Andrew Boleyn
The King's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "That dagger? Who gave it to you?"
The young man washing his feet sighed and handed the water to a maid.
"Answer me!" the King hissed.
The man stood and wiped his hands. "Her Majesty."
The King pulled him closer. His hand ran over the different jewels embedded in the hilt.
"Expensive, huh? And expensive little varlot!" The King said in Russian.
"I am no varlot, Your Majesty. I love her Majesty. I believe she loves me."
The king smirked. "She is infatuated by you. As women often are by new things. But she will tire of you like all the others."
Andrew stood taller, challenging him. "And what if she does not?"
The King stood and drew his sword. Pointing it directly at Andrew's throat.
"I did not give you permission to speak! You are a servant! Leave now or I will spill your blood where you stand, boy!"
xxxxXxxxxxxx
"Brother. Here is a new musician. Her name is Alice Smeaton," Sarah Boleyn said.
Andrew smiled charmingly. "How do you do, Miss Smeaton?"
"She likes to be called just plain Alice, brother."
Andrew's eyes widen in pretend shock. "How could she possibly be called plain?" he said as he kissed her hand.
Alice smiled and curtsied. "Your Grace, it's a great pleasure."
xxxxXxxxxxxxxxx
The court gasped Andrew Boleyn walked through the door. The Russian ambassador looked around in confusion. She turned to the person closest to her. Which happened to be Andrew's sister, Sarah Boleyn.
"What has he done?" she asked.
Sarah leaned closer. "Purple is the color of royalty."
Andrew stopped in front of the King's closet groomsmen. His voice vibrated throughout the Great Hall. "You know I sometimes wish that all Russians were at the bottom of the sea."
"Lord Boleyn, you should not abuse the King's honor with such language!" one of them said.
"I care nothing for Edward. I would rather see him hanged than acknowledge him as my lord and master!"
xxxxXxxxxxx
Andrew stopped a young girl carrying linen. "You there! Halt!"
"Sir?" she curtsied.
"Where do you take this linen?"
"To the Queen's Majesty."
"Why?"
"So she can make shirts for His Majesty. As she always has done."
He snatched the linen form her and sent her away. Andrew burst through Helen's chamber's.
She smiled and stood. "Darling."
"How could you?"
"What?"
"The shirts." He threw the linen at her feet. "You still make his shirts! How could you?"
Helen scoffed and walked in her inner chambers. Andrew followed.
"You said there was nothing intimate between you anymore."
"There isn't." At his look of disbelief she sighed in frustration.
"What intimate? They're just shirts for Christs' sake!"
"No! They are not just shirts. They are you and me. They are you and him!"
"I don't understand," she replied helplessly.
"Then ought to!" He sighed in frustration. "It's quite hard when we're to be married, but he's still here! You can't have three people in a marriage. Why can't you see that?!"
xxxxXxxxxxxxx
"Monsieur le Duc."
Andrew rolled his eyes and smiled. "No. Just brother."
Matthew hugged him. "How are you brother?" He smiled knowingly.
"How are all three of you?"
Andrew smirked. "We are all very well."
His voice dropped a bit. "Listen. The Queen and I have been to visit a famous astrologer who confirmed what the physicians say, and what I know in my heart, that's it's a girl."
Matthew clapped him on the back. "Well done!"
He grinned, pure happiness and triumph shining in his eyes. "The Queen is overjoyed. She keeps wanting to tell people but I tell her not to." He chuckled. "Not yet anyway."
xxxxxXxxxxxx
Andrew pulled Alice close to him. "Can you guess what?"
"No," she studied him carefully. "What is it?"
"The Queen has been having a mad craving for apples. Stronger than anything ever before."
"Apples?" she asked in confusion.
"Yes. Apples. It started five days ago." He pulled away and chuckled lowly. His eyes full of mirth and amusement.
"The Queen believes it to be a sign that she is pregnant, but I say it is nothing of the sort."
xxxxXxxxxx
A strong cry from the baby reached her ears. She cried because she already knew it wasn't the Princess of Wales she had hoped for.
One of her ladies comforted her. "Your Majesty has given birth to a healthy baby boy."
After she had been cleaned and made presentable Andrew came in. His eyes filled with tears and he knelt at her bedside. He kissed her hand.
"I'm so sorry."
Helen took a deep breath to calm herself. She kissed his forehead and rubbed his cheek.
"This is just a slight step back. You and I are still young and, by the grace of God, girls will follow."