Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.

A/N: Hello everyone! A title has been decided: The Crimson Petal and the White. Thank you to all who voted! Welcome to all my new favs/followers: mrs. Morgan 35, Countess of Sherwood, QueenElizabethOfYork, roundaboutway, AryaStark21, Renaissance Maiden, and mt1000. As always, I recommend Athenais Penelope Clemence's Chained by War and Love.

Ch. 4

But what is he whom rule and empery
Have not in life or death made miserable?
~Christopher Marlowe, Edward II

Love is not full of pity (as men say)/ But deaf and cruel where he means to prey.
~Christopher Marlowe, Hero and Leander

Whitehall 17 June 1536

To welcome the king's daughters to court, a joust had been arranged in their honor. The king had specifically organized the event himself to present a united front to the courtiers and to show that he took pride in his role as a father. A platform had been set up, Henry sitting on a magnificent throne with Jane to left sitting on a smaller, more queenly throne. He wore another purple ensemble, the Tudor insignia hanging from his neck. Jane too wore a dress of purple, the bodice showing the royal color while her sleeves were a deep green. Pearls and amethysts decorated the gown, a crown of the same jewels on her head.

Mary sat to the king's right with Elizabeth in her lap, wearing matching gowns of green and white with pearls. Mary scanned the crowd for Grace, the Duchess of Gloucester missing from their ranks. Grace apparently mastered staying out of sight, Mary sending a sly look towards her father whose sapphires also eyed the nobles. The king would not participate in the joust, though he was eager to. His last accident had made him wary and though his wound had healed on account of quick thinking, he did not want to risk his health.

Meanwhile, inside the confines of a tent near the jousting arena, Percy adjusted his armor. The silver metal had been polished to a perfect shine, a steel gauntlet placed on his lance hand while extra metal plates had been fitted across his chest and right side for reinforcement against impact. He also bore a shield with the Northumberland crest, five fusils in fess on an azure color as well as an azure lion rampant on a background of yellow with the motto Esperance En Dieu, Hope in God, etched in gold. A servant tightened the outfit, making sure nothing would come loose as his lord rode.

The entrance to the tent flapped open, Grace appearing in a gown of azure blue, the color of the Percys. The Earl of Northumberland chuckled at her choice, turning his finger in a circle as if commanding Grace to twirl. She indulged him, spinning around to show off her dress which was fashioned in the French style. Her brown locks carried a tiara of sapphires, not one to be outshined by the new queen. She was making a statement, that Jane's position was secure merely because her and Anne had stepped aside.

"You look ravishing, Grace," Percy complimented, excusing his servant with a nod of his head. He approached Grace, the duchess tilting her head up to his as their lips met. Her mouth parted at the firm pressure of his tongue while his hands cradled her face ever so delicately as if she were a piece of glass.

"And you look extravagant in that suit of armor, like a knight from my books as a child. Are you slaying a dragon today?" Grace teased. A hint of amusement lingered in his cornflower eyes, mirrored in Grace's own.

"There are no dragons here my love, unless you count my opponent Edward Seymour." Grace's eyebrows rose at the mention of the dreadful man.

"He is your opponent? Well then, he is sorely outmatched," Grace spoke confidently, earning herself a feather light kiss.

"And what shall I win if I defeat my opponent," Percy asked curiously, a glimmer of faith in his gaze.

"A bride, perhaps." No jesting was present in Grace's voice, but a stare of genuine promise. She would marry him regardless of if he won the match or not. She had made her choice, but it was sweeter a victory if Percy defeated Seymour. Besides, she wanted him to think he had to work for it.

Percy thought he had heard her incorrectly, expecting her to pinch him or giggle, but she was serious. She would not joke with him on this matter and the outcome of gaining himself a bride, a woman who he coveted, was enough encouragement for him to knock Seymour off his horse a hundred times over. Percy lifted Grace's hands to his mouth, kissing the top of her knuckles lightly. "Your heart is not to be won in a jousting match, Grace. It is much more dear to me than that."

"I can do with my heart as I please and I will give it to you if you win your match," Grace replied softly. She nudged him towards the opening of the tent at the sound of a trumpet sounding. "And I believe that is your cue, by lord."

Percy sent her his trademark smile, stealing another kiss from her before heading to the mounting block behind the lists. He swung into the saddle easily, his servant giving him his helmet which Percy placed over his head. He lifted the visor slightly, his eyes peering out from underneath the helmet. He then received bis lance, adjusting it in his hand slightly as Grace observed him. He did look stunning on his horse, the animal decorated with metal plates protecting its head and eyes from the sand while also wearing a cloth under the saddle that bore the Northumberland standard.

Turning to Grace, Percy sent her a mischievous look. "My lady, may I ask that I wear your favor for luck?" Percy extended the edge of his lance to Grace, a shadow of a smirk crossing his striking features.

Grace stepped forward, her green orbs sparkling up at him with mirth. "You may." From her wrist, she untied a silk ribbon of white, tightly wrapping it around the lance and tying it in a knot. It fluttered as Percy lifted his lance, winking at her as he spurred his horse across the sand towards his servants and took his position before his run.

Across the lists, Henry viewed the interaction with dismay, his hands tightening ever so slightly on the arms of his chair. His teeth clenched at the sight, Grace innocently giving Percy her favor while the earl displayed a triumphant smile as he headed to the end of the lists. He watched with slit eyes as Percy took his position on his side of the tilt, placing Grace's favor under his breastplate and readying himself for the joust. Edward Seymour was on the other side, Henry secretly praying his brother-in-law would knock Percy off his horse.

A flag was waved between the two knights, signaling the start of the first round. Percy and Seymour raced towards each other, both of their lances hitting their targets. Grace flinched at the sound of the lances crunching against the armor, splinters flying in every direction as the lances broke. Percy appeared uninjured, though Grace's forehead remained furrowed as she struggled to see Percy clearly through the crowd that had gathered at the barriers around the lists.

A second run occurred, Seymour gaining the disadvantage as he hit his target. Percy had missed, the lance omitting it's mark terribly, but he remained on his horse. Grace swallowed nervously, hoping Percy's pride was not affected just because he didn't hit Seymour. But when he turned to Grace, a confident smile appeared on his features and she chuckled to herself. He was not done yet.

A third run occurred, the two men racing towards each other on their horses. Percy steadily held his lance in the cradle position, his mind set on destroying Seymour. The lances each clashed against their opponents, Seymour barely hitting Percy's side while Percy knocked his lance into the side of Seymour's head. Edward fell off his horse, crashing to the ground in a heap, but he was not dead. He was left breathless on his back, a few scratches on his face. He was lucky he was not further hurt, but he shakily made his way to his feet with a defeated look on his face.

Percy let out a triumphant yell, removing his helmet and throwing his lance at a page as he did a victory lap around the lists. The crowd cheered at his luck, applauding and yelling out compliments at the earl. A dashing smile beamed down from his face, but it was reserved for Grace alone as he sought her out among the sea of people. She emerged, grinning from ear to ear at his win.

Percy unceremoniously dismounted his horse, making a beeline for Grace as he lifted her into the air, spun her around, and took her mouth fiercely with own for all to see. This only encouraged the crowds even more, their yells increasing at the blatant display of affection. Grace giggled at his behavior, knowing he was only sealing their betrothal with a kiss.

"Fetch my armor!" Henry demanded to his one of his servants, the man wide eyed and confused as Mary and Jane turned to the king in astonishment. They had all seen Percy reveal his intentions for Grace in front of the whole court, Mary holding her breath as she waited for her father's reaction. He was going to resort to displaying his own manly prowess instead of letting Grace be happy.

"Father?" Mary questioned, her father rising to his feet abruptly as he fiercely yanked at the servant's collar. She refrained from stepping in, letting her father go through his cycle of anger without interference. It would be unwise of her to do so otherwise.

"You heard me!" Henry barked, "Fetch me my armor. I intend to joust today." The poor man almost fell to the floor in fright, scrambling across the lists to gather the other pages in Tudor livery and to alert Mr. Cromwell of their king's order.

"Your majesty, do you think that would be wise? I would not like for my husband to hurt himself," Jane voiced, only concern lining her pale blue eyes. She sent him a pleading smile, but Henry overlooked the request and trudged towards Brandon who was sitting in the stands.

The Duke of Suffolk had also witnessed the king's sudden fit of anger, halfway out of the stands when his best friend grabbed him roughly and pulled him to the side of the platform away from prying eyes. "The audacity of it Charles. Right in front of me as if I don't even exist."

"Majesty, you realize that you are married now. The Duchess of Gloucester is not a regular woman. You and I both know that. And participating in the joust will only drive a further barrier between you two." Charles looked to the king with reason, hoping he would stop this madness and return to his new wife. He could not follow after Grace anymore when she did not want to be. She had made her decision, choosing Percy over the king, and it finally settled in Henry's mind. He did not want to accept it, he wouldn't. But listening to Charles, he took a step back from his fury and breathed in a calming breath.

"I won't joust today, but I won't stop pursuing her Charles. Not ever," Henry replied. He was determined in his quest. He would never give Grace up. Charles could only stare at him with pity, wondering when this impossible feat would be gone from Henry's mind.

Grace and Percy had retreated to his tent, Percy removing his armor to reveal the sweat and dirt underneath. Jousting was taxing work as Grace saw, wiping the grime off Percy's forehead with a wet cloth while he sat before her. She circled around him, leaning over to trace her fingers down his chest and back up over his shoulders to squeeze gently.

Percy groaned at the feeling, his head lolling backwards against Grace's chest as she massaged the sore flesh. "That feels heavenly," he drawled, relishing in the feeling of her hands on his shoulders.

"Well, it's quite deserved after your hard-won victory," Grace spoke, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Among other things."

"Other things?" Percy asked. "What else do I deserve?" he teased, a look of mischief taking over his features. His gaze followed Grace as she glided back around, looking her face on with desire. He was completely surprised when she went to remove her clothing, his mouth opening slightly as he looked at her in awe.

Grace's gown pooled like water around her feet, leaving her upper half bare to Percy's eyes while her underskirt still covered her lower regions. Percy's eyes glazed over as she teased him with every stretch of bare skin, even more enticed when she peeled his shirt from his body, leaving him bare-chested as well as he stood up and pulled her body towards him with one hand, the other tilting her chin up. Her breath hitched in her throat, his arm tightening around her waist as his nose grazed hers.

For a brief moment, Grace wondered if Percy would reject her advances, but he kissed her, fiercer than she had thought he would. Lifting her skirts to her waist, Percy lifted her up slightly with his arm around her waist. Grace squeezed her thighs around his middle, her hands behind his neck. Their kiss never broke, his tongue tracing a line across her bottom lip before urging her mouth to open.

"Say it. Say your mine." Percy nibbled on her ear before biting lightly, bringing her body to life.

"I…I'm yours," Grace whispered across trembling lips. One hand held steadily to the back of his neck, the other squeezed between their bodies, reaching for the laces on his breeches. He tensed at her touch, groaning at the feeling of her hand against his member as it slid inside his breeches. She had untied the laces and was now easing him out before she lifted herself every so slightly to place her center over him. She hovered over him, Percy being able to feel her delicious heat. They hesitated for a moment, Percy asking with his eyes for permission. It was granted with a nod of Grace's head and he completely sheathed himself within her.

Standing there in the open, they both shivered at the pleasurable sensations of becoming one. And overtaken by their lust, Percy's hungry lips found Grace's while he slightly thrust his hips into her. However, standing didn't give him the depth he wanted, and he removed her from his member a moment to carry her over to the table. There was no bed, something Percy regretted immensely. He didn't want her to think him an animal for taking her on a simple table.

With a single sweep of his hand, Percy cleared the oak table of its items as they crashed to the floor in a glorious mess. He lowered Grace down onto it, lying her back with extreme gentleness. "You can stop me, Grace. We can wait."

"I don't want to wait," Grace replied breathlessly.

That was all the encouragement Percy needed as he spread Grace's legs and kneeled before her to lay kisses on her thighs teasingly. He nibbled at the soft skin before his mouth reached its true destination, Grace writhing with want as she laid on the table. Her fingers buried themselves in his golden hair as he tongue swirled around her center. Grace's back arched in ecstasy, her hands running down the firm muscles of his back as she pulled him up higher. They had all the time in the world to torture each other, but she needed him desperately.

Grace wrapped her legs around Percy's waist as he clambered over her body, digging her nails into the skin on his strong back as he littered her with kisses over her breasts. He teased the globes with his mouth and hands devotedly, his tongue swirling around the buds before capturing them in his mouth one by one. When finished with the flesh of her breasts, Percy drew his face up to Grace's lips for an open-mouth kiss. He groaned as her lips opened under his, giving into his passion.

Feeling his desire hard against her thigh, Grace grabbed his member once more, coaxing Percy to enter her. He immediately obeyed her urging, thrusting into her tenderly as she pressed her hips to his. His tongue raided her mouth while his length plunged into her wet depths slowly. He didn't want to rush their coupling, savoring the feel of her center around him.

Percy surged against Grace, slowly but deeply. Every movement of his body was slow and deliberate as he drew every moan from her lips, swallowing them with his mouth. He clearly held himself back, desperately trying to please Grace before he exerted his whole being on her. His mouth moved to her neck, feeling her pulse race as he kisses the soft skin before biting down softly to extract a whimper from her lips. His fingers glided down her body slowly, pushing between them to stroke her bundle of nerves. His breath was hot and heavy against her throat, the sound making Grace quiver.

Grace felt her pleasure building, pulling Percy towards her as her hands grabbed his hips urgently. Percy didn't break his slow rhythm, driving Grace mad as she bit her lip in anticipation. Every thrust brought her closer to the edge until she tumbled over, no control over her body as her orgasm overwhelmed. "Henry, Henry, Henry!" she called out, Percy grinning against her neck as she yelled out his first name in rapture.

Percy barely gave her a moment to recover, unable to hold back the sexual predator inside of him. He thrusted into her quickly, his speed increasing considerably as he let himself go. Grace clutched him to her chest, her legs tightening ever so slightly around his waist. Percy surprised her, pulling one of her legs up to hook over his shoulder. The new angle allowed Percy to delve even deeper into her core, and Grace through her head back as she tried to contain the scream that threatened to pour from her lips. Percy covered her mouth with his once more, drowning out her sounds as he muffled them with his lips.

"Not that I don't mind your screaming sweetheart, but perhaps it would be better if we were in my chambers," Percy teased when Grace was able to control her sounds. Grace giggled at him, pressing her lips against his in passion. Grace could feel him drive deeper and deeper into her, his moans against her lips as she felt his orgasm approaching.

Grace abruptly flipped them over, straddling Percy as she started to rock against him. Percy didn't protest, running his hands up and down her bare thighs before digging his fingers into her hips when she moved faster. His eyes held an intense look as she looked down her body at him, blushing when he made a move to cup her behind. She leaned forward, her breast rubbing against his chest while her lips hovered over his own. Percy visibly gulped, his eyes widening as she tightened her core ever so slightly to bring him to his climax.

"God Grace," Percy whispered, her name like a prayer ghosting across his lips. "I love you," he declared. "Call me mad, but I love you." He finished, his seed bursting inside her as they brought their lovemaking to a halt. Breathing heavily, Grace slid her body down Percy's, shivering when his member left her core bare and aching. He was in the same condition, her heat gone and leaving him wanting more. She laid her head against his chest, calming her racing heart as Percy softly drew patterns against the skin of her back.

Grace lifted her head slightly, opening her green orbs to see Percy regarding her with cautious tenderness. She ran a delicate finger across his stomach and chest, reaching up to stroke her thumb against his cheek. He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm lovingly as he gave her a look of adoration. "I meant what I said, Grace. I love you and now that we are to be married, I don't think we should wait."

Grace giggled at his eagerness, resuming her stroking as she messed with the hairs on his chest. "What would we be rushing for?"

"Well, there's the chance that you could have conceived my child, our child, and I won't risk your reputation by not marrying you before your condition shows," Percy explained, his arms tightening around her.

"Ever so honorable, my future husband." Grace brought herself up on her elbows, her dark hair making a curtain around their faces as she kissed him. "Then we should marry as soon as possible. I'll send a letter to my father and after I have told Mary, we can leave for Warwick Castle immediately. Unless, you would rather we get married in Yorkshire."

Percy reached up to tangle his fingers in her hair. "I have to admit, my mother had hoped that we would marry at Wressle Castle. The matter is entirely up to you," Percy spoke.

"Then I should like to please your mother and I will tell my family to travel to Yorkshire for our wedding." Percy smiled at her decision, knowing his mother and family would be pleased that Grace would want to marry at his family home. "How does it feel to have yourself a Neville bride, my Lord Percy?" she teased.

"Nothing could compare to the way I feel right now, Grace. You are my world now. Don't forget that."

Warwick Castle 20 June 1536

The Duke of Warwick rejoiced in the letter he had just received for his only daughter would be married to the Earl of Northumberland within the next month. He had predicted that Grace would eventually give in to Percy's proposal, but not so soon. He had won her heart and Warwick could only hope his daughter loved Percy in return.

"We are to travel to Wressle Castle, Thomas," Warwick announced, turning to More as they lounged in his study. Warwick had a schedule of answering his letters and documents pertaining to his estate daily, More usually joining him if he was present.

"What on Earth for? That's all the way in Yorkshire." More was entirely confused at his brother-in-law's words until a light bulb of recognition went off in his head. He chuckled to himself. "So Grace did accept Henry Percy's hand in marriage. The poor lad. He has no idea what he's gotten himself into," he joked, earning a swipe from Richard.

"As long as Grace is happy, that's all I care about," Warwick declared. He had promised his beloved wife he would allow all his children to marry for love and they had, all except for Grace, who had now accepted Percy's proposal, and Arthur who was still too young.

"Indeed," More agreed. "As long as Grace is happy."

"There are other things to worry about, Thomas, particularly the rebels amassing in Yorkshire." Their happy conversation took a grim turn, a contemplative expression on both men's faces.

"I worry for Grace's safety when all hell break's loose. I don't doubt Percy's never-ending protection of her, just that the rebels may be more than he can handle."

"You think it will come to that? An uprising?" Thomas questioned. He wouldn't doubt Warwick's assumption as he had defied the king by refusing to speak on the matter of the oath. He just hadn't thought the rebels would form a large enough group to actually form a rebellion.

"We must prepare for the worse. The north have always been tied more firmly to their Catholic beliefs, more so than those in London who feel the full effect of his majesty's reformation." Like More, Warwick still believed in the Catholic faith and though he had signed the oath, he still felt the ties of an allegiance to the pope of Rome who was God's vicar on Earth. The rest of his family leaned more toward the religious reformation, though they blanched at Cromwell's policies.

"Then we must prepare for an uprising and pray the king will only realize his mistakes in letting Cromwell handle his reformation," More spoke for only the threat of the king's anger and his potential tyranny against the rebels concerned him.

Hampton Court Palace 22 June 1536

Henry was alone in his chambers, the shades shut tight to block out the light from entering his domain. The fireplace, which was blazing even in the middle of June, was the only source of light in the room and highlighted the contours of his face as he drank heavily from a goblet of French wine. He had chosen something other than English ale to drown his sorrows in, glaring at the silver cross More had given him all those years ago.

"Tell me God, is this how you punish me? Or am I being punished because of my own choices?" Silence, complete silence filled his ears. Henry burst up from his seat, knocking his chair back on the floor as he began to pace around his chambers. His eyes were bloodshot, his appearance unkept, and his hand unsteady as he placed the goblet back down with a thump on the table. It tipped over, falling to the floor as its contents leaked from its container.

Henry paid it no heed, kneeling before the cross as he pleaded to God. "God, what have I done? I abandoned Catherine, I cast off Anne, and now Grace…My daughters view me as a monster. Mary thinks I killed her mother and Elizabeth…Elizabeth is frightened of me. What can I do God to atone for my sins? Tell me!" he yelled like a madman, his eyes glistening with tears as the weight of his mistakes came crashing down on him. He had buried them deep inside until now, all his burdens rushing around him like a tidal wave and he was drowning, desperately trying to swim as the water started to suffocate him.

Hunsdon House 23 June 1536

As the daughter of a king, Mary had been given her own residence at Hunsdon along with Elizabeth. However, the house was mainly Mary's property as her sister would reside with her mother and stepfather at Warwick Castle along with the other Warwick properties. In addition to Hunsdon, Mary had been granted her own household to attend on her. Her ladies now included Anne Morgan, Mrs. Finche, Frances Jerningham, and Elizabeth Sydney while her chamberers and gentlemen ushers were Cecil Barnes, Lucretia the Tumbler, Richard Wilbraham, Robert Chichester, Sir Richard Baldwin Walter Bridges, and Thomas Burrows. She now had the retinue of a highborn lady instead of the status of a simple bastard of the king. Elizabeth had received the same honors, the sisters now seemingly equals under the law as the illegitimate children of the king.

And though Mary was pleased with her new home, she couldn't help but feel slightly alone as she stared up at the tapestry covered walls and the new strangers that were to attend on her. She had arrived at Hunsdon that morning, her time at court having made her wish to retreat, while Grace and Percy traveled with Elizabeth back to Warwick Castle before continuing on to Wressle Castle. Mary had been informed of Grace's impending marriage and she was gladdened that Grace had finally found happiness in her life. Yet, the shadow of her father still lingered in the air. How would the king react when he realized his precious Grace was married? How would he feel when he discovered Anne and Richard had consummated their marriage, and later Grace and Percy? These questions swirled around in Mary's head for she was sure her father would exert his anger on them all sooner or later.

Yorkshire 8 July 1536

Forces were gathering in Yorkshire against the dissolution of the monasteries, mostly common men who believed Mr. Cromwell should be replaced and that the new reforms failed to represent all seven sacraments as well as forbade kneeling before religious images and offerings. Robert Aske had been elected captain of their forces and now along with Robert Constable and a few others who had been elected leaders.

"What's your name, lad?" Aske questioned as a young man, no older than 16, stepped forward to register for their cause.

"Charlie, sir. Charlie Raw." Charlie was not hesitant as he spoke, Aske's eyes running over his strong features. He had a birthmark on the side of his face, smiling as he remarked to himself that many believed birthmarks were where one had been kissed by angels. Surely this boy had been blessed by God.

"Trade?" Aske asked.

"Shepherd." Aske grimaced slightly before the boy could notice. Many of these men were shepherds and farmers, no military training whatsoever.

"Do you know what we're about, Charlie?" Aske was concerned that the boy knew not the true understanding of their cause, that he wished to spill blood for vengeance rather than protesting the reformation.

"Yes, Captain Aske," Charlie replied clearly, his young eyes unwavering as they connected with Aske's.

"We're not rebels. We're pilgrims, and we have a pilgrimage to go on," Aske stated. "If you want to join us, then you shall swear to be true to almighty God, to Christ's Catholic Church, to our sovereign lord, the king and to the commons of this realm, so help you God." Charlie nodded his head, placing his hand on the bible that had been placed before him and making the sign of the cross across his chest.

"I do swear," Charlie declared resolutely.

"Wear this badge." Aske gave him a patch with the symbol of their cause sewn into the fabric. "It shows the Five Wounds of Christ to prove that the commons will fight in Christ's cause." He hoped Charlie fully understood the meaning of their mission, that they were fighting for Christ and for peace in the realm.

"Yes, captain," Charlie replied.

"God bless you, Charlie," Aske said, smiling at the boy in a fatherly manner.

"Sir." Charlie moved on to make way for the next man, the numbers adding on to the pilgrim's cause. He dearly hoped they would be able to make an impact on the realm, that their mission would be fulfilled and that his majesty would rethink the man chosen as his secretary.

Hampton Court
"Mr. Secretary Cromwell," a chamberlain announced, Cromwell walking shakily forward to stand in front of the king. All eyes were on the king's secretary as he was officially given the title of Lord Privy Seal and the title of baron bestowed upon his being.

Henry wore an outfit of black and gold, his dark blue eyes staring intently at his secretary. He rose from his throne, waving his hand. "Kneel," he ordered, Cromwell obeying his master as Henry clutched a sword from his page in order to perform the ceremony.

Henry placed the sword on either shoulder, bestowing him with his new titles. "Arise, Sir Thomas Cromwell, Lord Privy Seal and from this day forward, Baron Cromwell of Wimbledon." His voice was ever commanding as he spoke, his eyes masking a hint of hesitance. He hoped he was making the right decision, that Cromwell would not fail him. He placed his trust in the man despite the warnings.

"Majesty." Henry turned his back on his new Lord Privy Seal, Cromwell bowing slightly as the monarch returned to his throne. Suffolk was at the king's side, an evident look of disgust on his face at Cromwell's elevation. The corner of Cromwell's mouth rose in a smirk, boasting to Suffolk who had disagreed with his new rank. He turned on his heel, striding away with a burst of confidence in his step. As the courtiers bowed to him, he couldn't help but feel irreplaceable and with the king's trust, he would be unstoppable.

A/N: Comments?