FRAGMENTS OF A DYNASTY
Based on the TV Show "Tudors"

Summary: Mary's thoughts on her new husband Phillip of Spain.

Pairings: one-sided Mary/Phillip, hint of Mary/Phillip of Bavaria, and mentions of Phillip/Elizabeth.

He was the most handsome man she had ever met.

(She almost, nearly, not quite, admits to herself that Anne's cousin Phillip had been more handsome.)

His eyes were dark and piercing, his body was proportioned perfectly, he lacked the Hapsburg chin, he wore fine clothes, held himself right, had beautiful manners, a lovely deep voice that sent tremors down her...

She was obsessed with him.

She was filled with a passionate desperate obsession to know everything about this man, to love him thoroughly, to hold him and be held by him, to see him in the nude, to bear his children, to be near him at all times...

(A little part of her wonders if she has gone mad like her aunt – his grandmother.)

She has never felt so much desire before in her life. She has never felt so much happiness than the moment she is in his presence. She has not felt this young since the days when she lived near her mother and father and believed everything to be happy.

Yet this obsession had a dark side to it.

She has never felt so desperate to grab hold of something. She has never felt so miserable before than she has as the people shout abuse, he does not smile, he does not hold her, he stares at her young sister as if she is the most alluring woman he has seen, and he shudders in revulsion when Mary reaches out to touch him. She has never felt this old until she sees her husband silently compare her to all the younger, beautiful ladies in her court.

She has a dark obsession to gouge his eyes out so he could no longer stare at Elizabeth (that whore! She is just like her mother! Making eyes at men that are not hers for the taking!) Or any other lady. She obsesses over where he could be when she cannot see him, what he could be doing, who he could be doing, and how he could love one far more than her. She has a strong urge to push him on a bed, pull his hose down, and show him how she could truly be a sexual being.

Instead she prays desperately for forgiveness for her evil thoughts, for strength to survive this agony, for patience, for her husband to return her love, for a son to put in the cradle, for all this worry, obsessing, and desire to be over and done with.

He goes to war and she obsesses over his safety and virtue. What if he dies? What if he is injured? Or what if something happens and he finds himself in the arms of a beautiful French woman? When will he come back? Does he miss her? Has he realised his love for her? When he does return will he take her into his arms and kiss her so?

She prays, she obsesses, she loves, she hates, she prays again while she obsesses.

She has become nothing but obsession personified.

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