⚠⚠⚠ TW: PLEASE TAKE CAUTION WITH THIS CHAPTER. IT IS VERY DARK AND GREWSOME, BE ADVISED THAT THERE ARE MENTIONS OF RAPE, PHYSICAL ABUSE, AND MISCARRIAGES. THERE ARE ALSO ACTIONS OF SELF-HARM. FINALLY, THERE IS DEATH, LOTS OF IT WITHIN THIS CHAPTER SUCH AS DECAPITATION AND BURNING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.⚠⚠⚠

───── ❝ Chapter Fifteen ❞ ─────

Though outwardly composed, a storm raged inside Henry's mind. The woman he had loved, made his queen and schemed against him in the most unforgivable ways. The sting of her betrayal cut him deeper than any dagger. As Henry mulled over the lengthy list of charges against Eleanor and her co-conspirators, he knew justice could no longer be delayed. However, the trials had to be handled masterfully to prevent further deceptions.

The heavy oak door creaked open, admitting a sliver of flickering torchlight from the hall. Henry looked up, his brow furrowed over eyes hollowed by sleepless nights.

"Your Majesty." Thomas Cromwell's gravelly voice preceded him into the dimly lit chamber. Charles Brandon followed a step behind, eyes cutting briefly to the oil lamps burning low.

"What is it?" Henry's words were curt, weighted by the turmoil that had gripped the court and his own heart.

"We've received word that Lord Thomas Howard and Sir Thomas Boleyn have been apprehended at last," Cromwell stated, stepping closer to the round table where Henry sat brooding. "They were found quarreling about another failed plot, it seems."

A mirthless chuckle escaped Henry's lips. "Of course, they were still scheming, even now." He dragged a hand down his face, jaw clenching. "This ends today. Schedule the trials - for Howard, Boleyn...and the Lady Eleanor as well." His voice turned steely.

Charles exchanged a wary glance with Cromwell before nodding slowly. "On the same day, Your Grace?"

"Yes," Henry growled, returning their gaze with conviction burning in his eyes. "I want them to have no opportunity to spin more lies, to twist more deceit between them." His fist thumped down on the aged wood. "They'll hear the damning truth laid bare, and judgment will be passed."

"As you command, Your Majesty," Cromwell murmured with a dip of his head. "I'll have the proclamations issued at once," With a rustle of his robes, he turned and departed the chamber.

Only Charles remained, holding Henry's turbulent stare across the table. A tense silence stretched between them.

"This is the path you want to take?" Charles asked at last, his gruff voice tinged with something like concern. "There's no going back once the ax falls."

For a long moment, Henry said nothing, shadows from the sputtering lamps casting his features in an unstable dance of light and dark. Then, finally...

"They brought this doom upon themselves," he growled low. "And they'll meet it together, so the world knows the extent of their monstrosity."

Charles gave a somber nod. "As you say...my King."

Not even an hour later, Charles went to gather the condemned Eleanor Boleyn from her cell, and something snapped inside her mind. A madness seemed to take hold, turning her screams from ones of anguish to unhinged shrieks of fury.

"Revenge!" she howled, spittle flecking her ashen cheeks. "I'll have my revenge on that bastard Henry and his whore of a queen!"

Her eyes, wild and rolling, found the guards hurrying towards the cell. Eleanor's cries intensified, railing venomously against the "deceitful bitch Adieya" who had supplanted her cousin on the throne. The guards exchanged uneasy looks before one grabbed a coarse length of rope, forcing it between Eleanor's gnashing teeth to muffle her treasonous ranting.

She fought them with surprising strength, like a caged wolf desperate for freedom to slake its thirst for blood. But soon, a rough blindfold covered her eyes as well, blocking out all but the darkness that seemed to spur her madness further. Animalistic snarls and growls rumbled from behind the gag as they dragged the struggling, feral creature toward her reckoning.

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Later that morning, the trial chamber echoed with a swell of jeers and insults as Thomas Howard was led in, flanked by three towering guards. The once powerful nobleman scanned the assembled crowd of his former peers with an imperious tilt of his chin, seemingly unaffected by the curses and rotten produce arcing through the air.

His haughty bearing remained fixed as the guards forced him into a rigid wooden chair. Howard's wrists were lashed cruelly behind the back support, the coarse ropes biting into his flesh. His booted ankles were similarly bound to the chair's legs, ensuring there would be no daring escape.

Through it all, Howard's piercing glare never wavered from the raised dais where the ruby-robed magistrate watched stone-faced. It was this merciless man, the king's own hatchet, who would preside over the trials - and ensure Howard's execution alongside his unfortunate co-conspirators currently locked away.

A feral grin crept across the disgraced lord's lips as if he could already smell the acrid smoke that would soon billow from the headsman's pyre. Baring his teeth with one final act of defiance, Thomas Howard readied himself to embrace the hell's inferno he had stoked.

Cromwell grabbed his gravel and banged it a few times to quiet the court. As the noise quieted he picked up a piece of parchment that held the charges that he knew would make people angry the second he read them out.

"Lord Thomas Howard 3rd Duke of Norfolk you have brought to this court on charges of two counts of rape, one for a child, and another against foreign royalty. A count of treason, consisting of the murder of three unborn children, and aiding in a kidnapping. A count for treason by aiding in hiding a missing child, and another for aiding in hiding a missing Royal. And finally, a count for physical abuse against a royal child."

Within seconds the room filled with gasps as no one could believe how deep the family's crimes went. The air was sucked out of the room, leaving a chilling silence.

"How do you plead to these charges, My Lord."

Everyone waited on edge to hear what Howard would say. Would he defend himself or not? All eyes bored into the back of his head.

"My Lords, Chancellor, where is the proof of your claims? Without proof, I will not find myself guilty or not." His voice echoed in the silent chamber.

"Your proof is right here, uncle," a voice called out.

The court once again gasped when the voice stepped out of the shadows.

"George, get back in your seat." Howard seethed, his eyes flashing dangerously.

George's hands trembled as he prepared to testify. Years of guilt and shame pressed down on him, threatening to steal his voice. But as he met Henry's steady gaze across the courtroom, he found an unexpected well of courage. In his eyes, he saw not condemnation, but a challenge to be better than his past. Roiling nausea and dread seeped into him as he stepped forward, throat constricting with the words he knew he must say aloud - to condemn his own blood, the family who still held twisted influence over him through fear and obligation. Yet buoyed by his new loyalties to the King, to Adieya who showed him the truth of his soul. Hands shaking, but resolve settled deep in his chest as repressed memories bubbled up.

"No. No longer do you influence me. I've been waiting for years to speak up and right my wrongs. And if this is how it must be done to atone for them, no matter how it hurts those around me, then so be it. I have never forgiven myself for my actions. I take full responsibility for them. But here a murderer sits, here a kidnapper lies. The royal in question is Her Imperial Majesty the Empress of Russia. She was kidnapped, sold to my family, and then raped by my uncle repeatedly. He forced me to watch and even participate when I did not want to. He is guilty of all charges against him! Do not let him walk away without punishment for his crimes!"

Cromwell turned to Howard, "Now that you have heard the evidence against you, how do you plead?"

"Not guilty, Lord Chancellor," Howard spoke slowly, drawing out each word to prove his innocence.

Cromwell nodded and called for the Lords of the Court to decide the disgraced lord's fate in a conjoined room. Within minutes of the Lords leaving they returned with looks of determination written on their faces. Cromwell then waited for the man to sit in his seat before he cleared his throat and addressed the crowd, "My Lords and Ladies gathered with this court today, the Lords of the Court have found Thomas Howard 3rd Duke of Norfolk guilty of all charges, and punishment left to His majesty's digression !"

The crowd erupted into cheers as they knew the man who held much greed for power would no longer have that power. As the crowd cheered the grads around Howard untied him from the chair and led him to a room in the Tower where he would live out his final days until his fate was decided.

As Cromwell spoke, George felt a hollow sort of relief in doing the right thing for once, mixed with mourning for who he was and the innocent he failed. But determination to atone, to rebuild himself anew.

The trial for Thomas Boleyn went similarly except as George went to testify against his father, Thomas Boleyn started yelling at George, trying to stop George from giving his evidence. But in the end, Thomas Boleyn was found guilty of all charges and was, with much force, brought to the Tower to wait out the day in solitude until his punishment was upon him.

In the early afternoon, came the trial everyone was waiting for—the trial of Eleanor Tudor Queen of England.

When she was brought in the whole crowd waited in silence, watching as she walked in and sat down in her chair with poise, but if you looked closer into her eyes you could see the madness circling inside her eyes like a brewing storm. With another bang of Cromwell's gravel, the trial commenced.

"Your Majesty, Queen Eleanor Tudor you have been brought before this court on charges of a count treason consisting of conspiracy to kill His Majesty King Henry VIII of England." A collective gasp echoed through the chamber as Cromwell read the charges against Eleanor, the list seemed endless, each accusation more outrageous than the last.

Cromwell paused for any reaction the crowd would have, but no one made a sound.

The air grew thick with tension, the rustle of nervous whispers rising and falling like waves. Eleanor's eyes, wild and unfocused, darted around the room as if seeking escape. Finally, everyone was beginning to understand the true persona of the woman they allowed to become their queen. Even the family's most faithful and trusted courtiers stayed silent, knowing if they spoke up their influence would be even greater diminished than it already was. The charges hung heavy in the air like a dark cloud.

"How do you plead?" Cromwell spoke up once more, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

Eleanor kept her head down, picking at her fingernails but suddenly as Cromwell had finished his sentence she slowly looked up with a smirk, "Guilty as charged Your Grace. I do not regret any of my actions, as they are where my true heart lies."

Cromwell banged his gravel loudly gathering everyone's attention. "Silence! Your Majesty as you stated before this court yourself guilty, you have been found guilty of all charges against you. Your sentence shall be decided according to His Majesty King Henry VIII's belief of your betrayal.

Henry watched from above, his knuckles white as he gripped the balcony railing. Each revelation was a fresh wound, reopening his barely healed heart. There in the shadows, Henry who had watched all three trials from above drunkenly motioned for one of the groomsmen to give a sheet of parchment to Cromwell. With a bow, the groomsmen handed over the parchment and returned to Henry's side.

Cromwell cleared his throat and paused before saying, "His Majesty wishes the people of this court and those who have watched these trials to know that from this moment forward, his marriage to one Eleanor Boleyn is terminated, and the title Queen of England has been stripped from the Lady Eleanor Boleyn. And all lands, jewels, and titles bestowed upon the Lady Eleanor Boleyn after her marriage to His Majesty are to be returned. Finally, His Majesty has made his judgment upon your case. He has recognized your guilty plea and has charged both your father and uncle to decapitation by ax and your death by burning."

Eleanor just chuckled and tilted her head back down as a single tear rolled down her cheeks. She was broken at the beginning, but now... now nothing was left of the fake seducing persona she had put on for years. What was left was the psychopathic power-hungry woman that cared only for herself. Her fate was sealed.

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The day had come and gone but the drama had not. Charles watched his friend and king with growing concern. Henry's descent into despair wasn't just a personal tragedy - it was a threat to the stability of the entire realm. As he penned his letter to Adieya, Charles realized he was pinning the hopes of a kingdom on the strength of a woman who had every reason to turn her back on England. If there was anyone who could understand such depths of pain and fight their way back, it was the remarkable woman whose suffering birthed unbreakable resilience. The decision to write her stemmed from knowing her unique perspective, her bond with Henry, and her sheer strength of spirit that could rouse the fire in Henry's soul again.

He knew that Adieya would not be too happy with the English court knowing of her trauma and abuse, but it would be a month until the elder Boleyn's death with the scaffolding for their execution starting to be built, allowing time to have the Russian ruler show up. The letter took him minutes to write and he quickly asked his messenger to deliver the letter straight to Adieya or Galina. He only trusted those two specifically with the letter, as you never knew who was friend or foe in any royal court. It is a game that never stops, where you play your cards just right to stay. The walls have ears, after all.

The time of the Boleyn family was over but now... who would occupy the position of Queen of England, he did not know. He knew Henry's heart was now with Adieya and Jane had been all but pushed aside and forgotten about. He had heard from one of Adieya's councilmen that the Seymour brothers were still pushing Jane to be on the throne, but also had a standing with Adieya.

Edward Seymour, the more reasonable of the two brothers, had stayed behind. For what reason he did not know, but Charles had an idea why he would not return to England.

But the question remained, would Jane Seymour become Queen of England? The future was murky, with many paths forward. Only time would tell where Henry's heart would lead him.

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After the trial, Henry shut himself away from the world, drinking again, and refused to see anyone. A trail of spilled wine left a crimson path to where Henry huddled, back against the cold stone wall. His tunic was rent, fresh beads of blood darkening the fabric over his trembling knuckles. Shards of glass surrounded him, remnants of the bottles he'd flung in his anguished spiral.

Eleanor's face swam behind his eyes with every blink - her malice, her lies, the rot that had festered between them masquerading as love. But worse were the tiny faces that came with her, the ghostly impressions of their lost children never born into this world. A guttural sound torn from his depths, part wail and part retch. How had he not seen the depths of her depravity until it consumed them all?

Henry's fingers clawed at his scalp, seeking any pain to drown out the torment devouring him from the inside. If only he could strip off this diseased flesh and be reborn anew...

Even though he was ordered not to Charles, slipped into Henry's chambers to check on the King, and what he found broke him. It wasn't the amount of alcohol in the rooms, nor the sheets of parchment that were thrown across the room, or the shattered glass chards that lay scattered. It was the small pools of blood that spanned the room, it was the bright red cuts on Henry's exposed skin and fingertips. That's when Charles knew something was dangerously wrong. The King was little more than a husk amid the devastation. His heart clenched at the sight of his friend, the strong steady force crumpled under incomprehensible betrayal. Carefully, he crossed the wreckage to Henry's side, kneeling down.

"My King..." His voice was a low rumble, thick with concern.

Henry startled at the sound, eyes snapping open to meet Charles' gaze. There was no recognition just despair hollowing his features before he closed his eyes once more, falling back into the alcohol-induced haze.

"You cannot let this destroy you," Charles pressed on, undeterred. "This is the precise thing Eleanor craved - to drag you into the abyss alongside her. But you ARE stronger."

Quietly he called Henry's groomsmen to enter the rooms for the first time in a month. They helped Charles get Henry into bed, his cuts cleaned, the bottles of alcohol taken from each room, the glass shards were swept away, and finally, the papers were collected and set in neat stacks on Henry's desk. Charles, then dismissed them so they would not receive any of Henry's anger when he awoke in a half-sober mind.

When Henry did wake, he was confused as to why he was in his bed so comfortably as no one in a drunken state could get into a bed as nicely and as comfortably as he was. That's when he heard the turning of a page. His head turned abruptly to where the noise came from and he saw a man sitting in one of the chairs next to the fire, but instead of the chair being towards the fire as Henry had always had it placed, it was turned towards Henry so the man could see any movement from the door and Henry.

It took a moment for Henry to realize who the person sitting in the chair was. One of the few people who would dare to enter the King's private chambers unannounced. Charles. He smiled to himself for a moment before sighing.

"How are you feeling, Henry?" Charles asked without looking up at his novel.

Henry softly chuckled, "In truth, Charles, I am so tired." His laugh held no mirth; only a bone-deep exhaustion.

Charles gently closed his book before standing up walked over to Henry's side and pulled a chair from next to Henry's table to sit on. With a sigh, Charles fell into the seat and rubbed his face in his hands before saying, "What are you doing to yourself, Henry?"

The man in question turned his head to face Charles with a raised eyebrow silently asking him to explain.

"What you are doing is dangerous." He pointed to the bandages that covered Henry's arms, "This, is dangerous." His voice was laced with concern for his friend and king.

A tear slipped from Henry's eye. "What am I supposed to do, Charles?" he said, his voice breaking at the end with the weight of his anguish.

Charles slid forward on the chair slightly, and reached for Henry's hand, "Fight. Fight for yourself. Fight for your heart. Fight for your country."

"How can I do that Charles, when there is nothing left to fight with." Henry's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"But there is, you have found and torn down the lies that hold you back, now with their death this week you will be free. You must fight for your country, to keep it alive you must stay alive." Charles squeezed his hand encouragingly.

There was silence for a moment as Henry's body shook with tears. Suddenly he let out a shuttering breath, "H-how does she do it? How does she get through all the pain she has every day without breaking? How does she not become like this?"

Charles scoffed softly, "Truthfully Henry, she doesn't get through it. She just learned to put a mask around it and hide her true feelings from everyone. She did go through times of self-harm just as you are now, she does even to this day, but she's learned how to fight. Fight off the demons that try to break you down in the moment so they won't knock you down in the future."

"I wish she was here. I mean just to be able to understand just a bit more of her past, to be able to understand how I can help her." Henry's voice was wistful, imagining Adieya's comforting presence.

"I sent a letter over a month ago to Adieya, and knowing her, she should be arriving tomorrow." A small smile crossed Charles' face.

Henry chuckled, "Always the thinking man, Charles."

Charles laughed before tapping Henry's hand, "Get some sleep. You don't want to miss the arrival of Dieya. Do you?"

With another chuckle from Henry, he said, "No I don't, Charles. And, thank you, for everything." Gratitude shone in his tired eyes.

"Of course Henry, you are my King so I will always; always be there for you," Charles replied sincerely.

Charles smiled again before standing from the chair, pushing it back into place, and left the room. Henry smiled before finally closing his eyes, listening to the fire as it lulled him to sleep.

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Adieya could taste the tension in the air even before the castle gates appeared through the carriage window. She steadied herself with a long inhale, recalling the news of Eleanor's treachery that spurred her journey here.

As the carriage approached the castle, Adieya's carefully constructed facade wavered. Memories of her abuse threatened to overwhelm her, but she pushed them back with practiced determination. She was no longer that helpless child. Now, she returned as an empress, her scars a testament to her survival. Still, a part of her wondered if seeing her tormentors face justice would truly heal the wounds they'd inflicted.

Henry would be in a fragile state. She knew too well the bone-deep anguish wrought by deception, the self-loathing that crept like insidious vines around the soul. Her own brush with that dark solace had very nearly consumed her before she clawed her way back to the light.

As the carriage slowed, Adieya willed her features into an inscrutable mask, every inch the regal empress ready to command any audience. Yet behind the veil, her pulse thrummed with tender affection - and yearning to offer solace to the man who had looked into her brokenness and still deemed her worthy.

Just as Charles predicted Adieya walked in through the castle doors at midday. Charles had also gotten Henry out of bed and into one of his better outfits. Funny enough she arrived as Henry finished his first council meeting since his former wife's trial.

As soon as her title had been announced to the occupants in the room they all stood and waited for the Empress to enter the room. When she did they all felt like it was the first time seeing her. She wore a light blue dress with purple undertones in the skirt, a difficult color combination that somehow was perfect for the Empress. The bodice had an intricately designed white lace and a sheer floor-length cape that extended from the shoulders. Finally on the bottom of the dress was more white lacing with a similar design to the bodice. The dress seemed to glow in the sunlight streaming through the windows, matching the radiance of Adieya's beauty.

For an endless second, Henry and Adieya's eyes locked, baring the shattered parts of themselves in a single charged glance. The world seemed to bleed away until there was only the gravity of that connection. After they got over their shock the Lords in the room quickly bowed deeply while Henry had a soft smirk on his lips before giving a small bow to the foreign queen. The pair made eye contact and with a slight nod, Henry released himself from his bow, walking over to Adieya. He gently grabbed her hand, marveling at its softness, and kissed her hand.

"It's good to see you again, King Henry." She said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

Suddenly it felt like the tension in the room dissipated and the Lords stood from their bows. Henry motioned for a chair to be brought over for the Empress and led her to sit next to his seat at the table.

"Thomas Seymour, I am to tell you that your brother regrets to say that he will be returning to Russia with me once my visit has run its course. I hope you can forgive him for leaving after just arriving." Her voice was musical yet authoritative.

Thomas nodded, "Of course, Empress all is forgiven. Although I must say, this visit is unexpected."

"It is an unexpected visit, yes. But I knew I needed to be here for when their moment came."

She didn't need to specify who she was talking about as everyone already knew who the implied people were.

"As much as I wish my past had not been broadcast to all of England, I am glad they finally will pay their dues."

She looked at George, "You did a brave thing, my Lord, I commend you for admitting your fault in my abuse, but you have done everything you can to prove to me and yourself that you deserve forgiveness. Calm your mind and fears as no fault falls on you, and should it ever become necessary you will always be welcome in my realms."

George looked down at his hands for a moment before meeting Adieya's eyes, "Empress you give me more credit than I deserve, I am eternally grateful for everything you have done for me." His voice was thick with emotion.

Silence fell across the room, Adieya turned and made eye contact with Henry, and with a small nod from Adieya, Henry cleared his throat catching the attention of his council.

"Well, this week will be a busy one, My Lords, you are dismissed, we will have tomorrow to finish our work."

No one wanted to argue with Henry even with the amount of work they still needed to go through from his time in absence. Charles was the first to move from his seat knowing why Adieya had not left first. The two wanted space to talk privately away from judging eyes and ears. Within moments the room was empty and silent. When the door closed, Henry looked over at Adieya to speak to her. She had a smile quirked onto his face when he saw her daydreaming.

Slowly he placed a finger under her chin and turned her head to meet his eyes. Without removing the finger to keep her eyes on him he said, "Not that I do not mind this impromptu visit, I know that you have not just come to give forgiveness or for as much happiness their deaths will bring you, I do not think that your visit wasn't just to see their lives come to an end."

"No, it was not just my intention to see their deaths, but to see you."

"Me?" Henry smirked, amused.

"No, silly, not for that. Charles had written to me about Eleanor's trial, and I knew I had to be there for you when they die." Her tone turned serious.

The playfulness in Henry's eyes left and his hand dropped, but instead of letting their moment of touch stop, Adieya wrapped her hand around his.

"Because I know what those bandages cover, I had them too. Now they're scars, there forever, but a reminder of how much stronger I've become." Her voice was soft but strong.

Henry let out a shaky breath as a tear rolled down his cheek. As it fell Adieya took her free hand and wiped the tear away, her heart breaking to see a strong man being reduced to tears.

"When."

It was a simple whispered word but held so much meaning. When would they die?

"Tomorrow." Henry said firmly "Tomorrow, she is burned. Just after sunset, so that everyone will see." His jaw was set with determination.

Tomorrow... it would be...

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As soon as Henry made up his mind on when the Boleyn family's deaths would happen, Adieya helped pen the announcement that would be given to the people who lived in London. The executions of Thomas Boleyn and Howard would be very public, Henry wouldn't have it otherwise, something Adieya wouldn't disagree about.

The morning of their deaths the announcement was given out the people flocked to the execution site and at midday Thomas Boleyn was led onto the scaffolding. He said his last prayers to himself and attempted to say his last words but was overpowered by the crowd that was yelling curses at him. Finally, with a look from the warden, the executioner pushed Boleyn to his knees, and Boleyn understood that his death was happening, no matter what he tried to do.

Realizing this he leaned forward onto the block for his head and closed his eyes. The ax-man turned and grabbed his ax, the steel glinting in the sunlight. Within the next moments, Thomas Boleyn's head was severed from his neck in one clean blow. His head rolled into a basket as the crowd cheered. This same process followed for Thomas Howard, only he put up more of a fight and had to be held in place by his arms and legs by guards. But after each death, a group of five black ravens passed overhead cawing ominously as if marking the deaths that had occurred.

Whispers slithered along every byway and storehouse of London. A foreboding hush cloaked the markets, conversations clipped short as wary elders shooed children along before they could hear too much. Rumors had seeped into every corner - tales of the deposed queen's madness, her unholy crimes soon to be purged in unholy flame.

At the Tower, Eleanor's cell grew fetid from within. What remained of her once-meticulous grooming eroded into a tangle of lank hair and soiled garments. Dark crescents hung beneath eyes gone feral, rawred by the clawing visions of vengeance replaying in her mind. When the guards bound her wrists in preparation, she thrashed with animalistic shrieks until the coarse rope invaded her mouth, choking her to silence.

Elsewhere, Henry paced like a caged lion. Each day stripped another layer from any lingering devotion to the woman who had so utterly shattered his reality. He drained goblet after goblet, seeking oblivion from the memory of those sweet lies. Of the children they'd conceived - the innocents whose souls were extinguished before they ever drew breath.

Throughout the day Adieya and Henry had stayed within each other's company playing cards and telling stories to distract themselves from the day's events. That was until the start of the burn. When the time came, Henry and Adieya walked onto his balcony connected to his chambers where you could see off in the distance the crowd of people who had come to see the former queen to her death.

Only rage kept him upright now, the prospect of witnessing Eleanor's reckoning with the flames that would purify this stain upon his life. Soon...soon it would be over.

The day crept in like a privateer's galleon through the early morning fog, the first rays of dawn spilling crimson light over the grim preparations. Bricks were laid out in a ringed pit, ready to contain the unholy pyre taking shape within. Stacks of aged timber were carefully nested to ensure they burn.

As the hours slipped by, the crowd swelled like the rising tide outside the tower gates. Finally, with the sunset long gone on the lawn of the Tower, a pile of wood had been placed in a gravel pit surrounded by bricks to stop the grass from burning. Inside this pile of wood sat a small wooden chair where Eleanor would be placed. People crowded around to see the "Whore Queen's" death. In the next few minutes, a crazed-looking woman surrounded by guards emerged from the Tower, she was led to the chair and tied to it. Her dress was torn and matted, no longer resembling regal attire. Then with a nod to one of the guards from Charles, Edward Seymour, and finally Thomas Cromwell, a piece of rope was lit and thrown into the pile. Within minutes the entire pile was aflame and Eleanor's screams started.

The first tendrils of smoke loosened their ghostly fingers into the sky to signal the moment had arrived. Many jostled for position to bear witness - masking disgust with morbid fascination. Others shrank back, shielding young eyes and turning away. The stench of charred remains wafted first, drifting with sickly sweetness through the throng. Then came the screams, shrill above the roar of the blaze itself.

On the castle ramparts, knuckles whitened with the force of clenched grips. Charles swallowed hard, discomfort contorting his features briefly before the mask reset. Beside him, fresh perspiration beaded on George's ashen brow as memories flayed at his resolve.

Through the nearby window, Henry's jaw clenched in a grimace. Every ragged cry from the yard lanced through him like shrapnel - not from empathy, but from the regret that he'd ever allowed such poison to infiltrate his existence. He drank in the scent of justice, of karmic purification, willing every molecule of Eleanor's being to be rendered to ashes on the winds.

They watched in silence as the fire started and grew. Silent tears rolled down Henry's cheeks as the screams grew, so with the wind blowing her hair just slightly, Adieya looked away from the fire to grab Henry's hand and lean on his shoulder, giving him as much comfort as she could without saying anything. Then when the screams went silent the tears were no longer kept quiet. As a sob escaped from his lips, Adieya immediately wrapped her arms around him.

Against his shoulder, Adieya watched through slitted eyes, features set in an expressionless facade. Inside, she raged at the cruel injustice of being made to witness such torment again. Flashes of her own brutalization bubbled behind her eyelids with each anguished wail - her throat constricted around the ghostly invasion of acrid smoke. As Henry cried in a rare moment of weakness, Adieya turned her head to the fire that held the last of her tormentors, exhaling the heavy anguish she'd carried for so long with each lick of flame devouring Eleanor's desecrated form. The process would never be complete, her scars could never be erased. But she could reclaim the power Eleanor and her ilk had stolen.

So she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, drawing in the scene with every fiber of her indomitable spirit. The pyre smoldered low until the final embers winked alongside the wraith of her childhood nightmare. Only then did the queen allow a single tear to carve its path down her regal cheek.

Adieya and Henry stayed embraced until the fire died down. Then in comfortable silence, Adieya helped Henry and his grooms get ready for bed. She only left his side that night to dress into a light gown and talk to Charles who confirmed Eleanor's death. That night she stayed with Henry, combing her finger through his hair in a calling manner until his breathing evened out showing he had fallen asleep. With a smile, Adieya turned to blow out the candle next to the bed and settled to sleep within moments.

But not all times can be comforting. That night, the two unknowingly started a supernova...

They were fire on fire as future historians would say...

End of Part One

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Anyway, this is it, the end of part one. We have made it. Get ready for plot twists and more upcoming romance in part two.

~Persephone

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