Here it is guys final chapter, and instead of putting a song, I will but I put more flashbacks from Treason By Parentage, Part I, to Anne's past loss of baby to compare with Joan Moore's loss of her own child and how she said almost the same haunting words to the father now spoken to the son. Also! The quotes are there for a reason, and yes the end is traumatizing so I am warning you if you do not go along with traumatic and dramatic fics, then this is not one for you lovers! Enough, read and enjoy.

This was very difficult to write as Thomas More, but this was one of the hardest part, I was not a fan don't think I was, so dealing into anne's head and to henry's was the most difficult as with the situation, more soul searching inside them and in their heads it is like you turn into them, you become them! Honestly guys you do. So hard, also doing more research and re edit to acquire more the dramatic and tragic melodramatic and suspense effect you want to create.

Enjoy

R/R

Chapter #30: Never shall we die.

"Never shall we die …" –Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. (Pirate's song to the Brethren Court)

--

From the water of the wells, a squabbling child that lay dormant on her father's soothing voice woke up when she heard the haunting calling of her name "Anne …Anne."

She was here … she was near … it was death. In all its aspect death had foresaw her fate and now she had come for her soul. Anna Maria turned to her small brother George who was whimpering behind a corner, she must've taken her hand for later she found herself running in full desperation to get away from the King's soldiers.

There was a cruel voice behind that never ceased to haunt her endless nights, it was his voice that made her and George cry, as one soldier approached her and tore her from her brother's side. George was crying and yelled "sister" so many times, but she could not come to his rescue anymore.

It was game over; there would be no gentle soul of any man or woman that could save her now. For the first time since she was robbed of her mother, she was utterly alone.

1536, March 1st.

Greenwich Palace.

Queen's Bedchamber:

Anne Boleyn, England's second anointed Queen to its present monarch owed all of her jewels and family's fortunes to the tiny life she held in her womb. As she folded her arms, she sighed deeply and closed her eyes imagining when had been the last time when she had a son. Ah! There it was! Arthur, his name was Harry Arthur Tudor of Wales, in honor of His Majesty's father. What a beautiful boy he was.

"He had ten clean toes, white; he did not cry when he was away mama" The Bishop of Durham's prudence had somewhat consoled Anne during her grief at her son's shocking death. He was supposed to have taken care off, but something happened, she was sure something happened and there was somebody in that Household who plotted to have her and Henry's offspring murdered because of the fact that a son would supplant that wench's daughter!

Oh how she hated that bastard. She was nothing more than a bastard, that she was sure. Ha! Thomas More delighted himself in taking that "poor soul" as he called her, to his House and flaunt her all around as England's "most honored Lady".

That had not angered Anne. No, she could never had been angered at her real father in law for taking an orphan in, it was in his nature to take pathetic life forms and nurture them until they grow up and free to roam the world on their own. But Mary, she would never free. Anne had made sure of that.

She had made the girl an offer which she couldn't refuse, but she did.

Out of two wives, Anne was proven to be the sanest in her first years as Queen. Isabella was said to be so much like her mother, Joanne the Mad –Katherine's ill-fated sister. Like her father she wore a proud arrogance that she was not ashamed to display in her subjects, even Katherine had agreed at some point, that if she could not be helped it was best she be put away for her son's safety. But not by Anne! Oh the Old Woman had long fought to have their marriage delayed.

Prudence was the badge under which Katherine had managed to foil the entire world that she had a virgin, free of sin and touch of man, or any other compromise; attaching her heart only to Arthur and to the promise that she would give him a son. She had succeeded. Anne could not help but feel little jealous that another of her old rival had succeeded in what she could not –to bring England a healthy male heir!

She had seen when Henry was on his coronation. He looked so grand, and big. Even for a seven year old boy he still inspired true bravery, courage and all the traits that had been so popular in medieval sonnets. He had been his Country's ray of hope, and born on an age of tumult, he did not seem to care and maybe that is why he managed to take hold on the throne for so long. Because he never focused on the past, he always focused ahead. That was why he was so grand, but it was only a dream in which they were living.

None of what she had was real, or had real possession; all of what she had was borrowed, and had been taken from other through their blood and betrayal; just as they had done with other poor souls in the past. They were no different from what the people that were executed.
Too many they were just seen as another force of nature, replacing one vile institution for theirs.

Like an elderly man with a youthful bride, he had doted on her, heaping costly presents and jewels into her ambitious and willing hands, eager to propitiate her slightest whim or fancy. Anne had inspired the inherent kindness over his ruthless female figures that had ruled him in the past. He had wanted to please her and he did. Surrounding her with every gift and want, she felt especial, loved and unique from all the years of absent love from her father, and a mother that had never been present even when she lived.

No young woman could have been more obliging to his love … the rest wanted only opportunity, and when he would tire, they would demand their honor back with fructuous marriages and titles bestowed on their families.

"She is no more different than her sister, two Boleyn whores!"

"I hear she has a mole and a sixth finger, she speaks to the devil they say. How else could you explain that God took our Prince from his cradle? She is Satan's servant I tell you … heed my words!" Murmurs of unease began to stir the Country in uproar as they now cried "witch!" to her door.

They –in England, from poor to rich- had all come together under the assertion that Anne Boleyn must be removed.

"Take away their freedom and they will applaud, take their faith and promise them bread and water, and they will applaud even more … give them death and they will love you for it! But, give them pain, take away their lands and force them down to love while their stomachs lurch for food –they will make you pay the price.
Not even the strongest army in the world will be enough to stop them. If they claim for blood they will have it."

Anne's old Teacher, the Archduchess Margaret in Malines had told her when on her first days of arrival when she asked her what made a Monarch be loved by its people.

The Queen of England was a natural target for many slanders, many of which were not true, but she learned to deal with the foul mouth through out the years before coming to England. Her sister had always said "people will always talk to you Anne, just pretend it is all a nightmare that is how I get by through life ha, ha!" but how could she overhear the whispers, when they came from her own Ladies, and people she had once trusted with her life that would never betray her.

Another incident came to mind as she dismissed her Ladies, when they finished putting on her nightgown.

--

1532 8:00 AM

It was morning; half of the Court was there. The interior of the chapel glowed with happiness and rich silver and gold from chalices and crosses.

Thomas Moore who had a recent squabble with the Princess Dowager, over God knows what was seated next to his 'wife' and in between Anne and Henry. He was somewhat pleased for a change to see His Majesty –the Queen. Anne guessed he and Katherine had another fight, there was no other logical explanation for his humor today.

"Sweetheart" He said, taking her attention away from his father, she smiled at him, her attention was now shifted to Friar Peto who repeated the sermon twice to the Church goers. He had briefly cut a glance at Moore; but More chose to ignore it and focused his stare at the floor.

Anne felt uneasy at this.

"Thomas" Anne's stomach lurched as she caught some of the couple's heated argument. This was no place and time for marital discussion, but her curiosity, ever a trait of Anne's, got the best of her.

"Alice this is not the time."

"I saw you leaving Warham's side; you said to him you were to go to our House. You were not there that night. Tell me … Husband where were you?" Anne felt some sympathy for this woman. Having to discover that your perfect husband is not perfect must feel like a tremendous blow to your heart.

The Lady Alice always seemed like a woman who knew when to contain her emotions, but it seemed that today if she was not careful, or, if Thomas Moore was not carefully by Anne's standards they could easily ruin their attempts at having a peaceful day.

"The night was … long."

"Long? You did not come until nearly four in the morning, and not next day or next week, but in two weeks. I did not ask because you sent me so many letters that you were residing with the King discussing his Matter. All those nights Thomas … did you plan to continue insulting my intelligence … Husband?"

"Excuse me woman if I choose not to tell you my whereabouts … It's going to get worse Alice, I am sorry; I never meant you no harm."

Alice as her husband remained silent during the remainder of Mass. None of them turned to look at their partner's faces which were both twisted in anger and pain caused by each other's venom. Anne cast a glance to her husband who seemed oblivious to what was going one between his father and his wife. His anger as Katherine's hatred and love for Thomas was tearing up his marriage with Alice.

But she did not want to intervene in something that was not hers to solve. By the little time she had spent with this man, she had learned that Moore was a man not to be optimistic about when it came to marriage. The man was plagued with inner demons, and part of this plague had resulted from his liaison with Katherine.

He thought he could easily let go of Katherine? He was wrong, dead wrong and very naïve to think that Katherine would have given up so easily on something that brought her so much passion to her life.

The mass was about to end. Father Peto turned his glance again to More, somehow knowing that Moore would agree on what he had left to preach.

"On this Holy day" Said Father Peto breaking the silence, and leaning forward with his hands clutching the lectern. "we are obliged to say that some of Your Majesty's preachers are too much like those of Ahab's days, in whose mouth was found a false and lying spirit! Theirs is a gospel of Sin and of the vilest lies, not afraid to tell of license and libertine ways monarchs can rid themselves of their faith, which no King in Christendom should dare even to contemplate! For theirs are mouths that will burn in the fires of hell!"

Murmurs of unease began to claim the Courtiers. If the Friar continued, all of the Church's worshippers could be forced out in uproar against him. Henry's eyes however; were nothing like his servants, his were of malice and calculating hatred, only soothed by Anne's hand on top of his as it to calm the beast inside him.

Peto's voice rose with even more fanaticism, glory and truth in his words he continued, "I beseech Your Grace to take heed, not to pursue the course you seem to be taking, or else you will follow Ahab! Who married that whore Jezebel, and surely incur his unhappy end, that dogs will lick your blood as they licked his, which God avert and forbid!"

This was the last straw needed to cause uproar. Courtiers and part of the clergy leapt angrily to their feet to shout the friar down. Foul language was being spoken in the House of God. The Friar kept screaming of the King's wrongful path when he shot Moore another glance before being taken down by Courtiers and clergy alike.

Thomas Cromwell stood in front of the beaten Friar, snarling with malice. "You will be sewn into a sack and thrown into the River Thames if you don't hold your damn tongue!"

Peto did not seem to care, he rebuked valiantly to Cromwell. "Make those threats to your Courtiers. As for us" He looked down to his feet and up again to other fellow Friars who had remained silent during the whole ordeal, "we take no account of those threats, since we know very well that the way to Heaven can be in any way possible. Ha!" and he was quickly taken away by the King's soldiers to a fate that just as he foresaw, would take him to heaven in any way possible.

Henry, her husband and lover turned abruptly as they pushed the Friar away, to stare at Moore, as if suspecting some treason or complicity in his part to the Friar's insults. But Moore passively as always, gave the King a passionless gaze and remained silent. The next he turned to was his wife, Alice Moore. But she too remained calm, yet unlike his mentor; it was not a calm state that rooted in passiveness, but rather in hatred.

Anne, minutes after they all left the chapel, left with her husband but not before casting a longing look to that angered and bitter woman –Alice. Why had she been so interest in looking down on her? Was she looking in sympathy to a woman who was unloved and beaten by her husband's revelation that he was growing tired of her … or, was she looking down on her future, a few years from now given whom she married?

--

She let one hand slid around her belly, slowly caressing her stomach as if telling her child to rejoice and be born safely so she too could be safe, and his elder sister.

Then she sat next to her bed, once again empty -and after praying for her safety -she wept.

1536, March 2nd.

Whitehall:

Nan and Madge were entertaining themselves by playing several rounds of cards, outside of their Queen's chambers. The Queen had retired to bed early; it was the fifth time this week. She and His Majesty were not of bright terms yet. Some of her ladies dared not to voice their thoughts, but it was less likely they were ever going to speak again if Anne's temper kept getting in the way.

At first Henry had shown a kind gesture to Anne that it had been his fault for his folly with Mistress Jane Seymour, who continued to be in Anne's service despite her protests she be thrown out –the King had denied it of course, his humor turning sour that she could make such a suggestion about somebody he intended to become his Future Mistress, if not more.

She had cried the first nights of the affair, putting her hands on her abdomen and taking sharp breaths of air to calm herself. Nan Seville –her right hand Lady had been there all night to console her, but she couldn't console herself. She had felt a mixture of dismay and horror when she had discovered the King and Jane Seymour kissing behind her back.

Two days after she had asked Henry so many times when he came to see how she was, "How could you've done this? Why did you have to do this? Why Henry …" Her anger began to turn into wails of helplessness as the King had embraced her, and she had –after a while- relented, burying her face in his shoulder as her tears kept coming, hot and seemingly hollow to his care.

As Nan picked another deck of cards, the door opened to reveal Mistress Seymour entering the Queen's outer chambers. She skirted them as she had done so with Anne before, prior to being discovered with the King.
Nan nodded to her in the same manner, she did not send any pleasantries or kind words to Jane. There was hardly anything to be spoken between them, they were both different and it was clear they were serving different Masters now.

Jane was her own Mistress; she had made that clear by the King's interest in her. She was special. No other Lady would hold the King's attentions for so long, unless she was ambitious. And Jane Seymour was no ordinary Lady or Mistress. She was no Mistress at all, that was certain; the King had every intention to make her his Mistress yet she refused his every advances, "just like Anne had" thought Nan as she surveyed the young Seymour girl.

Henry's initial devotion to Anne could not condone many of his guilty verdicts, it did not absolve Anne either from watching them and not doing anything, but then again one must ask himself what else could she have done that would not have endangered her life?

Henry was a malleable force of nature, that could go either way of the balance, pray tell that Henry would have never slaughtered those who were loyal to him, but the people still kept in him that he already punished an old member of his Council for speaking against his Authority as Head of the Church. Nobody could predict with one hundred percent accuracy what Henry could do next. Their Country was in the hands of a Monarch who was susceptible to everybody minus himself, what he really wanted -no one knew. But it was easy to predict what he no longer needed.

All his life he had been raised as the next potential King of England, he never had true friends to keep him company; his only friends were Margaret Beaufort and his grandfather Henry VII. The boy must have felt thrilled at knowing his old captors and source of his misery were no longer there to prevent him from having fun, and having ascended to the throne so young you could not expect a boy to take things seriously.

No matter how strict was the Household in which he was raised, he was still a child and as any at age seven, the last thing children need or think about is politics. They just want to have fun, have games, parties in this case banquets for themselves and others. All children want to be seen and heard, and when you are the King of England and seven years old, you want others to like you, you do not put yourself to meditate that they might be seeking your company because of the Crown you are wearing.

Katherine of Aragon always made sure she told Henry to be gentle to his servants, he always had and she did not need to tell him twice to show humility and prudence to his 'subjects'. On the first day, on a Tournament that was to be held in his honor; he called the Friar who had come to show his blessing to him and his mother earlier that day -and "paid" him a sum of 1000 pounds. "For your Goodwill, but I will see that it is use for the monasteries and for the Universities down in Rochester Friar Noir"

The King's mother had been so proud of her son, but she did not show it. And often Wriothlesley, such of others of his time thought that if the Princess Dowager had at least shown affection for her son's virtues, in response England would not have to be suffering for the sorrow of one Prince whose love was denied.

Nan sighed as Madge indulged on her to their game of cards. Honesty in Nan was something only used for convenience, much like her Mistress the Queen Anne Boleyn-Tudor; but recently with the events happening at their expense she thought that a little honesty now and then would help to settle their conscience.

It was quiet. It was never this quiet. There was always some activity, some dance, something that kept the Ladies of the Queen alive and enthusiastic than with the boredom many had to deal. Their Mistress was asleep that much they knew. But why had she slept so much? She had never slept so long before, not even when the King had his many mistresses flaunted in her face at a dinner table or in his Bed Chambers.

But it seemed that this time was different, just then as if all the women's thoughts were synchronized, they turned at Jane. Could this Mistress replace their current Mistress in the blink of an eye –like it was done before? Isabella, many of the ladies were young and hardly knew her. But some who did said that she was often like her mother, Joanne the Mad – the King's mother's sister and his Aunt. So sad and always exploding with self hatred, because of her husband's ongoing affairs behind his back, much like it was now being done with Anne.

Jane took the seat that Nan was formally occupying and was now opposite to Madge. The elder girl and cousin of Anne Boleyn had no personal quarrels with the Mistress Seymour. She had always been nice to the girl ever since she first came into service.

In a way, Madge had taken the girl under her wing and her protection. In public they were just Ladies in Anne Boleyn's Court, but in private, a bustling friendship had been developing between them. These past weeks their conversations were put on hold as Madge's cousin hatred for Jane was becoming more apparent, and the girls that had kept each other safe were now bound to speak only when in private and Nan was not watching.

But a game of cards … was no problem. No problem at all. What harm could a simple game cause to the lives of these two girls?

The past frailties of Madge had never gone into question at Court, and maybe because she was the Queen's cousin and no one was to speak ill of family, or maybe because her father still had some influence to cover up all the rumors of his daughter's affairs. As she watched Jane with her passive face, spread out the deck; she emptied her worries and began the play of the century with her new friend Seymour.

As the game continued, Madge noticed Nan who was next to the Queen's door. It had appeared like Nan heard something from the inside of Her Majesty's chamber, but she dismissed it as Jane called for her next move.

"Your turn" said Jane patiently.

Madge's turn was proven pointless. Jane was going to loose this one, like many times over and Madge did not want to hurt her feelings again. The young Lady-In-Waiting hid her deck and called it a tie. Her opponent was not satisfy and made her hand the cards over to her.

"Two Queens Madge. You win." Jane stated.

Nan went to pick up another deck of cards to shuffle them, until she stopped dead in her tracks. A piercing scream had erupted from the Queen's Bedchamber where she resided. There faces all turned to worry, Madge as Jane leapt to their feet, knocking over the table to tend to the Queen. Nan first arriving to the door, threw it open and what she found surprised not only her, but the rest of Anne's Ladies.

Madge put a hand near her mouth; the girl looked sick and about to throw up. Jane Seymour stared in horror at the Queen, and soon other Ladies that came in joined her. Nan's screams and Madge's joined in unison with those of the Queen.

There were screams echoing all through the halls of her Quarters. They were all scared and terrified, but no more than Anne herself as she cried in desperation, clutching her belly with one hand, and with the other dragging it underneath her stained nightdress.

"My Boy! My boy! … my boy!" Anne screamed as she held out her hand to Nan, stained in blood.

A large pool of scarlet blood was formed around her, staining not only her nightgown but the white linens and the floor beneath her bed. Her screams were reached from outside her Chambers; Nan grabbed Mistress Seymour with her strong grip and ordered her to go fetch Dr. Linacre quickly!

The main reason for Anne's cause of distress did not need to be told twice what to do; she stormed out from the room immediately to find the Physician.

Anne meanwhile kept sobbing and moaning, "No! No! … no." and while she writhed and twisted in pain, clutching her belly, hollow and devoid of any emotion, her tiny and only hope of survival, her unborn child, stained with the blood of her and his -was miscarried.

"no"

Henry woke up from his dream, drenched in cold sweat. He wasn't sure why he had particularly had that dream, but he was sure to find out soon.

It didn't take long for the news to reach him. His wife miscarried.

Henry hurried down the corridor, to his wife's Bedchamber, crutching his leg in pain. The enchanting little Queen that had before coming to him as noble, had rekindled for him the embers of his lost love for women and revitalized the blaze of passion for love that had been kept at bay for so many years in his reign because of one, his mother and second reason, his "concubine" who pretended for so many years to be his wife when she had sired a bastard child with another Prince in Denmark. Now she was nothing more than a nuisance, a source of humiliation, revealing all his dreams to be hollow just as she was.

The world was well rid of her … and if she lost … his Prince then out to the fire with her and her brother! Out to the fire already! -his conscience said, her sweetness had once been motive for pursuing but no longer, he had found now true beauty, and true modesty, on the likes of which his Queen had never had!

Anne had become a nuisance, a past fling that had brought him nothing but shame and civil disobedience throughout his Kingdom.

He had become enemies with his cousin, the Emperor, Charles. And with another Charles –he risked a friendship, for a woman. A vile woman, a witch who had set him up with her spells to make him fall in love. And it had worked, I fell for her, I even kissed her knees and feet as I begged her to be my Mistress … I went behind my daughter's back to turn her into a bastard!

My God what have I done? What have I done to my poor neglected daughter? I left her at the mercy of a witch and common fishwife, all she had to endure … because of me. I am as guilty as my mother; I caused her irremediable harm … how can I ever repay my guilt and show my face again?

--

Queen's Bedchamber:

Anne kept wailing, defeated and submitted by the physical and emotional pain of miscarrying her savior and Christ. The pool of scarlet blood that had spread earlier from beneath her linens and nightdress had been blackened by time, and she no longer shed any blood. Dr. Linacre told her to be at ease, that it was all over now, she should rest -it was best for all of them if she wanted her health back.

For Anne there was no more world without her Christ. Her last card to be drawn had been wasted. Now she was not any worth, only a Queen deprived of a healthy womb to give him sons –like he wanted. It was not fair that she should suffer.

This was not supposed to happen. Anne burst into tears as she heard the Doctor telling her there was nothing to be done.

Anne burst into hot tears of anger as she clutched the sheets of her bed, still wet from the blood of her unborn

It was curious how her fanaticism in the anti-papist faith had droved many to leave their hatred and anger of God, for their submissiveness to their newly crowned Queen. Yet, she knew that many –when Henry had set out all of them to swear the Oath- had not looked at her in Court with the same warmth and friendly gestures as they did when Isabella of Hapsburg was Queen.

They had all cheered for her when she married, been there for her when she bore their new Princess, and mourned alongside her –when their Prince was lost. What a sad day that had been for everybody. The King had not made a public announcement of the fact, yet the people knew by servants or other means that their Prince of Wales had been lost.

Anne had dreaded that day when it was announced that her son had died. She had been praying after the news that it was not true, but when reality stroke as they brought his little body –she went out to call his caretakers and demand an explanation for her son's death. They all begged had begged forgiveness afterwards. Mumblings with nervous faces as they humbly bowed to her, terrified and scared, they claimed it was an act of God and there were was no involvement in their part. The Prince had just died of natural causes. He had been one of the many victims of the sweating –or so they claimed. Anne did not long for their forgiveness or for Henry's approval to find whether or not he had died for natural causes. She had beat them all, almost to the point of death. –Swearing under her breath that her face would be the last thing they would see on this Earth.

After that -Anne had suffered another miscarriage. It had been during the middle of Bishop Fisher and Thomas Moore's imprisonment in the White Tower.

Henry had then acquired a grudging respect for her as an individual. He discovered that with the absence of his mother and father in his live, he could converse now more freely with Anne, almost as once he had confided in his beloved grandmother; Elizabeth Tudor.

He visited her at Whitehall or Greenwich, wherever she resided when he was usually absent, to converse, and comfort her –in any way possible. Approving the changes she had made on the Palaces of Whitehall and Greenwich and her capabilities to handle the religious turmoil in the Country.

Though the phrase "May Queen", been whispered still by some –those who had not dissented- in Court had given her some comfort; it transmuted into laughter and bitter failure when her father had come to her chambers and remind her of her loss meant for them.

"What did you do?"

"What did you do to kill the baby Anne?" Her father bellowed. Teeth clenched together –after his accusations in anger at his youngest daughter.

He had come into her Private Chambers earlier to see how she was coping, but the minute he set foot to her room, he became disappointed at the sorry state he saw her in.

Anne stared numbly, a wave of emotions passing through her and finally she became shocked from her father's accusation. Her hands were shaking, her face was still pale and there were purple bags from under her eyes –a clear sign that she had been crying all night.

"Father! I did nothing!" She said simply. Seeing her father's disbelief, her reasons turned to pleas. "I don't know what I did … or … wh-what happened. Father, I was so careful!"

Thomas Boleyn banged his fist on one of the walls. Finally seeing his daughter's troubled state; he sighed, crossing his arms and frowning -he turned his eyes in her direction; they were cold and icy-blue like hers, showing no mercy not even for the state his daughter was in. "Not careful enough." He said somberly.

He moved in closer to the bed where she rested, terrifying slow pace he said. "We must all be careful now. But you, especially not to loose the King's love …" he added then "or everything is lost. Everything! For all of us!"

England at last could laugh and mock Anne Boleyn all they wanted, for in the state she was; everybody would burst out laughing to see their prankster and cause for misery being torn apart so quickly from her Christ.

"No!" Anne sniffed as she kept waiting in vain for the nightmare to be over. That's all it was, a nightmare. But how could it be when the pain she felt in her heart was so real, and irreparable from the loss she had just suffered.

The Queen shouted for Dr. Linacre to come, but much to her horror, yet comfort, in her door, stood Henry.

--

Madge, Nan and other Ladies curtsied to Henry, whose faces furrowed with angst and lament. Henry could hear from the Outer Chamber of his wife's bedroom her lament and angry wailing. Controlling himself, he mustered all the patience he ever had to draw to see his wife. He pushed the door of her Private Room open and strode in.

The state his wife was in seemed not to matter to him, as her last form of attempts to remain sympathetic and in his good graces, showing how sorry she was for their loss.

Anne tried to stop her tears as she saw him in the middle of the room staring coldly at her. Her body began to shudder as he spoke, "You've … lost my boy." The words were so hard for Henry.

"Joanne calm down ... what did you do?" I asked to my distressed wife, she was still bleeding between her legs. "Ahhhhhh!!" She screamed as she gathered all the blood from between her legs.

His blood boiled as he saw his 'wife' crumbling form, shuddering as she picked up her handkerchief to clean up her legs from the remnants the baby had left on her nightgown.

The Queen's form was nothing but disgust to Henry who –with full determination- sharpened his tone of voice, "I cannot speak of it … f-for the lost is so great" He said coldly. "But I see now that God will not give me any male children. When you are up, I will speak to you."

Henry turned to leave when her voice stopped him.

"It is not my fault!"

"You … How could you do this to me?"

Henry looked back, incredulously, at her. It felt so much like his nightmare.

"You have no one to blame but yourself!" Anne said, "Because the love I bare you is so great, I was distressed to see you and that wench Jane Seymour whoring around behind my back!" Said the Anne; whose heart ached under her hitching breathing as her Henry kept staring at her numbly "My heart broke when I saw you loved others … others."

"You! you blame me for the loss of this child ... my boy ... but there is no greater blame here than you, it was the stress that I found out you had wrenched with that whore that made me fall ill and deliver too early! ... How does it feel knowing you caused this?"

"When you are well and in your mental functions or sane Joanne, you and I will speak, until then ... get well. I am sorry."

"I said I will speak to you when you are well" With that Henry left the room, through clenched teeth and angry pace he stormed from her apartments and into his own study.

Anne had drawn the last drop of water to Henry's glass of tolerance.

Cromwell and Chapuys stood outside the Queen's chambers as they saw Henry storm out in clear outrage. They both had curtsied Henry who was in a quick hurry to get away that he did not acknowledge their presence.

"Now he has lost his savior"

Cromwell did not reply to his colleague, he chose to follow His King instead inside.

The King stood motionless in his study; the silence in the room had been profound. Broken only by Henry's hitched breathing he turned to his second hand, Cromwell and with a voice close to a murmur, as if he started an intone prayer, carefully coached his knees buckled as he said.

"I made this marriage to her seduced by Witchcraft. And for that reason I consider it to be null and void, the evidence that God will not permit us to have any male issue" The King, their Master and Cromwell's as well, who had stifled many, mastering an iron hand against his enemies for speaking ill of the Lady Boleyn in the distant past, now inexorably, was convinced –his life needed to move on.

The reign of the boy-King had begun with glory, and already belonged to history; Henry VIII's true reign was just about to begin.

"So I believe now" he declared "that I might take yet –another wife."

1536, March 3rd

Greenwich: Conference Room

She opened one of the blankets where most of the bloodstain marks were, what she saw before her was a horrendous and appalling sight.

In the last word, was a note he had never expected to hear before from his physician. A nuance of pleading so that he could exclude his present wife of all faults he was convinced were true.

The Royal physician placed the fetus back into the large bowl of water. The apple not falling far from the tree, the son had been placed right next to his father, his would-be father.

Henry did not react to the Physician's words, even if he heard him he preferred they never reached his ears. He could have already pictured the child, tall and strong, lean with muscles and with dark complexion –like her-, and eyes as cold and eager for battle as he had been when he returned from his campaign of war against France. He had put the example of twelve year old boy possessing more courage than all his English troops. He had moved with his men into the battlefield, demonstrating true loyalty and compromise to the lives of his subjects.

It was not the sight of a natural brother or sister but that of a monster. His face all distorted and with no eyes, the baby had no eyes and his mouth was all destroyed, like it had been hacked in little pieces!!

Margaret let out a whimper and calmly gave the little creature -if it could be called such a thing- to the maid who took it away as soon as it was handed to her. She barely heard the footsteps behind her, only looked at the sight that kept replaying over and over through her mind.

There was something assimilating fear to wonder in the Doctor's face, like he wanted to keep all true from him, something important, something that could turn the wheel –depending who was the spinner- of fortune of Anne … to her formal rival, Jane Seymour.

"The child had the appearance –of a male. Age, four months old, now this I have confirmed it with my other physicians, many of whom I could show you they bare at you and your daughter, nothing more than respect.
Perhaps after all, the Queen's miscarriage was a blessing in disguise."

Servants running … cries, yelling, curses –and that face! The face of a dead brother with no soul and life to him. His parents would have been thrilled if the creature could be born natural as all babies did, months after, and healthy, but it suffered from the bad omen of being born dead and without the natural features of a healthy boy.

Her father's last chance of having a child had been ripped apart, a boy, a horrendous boy that now lay dead and was about to be buried in the deepest corner of the Earth where nobody could gaze at it's horrendous and disgusting malevolent face.

She silently walked without making a noise to her parent's bedroom. Inside was the crying figure of her mother with a bloodstain dress from the bottom of her legs where she had delivered.

Henry started at him with no care in the world of what could happen next, war, famine or religious uproar. It all seemed the same, now when he has no male heir.

"Majesty" The Physician bowed, lifting the bowl and leaving Henry alone to deal with the madness.

[Past]

More Household:

She was sobbing and weeping for the child she had just lost, her father -a man of composure and calm demeanor- did not cry but sobbed harder and painfully for the loss of his child. All of his life he had been waiting for a way of redemption where all of his sins could be washed over, and no longer worry about the weight of his conscience trailing after his guilt.

Now all chances were lost.

All chances were lost; he waited to comment to Brandon of the current events, only until the Dr. Linacre left.

Brandon gently bowed his head to his best friend, seeing the sadness that no one could see in his eyes he told Harry he was sorry, but that didn't matter. –Henry still felt the same. Gloomy and angered that all this time he had betrayed, murdered and even squashed the people's souls, those to whom he trusted the most, to serve under his Queen's whim. It left him lost with the memories of old friends, and most importantly; it left him in regretted shame that he could not take back what he said to them long ago.

Many sleepless nights Henry must have told himself why he had to do it. It was necessary he said it to himself many times, they were enemies of his new Empire, they forfeited their lives for not accepting his wife and daughter as first legitimate wife and heir respectively, and they failed to recognize him Head of the Church –that was what drew Henry over the edge with them.

He had no reason, a King of England born by God to the nobles of old Houses, descending from the old Edwards and with Castilian blood running in his veins, to regret his past acts. They were all fair when he signed them, then why now our King felt so remorseful, so regretful of the old friend he had not spared in the battlefield?

For who was the cause for the break of Rome, the burning of old 'heretics' and the murderer behind the treasonous acts signed no other than by his own hand? Who was it that incurred the wrath unto himself by marrying a witch, and being the victim of her secret spells and incantations?

What had Henry done? –He asked himself.

"Charles." He acknowledged his friend standing from behind him. "There is much we need to do."

The Duke of Suffolk's hand reached his old friend's back. Both men embraced each other as Henry voiced the troubles of his conscience to him.

Gambling with lives had become the Seymour's Family new hobby. The second oldest of the Seymour clan came to the Great Hall and paused, watching the small children gathered around the Court. They were engaged in a game to see who danced the best.
Edward was surprised to see that one of them was no other than the little Princess of Wales –Elizabeth. The other with striking black hair as the night sky outside the Palace's windows, was Thomas Fitzroy.

It seemed that the children knew not of other's mother or their quarrels. A dance also made them forget, that despite their seemingly close friendship, they were born to be rivals.

He gambled with the life of his own sister, why should he not gamble with the souls of two innocent children?

Edward walked into the office of Thomas Cromwell whose face was a mixture of apprehension, yet hope at Seymour's presence. "Mr. Secretary." Edward said, numbly as ever, showing not one drip of emotion or sensitivity to the matter at hand.

Cromwell barely smiled; acknowledging favor to Edward Seymour was a hard task. "We don't know each other very well, but we shall. I have every confidence. It is His Majesty's pleasure to appoint you a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber. In that capacity you will attend His Majesty daily, and as he sees fit to use you. It is a privilege" He paused. "Sir Edward."

Edward turned to Cromwell, showing somewhat surprise at his last sentence. "Sir Edward?" He asked, baffled.
"Not now … but the King is always in need of new acquaintances; I am sure your sister knows that if you know what's good for her … or for yourself and family members"

--

Now that Princess Mary had heard the news of her stepmother's recent miscarriage, things could not have gone for the better for her. She prayed to the statue of the Virgin, that God now might show the light into her father's eyes and uncover the veil that had blinded him for so long.

The ladies in Elizabeth's Household, who had already walked away from her care; spun around, sending their wary looks to the former Princess. "Are you forgetting your duties Lady Mary" One of them said, emphasizing Mary's degradation as she addressed her slowly as Lady.

Mary Tudor paid no heed and slowly walked away from them.

April

Whitehall Palace

(evening)

"Ambassadeur!"

Was it sadness in her voice? Desperate to seek some supporters in Court, Anne had turned out to the man who could help her in her direst; Ambassador of France.
Nonetheless; the Ambassador turned toward her, and seeing the still-Queen of Henry, he bowed deeply. "Madame"

Anne urgently approached him "Monsieur Ambassadeur" She whispered with a perfect French accent, but it was only normal when the present Queen of England was known to have more French etiquette in her than English, spending too much of her formative years in France, the Ambassador was not surprised. "I beg off you to tell King Francis. He must be persuaded somehow to accept the marriage of his son, the Dauphin or the Duke of Orleans; it doesn't matter! To our daughter please, Elizabeth so that I may not be the object of the King's madness."

"I see myself very near that, even before our marriage, I need to make it clear that there is no other pretender to my daughter's throne than Mary. Her eyes move everywhere Ambassador, if the King Francis knows what's best he will vouch for me." She said, suddenly footsteps echoing through the Hall of the emptied Court at midday made her hurry. "I cannot speak but tell His Majesty, and my utmost gratitude goes to him and his sons, please as you love me don't make the King's conscience do his bidding!"

The Ambassador retained some of his calm, though the Queen probably knew that he was taken aback from the urgent state she was in. The Ambassador knew alright, but it would be too much to hope only on him, did she not have other friends she might turn to in her hour of need? Of course not, but his mind kept telling him that he was already in shaky ground with the King of England; he certainly did not need the King of France suspecting him.

But nonetheless out of his love and affection, he responded with delicacy. "I will see what I can do Your Highness!" He bowed deeply and both left.

My Lady, the Queen who had once been a Lady of low rank compared to Isabella of Hapsburg, born a Princess, granddaughter to the Emperor Maximilian at the time, was now in dire need for help. No one else could help her but the Ambassador, he was the only one who could reach Francis I in time and make her plight known. If not, then she was alone, blowing in the wind like particles of dust.

That's what awaited all those who disappointed Henry, one way or the other the King was now the giver and taker of life. God had a name now. Scholars and Muslims could debate the true nature of His name -who was him, and what was his true calling, but Anne had just discovered it. He was Henry.

God was Henry. Anne stifled a giggle from her lips as she eyed her ladies. They were all talking to Jane, Henry's wrench, now it was the time for her to find out if she was a wench.

1536, April 16th.

Whitehall Palace:

[Dawn]

Jane was playing with her locket. Madge was not talking to her, she sent looks of sympathy and regret to Jane; but there was no need for her friend to that. She understood why. Anne was there.

"The Seymours have taken over Cromwell's rooms here at the Palace, and I hear Nicholas Carew one of her sympathizers, is to be made candidate to Order of the Garter."

Anne turned to Jane, with fire blazing her heart and stunned. "Cromwell's rooms? That leads right to the King's bedchambers!" Nan nodded and left Anne's side to return to her game of cards.

She kept herself busy by looking at her golden necklace. It was a sacred locket that her Lancelot had given her, to keep with her always, close to her heart.

Anne suddenly came from behind and she immediately hid it away from sight. But it was too late! Anne had already seen it and she shouted at Jane to turn it over. "It is of no importance … to you, Your Grace."

"Give it to me!" Anne ordered but Jane ignored her orders. Tired of her civil disobedience, Anne snatched the locket from behind, scratching Jane's pale hands. What she watched set her heart on fire.

Jane got to know personally Anne's wrath for the first time. The girl caressed her cheek where her Mistress had slapped her, and left an imprint on her. Yet Jane, strong and cold as her brother, she did not cry or beg for forgiveness. She was a Seymour, of stronger and nobler lineage than what this fishwife Queen was. She would not lower herself bowing to a Jezebel, that much Jane honored her roots.

Unlike Anne –Jane thought greedily her rival's ring on her finger, stained with the blood she got from her cheek.
Anne turned away from Jane, and with some satisfaction after she watched Jane flinch, she walked away.

Madge who was near, once she was sure Anne left, picked up the golden necklace and hurriedly toss it to Jane. "Keep it."

April 20th.

--

Jane felt lost. Her love had just told her that he didn't want to see her anymore. And she understood why. It was because of that fishwife and Mistress Boleyn, who was causing enough hell to Jane's life and to her family by humiliating them, everyday making awful remarks to their faces and their friends.

The next pretender to the throne nodded to His Majesty and left him. Off to go to Wolf-Hall where her brother and father were to stay, at least until the storm could wear off from the King's temples.

Then as he promised to her privately, he would get married to her and she would be Queen, next to nothing more than happiness.

… Happiness

Nicholas Carew on April of the 23rd had been made member of Order of the Garter, it was said he would be a candidate but she never thought it possible! That position was only for people of importance, a relative or a favored Courtier of the King … or Queen.

Her brother, George had aspired for that position ever since she became Queen of England, and now it had been denied by the man who promised to please her and make her happy in everything she wanted. How was it possible that her will turns hollow, next to that simpleton and pale Jane, who next to nothing was a mere commoner.

A usurper! That's what she was, a usurper and a pretender to the Crown of a 'true' noble born Lady who was descended from Edward I and possessed nobler lineage. By that reason, if the King really wanted to set her aside, he would have to work hard to do it!

Her child would rule a better England than him, and if he ever got a son from that nun-like's womb, that is, if he really intended to marry her, and divide more into factions what he already had before in his Kingdom; then so be it! He would never compare next to her Elizabeth.
She had never before felt such devotion for somebody, or someone in her life. She laughed as she admitted that she had only sought Henry for her family's favor, never because of his love or his interest of her to him. She had even laughed and paraded her jewels around the Court, even spat to Isabella –the same way Jane had done to her- that it was none of her business to ask where her jewels came from.

Now she was so deeply in love with him, that she wanted to convince herself that he would never do anything to harm her physical body. They had Elizabeth, and he loved her, paraded her through the Court, even made his eldest daughter –once too his Golden Pearl like Elizabeth- a maid in her Household. What more could he show, but love, devotion and care to his only child?

April 17th.

Thomas Boleyn devised a new plan to get into the King's favor. His daughter had foolishly lost his by loosing a son … again for God knows how many times it was now; he lost count after the death of poor babe Arthur. He came to her bedchambers, with the same hurry, but in that hurry now it was included a desperate attempt that the King could still be under his daughter's fingers, guarantying her security and his.

"It seems that our best card is supporting the Emperor whether you like it or not! It is our only hope he might spare you or us." Said her father, Anne seemed annoyingly disinterested. To her father it seemed she cared more about her fashions and her latest headdresses she ordered from France, than the situation they were facing as a Family.

The former Ambassador to the King took her hands, and held them roughly, pulling her to a corner, not afraid to cause her harm, for what was their harm to cause when her womb was as hollow as his heart. "You will listen! He Imperial Ambassador is to be received and you will kiss him on his cheek Anne as a sign of friendship, even comment brusquely on the French, how they are hypocrite, shallow and treacherous. You hate them Anne."
His daughter mouthed "No" but her father's hold on her body tightened, he squeezes her cheeks like she was a little girl being reprimanded.
"We have come so far! No one is allowed to destroy us!" No one!" Do you understand?"

Anne did not show any signs of fear to her father, and for that he was proud, but she didn't bare the same strong and defiant figure. She was more defeated than defiant. "Yes father" She said finally to him and he nodded, turning his gaze away he let her go.

--

April 18th.

Whitehall Palace: Court Room.

There were dances and cheers, their new "friends" from afar had come with high spirits to greet the Queen, some Anne noticed her saluted her with pleasure, other with amusement, but none with trace of regret or envy. How could she cause them to envy her?

She had once been in the most desired spot, out of all women he had chosen her and she got a Crown. But now? Where was she? Everyone pitied her, and those who didn't hid their laughter and their mockeries, as well as their offenses. Nobody wanted to be the Queen of England anymore; those who did were foolish and ignorant. Didn't they know that one was dead, probably accused still of a whore and wench when she first wed the King, the other about to be killed for miscarrying a boy? –That's what they all said, and their words could not be anymore true. She was a wench, Isabella had been. And she, well she had already lost many of His Majesty's boys, sickness or in abortion it didn't matter, it mattered only whose womb the baby came from.

Chapuys, despised by the Queen and her family alike, entered the Court like a champion, eager to receive his reward for his good service.
He saw the Queen's father, the Earl and her brother, Lord Rochford, he greeted them both. "Excellency, you are most welcome to the Court!" George said with excitement, Anne however no far from them in her chair, could hint a trace of sarcasm dripping from her brother's voice. It was not noted however by the Ambassador; who had more important matters at hand than care for a doomed Queen's brother ill feeling directed at him. "My Lord." The Imperial Ambassador respectfully replied, followed by a cool gesture toward the elder of the Boleyns.

Cromwell, the sniveling little coward –in Anne's eyes- moved to greet Chapuys as well. It was certainly not the best of days.

Now it had come Anne's turn. She and Henry passed through Chapuys, being announced formally by the Chamberlain of their presence. Chapuys bowed deeply, yet there was no sign of respect in his bow, she was still a fishwife like him, like with Jane. Anne looked at him directly, he responded with a death glare. The Boleyn men smiled to the happy couple and bowed to them before leaving. They later bowed to the Emperor's ambassador, who Wyatt and others behind noted he did not return the smile or the bow.

How could that spy continue to laugh behind her back? He and that insufferable girl, Mary, were the thorns that always prickled her spine. Now they were sure to be conspiring, along with Seymour supporters to dethrone her.

Her father was right; they had worked so hard to achieve this. She would not let his efforts or hers go to waste, just because of a pale girl's ambition to get to where she was.

When this was over, Anne convinced herself that she would curse Henry, and curse Jane, both for ever turning their backs against their Mistress!

April 23

Queen's Chambers:

--

Everyone who knew that Carew as well as Edward Seymour, was counseling dear Jane; shut their mouths when they saw their ruler and Lord enter the Court. They were once free to speak their minds, now they hardly spoke at all, but wishes and compliments to his Majesty's looks, to his Majesty's hair, etc, etc … to his boots they licked without notice, and with pleasure, their dignity? Ha! What about dignity if you could have all the riches in England, if not the world now that the monastery houses were going to those in favor of the King?

Later that day as the Courtiers squabbled with themselves, inside Whitehall, where the Queen resided with her Ladies. Jane had returned to Court, against her father's protest and her brother's logic, she had done so because in a letter addressed to the King she had replied that she feared no death but a thousand lives without him by her side. Moved by this, the King had welcomed her back, and the other Courtiers in favor of the Reformation, while they looked in fear and contempt to Jane –they had to bite their tongues for any insult to the King's most gracious Lady. She was his true English rose, truer that every other to walk on the face of the Earth.

Jane tagged along with the Queen for the day in her Private Chambers. The door burst open with an angered and bitter Jane. This was Jane Rochford, sister to her brother and sister-in-law to the Queen, what heaven she was supposed to be in.

Anne seated on her Bed, with Mark right next to her. She looked up to him and noted sadness in his movements, even by the mellow tune he played. "Mark" She addressed him. "Why are you sad?"
Mark shook his head and then turned away.
"It doesn't matter" He said in a melodramatic voice. He didn't notice Anne's feeling as much as he took care of his own, when she felt a tug of embarrassment that he would speak to her so freely, instead of addressing her by her Royal Title as protocol demanded of every subject. "As an inferior person Mark Smeaton, Sir I demand you address me as your status obligates you. You are not a nobleman nor have Royal blood in your veins to speak free."
Mark's expression as his voice didn't change, but before he could reply to his best Royal friend, Nan entered her chambers, bowing low to her Mistress before addressing her.
"What is it?" Asked Anne gently, emphasizing her authority so it could be well known for Mark for the next occasion.
"Lady Rochford is here." She said. "She wished to see Her Majesty immediately, it seemed urgent by the tone of her voice."

Anne gestured to George's wife, standing in her Outer Chamber to greet her with friendliness. Jane did not return the bow or smiled at her, she came for her husband. "Lady Rochford hush, do not speak these things here."
Jane's gaze was turned to the musician Mark Smeaton before pleading with the Queen again, coldly. "You do not understand Your Grace; I only want that he treats me properly like the King is with you."

At that moment, Anne's nerves flared up with surprise. She saw Jane Seymour sitting rather alone by the window, with that same dreamy look she had on her eyes when she first courted the King; she turned to the other Jane, Rochford and in a loud voice so everybody could hear her, she said, "Let me tell you something Lady Rochford. The King as he is called cannot satisfy a woman. He has neither the skill nor the virility."

After saying the King was incapable of working his seed properly; she left everyone behind retiring to her Inner chamber, laughing madly at their stunned faces. Leaving also behind, a hurt Seymour girl behind, and another Jane, more enraged and determined to start her battle.

--

On that same day, before the night glazed over the dark sky and the stars showed their faces to light the forests, men of the King's guard showed up and arrested Smeaton. Beating him near a pulp they brought him into one of the interrogation cells where Cromwell and Richard Rich lay.

Smeaton shouted to Cromwell enraged. "Mr. Cromwell, what is the meaning of this?"

Cromwell said nothing but merely led his feet to walk nearby Richard, who took in turn a handful of papers Cromwell was carrying, involving hard proof of the accused.

"I am accused of what? … I assure you I never lay a finger on Her Majesty's b-"
Mark's shouts were cut short by Cromwell's fist being slammed on the interrogation table. "You have never been one for Authority Mr. Smeaton, so I ask you again, have you and the Queen ever engaged in carnal relations behind the King's back?"

Mark desperately pleaded to let him go, he had nothing to do there. He was oblivious of who could accuse him, a musician of humble beginnings who had never caused, or had any reason to cause any nobleman any harm.

"You have not answered my question Mr. Smeaton"

Smeaton had nothing to say but plead for justice, and a fair trial to his poor health. This enraged Cromwell further and he told the guards to submit Smeaton under treason, only then could Cromwell gather enough evidence to convince the Queen of treason.
This was so hard for Cromwell, who was already on a toll for his soul and his purse. He admitted he hated the Queen ever since her outburst for giving one of the monasteries in Rochester to two Courtiers, but she left him no choice. Yet, something within Cromwell, maybe a tug of his conscience, something that was not him, more Moore, let him to wonder on whether he was doing the right thing by supplanting one Queen with her death.
But it was a hard to pray when there was no honor in what he was about to do.

He looked at the Cross, at where he was. In a Church, a place he was taken as a child and often listened to fat catholic Priests give their version about what God wanted from his servants. But as he grew he saw it was not his will or the church's that dominated the people, but it was the wronged faith robbed of all its pure nature, corrupted.

He vowed never again to fall victim under the prey of religion or faith, yet he had grown attached unto the bosom of Lutheranism. It was pure, devoid of any fanaticism, yet when it was known that Luther was persecuting Jews and killing the catholic factions; he became disappointed. Could the world be nothing more than a shell, a masquerade we live in and the only profit is to profit yourself or death? Yes, the answer sounded so logical now, if he wanted to survive he had to do it, he had to deliver one more soul unto the Lord, innocent or not, it was no longer his choice to make.

Greenwich Palace.

May Day: Evening.

Smeaton had confessed, once again it had become the King's concern over his new Mistress' safety. She had to be protected at all cost … no matter what.

Jane could not attend the May Day festivities as she wished, the King voiced the dangers she could run in if the Boleyn found out how close she was to the King's heart and soul. Always clever –thought Jane sarcastically. Her love wanted so much to believe that the Kingdom was in his disposal, but truth it wasn't. Since when had he lifted a finger to truly reign, without being subjected to the will of women or men who wanted not his love or care, but rather his Crown?

She was probably no better than Anne, already she could hear people whispering; but at least she had good judgment to know how to play the game. In the end it was not about winning, or losing, it was how you played the game.

--

The action now finally came, as the means to interview one of her loves. The very one who tried to kill him? Probably, he told himself for sure, to marry her and then rule along her side with Elizabeth in her minority, then old Boleyn Senior would move as Ruler de Facto, his daughter placed under House arrest, possibly killed, and him –nobody would regret the death of King so hated, they would probably cheer at his accidental death. Jane, her face was the only thing that brought him back from death when the lance had hit so close to his face. She would be treated as an outcast in Court, if she ever reached that far and considering the Boleyn faction was noble, they would try her later under her false charges; he was sure his wife would see to that easily.

He had chosen under Doctor's orders, not to participate in the Joust, so he remained a spectator in one of his favorite sports.

He saw Norris moving far away as possible from him and his wife. A sensation to beat the daylights out of him swept through, but he had no choice but to restrain himself. He had already humiliated himself enough at the expense of others he once called friends, now it was going to be different, very different.

Moving aside from his wife, he turned to leave. Anne asked why, the King did not respond and left her alone to view the Sport. With the deliverer of the message by Cromwell, he was sure the time had come at last; to make things settled the way they should be.
He pretended to show friendship to Norris, so the man could be convinced that it was of no danger riding with the King and guards. The Keeper of Privy Purse and once trusted friend of Henry rode off with him, yeomen and guards following them deep into the woods.

"Your Majesty" Norris bowed deeply, although a little bit late to Henry.

Henry smiled to Norris' gesture, laughing softly, "Oh Norris you always managed to amuse me … too good for me you are, although you not amuse me as much as the old Queen is. Smeaton just made a confession about you … It's over"

Henry's expression turned serious, while Norris turned to his Master in alarm. "No! You must be mistaken, your Majesty I assure you. This is ridiculous."

"So I am an object of ridicule" spat Henry. Norris was about to protest when Henry called, "Guards!" Several of them came behind Norris and ceased him. "You are under arrest Norris. Take him to the Tower at once! Pray Sir Norris that I just might merciful to grant you a death free of torture!"

--

Now it was George and Thomas Boleyn's turn to be nervous. Ever since his lover had been captured, arrested and beaten like a dog by the King's soldiers, George knew it was only a matter of time before they get to them.

Just what they needed! Thought Thomas Boleyn after he and George strode to an empty room. The King earlier seemed distressed, nobody needed to know why, but Thomas Boleyn in all his desperate attempts to reconcile with the King; he told His Majesty if only they, as civilized men could invest some of their spare time about the welfare of his daughter. He posed no threat; he said to the Earl, he told him and his son to meet him at his Chambers, just before the sunset.

Now they were here, empty handed with no King. This had to be something foolish on the King's part! This was not right, something was definitely not right and Thomas Boleyn knew it was of utmost importance to find out as quickly as possible. He told George to follow him, scared and distressed, for the first time in his life.

He and George sat on the King's Private Chambers, waiting … hoping.
George had learned from his father never to voice his thoughts, but he couldn't help it, it was too much intake in less than a month. Their life had gone from bliss to piss. With obnoxious feeling he asked, "What is it?" Thomas Boleyn turned to his son, incredulous he could not see it when it was clear as water. "Don't you see it's over George; its over there is no other game, no other card to play, we are done. Ruined because of you and your sister and if you have some common sense … then please do us a favor, then to your sister to run away, I will meet you at the Gate, be there in five minutes or I leave you with her."
This Boleyn member never got to know his father's nature, even though he was always aware of it. He had become the victim, but so was his father, and both were doing everything they could to survive. They parted their ways; two second before climbing into the Carriage that waited for them outside, dozens of Guard came running towards them, arresting them under charges of adultery, conspiring to commit murder and [to George] incest.

(1536)

Tuesday, May 2nd.

Greenwich Palace: Queen's Chambers

Anne's tone was urgent. She held no long pleading for the strenuous type of stress, she was now in.

"Nan." She addressed her voice.
"Yes your Majesty?"

"If anything were to happen to me, I want you to take care of my daughter. Understand me, protect her." She said steadily. There was no sadness or hint of imminent regret belonging to her voice; she knew that Nan would be a Governess and perhaps good nanny to Elizabeth. She could not be in better hands.

At that time Guard came without permission from the Queen into her Private Chambers. Her ladies and she were not startled however; they seemed to have expected it. Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon was the one to present himself to the Queen, showing no fear or regret. "Your Majesty is to be informed you are under arrest and is placed on White Tower, you will not be entering through Watergate, but on the Barbican Gate to spear you further humiliation ahead."

Anne nodded, "That's good."

And so they led her to her new home for the next two weeks. Anne nearly collapsed unto her knees by the time they dropped her to Master Kingston's care. She yielded to Charles Brandon and to others, on the point of drawing laughter and tears altogether to plead for the King and for her safety!

"I was crowned here first. I beseech you please, tell Him of my plight!" She cried, but her pleas were hardly listened by the men who were her enemies –in the past, present and would surely be to years to come, retaliating with her daughter against the crimes she was accused of.

But the King, even if they send word to him on time before her trial to find her guilty of incest and adultery, of her plight –he would not reach to her and find her comfort under his loving arms as he had done in the past. He was beyond such distasteful sight, reveling himself in dreams of his future wife-to-be, Jane Seymour, a placid and more virtuous wife than the other two.

Why should he care about Anne, when he found his true jewel standing in front of him? Willing to obey and serve him on all things –no matter what.

King Henry, a true son of the Tudor House, could leave the fate of that wretched woman to others.

Though he hardly subscribed himself to the qualities of honesty and integrity in himself, he admired them in others, almost as once he had confided in his beloved love, Jane to tell of him of his problems, and she would hear him with a kind smile and without reproach. It was a nice change from Anne Boleyn, who was always angry and rebellious.

Jane was his muse, his inspiration to draw courage in the toughest times. If all of his past women could have been like Jane he would have been happy and at peace, but his upbringing was the result of unhappy women creating an unhappy child in result.

The trial of Anne Boleyn was a cynical operation, a mockery of the noblest laws of God and men, intended to have only one result; her death. There was no other way they could crown Henry's new prospect for a Queen.

And to think all of this was, because she could not give the King a son!

Poor Cranmer, while Anne was suffering from madness, and devoid of friends and allies. The Boleyn's old ally lay in a difficult position. What to do? To vote or not to vote –therein was the question. He votes for Anne, she gets one friend, but he then joins her in the race to finish her off. He could not afford that, he had been faithful to Anne, and probably still was, to his daughter at least, but he could not risk his head being taken from his body. If he wanted to do so much more for England, and for the Reformation, he needed to sit tight, and listen to all of the false accusation they were going to make against a fine Lady he had helped and served proudly.

May 13th.

Croydon.

--

It was Nicholas Carew's House where he and Jane met. They were happily walking together in his garden. He voiced no protest over the King having a hunting party, but Jane did. The King of England was surprised that his sweetheart voiced protest, as she was always passive and sweet talking to him. But out of the corner of his eye, sensing anger, she carefully told him it was because of his condition, she was afraid he would get hurt again and that alone would leave her heart aching for his soul.

The King agreed, finally overtaken by her love and sweetness. He could not bare to tare up her weak heart over him, so they instead walked, and talked in relative peace, while on the other side of his Country, from the wife he had rejected –she lay in desperate need of help, she and her family were close to nothing now, but Henry did not matter, he had his Aphrodite and perfect woman just in front of him.

Everything else as he kissed her did not matter.

--

It was now true to Anne, how the King's heart dictated more of his conscience than his logic. It had become amazingly conveniently to be disposed of Anne. Her formal rival's advice that she would one day be as disposable as a noble woman born of Imperial lineage, could not be truer.

The King who on April the 24th had signed a commission to investigate the Queen and allow his Vice-Regent and Secretary in Spiritual matters to handle the case, felt somehow remorse for his old wife Isabella and their daughter. If he could remarry again,

--

The trial had ended, her old love Henry Percy had said the word "guilty" among the jurors was also included Giles Heron, Cecilia Heron's husband and close friend to Elizabeth Dauncey-More, the mother of her husband's latest bastard.

Thomas Fitzroy had come to Court before she was arrested; she was disgusted to see her beautiful girl making dances in front of him, trying to catch his attention. He a low servant of a wench, a true fish wife, and she born of royalty through her mother's side, of hardworking people through her father's, her daughter's lineage was nothing to be ashamed of, so she asked herself: was it her daughter's innocence that made her dance and show off for approval in front of little Fitzroy's place? Or, was it pity that moved that moved her towards him?

Master Kingston visited her inside the Prison cell. Curious that these were once her lodging of stay when she was first led in her procession through London to become the new Queen of England.

The "May Queen" they had named her, and she had welcomed their joys and sorrows into her heart, accepting every subject, from the yeomen to the nobles into her service. Henry had been so happy as well, reaching out to his fellow English men.

Anne confessed to Cranmer earlier that day, that she was true maid when she came to the King, and that God might be the only one who judged her, she committed no treason but giving herself fully to the people, which she knew was against protocol, but the King never made any argument against. Cranmer of Canterbury had asked her if there was anything else, besides that; that she considered important to confess to him now before her ascension to heaven. Anne had dismissed him telling him to continue fighting for her daughter's rightful position, he had vowed he would never give up the fight, so would she will never give up as long as she still had an inch of fighting spirit left in her.

Strangely as Master Kingston got out of the room at the same time as Cranmer did, she thought about Sir Thomas' death, Henry's true father. He had never told anyone of the King's true secret, or hers. Why? It was in his very right to do so, but if he did, so Elizabeth would be dead with her bastard sister following her into the grave.
Anne was grateful, a small tug of sympathy at that closed minded man that he at least had some sense not to do it. He had once irritated her immeasurably. He thought he was so superior with his daughters and their book learning; some flaunted themselves when they came to Court, by not dancing, drinking or eating anything. They were proud and strutting with pure fanaticism like their father, but she admired that in them, on some funny way she had been like them no more than one year ago when she asked the King to send Mary away from Castles and privilege if continued in her pointless crusade to fight for her mother's rightful place in History, as hers in the Line of succession ahead of her daughter.

She tucked her arms.

Her brother George was dead now, executed and his head placed on a spike where she was told people spit at him like he was some wild animal, dissected and placed on exhibit.

She hated it! She cried so hard that her father had to shout at her, next door to stop. But she could not stop, she just wanted her little brother, back and safe, and her father did not bother to console her or at least show a tear, a tug of sympathy to show he had loved his children, in his own way.
He was released on this day, and Anne looking solemnly on the window, reached out an invisible hand to his cheek, but he turned it away, just as he had ripped her apart from his life, he walked away. Strangely, his father was never like this in the past. He had once loved her and appreciated everything they, she and her brother and sister did when their mother was alive.

With sudden realization, Anne vowed that her heart would never ache for any father save Christ or any son save the Lord's own. Christ may he keep her soul intact when she entered the Kingdom of heaven, for Henry would bare no remorse for his actions.

Oh Henry!

How could you do this, how did you end me up like this, can we not take all back and come to a new Renaissance like you are promising your Mistress Jane Seymour right now? Please Henry … Father come to me … and don't leave me, now, when I most need you.

I loved you.

May 19th

Tower of London

Nine o' Clock: Morning.

Nevertheless the day when it had come, she had been ready. Her execution was supposed to come days earlier, but it was delayed, making her anxious and nervous that maybe God was sparing her, that Henry had changed his mind or that maybe he didn't care about sending an expert swordsman of Calais to cut through her fine and small neck. He just wanted it over with.

Anne had not resented them, when they came to gather in front of her, seeing a former Queen who was now deemed whore, witch and perhaps worst of all –committing incest with her brother.

Charles Brandon and his son Edward, and eldest daughter Frances; were gathered with the crowd, surely, waiting the moment [as everyone else] when they could finally see their Queen die.

Several of the Londoners and English men and women present, had been persuaded to take heed of the King's new creed. His Queen was no longer Queen, just like Isabella after death had been decreed that she had never been the King's true wife, now Cranmer once again –but this time regretting that he did- fulfilled his Master's wishes by declaring marriage to Anne null and void. So the May Queen on the block was not be addressed as 'Your Grace' or 'Majesty'; she was now like she had always been Lady Anne.

The Lady Anne holding her head up high, spoke to the people who had once been her loving crowd of subject, "Good Christian people, I have come here today to die, according to the law and thus yield myself to the King's will, your Truthful Sovereign as mine, my Lord. And if in my life did I offend the King in any manner or way, I know my death will atone for such offenses."

She could hear her maids from behind weeping; they were being moved by her words, as was the crowd facing her. They placed on her hair a simple coif and she took away her earring and other pieces of jewelry, save her 'B' necklace she had obtained from her father's hands on her sixteenth birthday. The last remembrance of comfort she had from her old man. "I pray," she further said. "and I beseech you to pray for the life of the King, our Sovereign and my Lord, who is one of the best Princes on the face of the Earth. Who has always treated me so well, wherefore I submit to death with a good will, humbly asking yours as the Lord's pardon. If anyone should take my case, please I ask you to judge kindly."

Many murmurs rumbled softly through the crowd, of sympathy, and some who were less forgiving –of pity. But they all agreed with the same feeling, that this was a regretful sight.

"Thus as I take my leave of the world, and of you, and I heartily desire all of you to pray for me."

"We will pray for you."

"Bless your soul!" "Lady Anne we will"

She heard soft whispers escape the lips of many spectators. They had all come here to look at her, expecting to tremble in fear and cry for her father and brother in arms, Jesus Christ, but she had given them none the satisfaction. She had stood tall and proud, like any good Queen of noble blood flowing through her veins will.

In that moment the people as the swordsman from Calais mouthed for her forgiveness, they all saw a woman torn up by love and her loss of many children. In that moment, they regretted their decision, those who had ever called her witch, whore or maid of Satan behind her back.

She had been one of the best Mistresses this small Isle had had, and now she was going to die for not giving the King a male son to hold his Dynasty and Tudor name.

What was a Tudor name, but more of nest of snakes devouring others goodness and taking away their freedom and justice from the people.

"Jesus have mercy on my soul. Jesus please have mercy on my soul. Oh Jesus have mercy on my soul."

She glanced back again to her crowd of mourners, not able to stop looking. Closing her eyes and pretending this was all a dream, a bad dream with her father finding she was hiding under her bed, would not work. She could no longer find any other comfort, truly devoting to dying she had given herself fully to the Lord's wisdom and care.

Kneeling, she could hear the soft music of the wind, carrying away the words of the English, a soft breeze that touched her cheek made her lift her head up and she saw a raven, a crow. Lifting its wings the majestic black bird flew away into heavens to freedom. The eyes of Edward Brandon and Frances came to rest on the Queen's pupils whose eyes told a complex story of love, betrayal, revenge and … sorrow.

The hour was finally approached, no delay she felt another breeze. This was warm against the cool one she had felt earlier at seeing the bird flow away to freedom, this was releasing her.

She barely heard the words spoken by the constable Kingston, or the swordsman behind her; her head with self confidence of an assured Queen looked up above. The final dignity and grace that she had beheld were gone.

She felt at last free as hot wind rushed through her body, starting within the middle of her neck, then she knew no more. The world she knew flew apart; she was no longer part of.

[May 19th.]

12:00 PM

"Make way. Make way …" The King's chamberlain called amongst the gathering crowd of servants.

They were all gathered around the King, as they put the silver tray in front of him, waiting for his praise and admiration. But they would be disappointed, his last praise and admiration for somebody had ended up tearing his heart and mind, no longer had he said, would anyone get one.

A servant on orders of His Majesty immediately lifted the silver cover. A magnificent sight was caught on the King's eyes!

The music of the servants' applauds –and the Chamberlain- echoed throughout his Chamber. His Grace was pleased with the cook and with his servants, but he never said thankyou. He would not downgrade himself lower than what he already had with three people, one whom pretended to love him and in the end, forced him to send her to Hades. The others, two people whom he had loved and devoted his life to, to in the end be betrayed, he took care of them too, but unlike with the first two that came to his mind, he never lifted up a finger against her.

Henry pleased with the banquet took one more second to admire the sight. A beautiful swan, pure and white covered a delicious pie and bread, made just for him at his request.
He tore up the Swan's wings and gave them away, then as soon as he did the head fell, finally leaving no space –he thrust his hand through the pie, at the center reaching out for the dripping red liquid and gravy to touch his lips.

Henry continued to devour the pie, and giving away more of the white swan's pieces to his servants to throw away, or do with them as he pleased, until he devoured the pie he kept dripping up his fingers in more gravy and soon all of them were stained with red.

--

"Now we're all sons of bitches."..." Now we are all sons of bitches." –Sarah Connor: Monologue (Character), Sarah Connor Chronicles (2008)

A/N: A lot of thank yous and hugs, to all of my friends and authors on who reviewed and helped me stay strong with your reviews, thanks to aestheticnarcissit for your help on chapters 18-19, and for your encouragement and strong fem attitude, read her new fic on twilight section, cool crossover of twilight and Tudors! Thanks again Amiga *hugs and high five, but what if I miss, the runs before she kicks my hide: P Just kidding* You wont be disappointed. Regan X *hugs*:) Amiga Ninia Girl you were the first one to review and show support for Treason by Parentage Part I, and she has helped me through chapter 24-26, and also on chap 15. She had been a great support and her son addition to the end of TBP part I was thanks to her. PTNE: DeadMan'sTale :)thanks for your last chapter help, Thankyou these are for you girls! Kisses LadyJax999 thanks so much for your help with pain to no end, with a future character that also Regan has helped too, mua my friend, read her story unexpected love is great! Ladyredvelvet oh my God! Girl hugs to you too! I enjoyed working with you on triad dragons developing the character Marion ravenwood. Read her story triad dragon:) and savage queen. :) BoleynofAragon 21 friend thanks for helping me with some elements of snowwhite, and girl I hope you do come back to fanfiction kudos. Boleyn girl13 read her story King Arthur II. It rocks :) and thanks for your support too. Lemondropseverus :) thanks too and read her story the queen and kahuna sama thankyou girl! Your support has helped me too.

TBPIII will not be updated until March 20th. One chapter, per day, as of now snow white will end too, pain to no end today as well, and tudor's cukoos until I am at the middle will I post something new, a posted challenge on what ifs forum by reganx -the admin. My challenge you can see there if u are interested or others like aesthetic and regan who has goones ones too, also ladyjax.

It was hard doing this for me as mentioned but I enjoyed the challenge however at this challenge I impressed myself but I nearly cried when writing about her death, and how it is not really a death, but a plight for hope for her daughter. She really loved elizabeth, now I realize that more than ever that I go through her head, as Katherine! And Henry oh my, well guys also she is now free, the crow simbolizes her plight to freedom, she willingly talks nobler about the King for him that he harbors no ill wish to their daughter.

R/R :)

A/N: