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

A/N: Hello everyone! Decided to write this chapter quick so you guys could have an Easter surprise! Hello to all my new favs/followers: HermioneandMarcus.

Ch. 10

O, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror.

~ William Shakespeare

"I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt; I am lean with seeing others eat - O that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone; then thou should'st see how fat I would be! But must thou sit and I stand? Come down, with a vengeance!"

Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus

Greenwich Palace 27 December 1536

Nighttime had fallen, drawing a dark shade across England that acted as a cover for Mary and Grace as they made their way to mass. There was a hidden reason for their secrecy, both women drawing their cloaks closer to their bodies to shield themselves from the bitter cold. It was late, much too late for ladies of the nobility and royal blood to be out. But they had a mission for Mary wished to speak to Robert Aske in privacy.

The snow crunched under the women's feet as they made their way to chapel, the moon providing light of their path as they hurried along to escape the bitterness of the outside. Grace kept checking behind them, making sure no one was following as they headed towards the leader of the Pilgrimage of Grace. They did not need to be under suspicion for Mary only wished to meet this fearless man who stood fast for the Catholic faith.

Entering the chapel, the women quietly ascended up the aisle towards Aske who was knelt in prayer before the holy cross. "Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, Amen," he spoke, making the sign of the cross over his chest. He heard the light tapping of feet against the tiled floor, turning slowly and spotting Grace as she lowered her hood to reveal herself.

Aske nodded to Grace, awaiting her words. "Mr. Aske, I have someone with me who would like to meet you very much." Aske cast a curious look at the woman behind the Duchess of Gloucester, mesmerized as he was greeted with the sight of the king's eldest daughter.

"Lady Mary," Aske murmured, rising to his feet and bowing to her with as much respect that was due to her as the daughter of the king and Catherine of Aragon. He knelt before her, taking her hand and kissing it in reverence. He was looking at her with such adoration, hoping the king would one restore her to her rightful place as heir to the throne.

"I'm sorry to disturb your prayers. Grace told me we might find you here. I often come here to pray as well," Mary relayed to Aske, casting him a look of awe in return.

"Not at all, since you are always a part of them. And Lady Grace as well. I pray for your father's soul and that he shall listen to our pleas," Aske spoke, the women nodding at his declaration. They both knew Aske only wished to please the king, but he was loyal to God first just as More was.

Aske rose to his feet, Mary sparing him a gentle squeeze of the hand as she looked upon the man with kind eyes. "I come only to wish you well, Mr. Aske. For I know you are here upon God's work."

"I hope all was well between you and the king as you spoke in private," Grace said. She had been worried about what had transpired between closed doors, knowing Aske would tell her of such things, perhaps when Mary was not around.

"I trust the King's Majesty will grant you and your people all their desires," Mary added, a hopeful look in her pale blue eyes.

"I have every hope now, as i have ever hoped one day you, will succeed as Queen of England, for the better maintaining of our faith." Mary was filled with instant pride at his words. Hearing such an important man speak such things sparked inside her the hope that one day, her father would reinstate her to the succession. She wanted to make him proud as she had Mr. Aske and her people. "Lady, you must know, how beloved you are to the people, as was your mother before you. God rest her soul." For a moment, Mary was reminded of the love England had for her mother and now that love had been passed on to her.

Mary reached inside her cloak, drawing the attention of Aske who was confused. Grace smiled softly at the action, knowing Mary would surprise Aske. Mary reached forward, placing a single diamond in Mr. Aske's hands. She had wanted to bestow a gift upon this gracious man. "Remember me by this. May God bless and keep you, Master Aske." She went to depart the chapel, giving Grace and Aske some privacy that she knew they both needed, Aske watched her go silently, a small grin on his features for meeting the beloved princess.

"I shall cherish this gift forever, Lady Grace," Aske muttered to Grace as he turned his attention to her, placing the diamond safely in his pocket so as not to lose it.

"I am sure I will find it next to your heart when you are buried, Mr. Aske," Grace relayed, Aske nodding for she had taken the words from his mouth. "I wanted to ask you what had transpired between you and the king. I was wary of him. I know how his temper works."

"He had no temper at all, my lady. He was amiable as could be, explaining how he had been misinformed about our pilgrimage. He has read my petition and stated that the love of his people were far more important than any riches," Aske revealed, his loyalty blinding the king's true notions. Grace was not so easily fooled, biting her lip as she shook her head.

"Are you sure he was truthful in all he said?" Grace asked, doubting Henry's words. She was wary, she had to be now that she was back at court.

"The pardon will be granted for all of the north, there will be free election to a Parliament held at York, and his majesty has decided to travel to York as well to show his great love for us and to have the new queen crowned. He was truthful in everything he said, Lady Grace, for I always trust the king's words, especially if they were delivered from his own mouth directly to me," Aske explained. The king's word was most sacred to him, but Grace was afraid she had to change his mind, prove to him the king's true nature.

"Promises can be broken, Mr. Aske. I learned that the hard way, but I still managed to stay alive. I stayed in his good graces, but I broke his trust by leaving. And he broke his by lying to me. Don't make the same mistake I did," Grace spoke, her green hues filled with such pain that Mr. Aske started to rethink the king's statement to him.

"But he… he gave me a gift. Why would he do such a thing?" Aske questioned in exasperation.

"He wants you to think you have his favor. It's a game, Mr. Aske. He has your trust and then he stabs you in the back," Grace muttered darkly, Aske's face falling at her declaration. "Keep your guard up Mr. Aske, for I fear this is not yet over."

29 December 1536

More had been summoned to the king's chambers, not knowing whether Henry would unleash his fury on him for Grace's behavior or if he would ask his opinion on what to do in regard to Cromwell's continuous actions against the rebellion's leader. He was wary nonetheless, eyeing the king when he entered his private chambers. Henry's dark orbs stared at his friend with a look of suspicion, his fingers tapping the table impatiently as he waited for a servant to refill his wine cup. The poor lad raced to fulfill his master's need, scurrying back into the corner as Henry greedily sipped down the contents of his chalice.

"Thomas are you enjoying your time at court?" the king questioned, a sarcastic note in his voice at he stared at the man he once trusted the most in the world. Now, he wasn't so sure, his eyes lazily scanning More' features as if looking for some kind of fault in the man that would deter him from trusting him further.

"Majesty, I have always looked forward to spending Christmas at court. I have had many of my happiest memories at Christmastide in your presence," Thomas relayed sincerely, though Henry scoffed at More's words.

"You think me a fool, Thomas? You think I am oblivious to what is occurring in my own court?" Henry questioned, signaling to the servant once more for another chalice of wine. Thomas knew exactly what was happening, the king using wine to settle his nerves, but it only loosened his tongue. And when the lion spoke his mind, few could control him.

"Majesty, you could never be a fool. You know that I, of all your subjects, would never speak such of you," Thomas relayed. "As to your courtiers, I cannot control them."

"You would control your niece," Henry spoke lowly, almost a whisper to More's ears. Henry's eyes became an unfathomable shade of black, More edging slowly to the king.

"You of all people know Grace cannot be controlled. And if anyone tried to, would you be angered by their actions or would you accept them?" More questioned. He already knew the answer, Henry never choosing to quell her fire. He drained his cup again, the drunkenness in his eyes shining.

Henry let out a hearty chuckle, hinting at his amusement. "Perhaps you are right, Thomas. It would be a shame to remove her fierceness. I admire that most about her."

"And what do you admire most about the queen, majesty? You must be quite pleased with her behavior, having arranged the Lady Elizabeth's visit to court," More spoke. "She is a compliment to your majesty."

"Yes, she is a delight to the court," Henry responded, though he seemed disinterested. "Though I worry she cannot bear children." A disappointed look graced his features, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lip tightened at the thought.

"Majesty, it is most normal for women to lose their first child as their body is not used to the feeling. You must remember that Catherine lost your first child, and you were blessed with a son the next year." It was a painful reminder, but it needed to be said. The king needed to give Jane another chance as he had given both Catherine and Anne.

"And what if I have no more children, Thomas? What am I to do?" Henry questioned, the question which he feared most plaguing his thoughts most nights.

"Your majesty knows that I am blessed to have a son, but it is my daughters that have proved themselves to be a match for any man. Margaret is accredited for her fluency in Greek and Latin. You must know that our dear Erasmus applauded her for that. We must make the notion more prominent that daughters can have the same education as sons, majesty." More was almost pleading in his words, but Henry knew better than that. Thomas would never lecture him but would always inform. "After all, Mary has proved herself more than capable and Elizabeth will inherit her thirst for knowledge. If your daughters are all you have, why bar them from succeeding you?" More questioned further, frustration edging its way into his voice.

Henry was taken aback by his suggestion, but as he himself had just said he doubted the queen's fertility, perhaps it was to be expected. "You think I should place my daughters back in the line of succession?" He searched More's face frantically, as if his pinion was the only that mattered. Not Cromwell, not Rich, not even Brandon. Only More could soothe him now.

And More answered him in the only way he knew how. "Only if your majesty's conscience is clear and if it is right in your heart."

1 January 1537

It was New Years day, the king's daughters and Grace enjoying their daily walk in the gardens. Though the air was crisp, the wind had abated and given the girls a reason to escape the frigid castle. It wasn't just the confines of the castle but the cold, hard stares of the courtiers that affected them the most. But they were not the only ones who sought solace in the gardens for Jane had the same idea. Unfortunately, her brother had interrupted her peace.

Sitting next to her on a bench near the fountain, Edward Seymour was berating his poor sister. Recently telling her that their father had died, Jane had been upset at the secret, but was again reminded of her duty as queen. "You need to focus on giving the king an heir. Not on some silly girl who used to be legitimate," Edward whispered angrily at his sister, Jane visibly upset with his words as she wrung her fingers around the furs that covered her hands.

Jane frowned deeply, the lines making her young face appear a decade older. "She's not just some silly girl. She was the Princess of Wales before the Lady Elizabeth was born, brother. It is not fair to the lady Mary that she is now an equal with his bastard." Neither realized that Grace and Mary were behind the hedges behind them, Grace fuming as she listened to the insult.

"Look at me!" Edward grasped his sister tightly, her ladies eyeing him but not budging from their spots on the other side of the fountain as the pair talked in private. "You need to get these thoughts out of your head. Both Lady Anne and Lady Grace are pregnant. Do you know how that reflects on us? You look like you're barren while the Kings previous whores are fertile. He could set you aside Jane. It's been seven months. Who knows how much longer the king will wait?"

"It's not my fault I miscarried," Jane mumbled, small tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

"God is merciful. Perhaps it was a girl and he thought to spare you from the king's wrath. However, it is even more imperative that you become pregnant soon," Edward spoke harshly, not realizing their words were overheard.

"Grace, don't!" Mary whisper shouted, sending her little sister a worried look as her friend appeared to be on a war path. Grace went to walk around the corner to confront the leech, but Mary clutched her arm gently, begging her not to interfere.

"Really Mary? Edward Seymour is talking ill of both of you and his sister. It's disgusting. If the king knew he would receive a verbal lashing!" Grace exclaimed.

"Many courtiers talk of us that way. It makes no difference to me. They will all pay for their rumors later. God will punish them for their deeds," Mary muttered.

"You and your sister are both daughters of the king. You both should be in the line of succession, but your father is too proud to do such a thing right now. If she does not have a child, you will have to be recognized as your father's heir, Elizabeth second because you are older. You have many marriage proposals. The king will have to decide soon if he wishes to maintain these alliances," Grace explained, sure that with the incoming marriage proposals and the lack of a male child that a new act of succession would be passed.

"Just because you believe that does not mean the king will ever consider it an option," Mary answered, but she desperately wanted to believe her father would do such a thing.

"Then he needs to be made to. Come, I will not listen to them insult either of you any longer."

Grace made no acknowledgment of Jane as she walked straight past her as if she were invisible. She would not curtsy or recognize a woman who was deceitful, a woman who did not act like a queen. She didn't even flinch when Jane gasped at her behavior, instead holding her hand over her protruding stomach protectively and pulling Elizabeth along. Mary followed behind, her eyes held demurely to the ground. Grace would rub it in Janes face that she was with child and she was not. That she was a powerful woman while Jane was not.

It didn't help that the other courtiers all bowed and curtsied deeply to Grace as she passed, calling out "my lady," "your grace," or "Lady Gloucester" to her. They were all showing her the respect due to a queen, not a duchess. And the courtiers seems to be genuine instead of forced as they greeted her out of formality. It made Jane want to scream at the blatant insult she was witnessing.

But Edward held her back, seeing the display as an opportunity to cause an outburst from Jane. Many could say Grace was too far away to have seen the queen, that it was a mere mistake and if Jane reacted, she would more likely be berated instead of supported by the king. He didn't want another Anne who would lash out at the slightest thing, though most of the time Anne had reason to.

"Don't make a move and don't say anything. We don't need you making a spectacle." Edward plastered a fake smile on his face, acting as if he saw nothing as his hand squeezed his sisters arm tightly when she went to walk away. "I said don't move."

"You're hurting me," Jane replied, trying to pull her arm from her brother's grasp.

"Then listen to me and act like nothing happened." Jane weighed her options: She could ignore her brother and struggle against him, causing rumors to spread in the court, or she could act as if it didn't bother her, act as Catherine had done. But she didn't want to be like the king's late wife, though she respected her. She wanted to scream, stomp her feet, lash at her brother who continuously tried to control as most of her family did. She was trapped in her glass cage and there was nothing she could do.

3 January 1537

Grace knew she shouldn't have approached the king, knew she shouldn't have requested an audience with him, but she felt as if she needed to defend Mary and Elizabeth after what she had heard in the gardens a few days before. The king needed to know the true behavior of his brother-in-law, but Grace was unsure of what his reaction to her would be. Remembering the way he had stared at her in the church made her shudder, but she cast the feeling aside as she entered the king's receiving chamber, the page announcing her presence and shutting the door behind her as the room was enveloped in silence.

Grace was met with the sight of the king's back, watching as one hand tightened at his waist, the other bringing a chalice of wine to his lips. Grace bit her lip nervously, her hands protectively encasing her pregnant belly as she waited for the king to turn around and face her. He was tense, that much was obvious, and when he finally turned around, she knew he had been affected by her abrupt arrival. His dark eyes scanned her blatantly and Grace, not abashed by his behavior, met his gaze defensively as she mustered a small curtsy out of decorum. Henry had been quite surprised at her arrival, expecting not see her again while she was at court and now that he had her standing in front of him, a hurricane of anger, joy, and confusion entered his bloodstream. She still had the same effect over him, and it drove him mad.

"Grace," Henry muttered, his voice deep as he addressed her. "Why are you here?" he questioned. He maintained his distance from her, his hands gripping the chair he stood next to as if it was a shield against her presence. He was threatening in a way, the animalistic expression in his eyes making Grace's blood run cold.

"I wanted to talk about Mary and Elizabeth with you, majesty," Grace responded, her voice steady and even. She would not show him how nervous she was, how it frightened and excited her the way he was acting.

"You've come to talk about by daughters after all I have heard about you and your participation in the rebellion? Quite daring of you to approach me at all," Henry replied, Grace's heart dropping to her stomach. He had her cornered now and he knew it, Grace breaking eye contact and her lips pursing in a thin line.

"I did not participate," Grace simply stated, standing her ground. It was then that Henry pounced on her, Grace barely having enough time to register his quick movements towards her as he held her arms firmly, but gently in his hands. She could see the paranoia in his eyes, what her uncle and father had warned her about.

"Don't lie to me, Grace…You of all people…Do not lie to me," Henry spoke imploringly. Grace was at a loss of words for a moment, noting the beseeching tone of his voice and the way his eyes searched hers urgently for an answer.

"I would not lie to you, majesty," Grace muttered softly, lowering her eyes and biting her lip again. "I agreed with their grievances and joined them out of support, but I did not call for arms against you. I did not gather forces for their cause."

"But you stood with them." Henry released her suddenly as if she was a hot fire poker, pacing around the table as he tried to control his rage.

"Majesty," Grace urged, trying to make him understand her actions. The king continued to shake his head, muttering under his breath about disloyalty and betrayal. "Henry…" she uttered, the king halting in his steps and his head jerking in her direction. She had caught his attention now and she would not lose it. "These men are not rebels. They are your loyal subjects, the jewels of your realm. All they wish for is that the monasteries be restored. They were loyal to your father and they were loyal to you. You cannot expect an entire mass of people to abandon the doctrines they have been raised on, some of them the same you embody in the Church of England. You cannot expect them to devote themselves to a new church when they followed his Holiness under your father. You cannot force them."

The king was fuming, outraged that Grace would speak against him and out of turn. He wouldn't admit that a jolt of gladness burst through his body at the sound of his name, hiding it with contempt instead. "They are my subjects and as I am anointed by God, they should follow my command! Cromwell said they would be glad to be free from the suppression and the corruption of the Catholic Church. "

"And Cromwell is always right? Cromwell has the solution to everything you desire of him? Wasn't it his head on a spike the rebels wanted?" Grace retorted. Henry's eyes narrowed at her statement, not because he disagreed with her, but because she was right. Cromwell was not the answer to his problems. He seemed to be causing them left and right.

Henry let out a frustrated sigh, the stress of the past three months catching up to him. He bore his weight on his hands as he leaned against the mantel above the fireplace, watching the flickering of the flames as they consumed the wood within it. Grace approached him, slowly but loud enough for him to hear her footsteps. "Nevermind Cromwell. I wanted to discuss Mary And Elizabeth with you. Edward Seymour was speaking ill of them in the gardens a few days ago. It's upsetting to me that your brother-in-law speaks so lowly of your daughters." Henry's head shot up at the accusation, a smart comment at the end of his tongue, but he stopped when he noticed the way Grace's eyes began to water. She was serious about her comment, not trying to fabricate some lie.

"I will speak to him about his indiscretion," Henry spoke, his voice solemn as he took in Grace's crying.

"They are your daughters. No one should be allowed to speak about them like that," Grace blubbered. Henry approached her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders.

"And I can promise you no one else will," Henry assured. He wanted to say more wanted to hold her in his arms, but he wouldn't push her in her condition. He could be patient. Grace nodded her head, wiping the tears from her face as she cursed herself for momentarily falling apart. She could blame it on the fact that she cried at the littlest things during pregnancy or on the idea that she thought the king didn't care about his daughters. But in the end, Grace knew the king cared for his daughters and that Edward Seymour would be on the sharp end of a sword the next time he came in contact with the king.

Pontefract Castle 8 January 1537

Aske had returned to the headquarters of the rebellion, thinking the good news he brought would satisfy his men, but he was wrong. John Constable was in great disagreement with him, many of the men on his side as they heard Aske's words with skepticism. "I tell you frankly, the King is a good and gracious lord who has granted us as far as he may, all our desires and petitions. It's true. I heard it from his own mouth that he intends to hold a free and fair parliament in York and have the queen crowned there," Aske explained with great detail, but the men only answered him with grunts of doubt.

"Promises, Mr. Aske, just more promises," Constable stated.

"No, not just promises. Lord Suffolk is sworn to come here to bring both great authority, the King's seal and thus he told me many comfortable answers," Aske continued with authority.

Darcy was next to speak, having heard of the north's great uncertainty of the king and his advisors, particularly Cromwell and Rich. "I have to tell you, Mr. Aske, though it grieves me to do so, that since you have been away, there have been many rumors and a widespread mistrust of the King and his council."

"Aye. The Northern lands are open monastery again and this time we won't be betrayed." Aske's eyes landed on an unknown man, one he hadn't spoken to directly but who had joined their cause and earned the trust of the men.

Aske looked to Constable with a pleading expression, desperate to get these men to understand all he had discussed with the king and Suffolk. "Tell them to believe me, John. Tell them to wait for the coming of Lord Suffolk, for another rising now risks everything." If these men rose against the king, all promises would most certainly be broken. Aske was blinded by his love of the king in Constable's eyes, determined to believe that the king was merciful as many had done before.

"Robert, there was a time when nothing was more sure than a promise of a prince, but now we think these promises nothing but a policy to blind the people and when we rise again, we will trust no promises." The king had once been revered for his dedication to the defense of the faith, but now with Cromwell at his side and the reformation occurring, many were beginning to be cautious of their shifty king if they had not already been. Once a true and steadfast leader, the people now feared he would turn against them for the lies whispered into his ears had more power than the words of his beloved subjects.

Aske gave Constable and the others a bewildered look, swallowing hard as he continued to defend himself and the king against this madness of another uprising. "I cannot believe this. If you will not trust the King, then will you at least trust me? Have I not guided you well so far? Have I not secured a pardon for all of us?"

"But have you secured the King's absolute promise to restore our monasteries?" Constable spoke, exaggerating the syllables of each word he uttered. They needed to be sure their religion would no longer be punished by Cromwell, that their churches would be safe from the corruption of heresy.

"His Grace promised me that all those matters would be discussed freely and openly in Parliament. I trust him. He offered me as much as true and honest and good man could desire of their sovereign," Aske answered.

"But you have no proof," Constable responded, his hand running through his hair in an exasperated manner. "And tell me, what did the Duchess of Gloucester advise you to do? Did she tell you to trust the king? Does she agree with your undying loyalty to the king?" he questioned.

Aske faltered in his defense, remembering Grace's words of caution. "She…She has spoken to be in the same way you have. She does not believe the king's promised to be true and asked be to be wary of him as well as Cromwell."

"Then that is all the proof I need that the king breaks his promises, for if one who used to be so close the king advises caution, it would be best to adhere her words." Constable went to pass Aske, making his departure evident as men started to follow him from the chamber.

"Where are you going?" Aske questioned.

"Marching on Carlisle," Constable stated, not faltering a step as he led the men towards another rebellion.

"John, I plead with you, for the love of God, not to put this agreement in jeopardy by false actions and rush judgements!" Aske exclaimed, but it was too late. Constable would listen to him no further.

Darcy and Ellerker had remained behind, casting Aske a sympathetic look. "Their minds are already made up, Mr. Aske. Even before you returned," Ellerker declared.

Suddenly, an angry Constable marched back into the room, seemingly explaining himself to his closest companion. "There is no agreement just base and empty promises. The King will not be moved by words but by actions. We shall do now, what we should have done before. Gather the men." It was done. There was nothing Aske could do but watch as the North started another uprising and ruined their chances of peace with the king.

A/N: Comments?