Disclaimer:

This may not be historically accurate, well actually, I am pretty sure this is not at all accurate – however, this is not a history book for Uni, but a work of fiction, specifically a fanfiction. Fanfictions are here to play out the scenarios I as a fangirl didn't see on the show, but would have loved to. So I do apologize for any pain I cause to history students, but I guess they wouldn't watch 'The Tudors' in the first place.

Secondly: I do not own any characters of the Tudors and all that. I own nothing. All belongs to the BBC, Michael Hirst and whoever else was important and responsible for this awesome show. I created the character of Lady Sadb (which is pronounced /saiv/, it's an Irish name) yet feel free to use her, in fact I would be flattered if you do.

I think that our favourite Secretary only had to deal with all the non-fun, serious stuff and he really needed a little love and also a nice little romp of his own. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it! And please review if you have a minute to spare :)

Prologue / Setting

King Henry VIII, Edward Seymour, Thomas Cromwell and some other important statesmen are in Ireland (before Henry VIII became King of Ireland in 1542). Lord Conan, of the O'Brien Clan is acting as ruling monarch, yet actually his daughter Lady Sadb manages all the stately affairs.
(Sadb is pronounced 'sive', like the word five but with a 's' instead of an 'f'. It means "sweet, goodly" in Irish Gaelic.)
Lord Conan is quite uncontrollable and borderline insane, very moody and hard to deal with. So Cromwell always talks to his daughter, who is, if not in title, but in rank, like a princess. Under the guise of pleasant talk, these two, Cromwell and Lady Sadb handle the business of the country.

Chapter 1

"Great, we're in Ireland, this bitch of a country. I loathe to be here, Lord Hertford. If only we could set sail again and leave this godforsaken place, but look at them, look at those two, blabbing away all afternoon with no end in sight! Oh, I swear, if it weren't for that bloody rebellious treacherous Irish bastards maybe supporting the men in our North, I would drag Cromwell from this filthy isle myself this very bloody instant. Ugh, just look at them! Yak yak yak. How much can there be to talk about!" Henry rolled his eyes and made a 180 degree turn.
"And just look around you! It's all so, so green and … Irish! And so boring! I swear, there is nothing to do around here than to get hammered or to die. There is a reason why all the Irish are raging alcoholics. Mark my words, Lord Hertford." the King tipped his nose and continued to stare at his surroundings.
Henry was in a foul mood as ever and Lord Hertford was smart enough not to say anything in return. It was actually quite pleasant here, they were out in the open, the weather was warm and agreeable, the wine was good and all there had to do was wait around for Cromwell to end his chat with Lord O'Brien's daughter.
He could do worse, Lord Hertford decided and so held his tongue and continued to watch the 'nobility' of Ireland scatter around, making themselves agreeable to the English Lords and Dukes and what have you. Edward Seymour inwardly snorted, "Irish nobility! More a bunch of Gaelic villagers trying to be something they were clearly not meant to be." Tomorrow, he had to attend an assembly with all of them and he resented to attend that event. What was there to be said? How could one even talk to people so decidedly beneath himself?

KKK

Edward entered the room where the assembly was to take place. He was early, of course, but he was always early. One had to be on top of the game, always prepared and focused. Never to lose focus, maybe that could be said to be his motto. He walked about the room, looked out of the windows and wondered why Cromwell wasn't here as well. He, as well as him, was the type to be over-prepared and to turn up one hour early just in case, just to arrange everything to his satisfaction. However, no sign of Cromwell. He brushed through his light brown hair and picked off some lint from his attire. It was important to look the part of an earl and never to let oneself go. He caught his reflection in a window pane and was pleased. He did look handsome enough, yes, more handsome than the King himself. Reassured, he turned away from his image only to find somebody else in the room with him.
It was Lady Sadb O'Brien, the daughter of Lord O'Brien, and effectively the heir to the Protectorship of the Irish Isles. She bowed her head gracefully and greeted him: "Your Lordship." He bowed shortly as well, but well, this was ridiculous. She was Irish for god's sake and thus her 'nobility' was nothing more than a play on words. He was in fact quite irritated to be alone with confused him slightly and he did not like to be not 100% in control. For an Irish woman, she was surprisingly classy, well educated, of a prudent and rational mind. No wonder she and Cromwell got along so well. Also, she was not entirely vile to look at. In fact, she looked rather pleasing he thought somewhere in a well hidden corner of his mind. She had regular features, strawberry blonde hair and even though she had freckles on her cheeks and nose, which were absolutely not part of the ideal of beauty of Tudor England, it, well, … it it suited her. And she had a nice smile and good teeth. Edward liked women with good teeth and always took good care of his own ones. He realised that he had started to stare at her which made Lady Sadb quite uncomfortable, although she pretended not to notice it. She tried to pass the time by small talk, yet to no avail. He merely grunted a reply to her remark about the fine weather they were enjoying while their stay in Ireland and that was that. Lord Hertford couldn't bring himself to talk to her, as if she was a person of his rank, his status, an equal! She was so very much below him! He should and could and ought not to. Fancy an Irish woman! He nearly snorted out aloud, for the thought was just to plain ridiculous. Nevertheless, he continued to stare at her a good deal, drawn to her face for reasons unknown to him.
In silence they waited for the other members of the assembly to arrive.

KKK

Cromwell always wondered at the peculiar state of things at the Irish Court. That is was common knowledge to everyone that Lord O'Brien was completely useless in terms of politics, that his daughter (a woman, good Lord!) would step in and rise to the task and that it was generally tolerated and accepted, yet of course never acknowledged.

He admired Lady Sadb for her ability to both handle politics and to endure the state of permanent non-appreciation of her ideas, of her doings. He more than admired her. He was in love with her. Utterly. Completely. Of course, it was never meant to be. How could it be? He was of so low birth, a mere commoner, playing in the realm of the nobility, and she was the equivalent to a princess. This could never be and to think about it made him so sad, that he had banned every thought of it into the deepest, most hidden places of his mind, never (well almost never) to be revisited. Left there to be forgotten. However, for fate is a cruel mistress, unbeknownst to him, Lady Sadb felt the same way. She was in love with him as he was in love with her.

KKK

In the evening after the assembly, Cromwell and Edward Seymour sat together by the fire, the King had gone off to bang some random lady in waiting. Seymour was always a bit intimidated by Cromwell due to his intellect, however, fortunately Cromwell was of low birth and so, Hertford couldn't feel too bad as he was a bloody earl. Cromwell took a sip from his goblet of wine and stared into the flames.
"So, what do you think of our progress here?", he asked Edward.
"I guess it's alright, considering it's Ireland we're talking about. I cannot believe this god forsaken place is in effect run by a lunatic like that Conan bugger. That this country is still independent surprises me to no end."
"Well, it is not entirely run by Lord Conan and you as everyone else know that.", replied Cromwell, furrowing his brow lightly."Mmh, there is that, of course", Edward acknowledged thoughtfully. They went silent for a couple of minutes, both occupied with their own thoughts.
After a while, Cromwell turned around to Edward:" So..., what do you think of the Lady O'Brien?"
Edward didn't quite know what to say. There was something about that lady yet she was not his equal and what could be said of those people anyway? Yet, he also didn't want to give offence to her openly, as they were still on this bloody isle and also because Cromwell did seem to respect her. "Well, Master Cromwell, she is Irish.", Edward managed to say, which was quite enough to be said and also nothing at all.
Cromwell smiled and turned his head back towards the warm flames of the fire. He exhaled softly:
"I think she is a jewel. If it were not for my low birth, I would not care if she was from the end of the world. I've never met a woman where both wits and beauty were so happily balanced."

What was said surprised not only Edward, but also himself. Why did he confess this to Edward Seymour? The man was nothing to him, and Lord Hertford most certainly saw Cromwell many steps below himself. An awkward silence set in where both men mused over the words which were just said. Edward was irritated by Cromwell's comment an congratulated himself for being an earl and not in such a desperate place as Cromwell, to fancy a woman he well knew he could never touch.
"Well", Edward tried to somehow reply to Cromwell's statement, but found himself in no position to do so. They weren't friends and certainly had never shared an intimate moment like that before. "Well, ...she is, .."

"Forgive me", Cromwell's words broke the the silence, "it was the wine talking. I bid you a good night, Lord Hertford."
"Master Cromwell", Edward nodded and for a split second, Cromwell seemed to see something in the earl's eye which almost looked like understanding. Yet, maybe it was only the reflection of the flames caught in the earl's eye and he left the room, embarrassed and regretful to have given so much away of his most private thoughts.

KKK

"So you now will leave this beautiful island of ours once again, Master Cromwell", Lady Sadb smiled at him. As it was Court procedure, Lady Sadb was not allowed to the official farewell session held by Lord O'Brien and thus, her and Cromwell had developed a ritual of their own over the years, bidding each other farewell in her drawing rooms. They both enjoyed that one tiny intimate moment, for all the servants were at the grand farewell audience in the grand hall and it was just her and him - at least for a couple of minutes until an usher would come to take Cromwell away.

"It was as always very pleasant to see you and talk to you", he smiled a beautiful warm smile and looked at her, then lowered his gaze. He expected an equally warm goodbye, yet this time...

Lady Sadb takes a step closer to Cromwell and lays her hand on one of his hands, which are softly folded over his chest. She presses his warm hand gently and looks at him. Cromwell is quite confounded by her sudden touch, his heart pounding in his chest. He stares at her, confused, breathless.
"Thomas", she whispers and raises an hand to rest on his cheek. Lightly caressing his ear and cheek, she breathes irregularly. She is close to tears and her hands tremble a bit.
"I know", he hears her say and the full extent of his love and respect for her washes over him. His insides feel twisted and ache, he feels like having a white hot iron inside of him.
Yet she continues to stroke his face and the pressure of her hand on his increases ever so slightly. She looks up into his agonised eyes, with eyes wet with tears, with a look so...
And then he knows.

He knows that she loves him, loves him as much as he loves her and he cannot believe his fate, cannot believe this moment, this – her! affection, but there it is, right in front of him, longing for him the same way as he longs for her.
"My Lady!", with a trembling voice he brings their intertwined hands to his mouth and kisses her hand, most ardently, most gentle, most lovingly, and she smiles, smiles from under a veil of tears and laughs, which rather sounds like crying. And then they both gaze at each other, oblivious to the world around them.
Her hand wanders down from his face and finds his other hand and just as he did moments ago, she kisses it, as it were the most precious, the most delicate thing in the world. With entangled hands, one entangled human being made of two stands there and breathes trembling in unison.

"My Lady. I have to go". Cromwell's voice nearly breaks, for he feels his heart might.
She nods and releases his hands from their warm embrace and he bows and smiles the saddest smile in the world. She smiles and nods again, releasing him formally.
"I look forward to speaking to you next time you're on our Green Isle", Lady Sadb manages to say.
He bows again and both their hearts break as he closes the door behind him.