Evermore

Chapter VII

Making Amends

Greenwich Palace, May 25, 1536

That night, a heavy sense of unease settled upon Mary as she lay awake in bed, pondering the weight of her decision to align herself with the woman who had shattered her world. She couldn't shake the fear that Anne might use her willingness to help reconcile with the Pope against her, a thought that gnawed at her. Anne, renowned for her cunning as much as her beauty, could easily accuse her of treason, and her father would likely believe her, potentially leading to Mary's execution. But even if Anne didn't betray her, Mary felt conflicted—she was betraying her own mother by siding with her stepmother.

The more she dwelled on it, the clearer it became that her father's love was no guarantee of her safety. His recent actions, sentencing Anne to death for failing to produce a male heir, illustrated how precarious her position truly was.

Despite the moral turmoil, Mary knew she had little choice but to forge this alliance for her own survival. As she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, visions of her mother haunted her, further unsettling her resolve.

The next morning, Mary was abruptly awakened by Anne's cheerful voice, signaling that the young queen had been churched early and was now free to move about the palace.

"Mary, dear," Anne said, pulling the covers off Mary, "we have much to do today."

Mary turned away momentarily, collecting herself. "Where is Elizabeth?" she asked, finding solace in her little sister's presence whenever Anne was around.

"She's in the gardens with my sister," Anne replied, approaching the window and drawing the curtains. "She's been asking for you all morning. It seems she's quite taken with you."

Mary smiled faintly, noticing Anne holding her newborn brother. "Shouldn't he be with his nursemaid?" Mary asked, knowing royal protocol dictated that a newborn prince be cared for by a nursemaid rather than his mother.

"No," Anne replied firmly, cradling the baby closer. "He's where he belongs."

"In your arms, where he's safest, I presume?" Mary remarked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she watched her brother nestle against Anne.

Anne nodded, her gaze drifting towards the window pensively. "I never understood your mother," she admitted softly, "but I think I do now—it took me a while. I intend to make amends, starting with taking care of you."

Mary, taken aback, protested, "Taking care of me? I'm not a child."

Anne's expression softened, and she placed a gentle hand on Mary's arm. "No, of course not," she said quietly, "but you're alone when you shouldn't be. You have a sister, a brother, and a stepmother who could... love you."

Mary struggled with conflicting emotions. She couldn't forget the pain Anne had caused her and her mother, yet a small part of her yearned for a familial connection. She didn't embrace Anne's gesture but didn't reject it outright either, hoping one day to find trust in her stepmother.

"Love me?" Mary retorted, anger simmering beneath her surface. "Have you forgotten what you did to my mother? The suffering you caused her?"

"I did it out of love," Anne defended herself, her tone defensive yet tinged with remorse. "I regret it deeply now, but it wasn't just me—it was my father, my uncle... I never wanted to marry your father. I tried to resist, but love can drive people to do unimaginable things."

Mary scoffed, unable to meet Anne's eyes. She struggled to reconcile the woman before her with the villain who had shattered her family.

"Listen to me, Mary," Anne insisted, stepping closer. "Your father is dangerous, surrounded by people who would do anything to win his favor, like the Seymours. We must protect your brother and watch our backs—"

"We can't live in constant fear," Mary interjected, glancing out the window where her father and Elizabeth played in the gardens.

Anne paused, considering Mary's words. "You're right," she conceded, a sly smile creeping onto her face. "We must show them we're not afraid. You, as the daughter of Katherine of Aragon and granddaughter to Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand, have a heritage that commands respect."

An idea sparked in Anne's eyes, and she continued, "We must make their lives miserable here, particularly the Seymours'. We could even tarnish someone's reputation."

"But won't they realize we're plotting against them?" Mary asked, her curiosity piqued.

Anne chuckled knowingly. "Let them speculate. As long as your brother lives, our actions will have no repercussions."

"You mean your actions and Elizabeth's?" Mary pointed out, a hint of bitterness in her voice. She knew her own position was precarious in her father's eyes, deemed dispensable after years of being branded a bastard.

"For now," Anne admitted, her voice softening. "Once you accept our alliance publicly, I will convince your father to reinstate you in the line of succession. You will be indispensable as a political pawn."

Mary sighed, realizing the strategic importance of Anne's plan. "I suppose you're right."

The two women wandered into the gardens in silence, for once finding solace in each other's presence amidst the palace's grandeur. They walked among the blossoming flowers and ancient trees, their footsteps echoing in the morning stillness.

Suddenly, Mary stopped in her tracks, eyes widening in shock. Her face drained of color as she stared ahead, aghast at what she saw.

"What is it, Mary?" Anne asked, concern flashing across her features.

Mary struggled to find words. "Oh God," she finally gasped, her voice trembling, "what have I just seen?"

The young queen followed Mary's gaze, her own expression turning from curiosity to horror. "Oh my God," she repeated softly, recoiling in disgust. "No... no..."

Mary grabbed Anne's arm urgently. "We mustn't be seen," she urged, pulling her away hastily.

Shocked and scandalized, the two women hurried back into the palace, where they were met with alarmed guards demanding an explanation for their distress. The young queen assured them all was well, attributing her discomfort to a sudden illness, while Mary mirrored her excuse, equally shaken.

In private, away from prying eyes, Mary pressed Anne, "We must tell the king. He needs to know."

Anne sneered bitterly. "Oh, he will know. His precious mistress has just done what he accused me of."

"So it's not true?" Mary asked, backing away, her relief palpable.

"Of course not," Anne insisted vehemently. "I swear it on my life. Without your brother, I would have faced a wrongful death."

Mary watched from a window as Jane and Edward Seymour returned from the gardens. "She's crying," Mary observed, her voice tinged with pity as she glimpsed the young blonde's distraught expression. "Her brother must have coerced her into this."

"May God have mercy on their souls," Anne murmured, joining Mary at the window.

"Mercy?" Mary scoffed, unable to suppress her anger. "Forced or not, they deserve no mercy. They deserve punishment, both from God and from the king."

"You're right," Anne agreed solemnly, her eyes narrowing with determination. "I need to speak to the king immediately, before Jane can weave her lies."

Anne gathered her skirts and hurried out of the chambers, intent on confronting Henry before Jane and Edward could concoct a deceitful scheme to deceive him.