⚠⚠⚠ DARK LAST SCENE READ WITH CAUTION ⚠⚠⚠

───── ❝ Chapter Twenty-Three ❞ ─────

Across the countries life in England was chaotic. Edward had returned for a short time but the court knew it would not be for long. Outside the castle walls, the people of England were putting up a fight. They had a queen in name, yet not one in the crown. Jane was doing her best to connect with the people, but the tension between her and the people was exploding.

In the early days of her marriage, Jane would dress in her finest gowns and venture into towns, her heart full of hope. She smiled and waved, genuinely believing that her kindness would win over the people. But as days turned to weeks, the cold stares and turned backs began to chip away at her optimism.

One particularly harsh day, as she watched a mother hurriedly usher her children away, something shifted within Jane. The rejection stung Jane deeply, though she tried not to let it show. These were meant to be her subjects. Yet without the crown upon her head, she was meaningless to them. Powerless. She maintained her smile, but her eyes hardened almost imperceptibly. That night, as she sat before her mirror, she studied her reflection with new eyes.

"Kindness alone will not win their hearts," she murmured to herself. "I must learn to play this game of power."

From that day forward, Jane's appearances in town took on a more calculated air. She still smiled and waved, but now she watched the crowd with keen eyes, noting who seemed sympathetic, who openly hostile. She began to tailor her words and gestures, testing what resonated with the people.

It was a subtle change, one that even Jane herself might not have fully recognized. But slowly, surely, the naive girl who had first stepped into the role of queen was giving way to a woman who understood the complexities of her position.. Yet the people stared back coldly, their faces etched in frowns. Some even turned their backs or hid their children from view.

One night Jane could not keep her emotions to herself and burst into Henry's audience chambers. Pushing the doors open she marched into the chamber where Henry was sitting at his desk signing documents, the scratching of his quill the only sound. Fearing an attack Henry leapt from his chair and almost drew his sword when he heard the door slam open.

Jane entered Henry's chambers, her posture rigid, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Your Majesty," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "might I have a word?"

Henry looked up from his desk, his quill pausing mid-stroke. "What is it now, Jane?" The weariness in his voice was palpable.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I couldn't help but notice that you've been... distant of late." The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken accusations.

Henry's jaw tightened. "I've been occupied with matters of state. Surely you understand the demands of ruling a kingdom."

"Of course," Jane replied, a hint of bitterness creeping into her tone. "And I suppose these 'matters of state' require you to avoid your wife's chambers night after night?"

Henry set down his quill with deliberate slowness. When he spoke, his voice was low and controlled. "Careful, Jane. You tread on dangerous ground."

"Do I?" Jane's laugh was hollow. "I thought I stood on the solid foundation of our marriage. But perhaps I was mistaken."

"Perhaps you were," Henry replied, his gaze cold. "Perhaps we both were."

The silence that followed was deafening. Jane's hands trembled at her sides, but she lifted her chin defiantly. "I see. Then perhaps Your Majesty would be so kind as to tell me what my role is to be in this... arrangement of ours. Am I to be your wife in name only? A pretty ornament to parade before the court while you..."

She trailed off, unable to voice her suspicions.

Henry stood, his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. "You would do well to remember your place, Jane. Queen or not, you serve at my pleasure."

"And what of your pleasure, Henry?" Jane asked, her voice barely audible. "Does it lie elsewhere these days?"

"Oh. So that is the reason. You're still in love with her. You love her, even though she has threatened you and held you captive." Jane spat the words like venom. "I see now. But the fact of the matter is this. You and I are married and your country needs a male heir that you so desperately talk about. I understand why you have refused to have me crowned, as you do not want your people to deal with a situation as they did with your previous wife. But for me to prove myself to you, our duties as a married couple must be done. I can not give you an heir without it."

Henry shook his head, his expression hardening. "Jane. I have other things to worry about than siring an heir."

"No, you do not, you need an heir to protect your country, without one now that Princess Margaret is dead, England is vulnerable. England has no heir, but Russia does." Jane threw out the painful truth, hoping to provoke a reaction.

Henry stepped towards her, his eyes blazing. "Jane, enough!"

But Jane refused to back down. This was her last stand. "No!"

"Jane, if you value your life, stay out of my affairs." Henry's threat hung heavy in the air.

Still, Jane persisted, her voice taking on a mocking tone. "Why. Why can the Russian Empress speak her mind around you but I, your wife, can not?"

At that, Henry saw red. In a second the sound of skin hitting skin echoed around the room. The force of the slap caused Jane to step back, gasping. She touched her cheek, already feeling the angry heat rising where he'd struck.

"Leave, Jane," Henry growled through clenched teeth.

With tears burning her eyes, Jane rushed out of the chamber and to her room, hiding in shame and embarrassment.

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Over the next few weeks, Jane kept to her chambers, not daring to show her face at court after such a humiliating scene. Servants brought her meals which went untouched, the despair robbing her of any appetite.

Jane spent her days staring out her window at the horizon, longing to be anywhere but within these castle walls that had become a gilded prison. She dreamed of a simple cottage by the sea, surrounded by flowers and trees. Of afternoons spent sewing in a patch of sunlight streaming through the window, a cat curled up nearby. The life of a peasant seemed infinitely better than the cold isolation of a loveless queen.

At night, her sleep was restless and broken. Her dreams tortured her with images of Henry and Adieya locked in passionate embraces. She'd wake with tears on her cheeks, salt stinging the cuts that now marred her heart.

As Jane walked through the corridors, she noticed the hushed whispers and sidelong glances from courtiers. They fell silent as she passed, their eyes following her with poorly concealed curiosity. She could almost taste the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, whenever she and Henry occupied the same space – which, mercifully, was becoming increasingly rare.

Edward had wisely not chosen to comment about it to any of the two rulers, but his brother could not keep his words to himself, yelling at Jane almost nightly about the embarrassment she had brought upon the family. The echoes of Thomas's rage reached her even through the heavy oak door of her chamber.

Then finally, one night as Jane picked at the supper her ladies had brought to her rooms, there was a lull in Thomas's fury. Seizing the chance, Jane walked swiftly to her writing desk, dipped a quill in ink, and penned a brief missive to the king requesting an immediate private audience. She slipped from her room and delivered the message directly to the guards outside Henry's chambers, pressing a gold coin into the palm of the most taciturn man. "For your discretion," she whispered.

The next evening, Jane walked with her head held high to Henry's private audience room, determined to take control of her fate. Henry sat in a gilded chair beside the fire, looking weary, reading a book in a language she did not know. His auburn hair seemed duller and grayer since she had last looked upon him. He had thick stubble coating his cheeks as if shaving had become a chore not worth the effort. So different from the dashing figure who had first courted her what seemed a lifetime ago. She waited just inside the doorway for several long moments until he let out a resigned sigh, carefully marked his page, and closed the heavy book.

"What do you want, Jane?" Henry asked tiredly, not quite meeting her eyes.

Jane clasped her trembling hands in front of her to still them. "I want a divorce," she stated plainly, not wanting to beat around the bush with courtly pleasantries and pretense. She had rehearsed the words in her mind a thousand times.

"Henry's bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"I wish to dissolve our marriage. To divorce." Jane repeated firmly, some tension leaving her body now that the words were said.

Henry leaned back in his chair, looking her over appraisingly. "On what grounds?"

Jane took a deep breath. This was her chance to regain her dignity and self-worth. "A marriage requires love, affection, and children to thrive. You have made abundantly clear you harbor none of those feelings towards me. I now know I am nothing but a political inconvenience to you, so I ask that you relieve us both of this burden." Her voice only trembled slightly, to her pride.

Henry considered her words for a moment before replying. "Very well. The papers will be drawn up by tomorrow afternoon. You are dismissed."

Jane let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. With a curt nod, she departed, feeling the weight lifting off her shoulders with each step.

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True to Henry's word, the divorce documents were prepared the very next day. He had his secretary summon Jane and her brother Thomas to his receiving chamber that afternoon. Thomas stood stiffly next to Henry's carved wooden throne as the king signed the parchments that would legally dissolve the marriage. Jane entered the room quietly, steeling herself for this final act.

Henry gestured to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who stepped forward with a roll of parchment. "Your Majesty," the Archbishop intoned solemnly, "here is the decree of nullity, declaring your marriage to Lady Jane void from the beginning."

Henry nodded, his face impassive. "Read it."

As the Archbishop's voice filled the chamber, Jane felt her world shrinking. This wasn't just a divorce - it was as if her marriage had never existed at all.

When the reading concluded, Henry took the quill first, his bold signature declaring the end of their union. Then, with a gesture that brooked no argument, he held the quill out to Jane.

She accepted it, silently cursing the way her hand trembled. Steadying herself, she carefully signed her name below Henry's, knowing that with each stroke, she was erasing her brief reign as Queen of England.

The Archbishop took the document, sprinkling it with sand to dry the ink. "It is done," he declared. "Copies will be sent to Rome, to the royal archives, and the Seymour family records."

Jane nodded numbly, understanding that in the eyes of the church and state, she was once again merely Lady Jane Seymour.

It was done. No turning back now.

"You have until tonight to gather your belongings and ladies. Return any royal jewels and gowns to the Master of Robes by sundown. You may keep the principal lady-in-waiting that was assigned to you when we married, however all titles you received by our marriage have now been forfeited by your agreement and you have relinquished your title as my wife and Queen, both in name and law. You have also forfeited the right to be addressed as 'Your Majesty' as the crown is no longer yours. Do you understand this?" Henry's tone was clipped and businesslike like a monarch concluding a transaction rather than ending a marriage.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you." Jane replied softly. And with that, it was done.

As soon as they returned to her chambers, Thomas exploded. His eyes turned nearly black with rage - a warning that his infamous temper was on the rise.

"You have cost this family everything!" Thomas snarled, spittle flying from his lips as he advanced towards her. Jane shrank back against the wall, terror rising in her throat. She had not seen his temper unleashed so violently before.

"Please, stop this! I had no choice!" Jane pleaded weakly, her heart hammering against her ribcage.

Thomas barked out a cruel, mirthless laugh. "You foolish girl! Our family is lost to the throne forever now thanks to your stupidity!" He swept a hand across the surface of her writing desk, sending quills and ornaments crashing to the floor. Jane flinched at the violence, cowering away from him.

"The crown was guaranteed to that foreign whore, it was always her! Now our hard-won influence at court, our privileges, everything we sacrificed for - it's all been for nothing!" Thomas raged.

Suddenly their father burst through the doorway after hearing from Henry what his daughter had done. Seeing Thomas cornering Jane, he rushed to put himself between them. "Thomas, stop! That is your sister."

Thomas whirled on his father. "Why should I, Father? Our family is lost to the crown now! It's already been guaranteed to the Russian bitch, it always has! Our reputation and standing are in ruins! Everything we have worked for is lost!"

Jane spoke up timidly from behind the chair she clutched between them like a shield. "Brother, please, it's not as dire as all that. You still hold the titles the king granted you. My reputation as a failed queen may suffer, but what of Edward and his standing?"

At the mention of his name, Edward appeared silently from the shadows, having slipped into the room unnoticed during the argument. "What of me?" Edward asked sardonically. "What of me, you ask?" Edward replied sardonically, meeting Jane's eyes with a knowing look. "Well go on then, let's hear this brilliant scheme you've concocted to regain power, sister."

Jane flushed under his mocking stare. "I...I thought perhaps you could secure me a position at the Russian court. You have the Empress's favor." She twisted her hands nervously, refusing to cower before Edward as she had with Thomas. The words came pouring out in a rush. "With your influence, you could persuade her to grant me some title, and I'm sure you must hold much sway—"

Edward cut her off with a scathing laugh. "You truly have lost your wits if you think I would debase myself so, begging scraps from the Empress's table to toss to you like a starving dog."

Jane drew back as if he had slapped her, tears of shame pooling in her eyes.

Edward continued ruthlessly. "Why ever would I grant you any authority in Russia, sister dear, when I know your motivations are tainted by jealousy and spite? If you desire power badly enough, you must earn it through your merit, not ride on my coattails.

However, with your failed marriage, you did what you could, what you had to do. I am sorry to break up your infatuation with our King, but whatever affection or interest he had for you during your courtship and your time as Eleanor Boleyn's lady was fleeting. His heart belongs to another now, whether you like it or not." Edward stated pragmatically.

Jane flushed, ashamed to have her naive affections so bluntly exposed.

Edward continued, "We as a family still have our titles and lands secured here. But I have my standing in Russia. While I could potentially assist you in gaining a position there too, Jane, your rigid piety and English pride would likely not fare well at the Empress's court. You would be shunned by the nobles."

His blunt words stung, but Jane understood the truth of them. With a nod of acceptance, Edward took his leave.

After his departure, their father turned to Jane with sympathy in his eyes. "Your brother speaks rightly. We have our footing here in England still. His Majesty may yet be persuaded to find you a worthy husband, perhaps a duke or even a foreign prince. Take heart, daughter, your fortunes may still rise."

But Thomas was unmoved by his father's optimism. "Look where her foolish infatuation has led us!" he raged. "She has destroyed everything our family worked so hard to achieve!"

Jane shrank under the assault of his verbal blows and barely concealed violence simmering below the surface.

Seeing his son's tenuous grip on composure slipping, their father intervened. "Thomas! Go unleash your fury in the woods, not here!"

With visible effort, Thomas restrained himself. He turned on his heel and stalked out, muttering curses about Edward and the Russian witch who had stolen all their hopes.

Alone with her father, Jane collapsed into his arms. "I'm so sorry papa..." she wept.

He stroked her hair gently. "Hush child. Dry your tears. Your brothers speak truthfully, though bluntly. We must look now to securing your future."

The father and daughter pair walked through the halls to find Edward in his lavishly furnished apartments, reclining by the fire with a book. He raised an eyebrow at their abrupt entrance but set his reading aside graciously to listen.

Sir John cleared his throat. "Son, your sister is now in need of your wisdom. With the king setting her aside, we must determine where she is to go from here."

Edward nodded thoughtfully. "Remaining in England is likely untenable. Every scorned glance and whisper behind fans at court will be a torment. However..." He trailed off, a new consideration entering his mind.

"Yes?" Jane prompted eagerly at his hesitation.

"Perhaps it may be worthwhile for you to accompany me back to Russia." Seeing Jane's eyes light up, he held up a hand. "Let me be clear - I could not secure you any position of influence. Your behavior as of now will see you shunned at the Empress's court. But removing you entirely from England may allow memories to fade over time."

Jane mulled it over. Life adrift in Russia without status or purpose would be challenging. But Edward was right - it did present a chance for redemption one day.

"I understand," Jane nodded. "But it's a chance to start anew, away from the gossip and shame here. And perhaps, in time, I could prove myself useful to you and England."

After a long moment, Edward nodded. "Very well. But remember, this is not a game. The Russian court is as dangerous as it is grand."

Sir John clapped his hands together. "It's settled then. We shall see you off to Russia at the end of the week."

As their father left to make preparations, when Thomas returned later that night, he pulled Edward aside. "Are you mad?" he hissed. "That woman will humiliate our family further!"

Edward's eyes glinted like steel. "No, she shall not. For I will be watching Jane's every move. At the first sign of trouble, she will find herself on the next ship bound for England or exiled to a country home. Now go assist our father, brother."

His commanding tone brooked no argument. With a frustrated huff, Thomas took his leave. Alone again, Edward stoked the fire, satisfied things were going according to plan. Jane would be his little moth, drawn to Russia's burning flame. And if she ventured too close, she would get burned.

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The journey to Russia was long and tiresome. Jane spent much of it sequestered in her cabin, avoiding Edward's company. She was still stung by his earlier harsh words and condescension towards her, but Jane would not be deterred. She was determined to understand what it was about this foreign queen that so enthralled the man who was once her husband.

When their ship finally arrived after weeks at sea, Jane nervously prepared herself to meet the mysterious and notorious Empress of Russia for the first time. As Edward had warned, she was received coldly by the glittering members of the imperial court. They spoke around her in rapid Russian, leaving her bewildered and excluded. She observed Adieya closely at a lavish welcoming feast, watching each graceful movement and interaction. The Empress sat at the head table, radiating power and sensual charm in equal measure. Now Jane understood how Henry had become so obsessed - this was no ordinary woman.

One night Edward stood at the window of his quarters, his brow furrowed in thought. The decision to bring Jane to Russia had been a calculated risk - a chance to remove her from the toxic environment of the English court while potentially grooming her as a future asset.

But now, watching her clumsy attempts to ingratiate herself with the Russian nobility, he realized he had miscalculated. Jane's presence was becoming a liability, threatening the delicate balance in Adieya's court.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Enter," he called.

One of Adieya's other advisors, Aleksandr, stepped into the room. "Your sister has been asking questions about the Empress again, my Prince," he reported, his tone cautious.

Edward sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I had hoped she would learn discretion, but it seems I was overly optimistic."

"What do you intend to do?" Aleksandr asked.

After a moment's consideration, Edward replied, "I'll have to send her away. To a manor outside the city. It's the only way to protect both her and our position here."

Aleksandr nodded in understanding. "And if she resists?"

"Then we'll remind her of the precariousness of her situation," Edward said firmly. "I brought her here to give her a chance at redemption, not to jeopardize everything I've worked for."

In the days that followed, Jane subtly watched Adieya from concealed vantage points, often contriving ways to insert herself into the Empress' path in hopes of garnering attention or conversation. But someone always seemed to whisk Adieya away just as Jane began attempting awkward introductions in her halting, heavily accented Russian.

Frustrated by her continued inability to get close to the Empress, Jane decided to confront Edward again. She marched unannounced into his opulent and expensive bedchamber as he relaxed reading by the fire, determined to get answers.

"Well, what do you want now?" Edward demanded impatiently, snapping his book shut.

"What does she have that I do not?" Jane demanded hotly. "It was said she is ruined, no longer a maid! So why does His Majesty pine for her still when he wanted purity in me?"

Edward slammed his book down. "Must I explain this yet again, sister?" he asked through gritted teeth. "The Empress's past difficulties do not define her now. Three Popes have affirmed the validity of any future marriage she may make. Her courageous perseverance is legendary across Europe, so do not speak ill of her hardships."

He advanced on Jane and she shrank back, his barely leashed fury reminding her too much of Thomas's rages.

"The arrogance that comes with holding power has warped you, dear sister. Since you seem unable to grasp your rightful place here without a crown, you will now take your leave of court. I am sending you and your ladies to a manor outside the city until you come back to your senses."

Jane opened her mouth to protest but Edward's steely expression brooked no argument. With an indignant huff, she swept from the room to pack her meager belongings, his threats still ringing in her ears. 'Clearly, this manor had better be luxurious if she was being banished there like an errant child!' She fumed in impotent fury as she was bundled into a carriage under cover of darkness and conveyed out of the bustling heart of the Russian court.

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Back at court, Edward decided to inform Adieya of the situation with Jane. The Empress received him warmly in her private salon and bade him sit by the fire. Gratefully sinking into a plush chair, Edward finally allowed himself to vent his long-simmering frustration.

"Forgive my burdening you, but I despise them all!" he exploded bitterly.

Adieya blinked in surprise but kept her tone gentle. "Who angers you so, Edward?"

"My wretched family - if I can even call them that after this. You have been more of a sibling to me than any of them." Edward sighed heavily and raked a hand through his hair.

"While I am touched by your words, what has happened to provoke such ire towards your own?" Adieya probed.

Edward's expression darkened. "I see it all now. The pursuit of power has poisoned their souls. Jane is a stranger to me now, desperate and conniving. And Thomas...he frightens me. I fear he will try to kill me someday soon." Edward admitted bleakly.

Adieya nodded in understanding and reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. "Do not fear them. I do not intend to grant either of them any authority here without merit. And if I did, it would only be in the title alone - a meaningless, trivial role to placate them. Jane is nothing to me."

Comforted by her steadfast support, Edward sighed and leaned back, "Thank you, Dieya. I am in your debt."

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Meanwhile, Thomas Seymour's temper was growing increasingly volatile back in England as weeks turned into months with no word from his siblings. The Seymour apartments echoed with emptiness in their absence. The silence only augmented Thomas's foul mood, leaving him brooding and snapping at servants.

The day before, he had defied his father's orders and snuck away from court, stealing two fast horses from the royal stables. He had caught wind of a secret society operating in the wilds near St Petersburg seeking to overthrow the Russian ruler. Such an opportunity was too promising for a bored and power-hungry man like Thomas to ignore. He rode hard over the countryside for days, heading towards a clandestine meeting with their mysterious leader.

As Thomas rode through the Russian countryside, his ears pricked at the hushed conversations in taverns and marketplaces. Whispers of discontent, of a movement growing in the shadows.

Thomas sat in the dingy tavern, nursing his third ale of the night. The bitter taste matched his mood perfectly.

"You look like a man with troubles," a gruff voice said. Thomas looked up to see a scarred man watching him intently.

"What's it to you?" Thomas growled.

The man shrugged. "Nothing. But I know that look. The look of a man who's been wronged. Who wants to make things right."

Thomas's eyes narrowed. "And if I am?"

The man leaned in closer. "Then maybe you'd be interested in hearing about some friends of mine. Friends who think it's time for a change in how things are run around here."

Thomas hesitated. This was dangerous territory. But hadn't he come here looking for exactly this kind of opportunity?

"I'm listening," he said finally.

As the man began to speak in low tones about secret meetings and plans for a new dawn, Thomas felt a thrill of excitement. This was his chance. But a small voice in the back of his mind whispered a warning. Once he stepped down this path, there would be no turning back.

He pushed the doubts aside. He was a Seymour. And Seymours took what they wanted, no matter the cost.

Navigating the ramshackle villages dotting the Russian wilderness, he detected shadows trailing him as he drew closer to St Petersburg and managed to lose the agents on his trail through the winding alleys of the city's slums. Thomas found a dingy tavern on the outskirts that suited his needs - dim, dangerous, and filled with a rougher element of society. Nursing an ale, he subtly let it be known among the shady patrons that he sought information about certain dissident groups. After weeks of patiently working this network, vying for the rebels' trust, Thomas was finally granted a secret audience with Dimitri, leader of the Red Dawn movement.

Three days of hard riding brought Thomas deep into the forest to a derelict inn on the appointed night. He gave the gruff guards at the door a prearranged password and was brusquely escorted upstairs. Another man lurked in the shadows of a back room, calmly shuffling a deck of cards. Thomas cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

The man glanced up with interest. " Ah, Thomas Seymour. You wanted to discuss something?" The man spoke with a smirk on his face. His voice was pleasantly mild, but a Russian accent was prominent in his English.

"I seek vengeance. And you're the one who can help me achieve it." Thomas replied bluntly, getting right to business.

The man chuckled lowly. "Revenge on whom, exactly?"

"I seek vengeance against the woman who sits on Russia's throne," Thomas spat angrily.

The man slowly set down his cards, steepling his hands under his chin. "You must have great hatred in your heart to wish Adieya harm. Tell me, what grievances do you have against my niece the Empress?" He practically purred the words.

Thomas immediately launched into a vitriolic tirade, painting Adieya as a conniving usurper. The man listened intently, only interrupting occasionally to prod for more details. After Thomas finally drained his venomous bile, the man sat back looking impressed.

The man leaned forward, steepling his hands on the table. "How very fascinating. I believe I am soon due for a family reunion with my dear niece, the Empress." He practically purred the words. "But first, to assess your commitment to our cause, I have a simple task. There are many peasants in this inn. Select one at random and end their worthless life."

Thomas's blood sang with excitement as he gripped the hilt of his dagger. The weight of it in his hand felt right, felt powerful. This was his chance to prove himself, to finally unleash the darkness that had been simmering within him for so long.

He left the room, his steps measured, his senses heightened. The din of the tavern seemed to fade away as he scanned the crowd, searching for his target. His gaze landed on a young woman near the bar, her laugh bright and carefree. Insignificant. Expendable. Perfect.

Without hesitation, he moved towards her, his heartbeat quickening with each step. This was his moment. This was his chance to show them all what he was capable of. To prove that he, Thomas Seymour, was a force to be reckoned with.

He could see every detail with startling clarity - the way her hair caught the dim lamplight, the flush of wine on her cheeks, the trust in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, her voice curious and unsuspecting.

Thomas felt a smile spread across his face, cold and predatory. "Oh yes," he murmured, "you can."

As he reached for her, time seemed to slow. In one fluid motion, he drew his blade across her throat. The shock in her eyes, the warm spurt of blood on his hand, the heavy thud of her body hitting the floor – it all blurred together in a rush of sensation that left him breathless and exhilarated.

He stood over her lifeless form, chest heaving, a twisted smile playing on his lips. At last, he had found his true calling.

As her body crumpled to the floor, Thomas stood over her, chest heaving. The tavern erupted into chaos around him, but he barely noticed. All he could focus on was the intoxicating feeling of power coursing through his veins.

The man appeared behind him. "Enough, Thomas. I'd rather not replace all my rugs." He nudged the spreading pool of blood with the toe of his boot. "Come. You have proven yourself worthy of joining our Red Dawn."

Cleaning his blade, Thomas felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. He had not been allowed to indulge his darker urges so freely in some time. Oh, this would be a most productive partnership!

Thomas followed him down a flight of stairs into a warren of tunnels below the inn. Suddenly, he was blinded by a strip of cloth tied around his head.

"A necessary precaution to protect our secrecy," the man explained, leading Thomas through the musty darkness.

They entered a small room and Thomas was directed into a chair. Without warning, his arm erupted into searing pain near his shoulder. He gasped as the agonizing sensation built until the blackness took him.

When Thomas came to, the blindfold had been removed. The man stood nearby, smiling sinisterly. "I hope you like my signature mark."

Thomas examined his throbbing shoulder where an imprint of sun and moon now branded his flesh. The image was of a quarter sun with the other fourths of the raw, red marks representing the dawn conquering the night of imperial rule.

"Brothers!" The man called out. Several rough-looking men filed into the room, glancing curiously at Thomas. "I present our newest member - Thomas Seymour."

The men nodded in approval and some came forward to thump Thomas on the back welcomingly. Finally, he had found his tribe.

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Thomas had always simmered with ambition and jealousy, even as a young boy in the Seymour household. He was the youngest son, destined to live in the shadows of his older brothers. Edward received all the praise and accolades for his intellect and political savvy, while Thomas was merely seen as the hot-headed troublemaker. Resentment festered within him through the years at court as he watched Edward continue rising while his prospects stalled.

Joining the rebel Red Dawn movement had unleashed something dark and visceral in Thomas that both thrilled and scared him. The brand seared into his flesh was not just a commitment to the cause - it unleashed the floodgates on his darkest urges and left him craving violence. He threw himself recklessly into every ruthless assignment, releasing years of pent-up rage that his family always told him to restrain.

One night after a successful raid on a remote village, Thomas joined one of Dimitri's close advisers, Viktor, and some of the other men around the campfire, still flush with excitement. The flames cast flickering shadows over Viktor's weathered face as he smiled, clearly impressed by Thomas's evident talent for cruelty that almost matched his own.

"You surprise me, Englishman," Viktor mused, his Russian accent rolling the R's. "I confess I was skeptical when you first came begging to join us. But it is plain to see you have the heart of a true rebel burning within you."

Heart swelling from the hard-won praise, Thomas boldly met Viktor's assessing gaze. "I've told you, vengeance has consumed my soul. I will not rest until I've destroyed those who have wronged me...who took everything that was meant to be mine!" He slammed his fist down for emphasis, anger temporarily overriding any caution.

Viktor's eyes narrowed, curiosity piqued. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "This man who has earned such hatred...tell me of him, this brother Edward I have heard you curse. What slights warrant such violence towards your own blood?"

Thomas stared into the flickering embers, jaw tight. Finally, through gritted teeth, he ground out, "Ever since we were boys, he has lorded his status as the eldest son over me. So smug and superior, flaunting his easy charm that made everyone adore him." His hands clenched into fists at the painful memories.

"My father, the court - Edward could do no wrong in their eyes. I was the failure, the embarrassment. Any accomplishments I scraped together went ignored while Edward soaked up all the glory and approval."

Viktor made a sympathetic noise. "Ah, I understand such injustice well, my friend. To toil fruitlessly without reward or acclaim eats away at a man's soul."

"Exactly!" Thomas burst out angrily, gesturing so sharply that his ale sloshed. "And just when luck finally brought me close to influence by King Henry's side, Edward betrayed our family to ally with England's enemy - seduced by that Russian witch and her empty promises of power!" His face twisted in disgust.

"So I will see them both suffer for denying me what should have been mine," Thomas finished vehemently.

Viktor regarded him with new respect, clearly impressed by the depths of his resentment. He lifted his cup in salute. "Well said, brother. The day draws near when traitors to Russia like your brother will get the fate they deserve."

Thomas raised his cup as well, meeting Viktor's gaze steadily. "I cannot wait to watch England's beloved son die screaming for his treachery. And once Adieya sees her pet advisor's mutilated corpse, I will fulfill my vow to end her wretched life myself!"

The men roared approval and pounded Thomas on the back. Viktor gave an approving nod, a twisted smile forming behind his grizzled beard. Soon, Thomas would prove useful in drawing out these high-level targets for elimination. For now, Viktor would continue to mentor his promising new acolyte in the art of merciless retribution.

After all, vengeance was a meal best served cold, and Thomas would need patience to savor every bitter bite.

════ ・༺༒༻・ ════

Weeks passed and Thomas was rising fast through the ranks of the Red Dawn thanks to his ruthlessness and total commitment to their anti-monarchy cause. He immersed himself in their culture and combat training.

Over the ensuing weeks, Thomas quickly gained importance in the ranks of the Red Dawn. He threw himself into training with their fighters, learning their ways. One night after practice, he joined a group playing cards around a rough-hewn table in their forest camp. Thomas had picked up enough Russian by now to follow most conversations.

"Have you heard the rumor?" one man asked.

"About the Empress having a secret lover at court?" another chuckled. "Yes, quite scandalous."

Thomas's ears perked up. This was valuable information about Adieya's potential weakness.

After the game, Thomas pulled the first man aside, plying him with more vodka. "Tell me of this lover. I'm...intrigued."

The man grinned, happy to share juicy gossip. "Rumor is it's that new English advisor. The handsome one she's always meeting privately with."

Thomas's blood ran cold. There was only one man that could be. His grip tightened on his cup as fury churned within him.

So Edward betrayed the family further by becoming the Empress's pet. This insult could not be borne.

Thomas vowed then and there that both Edward and the Russian Jezebel who had bewitched him would pay in blood. His new brothers in the Red Dawn would help Thomas exact his ultimate vengeance against those who had destroyed his hopes. As Thomas reveled in his newfound purpose with the Red Dawn, a messenger arrived at the Russian court, breathless and wide-eyed with urgency.

Edward, deep in conversation with Adieya, noticed the commotion. The messenger whispered something to one of the guards, who paled visibly before approaching the Empress.

"Your Majesty," the guard said, his voice trembling slightly, "we've received word from our spies. It seems an assassination attempt is being planned. The target..." he paused, his eyes flicking nervously to Edward, "is said to be the English advisor."

Edward felt the blood drain from his face as Adieya's hand tightened on the arm of her throne. In that moment, he realized that his carefully constructed world was about to be shaken to its very foundations.

Across the city, Thomas cleaned his blade, a cold smile playing on his lips. The game was about to begin, and he intended to win at any cost.

════ ･༺༒༻･ ════

Double Update this time. On top of that, I couldn't leave everyone on a cliffhanger for too long, I'm super excited to hear from you about your thoughts on this new person. Finally, Ashes of the Past is quickly coming to an end. But don't worry there are still most likely 10 more chapters to come.  There is so much more on the way, and I'm extremely excited to share it with you all.

~Persephone

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