Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.
A/N: Hello everyone! Fun fact: My cousin has recently figured out through that our direct ancestor is Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury. Apparently, my family is distantly related to Henry VIII. Thought this would be interesting to share with you guys! And hello to my new favs/followers: AlbeeLane, BabeRuthless87, eBeth093, maxberco, retta1980, baarsama, KrisDawnRulez, , Arras of France, Ashalenn, and smoldaisie.
Ch. 24
"The course oftrue love never did run smooth."
A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare
"Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love."
Love's Labour's Lost, William Shakespeare
Whitehall 14 January 1536
Ambassador Chapuys walked through the great hall of the palace, making his way from the chaos of the king‚'s business. He heading to another part of the palace to see Grace when his majesty appeared from thin air. He clapped Chapuys on the back. "Excellency," he exclaimed. He was in much higher spirits as compared to the previous weeks, a notable change to the court. He had been mourning for Catherine, in his own way of course. Only the queen and Grace could shake him out of his stupor.
"Your Majesty," Chapuys replied, the king chuckling at his expression. He led Chapuys back into the hall as he began to discuss politics with him.
"I hear your master is to be congratulated. He has taken Tunis from the Turks."
"Your Majesty is very well informed. The threat of the Turkish invasion has indeed been lifted by the emperor's victory."
"Then you should thank for my wife, for it is she who conveyed this wonderful news to me. And I am sure you know where she received that news from." The king gave Chapuys a pointed look. "It seems that the women of my court learn before their king does."
"Majesty, I…" The king let out a hearty chuckle.
"No need to apologize ambassador for I am sure that you have just been informed as I have."
"Peace will follow, I am sure majesty," Chapuys continued.
"Would that it followed everywhere," the king retorted.
"Yes, pray God. Perhaps one day there will be no more need for war or war's alarms." The king gave out another chuckle at the ambassador's words. They could only imagine such a world.
"In the meantime, please convey my love and my congratulations to the emperor." The king places his hand on Chapuys arms. "Tell him that…tell him that of all the princes in the world I admire him the most." He then turns to his secretary. "Cromwell." The man follows the king into his chambers, acknowledging Chapuys when he passes him. The two men nod to each other as courtesy demanded and Cromwell continued into the lion's den.
Cromwell followed the king through the throne room and into his private rooms, overcome with shock as the king shut the door and slammed his back against the wall. The movement did not hurt Cromwell, but it did scare him slightly. "Now the emperor's defeated the Turks, his armies are freed to turn upon us. And a while ago, I swear he would've done so. But no longer." The king releases his tight grip on Cromwell. "With Catherine's death, the cause of our enmity is altogether taken away. And I have a new desire to renew my friendship with him. You will talk to Chapuys. You will find out the cost of friendship." The king began to pace in front of Cromwell while his servant remained completely still.
"Yes, your Majesty," Cromwell replied. He did not move an inch as the king continued to circle around him.
"What of our reforms?" the king questioned.
"The bill for the dissolution of the larger monasteries will be laid before Parliament."
"Good. Mr. Cromwell." The king dismissed Cromwell with a single tilt of his head.
"Majesty." Cromwell bowed to the king, starting to depart from his chambers.
"Wait," the king spoke. "I have something else to discuss with you." Cromwell halted in his steps, waiting for the king to continue. "I have decided to bestow upon John Neville the title of Baron Neville and his brothers Christian and Arthur will be knighted. You shall alert them of this news." Cromwell stared at the king with a blank look, bowing to the king before turning on his heel. His expression immediately turned sour once his back was to the king and he scowled at such news. Grace and her family continued to rise and he needed to change that.
Meanwhile, Chapuys had made his way to Grace's chamber to discuss the alliance between the emperor and the king. The two sat across from each other at the table, the only people present. Mary was in her own chambers while Sir Thomas More was with Grace's father. She needed to talk to Chapuys alone.
"I know his majesty is looking forward to conducting an alliance between our two countries, especially since Catherine has passed. God bless her soul. Please give my regards to the emperor," Grace spoke, a thoughtful look on her face.
"I have communicated with the emperor. He, also, is eager to find a way to make a new and strong alliance. And to show his goodwill I can tell you that he is willing to persuade his Holiness Pope Paul not to publish the sentence of excommunication against the king which would have deprived him of his throne," Chapuys conveyed.
Grace raised her eyebrows, not expecting the Pope to accept such a proposal. "I know his majesty will be most appreciative, but I can assure you that he will in no way submit himself to the will of the Pope, not after all his efforts he has made to create a new church."
"I understand my lady, but the king must realize that almost the whole of Christian Europe is under his command. Furthermore, in the circumstances after the death of his beloved aunt, Queen Catherine of England the emperor is prepared to offer the king his support for the continuation of his marriage to Anne Boleyn. But on condition that the king declare Princess Mary to be his legitimate heir," Chapuys spoke.
Grace's body tensed at such a concept. "You and I both know Ambassador, that the king would never accept such a term of their alliance. And the queen would most certainly not approve."
"But what do you think my lady? Surely you have voiced such a thought to his majesty," Chapuys asked.
Grace stared at Chapuys with an incredulous look on her face. "I have done no such thing, nor have I thought of how to confront this condition. Both are surely daughters of the king, but to decide who is above the other? They are equals. They are sisters."
"They are supported by some and rejected by others. They are deemed legitimate and illegitimate depending on their supporters and enemies. You and I both know the world is cruel to them because of their statuses." Chapuys merely commented on the current situation of the politics of Europe.
"Indeed Ambassador," Grace responded.
"However, the emperor begs the king to understand it is as far as he is prepared to go," Chapuys relayed.
"Then perhaps is would be worthwhile to speak to Cromwell and not me about this matter," Grace spoke. "I cannot convince the king to legitimize Mary for it would jeopardize Elizabeth's position and the King's progress with his church. He will not be easily persuaded. Not by me, you, or Cromwell. The king is quite headstrong and knows his rights as king. It would not be wise to speak to him directly about this until he is informed of these conditions you speak of."
"Then I shall speak to Cromwell immediately my lady." Chapuys rose from his chair before bowing to Grace, Grace nodding her head respectfully at him as he left. His words echoed in her head. Could Cromwell convince the king to remove Elizabeth as his heir and replace her with Mary if it meant avoiding excommunication?
Church of St. Alfege 17 January 1536
The king and queen had finished their morning prayers in the palace chapel, walking side by side down the aisle towards Anne's ladies who waited patiently. Henry gazed at his wife lovingly, their arms interlocked and her hand resting on her swollen belly. They approached Archbishop Thomas Cranmer of Canterbury who would lead the queen outside to give alms to the poor.
"If Your Majesty will follow me," Cranmer spoke to Anne. Henry released his grip on Anne's arm, holding his hand out for her to follow Cranmer. Anne smiled at Henry, Henry also returning the smile. Anne followed Cranmer, sending one last look at her husband. His eyes remained solely on her. Anne's ladies followed her, Jane Seymour trailing behind the others. Henry had started to exit the chapel. However, Jane muttered a "majesty" to him, catching his attention. Henry nodded his head at Jane, faltering for a moment before resuming his path. Jane smiled to herself. It seemed the king's attention could wander when Grace Neville was elsewhere.
Warwick Castle
Grace could not believe it. Her brother's wife, Anne, was dead. She had died of consumption, a disease she had kept from her entire family. Richard had been left with three boys, her nephews Thomas, John, and Henry. The youngest would never know his mother, barely a year old he would have no memory of her.
The funeral procession had occurred smoothly, though Grace knew her older brother was struggling inside. She knew that her family would support him, there being enough motherly attention to be spread amongst the boys. However, she feared for her brother. How could he survive without his dear wife? His love? It was an impossible question, yet she knew he would remain strong, if not for himself, then for his children. The world seemed dark in that moment, but Grace was sure that God would aid their family in their hour of need.
24 January 1536
The king was holding a joust that day, deciding that it would do his court some good to have some entertainment. Many were still shocked at the death of Catherine, though many disguised their true feelings in regard to the king and queen. Grace had returned to court a few days after her sister-in-law's funeral, returning to her duties at court. She wished she could remain with her family, but she could not leave the queen, nor could she leave the king for long. Though she wore mourning clothes, she tried to maintain a cheery disposition for her sake. She knew the entire court would be watching her, and she needed to remain a pillar of strength for her family and its reputation.
Grace was wearing a garment of black velvet with gold accents, a matching set of gold and pearl jewelry placed upon her person. Instead of a French hood, she wore a pearl headband. Mary walked beside her as they approached the festivities by the palace. The two friends were inseparable now that Mary had been installed at court by the king. Instead of a black dress, Mary wore a gown of brown velvet and also chose to also wear pearls. Their ladies trailed behind them as they passed by the courtiers, all bowing or curtsying in respect as they passed.
The women halted in front of the king's tent, Henry emerging from the inside clad in his great armor. He smiled when he saw Grace, approaching her and Mary eagerly. Both women curtsied to the king, their ladies following suit. They held their positions, Mary's eyes held firmly to the ground while Grace stared directly into the king's eyes. Henry urged both women to rise from their curtsies, holding both hands out to aid them as they rose to their full height.
"Mary," the king spoke, kissing his daughter's hand fondly. "Would you excuse me for a moment. I wish to speak to the Lady Grace alone for a moment." Mary nodded at her father, stepping away from the pair to give them some privacy. Henry's hand still held Grace's, his grip never faltering. "I shall wear your favors today, daughter," he added. Mary beamed at her father's words, continuing to walk further away so as not to be in earshot of her friend's and father's conversations.
"I have missed you," Henry declared, brushing a piece of hair behind Grace's ear. "I am sorry for your brother's loss. His wife was a good woman."
"She is with God now and will remain forever in his care until my brother I reunited with her." Grace's face filled with sadness, Henry watching her closely.
"If your family needs anything, I am at your disposal."
"Majesty…"
"Henry…" The king had managed to make Grace smile as he bickered with her. She continued to call him majesty, though the king had given her permission several times to call him by his given name.
"Henry…" Grace muttered, pressing her free hand against the king's cheek. She caught herself as she forgot formalities and tried to remove her hand quickly to avoid gossip. However, the king grabbed her wrist, placing her palm against his face once more while his other hand held her hip. Grace sent the king an admonishing look, struggling as she tried to remove her hand again. The king would not relent, cherishing the feel of her soft palm against his face. He did not care that his court could see them. They could be damned for all he cared. "Henry, your courtiers will talk!" she whisper-shouted at him, casting a wary glance around them.
"Let them talk," Henry said, his piercing blue eyes conveying indifference to how his court would perceive their encounter. He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss on Grace's lips before she could protest. She stared up at the king incredulously, not believing that he had just showed her affection in public. "Now," he continued, ignoring the scalding look she sent him. He released his grip on her wrist and hip, allowing her to step away from him. "I think you should take your seats before the joust begins. I need to have you both in plain view so that every man here will be overcome with jealousy as I possess two of the most beautiful women in Christendom." Grace fought the smile that was trying to break out on her face at the king's compliment, but before she would allow the king to have such satisfaction, she spoke a simple "majesty," and turned on her heel to join Mary who had been waiting for her by the stands. Henry grinned at her childish behavior, chuckling to himself.
Grace continued to walk with Mary towards the stands, several courtiers bowing to them as they passed. Boleyn stiffened when they passed by, but Norfolk nodded to Grace. There was an unspoken treaty between them, between their families. Farther up the line, Grace spotted her uncle, father, and younger brother Arthur, sitting next to them as the joust began. "Father," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "Uncle." She also kissed her uncle's cheek. They were the only three who had returned to court with her after the funeral, the others remaining behind to watch over Richard and the boys.
"Grace," More responded, taking his niece's hand in his. "Lady Mary," he said respectfully. He cast a sharp glance towards the Seymours who were watching Mary. He knew they supported her, but there was another reason why they sought out Mary's favor. He was sure of it.
"The Duke of Suffolk has entered the list and will now joust with the Earl of Dorchester." The crowd began to cheer and an eruption of applauds broke out at the announcement.
Suffolk, riding wildly on his steed, showed off his riding skills to the crowd and halted in front of his wife. "For you, my lady." He referred to his winning the joust for her. Catherine giggled at her husband's antics, Lady Boleyn clapping at the display of affection.
"You've a fine husband," Jane Boleyn exclaimed. She turned her gaze to her husband, George Boleyn, and sent him a disgusted look. Catherine's husband was much more appeasing to her than George ever had been.
The riders took their positions, a page standing between them and waving a flag so the joust could begin. They kicked their horses into action, riding towards each other on opposite sides of the posts. The crowd held their breath, erupting into cheers when Suffolk struck the shield of Dorset with his lance. "Point for the Duke of Suffolk," the page announced. "Gentlemen, renew your lances."
"Is Her Majesty not attending the tournament today?" Catherine asked Jane. She was curious as to why the queen was not there to watch and support her husband.
"No. She's worried the excitements of the tournament might harm her unborn son. Or so she supposes it to be." Grace's ears perked up at the comment. She sat just below Jane and could hear the conversation clearly. Her lips tightened at Jane's words, not believing that Anne's sister-in-law could be so cruel.
"Personally, I hope she did not visit the same astrologer as before," Jane continued in a nasty tone.
Grace stood up from her seat abruptly, turning around to face Jane. "Hold your tongue Lady Jane. It may get you into some trouble if you continue as you are." Jane began to blush madly, not realizing that she had bene caught. "I suggest you seek other company my Lady Suffolk." Catherine remained silent, though she too was surprised at Jane's words and understood Grace's reaction. Grace sat back down in her seat, many of the courtiers sending her odd glances. No one, but she had apparently heard Lady Jane's words.
"It would do you well not to make a scene, daughter," Warwick commented. He disliked his daughter's ability to attract attention to herself. He worried for her safety.
"I do not think her scolding of Lady Jane has caused more of a scene than his majesty's blatant affection for her Richard," More said. He doubted that Grace's verbal lashing would cause any more of a scandal. "Do not worry, Grace. Your father is merely being cautious as all fathers should be." Grace sighed at her uncle's words, tired of her father's behavior. More leaned closer to his niece and whispered into her ear so that she could only hear his next words. "Personally, I agree that Jane Boleyn needed a talking to. Well done." Grace smirked at her uncle's words, glad that one of her father figures agreed with her actions.
Henry stepped out of his tent, ready to joust. His men had made some last-minute adjustments to his armor before it was his turn to ride. He pulled his gloves onto his hands, taking in a deep breath as he cast a look towards the jousting competition.
"Your majesty." The king's attention was diverted from the competition and he faced Jane Seymour who stood in front of him. She smiled at him sweetly and as Henry looked at her, he couldn't help but think how much she was the opposite of Anne. She wore a light blue-green dress that day, her blonde locks curled. Placed upon her head was a circlet of gold with sapphires and a cross was around her neck.
"Lady Jane. How are you enjoying today's festivities?" Henry questioned out of formality.
"They are quite exciting your majesty. I have never been to a jousting tournament."
"Well, I'm glad you could attend today," Henry spoke politely.
"I hope I'm not being so forward your majesty, but I would like to present you with my favor," Jane spoke softly. She held out her wrist, untying a light blue ribbon.
Henry was taken aback by such a request but being the gentleman he was, he only nodded at Jane and took her favor from her hands. "I will wear it with pride my lady." Henry grasped the favor in his hand and turned on his heel towards his horse. His page held the bridle of his horse patiently and waited while Henry mounted. As he adjusted the reigns in his hands, he released the favor from his grasp and it feel to the ground, forgotten and useless as it lay in the dirt. He spurred his horse into action, not sparing Lady Jane a glance as his horse galloped over her favor.
"Another point for the Duke of Suffolk. Match goes to the Duke of Suffolk."
Grace saw it all, a victorious smirk on her face when she saw Jane's favor fall from the king's hand. However, she saw Boleyn give Seymour a frightening scowl.
"His Majesty the king has entered the list and will now joust a la plaisance with Sir Henry Norris." The crowd applauds at the announcement.
"Well done, Charles," Seymour said as Suffolk walked through the stands towards his wife.
"Well done, my love," Catherine stated, kissing Charles lovingly.
"Thank you," Charles responded, the couple turning their attention to the jousting competition. Jane joined her family in the stands, Boleyn casting a glare in her direction. Meanwhile, Henry showed off to the crowds, 1st asking Mary for her favor and then galloping around the posts and yelling to his courtiers. The crowd went wild, clapping for their king's riding skills.
The king and Norris donned their helmets at opposite sides of the field and took their lances from their squires. Both adjusted themselves in the saddle, preparing for the joust. They both nodded to the page that they were ready, the man waving a flag to signal the start of the jousting. Both men spurred their horses into action, their horses galloping towards each other across the field. Norris' lance connected with the king's shield and he wobbled in the saddle. He was unseated and fell from his horse into the post, the animal falling on him for a moment. The courtiers rose to their feet, gasping at the sight. He let out a shout of pain as the steed crushed him. He then lay motionless on the ground, unconscious. The crowd was silent, waiting for the king to show any signs of life, but he didn't.
Grace had risen to her feet along with the other courtiers, grasping her father's hand tightly as she waited for the king to push himself off the ground. When she saw that he didn't she panicked, rushing from the stands to the king. "Henry!" she shouted. "Henry!" She fell to her knees, pushing him over onto his back. He had been knocked unconscious, either by the pain or his injuries she did not know. More followed behind her, aiding her as she turned over.
Mary had been frozen by fear as she watched her father lay motionless on the ground. Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach at the sight and she couldn't move until Charles burst into action. "Move! Move!" Charles shouted, himself also rushing from the stands to aid Grace. Boleyn and George followed suit, rushing to the side of the king while Mary ran to the sides of Grace and More who had taken off his helmet. He was bleeding from a wound on his forehead, sweat and dirt sticking to the skin on his face.
"Is he dead? Is he dead?" George questioned.
Dr. Linacre was among the courtiers who swarmed around the king and he knelt on te ground to examine the wound that Grace had uncovered. When he spoke, he directed his statement to Charles, insulting Grace. It seemed Dr. Linacre would only speak to the men of court. "Take him with all care into the pavilion where I may serve him better. And pray for him." The Seymours, Boleyns, Charles, and a few other courtiers lifted the king onto their shoulders and began to carry him to his personal tent. Mary and Grace followed, Charles having motioned for them to come into the tent with him. He would not deny them entry into the king's tent, both of them being closest to the king. However, Grace pulled Mary aside to speak with her privately for a moment, her eyes warily following after the king as he was carried to his tent.
"Mary, you must go to the queen and explain to her what has happened. Her ladies will upset her in her condition, and she does not need that. You must go to her and tell her what has happened while I stay with the Duke of Suffolk. I fear that Dr. Linacre will say that he can do nothing for your father and threaten his life. Do you understand?"
Mary could only nod her head, Grace squeezing her hand in thanks. She did not wish to go to the queen, but Grace was right. She knew nothing about medicine whereas Grace might know some way to help the king. She had much more knowledge in the arts of medicine than she, "My brother will escort you," she continued. "My father will stay with the king in case…in case something should happen." Both women's eyes began to flood with tears, but they held them back as they took off in different directions. Grace headed to the pavilion whereas Mary, along with Grace's brother Arthur, went directly to the queen's chambers to tell her what had occurred.
Unfortunately, Madge Shelton had hurried to the queen's rooms after seeing the accident occur. She ran into the queen's chambers yelling, "Madam. Madam. Oh, madam."
"Madge? What is it? What's happened?" the queen questioned. Madge remained silent, not telling the queen why she was so frantic in her behavior. It irritated Anne who snapped her fingers at her lady-in-waiting. "Madge, what's happened?"
"Oh, madam the king has fallen from his horse and has been crushed. They…They say he is likely to die." The queen's face fell at the news and her pale face turned even whiter. Anne grasped Madge's hand, her small hand leaving an imprint in Madge's arms. She held her pregnant belly protectively and began to breath heavily. Mary and Arthur came into the room, Mary analyzing Anne's expression.
"Madam," Mary spoke calmly, "You must not excite yourself. Grace is with the king now and will do anything to make sure he lives." Though she had ill thoughts of Anne, she felt sympathy for the woman who called herself her father's wife and England's queen. She had never seen Anne so weak and now, Anne appeared broken and lost.
"Oh Mary," Anne cried, reaching for her stepdaughter. "No, no, no. Oh, say it's not so." Anne was speaking in whispers her prayers as she almost collapsed in her stepdaughter's arms. Mary could only wrap her arms around the queen, fearful for her unborn sibling. She was completely surprised when Anne threw herself into her arms. She thought that Anne hated her. "Oh, no, no. Oh, no, please, no. Oh, God. Please say it's not so. No, no." Mary could only comfort her stepmother as best as she could, also praying that her father had not been lost to her, that her father had not been lost to England or else her fate would further be changed.
It was chaos in the king's tent, guards posted at the inner chambers so only a few courtiers were let inside. Those particular few included Charles Brandon, Warwick, Norfolk, John Seymour, Edward Seymour, Henry Norris, Doctor Linacre, Thomas More, and finally, Grace herself. Thomas Boleyn and George Boleyn had gone back to Whitehall to contain order in the realm. Grace stood behind the other men, biting her lip nervously and pacing as Dr. Linacre examined the king's condition. The king had been laid out on a table and Linacre had made no move to remove his armor. His helmet had been taken off when Grace had done so on the jousting field.
"His heart is very weak. I don't know if he will come back to us," Dr. Linacre spoke to the men within the tent. Charles leaned on the table the king had been placed on, a serious look on his face as he weighed the consequences of the king's death in his mind. If he died from the accident, England would be plunged into Civil War.
"Will you bleed him?" Charles questioned.
"I don't think so, Your Grace. I do not see it will help him. His Majesty is now in the hands of God."
"God's hands? His life is in God's hands? You said the same thing about my life and look where I am? Standing in front of you, living and breathing. What is wrong with you?" Grace's outburst surprised the others as she stood defiantly in the middle of the tent. "You haven't even done anything. Why have you not removed his armor?" All of the men stared at her in disbelief. She was questioning the king's own physician, a man who was trusted in his medical capacity to protect the king's life at all costs.
Linacre looked at Grace with a shocked expression. He had no idea why a woman was present during such a time, but no one corrected her for her words. Charles nodded his head, looking for an explanation from Linacre. "There is no reason to. I have examined his wound and there is nothing I can do for it. It is internal and I cannot bleed his majesty without his permission."
"Oh, for Christ's sake man! He's unconscious!" Charles exclaimed. "Remove his armor." The other physicians hesitated for a moment until they saw the furious expression on Charles face. They looked to Linacre who nodded at the duke's order and they began to remove the king's armor piece by piece. The king's undershirt was soaked through with sweat, a good sign as there was no blood. However, the king's breeches showed an entirely different matter. A rip appeared on the thigh of the king's breeches, blood seeping through. A piece of Norris' lance had pierced the king's legs and an old ulcer that had sealed had burst open once more.
"Once again you have proved your incompetency Master Linacre," Grace spoke harshly. She snatched a cloth from one of the physicians, wiping the blood away from the wound. "His breeches need to be cut so that the wound can be examined more clearly." The room went silent at her words and she internally screamed. "Well, don't just stand there!" she exclaimed. "You are supposed to heal the king, not let him die!" The physicians burst into action at her words and began to cut away the material of the king's breeches to remove the broken off piece of the lance and to uncover the ulcer. One of the physicians removed the piece of the lance from the king's leg, lacing a cloth over the injury to stop the bleeding. However, the ulcer was another matter. It was bleeding profusely, and it looked like pus was rising to the surface. The men halted at the sight of it, unable to continue.
Dr. Linacre examined the wound, though he too was puzzled at how to go about it. "What will you do?" Norfolk questioned this time.
"I think it would be best to close up the wound your grace."
Grace stared at Linacre angrily, baffled at his suggestion.
"Are you sure just cleaning and closing the wound is wise Master Linacre?" More asked. "I would advise that you did such a thing when the injury first occurred so performing such the second time does not seem to be a correct procedure to me." Linacre appeared flustered at More's statement, his hands shaking as he tended the king's wound. "You must cauterize the area. You cannot just sew it shut or use poultices to draw the toxins out. His majesty needs a more permanent solution so that his life will not be in any further danger." Linacre nodded at More's words. He could say nothing but thought it suitable to just agree with More's proposal.
"If I am to perform such a procedure, I will need you to hold him down your grace. He may wake up from the pain." More and Charles stepped forward, one pressing on the king's chest while the other contained his legs.
"Then do it," Warwick spoke sharply. "We do not have time for the king's permission. His life is at stake." Norfolk agreed with him, nodding his head. Linacre could only follow orders, turning to his assistant who began to clean out the king's wound. Blood, pus, pieces of the lance, and even some damaged tissue was wiped from the wound. Another assistant appeared to be holding a knife over a fire that had been started in the king's tent. Grace flinched at the sight, not being able to stand the fact that the king would be in excruciating pain in a moment.
Linacre nodded, his assistant handing him the hot steel. He halted for a moment, Charles and More preparing themselves for the king to reawaken at the touch of the burning steel. He took in a deep breath, placing his hand on the king's thigh and pressing the steel against the flesh. The king awakened with a loud scream, More and Charles using all of their strength to make sure the king did not harm himself further. He thrashed about on the table, not understanding why his men were holding him down while his leg felt like it was on fire. Grace couldn't stand the sight, turning her face away as tear drifted down her face. Her father stood beside her, cringing at the king's scream. "Fuck's sake," Henry yelled, trying to pry More's hands from his chest.
"Majesty you must remain still!" More exclaimed, but Henry continued yelling. He thrashed about on the table, turning his body in every direction so as to break free from the grips of More and Suffolk.
Grace stepped forward, coming into view of Henry. She saw the anger in his blue eyes and his confusion at her presence. "Majesty," she spoke, moving forward to try and soothe him, but he continued his erratic behavior until he passed out again from the pain. Linacre removed the steel from the king's skin, revealing an ugly, red, and irritated piece of flesh that was now cauterized. Charles and More relaxed, the men releasing their grips on the king.
"Now all we can do is wait," Linacre muttered, stepping away from the king and falling to his knees in prayer. The others followed suit, falling to their knees as they prayed for the king to awaken once more. Charles motioned for Grace to kneel at the side of the king, his eyes seeking her out at the back of the tent. Grace stepped forward, wiping her eyes as she reached for the king's hand.
Crying silently, Grace whispered to herself, "Please God, please don't take him from me. Please don't take away the man I love. Let me tell him so. Let me tell him that I love him." She held the king's hand firmly in hers as she pressed a kiss to the top of his hand and placed it back on his chest. "Don't take him from Anne. She needs him more than I do. Let him see his child." Everyone remained silent as they prayed. All they could do was wait.
Anne and Mary knelt side by side in the chapel at Whitehall, praying profusely that the king would awaken. Suddenly, Anne kissed the marble floor, laying herself out on her pregnant belly before the crucifix of Jesus Christ. Mary could only glance at her, amazed at such a sight. Anne opened herself to God in that moment, entirely giving herself up to him in her time of need.
Jane Seymour knelt in the dirt next to the king's tent, praying as well. Many courtiers gathered around the entrance of the tent, trying to push past each other to glance a sight of the king. But Jane remained in her position on the ground, not caring that her dress would be ruined. All she cared for was the king's miraculous recovery.
Anne and Mary heard footsteps approaching them in the chapel, Anne turning her head to spot Cromwell whereas Mary's remained facing forward. She would not dare open her eyes to see the intruder as she and Anne prayed together. Cromwell nodded to the queen as formality demanded while Anne once again nodded her head downwards as she prayed. Cromwell joined her, kneeling on the marble floor to pray for the king's life.
The occupants of the tent remained praying for over an hour, no sign of movement from the king. It wasn't until Charles spoke that the courtiers realized the king was awake. His eyes darted back and forth across the ceiling, a sharp intake of breath alerting the others.
"Your Majesty?" Linacre questioned, he and Charles standing over the king. Murmuring erupted in the tent at the king's awakening. He slightly tilted his head to the side, searching for something. The courtiers did not know until he spoke.
"Grace?" the king uttered softly, Grace having remained kneeling when the others started to examine the conscious king. Her head shot up at the sound of her voice, her green eyes searching the king's blue ones.
Suffolk let out a relieved laugh. "Oh, thank God. He's alive." The men rejoiced at the king's miraculous recovery, laughing and hugging one another. However, Grace rose from her kneeling position, a few tears streaming down her face as she reached for the king's hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it.
"I'm here," Grace whispered. She held the king's calloused hand tightly in her small, soft ones. The king noticed her hard grip, but her body was trembling from adrenaline rushing through her veins. He slowly lifted his left hand up, brushing Grace's hair from her face and cupping her cheek. Grace leaned her cheek into his hand, closing her eyes slightly and savoring the moment for she wouldn't get one for a while, not when all his courtiers and doctors would be swarming about him. "I love you," she all but whispered to the king.
Henry's eyes lit up at the words, a weak smile breaking out on his face. "I had to almost die for you to say that to me." Grace chuckled at his words, a few more happy tears falling down her face. She nodded her head, pressing a kiss into the king's palm. They stayed that way a few more seconds, More and Warwick watching the scene intently.
Warwick shook his head, but More could only think of how Grace was feeling. He could only remember the look of happiness and relief that appeared across his dear Alice's face when he was spared from death. His niece had the same look on her face as she shared a moment with the king. In that instant, he knew Grace truly loved the king. He only hoped it would not destroy her in the end.
A/N: Comments?