Hello people, here I am with a new chapter. Today we have Mary/Greg first kiss! But don't skip parts of the chapters, otherwise I'll make you suffer. SERIOUSLY :D
Thanks Dani for the brainstorm!
Chapter 16
Mary had retired to her private chapel in order to not hear the screams that came from Katherine Howard's bedchamber. At first she thought of going there in order to be by her side during the deliverance. Certainly that would earn her his father's sympathy, but then she reconsidered. It would be a lie, and they both knew it: Mary was sure she was the last person Katherine would want to see during such an important time for the country. The princess felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach: what if it was a girl? Mary allowed herself to be a little selfish, wishing that Katherine gave birth to a little daughter instead of the long awaited Duke of York. It would be a major failure for the Howards, once again, eight years after the birth of Elizabeth, her little and beloved sister. Nevertheless, Mary hoped – for her father's sake – that the baby was a boy. Henry VIII wasn't known for his ability of handling deception very well, as much as the idea of being casted aside from the line of succession by a little boy with Howard blood running in his veins made her stomach churn in discomfort. Mary chastised herself for such thoughts and prayed for a healthy child, no matter if it was a boy or a girl.
She didn't know for how long she had been knelt in front of the altar when the sound of bells echoed in the small chapel, making the stoned walls of the chapel reverberate with the sound. The tone was cheerful, happy, booming. Mary didn't need any more information to tell the gender of the child: only a boy could provoke such bliss in the English realm. While on one hand she was happy for having another brother, on the other hand she felt her eyes burn with the threat of tears. It was over for her. All her hopes of being Queen and restore the country to peace and rightfulness were ruined.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a discreet cough of Lady Susan Clarencieux, her favourite maid-in-waiting. Then a sound of footsteps and a cane echoed in the small chapel, allowing Mary to identify her visitor long before he finally stopped behind her, crossing himself. She turned around and smiled warmly. He seemed to have a gift to know when she most needed comfort and advice.
- Eustace – Mary was just about to give him her hand to kiss, but then at the last minute she gave up and let her arm drop disappointedly. She was no longer hoping her father would restore her to her rightful place, and even if he did so there would be always a Duke of York in front of her. Nevertheless, Chapuys leaned forward and caught her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it determinedly. Her smile grew wider in gratitude and affection.
- I suppose you have already heard the news – he nodded towards the window, from which anyone could see the bells tolling.
- Indeed – Mary said, giving a few steps forward and sitting on the stone bench below the window frame, and making room for him to sit beside her. – Her Majesties must be overjoyed – she said in the lighter tone she could fake. – I can't wait to meet my newborn brother – she added, trying to sound convincing, but realising her failure immediately, as soon as she saw a sympathetic smirk playing in Eustace's lips.
- My gentle lady, lying is not part of your sweet and excellent nature. Therefore, you are terrible at it – A little smile escaped from Mary's lips before she could control it, but it was quickly replaced by her usual melancholy.
- It doesn't seem fair that such a futile woman as Katherine Howard is blessed with a son when my sweet Lady Anne is crying and praying every single night for a chance to hold her baby in her arms again – she whispered. – She didn't deserve it. They didn't deserve it, no matter what Cromwell has done in the past. No one deserves to have his child stolen from his parents' arms. And it's all my fault – she let out a quiet sob. Chapuys shook his head.
- Milady, it is nobody's fault. It could have happened even if you didn't ask the Lady Anne to join you. Cromwell has many enemies, even more now, ever since he escaped the scaffold and managed to remain in the king's good graces. There are people out there who are willing to do anything in order to bring him down. It is not your fault, my lady. Don't say that.
- Then why do I feel guilty? – Mary felt her cheeks burning due to the tears that were now streaming down her face. – Why do I keep dreaming about him every night? It's always the same dream: he is there, sleeping peacefully in his cot, but whenever I try to pick him up my hands become heavy as plumb and I can't move them!
- Because you have a kind heart and you care about their misfortune – Chapuys reached for her hand, caressing its back with his fingertip. Surprisingly, Mary cut the distance between them, resting her head on his shoulder. The ambassador used his free arm to embrace her, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, until Mary broke it with a whisper:
- What will become of me, now that my brother is born?
Chapuys sighed. There were moments when he hated his job, and that was definitely one of them. For a moment he thought of softening the truth, but it would be of no use.
- May I speak bluntly, milady?
- Always – she looked up, her greenish eyes meeting the blueness of his. She knew what he was going to say, but nevertheless she wanted to hear it from his mouth.
- As things are now, I don't believe you have any chances of being restored – he stated as neutrally as he could. She closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them her expression betrayed nothing apart from resignation.
- I suppose I owe you an apology, then – she faced him, trying to smile.
- I'm afraid I don't understand – he frowned in surprise.
- For making you work so hard and fight so relentlessly for nothing. In the end, all your efforts were useless. I am not the male son my father desires. I am but a maid, who can easily be overthrown by her own little brothers.
- Milady… - Eustace protested. – You have nothing to apologize. I would do everything again and perhaps even more if I were given the chance. I don't want your apologies, I only want to be remembered as a loyal subject and maybe – if you find me deserving of such honour – as a friend.
- Are you thinking of leaving England? – she felt a wave of panic running down her spine. He bit his inner cheek before answering:
- I suppose my services are no more needed, as much as it pains me to state such a thing.
- No! – Mary squeezed his hands into hers. – Please Eustace, don't! I need you here. Please.
- But your claims to the restoration… - she cut him off, waving impatiently.
- This is not about my position, it's about me. Mary, simply Mary. I need you here. I need your help in a very important matter.
- Finding Cromwell's son? – he countered.
- Yes! You know a great many people who would be very helpful. Please… we need everyone we can gather. Furthermore… - and she blushed, not finishing the sentence.
- Furthermore… - he gently prompted her.
- I need you here… I know it's selfish but there is no one else I can rely on as much as I rely on you. Now that my father's attentions are completely absorbed by everyone else but me, who else will be there to remind me that there is still hope and kindness in this world? I am not asking this as your lady, but instead as your friend – she smiled. – Please, Eustace.
He looked deep into her eyes, deeply moved by her words. Although he would never admit it, Mary had become the daughter God had never allowed him to have.
- I will stay if that's my lady's wish – he finally answered.
- Mary. You are not my crusader anymore – she reminded him lightly.
- I'll be your crusader as long as I live – he looked at her straight in the eye. – I will stay here, Milady… Mary – he corrected himself. – Alas, it wasn't as if I have ever had a choice to refuse – he said smiling tenderly. Mary let out a stifled laugh. He always had the gift of cheering her up even in the middle of chaos.
- Of course you had not, Eustace – she said, forgetting for once the protocol and simply throwing her arms around his neck gratefully, holding him tighter as she felt his arms closing around her. – Of course you had not.
She heard him laugh quietly and slightly kiss her hair. When they parted, nevertheless, his expression was back to his normal seriousness.
- You should go and meet the Queen and your brother. It will cause a good impression.
- What's the point of it? She won, anyway – Mary bit her lower lip.
- That's precisely why you should meet her by your own initiative. Never allow an enemy to see you defeated, Mary – he advised, caressing her chin. She nodded in agreement, before standing up and straightening her dress.
- I'll do that right away. The sooner the better, is it not?
- Indeed – he smiled. – I will stay here and pray, with your permission.
- Be my guest – she crossed herself for a moment before closing the door behind her. Her feet immediately guided her through the maze of hallways until she stopped at the Queen's bedchamber door. The ladies did not curtsey, apart from the old Lady Shelton and Catherine Carey.
- I was wondering if I could see Her Majesty – Mary said warmly. – If she is well enough to receive me, that is.
- His Majesty the King is with her right now – the Duchess of Norfolk said in an indifferent tone. – I don't think they would like to be disturbed. – Mary turned to her, her brow arched.
- I will ask… if Your Grace can join them – Catherine Carey said carefully, avoiding the gaze of the other ladies.
- Thank you, mistress…
- Carey, my lady. Catherine Carey.
- Thank you, mistress Carey, you are far too kind – Mary said sympathetically, while the young woman curtseyed and entered the room. A few minutes later, she made a gesture for Mary to come forward.
- Your Majesties, the Lady Mary.
Mary curtseyed deeply to her father and her stepmother.
- Have you come to meet your new brother, Mary? – her father smiled. – You may come closer.
Mary smiled as a blond, blue eyed baby peeked from the bundle in his father's eyes.
- Meet Henry Tudor, Duke of York – her father said cheerfully. – Would you like to hold him?
- It would be an honour, Your Majesty – Mary caught Kitty's eyes, and her stepmother beamed in an annoying smile of superiority. Henry passed her the bundle, and as soon as her nostrils were filled with that soft, sweet scent of a newborn baby, Mary felt again this iron fist clutching her heart. She remembered Stephen, her sweet godson, with his blonde hair, his sapphire blue eyes… just like Henry. She had to suppress her tears, hiding them behind a smile. It wasn't Henry's fault that he was so alike with the poor Cromwell baby.
- He is beautiful – she said, cooing him tenderly. – Truly beautiful – and with a small kiss on the forehead she passed him back to Henry, whose eyes were totally on his newborn son and his wife. Mary felt unnecessary there. It was so unfair. God had a wicked sense of humour. It was so utterly unfair, she thought after curtsying and leaving the room, rushing to the gardens. It was so BLOODY unfair, she thought just before collapsing under a tree, hugging her knees and letting her tears flow once again, until a gentle hand cupped her chin and made her look up.
- Gregory – she tried to smile, but failed miserably.
- What's bothering you, milady? – he asked concernedly, sitting in front of her, his legs folded and crossed on the grass.
- Guilt – she simply said. – Nothing but guilt, and unfairness. The Queen is rejoicing while your stepmother is heartbroken. I can't stand it.
- You have no reason to feel guilty, milady. How many times have we told you that?
- Not enough times to make me believe it – she countered.
He sighed, reaching her hand and kissing it respectfully. He knew she was suffering as much as them, and he couldn't help but pity her. Following his instinct and for once forgetting his place, he wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her shaking while her tears wetted his shoulder.
- I just wish things could go back to what they were. Everything back in its place.
- I know – Gregory made her face him, their foreheads touching. – Believe me, I know.
Mary just stood there, her eyes lost on his, her suffering mirroring his. Her eyes moved irresistibly to his lips. His thin, pressed lips who seemed so soft yet so masculine. Stop it, her mind advised her. Stop it before you regret it. You are distressed, you are not thinking clearly.
Nevertheless, her lips seemed to have a will of their own, as well as Gregory's, which met her halfway. Their kiss was tender, brief, but nevertheless incredibly sweet. When they parted, none of them talked. Instead, Mary hugged him again, feeling soothed by his strong embrace. She folded her fingers just behind his neck, grazing a piece of drier skin in the process. Intrigued, she passed her fingertips all over it. It was a circle of brown skin, barely visible beneath his clothes.
- It's a birthmark – he whispered in her ear. – My father has one too.
She smirked, facing him again. The sun was almost setting; she needed to go back to the castle.
- Thank you, Gregory.
- For what, milady? – He blinked.
- For everything – Mary said, kissing his cheek just before rising up and starting her way back to her apartments.