A/N:

As with my other updates I am sorry that this chapter took so long to get out. It was a rather difficult chapter to write, but I got there eventually, and I do hope you all enjoy it.

Thank you as always to everyone for their support, especially to those who reviewed, or put myself or the story on their favorites or alerts lists.

As always I own nothing. A few scenes in this chapter have used dialogue from 'Showtimes, The Tudors,' on which this story is based.

Please, read, enjoy and review.

Chapter four:

18th of August 1536

Richmond Palace

Mary waited with bated breath in the rooms she had been assigned to at her father's court. The last time she had been to court she had been but a child, now she was a woman of twenty years. A woman who had been forced to experience more hardships than most would endure their whole lives.

Mary was proud to say that she had endured what had come at her with dignity and grace, just as her mother had, just as her mother would have expected of her. She had stood tall in the face of adversity, she had not once relented upon her beliefs, no matter how many sweet promises had been whispered to her, and angry threats thrown her way, Mary had never deterred from her course; Until now.

She would be lying if she said she had not been hopeful when her father had discarded Anne Boleyn. Hopeful that it had meant he had finally seen sense, that he would welcome her back with open arms and apologise for all that had come between them. She had been hopeful also that his new wife would speak for Mary's cause, that Jane Seymour, a good catholic woman who had supported Mary and her mother (and who had been instrumental in Anne's fall), would fight for her reinstation.

But Mary had been wrong.

Her father had not seen the wrong in his ways, he had not discarded Anne with a desire to reinstate his daughter as his heir and rename her mother as his true wife and Queen. No, the King had simply grown tired of the woman he had changed his country for, she had failed to deliver him a son and so he had threatened to cut off her head, only mercy had saved Anne Boleyn and only relenting would save Mary now.

Mary had always been prepared to accept Jane as her father's wife and Queen, Mary's mother was dead, her father had been well within his rights to remarry (although there were some who would now say that Anne was the true Queen, when once they had said the same of her mother), and if Jane bore her father a son Mary would accept him as the countries future King. Mary had been ready and willing to come to such terms, but they were terms that never came to her.

He had still wanted her to sign the oath. She was still to be named a bastard and her mother and liar and a whore, Anne Boleyn's removal had done nothing to strengthen her position, in fact it may have just made it worse. He had been willing to kill her, if she had not found herself pregnant he would have, if the people had not risen up against her imprisonment he would have had her killed once the child was delivered, if he would do that to her, the woman he once claimed to love above all else in the world, Mary shuddered to think what he would have done to her, his rebellious and ungrateful daughter, had she not relented.

Mary still shuddered at the memory; her father had sent Sir Francis Bryan to treat with her. The man was a cousin of Anne Boleyn, yet it was rumoured that he helped orchestrate her downfall.

He had not been kind to her.

" Lady Mary."

" My Lord," She had been pleasant, she had not even reprimanded the man for not using her correct title. She had been glad to see him, a representative of her father at last, a man to bring about peace, " I am very glad you've come to see me."

Sir Francis had said nothing to her words, yet he had sat across from her all the same, " I've written a letter congratulating the King on his marriage, and begging leave to wait upon Queen Jane or to do her grace such services which would please her to command me."

" I'm afraid Lady Mary, I've not come here to discuss pleasantries," He had not sounded afraid nor even sorry, just smug, smug that he had been chosen to treat with the King's eldest child, " His Majesty urged you to sign this."

" What is it?" She had not really needed to ask, she knew already. Nothing had changed.

" A list of articles, recognizing the King as head of the church, and your mother's marriage as incestuous and unlawful," She could not help but wonder if one day Elizabeth would be made to sign such an article, to declare her mother a whore and adulterer, " you must also renounce Rome and freely acknowledge your illegitimacy. If you do not sign, I'm afraid Mr Secretary Cromwell can not guarantee your safety."

Mary was almost positive that Cromwell wanted nothing more than to see her head on a spike, " However much I love my father, and would do anything to please and satisfy him, I still cannot risk my mortal soul for the favour of an earthly King."

" You are an ungrateful daughter," The words had been almost spat at her, and Mary had not been able to hold back a shudder, not even the Boleyn's had ever dared to speak to her in such a tone, " Since you will not submit to your father, he will have to proceed against you for treason."

" No, no he would not," why not? He would have killed Anne, he would have left Elizabeth without a mother, and "I cannot believe it."

" Listen to me, " Mary had felt her heart constrict at the tone he had used, a fierce growl filled with so much hate and anger as if she had somehow wronged him in another life, " If you were my daughter I would smash your head against the wall until it was as soft as a boiled apple. Do you understand? Lady Mary."

Mary had been unable to speak, unable to utter a single word, unable to tell him that she was not his daughter so it didn't matter what he thought, that she was her father's daughter; the King's daughter.

Her father had cast her mother aside, a woman who had borne him six children (although God had seen fit to take five of them away) the woman who had been by his side for over a decade, he had labelled her a whore and a liar. Her father had then cast her aside, his only living child, the girl he had called the pearl of his world, he had forced her to wait upon a bastard and refused to allow her to visit her dying mother. Her father had killed men that he had once labelled his friends, he had killed a man he had once called a brother and he would have killed Anne Boleyn and married Jane within a week. If her father had done all that then whose to say he had not sent this man, this monster to scare her into submission, whose to say he had not commanded Francis Bryan to do whatever it took to make Mary submit.

So Mary nodded her head and signed the papers in front of her.

She was a bastard now, by her own father's will.

She would be meeting with her father and Queen Jane privately, she would be presented to the court that night and Mary honestly did not know what event she was more nervous for.

She felt a hypocrite; she was only being allowed to meet with her father under such circumstances. She had signed the oath, but she did not mean a word of it, Chapyus had come to her straight after, as soon as news had been bought to him, the Pope would grant her forgiveness, she had signed under duress.

Her cousin however would offer her nothing else. Her mother was dead, and so too it seemed was the Emperor's interest in the situation. He wanted an alliance with her father; she had to make her way in the world alone now.

When she heard the sounds of the doors to her chambers opening Mary dropped to her knees immediately, she did not raise again until he was before her, she could see his black boots standing just millimetres away from her dress, he placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face.

He looked young still, still the same man she had always remembered. Handsome and Kingly and fearsome all the same. The woman behind him was not what she had expected.

Her father's new wife had long blonde hair and a pale complexion, her eyes were blue and her dress was brown and plain. The only thing extravagant about her person was the pearls draped around her neck and on her headdress. Mary had heard it said that Queen Jane was fond of pearls and that all of her ladies were required to have one hundred and twenty four pearls upon their girdles, Mary had heard it whispered that Anne Basset had been refused leave to serve upon Jane because she had not been dressed grandly enough to be allowed to seek a royal presence.

She was a good looking woman, a good looking Englishwoman, yet still Mary thought her to plain for her father, to plain to wear the crown that had once sat upon her mother's head (and Anne's too she supposed no one had ever called Anne plain).

" Mary, here is a note for a thousand crowns. If you need anything else you need only ask." The King's voice was somewhat gruff, as if the sight of her somehow upset him.

Perhaps he felt guilty; perhaps he thought he could buy back her love.

" Thank you, Your Majesty." Mary responded, finding that like her father her own voice had a certain husky sound.

" Father." Henry implored, a funny look in his eyes. She had always called him father, 'Papa' when she was younger but he never wanted his own blood to address him by a royal title. He could not help but wonder what Elizabeth would call him, if he ever saw her again.

" Yes, Father," Mary, responded evenly smiling for the first time.

" Allow me to introduce me to your stepmother, Queen Jane," Henry exclaimed taking Mary's hand and placing it in the Queen's own hands, she was cold to touch.

" Lady Mary," Jane said her voice soft and sweet, she kissed Mary once on each cheek as if they were great friends before wrapping an arm around her new stepdaughter, " It is so good to finally meet you. I have some gifts for you."

She bought Mary over to a chest that Mary had never noticed in the room and opened it; it was full to the brim with fine fabrics, enough to make a new wardrobe with.

" Your Majesty is too kind," Mary, said slightly taken aback, she had not been expecting this.

" Mary, gifts like these are easy compared with gifts of the heart. It gives me more pleasure than I can say to see you reconciled with your father." Lady Mary, I am here in kindness. I would welcome you back to court and reconcile you with your father if you will only accept me as Queen. Mary didn't know why the words of Anne Boleyn had echoed in her ears at Jane's words but she could not help but shudder at it, once she had sworn that she would accept no Queen save her mother, yet here she was with her father's newest bride.

5th of October 1536

Richmond Palace

" Mary's so sweet and affectionate," Jane stated interrupting the thick silence that had spread between herself and the King. They were eating their evening meal together as they so often did, yet for some reason Henry seemed distant with her, cold even, when he wasn't looking at his plate of food his eyes were wondering to his mistress.

He was angry with her and Jane didn't know why.

She had been everything he had wanted her to be, everything her brothers and father had told her to be, she had even reconciled him with his eldest daughter and there had been no word from Anne Boleyn since her exile. She thought he would be pleased with all that had happened; instead she feared he was growing tired of her. She had not been borne to keep a man's interests prolonged; she did not know how to make him want her.

" She's everything I had hoped she would be. It's no wonder she's so beloved for her virtue and goodness in the hearts of the people, Your Majesty has done well to find her a place at court, it is good to show her off," still he said nothing to her, he simply moved his head a fraction to acknowledge that he had heard her words, " Your Majesty, why will you not speak with me?"

" Because I am disappointed." Henry growled out between clenched teeth, wondering how she could not possibly see a reason as to why he would be disappointed in her.

" Why?" Jane croaked, fighting to keep her hands from shaking. It would not do her well to disappoint the king, Katherine and Anne had both once disappointed him.

" I'm disappointed because you are not yet with child."

And Anne is. The words hung in the air left unsaid but it was clear that both were thinking them, the King had discarded Anne because she had failed to give him a son, yet she was pregnant and the woman he had replaced her with had not yet shown a single sign of being pregnant.

Jane could not help the shudder that ran through her body. Her predecessors may have proved incapable of delivering a Prince for the realm, but they had never taken so long to fall pregnant. Anne and Katherine both had delivered a child within the first year of their marriage, he had no doubt expected Jane to fall pregnant just as easily.

As if it was her choice as to when she had a child. She prayed every night for God to bless her with a son, and she prayed every night for Anne Boleyn to have another daughter.

If Anne delivered a son while Jane remained without a child what would stop the King from returning to her. His greatest desire was to have a male heir, and already she knew the lengths he would go to get one.

" What is it?" Henry questioned Cromwell angrily.

His Lord Chancellor had called him from his bed. Henry had been contemplating whether to visit Jane's bed or Ursula's for the night, he would have decided upon Jane in the end he was sure, from now until she found herself carrying his son, he would commit to visiting her bed every night (that would surely put a babe in her belly). Cromwell's messenger had come and all but ordered Henry to make his way to the Privy Council rooms in haste.

The matter had better have been urgent.

Cromwell looked as if he had swallowed a lemon in response to Henry's words; he looked very much as if he would wish to be anywhere else but in front of his King. Perhaps it was news of Anne, perhaps she had delivered her bastard, perhaps she had died in childbirth, perhaps she was a whore indeed and the child looked so unlike the King that it could not be denied, or perhaps (an even worse possibility) the child was his very image and he had cast it aside for a woman who could very well be barren.

" A great part of the north as well as part of Lincolnshire have risen in sudden rebellion against Your Majesty." Cromwell all but whimpered his words, and for a second Henry had thought he had heard his chancellor wrong.

A rebellion? It seemed impossible his people loved him, they had always loved him, until recently, a voice in his head reminded him, until you all but cut off your wife's head. But surely that was not it, his people had not risen up against him when he had annulled his marriage to Katherine and declared Mary a bastard, there was no way they would do so for Anne's cause. The people had loved Katherine, but they had loved him more and they had never loved Anne, because they blamed her, they thought she was the reason for the break from Rome, they thought it was her fault that Katherine was cast aside, maybe now they see that it wasn't.

Perhaps they had thought that with his marriage to Anne annulled and with Jane being of the Catholic faith that he would return to Rome and that he would reinstate Mary to the succession.

If they had believed that then they were fools.

" Why?" Henry ground out between clenched teeth. He knew well enough that whatever Cromwell told him he would not be pleased by.

" It seems that they are not pleased with the suppression of the ministries." Cromwell's voice was low and Henry had to strain himself to hear him.

" Why didn't you know?" Henry spat, " You are supposed to know everything that goes on here. You told me there was little opposition, on the contrary, you told me that most people were glad to see such placed dissolved, you were wrong."

" Yes, Your Majesty." Cromwell conceded bowing his head low, it was better he agree with the King now than argue his cause.

" Now you will fix it."

November 18th 1536

Pembroke Castle, Wales

For Elizabeth's birth Anne could remember that she could hardly breathe.

She had been a Queen then, a Queen birthing the long awaited prince and she had been surrounded by a whole herd of people all confided to one room. Now there were only four people in the room with her, yet Anne still found that she could hardly breathe.

Mary was on one side of her and Nan on the other, while the midwife was placed in between her legs, with Madge doing the woman's bidding whenever it was needed. It was almost as the birthing chamber of a common woman would be, a common birth for a bastard child.

It was fitting really.

When Bessie Blount had given birth to Henry Fitzroy, the King had paid for a respectable midwife and sent his own team of physicians to watch over the birth and to be on hand in case anything went wrong. The King had sent his former wife nothing.

Anne had paid for a midwife out of her own pocket, the best one she could find in Wales, if anything went wrong it would be the midwifes job to fix it.

Elizabeth had been put to bed long ago with her cousins. Mary's eldest daughter had made the journey to Pembroke three months previously, and she was keeping watch over her cousin and half siblings, while Anne birthed her child into the world.

It was almost comical really how quickly Anne had forgotten the pain that had come with birthing Elizabeth. It was like once the child was placed in their mothers arms, that the pain was just erased so great was the joy to have a living and healthy child in your arms.

The pain she had endured in her last miscarriage would forever be engrained in her body and mind, but Anne that that this birth came a close second.

She felt as if he body had been split in two and she just wanted it to stop. She just wanted it to be the part where her child was placed in her arms and the pain was quickly forgotten.

" I can see the head my lady," The midwife announced suddenly and Anne felt a small sense of relief, she was near the end, her child was almost here, " It wont be long now."

" Come now, Push Anne, " Mary soothed from next to her, her grip on her sisters hand tightening, " Push."

" Arghhh," Anne screamed tears rolling freely down her face as she did so; she pushed with everything she had every last bit of strength she had in her to bring her child into the world.

And suddenly she heard an infant's wail.

" It is a boy, my lady." The midwife announced, lifting the screaming babe up for Anne's inspection so that she might see the truth of her words.

She had birthed a son. She had birthed the King a living son, and it was all for naught. Her son who should have been King was now seen to be nothing more than a King's bastard, that was of course if the King would acknowledge their child as his own.

" Is he healthy?" Anne questioned, leaning up on her pillows and watching as the midwife and Madge cleaned her son up and wrapping him in a woollen blanket.

" Very much so," The midwife responded, handing the boy into Anne's waiting arms, " He is a picture of perfect health."

And the very image of his father, Anne could see none of herself in her child, he was the King's image in every way, from the dark tuff of hair sitting on his head, to the shape of his nose and the colour of his eyes, he was all Henry.

He was everything she had once promised the King she would give him, a son who is the living image of his father, but he was hers now and hers alone, Henry had cast them aside, he had cast this boy aside for the hope of a son with that whore, a woman who after five months of marriage could not find herself with a child in her belly.

" No one will be able to deny he is the King's son," Mary said smiling down at her little nephew, " It's just with Elizabeth, he is a true Tudor."

" No," Anne responded fighting back tears, " he is a bastard, his father made sure of that."

" Anne, Jane is still not pregnant, perhaps now the King will…."

" What take me back?" Anne interrupted trying desperately to keep her emotions in check, " Declare himself a fool and a murderer? It will never happen, he doesn't want me…. he doesn't want us."

" Will you write to him?"

" Yes," Anne said kissing the top of her son's head, " I will write to him. I will tell him I have birthed him a son in his image, while his little whore's belly has stayed flat."

She would name her son George, for her brother and to remind Henry of the atrocities he had committed for Jane Seymour, the atrocities that had cost him a legitimate son.

The only question would be to his last name, she could not name the boy Tudor or even Fitzroy without the King's leave. But she would get it; the whole world would know that she had birthed the King a son.

" Mama," Elizabeth chirped happily, placing a finger in-between her brother's tiny hands, " Will George be King one day."

" No sweetheart, he wont is." Anne responded evenly, trying to not let her emotions ruin the moment between herself and her two children. They were all that mattered to her, Henry no longer did.

" But he is the King's son." Elizabeth said simply as only a three year old could. As if that solved all the problems in the world.

" Yes, he is," Anne, answered smoothly, she would not have her daughter ever doubting that she or her brother were Henry's children, " But I am not the Queen, your father has another wife."

" I hate her," Elizabeth stated angrily, " She ruined everything."

" We have talked about this Elizabeth," Anne responded calmly, taking one of her daughters red curls into her fingers and spinning it, " You can't speak so angrily about Queen Jane, no matter how you might feel."

" Because Papa would be angry?" Elizabeth asked her eyes huge.

" Yes Elizabeth. Your father would be angry if he heard you speaking ill of Jane." And Anne could not give Henry reason to feel anger towards their daughter, if Henry ever had any desires to have contact with either of their children again, Anne would make sure that they did not give him reason to treat them as he had treated Katherine's daughter.

" Will he come visit us now? To see George?" There was so much excitement and hope in her voice that Anne did not want to disappoint her.

Anne had sent her letter to the King informing him of his son's birth, but she did not know what sort or response to expect. She had never thought to see him again, after everything he had done to her she would almost be glad if she never laid eyes upon him again in her lifetime, but for some reason she had never given much thought to what would happen once her child was born, and now that that child was a son everything would change again.

" I don't know Elizabeth. I really don't know."

A/N: So there was chapter four, I hope you all enjoyed it and the developments that came with it.

In this chapter we saw Mary reunited with her father, a bittersweet moment for her as it was only achieved because Mary signed the Oath of succession and publically declared herself a bastard and her mother's marriage unlawful.

We also saw that Jane Seymour is still not pregnant (as in history it took her a while to conceive) and Henry is growing tired of her.

The King has received word of the Pilgrimage of Grace, and is obviously not pleased about it.

And Finally, Anne Boleyn gave birth at last, to a son, a boy in the living image of the King. The consequences of this will be explored in the next chapter.

And there will be consequences, on Anne's position, on Henry's marriage and relationship with Jane and finally even with the pilgrimage of grace.

Thank you again, please let me know your thoughts and opinions.