Bloody Mary

Some time after my, ahhh, flute playing episode I found myself once again summoned by the Crown. Except, it wasn’t the crown, not at that moment in time.
The fat bastard King had died, and I was mortified, mortified that I wasn’t around to spit on his fucking rotting, ulcerated corpse! Anyway, as I was saying, I was summoned by none other than his daughter.
The legend of my adventures in the Vatican had seemed to take on a mythical context of its own and alleged times of great evil where upon us. ‘The fables of Henry Game’ was, at one point, actually written down by a Royal scribe. I soon dealt with that, in fact, that was a large part of my terms. I was called to attend her highness Mary Tudor. As everyone did in those days, she believed that she had the right to the throne.  But I must confess, I agreed with her, not that I actually gave a shit whichever way things went. I was not apart of their feudal ideologies, I was a proud individual.
O’how they looked down their elongated noses at me. I detest them, all of them. But she remembered me from her Father’s court. Of course I was a dirty little secret back then, still am. Henry Viii would not have his fierce reputation tarnished by one man, that man being me of course. But she remembered how they quivered in their tin suits and I left with just the shirt on my back to seek my revenge. Wondering if I would forever be plagued by overcast skies?
She summoned me to her private residence in East Anglia, where she met me alone, alone with her small army of loyalists mind you. I didn’t care. They couldn’t get to me. Well they could, but they didn’t know they could. Anyway, she told me how the Grey lady now sat in her seat, “in her fucking seat” “that fucking protestant bitch” I think were her exact words. Because her-half brother had somehow skipped past Mary because of her religion or some shit like that, I didn’t much care.
‘Get to the fucking point, my lady’ I demanded much to the annoyance of her first knight. He bristled, I eyed him without emotion, something must have triggered within him because he attempted to draw his sword. Of course I didn’t give him the chance. Before the tip of his blade left the refuge of its scabbard I was upon him. And I had sunk my dagger through his Adams apple and skipped back to roughly the same spot I was previously negotiating in. So yeah, I killed him. Mary held up her hands and slowly clapped once, twice, thrice as the rest of her knights looked on fearful.
‘Yes Lord Game, Yes! You will win me my throne and help me cut off that fucking bitches head, just like Father would have wanted. Now tell me what you want in return and it will be yours.’
I smiled, I had too, I virtually had a blank cheque written by the soon-to-be most powerful person in the known world. Heads were going to roll and I was going to get paid. Happy days.


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