A/N: Welcome to our story! It's a major AU and inspired by The Godfather movies. This is by no means a history biography, just something fun and different. If AU's aren't your cup of tea, then please don't read. If they are, we hope you will enjoy!

Katherine Tudor was pacing nervously through the completely white and sterile corridor at London Bridge Hospital. A characteristic, sharp smell filled her delicate nostrils. She was furious. Her four–year old daughter had been playing on the playground with her older siblings and after some time the little girl unfortunately had fallen and twisted her wrist. Katherine desperately had wanted to inform her husband but he hadn't responded when she had called.

Business, business, business. Henry Tudor was totally fixated on his businesses, a set of exclusive, horribly expensive hotels and a few illegal casinos where men that belonged to the British underworld usually indulged in their addiction to gambling.

"Calm down, Kate. Everything is going to be fine." Mary Brandon, Katherine's sister-in-law and best friend had come closer and offered her a styrofoam cup of warm, fragrant coffee.

"Of course, everything is going to be fine, at least with my injured little girl but I'm not certain about my crumbling marriage," the older woman responded and took a sip of the hot drink.

"To be honest, I have no idea what to say. I can only tell you that you are the one who decided to tie your life to this bloody business. It's not like I'm defending my older, absolutely stupid brother but..."

"I see. Don't worry, darling, I will cope with it on my own."

While the two sisters-in-law were talking to each other two small boys were sitting on the hospital's chairs. The eldest one, twelve-year old Edward was reading a book on his Kindle, while his younger brother Owen was playing a game on a mobile phone and waggling his legs.

Edward seemed to be entirely occupied with his Kindle but it wasn't the truth: the child was very smart and clever, definitely above the average. He knew. He knew that between his parents something had been wrong for a long time. Mary and Owen didn't care. They were too young, too silly, too naive.

Daddy's pearl was entirely doted on by her father, so was his brother. For Mary, Henry Tudor was a perfect man. The man of her little heart who pampered his princess at every turn.

Owen always said that he wanted to be like their father. Bold, strong and relentless.

Such a pity – Edward thought – none of them are aware of the fact that our caring and loving father is a mobster. A murderer, a sophisticated murderer always dressed in a luxury suit.I will never be like him! I will never be a ruthless killer! - the boy swore to himself and then returned to reading.

Meanwhile, Katherine nursed her cup of coffee, savouring the feel of its warmth against the palms of her elegant, feminine hands. Her conversation with her sister-in-law had soothed her nerves enough that she no longer felt the urge to pace the corridor anymore. She glanced over at her boys, making sure that they were okay, as she caught sight of her brother-in-law Arthur and his wife Anne Tudor nee Boleyn hurrying down the corridor towards them.

"Kate, sister, how's little Mary doing?" Arthur asked the two women, coming to a standstill before them with his wife by his side. The dark-haired couple wore matching expressions of concern on their handsome faces. The sight was touching of course, and comforting but Katherine felt a bitter laugh bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Mary's uncle shows more concern for her than her own father, who didn't even bother to answer his phone. The laugh was dangerously close to escaping her lips but the redhead pushed it down, stifling its momentum. While he waited for her response Arthur greeted his sister Mary, giving her a kiss on the cheek, his wife Anne giving her sister-in-law a quick hug.

"She's fine, a little shaken up from the fall at the playground, and she needs to wear a cast for her wrist for a few weeks. Did you get in touch with Henry?" Katherine asked, wondering if Arthur had had better luck in reaching Henry than she had.

Katherine watched as Anne pursued her lips in disapproval at the mention of Henry, before she fixed her gaze on Arthur. Her brother-in-law was handsome with his light brown hair and cheerful brown eyes that were almost always twinkling with amusement. He was a little shorter than his older brother, and always dressed casually in comparison to Henry, who preferred tailored designer suits over crisp polo shirts and jeans.

He gave her an apologetic look. "You know my older brother, Kate. Always occupied with business. He didn't answer when I called, but I made sure to leave plenty of angry voicemails."

Katherine didn't know why she had bothered asking when she knew what the answer would be.

"Did you reach Charles, sister?"

Mary Brandon shook her head. "No, he must be with Henry."

Anne placed a gentle hand on Katherine's shoulder, the gesture meant to be reassuring but Katherine could feel her anger at Henry bubbling to the surface again. "Everything is going to work out, Kate. Why don't Arthur, Mary and I take the boys home and watch them for you until their sister is ready to be released? They look like they could use some rest." They all turned to look in the boys' direction. Edward and Owen had become distracted from their Kindle and mobile phone and were looking at their relatives with tired curiosity.

Katherine nodded her head in agreement. "Thank you, Annie," she said, giving the younger woman a soft smile in gratitude. Mary and Anne walked off to prepare the boys for their departure.

Arthur leaned over and gave his sister-in-law a quick departing peck on the cheek. "Give him hell, Kate. He deserves it." There was a slight sparkle in his eyes, meant to lift her mood.

"Thank you, Arthur."

The clock on the ornate mantelpiece struck midnight, it's chime echoing around the elegant living room, empty of it's usual inhabitants except for one. With the lights dimmed, Katherine sat upright in a sleek, leather armchair, her spine straight with anger. The force of that powerful emotion had still not lessened, even hours later. Arthur, Anne and Mary had left hours ago, the children were soundly asleep in their warm beds. Katherine was sure that as tired as they were they must have gone out like lights as soon as their little heads had hit the pillows. Her eyelids were heavy with fatigue and stress but she was waiting for something, her ears carefully tuned to the sounds in and around the house, ready to pick up the faintest signs of a new arrival. But she did not have to wait long.

Ah, there it was. The characteristic and unmistakable sound of a BMW pulling into their driveway, filling the dim living room with bright light for an instant before the headlights were cut off and the engine shut off. A door was slammed, interrupting the stillness of the night, and there was a brief moment of silence before she heard masculine footsteps outside of the front door, and keys jingling in the lock. There was a click and a pause. Katherine did not move a muscle. She was seated with her back to the front door. The door opened quietly, designer dress shoes crossing the threshold. A light switch was casually flicked up, suddenly illuminating the dim room without giving Katherine's eyes enough time to adjust to the contrast. The man of the hour had arrived.

"Kate."

The sound of her name being spoken in that deep, rich voice caused something in her to snap, that anger that had been present at the hospital and before he had arrived was brought back to the forefront. She still did not turn to face her husband.

"Kate, look at me."

He knew she would be angry, but did not anticipate this. Katherine always greeted him when he came home.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words were enough to break her rigid passivity. She finally turned to look at him. Henry Tudor, the businessman and elegant mobster was dressed in his sophisticated, tailored designer suit, an expensive gold watch sitting on his wrist, a crisp cobalt blue tie around his neck. Everything about him screamed success. Danger. Power. Only she could see the exhaustion in his icy, blue eyes, the price that was paid for being the boss, the King of the criminal underworld.

"You're sorry?" A slight edge had crept into her measured tone. Katherine fixed her piercing gaze onto him. "What are you sorry for? The fact that your daughter kept asking where her father was the entire car ride home and I didn't know what to say to her?"

Henry winced slightly. The action was barely perceptible, without careful observation it could have passed for a facial tic. Damn her for making him feel more guilty than he already did!

"I had urgent business to attend to, Kate. You know that I can't just step away," he told her, working hard to keep his tone even but he could feel his famous temper beginning to flare up. She knew this, they had been married for years, and now he had to explain himself to her? Now? After all this time?

That careful composure she had worked hard to keep finally slipped, and she jumped up from the armchair, coming closer to her husband. Her usually calm blue eyes now held a fire in them. "Business, business, business! Is that all you care about anymore? You're hardly ever home."

"You knew what I was when you married me, Kate," he spat, venom dripping from his words, his voice rising higher with anger.

She laughed, a short, bitter sound, dying out as soon as it had sprung up. "Yes, and I married you anyway. But you were different then. Less fixated on business. You were actually here, present, by my side."

Henry turned away from her in frustration, breathing an irritated sigh. He had heard enough. But his wife wasn't finished just yet.

"You are the King of the underworld but does being King of the damned mean you have to sacrifice our children's well-being? Our marriage?"

He whirled around to face her again, his features settled into a cold mask, his previous anger dissipating.

"If I'm the King of the damned, doesn't that make you the Queen, darling?"

Before Katherine could answer they both heard the creaking of a floorboard, and turned their heads in the direction of the sound. It was Edward. They had been so caught up in their argument they had not realized how loud their voices had risen, waking Edward from his slumber. For the child's part he looked as if some suspicion he had possessed earlier had been proven correct. He had known all along. He had been right after all. Something is very wrong with his parents' marriage. His mother was hurting and it was his father's fault.

Katherine quickly regained her composure, not wanting her child to see her in such a state. She walked over to her son, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing up, darling? Let's get you back to bed."

Edward very reluctantly looked away from his father and allowed himself to be lead back to his bedroom, leaving Henry to stand by himself in the living room, watching the two of them depart. He brought a hand up and scrubbed his face, releasing a frustrated breath. He had screwed things up badly, hadn't he?

After a few moments, he walked into the hallway, on his way to their bedroom at the end of the hall, before deciding he had someone he needed to see first. He made his way to the first bedroom on the right, and gently pushed the door open. His little princess was sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed with her pink covers pulled up over her petite sleeping form, a matching pink cast wrapped around her delicate, injured wrist. The sight filled him with pinpricks of guilt. He should have been there with her today. Henry slowly approached the bed, being careful not to wake his child. He leaned over and placed a kiss, as light as a butterfly, on her pale forehead. "I promise I will make this up to you, Mary," he whispered. The little girl stirred briefly, the only response his whispered promise had elicited but it was not enough to cause her to wake. Earning back the favor of a child was no difficult feat. Now, if he only knew how to earn Katherine's forgiveness.

Katherine was lying under the silk, cream-coloured duvet when Henry got out of their personal bathroom which was connected to the bedroom. Only the lamp on Henry's side of the bed illuminated the entire space. His wife was hermetically covered with her sheets like a caterpillar in it's cocoon. Henry sighed deeply, taking off his elegant, green robe as flippantly as always, the smooth fabric landing on the floorboard. After that he slipped under the covers. Dreadful silence filled the room for a long while. Katherine didn't move even an inch from her position. Henry glimpsed at her, then laid down, facing his wife's back. He gently touched her feminine body with his big, masculine, but still smooth palms. Henry shifted in Katherine's direction, hugging her tightly.

"Kate, my precious Kate," he said in a whisper, filling the void of that ominous night. "My love, you and the children are the most important people in my life. I will do everything in my power to make you happy again. I screwed up, I'm well aware of that irrefutable fact. I should have been there for our little girl but I couldn't leave the meeting and the best doctors in London took care of her. She was with you and my sister." Henry finished his long monologue, not getting a response. The redhead remained unmoved.

"Please, give me a chance to fix it. Let me earn your forgiveness, your favour back." Henry started to explore Katherine's slender form, trying to reach her breasts. "I will give you great pleasure, as always," he whispered in a low, passionate voice, brushing away shiny strands of hair from her beautiful face and gently bitting a delicate earlobe. Katherine turned around vigorously in order to look at the love of her life. The man who had been notorious in breaking his promises.

"Your joke isn't funny, honey," she told him in a sarcastic tone.

Henry scoffed. "I'm not jesting, darling. I want to make you feel good," he responded, smiling widely, then trying to kiss his wife on the mouth. Mrs. Tudor immediately pulled back, her pink lips forming a tight line, clenching her teeth.

"No, Henry, it isn't for me, it's for you. You always do things for your own personal pleasure. How is it that you weren't at your own kid's birthday party – you promised to be on time and didn't even show up – but you're ALWAYS ready for sex! And I don't have to remind you about Mary's accident and your lacking presence." Katherine was enraged, daring to shout at the boss of the underworld.

"Don't start with me, Katherine," he said to her in a vicious whisper. It was a kind of warning. Nobody dared to mess with Henry Tudor! Of course, except for his courageous, charming wife. "I'm doing my best to please you, to repair my mistakes and you don't even appreciate my efforts!"

"You're doing your best to please yourself, Henry. The fact that you bought an awfully expensive toy as a gift hasn't made anything up to Edward. Maybe it will work in Mary's case since she is a naive child but our children need a mother and a father that are together... at home." The sadness in her feminine voice was almost tangible.

Henry was angry with her, his handsome face turning red. "How can you blame me for this? Everything that I'm doing, I'm doing for you and our children! You're the daughter of a successful woman and a businessman, both of your parents were very busy with their businesses and yet you dare to make me feel guilty?!" Henry being as egoistic as always tried to get rid of his pangs of conscience.

"Neither of my parents were mobsters. They worked and earned their money fairly." A dreadful laugh escaped from Henry's mouth after she voiced that sentence. She had no idea what was wrong with her husband in that very moment but went on speaking anyway. "My parents were very busy, I admit that freely but they still did everything they could to find free time for us. I'm with our children all the time. I help them with their homework, bake cookies with them, put them to bed and take care of them when they're ill. And where are you, as a dad, Henry?" Katherine asked, not waiting for a frank response.

"I told you that you didn't have to work because I have enough money to provide for us all. You agreed with me, sweetheart," his deep voice was filled with venom, like that of a cunning snake. "I work so much so you can live like a fucking queen and our children can have anything they wish! I chose you as my wife, as my companion and I can't get some sympathy? Lots of women would kill to be in your shoes."

Utter resignation swept over Katherine's mind and body. "Yes. You're right. You chose me first. I didn't choose you," she said in a sorrowful tone and turned her back on him. He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. She rested her red head on her pillow and closed her eyes, recalling valuable memories from the past...

15 July 1998, Chelsea, London

It was a very warm and lovely night. In the luscious green gardens situated near their sumptuous residence Isabella and Ferdinand Trastamara had organized a great party for their closest friends and family, including their adult offspring and their spouses. It should be told that the famous couple had invited only the cream of London society. Beautiful women dressed in their wonderful, expensive gowns and distinguished men in tailored, sophisticated suits were dancing gracefully around the marvelous area.

Young waitresses and waiters dressed in their special uniforms were flowing around holding silver trays with extraordinarily precious glasses filled with delicious drinks. Different kinds of red and white wines, Scottish whiskey and the most expensive champagne in this perverse world.

The hosts of this excellent party had created a very interesting marriage almost thirty years ago.

To tell the truth, Isabella and Ferdinand were distant relatives, therefore their close relationship had caused controversy.

He had fallen madly in love with his gorgeous red-haired cousin and Ferdinand's father hadn't been against the idea of them being together. John Trastamara had been in fact a very greedy and soulless man. His children for him had been only pawns who he could use in his battle for power and money.

Isabella's family was well known for having a great fortune and her future father-in-law had been especially fond of the girl's inheritance.

In that way two extremely bold man with Spanish blood running in their veins had decided that their children had to marry in a hurry.

She loved him, he loved her and a great amount of money plus another great amount of money equaled a huge fortune.

His lordship(as he liked to think of himself) was sitting on a preciously crafted chair in his study. The room was furnished in an ancient, ostentatious way. A mahogany desk, an armchair made of a pale veal leather. Everything had been made precisely by a human's smooth hands. There were plenty of gorgeous trinkets and patterns carved patiently in a valued glass cabinet. Ferdinand was talking to his personal accountant and best friend, Eustace Chapuys. His grey marine suit jacket was flippantly slung over the chair. The first three buttons of his white shirt were carelessly undone and his silk tie,the colour of cold steel, was loosely placed around his neck.

"Oh, my friend, I feel that my time is coming. I'm bankrupt! I have a horrible headache. And all these people here! They are eating and drinking excessively, obviously at my cost! What should I do, Chapuys?" The older man asked his faithful companion, who was standing next to him as elegant as always, a pile of documents in his masculine hands.

"I told you once what you should do. I told you what you HAVE TO do," Eustace responded, a faint smile plastered on his face.

"No, I can't tell her. I can't disappoint my wife. She gave her entire fortune to me, do you understand? I would be dead. She would murder me with her bare, delicate hands, or simply with her blue eyes," Ferdinand went on and on.

"So, in response to your question: I have no idea what we should do. Maybe you should kill yourself before Isabella will?"

"Ha,ha,ha. I can't restrain myself from laughing! Don't try to be funny because you're not."

"As you wish. Now look at these invoices." The accountant leaned over the desk and put some documents on top of it."You bought a dress from Dior for one of your daughters, diamond earrings, a handbag from Prada, a necklace from Tiffany..." Eustace started to count but an impatient and nervous Ferdinand interrupted.

"Enough! That was my wife's doing! I hope that my suit wasn't as expensive as the last one," he whispered, completely helpless at that moment and then looked down at his trousers.

"That's Armani. The cheapest one! Only two thousand dollars," Chapuys said in an amused tone.

"Such a consolation, indeed..."

Ferdinand hadn't been in good condition financially for a few, long weeks. It was a miracle that Isabella hadn't noticed yet. Eustace just shrugged his wide, strong arms. "Be good and fetch me a glass of ale, wine, whatever. I'm going to drink until I'm dead. All problems are solved then." The younger man just scoffed in the direction of his best friend.

"I doubt that. I wish you hadn't gotten involved with Tudor. By the way I'm not your waitress to serve you like that. It would be degrading!"

The accountant was insolently laughing at the poor (literally at that very moment), highly confused businessman who had been almost as wealthy as an oligarch in the past. That past was merry, it must be admitted.

"I beg you, idiot! Shut your talkative mouth up! Otherwise I will fire you at once!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ferdinand. I haven't gotten MY wages which I have earned with my own bloody hands for TWO months. I'm working as a volunteer because you, my boss, messed up with the mobsters!"

It seemed that Eustace was in a very poor financial state himself as he had become incredibly sassy!

His superior flew into a rage. The older man's face became as red as spicy peppers. He looked at his wrinkled masculine hands which had started to shake as a result of his increasing anger. Ferdinand Trastamara was on edge. The large vein on his thick neck pulsated while his heart quickly pumped hot, Spanish blood.

"Get out of my sight! And you can forget about my daughter as a wife for your weak and hopeless son! She is a great match! Too great for your boy, as plain as..." Before he could finish his sentence, both of them heard a loud knocking at the door. The host tried to regain his regal composure, which he had mastered to pure perfection. Nevertheless, Ferdinand's legs were still trembling horribly under the desk. Meanwhile, Chapuys smoothed down the flaps of his black suit.

"Come in." The dark-haired man decided to invite the intruders inside. A few seconds later the massive, wooden door was flung widely open, a gleam of artificial light illuminating the study. Ferdinand noticed three masculine bodies dressed properly for the settled event. In front of them stood an old woman, the housekeeper, Elvira Manuel, dressed in her regular black dress and an apron which reached her plump breasts, simple frills on the edges, all as white as the snow during the winter season. Feminine, although extremely chubby palms were folded neatly before her rotund form.

"Mr. Henry Tudor, sir," the servant said, boldness in her official tone, waiting patiently for instructions.

Ferdinand became as pale as a corpse when he heard THAT name. His high forehead was immediately covered with a cold sweat when the three men emerged from the ominous darkness. He could barely swallow the lump that had clenched in his throat.

"You can go," he said to Elvira without looking at her. After the older woman's departure, the mobsters entered the room and the youngest one, George Boleyn, locked the door. Eustace Chapuys panicked, feeling the urge to run away as fast as possible. Ferdinand was completely focused on the light, incredibly intense blue eyes which belonged to a handsome and extremely dangerous man. The king of the underworld. He was as elegant as always in his characteristic, tailored designer suit, an expensive silk tie around his neck.

"Well, well, well. It seems I wasn't invited to this exclusive party. It's unfair, isn't it, gentlemen?"

Henry Tudor started to pace steadily through the study. Long arms were folded behind him. The heels of his rich, leather shoes hit soundly against the marble floor. He was looking straight ahead, not focusing on anything in particular.

George Boleyn and Charles Brandon didn't move. Malicious smirks were plastered on their faces.

Neither Ferdinand nor Eustace dared to say a word. They were completely frozen to the spot.

"We heard that you and your beautiful wife were hosting this elegant party, so I decided to take this opportunity in order to speak with you, my dear friend. As we both know, you have something that belongs to me, don't you?"

The old man couldn't breath. Henry Tudor went on, still pacing.

"Where is my cash?" The mobster asked calmly, in his deep, rich voice. But that was only on the surface. Those who knew him well would notice that he was angry. Ferdinand, who couldn't move, was aware of that undisputed fact.

"I'm bankrupt. I have no money in my pockets."

"And you think I should show you sympathy?All these people here, in your fucking gardens, are dining on my dime!" Tudor raised his voice, causing dreadful shivers to run down the spines of two very scared men.

"I have an idea!" Henry spoke aloud. He was behaving as if he were a madman, moving restlessly. He would fly into a rage and then two seconds later would regain his composure. At that moment a mad smile was glued on his handsome face and a forefinger was raised into the air as straight as a chord.

"As far as I know you're the father of four daughters. I saw the photos on the walls. Pictures, pictures everywhere! The younger man started to gesticulate in the air. "I must congratulate you, you have gorgeous children and a beautiful wife. And since you aren't a lonely, or sad man, I could take one of your daughters as a guarantee that I will get my money back. What do you think, my dearest friend?"

Enraged, Ferdinand rose from his seat which he had occupied thus far. He placed his palms on the desk.

"Keep your dirty hands off my family!" He said, without looking at his enemy.

Henry glanced at his smooth hands in amusement. His hit man, ready to take action, pulled out his gun from underneath his leather jacket and pointed it at Ferdinand's head.

"Watch your language, dear friend. And if it comes to your children.. the youngest one is unmarried, isn't she? I could take care of her. We could have a lot of fun together... in my bed, for example. Would she enjoy that kind of entertainment?" Tudor laughed ruthlessly in Trastamara's face. The dark-haired man dropped into his armchair, completely helpless and silent.

"Put away your toys, George. Our friend will think about my offer and in the meantime we will have fun at the party. I want to see your daughter's beautiful gowns which I financed. I'm curious about their tastes. And I hope that you bought at least a few bottles of Krug Clos d'Ambonnay, because as you know, I'm a great fan of that champagne. I would have as the perfect host. We will help ourselves and you can finish your interesting argument. Sorry for interrupting." Henry Tudor was done. After his hit man put away his gun, the three of them departed, not bothering to close the door.