Okay well I don't have time to write a fanfic because of final exams so I have instead done a series of short pieces based on one word for every letter of the alphabet, they all link together, I will update as often as I can. Please review and tell me what you think. I own nothing.

Anger

She was known for her quick tongue and sharp wit, but Charles preferred her in anger, when her calculated, strong, controlled façade dropped and the fiery, passionate, frightened woman beneath was on full display. Anne's yells and cries were then unfiltered, everything she felt and thought leaked out for him to examine at will, it was the only time she was real anymore, it was the only time he knew where he stood with her, as her almost cold queen exterior left him wondering. Anne would unleash her fury on him, let out her fear because he was the only outlet for it.

Blush

Charles Brandon loved to make women blush, the telling sign of their attraction to him. He could make even the most in control women weak at the knees with a perfectly executed smirk, from pretty shades of pink to embarrassing reds he rejoiced in being the cause of them. But no one wore a blush better than Anne Boleyn, a beautiful rouge would tint her cheeks and unlike many maidens her eyes did not lower or flutter in discomfort but they looked straight on into his with amusement and unashamed longing.

Cruelty

Anne Boleyn had seen much cruelty in her life, her family exceled at causing it. But the biggest unjustness continued to be the Boleyn's fatal ambition, their suffocating need for more money, land and position, the Howards were just as bad if not slightly worse they had an all-consuming desire for more, so much so they were ready to sacrifice a daughter, a niece to a fickle king in the hopes of grandeur. But Anne loved them all the same how could she not they were her family, and in truth she had liked the king, he had an intensity that drew her in like a moth to a flame, but no matter how much she cared for henry at the back of her mind there always remained the thought of the man she couldn't have, the man who already owned her heart. It continued to be a contest source of cruelty in her life that Charles Brandon was denied to her.

Dreams

It was the dreams she had about him that weren't erotic, that when she woke left an emptiness in her soul and an aching in her heart. She couldn't just lie in his arms and sleep, she couldn't just laugh and talk openly to him anymore, Anne was watched by both her enemies and her family, her every move was judged and examined and anything that didn't seem right or didn't fit would be immediately reported to the king or even worse his advisers who would then twist her actions and words into the most incriminating natures to put her in ill favour with the king.

Edward

She couldn't stand to see or hear about Edward as that boy was a contest reminder of Charles's joining with that Catherine Willoughby bitch. The pride in which Charles looked on to the boy was a knife to Anne's heart, it was kick in the stomach proof that it was a proper marriage and that at least in Charles's eyes some good had come of it. The scrawny little self-righteous catholic was always whispering hateful thing about Anne in Charles's ear, and it was Anne's greatest fear that one day Charles would simple succumb to Catherine's reasoning. There were moments where he would look at Anne and dread would fill her, as in his eyes there was just that bit more of a hateful glint.

France

They had met in France during the first attempt at a peace treaty, in the palace of illusions. Anne had been with her sister Mary watching on at the wrestling match between King Francis and King Henry. Neither Henry nor Charles had immediately stood out for her instead she had found amusement in the way Mary had greedily glazed at the king of England. An ill-timed laugh had escaped her lips when Mary at the point of drooling got knocked into by the pair of aggressive kings, causing the spilling her wine over both of them, but being to tipsy to truly care about such a thing Anne merely laughed, but as she turned her head back towards the fight she saw a man staring right at her, he was obviously part of the English party as he stood with two other nobleman cheering on Henry with loud yells and claps. He gave her a 'charming' smirk and against her will Anne felt her face heat up, which only severed to make her blush more but instead of giving him the satisfaction of being bashful, she smirked right back at him. She wouldn't see him again until the dance of the graces.

Gamble

She was now in a dangerous gamble, of which her life hung in the balance. Her words and actions all determined the outcome, but in the end it all lie with a king notorious for being inconsistent and spiteful even to the point of viciousness. Charles was left to watch, there was little he could do, even less that he could say to turn the odds in her favour. Also Anne wasn't doing herself any favours either, her passionate feisty nature was working against her, she was in every way Henry's equal, and that was something Henry was increasing growing to resent. She was drinking more too, he rarely saw her in public without a goblet of some sort of wine, he tried to get her to listen to him to stop and think but that only seem to anger her.

Harsh

She heard the gossip around court, she had more enemies every day and now according to the rumours Charles Brandon was among them. A whore is what they whispered that he had called her. Anne hated him then, because the rumour was probably true, she knew he sympathized with Katherine of Aragon, but calling her a whore was harsh. She hated every fibre of his being and loved it all just as much. And he was just as bad, they both had some sick need to taste the forbidden, to have what is not theirs, to possess what is not allowed to them. "Why him?" she had questioned when the king had placed trust in Charles, "he hates me" she had felt sick saying the words as she knew them to be true, "well he loves me" she had wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

Idiot

Idiot she had called him with a laugh, it had been a carefree laugh, light with happiness. It was haunting her now, the reminder of when she thought the king would grow tired of her regardless of what she did, when she had thought that she would be with Charles eventually after the King tossed her aside. Now she knew she was the fool for being naive enough to think it would be that easy that simple, that the king would let Charles have her, that her family would let her walk away from such opportunities, she was the real idiot.