A/N: Alright, as promised here is the brand new chapter for you lovely readers. I hope you all enjoyed the holidays, and as we leave 2018 behind, thank you to OlicityxSkyeWard, princessElizabethtudor, Guest, jamestudor, QueenAnneTudor, Pietrolives, suns and stars, and Demi3456 for all the reviews on the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy this brand new chapter and may you all have a Happy New Year.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

September 25th, 1538

Jane never thought it would be possible, but she found that she actually felt some degree of sympathy with Anne Boleyn now that she was in the same position the other woman had been in.

No...Anne had not had to contend with Katherine already having two sons in the royal nursery while she struggled to achieve the same. Had Katherine borne Henry even one son, he never would have strayed from her and been ensnared by Anne and her promises to give him a son.

How could a vile, heretical harlot like Anne have had two sons whose resemblance to their father the king would allow no one to dispute their being Henry's children when good women like Katherine and Jane had tried and all both had yielded were daughters?

Jane couldn't understand it, but at the same time she smiled when she saw her baby girl.

A soft layer of pale blonde hair already adorned her tiny skull and her eyes were a pale blue like her mother's.

Jane felt she could see traces of Henry's York ancestors on his mother's side, but not much of Henry himself. Nevertheless, the child's resemblance to her father's maternal relations might help soften the disappointment Jane was sure the man would feel now that he had to contend with the fact that his long-awaited son by Jane had not been and he now had a third princess instead.

She was not sure what her husband would wish to name a third daughter, but she had a name in mind; Margery for her mother who had passed before she could see her eldest daughter married and become a mother herself.

"His Majesty, the king!"

Jane's hair had been combed and now hung down her back in a curtain of golden locks and she and the babe had been cleaned and placed in a freshened bed, the infant swaddled and now resting contentedly in her mother's arms.

"I hear you have borne a daughter," Henry was smiling and his tone was gentle but Jane could see the disappointment in his eyes. Was this how Anne had felt when she had given him Elizabeth?

"Yes, Your Majesty," she answered meekly, impulsively hugging her child closer to her, almost as if her body was afraid that her husband would take the baby away.

"Is she healthy?" The king turned to Dr. Linacre, who nodded.

"Yes, Your Majesty, from what we can detect this far," the physician answered.

Henry then shifted his gaze back to Jane.

"If we can have a healthy daughter then surely we can have a healthy son," he said before turning and walking toward the door.

"What does Your Majesty wish to name the new princess?" Jane asked softly.

Henry looked back, his expression unreadable.

"Call her what you like, Madam," he answered in a hollow voice, before turning around.

Jane turned to her baby. She was disappointed that a boy had not been born first but she had always wanted a daughter.

"Her name is Margery," she declared, though Henry gave no indication that he had heard her.

After the infant was christened and Jane herself churched, the blonde queen was dismayed to find that while she knew the festivities celebrating the birth of a princess were not as grand as those celebrating the birth of a prince, the events for Margery were without as much pomp and ceremony as Elizabeth's but about the same as Mary's.

It was so unfair that the infant should suffer such indignity when she and her half-sister Mary were the only ones who could claim true legitimacy. And yet Elizabeth was the one accorded the honors due to a Princess of England. But Jane could say and do nothing about it.

...

Mary was disappointed for her stepmother when she learned of her child's birth and the king's cold reception of his newest daughter, as if a healthy girl were something to be ashamed of rather than being happy and proud of this new little blessing he had so graciously been given.

Mary herself couldn't help but be delighted at the prospect of another sister to love and to one day play with and teach to be a good lady and someday, little Princess Margery would be a fine bride for any king or prince to claim as his own.

At the thought of marriage, Mary tried to force herself to think of something else, not wanting to once again be forced to accept that her father had yet to offer any arrangements for her to marry.

She was twenty-one years old. She ought to have been long since married with at least one child of her own by now. And yet here she was, still a maiden and the only children she tended were her little half-siblings. Would she ever be married or would her father force her to remain unwed and let her die an old maid? She was too afraid to think of the answer.

...

Charles was horrified.

It wasn't enough that he had been forced to go back on his word to those who had participated in the Pilgrimage of Grace. No, now Henry wanted to rub salt in the crusaders' wounds and have Charles use hundreds of innocent women and even children as a fearful example to any who might attempt to oppose the king in the future.

It was wrong, the people had done nothing to warrant such harsh punishment. The leaders had been dispatched, it should have been ended now. But Henry never settled for less than complete victory.

"What if they were your own children?" Catherine had asked him.

"I would still have to do it."

In truth that was the only answer he could give her. If he lost the love of his king and dear friend, all was lost. Why couldn't she see that?

The door opened to reveal Catherine. She did not speak or even look in his direction as she sat by the hearth, stroking her belly.

The babe that would have been their firstborn had been lost and now Catherine had announced she was once again with child mere hours ago.

Charles sighed.

"Catherine," his tone was soft but she flinched as if he had shouted at her. She stiffened but made no effort to face him or address him.

"Catherine, please speak to me," he pleaded quietly.

Still no response, other than her peering into the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and dance.

"Catherine!"

Charles slammed his goblet of wine on the table and hurried over to her.

"We must speak," he said. "Now."

"There is nothing to say," Catherine said coldly, attempting to push past him.

Charles didn't even think about what he was doing, his anger had caused him to take leave of his senses and now his body seemed to have a will of its own.

As Catherine tried to flee, Charles reached out, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" The Duke of Suffolk exclaimed angrily, furious with her for the way she had looked at him, and how she had treated him as though he chose this. "You blame me for this, I know that. But remember if I had not obeyed the king, my head would be the next to be mounted on a spike. And was it not you, my 'dear wife' who told me not long ago to do what I must to keep my head?"

"Charles," all traces of coldness had left Catherine and her eyes were filled with terror. She had never seen Charles so angry, not even at Anne Boleyn.

Her soft voice, that usually had soothed his anger, now only further infuriated him and he tightened his grasp on her wrist until the skin underneath his fingers turned a stark and alarming shade of white.

"Charles, let go of me!" Catherine cried out, trying in vain to pull her wrist free.

"What if they were my own children? Would you have been concerned if they had been Protestants instead of Catholics?" Charles knew he was on dangerous ground but he was too livid to care. "Or would you have thought they were heretics who deserved to burn in hell?"

Catherine was crying now and tugging her arm weakly.

Charles shoved her away and stormed off to his chambers. He could feel regret seeping into his mind and heart, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to speak to his wife. She had made him feel even more guilty for long enough. It was done and nothing could change that.

...

Mary smiled as she held the new little princess in her arms.

Her father may have been disappointed that the babe was a girl, but his eldest daughter found she was very fond of her newest little half-sibling.

Harry and Geoffrey were still too small to understand what had happened, but Elizabeth had been a little more reserved when it came to the idea of another daughter.

Mary couldn't help but think perhaps the younger girl was worried that their father would be less affectionate to her if there was another little girl to lavish affection on.

While she knew from experience exactly how that felt, Mary also knew Elizabeth would more than likely have no such trouble; Mary had been there when her father expressed his disappointment that Jane had only given him a girl when he had so wanted another son. But due to her resembling him the most, as well as being Harry and Geoffrey's sister, Elizabeth was never short of attention, attention Mary herself had been on the receiving end of once.

...

...

Alright, so I hope you all enjoyed that new chapter and the next one will actually be out tomorrow. Just a little heads up, I have decided to skip ahead once again in the next chapter, this time to about two years. Don't worry, folks. There will be plenty to make up for the skip, I can assure you of that. Until tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen.