A/N: Alright, let me start by apologizing for the delay. Due to starting a new job, preparing for Thanksgiving, as well as the madness of next month, I confess I was a little busy, but rest assured I added some extra length to hopefully make up for the lateness of this chapter. Thank you to Otakugirl1996, Robin4, QueenAnneTudor, gabbygrl247, heffy, princessElizabethtudor, Scifigrocerygal, Guest, SkittlezxBabex146, Guest, OlicityxSkyeWard, Frog1, Anne Tudor, and tricorvus for all of the wonderful reviews on the last chapter, as well as an additional thanks to Guest for the review on chapter 1. And that said, enjoy the new chapter and for those who celebrate it, Happy Thanksgiving!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.
...
There was no denying that the people of England were a fickle lot.
George Boleyn snorted with disgust as he heard the toll of the mourning bells as they rang to let all the country know that Queen Anne had died.
Even if many believed him to be so, George was not stupid; he knew that the only reason that the people had come around was purely due to the fact that they all saw the birth of Anne's twin sons as a sign that her marriage to the king was blessed and valid. After all, she had mothered the two heirs as well as a princess all within the span of three years, and of course there was the miscarriage of her unborn son or daughter from the pregnancy following Elizabeth and preceding the twins. But the fact remained that she had given Henry three children, all of whom appeared to be healthy whereas Katherine had only yielded one single daughter, who suffered from poor health.
Anne had wanted the people to love her as they loved the king, just as Henry loved her, and as they had once loved Katherine. But she was always rebuffed in her efforts to help them, and yet here they were now mourning her, even more than they had done for Katherine; her death had finally made them love her. Instead of whispers about the harlot who had seduced the king from his wife in an attempt to gain a crown, people now openly praised Anne as sacrificing her own life to safely bring the long-awaited prince into the world. And even more magnificently, she had given the realm a spare as well, even at the cost of herself. The woman who had given them their precious princes and secured the Tudor dynasty, as well as ending the very real fear of another civil war, was now lost to them all and they knew it.
'Hypocrites, the lot of them,' George thought savagely as his hand balled into a fist. He could feel his nails digging into his palm, but he did not care.
The Viscount of Rochford himself was aggrieved over the loss of not just one, but both of his sisters, within the span of only months. Anne was dead and Mary, having been disowned by their father following her marriage to William Stafford, was far from court, forbidden from contacting her kin by any means.
George had been there when Thomas Boleyn ultimately cut ties with his eldest daughter, even going so far as to tell her that she and the husband she had married for love could both rot in hell. Anne had not wanted to support her father in this matter, but at the time she was pregnant with the twins, her last hope of securing her position and in doing so her daughter's safety, as well as the fact that the scandal would cause even more unnecessary trouble for her. With all of that weighing heavily upon her, Anne had reluctantly enforced her father's wishes and Mary had been banished in disgrace.
George had never really been all that close to Mary, not like Anne, but in that moment he would have given anything to disobey his father and send for Mary, so that at least the pair could comfort one another in this time. But he also knew now that there was someone else who was in desperate need of comfort...
His young niece, Princess Elizabeth, had been inconsolable over her mother's death, but had tried her best to reconcile herself with it, taking solace in the knowledge that she was now an older sister.
Elizabeth had solemnly promised to keep alive her Mama's memory so that her poor twin brothers would still know of her and the love that she held for them. After all, Mama would not have died for them if she had not loved them. And it was that knowledge as well that would assure that Elizabeth would never blame her brothers for what had happened when it was clearly not their fault.
George had been shocked at the gravity of the child's words. She had spoken with grace and wisdom that should have been far beyond her tender three years. But then, her governess had stated that the princess was indeed quite intelligent for her age and as such was a credit to Anne and Henry.
He had failed in his duty as their brother to protect Anne and Mary, but George swore to himself that this time he would not fail in his duty as Elizabeth's uncle.
...
Henry stared lovingly down at his infant son. Little Prince Harry had been taken to his wetnurse for feeding while Prince Geoffrey now lay in his father's arms, his tiny head gently cradled in the king's hand.
While the pair were twins, it was clear to all that they were not completely identical. Harry was indeed the living image of his father while Geoffrey took on more of their mother's looks.
Like Elizabeth, Geoffrey had inherited Anne's piercing eyes, and when Henry found them staring up at him, he felt himself embrace the younger twin closer to him.
Many would regard the little Duke of York as only a second son and nowhere near as important as his brother the Prince of Wales, but Henry could never see his younger son as only a 'spare'. Especially when he knew how being seen that way felt.
Henry had never been intended to be king, not when Arthur had been the eldest. The second Tudor prince had been destined for the church, a suitable position for the one who would never inherit his father's crown or kingdom.
But then Arthur had died, and all that would have been his became Henry's instead. But their father, King Henry VII, never stopped comparing Henry to his dead brother, which led Henry to not only resent his father but his deceased brother, with whom he had never been close anyway.
He would not make his father's mistakes. Harry was the heir, the future king, but Geoffrey was a prince too. In fact, it was only a matter of minutes that had separated the pair and even then it was merely a twist of fate that Harry had been born first instead of Geoffrey. It could have very easily been the other way around.
Both boys were twins, practically born in each other's arms and Henry would not allow anything, not even a few minutes apart, be the thing that would separate them. Harry would be taught to love his brother as his equal and Geoffrey would be taught to respect his elder brother's claim to the throne but at the same time be shown the same courtesies befitting his rank as a prince. Henry would never let his younger son know the pain he himself had felt. He was not his father, he would be better.
...
"The king won't see anyone, but his fool and Mr. Cromwell," Charles growled softly as he took a sip of wine and slammed his goblet on the table. "Except for yesterday when he called for the princes to be brought to him."
Catherine frowned. Even if she tried not to feel malice toward the young boys, she still could not forgive their wicked mother for all of her foul deeds.
"That bitch would have the final victory," Charles had now worked himself into a fine temper. "I suppose it will no longer be necessary to store my knowledge and anger in order to one day destroy her now. Since she's already taken my chance to do so."
"First, she has her sons so the king would never think of discarding her and now she goes and dies," Catherine remarked bitterly. "And now she will be forever remembered as a martyr instead of the despicable whore she was."
Charles shook his head. He had known Henry since they were children, he would never allow himself to see Anne now as anything more than the wonderful woman who gave him the sons he had craved for so long. No, even in death she had been victorious.
But there was a silver lining to this now; instead of trying to find a way to free himself of Anne, Henry was now free to marry Jane Seymour, free to finally obtain that renaissance that he had told Charles he so desperately wanted. And now he could pursue Jane without incurring Anne's petty jealousy or having to go through the process of annulling the marriage to Anne. She wasn't his true wife of course, but now she was dead. Katherine was too unfortunately for her and Princess Mary, but Charles had heard that Lady Jane was a supporter of the former queen and the princess and if Henry did indeed marry her, perhaps she could be helpful in restoring the princess to her rightful place.
...
Jane sighed as she looked to the clear blue sky.
It was not stiflingly hot nor was it too chilly out so she had decided to go for a walk with her sisters Elizabeth and Dorothy along the grounds surrounding Wolf Hall.
She would be lying if she were to say she did not miss the king's messengers coming to bring her a gift or letter from His Majesty. She had always sent them back of course, but it had been a great delight to her that the king should show her such favor.
Her brother Edward had even told her that due to the struggles in the king's so-called marriage to the Lady Anne, Henry might set his sights on taking her as a wife instead.
Queen Katherine had passed just days before Anne herself, but as a result of the true queen's death, the King was a widower and free to marry once more.
Jane knew that it was rare for one to marry for love, particularly in the cases of kings, and while she did mourn the death of Good Queen Katherine, she also knew that when a man or woman lost their spouse it was expected of the widow or widower to marry again, once more especially in the cases of kings.
The king may have convinced himself to refer to his sons by Anne as princes when in reality they were not, but perhaps if he were to heed his heart and marry her, Jane would be able to bear him sons, true princes. And in doing so, she could use that to her advantage by coaxing the king into restoring his daughter to the succession. Surely, the princess would not object to her brother, or brothers, being placed ahead of her by virtue of their sex, particularly when the same thing would have happened if Katherine's sons had survived past infancy.
When she was queen, Jane would see to it that Mary was restored and treated as a princess deserved, not forced to wait on a royal bastard like Lady Anne had convinced the king to enforce. But she would not allow her feelings toward Anne color those of the children the woman had borne. She would not be petty and spiteful like Anne had been; even the kings bastards would have cause to say she treated them kindly.
"When do you think the king will call on you again, sister?" Elizabeth asked, pulling Jane from her thoughts.
Jane sighed.
"I do not know," she admitted. "Perhaps when he has the time to do so again."
"You mean after he finishes crying over that whore," Dorothy frowned.
Edward had warned his sisters to take care of how they spoke of Anne, but in the seclusion of Wolf Hall, they did not think there was any reason to fear.
Jane sighed again as she nodded. She was eager to see the king again, but understood that even if he no longer loved Anne, he must show some semblance of grief for the sake of appearances. Then there was no doubt in her mind that once a sufficient time had passed, he would once more come about to court her. She needed only be patient and wait for him.
...
The lightness in Henry's heart when his sons had been brought to him had now left him the moment the twins were returned to the nursery.
Henry had known that he and Anne had had troubles in the last months of their marriage and after the births of their sons, there might have been a chance for them to reconcile, to be the happy and united couple they had been in the years of the Great Matter when the pair had been the dearest lovers in the world, when they were just two fools in love whom everyone had been determined to tear apart. But against all odds they had made it. Where had it all gone wrong?
A part of him couldn't help but think it was around the time after Elizabeth had arrived. She had been beautiful even as a baby, but Henry had been disappointed that despite the astrologers and soothsayers' assurances that Anne was carrying his son he was instead given another daughter.
Elizabeth grew to become intelligent, cheerful, and charming. But she wasn't a boy. Henry knew Katherine's supporters had seen the birth of a second daughter as a sign that the marriage between him and Anne was invalid and that he was wrong to leave Katherine and break away from the corruption of Rome. But now they had all been silenced.
While he now mourned the loss of Anne and the love that had once been between them, he was pleased that his sons continued to appear healthy.
Elizabeth was very gifted for a girl, but Henry had no doubt that his sons would be even more so. God had been generous in giving Elizabeth the traits she now displayed and surely He would be even more so toward the boys.
And then there was Jane...
Henry hadn't thought of her in some time, what with everything that had happened. But now, he found himself thinking of the conversation he and Charles had engaged in not long ago; how he wanted a new beginning, a Renaissance. And Jane, who was the complete opposite of Anne, could be just the woman to give it to him.
Anne had been fiery and passionate and Jane was sweet and demure. Even their looks could not have been more different; Anne, some had said when they believed Henry could not hear them, was not beautiful in the traditional sense with her dark hair and swarthy complexion, but Henry found such exotic looks attractive, as had some of the other men of court but they had not pursued her for fear of angering the king. But there was still something alluring about her due to her intelligence and wit. That, coupled with her skill in other languages, most notable French, had further added to the air of mystery that clung to her like perfume. Anne had spent most of her time growing up in France and at times had seemed more like a French woman than and English woman.
On the other hand, Jane was a true English Rose. From her milky white skin and pale blue eyes to her golden hair, she was lovely. She was also possessed of a much more gentle temperament and meekness that Henry himself found endearing and actually rather soothing after the years of the wiles of the far more fiery Anne. His chaste friendship with Jane had indeed acted as a balm to Anne's fits of rage, fits he was quite certain Jane would never allow herself to display.
His heavy heart lightened once more as he envisioned the life he could have with Jane. Her kindness would surely extend to Elizabeth, Harry, and Geoffrey, even if they were not her children. And with God's help, perhaps she could give him another child, many even. And most pleasantly of all, his motherless children by Anne would not have to live without a mother's love.
And so he made up his mind. After the time of mourning for Anne had passed, Henry would become the humble suitor that a virtuous maiden like Jane deserved. Perhaps before the year's end he would have a new wife, his sons and daughter would have a new mother, and perhaps if he were blessed with such fortune, his eldest daughter would finally submit and Jane might be with another child.
It would be perfect.
...
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And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you all enjoyed it and the next brand new chapter will be out on Saturday, December 1st. Until then, everyone.
And once more, I wish those of you who celebrate it a Happy Thanksgiving.