Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.

A/N: Hello to my first favs/followers: AshlyKagome15, HPuni101, HermioneandMarcus, RandomFandoming, SailorZelda94, .pantell, 10868letsgo, LoveTheBadGuys77, UnitedLuck, Aryastark21, audra626, ryuuraidernight, wickedinnocent, cutiepie102, 35, and xXxAngel-With-A-ShotgunxXx.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SCENES THAT MAY BE OFFENSIVE TO SOME VIEWERS. THE TOPIC OF RAPE IS PRESENT.

Ch. 2

Don't depend too much on anyone in this world because even your own shadow leaves you when you are in darkness.

~Taqî ad-Dîn Aḥmad ibn Taymiyyah

Nothing is unobtainable to the sword.

~Lord Dunsany

Greenwich Palace 18 February 1536

Anne was holding a celebration in her rooms for her stepdaughter's birthday, much to the surprise of Grace and Mary. It seemed Anne had developed an affinity for her stepdaughter, Mary having bonded with her when the king's life had been threatened a month ago. For the occasion, Anne had donned a dark blue gown, her diadem sparking in her hair as she effortlessly walked around the room. Mary wore the same color as her stepmother, Anne having the gown made especially for her so they would match. Meanwhile, Grace wore a simple cream gown adorned with pearls and a French headdress.

"Your Majesty," Sir Henry Norris said, taking Anne's hand and kissing it respectfully. "Lady Mary," he also murmured as Mary and Grace trailed past, though he did not kiss her hand as he did Anne's. After all, Mary was still a follower of the Catholic faith and had not conformed to her father's church.

"Madam." Nan entered the queen's chamber, Jane Boleyn on her heels. She curtsied to the queen. "Lady Rochford." Mary stepped back to give the queen some privacy whereas Grace remained next to Anne.

"Lady Rochford, what can I do for you?" Anne had an irritated expression on her face as she guided her sister-in-law away from the other courtiers to speak to her in private.

"You could ask your brother to be kind to me. He is cruel in every way." Anne's face softened at her words, not thinking that her brother could be so harsh to his wife. However, he knew that George disliked Jane because of her gossiping abilities.

"Come now, I don't believe you," Anne spoke, giving Jane a doubtful look. Grace also spared Jane the same expression.

Jane looked behind her, her gaze falling on Mark Smeaton. "There are others that he has preferred to me," Jane whispered under her breath. Anne and Grace turned around to look at Mark, the musician bowing when he noticed the women's gazes on him.

"Hush," Anne spoke, rubbing Jane's back in a comforting manner.

"You don't understand. He does not treat me as his proper wife, as the king treats you." Anne's jaw clenched at the words "proper wife," her eyes flickering over to Jane who the king had bestowed an inappropriate amount of attention on. Unbeknownst to Anne, Grace was glaring fiercely at Jane while Anne faced Lady Rochford once more. Jane, feeling a gaze on her, looked around to see Grace's furious glare on her. As soon as her eyes connected with Grace's, she immediately tore her eyes away, her face turning red at the negative attention.

Anne once again turned her gaze on Jane, her eyes narrowing at the mousy girl. "Let me tell you something, Lady Rochford." Anne's voice rose as she talked to Lady Rochford, her anger at her husband taking over. "The king cannot satisfy a woman. He has neither the skill, nor the virility." Anne hastened away from Jane, heading back into her inner chambers to get away from the crowds. Meanwhile, Grace stayed behind to speak to Lady Rochford.

"It would be wise, Lady Rochford, if you talked to the queen in a private setting or perhaps, had never mentioned the king at all. As you know, his eye tends to wonder to women not deserving of his attention. Women who have no education and open their legs like the sluts they are." Grace's insult was completely directed at Jane and all the courtiers looked at the blond-haired woman who had the decency to remain quiet. A triumphant smile appeared on Grace's face as she walked away from Jane to follow Anne. She had exerted her authority over Jane once more, Jane remaining silent instead of speaking up for herself. It made the courtiers wonder why the king's attention had diverted from two powerful, opinionated women to a silent mouse.

20 February 1536

There was a banquet held that evening, the court emerging from its saddened stupor and into gaiety with the hope of spring. Henry and Anne sat side by side though they barely talked to one another. They maintained the presence of monarchs, yet the courtiers knew there was a change occurring.

Grace watched the facade with a puckered brow and grimace on her face as she downed another chalice of wine. She stood with her father, uncle, and brothers, the exception being Richard who was still at their estate. More watched his niece with a concerned look in his eye as she finished her fifth drink. She never drank that much, and he knew it was because of the stress of the last month.

"Perhaps you should stop drinking, darling," More muttered to his niece. Grace gave him a harsh glare, holding her goblet out as a page passed so he could refill it.

"I think I am more than capable of monitoring what I drink, uncle." Grace took another sip from her goblet, practically chugging the red liquid down her throat. Warwick gave his daughter a disapproving look but said nothing. He too knew the stress that Grace had undergone the past month and he looked to the king who had his eyes glued on Grace. He didn't even notice as Warwick stared at him, analyzed him as he solely focused on Grace. He was sure the king did not understand how the toll of his actions were affecting Grace.

"In fact, if you are so worried I may be intoxicated then perhaps a dance would ease your thoughts." Grace turned to her brother John, handing him her goblet, while she reached her hand out to her brother Christian. Arthur raised an eyebrow at her having never seen his older sister in this state. "Come brother, let's dance." She tugged her brother's hand, pulling him into the middle of the hall to partake in the next dance. Christian willingly followed his sister onto the floor, the two of them standing across from each other as the music started.

"I worry for her," More stated to Warwick. "She's falling to pieces all because of the king's indiscretion, though I believe it is not what it seems."

"The Seymours are an old family, their line going back to royalty as I have heard. Though most of their ancestors had been knights as Sir John is," Warwick remarked.

"They are meddling, father," John added. "I can see it in the sons' eyes, Edward and Thomas. They are using their sister for favor, though they expect her to be more than the king's mistress."

Warwick scoffed at his son's words. "They think to dispose of the queen? Impossible. The king would never do such a thing. The king would never go back on his word and annul his marriage to Anne. It would go against his entire reformation."

"Richard, if he did so it would seem he would be returning to the Catholic Faith. The king would never risk such a move," More said. However, as he watched the Seymours he felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew never to underestimate a man's ambition, especially if it involved a woman.

Christian bowed while Grace curtsied before their hands touched slightly as they moved around in a circle. They switched positions, turning in the other direction. "What are you doing, sister?" Christian whispered. Grace merely smirked at her brother as they performed the steps of the dance together.

"What Christian? Aren't we supposed to be happy? Aren't we supposed to dance?" Grace giggled at her own words. Christian narrowed his eyes at his sisters behavior, knowing the wine had gone to her head. Still, he continued to follow the steps of the dance that he and his siblings had had drilled into their heads as a part of their schooling. He looked up at the king who had strained look on his face as he watched Grace as she danced across the floor. She purposefully glanced at the king, smiling broadly in a mocking manner as she laughed in her brother's arms. She was playing him, showing him that she would bestow her attention on anyone else but him.

Henry stared down at Grace as she danced with her brother, a fierce glare on his face. His hands gripped his chair harshly, Anne noticing her husband's discomfort as Grace flaunted herself before them. She knew this was some sort of punishment for her husband's actions and she grinned to herself. If she could not make him suffer, then Grace was sure to find a way.

"He's watching you, but you already know that don't you?" Grace smirked at her brother, nodding her head slightly and laughing again. She twirled in his arms, the pace of the music picking up as well as the speed of the dance. Grace's back slammed into her brother's front, the dance ending as Christian held a protective hand around his sister's middle. "It's time for bed, dear sister. And don't you fight me. You've overstepped yourself." Christian gave his sister a commanding look as he spoke to her, Grace turning up her nose at him defiance. However, she gave in to her brother, Christian being the only one to persuade her to go to bed.

"Fine," Grace spoke sharply. "I'll see you in the morning." Christian gave out a deep sigh at his sister's agreeance, relieved that she did not fight against him and cause a scene. Grace did not say goodnight to her relatives, too tipsy to realize the fault in her actions. She instead chose to exit out the doors of the hall and made her way towards her rooms. However, she did notice the two shadows following her secretly through the corridor.

Grace was oblivious to the danger that followed her in the darkness of the palace, her footsteps echoing off the hall as she continued towards her rooms. She then heard the sound of other steps behind her but paid no attention to them. She thought it was a few more courtiers returning to their rooms.

Suddenly, a hand covered Grace's mouth and she let out a muffled scream as she was dragged to the ground. Her ears rang as her head hit the floor unceremoniously, her attacker not caring if her caused her permanent damage. She could feel the blood trickling down her forehead, but she could not move her hands as they were held together in a tight grasp. Her vision was blurry, and she could not make out the face of the person holding her hands above her head nor the person who leered over her body. All she could feel were hands on her body and she cringed at the feeling.

When her vision returned and the numbness sin her body faded, the persons became clear to her. They were men, the one holding her hands frowning and looking ashamed of himself as he held her in place. The other man gave her a lustful look as he noticed her eyes flickering open and coming into view. "Nice of you to join us, lovely. This will make this so much more enjoyable."

Grace yelled out in fear, twisting her body every so way to escape. "Help! Someone help me!" She was silenced by the slap of a hand across her face and she whimpered in pain. Her lip was split, and she knew her face was sure to bruise. The man over top of her wrapped his hand around her throat and Grace gasped for air. She could not claw at his hand as they were already bound in the other man's hands over her head. A knife flickered in front of her eyes and they widened.

"You scream and I'll ruin that pretty face of yours," the man sneered at her. He grinned evilly, his knife lowering to the front of Grace's dress and he began to cut the fine material of her dress open. Grace lifted her eyes to the ceiling, focusing on anything but the man who was going to hurt her. Silent tears fell down her face and bit her lip as the man finished cutting through the front of her dress. She felt him pawing at her breasts and she tried to move her body away from him but was rewarded with another slap. She whimpered again, disgusted with the man over top of her.

Once he had his fill of Grace's upper half, the man's hands moved lower. Grace looked to the stranger holding her hands, giving him a pleading look as she looked into his eyes. The man could only look away. He could not help her even if he wanted to. She could see the internal struggle within the man, his morals fighting against his wrongs. He was either being forced to doing this or being paid. She pitied him. But the other man, she was scared for her life. She could feel his hands lifting up her skirts, but she knew if she struggled that he would hit her once more or worse, use his knife against her.

Grace's fear ruled out in the end and she began kicking her legs out against her attacker. The man became frustrated, leaning his weight into her as his hands found their goal. Grace cried out in repulsion as he touched her, not caring to be gentle as he pushed his fingers inside her. Grace tried to fight against him, but he pulled his knife to her throat again.

"I swear I'll kill you now if you keep going. But, your fight is quite arousing. It makes me want to take you now like the whore you are." He pulled his fingers from her core and Grace was relieved until she saw him start to work down his breeches. Now she was going to resist him as much as possible. She thrashed about on the ground, screaming at the top of her lungs. She prayed to God that someone could hear her cries, begged that someone would come to her rescue before it was too late.

"No one can hear you," the man spoke, frustrated at Grace's behavior. "No one will care what I do to you." He leaned forward and Grace closed her eyes as she prepared herself for what was to open. Suddenly, his weight was gone from her body and she heard a struggle occurring before her. She opened her eyes, seeing her attacker on the ground, collapsed in a bloody heap, and a stranger baring a sword in front of her. He looked battered, but far more better than her perpetrator.

"Release her, now," the unknown man gritted through teeth. The man holding Grace's hands dropped them and rose to his feet as the man placed the sword against his throat. He motioned to the other man and he moved towards his accomplice who was unconscious on the floor. Grace clambered across the floor, leaning her back against the wall as she brought her legs up to her chest. She began to cry hysterically, shaking from shock as she tried to process what had happened.

The man with the sword kneeled down to her level and Grace scrambled backwards away from him in fear. His sword was still pointed at the other man's throat, but his free hand he lifted in front of her to show that he meant her no harm. "I will not hurt you," he spoke to her in a gentle tone. "My name is Henry Percy, Lady Neville." Grace could not even look at him as he talked to her and he became worried for her being. "Guards! Guards!" he yelled, pushing the other man forward as he traveled down the corridor closer to the hall. He kept an eye on Grace as much as he could as he called for help. She disappeared from his view just for a moment as he shoved the conscious attacker into the guards who appeared. "Take him to the dungeons. He just attacked a lady of the court. And find more guards. There is another down the corridor who I took care of." The two men nodded at Percy, dragging the man away and searching for other guards. "And find lord Warwick immediately. Tell him where I am," he added.

Percy returned to Grace who had barely moved from her spot on the ground and Percy kneeled before her once more at a distance suitable for one who had just experienced something so horrendous. "My lady, is there anything I can do?" Grace lifted her face up, Percy noting the redness around her eyes as well as her split lip and bruised face. He frowned at her appearance, taking his doublet off and placing it over her body protectively. "No one should treat you as those men just have." Grace noted the gentleness in his blue eyes, but she cringed because of his touch. She wanted no man near her after what had just happened to her.

A commotion could be heard down the hall and Percy turned his head to see Warwick running frantically towards them, More and his sons right on his heels. Percy held up a cautious hand. "I would be careful, my lord. Do not hover about her. It will only frighten her in her condition." Warwick took his words into consideration, seeing his daughter in a pathetic heap on the ground before him.

Grace couldn't even look at her father, the shame of the occurrence rushing over her which only served to make her cry harder. "Darling," Warwick said in a low voice. Grace ignored him, still not meeting his gaze. "Thank you, Lord Percy. I can handle this without you." Percy nodded at him before going to leave, looking back at Grace with a wary glance.

"I will tell no one, my lord," Percy spoke to Warwick. "No one will be told of what I encountered tonight. I would spare the lady's honor and reputation." Warwick nodded at him in thanks, his attention turning back to his daughter.

"Grace…" Warwick muttered. Grace cringed at the sound of his voice. "Grace, what happened?" he questioned. Grace still said nothing, her face buried in her legs. Arthur stepped forward, careful not to scare his sister as he stood in front of her and lowered himself to her level.

"Sister, look at me." Grace finally looked up, her green eyes staring into her brother's. "Will you tell us what happened?" Grace shook her head, her eyes blurry from tears. Arthur accepted his sister's answers, not trying to push her. However, he could gather his own conclusion from her appearance, and he was overcome with fury at whoever had done this to his sister. "Will you let me carry you to your rooms?" Grace only nodded her head, not having the voice to speak. Arthur reached forward as he tried to gather his sister in his arms. She flinched at first, Arthur noticing immediately. He moved his hands away, waiting for her to gather herself before he went to lift her again. This time, Grace let him pick her up and he carried her bridal style to her rooms, placing her gently on the bed. She immediately curled up into a ball, protecting herself from the men around her. She wanted nothing to do with them and they excused themselves from her room as her ladies tried to comfort her. However, they were too young to understand what had just happened.

"We must tell the king what has happened. We must seek justice for the wrongs done against her," More voiced, his hands bunched up into fists at his side as he thought of the men who did this to his beloved niece.

"You forget I am her father and as a father, it is I who should seek justice for her by any means possible." Warwick slammed his hand against the wall in anger, knowing his knuckles were probably bloody from the impact.

"And you will Richard, but we are not immoral men. We will seek justice lawfully," More replied. His words were not to easily accepted by Warwick and his sons who would go so far as to seek out blood for Grace. However, they would let the king intervene and they were positive that he would kill for her. He would do anything for her.

"So, it's done then?" One man questioned across the room from his counterpart.

"As you ordered, my lord," the other said mockingly. Both men smirked at each other, the true perpetrators of the plan against Grace.

"Finally, the Nevilles and Boleyns shall fall, and we shall be unstoppable."

21 February 1536

Anne was ushered to Grace's chambers the next morning, not knowing why exactly she had been summoned to Grace's chambers so discreetly. She had been surprised when the Duke of Warwick had asked for audience with her that morning, followed by a request that she see Grace. Of course, Anne had accepted the request, heading to Grace's rooms along with the duke. However, she was not expecting what she encountered.

Anne spotted Grace in the middle of her bed, still curled up in a ball as she tried to shut out the outside world. "Get out!" she screamed at her Christian. "I don't want you in here. Get out!" Grace had her hands flattened against her ears, tears streaming down her face. Christian tried to near his sister, but she scurried backwards against the headboard and pulled the covers to her chest. "Go away!" she screamed. Christian turned to the queen, giving her a tired look.

Anne put her hands to her mouth, her eyes darting from Grace to Christian as she tried to wrap her head around the situation. "What happened?" she questioned Warwick. Warwick rubbed his fast in an exhausted manner.

"We can only guess, majesty. She won't tell anyone. We were hoping that you…"Warwick muttered. Anne nodded at his words as she stepped further into the room. "She won't see the Lady Mary. We tried. And we can't ask my daughters-in-laws to come to court, not since Richard's wife passed. They are helping him take of care of his sons."

"I will try my best, my lord. But it would be best if you all left the room. I can see that she does not want any men around her right now. I fear the worst," Anne spoke. Warwick signaled to Christian to leave with him, both men giving Grace wary looks as they left.

Anne stood at the edge of the bed as she studied Grace. An ugly, purple bruise marred the right side of her face in the shape of a handprint. It was apparent that she had been hit and looking closer, her throat also had also been victim to someone's hand. Her hair also looked disheveled and Anne noticed the dry blood that caked her brown locks. Grace sniffled under her gaze; the covers pulled up protectively over her body. Anne moved slowly towards her, laying a gentle hand on Grace's knee. "Grace, what happened?"

Grace tensed at Anne's questioning, rubbing her hands against her eyes as she squirmed under Anne's gaze. She wouldn't speak, biting her lips nervously. "Grace?" Anne asked again and Grace turned her face away so Anne would not see the onslaught of tears that appeared falling down Grace's face once more. Anne rubbed her arm soothingly, trying to gently pry the information from her. "Let me help you, Grace."

Grace turned back to Anne, showing her the mess that she had become overnight. Anne frowned at the dark circles under Grace's eyes as well as the redness that appeared around them from crying. The bruise only served to make her face look worse and Anne carefully drew her fingers across it. Grace flinched at the touch but did not pull away from Anne. "We shall have to obtain a poultice for the bruise," Anne murmured. "Your lovely face doesn't deserve such a mark."

"I…Did I deserve what happened to me?" Grace's voice was barely above a whisper, her voice dry and hoarse from crying all night. She searched Anne's eyes for an answer, thinking that her attack was meant for a purpose.

"No, don't say that. Of course, you did not deserve this." Anne gathered Grace into her arms, Grace beginning to cry once more as Anne stroked her hair to calm her.

"They came out of nowhere. Those…those men. One of them, he held my hands. I could tell he was nervous. He didn't want to be there. But the other man…he…he took pleasure in hurting me. He wanted to hurt me." Grace's face turned white as she thought of him, cringing internally at the memory of his nasty sneer. "I…"She stuttered for a moment as she tried to collect herself. "I can still feel his touch on my body, the way his fingers hurt me. He…he tried to..." Grace began to cry hysterically, Anne acting as a protective mother would and wrapping her arms around Grace.

"Shhh, shhh. There's no need to continue," Anne spoke to her, not wanting to cause Grace anymore pain at reliving the memory. "We need to tell the king," Anne continued.

Grace's head shot up immediately at the mention of Henry and she shook her head wildly. "No, no, no! You can't tell him."

"Grace, his majesty is the only one who can achieve full justice for what those monsters did to you," Anne explained to Grace. "He has the power as king to do what he wants to punish them unlike your father and brothers who would stand in judgement against the law if they acted now. They need his permission at the least. They will stand trial if we tell the king. They could be put to death for their actions against you, which is what they deserve." Grace shook her head uncontrollably.

"No, no, no. You can't tell him. What will he think of me?" Grace whispered. She began to hyperventilate, breathing heavily and feeling as if she was going to belch. She felt lightheaded, seeing stars behind her eyes.

"Shhh…Shhh," Anne said again, laying Grace down on the bed. "You need to calm down, Grace. I'm here. You need to sleep."

"I…I can't sleep. All I see…" Grace faltered for a moment, not being able to finish her sentence. "I can't close my eyes," Grace cried.

Anne pushed the hair back from Grace's forehead, trying to comfort the crying girl. "I'll stay with you while you sleep. I promise." Grace looked into Anne's eyes, seeking the confirmation she needed. She nodded her head, closing her eyes without fearing that no one would be there to wake her if she should see her tormentors in her dreams.

22 February 1536

Henry was absolutely overcome with an emotion he had rarely felt in his lifetime. He had felt this way when his mother died, every time Catherine had lost a child, when he had almost lost Anne to the sweating sickness, when Anne had lost his sons, when Grace had almost died, and now. Now again he was horrified with a sense of helplessness, as if he could do nothing in this situation. He was king and he felt like he could do nothing. He had no power, no control over what had occurred, and it was driving him mad.

As Henry briskly walked through the corridor in his palace, he only had one thing on his mind: vengeance. He would kill the man who injured Grace so. He would kill him with his bare hands if he could. From what Anne had divulged to him, Grace's honor had been at risk. Some unknown man had tried to rape Grace.

Henry burst into Grace's chambers, ignoring the cautious remarks by More, Warwick, and the Neville sons as he entered Grace's bedchamber. Anne had been stroking Grace's hair when Henry startled her. She jumped in her place on the bed, not expecting Henry's sudden arrival. Grace remained sleeping, not having been awakened by Henry's sudden intrusion.

Henry studied the peaceful face of Grace as she slept. She was completely unaware of his presence. He saw the purple mark on her face and the protective angle of her body as she slept. His blood boiled at the sight, his hands clenching at his side. Anne put her finger to his mouth, begging him not to speak. Grace had had nothing, but a fitful sleep and she finally had drifted off into a relaxing slumber with the aid of Anne. Henry approached her, drawing his finger gently across the rise of her cheekbone. He grimaced when she whimpered in her sleep, his eyes darkening at the sound.

"It would be best not to wake her, majesty," Anne whispered to Henry. She rose from her position next to Grace, going to depart the room. He turned to Henry who remained rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving Grace. "Majesty?" Anne continued.

"I wish to remain here. I won't wake her. I want to watch over her while she sleeps," Henry spoke. Anne said nothing, leaving the room in silence. Henry stayed standing next to the bed as he gazed at Grace. In that moment he swore to himself that he would not just torture the men that did this to her, but he would also punish the people who devised such an abominable plan against his Grace. Even if it would tear about his court, he would do it for her.

A/N: Comments?