Thanks for the reviews, everyone! It makes my day every time I see a new one.

About Thomas More's morals: That was stated in Henry's point-of-view; it was his thoughts about Thomas, who was always a friend to him until recently. In history, yes, his morals weren't really that great and quite hypocritical, especially from a modern lens, but Henry has always thought Thomas More a good man. It makes what happens to More by Henry VIII's orders even more ironic.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Tudors TV show or any of the characters. I guess that history technically owns them, but you know how it goes.

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August 1529

"I do not understand," his wife's voice was furious and hurt. "My brother loves Catherine; he always has!"

Charles knew that he had to tread carefully; his wife and best friend were so similar that sometimes, he wondered if their souls were linked beyond that of full siblings.

"I think that he did at first," he consoled as he drank from the goblet, watching his wife's pacing body, her features scrunched tightly; her eyes that were so like his friend's were welling with thick tears. "But things can change. We are some of the only ones who truly remember when Henry took the throne after your father's death."

"Yes, and he chose Catherine!" Mary snapped, "I remember well. All of the advisors did not want him to marry her but Henry ignored them; he saved her and made her Queen. So what if she did not bear him sons?"

"You do not mean that, Mary." Charles kept his voice soft, spaced out between his words. "You are angry and I understand, but everyone knows that His Majesty must have a healthy son to succeed him. I know that it is hard to hear, but Catherine failed in that regard; she only gave him Pri- …Mary," he would need to ask his friend what his niece's title was; everything was currently so convoluted. "The Cousins' War was recent; we cannot return to its bloodshed with false claimants to the throne clashing for Henry's seat of ultimate power."

"She is my friend!"

"I know she is," he stood to his feet and looking at his wife's shaking form, he felt sympathy. "Catherine was always kind to me in my presence; she was a worthy Queen. But your brother has tired of her; he needs an heir and Catherine stepped down to enter a nunnery."

"And now he loves this Anne Boleyn. He is going to marry her," she spat, shaking her head angrily. "How could he?"

"We married for love, did we not?" Charles asked evenly, unsurprised when his wife froze. "I married you in secret after Louis XII's passing in France all without Henry's blessing, and it was because I loved you. You were considered a jewel of Christendom, one of the most beautiful Princesses. Your destiny was not to be wasted on a mere low-born Duke such as me; you were to bring an alliance to England."

"I knew that my brother… he would not keep his promise."

"Me too," he said honestly. "I know him better than anyone and because of that, I knew that losing my head was a very, very real possibility for marrying you."

Mary's face softened and she approached him, wrapping her fingers around the back of his neck. "But you… you still married me."

"Aye, I did. I braved the storm of Henry's unholy wrath but we survived because he loves us; if it were anyone else, I would be dead and you would be disgraced."

"I am aware."

"We were given our own wedding in England in front of the entire Court; we only had to repay the dowry to France back to your brother in fines, and of course, I had to beat him in the arm wrestling match."

"I still cannot believe that happened."

"It was the most nerve-wracking experience of my life," he admitted. "I was much more confident and calm marrying you than I was when he and I battled. But everything turned out well; we have beautiful children and Henry still loves us more than almost anybody."

"And now he loves Anne Boleyn," she whispered. "Does he… love her more than us?"

"Yes, he does," he refused to be anything but blunt because it was important. "Look what happened to Wolsey; the Boleyns and Norfolk secured the outcome."

"I like Wolsey," his wife smiled sadly. "He is a good man who always knew his place and duty; he soothed Henry's initial fury at our marriage."

"He was stealing from His Majesty."

"What?" Mary's lips parted and authentic shock shone in her eyes. "He would never!"

"But he did," he felt his own sadness compress. "I looked over the records myself to make sure that Norfolk and Wiltshire were not trying to trick Henry in their vendetta against Wolsey. He stole from your brother's exchequer for the creation of his great college at Oxford."

"And without Wolsey, Anne Boleyn has gained power; she is now a Marquess."

"Indeed, but it is because Henry loves her." Charles nodded and remembered the past, "It is the same reason why I am a Duke and still living; the King's love is strong for those who hold it, but his wrath is a tempest for those who provoke him."

Mary looked up at him; the tears were gone but she still looked saddened. "How can I support my brother's marriage to Anne Boleyn? Catherine was a good wife to him and she is my friend."

"Yes, but she was a Queen; she knew the potential risks."

"I am aware. I was Queen of France, remember?"

"I will always remember."

Mary sighed, "I will try to support my brother, but I have not a clue if I will support Anne Boleyn. I know her sister, but not her; there will be differences."

"I hated her at first."

"What changed?"

"I saw the authentic affection between her and Henry; it surpasses everything that I ever saw between him and Catherine. Henry is King and we are but his servants, no matter how much he loves us; this is his decision, not ours. We only incur his wrath by debating it."

Mary smiled sadly, "I will do my best, but no promises will escape these lips yet."

"Then we should see what else your lips can do." Charles smirked roguishly, "I missed you at Court."

"You sly-tongued- " she was cut off when Charles kissed her and led her to the bed.

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August 1529

"My beautiful Mary," he smiled down at his daughter, waving Cromwell out. "Your safe return pleases me."

"Father," she intoned stiffly with a bow and his smile faded. "I yearn to say the same, but it would be a lie."

Henry ignored her, instead choosing to stare at her for a moment, unwilling to admit aloud that he had no idea how to begin the conversation, but he forced himself to speak. "I am aware that the circumstances surrounding… your mother's change in status- "

Mary's eyes burned with pain. "My words cannot clearly express the sorrow that you have inflicted upon me. 'Tis most unjust and entirely cruel."

"If you are not going to mind your tongue than at least mind your tone, my daughter. I am not just your father but your King."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," she hastily fell to her knees. "I meant no disrespect. My allegiance forever lies to you and your throne."

"I cannot help but wonder if you did mean it." Henry murmured thoughtfully, trying to keep his temper from coloring his words. "Everything that you knew was a lie," he frowned when she didn't speak. "Speak with words of honesty, Mary. I give you leave."

"I do not understand, father!" Mary finally looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks, but she remained kneeling. "Mother is your Queen, your lawful wife! Now you choose this whore over- "

"You go too far, Mary," he warned lowly. "I love Anne and will not allow you to slander her good name."

"There is nothing good about her!" His daughter spat and Henry felt aghast. What had happened to his beloved pearl? "She stole you away; she is nothing but a power-craving whore who yearns to spread the foul, depraved teachings of Lutheranism!"

"That is enough!" Henry's eyes turned to slits and he loomed over Mary. "I gave you leave to be honest but all you speak are lies. You have become foolish, just as your deceitful mother."

"No! Mother is your lawful wife and has always been truthful!"

"Your mother has willingly entered a nunnery by her own choice. I did not force her; she is no longer my wife. She never was! You know not of the lies with which she has filled your head, my daughter. I fear that it is too late."

Mary's eyes widened and her cheeks turned red with anger; it reminded Henry of himself. "Father, turn back from this accursed mistake. Plead for forgiveness- "

"A King never pleads!" Henry shook his head in disgust, "It is time that you learned the truth. I will marry Anne and she will bear my son; she is already pregnant with him. It is a sign! God has rewarded me for rebelling against the heretical Pope!"

"Father!" Mary gasped in horror; tears spilled down her cheeks, falling to the floor with the force of cannons. "She has corrupted you with her dark magics; turn away from her before you doom England!"

"I would have doomed England if I had stayed with your mother!" Henry snapped; his fury was explosive and he did not shy away from it this time. He embraced it with remarkable ease and it swept through him. "Your mother failed because of her lies! For twenty years, I have waited for my son, my rightful heir but have only received dead children!"

Mary sobbed and placed a hand to her quivering lips. "You- you have me, father. I- I am your heir."

"I love you, Mary, but your facile thoughts are unacceptable. You will not be Queen of England; this is not Castille where your grandmother ruled. This is England! She would never accept an absolute Queen; it would be the return of Matilda and that cannot occur. The Cousins' War is still fresh; its hold still grips many a heart. A strong son must be born to prohibit another civil war from erupting. Anne is already pregnant and she will give me my son; he will be a gift from God."

"No," his daughter frantically shook her head. "Mother taught me that- "

"Your mother taught you what to think, not how to!" Henry snapped, "Answer me this, Mary: What do you think would happen if you became Queen?"

"I would be the greatest Queen to live. I would secure an alliance with my cousins through marriage and unite our countries."

Henry stared down at her hard, wondering how he had allowed his daughter's thoughts to tread so dangerously a path. "England would then be subjugated if you did that, daughter. Its children would never accept it and they would fight back; they would depose of you and place someone else on my throne, someone not of my blood! Your cousins would rule through you and the damned Habsburg line would seek all of Christendom."

"No, father! I would keep that from happening."

"How?"

"I… I would marry someone else, then." Mary looked desperate and Henry finally felt his fury begin to return to its resting place. "I would marry an Englishman!"

"And that, too, would annihilate the House of Tudor, my father's dynasty that must be kept alive past me." Henry smiled grimly, "There would only be one way to keep that from happening, Mary, if you were to be Queen."

"What- what do you mean, father?"

"You would be wed to your half-brother."

Mary's eyes bulged in horror, "Hal? No, father! That is blasphemous!"

Henry pounced, "The Pope did not seem to hold that opinion, my daughter. During my attempts to attain an annulment for my cursed marriage to your mother, the Pope hinted that he would be willing to issue a dispensation for you to marry Fitzroy if I ceased from my efforts." When he saw that his daughter was horror-stricken and speechless, Henry continued. "The Pope was correct; by marrying you to Fitzroy, it would unite the throne and keep the House of Tudor alive through my grandsons that you would bear my son."

His daughter swallowed and found words. "Then… if his Holiness believes that to be the best, I- I will marry Hal."

"But that is not best!" Henry closed his eyes in an effort to keep his temper from re-appearing fully. "I would never allow that. You will not be Queen of England and you will marry a worthy man of my choosing. I will have a true son to my name through Anne and bring about the golden age; we will prevail because of my decisions, Mary."

"Your decisions are breaking away from the Church, father! Don't you see that?" Mary bowed her head against the floor, "Save your soul from eternal damnation and return to the Church's teachings. This is not God's path! Has your conscience been blotted out by your whore's magics?"

"God and my conscience are perfectly agreed. If you speak words of slanderous lies about my Anne again, I will throw you into the Tower, Mary."

"How can you do this?" She cried out desperately, "Stop this, please! This is madness!"

"Your cousin, Carlos has done much worse than me." Henry murmured, watching as his daughter froze. "You have claimed to admire your cousins from Spain, but should you? Carlos has always had nefarious intentions for Rome and he has pounced with his fucking sack. He is already the Holy Roman Emperor, but he is now practically the Pope himself, is he not? Clement is only a figurehead but the true power belongs to Carlos, now. I know that it does; it is quite ingenious but wholly terrifying. He will eventually, if he has not already, imprison the Pope and wield his power just as Ferdinand did with Carlos' mother. It is already in his blood for he is Ferdinand's grandson and he will control all of Christendom to sate his lust for power."

"He would never!"

"You are too blind to see the truth right now," he gestured for her to rise and she slowly did; the tears were stained to her cheeks and her eyes were red. "Your emotions are in chaos but you will see that this is God's plan, Mary. I am to wed Anne and she will have my legitimate, rightful, mighty son. Nothing will stop it."

"If… if that… that is Your Majesty's chosen path."

Henry frowned, "It is God's chosen path, Mary. You have yet to open your eyes."

"My eyes see clearly and I fear of what your treachery will summon."

To keep himself from yelling at his daughter, he focused on the last thing that he wanted to do. "Mr. Cromwell! Bring him in!"

The door swung open and Cromwell appeared but before he could speak, the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys strode in with deceptively soft intent. When Henry had first met Chapuys, he had summoned all of the strength within himself to keep from sending him away. He didn't like him; he was well-acquainted with men of Spain and knew of the zealotry by which they lived. During their conversation, Chapuys had made desperate attempts sponsored by the Emperor that Henry should stop and turn away from Anne. While he had indulged in his familiar and beckoning fury with Chapuys the first time, bellowing at him that he knows nothing save admiration for his foul, deceitful master, he refused to do so again - at least with his daughter around.

Chapuys, upon seeing Mary, immediately fell to his knees in a reverent bow - it looked much more sincere than the one that he had given Henry earlier. "Princess Mary," his words were crisp and smooth, on the verge of awe. "I have heard much about you. I am Eustace Chapuys, the Ambassador for Spain. I am at your service. The Emperor expresses his deep love towards his beloved cousin, the Princess of England."

Mary looked toward Henry in shock and he nodded. "You are still a Princess of England, my daughter. Your full titles and rights still apply because my false-marriage with your mother was one of believed good faith; you are my daughter no matter what. You are a Tudor but as I said earlier, you will never sit on my throne." Henry caught the quick, barely noticeable frown by Chapuys but it was not imagined. "Chapuys arrived earlier this day in time to witness my wedding to Anne." Watching Chapuys closely, Henry was displeased by the sudden tightness in the Ambassador's body. "That was your reason for your arrival, was it not, Ambassador?"

"Of course, of course, King Henry." Chapuys relaxed and his features smoothed out; he seemed sincere but Henry felt the deception. "That was not my only reason. My Master has expressed great interest in establishing a marriage contract to tie Princess Mary to either his young son, Prince Felipe or nephew, Maximillian."

Henry noticed that his daughter looked delighted but he shook his head firmly. "I will not think of such things yet," he smiled falsely; he would never consider such a match. "My mind is preoccupied with more important matters."

Mary bristled but nodded, "Very well, father, but I would be content to speak of this again."

"As would my Master," the Ambassador cut in. "This is an important matter."

"It is the furthest thing from my mind right now," he snapped. "My marriage is soon, in a matter of days. It is all that matters. Nothing is more important to me. Nothing ever has been."

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August 1529

Rome. The home of the Pope himself. The teeming heart of the Papacy that was part of Italy in only spirit - but the spirit was that of God and it ran deep, descending into the souls of desperate men. The land and water were one and it was the will of God in His grand design, just how His designated Vicar determined how man will use the land and water. Lately, the concern was only with empty stomachs - women's and children's. Survival. There was nothing else, not since the Sack of Rome two years prior when pandemonium and death had swept through the great city by the hands of the Emperor.

It was nearing sundown and an unseen blanket of misery was gradually lowered over Rome; figures were muted with the shadows and the night was to be welcomed with sad, understanding eyes. And with the never-ending, ever-strident quality of life since the Sack, carnal activities would quickly begin with women who were desperate for coins to feed their children, who were willing to do whatever it took. They were activities that the human race should have abandoned at the first light of God's creation, but in the dark times since the Sack, people began to argue that the only humans alive back then were Adam and Eve - and Cain and Abel, of course. None of them recorded what they did with their bodies, and their thoughts weren't in God's book, so who cared if the women sold their bodies?

The streets were permanently stained with blood and human excrement, and death was an all-too-familiar commodity. Struck down by famine, disease, and men, bodies were piled along the streets - who cared? Disinterested observers frequently watched as the bodies were looted of anything valuable and in some desperate cases, consumed by starving men - who cared?

A large horse, its matted fur belying the shining jewels encrusted in the saddle, sped through the streets, heading around St. Peter's Basilica towards the Apostolic Palace. Atop the horse was a messenger and to the muted figures in the street who watched him speed by, he was recognized as merely one more attempt by Pope Clement VII to re-establish himself as the Bishop of Rome in the face of the Emperor's control over him, but one that, based on the distressed features of the messenger, had not been successful.

Time passed with no effect; the muted figures remained where they were hunched over, the effects of starvation beginning to overwhelm. Disinterested, cautious eyes rose as several more horses with messengers galloped through the streets, ignoring the shrieked curses from the few men who still possessed strength. Then each became eerily silent from the sudden fury as the messengers continued onward and it was clear to see why; these were different messengers, ones not under the Pope's authority. The horses were more majestic, stronger, larger, and the attire of each messenger was more elaborate and brighter; it signified a rich, powerful employer.

A commotion caused eyes to turn; it was a violent eruption. Several men were tumbling through the street, heaving fists into every available opening. Near them, several gold coins lied in the open street, the waning sunlight causing them to gleam wickedly. The cause was easy to discern; the coins had fallen off of the majestic horses as they sped through the streets.

But the sight generated a resurgence in all of the muted figures; they slowly climbed to their feet. Women held their children close as husbands entered the fray for the golden coins. The street became wild and the chaos grew; more bodies fell and blood sprayed the various remaining men. One man stood straighter than the others; he was younger and thus stronger. His body was tall yet incredibly slender, attesting to his hunger, his need for the golden coins. What was truly different were his eyes; they were filled with zealous determination. He was winning the gruesome fight and after he pummeled the last man to the ground, smashing his foot into the man's skull for good measure, he reverently knelt down to pick up the golden coins.

Women shrieked in distress and children wailed but they were paid no mind by any of the remaining muted figures or the triumphant man. The sound of their hysterical cries drew attention, and another horse appeared in the street but a man of authority sat atop it with familiar ease; he held the authority and it was immediately recognized. Just the sight of this man caused everyone to shrink back to their perch, but they remained standing. The triumphant man held the coins to his chest and shuffled back, head bowed like that of a beaten child's.

"Give me the coins," the man on the horse demanded in a Spanish accent, his words gentle, yet there were subtle hints of indescribable agony should his demand go unheeded. "They cause nothing but death for your covetous kind."

No further words were needed for the once-triumphant man dropped the coins, recognizing that there was already too much agony in Rome. Who needed or would welcome more? So he gave up the few coins for which he had killed. Perhaps God would show favor to him in the future for his obedience.

The official hopped off of the horse and plucked the coins; he then ascended his horse with such ease that it stole breath. Not another word was spoken as he sped off down the street, heading towards the Apostolic Palace like the other horseman before him. A furious discontent echoed through the muted figures but no one said anything; they were not fools. But with everything quiet once again, a sound was heard. It was indistinct, yet they listened as it drew nearer. No one could determine what it was and finally, the once-triumphant man seemed to be tired of guessing.

He slowly peered past the corner of the street and then sprang back as if burned; his eyes were wide and his face was pale. "We are dead," he whispered and his entire thin body was trembling. "Rome is dead, His Holiness is dead. All is dead."

"What is it?" One of the older men - he had not entered the fray for the golden coins, recognizing that he would have never won - demanded desperately. "What has happened?"

"He's come back," the once-triumphant man hissed and hysteria bulged in his gaunt flesh. "The Emperor has returned to Rome; it's his banner! Carlos V! He's come back!"

All at once, voices erupted in curses and distressed, disbelieving voices. But something quieted them to murmurs; the banner became visible as it edged past the corner of the street and the terrified voices were silenced. Rumbles of terrified awe suddenly echoed and the various figures fell to their knees to bow, watching with craning eyes as, indeed, the Emperor himself, Carlos V walked past them; he seemed to glide across the ground as a specter of God's holy might while an entourage of powerful, imposing guards surrounded him on every side.

The valiant robes and armor covered the Emperor's body and every figure who glimpsed the magnificent sight instantly knew that he was above them; he was a holy man, a man touched by God, and the most powerful man in the world. Little was seen of his face - where rumor claimed an enormous, off-putting chin resided - from their vantage point, but permeated with incredible wisdom and strength, Carlos V's extraordinary bearing was felt by all; it was a tangible smoke-like sensation that soaked through the territory of Rome in relentless waves.

The Emperor's footsteps were soft but deliberate - a man who knew of power and knew that he possessed it. But because it was so quiet, the sound of his footsteps was jarring, like that of a cannon exploding. With his entourage of guards, he walked slowly through the kneeling crowd of muted figures, past St. Peter's Basilica, and disappeared into the waning sunlight towards the Apostolic Palace.

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August 1529

The Emperor entered Pope Clement VII's grand apartment and felt the change in the air; it was subtle but all-too-familiar to one such as himself. It was the recognition of a higher authority, of greater power. The imperial eagle had returned to Rome to seize an opportunity with its Herculean-strengthened talons.

Near Clement, the body of a messenger attempting to warn His Holiness of the Emperor's approach laid; the hazed-over eyes were filled with death and terror. The Emperor glanced at it with dispassionate eyes and he flicked his fingers. Two of his men immediately moved towards the body and picked it up; they dragged it out of the Pope's apartment and returned just as quickly.

Finally, he moved his eyes to Clement and what he saw did not surprise him. Garbed in red robes, drawing an air of noble magnificence that seemed shallow to the Emperor's eyes, Clement sat before him stubbornly; his eyes were on fire and his long beard added rigidity to his stone-like features.

The Emperor fell to his knees and bowed his head before returning his eyes to Clement's. "Your Holiness, it relieves me to see you safe."

A frown graced the Pope's lips, "And why would I choose to believe your self-serving words, my son?" Clement's eyes roamed the various men in the room who were also kneeling behind the Emperor. "Your men struck down one of my most faithful messengers; he was a good, righteous boy. The continued presence of your gaolers has not been of benefit."

Rising to his feet, the Emperor allowed a small smile to dance across his lips. "You have misinterpreted the situation, Your Holiness. These men are but your protectors. They always have been."

Clement's eyes suddenly flashed, "Bold deceiver! Your words may flow smoothly from your tongue but they are lies. I am not a child, my son. I am the Vicar of Christ, the Bishop of Rome, God's living presence on Earth. Every breath you take in Rome insults the Creator. You are not a protector but a conqueror. My League of Cognac had been designed to reduce your power, but I fear I have only increased it."

"I am a protector, Your Holiness. I have saved you from the path that you would have wandered without my steady, guiding hands- "

"Your blood-stained hands."

"- and I will secure my immortal glory. There is nothing that I would not do for the greater acclaim of my House of Habsburg, of my countries and my Empire. It has been my greatest ambition for my House to live in all of Christendom. God has recognized it and has rewarded me for my noble aspirations."

"I disavow you, Carlos Habsburg! Your deceit is from the mouth of Lucifer himself!"

"Your emotional upheaval has understandably- "

"I know exactly what you are doing." Clement interrupted angrily and the Emperor frowned. "Did your grandfather not do the same years ago? Since your Sack, after you released me to return to Rome, you sent many gaolers to accompany me. These gaolers have not strayed and have greatly limited my divine power. I am weak and it was your wicked intention, was it not? Now you intend to lock me away and wield my rightful power as your own."

The Emperor smiled coyly, "You are God's presence on Earth, but you have become blinded by your mortal endeavors. God is with me; his blessings have been most fruitful. God is displeased with you, Your Holiness. How else would we be in this position?"

"Blasphemer! I am the Vicar of Christ, the heir to St. Peter." Clement raised his finger and pointed at him; his teeth seemed to elongate into an animal's fangs. "Drop to your knees once more and beg for mercy. Your vile slights will not stand."

"Now you truly misunderstand, Your Holiness. Your eyes are old and you see what is not there."

"What do you want? Why have you returned to Rome to humiliate me again?"

"You know of King Henry's upcoming marriage to the Lutheran, Anne Boleyn."

"Because your aunt, in an astonishing turn of events, entered a nunnery days after her vehement testimony at Blackbriar, the marriage will be legal. There is not enough evidence to convince me that Anne Boleyn is a heretic."

"It is not a legal marriage, Your Holiness. My aunt is King Henry's true wife and Queen. Everything that has happened to her because of the Boleyn whore is a direct insult to her, and more importantly, me."

"Your aunt entered the nunnery and it has caused the wide-spread belief that she lied; she was no virgin when King Henry entered her bed."

"And why do you think that my beloved aunt chose to step down?"

"The guilt of lying before God overwhelmed her; all her words previously spoken were lies. Your aunt shamed your entire house."

"The Boleyn whore did that through King Henry," the Emperor smoothly corrected. "My aunt is honest and she was forced into the nunnery."

"Speak plainly, Carlos. My patience is low."

"Your patience will remain ever-lasting, Your Holiness. Do not forget with whom God's favor lies."

Clement's magnificent red robes wavered as he struggled to control his temper. "Continue, my son."

"King Henry has always been a deeply pious man. I have always admired him for his obedience to God; he is a Defender of the Faith. Anne Boleyn is a known Lutheran; my spies have confirmed it. With her dark witchcraft, she has corrupted the benevolent Henry Tudor." The Emperor waved his hand and one of his loyal men immediately produced his aunt's letter; it was given to Clement's outstretched, wizened hand. "King Henry stated that he would declare you, Your Holiness, a heretic."

"Hmm…" Clement's eyes roamed the letter; he was silent for several minutes. "This… this stems from the influence of Anne Boleyn."

"Indeed," the Emperor's lips turned upward. "King Henry is notorious through Christendom for his piety. Such a drastic change could only result from- "

"A whore." Clement finished and his eyes were furious. "She is a follower of Lucifer's son, Luther. Anne Boleyn will be punished by God for her transgressions; she is a heretic."

"Start her punishment early, Your Holiness," the Emperor commanded. "Do not presume to deny me. You know happened to your League of Cognac and Swiss Guard."

Clement's eyes closed briefly with a deep sigh before they reopened. "What is it that you will order me to do?"

"You will issue a Papal Bull decreeing that King Henry cannot marry Anne Boleyn under any circumstances. If he does, he will be excommunicated and the marriage would never be seen legal by both God and man. Any children from their union would be perennial bastards, never to inherit their father's grand majesty. You will order him to return to my aunt."

"It is not a legal marriage, but if I intervene with a Papal Bull, I fear that the Boleyn whore will turn King Henry away from the Papacy and he will break away from Rome. Her dastardly hold on him is clearly strong."

"King Henry has become increasingly bold, but he- "

"Not as bold as you, Carlos." Clement hissed before he seemed to collect himself. "Carry on."

"- would never break away from Rome."

"We will see, my son. What is it that you fear?"

"I fear that your inability to act as God's presence on Earth has doomed Christendom to heresy. 'Tis why God has chosen me to be his steed, instead. I will fix what you have been unable to. Even if King Henry breaks away from Rome, we will rescue him from the dark clutches of the Boleyn whore and he will rightly return England to Rome."

"And if I refuse to submit?"

"I would be surprised. You would willingly allow England to fall into further heresy, allow one of God's greatest Kings to be further corrupted by the Boleyn whore? If that were the case, it does not matter. My men are prepared to do what they must to convince you."

Clement's eyes widened, "You would dare lay a hand against the Vicar of Christ?"

"I would, Your Holiness. God has chosen me to replace you. I am the Holy Roman Emperor; it is an inheritance of power that my predecessors neglected to stretch."

"Christendom will never stand for this; you are your grandfather reborn! Ferdinand would be proud of his treacherous grandson."

"Those who stand against me will fall; they have yet to realize that God is on my side. As for you, in my great benevolence, if you do as I command, I might return some of your once-held power." The Emperor drew himself to his full height; he towered over Clement. "Commit to a decision, Your Holiness."

"... I will issue the Papal Bull repudiating King Henry's marriage to the Boleyn whore."

The Emperor smiled, "Good."

XxXxXxXxXxX

September 1529

The royal marriage of King Henry to the new Marquess Anne Boleyn was spectacular. When news of the former Queen Catherine's decision to enter a nunnery reached the ears of the Children of England, the reaction was of deep outrage. It was clear to see what had happened; she had lied at Blackbriar. She was no virgin and King Henry had been correct! Betrayal had run rampant through the hearts of many of the people, but that reaction had been anticipated.

The King's newest Chancellor, Thomas Cromwell, who replaced Thomas More - whom many whisper angered the King by speaking out about his new marriage - planned everything. King Henry and Marquess Anne Boleyn's matrimony was meticulously manipulated for maximum impact on not only England but all of Christendom. It was a signal of a fresh start, of a new change in status and power. Not since King Edward IV's stunning decision to marry much below his station to Queen Elizabeth Woodville - one of the many traits that his benevolent, handsome grandson inherited - was a marriage met with so much controversy through England.

Yet Thomas Cromwell had anticipated that, as well; he had convinced King Henry to fan the flames of controversy by issuing no statements to the public. Instead, Cromwell had advised King Henry to work solely on the visual - as his father had done before him. He declared that it was more effective than anything else because words were shallow; they could just as easily be falsehoods as truth, but visual was almost impossible to falsify. King Henry realized that his newest Chancellor was correct; people would draw their judgments and conclusions from what they see infinitely more than any words or statements that they hear.

The public was invited to the marriage ceremony and coronation for their newest Queen, a stunning change that many had not predicted. Almost everyone, including the Court, had believed that King Henry's marriage would be a private affair - or perhaps a secret event for several courtiers whispered that Marquess Anne Boleyn was already pregnant with the King's child. The ceremony was scheduled to last all day and deep into the night; the celebrations were planned for an entire week. Pageants and recitals were slated while the harpers would harp, the minstrels would sing, and the bells would ring. The festive spirit of the public was fanned by the appearance of a fountain that flowed with an endless supply of red wine; its twin fountain flowed with an endless supply of white wine - just as the Tudor rose! The cooks, too, were instructed to indulge in their fervent imaginations in promoting their finest delicacies. For those who were old enough to remember, it was reminiscent of Prince Arthur's wedding to Princess Catherine decades ago yet it surpassed in every way.

Since the former Queen Catherine's abdication in light of the weight of her lies, the interior of Westminster Abbey had been redesigned and the hard work by all of the men was recognized; it was magnificent. The lady chapel that King Henry's father had commissioned was more brilliant than ever before; it was decked in royal colors and the noble Tudor Rose was everywhere. The great warrior King Henry V's chantry chapel glowed with grand, ancient, radiant splendor. Many whispered that the great conqueror of France blessed the new marriage, then; it helped sway the public's mind knowing that their once-glorious King gave consent to King Henry's marriage to Marquess Anne Boleyn. A raised walkway drew the attention of the awed crowd; it was where their majestic King with St. Edward's Crown resting on his head stood in white satin. Next to him was the Marquess Anne Boleyn and all of the rumors about her appearance were proven false; she looked beautiful, regal, and clearly did not possess a sixth finger on either of her dainty hands. Although, only their benevolent and handsome King Henry would ever know if she possessed any moles on her body.

The Ambassadors for both France and Spain sat at the front next to the Duke of Suffolk and his wife the French Queen. Next to them sat Princess Mary and she and her aunt continuously spoke with one another in low tones. On the other side sat the King's Chancellor Thomas Cromwell, the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk, the Earl of Wiltshire, his son the Viscount of Rochford, and his daughter the Lady Mary. The Archbishop stood next to the priest on the raised walkway; he would crown Marquess Anne Boleyn as Queen Anne Boleyn after the priest married her to King Henry. The Abbey was loud but when the priest raised his hands, the innumerable crowd quieted, eyes eager to see something most only see once in their lifetime. The priest opened his mouth but no words came when a harried messenger burst into the Abbey; his skin was flushed and eyes wide as he panted for breath. Whispers from everyone in the crowd started at the sudden appearance and stoppage of events.

"STOP!" The messenger cried out and went to step forward but the Duke of Suffolk appeared and grabbed him harshly by the arm. They exchanged inaudible words and the Duke paled, looking at King Henry fearfully; it caused more whispers. He reluctantly led the messenger to where King Henry, Marquess Anne Boleyn, the priest, and Archbishop stood with different emotions. The King looked furious while the Marquess looked anxious. Both the Archbishop and the priest were confused.

When the Duke spoke, his words were heard by all. "Your Majesty, this man carries a Papal Bull with haste. He is adamant that everyone hears the contents before the ceremony."

King Henry frowned; his eyes roiled with displeasure. "What does it say, messenger?"

The messenger gathered himself and unfurled the Papal Bull. "It says, Your Majesty:

King Henry of England, eighth of that name,

As St. Peter's heir, endowed with the wisdom of God as His living presence on Earth, I am forced to act. I condemn your actions in choosing to marry Anne Boleyn. 'Tis a marriage against the laws of both God and man, and a blot against God's order and teachings. Any children borne from such an unholy, despicable union will be forever tainted with the stench of illegitimacy, unable to inherit your grand titles and power. You will not marry this whore, or you will be excommunicated from God's Church, from Rome itself. The Vicar of Christ has spoken. The Papacy rejects the marriage of King Henry of England to Anne Boleyn. Under threat of excommunication, you will cease from your efforts to marry your whore and return to your rightful wife and Queen, Catherine Trastámara.

Pope Clement VII."

The crowd was stunned in silence; nobody spoke, eyes staring fearfully at their beloved King and the Marquess whom he chose to marry and elevate to the Queen of England. The Marquess was shaking; her face was pale and eyes were wide while her arms were wrapped around her stomach in a protective gesture, cradling it almost hysterically. After a moment, the Archbishop departed silently and following him was the priest; nobody spoke as they left.

All eyes turned to the King and he was still - and that's when it was felt. The sudden rage emanating from him clouded the air; it was thick and tangible, suffocating. His brilliant eyes darkened into the blackest storm clouds and he stomped towards the messenger, each footstep booming like thunder itself. The messenger immediately fell to his knees and pleaded for mercy. The Duke of Suffolk, who looked shaken by the Papal Bull's words, held the messenger in place as their handsome and furious King approached.

"Mercy!" The messenger cried out hysterically; tears spilled out of his bulging eyes. "I beg you, Your Majesty! Mercy!"

The King loomed over the messenger and everyone was reminded of how tall he was; his eyes were black but he didn't roar and scream as people had anticipated. "You are not with whom my indignation lies, messenger." The King held out his hand and the messenger shakily stood to his feet; he was still much shorter than their King. "Give me the Papal Bull."

"Of- of course," the messenger stuttered and his shaking hand held out the Papal Bull and the King immediately snatched it with great speed - a foreboding omen.

"Your Grace," the King addressed the Duke of Suffolk, whom many knew to be his greatest friend. "Guide this messenger to the fountains of wine. He is in need of it."

The Duke of Suffolk bowed his head and led the terrified messenger away. The King stared at the Papal Bull; his features contorted into something vicious. The French Queen stared at Marquess Anne Boleyn sympathetically and it was a change from earlier; something had shifted inside the King's sister. With astonished eyes, everyone watched as their great King tore the Papal Bull in half and dropped the two pieces; they fluttered to the ground silently but the impact was that of an explosion.

The King looked stoically at Marquess Anne Boleyn and held out his hand; she looked shaken and everyone felt sympathy and righteous anger for her. But to everyone's surprise, she suddenly stood taller and her head was held high; she looked like a true Queen. She took King Henry's hand and he led them out of the Abbey gracefully albeit the air of suffocating fury and dark resentment still soaked through the souls of all present; it lingered as a tangible shadow.

When they left, the whispers began:

"What will happen now?"

"That poor girl… She did not deserve that; she is no whore. She looked lovely, chaste, and kind; she looked a true Queen."

"The Pope has no right to do that!"

"What are you saying? The Pope is the heir to St. Peter, the Vicar of Christ!"

"Queen Cath- I mean the Dowager Princess of Wales entered the nunnery because of the weight of her lies! She was no virgin and that is why our good King Henry has no son to his name save for his bastard, Fitzroy."

"... But the Pope- "

"Is under the control of that bastard, the Emperor. It all makes sense. He is acting in the interests of himself instead of what is best for England! They say that he wishes to keep King Henry from marrying Marquess Anne Boleyn - who should now be Queen Anne - and having legitimate sons so that he can rule England through Princess Mary."

"The Spanish Ambassador! He's here! He works for that bastard, the Emperor!"

"That deceitful Spaniard!"

"Let's get him!"

"... Where is he?"

"Both Ambassadors are gone! So, too, are Princess Mary, the Duke of Suffolk and French Queen, the King's Chancellor, and the family of Marquess Anne Boleyn."

XxXxXxXxXxX

September 1529

Cromwell desperately tried to rid himself of his sudden tenseness but it refused to leave him - a bodily impulse, he reckoned. He stood uncomfortably to the side with his eyes averted as King Henry raged and annihilated the room; holes littered the wall and priceless vases and art were broken and torn asunder. Chairs were smashed against the walls and tables were overturned; deep roars of fury tore past the King's snarling lips and the sound filled Cromwell with trepidation.

Anne Boleyn stood near him, eyes vacant; her arms had returned to their place over her stomach and it furthered Cromwell's suspicions. She looked lost, devastated, anguished; her eyes, in spite of their vacant glaze, were welled with tears. The stunning turn of events, events that Cromwell had never anticipated even though he should have - he must be better! - had shocked everyone. The large masses of crowds for the wedding were enraged and Cromwell did briefly wonder if he would be forced to escort the King and Marquess to the Tower for protection if the crowds' rage didn't abate. It did relieve him, though, that their reaction was anger - at least most of them were angry. It meant that they, too, felt disillusioned with the Pope and Papacy. If that meant that their realization of how corrupt the Papacy was through the Emperor's undoubted influence, then it didn't matter.

England as a whole was humiliated and nothing sparked change like humiliation. Because of the Pope's untimely and shameful actions, Cromwell anticipated that England would be on the path to the true religion that much faster. Although, his joy at such a realization was nothing compared to his dread; he knew the potential dangers that could appear. Such a quick, rapid change would breed conflict and he knew that England's only allies would be those of whom, too, believed the true religion - which were few in Christendom's leading powers - and potentially King Francis depending on how much the King of France wished to spite the Emperor. He held hope that France would ally with England, though, because the French Ambassador had immediately expressed his disdain and outrage; it meant that King Francis might feel the same. The Spanish Ambassador, on the other hand, had looked delighted by the Papal Bull and the words therein. Cromwell already knew that Eustace Chapuys was a zealous man, and the way how the Ambassador's lips had curved at the messenger's words as he read the Papal Bull confirmed it.

Both the Emperor and Pope would raise their armies to annihilate England, and with the verification that the Emperor was controlling the Pope, who was too cowardly to refuse, it meant that England might be able to convince other Christendom powers other than France to ally with them; it would be an attempt to save Rome from the Emperor's power, to save the Holy See from a tyrant and England, and more specifically, King Henry could use that as the finely-edged, steely sword to strike back at the Emperor.

"That fucking large-chinned serpent!" King Henry bellowed and smashed his foot into one of the fallen tables; it exploded into deadly splinters. "That coward! Clement is a disgrace, a squander of human flesh!" The King finally turned his gaze to look at Cromwell and he was deeply unsettled to see His Majesty's eyes were black; they seemed to suck in all sources of light. "Those two have ruined everything, the conniving bastards! They will pay! By God as my witness, they will face their reckoning!"

Cromwell wet his dry lips, "Your Majesty, what… what are your wishes?"

"For God to smite both Clement and the Emperor at this very moment!"

"Henry, please," Anne Boleyn croaked and Cromwell, without thinking, gripped her shoulder, fearful that she might collapse. "Stop it," she wavered and the King darted forward and pulled her into his arms tightly; she sagged in relief and sorrow.

"Oh, Anne, my darling Anne." King Henry's eyes closed and Cromwell averted his eyes; he felt awkward all of a sudden. "I am so sorry. 'Twas never in my thoughts, these events."

"What will we do?" Anne Boleyn's anguished words caused him to look back at them; her hands clawed into the King's back desperately. "Oh, Henry, how…?"

King Henry suddenly stared at Cromwell with fiery intensity. "Did you do as I asked?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Good. We need to be married lawfully in haste," the King sighed heavily and some of his overwhelming fury seemed to dissipate. "She is pregnant; 'tis one of the reasons why we wanted the wedding so quickly."

Cromwell's eyes closed as his thoughts were confirmed. "I had my suspicions, Your Majesty, but never wanted to voice them."

"Rightly so."

"What do you wish me to do?"

"Secure England's future. My son must be legitimate, Mr. Cromwell." King Henry's eyes sparked and crackled; they were on fire. "Do not fail me. I will marry Anne and do not care who I anger."

"And… about the Pope's ruling, Your Majesty?"

"Ignore Clement's cowardly act. Do whatever you must."

"Of course," he hesitated. "And the Emperor?"

"Fuck the Emperor; he has interfered in my affairs for the last time."

"I will work tirelessly to see this resolved, Your Majesty," he swore. "By the time of your son's birth, you will be rightfully married and your son will be legitimate."

The King raised his chin; his eyes looked into Cromwell's soul. "I will hold you to that promise, Mr. Cromwell."

XxXxXxXxXxX

All right, that's it for this one, everyone. I hope that you all enjoyed it and please leave a review, whether or positive or negative. It really helps out with letting me know what's working and what isn't.

**Charles Brandon and his wife Queen Mary Tudor of France talk about Anne Boleyn and the upcoming marriage. In history - and the TV show, too - Mary Tudor Duchess of Suffolk hated Anne Boleyn because of her long friendship with Catherine of Aragon, but I was always interested in the similarities between her marriage with Charles Brandon and Henry's marriage/love affair with Anne Boleyn. Mary risked everything by marrying Suffolk; she infuriated her brother, going against the word of an anointed King of Christendom, Henry VIII - and Henry VIII wasn't really known for his understanding and sympathy. Frankly, by what we all know of Henry VIII, it's astonishing that both Mary and Charles Brandon came out of the ordeal relatively unscathed. They remained in the King's love for the rest of their lives and only had to pay a fine - although, it was a big fine. (Frankly, I do believe that Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor had a good marriage - not like how the show interpreted it - and that his wedding to his ward, Catherine Willoughby so soon after Mary's death was financially motivated instead of romantically because Henry VIII wouldn't excuse the debt that his best friend owed him.) Anyway, I wanted Charles Brandon, who has had a change of heart in this story, to open his wife's eyes a little bit by provoking the notion of how they themselves married for love, and how Henry is kind of doing the same.

**Henry and his daughter, Mary talk and Chapuys appears at the end. If you felt that Henry was too harsh on Mary, well, that would line up with his personality, wouldn't it? In history, he was quite cruel to both his daughters for their mother's actions - although Mary was stubborn, too, just as her parents before her. Yes, the bit about Pope Clement VII hinting that he would be willing to issue a dispensation for Henry Fitzroy to marry his half-sister, Mary if Henry VIII stopped his attempts to seek an annulment for his marriage to Catherine of Aragon is true. And yes, Anne is already pregnant in this; it's the same as how it happened in real-life history but several years earlier. (Remember, when Henry VIII married Anne Boleyn in 1533, she was already pregnant with Elizabeth Tudor.)

**All right, I know that I took a lot of liberties with the whole Holy Roman Emperor and Pope Clement scene but… it's fiction, so it could technically happen. From what I know, there has never been any indication that Charles V had motivations to actually rule through the Pope, although it was true that he wanted to dominate the Church. (Correct me if I'm wrong, please!) I really wanted to get into the mindset of Rome during this time after the Sack in 1527. I don't think that people truly understand how terrible it was. Before the Sack, the population of Rome was over 55,000 but after the Sack, the population dropped to under 10,000. That's over 45,000 people who died because of or during the Sack and frankly, it's a miracle that Pope Clement VII escaped; his Swiss Guard did their job. Yes, the League of Cognac wasn't actually vanquished until 1530, but as I said, I'm taking some liberties. It was defeated only a year earlier.

**Henry and Anne's wedding, along with Anne's coronation as Queen is about to happen but is interrupted. First off, yes, I did base it heavily on the wedding between Prince Arthur Tudor and Catherine of Aragon in 1501. Because I'm such a dramatic, I chose for the messenger with the Papal Bull to arrive right before the actual ceremony begins, but the festivities have been on-going for hours. Of course, the reactions are what you would expect, and Henry is enraged but keeps his cool not to explode in front of his people.

**Cromwell is there when Henry does explode and discovers that Anne is pregnant. Henry then orders Cromwell to do what he must to secure a legitimate marriage and son for him.

That's it. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them. I'd be more than willing to answer them. Please leave a review to tell me what you thought about it because it would help me out.

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