that his ideal world could never be. "People" her mother once said "are too vile and too easy to fall into temptation. At the first of taste of power all the goodness they might have gets erased. Men love power Mary, and they will do anything to keep it."

"Anything" Her mother's words echoed as she repeated them in the silent walls of her chamber.


(Mary POV)

Avarice. I thought. My father was faithless, he had become completely cowardly, firm and with nerves of steel but without any morality left in his soul, and I suspected that too had been long gone. He had become worse than that libertine King Francis he was still fighting. Last I heard he and the Emperor were still holding each others' goods and my father had not yet agreed to the peace treaty he had initially told my cousin he agreed, between himself and the French King. He was worse off than when he began breaking off from Rome to wed the harlot, whose memory of the mistreatment I suffered from her servants at Hatfield and Bealieu still haunt me.

My father cared very little when he was told my condition had worsening in these past month. The Earl of Hertford when he came to visit me accompanied by my father's secretary and former Ambassador during the war, William Paget, had both seemed frustrated. The former more than the latter. Dr. Butts had come, but I suspected that it was not to treat the fever, more to prolong the pain so my execution would not be postponed any longer. I had never found myself praying for death until that moment when Dr. Butts had come in. A heretic I thought. I knew like Cranmer he had been counseling my father to side with the heretics rather than to punish them and cleanse their souls from the devil. He was a servant of Satan, I could not accept his cure or any tonics, but for the sake of keeping appearances and because I did not want my behavior affect Elizabeth, my daughter, treatment at the hands of my husband.

I took all the potions, the lotions, and obeyed all of Dr. Butts' advices. But I always did with a prayer whispered in my head that nothing of his methods would work. I pleaded to Him to spare me life and worsen my condition. If He listened he would save me from the humiliation of having to face the scaffold before a crowd of enemies. And listen He did.

After two months of long waiting Dr. Butts had shaken his head in disbelief and pity. I knew as Susan and Elsa were taken from me, that my fate had been written. I could only thank God. I was finally going to be reunited with my mother, see the grandmother that I never had the pleasure to, but always wished to, meet. I ended what I thought was my last prayer as I saw the Earl back away from me as soon as he delivered a document in my hands which surprisingly I could still move.

There had been placed in the chair next to me, pen and ink. It was a document, read to me by William Paget before the Earl had dumped it on my legs as I sat up straight barely giving it a second look after I dipped the pen in fresh black ink and signed it. It was a great blow to me. I felt I had given my soul to the devil ... again. My birthright. My mother's dreams, my own dreams in exchange of my sons' claim to a throne that should have been rightfully mine!

I would never be Queen, I would never bring back the true faith to England. I sobbed after I was done. Edward Seymour snatched it from me and later a guard came to take the pen and ink that had been provided for me.

Edward Seymour barely gave me a second glance after taking the document and placing it under his arm. William Paget gave me one look of pity which I found it worse than the former's coldness. I did not need their pity or their charity. When I asked if they could bring me news of my daughter I was given no answer. They had come with the mission to make sure that I would give up my rights to the crown and pass it on to my sons.

I waited for several days for Susan and Elsa to come. When I realized they weren't, I closed eyes and hoped for the inevitable. I was so entrenched picturing my mother in her gold and red gowns receiving me along with Saint Peter and my grandmother, when I reached heaven's gates that I didn't take notice or rather I didn't care of my body's improvement against the fever that I had been fighting for over more than two months.


"One must not let oneself be overwhelmed by sadness."

~Jacqueline Kennedy Onasis


(Eustace POV)

1545, September 15th -December 21st

Louvian:

"She has my chin" I whispered holding back the tears that were being produced at the sound of the waves hitting the ship, causing it to rock further and disturbing my little (I could still not believe she was mine and only mine) baby girl.

I could not bring myself to come from the bed for more than a week's times. We were supposed to disembark earlier but because of the tides we confronted at sea in an unexpected time, we were forced to remain longer hidden in our cabin like lepers. I could not come to come to enjoy nor breath the fresh air because the sight of little Isabella kept me up all day. She was my little angel, my goddess. Yet in spite of all the glamor that shone in the baby girl's face, there was a small trace of frailty behind those two sky blue orbs which she had inherited from me. Besides that, she had inherited my smile, my broad shoulders I could tell despite her being only a week old, but what stroke me as a great sadness that invaded me when I held this child, was the child's hair. It was beginning to grow quickly, and her dark auburn, almost brown hair reminded me of her.

After the ship finally reached the harbor, Fleming and Raphael along with two other servants of mine who had come to receive me, helped me climb up to the carriage that had been waiting for me, I reckon for more than a week. The ride back to the state I had purchased years ago while I had been forced to leave England on a matter of Imperial business was as I remembered it.

Nothing had changed except for the beds and guest chambers that had been re-arranged at my bidding in case I was every to have any visitors. Perfect relief is not possible except with time, I whispered silently more to myself than to the child that I was supposed to bring comfort to. She was from a pure and holier sort than any I had laid eyes on before. I have had enough experience to recognize a pure and unique one from a tainted one like myself.

But while I was comforted by the giggles of the little girl I held at night in my arms rocking her. I was beginning to grow worse, and it was not a physical pain but a pain that I thought I could not bare anymore that no tonic could cure. It was the pain of realizing after I had arrived to my new home with a crying baby in my arms, that I would no longer be graced with her smile, that her lips would never kiss mine. She was long gone and I had to move one. What other choice was there for me?

There was nothing left.

Everything that I had loved was taken from me, I was barely hanging on. Taking care of a baby proved to be very challenging. I wasn't the one changing or feeding her, but at night when I needed my much deserved rest, I found myself having great difficulty to keep my eyes close and drift into the land of Morpheus where I would much rather be. There was nothing left for me in this life but tend to a child who would not let me sleep. Servants who thought I was crazy for taking in a bastard child who would not let me sleep nor rest after my last attack from gout where I could barely stood up after days of being stuck in bed, on the physician's orders.

Even Fleming was beginning to grow annoying by being woken in the middle of the night to tend to his master and his crying nuisance of a child. Here by my side I had thought, very wrong now I see, that the child would heal my pain from having Mary being stolen from me by an act of cruel fate.

I was glad I had not been in England holding little Isabella when I was told three weeks later after our arrival to Antwerp, that the former Princess of Wales and Duchess of Bavaria had died almost immediately after she had given birth to her twins. I wondered if fate had chosen the lesser of two evils to spare from the humiliations of being seen weak and deprived of her best jewels, and having to face a crowd of spectators who were no longer her friends and would all be praying for her a fast departure from this world. Had God decided to bring this evil on her so she would not have to live the agony that the harlot had in her last days of reckoning?

I would very much like to believe it so. But alas I know better. Mary was not going to return to me, and God had saw fit to punish her for the crime of adultery and treason. The latter which we both knew she did not commit. But that secret, she and Philip, will take it to their graves and there is nothing I can do now but mourn.

As I paced back and forward painfully clutching my two canes that remained ever my faithful companions, I hear the door knob turn slowly as if the person behind it was hesitating to tell me some more terrible news from that dreaded place. In my despair I did not hear a second voice accompany Fleming as he bid me good morrow shortly before opening the door completely so he could be in full sight. I reminded him that sick as I was, I still possessed my other four senses.

Fleming's smile became contrite and he took a step backward as if he was hiding something, or someone -my mind said, from my sight.

I peered walking closer to Fleming, over his shoulder but saw nothing except a lonely shadow. Nothing suspicious there, it was probably one of the servants coming to bring me my medicine for the gout, waiting for my butler to leave. They could well be glued there waiting an eternity, I thought returning to my chair where I sat looking more tired than ever. Fleming was not one to hold a light conversation with. There were bags underneath my eyes, I had not slept in over three months. The child does not cease her cries unless I hold her and rock her to sleep. I am just a poor, old man you have for a father, sometimes I wish she could understand me and know the pain her eyes and long wails are causing me.

Fleming sighed and after what seemed the longest five minutes in my miserable life he answered the question that had been running wildly in my mind: Why was he here?

He smirked first to my annoyance causing me to roll my eyes. "I bring you great news master from England" He hesitated before saying the name of that dreaded island that had cause me great pain. Great? How can news from that Country be any great? Nonetheless despite I had renounced to my crown of thorns of being the Imperial Ambassador, I was still his Imperial subject and anything concerning England concerned me. As far as business there went I heard that Van der Defelt had proved against all odds a great replacement of mine. The Queen and Regent, Mary of Hungary though still asked my opinion concerning Imperial relations with that land and the Prince Regent, Philip of Asturias also wrote to me constantly. But his letters were of a different sort, it all had to do with the attitude of the English monarch concerning his two youngest male heirs, the Marques Philip and the Duke of Richmond, Lord Henry, the Bavarian Tudors. It did not take a brilliant mind to unmask Philip's true intentions. He was eighteen. An age most men were already married, but that wasn't what mattered, he wanted desperately to prove to his father that he was a worthy successor and a King greater than any other, including Charles, to Spain and the colonies that had expanded his father and his future kingdom as well as amassing for them greater wealth. He wanted an alliance with England. Where his father was failing to prove to England's stubborn councilors and their King to retire all their English navy and the goods they had confiscated from French and other merchant ships; Philip thought that he could do better by cementing an alliance of eternal friendship between their Country and England through marriage.

Philip was not yet married but I had no doubt he would soon be, and his health had always been frail. Since he was a little boy there had been worries that he would not outlast his parents, fate however had other plans proving his father's physicians wrong when it took his mother and Philip, with no father to talk to save through their short and very formal letters, was left practically an orphan. Like Mary he proved all his father's enemies wrong and now here he was, a man who would inherit half of the world and be the second richest man alive after the vicar of Christ. His ambition was modeled after his desire to leave a footprint in history greater than his old man. However, unlike Henry VIII who wanted the world all for himself, Philip truly cared I believed, despite my first impression of him being that of a pampered Prince, for the welfare of his country and all those that lived in his domains.
Nevertheless, I advised Philip to be cautious of those two boys, either of them he planned to betroth any future Princess he had with his bride. If they were anything like their grandfather I warned him, he could expect no less amiable character than the one Henry VIII had shown to his father when the matter of the salt herrings that Van der Defelt and I (shortly before leaving to Louvian) discussed with the Privy Council.

I received no late reply as expected from the Prince of Asturias. He was very persistent.

I looked at Fleming before returning my eyes to the letter of the Prince. "And what are those great news?" I ask with great indifference.

Fleming cleared his throat, I was expecting a loud sermon or monologue about the importance that England still held to my former masters and to Granvelle, whom I unfortunately still answer to, when a softer voice made me look up in surprise. My eyes widened at the image of the specter before me. Had I died, had we all died and was this purgatory or the ninth level of hell? Was I to be punished in death as I had been in life with her ghost?

I rubbed my eyes refusing to bow to this specter ... demon. I whispered mentally and recoiled when she called my name for a second time.

"Eustace" A third time, and then a fourth, a fifth until it threw a smile. Her laughter echoed throughout the silent halls of my home and I flinched rising to my feet, clutching my two canes even tighter as I walked to it. Fleming had since left. I would have a word with him after this was over.

"You never change ... old man" she said imitating my sarcasm.

I extended one hand and she caught it bringing it to her cheek. This was the final proof I needed to find for myself whether the specter was real or I was dreaming again. What happened was a miracle. Her face did not feel cold to my touch. Disbelief, outrage, and fear were my first emotions. Was this God's idea of some sick joke? Had my creator wanted to punish me showing me the one thing that I had loved the most only to returning back to the land of the dead later? No, it did not make sense. God would not be so cruel to his loyal servant ... could he? Many other questions circled my mind but she put made them vanish when her lips neared mine and God be damned, sick joke or not, I melted at her tongue passing mine. My cold flesh became warm and the canes I had been holding fell to the floor.

When the kiss was finally over I stared wide eyed at her again. This was just too beautiful to be true.


She spoke again, all humor now gone from her voice. "I meant to tell you, I am sorry but these last months away from you, from everything and everyone I loved were torture. When I fell sick the physicians did not think I would live but God I knew, praying day and night even when my fingers were too weak to move, praise Susan she was there to pray for me; He did not abandon me. And after all those weeks where my fate was still being deliberated an old friend, Van der Defelt's secretary came, Dubois I think is his last name. He said I had been pardoned"

Eustace held a hand as he reclined back to his seat with Mary sitting in the chair next to him. She had felt his bones tremble after she let him go and thought it best for him to sit down for the revelation. He was confused, Van der Defelt had barely looked at the letter where he had written down all his sins with Mary. Had he known all along and feigned ignorance?

Mary answered his question lowering her voice, it was as if she could still feel her father's gaze wherever she went. She leaned forward whispering in his ear, he could feel her hot breath another sign that she was with the living. "My father." she said in a crisp tone "I did not believe a word Van der Defelt's secretary said, but when he gave me a letter with my father's royal seal I knew" Her face fell down. There was something else she was not telling him.

"What is it?"

She rose turning opposite from him hugging herself, feeling a cold shiver running down her spine. Eustace saw her tremble, but an attempt to stand up made him flinch and he was forced to wait yet again for a reply.

"Mary?" He asked, his patience waning.

"I did not mean to keep this from you" She reeled back violently sitting back, she was working very hard to hold back the tears that were product of the emotions that she had been keeping hidden since the voyage to her new home began. "I did not want to leave after I read my father's letter. It was not a pardon, not really. He said that all the 'evils' I had done would be forgotten if I only agreed with his conditions to disappear. Nobody would know, he emphasized, what had happened to me. Another woman, my age, my size would be put in my place and since Susan and Elsa had agreed for my sake I had no choice left in the matter. If it meant coming back to you I happily would accept expulsion. I began to plan after I was brought to a ship where I was disguised as a townswoman about how to find you ... but" she sighed and met his eyes "I had no need to. My father did not even send spies or anymore letters. He did not care Eustace, I was gone from England, gone from his life. To everyone I am dead."

When Mary finished one tear rolled down her cheek, before it reached her neck Eustace finger wiped it and holding her face in his hands he brought it closer to his until their lips met again in an affectionate kiss that lasted longer when she returned it hungrily ravaging his mouth.

"I missed you" He said after they broke apart.

"I know" she said. "But I could not leave sooner."

"My father had ordered me to set sail as soon as I was smuggled from the tower with Dubois' help to the first ship leaving England. It was a blessing when I learned the ship was heading to Antwerp, after that it was not so hard coming here" she explained giving a light smile.

"Mary these months here ..." he struggled to say " ... have been more than just torture. I did not know if I would be able to raise our child. I have not slept or eaten anything. She keeps me awake all day and I have to be honest, I can't keep with it any longer"

Mary chuckled. "You are not a terrible parent Eustace, you just lack practice. We were all not born being good parents. It takes time" she grasped his hand "you will make an excellent father to Isabella. She is every bit like you in body as I am sure in spirit too. She is small and like all babies she wants attention. Otherwise why would she wake you up in the middle of the night if not to be held by you?"

"I need your patience" he admitted the purple bags under his eyes now more evident.

"You don't need it, you have it already. I will help you, we will raise our child together" she promised.

She saw now the weakness in this old man's eyes. He was far from the cynic and cold, calculated image of the ambassador that his enemies painted of him to vilify him. Eustace underneath his cold exterior was a man who put his friends, family, and lover above his own interests. Proof of this was that when he could have made many riches in Annency favoring the enemies of his townsfolk and his church, he chose to stay loyal to his friends and beliefs. Many criticized him and thought him a fool but he never regretted every decision he had taken in his life to help a friend in dire need.
When it came to her mother he had approached the great matter with the same attitudes of loyalty and friendship above his master's -and his own- interests. That had earned him a reprisal from Mary of Hungary and Charles and led to him being recalled back in Antwerp and in the Imperial Court where he was warned -never again- to intervene unless it was to their advantage. He pledged loyalty for a second time to his masters while mentally crossing his fingers as he uttered the words of his promise to them.

Not many would have done what he did for their lovers.

Eustace, she mused, was not like other men and no matter how hard she tried to figure him out, she would always remain a mystery to her and the rest of the world.

They had taken her from him, they had broken her, and yet she still kept a small part of her strength alive. He warned her that they would never be man and wife. He had taken holy orders something he regretted now for their child and any more children, if they decided to have more, would always be seen as bastards. It stung Mary that she had condemned their offspring to be bastards. It was a high price to pay for their love. Walking to Isabella's room where Fleming had been called to help Eustace climb the stairs, she reckoned that it was a price she would pay for a million times. Bastard or not, Isabella was a blessing not a sin.

Eustace's eyes greet her through their daughter's blue orbs that were like two giants turquoises, peering curiously at the stranger before her. It took the child a long while before she gave her mother smile and recognize her voice as the same melody that had sang to her after she had been born, and whose voice had give her the name of her grandmother, the only link Mary now had with her mother's family.

"She likes you" Eustace did not need to say it as Mary rocked the little child giving it various kisses that earned her more smiles and giggles.

"God she is exactly like you" she said in awe locking her eyes with her daughter's. Come what may ... it was a phrase that no longer caused her to worry. She was dead to the world, she had lost and given up everything her mother and Eustace had fought so long for. As Mary Tudor she had lived a life of misery, met betrayal and lived in sin. For she had stopped thinking of Philip as her husband after she had lain with Eustace. She could find many reasons that could excuse her from adultery, but she chose not to think of the past any longer. Mary Tudor was dead, that was a fact. Putting the baby down and looking at Eustace's questioning eyes, she gave in response a grin. They could now start a bright new day.


A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers once more the more you review the faster this story gets updated, and we are nearing its end so I want to conclude this story by having as much reviews as I can!

To Diane Prince: To answer your review, I love your reviews girl btw. I am glad the chapter did not make you anymore sad and that you liked it, that is what I want my reviewers to feel, the emotions running high but also that they like the story and each chapter that is very important for the development of this story. And as you saw Eustace did work hard dealing with Mary's death, but now that they are together again we must not sing victory YET. Their union will not come without its obstacles. Mary's freedom after all came at a price. As for revenge ... lets just say there are surprises stored for their descendants and their enemies' at the end.

Queen Mary I of England: I love your extensive reviews and your vast amount of history girl! I really do and appreciate you like this story. I am always attentive to how I portray the characters, to some they might not appear romantic figures or as memorable characters as often characters written with the style I mentioned are remembered. I did not want to create characters whom could be put in a pedestal but rather make them more human, or as you put it "flawed" while also writing their attributes and successes, and their vices.

To everyone else I appreciate your reviews, long reviews do not bother me, quite the contrary.

Fact vs Fiction:

*You see Mary mention the confiscation of English and Flemish goods by Spain and England respectively. Is this true? Yes it is. In fact by January 5th it had become so ridiculous that the English were still detaining Flemish ships and had not given back the herrings and all the goods they had confiscated at the beginning of the war, that the Emperor did the same with English ships. Eustace and Van der Defelt though mentioned very briefly, were a rebellious bunch going against the Emperor's orders to bring relief to Flanders and to the European economy, that they met with the Privy Council and reached an agreement. Charles V did not agree but he was left with no choice as it was better than nothing.

*Dubois is an actual character, I was asked this by an author through a PM. He was Van der Defelt's secretary and he did much of his work. He was I have to say his master's equal and a very good spy of his, and cunning man as well.

Two more chapters!

You know now the drill. R/R!

~VXLP