The King's Bastard

Rating: PG

Warning: Bad grammar, since English is not my first language

Disclaimer: The characters belonged to themselves. No offence meant. This is pure fiction and NOT historical fact. Despite that, this fic belongs to me.

Summary: A collection of one-shots during Mary Tudor's days as King Henry's bastard daughter. Kind of sequel to my previous story Destiny, but can also stand alone as an independent story.

Author's notes: I finally get to write this. This is from Mary's point of view, so it contains some radical and unfair opinion of Anne Boleyn. I cannot promise for a regular update, as both the mock and public exams are coming, but I will find time to write. After all, writing can be a good practice for English. Reviews are more than welcome!


My name is Mary Tudor. I was born a Princess in February, 1516, to the great King Henry VIII of England and his wife, Queen Catherine of Aragon. My birth would have been much happily celebrated had I born to be a boy. Nevertheless, my father was happy to have me then, until years later then everything fell apart, and I was banished from my personal Eden.

My childhood was the best time in my life. My parents loved me. I received the best education and living in the country. Numerous European princes and kings were eager to be betrothed to me. Everyone in England adored me. I was their Princess, heiress to the throne. I was my father's precious daughter, his greatest pearl.

However, this all fell apart, just because of one woman, Anne Boleyn. She wanted to be Queen. She seduced my father and turned him from his own family. My father craved for a son. He made the stupidest decision, that was to divorce my mother and marry Anne.

Through all those years of wars between my parents, I was pulled out of my dream and became bitter and suspicious. I feared, every second, that someone would kill me. The world was no longer heaven to live in, and till now I still think it has become hell, ever since Anne's appearance.

Although I have never been a bastard in the eyes of the Church, in England I once was, and a great part of my life was spent on being King Henry's bastard. Those were bitter years, and I shall never forget time. Being forced to renounce my own legitimacy and the true religion, being subjected to humiliation and disgrace, being rid of loving friends and beloved moth, and most of all, being unable to get my father's previous devotion.

I shall never forget those year, when I was known as the Lady Mary Tudor, the King's mistake and a bastard born of an incestuous union.