An Endless Supply Of Rubies

His Majesty's Pleasure

Fanfic: An Endless Supply of Rubies Ch 9, Tudors | FanFiction

A/N: A History Lesson: According to the show, Henry tells Anne that they won't make an announcement about her miscarriage. This is due to the fact that Anne's miscarriage in June of 1535 was rumored and not recorded by all of the historians at the time.

26 January 1535

Amelia lay curled up in a ball on her side with her blankets pulled up around her chin, exhausted from the illness she had been battling. Her fever had eventually broken, and she was able to hold bread in her stomach. Physically, she felt much better, although she was still a little weak. But mentally, Amelia felt like she had come undone.

How could she have been so stupid? It was the question that went through her mind over and over. Why had she accepted it? Because she believed that it was one of her friends from court who had gone through morning sickness herself and felt pity. Because it was presented to her by someone wearing the uniform of a King's groom. Because she didn't want to be rude. Because she was hungry. It was a collection of things that led her to accept the fish pie.

She should have been more cautious.

It was now obvious to her that she had an enemy at court. But who? She had never spoken out against anyone nor had she started vicious rumors. Amelia didn't think that she came off as a particularly threatening person, especially since she was a bastard. She knew that her father loved and cared about her, but not enough to manipulate the law to make her still in the line of succession. Amelia believed that she was honestly no threat.

It dawned on her that she might not have been the intended target as her hand travelled over her now-empty womb. She was now without child. Charles had told her that it had been a boy, and then held her as she wept until she had no tears left.

Now the tears threatened to fall again. Someone had tried to murder her unborn son. Amelia now understood why she and John were to be sent back to Westhorpe. She rose from the bed slowly, her legs still shaky from a week of misuse, and began to pack her things with a heavy heart.

June 1535

Henry was numb. First, his eldest daughter had fallen ill. Then, his second daughter had been poisoned. Now, Sir Thomas More was refusing to sign the oath. And to top it all off, his wife had miscarried their child.

He managed to compose himself before walking into the Queen's chambers. Anne looked much like Amelia, pale and fragile, turned to the side so that she wouldn't have to face anyone. He stood at the foot of her bed for a moment, unsure of what to say. Her eyes stayed focused on the wall behind him.

"I lost the baby," she murmured. She was sad to the point that she was numb. Anne had done no wrong and done no harm. She loved her unborn child.

"Yes," replied Henry softly. "They told me." He paused, holding back the tears in his eyes and swallowing the lump forming in his throat. "We shall make no public announcement of the fact."

"No," Anne replied, so softly that Henry could barely hear her.

Henry smiled a sad smile. It killed him to see the woman he loved in a state like this. It had killed him with Catherine through her miscarriages, and with Amelia through hers. With Anne, he thought that his days of burying his stillborn children were behind him.

As he turned to leave, Anne whispered "thank you, Your Majesty." He stopped and started to turn back, but the tears that were threatening to spill over forced him to leave. He couldn't cry in front of Anne, not in the state that she was in.

Anne continued to lie in the bed. She believed that now, she had truly lost. The King still cared about her, she could tell, but love? She was unsure. Anne still loved her husband with all of her heart. She now believed that Amelia had won.

The worst part? Amelia wasn't even trying.

In public, Anne managed to compose herself. But in her own chambers, she had completely fallen apart. Now she stood in front of her mirror, drunk, smearing wine around her lips. George. She needed George. Where was George?

As if on cue, her brother arrived. She hoped that he was pleased with what he saw, with what he and her father had been pushing for.

"Sister?" he asked, approaching her slowly. He had never seen her like this before. He was used to Mary and Anne being strong, stubborn, and willfull. Now Mary was banished, and Anne seemed to have gone mad.

She took another sip of wine before turning to face him, staring at him as if she hadn't called for him. "I couldn't sleep," she answered, walking towards him. "I'm sorry."

"Why could you not sleep?" he questioned, a hint of concern edging into his voice.

Anne looked past him, as if she were staring at someone else. "I was thinking of them," she responded.

George leaned closer. She seemed to sway slightly as she stood, as if she were soon to fall over. "Who? Thinking of who?" he prodded gently.

She turned to him suddenly. "The Ladies Mary and Amelia, of course." How did her brother not know this? "And their mother." They were all Anne ever seemed to think about. She took another gulp of wine.

George's eyes followed her chalice with concern. "Catherine?"

"Yes, Catherine," she responded. How did her brother not see the obvious? "What's wrong with you?" she asked.

"I don't understand," he replied. Lady Mary and Lady Amelia had bothered her in the past, but they were gone now. Mary was a maid for his niece Elizabeth, and Amelia was away at Westhorpe. When his father had told him what he had done to her, George couldn't help but pity her. She was, in fact, a lovely person. Deep down, he wished that he had married her, not because his father pushed for it, but because he could see how lovely and kind she had been.

And Catherine? Rumor had it she was getting sicker by the day.

"What harm can they do you now?" he asked.

"Every harm!" Anne cried out, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "As long as Mary is alive, she could be Queen. As long as Amelia lives longer, she will follow as Queen, and then John will be King. Where does that leave MY daughter?"

"No, no, no," George responded, turning his sister who had wandered back to face him. "The Act of Succesion makes that impossible. Amelia herself even swore to it. Elizabeth, your daughter, will be made heir to the throne."

She shook her head as a smile spread across her face. "But the King can change his mind. He can do whatever he wills now. He has absolute power. You know that!" She thumped her younger brother's chest a few times to emphasis her last point. "And what he has given," she continued, crossing the room, "he can take away, and what taken away, he can give back!" Her arms swung wildly as she spoke. "And he could still make Mary or Amelia Queen, even above my daughter." At this point, she started to cry.

"But why should he?" George asked softly.

"I don't know, I just fear it!" Anne cried, rubbing her forehead. She decided that she might have had a little too much to drink. "This, I know of Mary and Amelia," she continued, turning to face her mirror again. "They are my death, and I am theirs."