Bed of Deceit

Author's note: All appearances will follow the show's representation. However, since this is an AU, it will differ from historical events and also the show's storylines. Some things will remain the same but much will have changed. Be warned.

Also, this new project of mine was started as a pastime. I have quite a bit of the story pre-written but for some reason, I have never been able to write a story in a linear fashion. My inspiration/muse decides to strike in a very random fashion. Some chapters, no matter where they actually are located in the story, just write themselves and I have to work hard to be able to fill in the blanks in between. To top it all off, I have very little free time for myself. Therefore, I cannot offer a set update schedule. I apologize in advance for that and I hope you can bear with me.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Tudors or any characters that belong to the show/history. However, all original characters are mine.

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Chapter 1: Nightmares

McKenzie Estates, Dukedom of Orkney, Scotland

20 May 1537

The moon shone through the tapestries covering the windows of the Duchess of Orkney's bedchambers, casting its soothing light on her skin yet her sleep was far from peaceful. Beneath her closed eyelids, images flashed at a rapid pace...painful memories bubbling back to the surface of her mind.

Two cold blue eyes had stared her down.

"After all, a life so young, so fragile, can easily be snuffed out."

"You BASTARD!" she had yelled, indignantly. "How DARE you threaten the life of my son!" With blinding white fury coursing through her veins, her hand had flown at his face before she could even register what had happened. Only the resonating sound of it colliding at full force with his cheek had clued her in. That and the icy flash of pure indignation he had thrown back at her while wiping the tiny speckle of blood from the corner of his mouth. Yet, it had not deterred her from her anger. "Wait until my husband hears of your traitorous behavior. He will never stand for it and you will know…"

She had not been able to finish her sentence. In a split second, he had pounced on her, pushing her backwards against the wall. With a gleeful snicker, he had brought his face millimeters from her own.

"Oh I know exactly what I will know." The crazed gleam that had appeared in his eyes at that moment had turned her fiery blood to ice, the innuendo in his statement becoming clear.

NO! HE WOULDN'T DARE!

How wrong she had been…

Before she had been able to react, he had brought his hand over her mouth while the other reached beneath her nightshirt, eager to touch her delicate and most sacred skin.

Horror had struck her as she felt his hot breath, laced with the unmistakable scent of ale, on her neck as he pressed himself against her, his hardened manhood grinding painfully against her sensitive stomach. Reacting on impulse, she had sunk her teeth into the hand that was covering her mouth, biting down with ferocity.

He had yelped in pain and released her momentarily, allowing her to rush past him in an attempt to escape his madness. But he had recuperated from the shock of her bite very quickly – much too quickly to her own liking – and unwilling to let such a worthy prey escape his clutches, he had launched himself after her, managing to catch her near the bed.

"So you like to play rough? Fine by me. I will give you rough. I can handle my whores. You will be no different."

She had wanted to retort that she was no whore but he had thrown her down on the bed and climbed on top of her to restrict her movements. With one swift move, he had reached for the nightshirt and promptly pulled it towards him, ripping it from her body, exposing the flesh of her breasts.

"I must give him that, he sure knows how to pick a beautiful woman." With heat swarming her cheeks, she had tried to cover herself with her arms to preserve her dignity but he had stopped her. "No need to be so modest. Everyone knows you are the Great Whore."

"HELP! SOMEONE, H…" He had once again covered her mouth quickly with his bleeding hand.

"Hush with you, sweetling. You will enjoy this, I promise." Tears had gathered in her eyes, burning, as he had proceeded to remove his doublet, realization that in her weakened state following the birth of her son, she was most likely to suffer the most horrible fate a woman could possibly be subjected to. Bracing herself for the inevitable, she had not heard the door open and another woman enter.

"Dear brother, I was wondering what was taking you so long to return to…" The sweet voice had abruptly stopped.

Realizing someone else was in the room, she had felt a renewed surge of hope and whipping her head to the side, she had looked into the face of the intruder…only for that hope to evaporate instantly. Her attacker had still not moved off of her, keeping his hand firmly on her mouth.

"Sister, I would be eternally grateful if you turned around and walked out of here, pretending you didn't see anything. I will be with you as soon as I am finished with our little plan." Much to her horror, the other woman had nodded and turned to leave.

I will not go down without a fight, she had thought. Curse you and your horrible family! In an ultimate surge of self-preservation, she had brought her right knee upward with the last of her strength, colliding with his ribs violently.

The shock of the attack had taken the man by surprise, enough to dislodge him from her and he had fallen off the bed in pain, a string of expletives escaping his mouth.

At the sound of her brother's voice, the woman had turned back around only to see her rush out of the bed.

"STOP HER! Do NOT let her escape!"

Obeying her brother, the woman had closed the door behind her and stepped in front of it, blocking the only way out of the room. Still shaken from the vicious attack on her person, she had swallowed her pride and uttered the last words she ever thought she would say to the other woman.

"Help me, please."

To add further shock, the sister of her attacker had simply laughed in her face.

"I don't think so."

"How DARE you?" she had then roared. "I knew you were nothing but a pale wench snake but to refuse aid to your Mistress, who has been attacked under your roof by your own kin, is treason!"

"Treason? I see this as poetic justice. You are only reaping what you sowed. And, after tonight, I will never fear you again for you will be nothing and have no more power. You are finished." Turning towards her brother, who had still been writhing in pain on the floor, she smiled. "Toughen up, get up, have your fill and arrange for her disposal. I will put our plan in motion as soon as you join me in my bedchambers to discuss our next step."

With that bland dismissal and clear indication as to her fate after this horrible night, she had seen red. In a last-ditch attempt to save her life, she had rushed at the other woman, intending to tackle her out of the way of the door and make her escape. But the blonde traitoress had anticipated her move and grabbed a candlestick… It was the last thing she had seen before everything went black.

The Duchess of Orkney's eyes snapped open and she sprung into a sitting position on the bed, her heart racing and sweat trickling down the back of her neck. A small cry escaped her dry lips.

Almost immediately, one of the ladies of her household rushed to her side.

"My Lady! What is the matter?"

Still too shaken by her dream, she could not answer. Tears spilled forth from her eyes, much to her dismay.

Recognizing the distress her mistress suffered from, Baroness Eleanor Fraser stood there for a few minutes and waited until the Duchess had taken a few deep breaths and calmed down.

"My Lady, do you want me to fetch Lady Lockhart?"

"It won't be necessary. I simply had nightmares. I will be fine."

"Are you sure, my Lady?"

"Yes. You may return to your bed, Mistress Fraser."

As soon as the woman left her inner bedchamber, she reclined onto her pillows. Her heart still hammered loudly inside her chest. Then, she realized what day it was.

It has been a year today.

It had been a year since the attempt on her life…an attempt that had almost succeeded and torn her life, as she knew it, asunder.

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Hampton Court, London, England

20 May 1537

King Henry Tudor VIII had been riding with anticipation and exchanging pleasantries with his childhood best friend, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk and his brother-in-law, George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford, when suddenly, someone had interrupted Brandon's latest jest.

"Smoke! Smoke on the horizon! Over Savernake Forest!"

"Isn't Wolf Hall in that direction?" another of his groomsmen had questioned.

His heart had stopped. Wolf Hall… Their destination… Where his Queen, his most beloved wife Anne, had been brought urgently the previous day, once her water had unexpectedly broken while enjoying one last day out before she was to enter her confinement for the remaining three to four weeks of her pregnancy… Where his newest child – son or daughter – had been born in the late hours of the evening…

To his left, Anthony Knivert had appeared.

"Majesty. My Lords. I suggest we quicken our pace. A simple fire wouldn't produce that much smoke and…"

He had not had the chance to finish his sentence. Henry had dug the heels of his boots in his horse's ribs, causing it to spring forward in a swift gallop. Behind him, his retinue had followed suit.

A whirlwind of leaves and trees had flashed in his vision but he had not noticed. His mind had been focused on one thing and one thing only. Getting to his wife…

Anne!

Her name had kept echoing in his head, more frantically each second that passed. A knot had formed in the pit of his stomach and his blood ran cold with fear. He had barely heard Charles calling to him from behind.

"Majesty! Majesty! Henry!"

He had refused to stop, the urgency of getting to his wife pulsing within his veins and preventing his muscles from stopping the furious gallop of his steed.

It hadn't been long before a tickle in his throat had forced his brain to snap and register he'd been inhaling smoke. That's when he had become aware of the scenery he'd been quickly approaching and brought his horse to a screeching halt.

The cold grips of fear had trapped his heart even further.

The magnificent residence that had been Wolf Hall only just a few hours ago was now nothing more than a smoking mound of ash and wood still being licked by flames.

NO!

"Henry." Suffolk's voice had reached his ear at the same moment he had felt his friend's hand on his shoulder.

"WHAT?" he'd unwillingly snapped.

"Look." To their right, Thomas Seymour had approached him, followed by several other men and women.

"Your Majesty," they had curtseyed and bowed.

"What happened here?" George had echoed one of the questions on his mind. A young woman had answered.

"As you can see, my Lord Rochford, a fire has claimed our beloved childhood home."

"I am not stupid, woman. I can see that. What I am enquiring about is how did it happen?"

Henry had not heard a single word that had been said.

"Where is her Majesty, the Queen? Where is my wife?" Silence had befallen the group as soon as the words had left his mouth.

The grip on his heart had tightened even further.

"Answer the King, you peasant fool!" Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, had snapped, his patience running dangerously thin.

"Your Majesty, her Majesty is…" A loud wail had interrupted him. Everyone's eyes had darted to one of the blonde ladies walking to them, holding a squirming tiny infant in her arms. Elizabeth Seymour.

"My Lords. Your Majesty," she had said respectfully, foregoing the usual curtsy due to the child she was carrying, and had approached Henry, handing him the baby. "God has been merciful and blessed England with a strong and healthy Prince, at long last."

Henry's brain had registered the implications behind her words instantly. Anne, whose honor to introduce their newborn child to him belonged to, wasn't here to do so. It could only mean that… His heart had simply sunk, breaking into a million tiny pieces.

Beside him, the same knowledge had flooded through George's mind.

"NO!" the young man had yelled, taking a few steps forward only for Brandon to step in front of him and prevent him from moving further. "You're lying!"

"As much as it pains me to say the words, my Lord, the Queen – God bless her eternal soul – was taken from us this night by the flames that wrought this destruction on our home. Nobody, aside from everyone present here, could have possibly survived."

Charles' head had snapped back to the younger Seymour daughter at that.

"Then how come you, your brother and this handful of servants did?" he had snarled, risking a look at Henry. Thomas had answered in her stead.

"We were the first awoken by the smoke, my Lord Suffolk. Despite the flames having already spread considerably, I sent my sister to safety and rushed to the master bedchamber to retrieve our royal guest. The Queen only had time to entrust me with the Prince's safety and hand him over before the roof collapsed in, trapping her inside. She begged me to run and save the child. I tried to reason with her but she would not listen, insisting there was no time to spare. 'An heir cannot be replaced, Master Seymour. A wife can. Go and save the King's son!' she said."

Henry had still been rooted in place, his baby son squirming in his arms, staring at the destruction and desolation before him. He had heard Seymour's explanation but his brain had still been stuck on the horrible truth; his beloved Anne was gone. The iron grip that had taken hold of his heart since the smoke had been spotted over Savernake Forest became vicious, sucking the joy and happiness over finally having a perfectly healthy male heir right out of him.

"I wanted to save her," Seymour continued, oblivious to the turmoil and agony raging inside his sovereign. "Everything in me screamed to find a way to save Her Majesty as well, as was my duty, but she would not stop pleading with me to go. So, I did. I ran out as fast as I could, determined to hand over the Prince to Elizabeth and go back in the inferno but Mister Zouche and Mister Slater here would not allow me. 'Master Seymour, it is far too dangerous and far too late. Surely, the staircase is no more by now.' They were right and dragged me out while the fire consumed my family's beloved ancestral house. We could hear the screams and agonizing cries from all the way here…"

The more Thomas continued on, the whiter Henry and George's faces had become. Charles had noticed and raised his hand.

"That is quite enough. Sir Knivert," he had motioned to his friend "please, ride to Great Bedwyn and inform Sir Hugh Graham that he is to host the King and his retinue as guests for the night. Also, ask him to take in the surviving members of the Seymour household for the foreseeable future and…"

Henry was startled awake, his heart hammering furiously within his chest. It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust to the darkness of the room.

"Anne…" Her name escaped his lips as a murmur as his eyes burned with unshed tears.

A year, he realized…today marked a year to the day since the true love of his life had been taken away from him… A year since his heart had shattered beyond repair and its remnants locked behind an impenetrable wall of ice, the only rays of sunlight able to bypass it being his children. He closed his eyes.

"Anne…oh my love…"

Images of her devastatingly charming smile, her sapphire blue eyes – hooks to the soul – and her shiny raven black hair danced behind his eyelids, setting his heart ablaze. She had been the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes upon. No matter what had been going on, whether they had been arguing, making love or simply presiding over their court, Anne had always been beautiful. Not even the aftershock of labor had taken away from her beauty. She had been like a shining star and like them, she had left an permanent mark in the world.

"How I miss you, my own sweetheart…"

Tears now fell freely on his cheek, his grief finally finding release…

"Henry? What is the matter?"

The voice, sweet and gentle, acted like thunder and immediately caused his heart to shut down once more, the ice hardening anew. Swiftly wiping his face, he cleared his throat.

"Nothing. I simply had a cramp in my leg. It has passed. Go back to sleep, Jane." Her eyes searched his for a moment before she simply turned around.

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If you are interested, I recommend checking out 'The Secret' by Adam Hurst on youtube to get an idea of what music inspired me to write these two scenes. Music inspires me a lot. Thought I would share.