An Endless Supply Of Rubies

Act if Succession II

Fanfic: An Endless Supply of Rubies Ch 7, Tudors | FanFiction

A/N: According to history, Anne Boleyn delivered a stillborn baby in July of 1534 and by Christmas, Henry was in discussion with Cranmer and Cromwell on if he could leave her without returning to Catherine. This chapter follows the events as they happened in the show. However, the passage of the Act of Succession that states Henry and Anne's children as rightful heirs will be in accordance with history (23 March 1534) and separate from the Act of Supremacy (introduced November of 1534 and enacted in early 1535).

5 April 1534

Despite the fact that her husband had been gone for a few days, Anne was still happy. She thought her daughter was one of the most beautiful creatures on the planet, and looked forward to arranging her marriage one day. Elizabeth still fussed, but Anne was confident that she would grow out of that.

As she went to feed her daughter, a voice rang out. "What are you doing?" it asked.

Anne looked up, startled, as her ladies murmured a greeting to Henry and curtsied. "May I not feed her from my own breast?" Anne asked.

Henry shook his head. "Queens, don't do that," he replied, "especially not for a daughter. Give her back to her wet nurse." He took Elizabeth out of Anne's arms and cradled her. Anne couldn't help but wonder if he had loved Amelia as a baby as much he seemed to love Elizabeth. For some reason, her mind kept circling back to the girl. Anne hated how Amelia seemed to have a grip on her mind without even trying to. Amelia wasn't even present at court!

"The princess will shortly be given her own establishment at Hatfield," Henry continued, much to the delight of Anne. "Among others, the Lady Mary will attend and wait on her."

"Catherine's daughter?" Anne questioned, keeping her voice low to conceal her anger. In her obsession over Amelia, she had nearly forgotten about Henry's oldest daughter.

"Yes," He replied, setting Elizabeth down. "It is well that she knows her new place."

"What about the Lady Amelia?" Anne asked. If one bastard had to care for the princess, then maybe the other would have to as well.

"The Lady Amelia has her own child to worry about," Henry responded. "She gave birth to a boy four days ago, John Brandon." A smile filled his face. He took great pride in the fact that he had a grandson, even if it was by one of his now-illegitimate children.

Anne took a step closer to Henry, her gaze unwavering. "I will still give you a son," she whispered. "Come soon my darling, to my hot bed."

Anne could feel that Henry's attention was no longer on her. As soon as he had left, tears began to fall from her eyes. She believed that she had lost him. Not even a year as Queen consort and she believed that her husband was gone. She turned and noticed Lady Eleanor Luke behind her. Could it be that he had taken a mistress? Anne almost immediately dismissed this thought in her head. Her ladies had sworn an oath of loyalty to her. They would not betray her.

Amelia was now totally out of her control. She had a husband who loved her, a father who cared about her, and a son. Amelia was untouchable, or so Anne thought.

It nearly killed Charles to say good-bye to Amelia and return to the palace with the King. He wanted nothing more than to be near his son and his wife, but the King had demanded he return and submit to the Act of Succession. He did not want to go, especially if the purpose was to submit to an act that declared Anne's children legitimate and his own wife a bastard. Amelia insisted that he go and submit.

"If this is what the King wants, he will do whatever necessary to ensure that he gets it," Amelia reminded him. Charles did not want to see anything happen to his wife or his child. With one last kiss for his wife and one for his son, he rode back to London.

After Charles had publically submitted to the King, Henry required him to stay for court business. After all, Charles was Lord President of the Council, and his absence was noted.

"Your Grace," Thomas Boleyn called out while Charles was walking towards the Council Chambers. "I hear that congratulations are in order."

Charles nodded, thanked him, and continued walking. He was late.

Thomas did not mean what he had said. In fact, his hatred for the Duke of Suffolk grew. Now the King had a grandson. If Anne did not deliver him a son soon, then all would be lost. Somehow, he had to remove Amelia and her son completely from Henry's mind as suitable heirs to his throne.

2 May 1534

Amelia returned to court on her 17th birthday, holding her tiny, month-old son in her arms. Even though she was nothing but a bastard, ladies at court cooed over the bright-eyed boy, commenting how he had the King's eyes.

Mary Boleyn was especially excited to see Amelia. Lately, she had become slightly baby-crazy, was very pleased to meet the new baby. Her eyes had widened and she had gasped when she saw the infant, and she had held him oh so carefully in her arms.

"Is he a good baby?" she asked. "Before they sent the princess to Hatfield, she would cry through the whole night. You could never get her to stop."

Amelia smiled. "John has been very good so far. He hardly ever fusses, and he's not colicky at all," she replied.

Mary handed John back to Amelia as the Queen approached them. Both women curtsied to Anne. "It is wonderful to see you back at court, Lady Amelia," Anne said with a forced smile on her face. Inside, her hatred grew stronger at seeing the smiling teenager holding the King's only grandson.

"I am glad to be back, Your Majesty," Amelia replied. "Would you like to hold my son? His name is John Henry Brandon, and one day he will be the Duke of Suffolk after his father."

Anne nodded, and Amelia placed the boy in the Queen's arms. Oh, how the Queen wanted to drop the infant right then and there. That way, there would be no more grandsons to challenge Elizabeth and her future siblings. The motherly instinct inside her screamed not to. Anne had to admit that the tiny baby was precious, and that his eyes were the same as the King's. The more she looked at them, the more she hated him. He was too innocent and adorable for her to hurt.

Eventually, the Queen handed the baby back and swept off, leaving Amelia and Mary to curtsey in her wake.

Christmas, 1534

Amelia was delighted to be back at court for the Christmas feast. Her young son was now nearly eight months old. He was able to sit on his own now, and enjoyed clapping his hands. He babbled happily and constantly smiled. Overall, John was a happy baby, and the Brandons were proud parents.

"Charles," Henry greeted, opening his arms. He embraced the taller man. "Happy Christmas!"

"And to Your Majesty," Charles replied. "I have a gift for you."

Henry was intrigued. "Where is it?" he asked.

Charles turned and gestured behind him. There was Amelia. Even though she had been living in the palace for the past few months, the King had hardly had time to see her. He had been busy with Scotland and the Act of Supremecy, and barely had time for his own wife, let alone his bastard daughter.

She had grown more mature since he had last seen her. The baby that rested on her hip most certainly had. He had a wide smile on his face, excited by all of the sounds and colors of the court at Christmas. When he saw the king, his chubby arms reached for him, as if he knew that Henry was his grandfather. Henry couldn't help the laugh that escaped from his lips as he took the boy from his daughter. John gurgled and laughed along with his grandfather.

"He is perfect," Henry stated.

Amelia nodded. "I am very happy you think so, father," she replied. She stepped closer to her husband and grasped his hand. "In fact, I am with child again."

Henry was elated, and embraced his daughter tightly. She had given him a grandson, and now he might give her another.

Thomas Boleyn watched these interactions with great curiosity. When his own daughter told Henry that she was pregnant while dancing, he simply embraced her. There was little more to his reaction. If Anne failed to give him a son, then all would truly be lost. It seemed Amelia could do no wrong, but Thomas certainly could.