A/N: Alright, everyone. And as it is the beginning of not only a new year, but a new decade as well, I have decided to start it off right. So, as promised, here is a brand new, super long chapter for your reading pleasure ladies and gentlemen. Thank you to Frog1, emilia. lozano .el, Jamestudor, Vwchick, Crockett Rocket, Guest, tricorvus, and Robin4 for all of the wonderful reviews on the previous chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors or any of the characters, Showtime does.

…

January 5th, 1544

Mary sighed happily as she returned to her chambers for the evening. She couldn't believe her good fortune! Her father had finally consented to allow her to marry. And even more wonderful, the man would be one who truly loved her.

She had not expected to marry this Protestant duke, but nevertheless she had indeed lost her heart to him.

Her one-time friend and confidant Eustace Chapuys had once told her such a man was not a good match for her, even constantly mentioning her dear departed mother, stating that she would weep if her daughter married a heretic.

While he did not worship as she did, Mary could see that Phillip loved God as she did, and his faith was beyond questioning. His faith, his kindness, and his love for life itself were all just some of the many reasons Mary found herself able to say that she deeply and truly loved him and that she could not wait until the pair pledged themselves to one another in the sight of God and man, which thankfully would be before the month was out. At least that's what her father had said. Then when spring came, Mary would sail to Bavaria to Phillip's estate.

Despite her happiness at being married at long last, a part of Mary felt a bit sad that she would no longer reside at court with her little half-siblings, all of whom she had become so close to in the last few years.

Once she left England, she would be able to write to them of course, and perhaps she might be able to return to England at some point, but a part of her still felt a bit sad at the idea of being so far from them.

But it wasn't long before her joy once more overpowered her sadness. She was finally getting married! And she wasn't just being pawned off for political gain, yes her father would enjoy a benefit from being allied with the German and Bavarian Providences, but Mary could still take the greatest comfort in knowing she would be bound to a man who cared for her and saw her as more than just a prize to be had.

"Mary?"

The once-princess turned to see Margery standing before her.

"Margery, I thought you had gone to bed hours ago," Mary stated. "What is it?"

"If you marry Phillip and go to Bavaria, will we ever see you again?" Margery asked, her normally merry blue eyes looking troubled.

Mary sighed softly and wrapped her arms around her little sister's shoulders, which she noted were trembling slightly.

"Phillip and I will more than likely visit England from time to time," she answered, choosing her words carefully. "But sister, you must understand this is all part of the very existence of marriage. You and Elizabeth shall marry someday too, and when you do, you will go to the country of wherever your husband lives. When Elizabeth marries the Duke of Angouleme, she will then go to France to live with him."

"And if Harry marries the Infanta Juana, will he have to go to Spain?" Margery asked.

Mary shook her head.

"No, Margery. Should they marry, Harry will stay right here. He is to be king, he can't rule this land from another."

Margery nodded, now understanding.

"But just because we will be apart, it doesn't mean we can't still write to one another," Mary continued, stroking Margery's curls. "And even if I am far away, I shall still love you. All of you."

Margery wrapped her arms around Mary's waist. She was truly happy that her sister finally had been given her greatest wish, but the young princess would still miss her terribly.

"Now, you'd better be going back to your chambers before Lady Catherine comes looking for you," Mary suggested with a small wry smirk, earning a soft giggle from Margery as the latter nodded.

"Goodnight, Mary," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Margery."

...

King Henry was in a very merry mood indeed.

He had been preparing for a morning ride when he had happened upon the sight of Mary walking with her intended, Duke Phillip, in the gardens. Princess Anne of Cleves, along with a few of the ladies and gentlemen from Anne's entourage, accompanied them, ensuring that the couple were not alone together.

It made the king's heart feel light for once; his daughter was now to be married and it was a fine match, especially when one took into account her illegitimate status.

He had also been pleased to receive word from Dr. Linacre that Harry's strength had now returned. The strain of his ordeal had now finally left him and he was once more the energetic and happy boy he had been before the poisoning.

Yes, life was going wonderfully for Henry.

"Your Majesty, a letter has arrived from Emperor Charles," Cromwell reported as he entered the room, the parchment in his hand.

Henry's mood immediately darkened.

"Ah, I see he's finally sent word back concerning the dealing's of his foul ambassador," he growled. "Ambassador. A murderous traitor would be more suitable a term. Give it to me."

Cromwell reluctantly handed the letter to his liege, who broke the wax seal and began to read, his eyes skimming over the words.

After a few moments however, Henry's glare became a cold, but triumphant smirk.

"It appears Emperor Charles wholeheartedly supports my intentions in dealing with Chapuys," he said. "See for yourself."

The chancellor took the letter from the king's hand and when his eyes regarded the words, written in Emperor Charles's own hand, his heart sank.

"My Lord Wiltshire," Henry turned to George.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"What, pray tell, is the punishment for treason?" Henry noted the look of grim satisfaction slowly gracing George's features, a sentiment he shared completely. Chapuys had conspired to murder his son, the true heir to the English throne, the man deserved his fate.

"Death, sire," George answered.

"And Lord Suffolk," the king's focus now shifted on Charles Brandon, who visibly stiffened, "What method of execution is reserved specifically for poisoners?"

Brandon immediately felt sick.

"B-boiling to death, Your Majesty," he answered after a few moments. "But, Your Majesty, is this truly necessary?"

"I believe it is entirely necessary," Henry snarled. "The bastard attempted to kill a Prince of England! The heir to the throne!"

"Your Majesty, let us not forget that Brereton also confessed to the attempted assassination of Queen Anne at her coronation," George pointed out. "He also admitted that Chapuys had a hand in that effort as well."

Brandon's eyes widened in horror.

At Anne's coronation, she had been carrying her, and Henry's, daughter Elizabeth. While a part of him couldn't necessarily see her as a true princess, for he still believed that that right belonged to Princess Mary, and he could never really acknowledge Anne as queen, despite aiding in her ascension to the throne, something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. But even with all of those things in mind, he found he could never condone the murder of a child, particularly one who hadn't even been born yet. Elizabeth's existence had spelled the end of Mary ever being Princess of England again, but she was innocent of her father and mother's actions.

Even with all that Anne had done, and what Henry had done for her sake, it did not justify allowing harm to come to Elizabeth...or even her brothers.

And Charles knew better than anyone that Henry was a man driven by pride and personal satisfaction. If he wanted something, or someone, he would always find a way to obtain it, and he would not let anyone hinder him. After all, this was the same man who banished his sister and only immediate family who remained in England purely because she had bruised his pride.

Charles had blamed Anne for what had happened, but if the events of the last few years, particularly the Pilgrimage of Grace, had taught the Duke of Suffolk anything, it was that King Henry would do as he wished, regardless of what even those close to him thought. And as a result, both Charles's conscience and his marriage now suffered greatly.

...

"Ambassador Chapuys has been implicated as well in the attempted murder of the twins," Edward said as he took his ease in the sitting room just outside of his sister's chambers.

Jane looked worried.

"But what role did he have in that?" she asked quietly.

"From what I gathered, he is the one who supplied Brereton with the poison and convinced him that it would be of great benefit to the Lady Mary were he to succeed."

"Princess Mary would never agree to that!" Dorothy Seymour gasped.

Edward seized his sister by the shoulder and shook her roughly.

"How many times must I tell you silly girls to mind what you say!" he hissed. "Norfolk and Wiltshire have spies everywhere that would be more than happy to bring them word of your treasonous sentiments! We are surrounded by enemies, sisters."

"But I am still the queen," Jane spoke up, albeit with her tone a bit worried.

"You are queen in name only," Edward reminded her. "And there are a number of people who would be glad to see you set aside in favor of a one they consider to be a more suitable queen."

"I have given the king a son as well as a daughter," Jane said hotly. "Legitimate children."

"But the majority of people in England, and elsewhere as well, believe Harry and Geoffrey to be legitimate, along with their sister Elizabeth," her brother growled. "And in spite of how many times I have told you to do so, you still insist on persisting in your childish displays of dislike toward them. No one said you had to truly love or even like them, but you could at least give the impression that you do. The king has already been made aware of your true feelings toward them. It's a miracle it hasn't already caused him to show more favor to them, favor that could have easily been Edward and Margery's!"

"You can't speak to me this way," Jane frowned, her voice trembling a bit more now, but her eyes filled with anger. "I am the Queen of England!"

"Then act like one!" Edward retorted. "True queens never reveal their true feelings, particularly to their enemies.

With one last look of disgust at his foolish sisters, the Duke of Somerset stormed from the room.

...

"I win again, Edward."

Geoffrey couldn't help but smirk as Edward frowned at the chessboard.

"That's the third time, Geoffrey," the younger prince pouted.

"Little brother, I'm not going to simply let you win," Geoffrey replied with a small chuckle. "You'll have to earn your victory."

"Papa's the same way when he loses games," Harry snickered from where he had sat watching his brothers play. "At least that's what Uncle George told me."

"Did he tell you about the match with King Francis at the Field of the Cloth of Gold?" Geoffrey asked.

Harry and Edward shook their heads.

Geoffrey grinned.

"Hal told me about it. It happened long before any of us were born," the Duke of York explained. "Papa and King Francis were negotiating a treaty between France and England, and the whole time they kept comparing English and French things, and finally Papa demanded a wrestling match. And then he threw a tantrum when he lost."

"How did Hal know that?" Harry asked.

"His father, Lord Suffolk, told him," Geoffrey answered.

"How lucky for England Harry doesn't have a temper," Edward said, giving his oldest brother a mischievous smirk. "One could only imagine how he'd react should he lose a game."

Henry glared playfully and laughed.

"Not I, Ed," he stated, his gaze shifting to his twin. "But were it Geoffrey, I'd pity any other European monarch that excited his temper."

Geoffrey reached for the cushion on his chair and tossed it at his brother. And before long, all three boys were pelting each other with cushions and pillows.

...

Eustace Chapuys knew he was marked for death.

No one had said a word, but he did not need to be told to know what had happened.

Brereton had once fervently stated that even if he were captured, he wouldn't breathe a word of who aided him in his quest. But Chapuys had quickly pointed out that should he be tortured, he would break and confess everything.

And now he had. And in doing so, he had placed not only his, but Chapuys's head on the block as well.

Emperor Charles, who was now seeking an alliance with Henry, even offering his daughter as a bride to one of the harlot's bastard sons as a means of further enticing King Hentry to agree to the offer. He was once again at odds with King Francis, and were the French and English monarchs to ally with one another and leave him isolated, even Spain, the dominant power of Europe, would be vulnerable, particularly when one also considered the Protestant League was also allied with England.

And so, despite Chapuys's many years of loyal service and efficiency, the emperor would not be coming to his aid.

Chapuys was on his own.

Four guards had been stationed outside the door of his quarters, with Chapuys forbidden to leave, and no one permitted to enter.

The door opened and Chapuys found his apprehension increased when he caught sight of the man who had entered. It was none other than George Boleyn, the Duke of Wiltshire, and brother of the whore Anne Boleyn.

"Ambassador Chapuys, I am here to escort you to the Tower where you will await execution, to be determined by the king's pleasure," he said, reading from the roll of parchment in his hand, the warrant for Chapuys's arrest.

Chapuys said nothing, but his face had become ashen as the full weight of the words rested upon it.

Brereton had failed in the attempt to end the boys who should have never come into being.

It had all been for nothing. And now, they were both going to die for it.

...

Mary was shocked when she heard the news. And then she was furious.

How could Eustace have ever believed this was what Mary, or her mother, had wanted?

Mary had been unhappy that she had been robbed of her proper place in the succession and indignant on her mother's behalf, but she couldn't believe Eustace would seek to destroy children. And she knew that had Katherine lived, she would have never wished death on even her rival's children. For all of Anne's faults, it was not Elizabeth or even the twins' fault that their mother had made the choices that she had.

The future Duchess of Bavaria was slowly coming to terms with the fact that her father had made his decisions himself. If he had wanted to declare Mary a bastard, he would, and he did. If Anne had not given him the children he wanted, he could have easily dissolved their relationship and sought out another woman who could give him the sons he so desperately desired, if not Jane then some other woman. In fact, it might have just as easily been that had he decided to, Mary's mother would have been set aside anyway. He had made it plain that his main reason for his wanting an annulment to begin with was because Katherine had only ever given him a daughter, and his mistress Bessie Blount had given him a son. Her father was a superstitious man and so to his way of thinking, the arrival of Henry Fitzroy had been a sign that he should take a new wife, a new wife that could have just as easily been another woman rather than Anne.

And, though she wished she could say otherwise, Anne had once attempted to reach out to Mary, in her own way. But Mary had been determined to show the woman who had supplanted her mother just where she stood in the king's daughter's esteem. And not only that, but had Mary accepted the offer, she would have felt as though she were betraying her beloved mother, and Queen Katherine had already suffered enough.

Nevertheless, Anne had tried for her. But, and she noted this, Jane had made no such attempts for Elizabeth or Harry and Geoffrey.

Mary sighed. It was all so much to handle at one time...Chapuys and Jane...two people whom she had loved and trusted so much...both had turned out to be wolves in sheep's clothing. For all of their smiles and sweet words, both had turned out to be so vile.

And from this day forward, she found she wanted no connection to either of them.

...

He had failed.

Brereton stared out the window of his cell. He knew he was going to die. And worst of all, he had failed in his mission to help save England. The twin whelps still lived, as did their sister.

He had vowed that he had been up for the task, but now here he was, condemned to die a traitor's death. And worst of all, he had done exactly as Ambassador Chapuys had predicted; he had confessed under torture. He hadn't been brave enough. There was no way he would receive the mercy he would have if he had done as the pope wished.

With a defeated sigh, the man slumped against the wall of his cell. Even death would not bring him peace. Nor would his execution. He had been informed not one hour ago that tomorrow would be his last day on Earth, and it would end by means of a poisoner's death; boiling in hot oil or water.

All was lost, and he had only his own weakness to blame.

...

Eustace turned as the door opened and gasped.

"Princess Mary!" he exclaimed softly, rising to bow to the princess. "I cannot believe it."

"Lady Mary, thank you, sir," Mary replied stiffly.

Chapuys stared at her. Had he heard her correctly.

"You tried to have my brothers and sister killed," Mary frowned. "Why?"

"Your Highness, they usurped you of your rightful place as princess," Chapuys said frantically. "And the king had taken leave of his senses and broke away from the true faith! All because of that wretched whore!"

"He would have done so even if she had never been part of the matter," Mary stated placidly. "My mother would have been set aside no matter whom the king chose to take her place. If not Anne, it might have even been Jane or perhaps he would have sought a marriage elsewhere. Perhaps a bride that would strengthen an alliance, I'm told that Christina, the Duchess of Milan is quite lovely."

"The emperor would have never consented for his niece to supplant her own family!" Chapuys insisted.

"He would if it were convenient for him," Mary's gaze remained cold as ice. "Were it to present advantage to him, he would have gladly supported the match. "As you so eloquently told me once, I am not his subject. Nor was my mother. She ceased to be a subject of Spain the moment she married my father. And when she died, the emperor was fully prepared to wash his hands of me and seek an alliance with my father, regardless of his previous determination to support my mother and I. Clearly his family devotion has its limitations."

Chapuys said nothing, unable to believe that this was the same young woman who had once stood so strong against this injustice. And yet now, here she was, a part of this madness! How had everything gone so wrong?

"Goodbye, Ambassador Chapuys," Mary got to her feet, and turned to the door. "May God have mercy on your soul."

And with that, Lady Mary Tudor closed the door and walked away. Away from Chapuys, Brereton, the tower, aaway from the entire unhappy past in which she had languished for so long, and forward to the future that awaited her.

...

...

Alright, everyone, I do hope you all enjoyed that extremely long chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. The next chapter will be out on Monday, January 6th.

Until then, everyone.