George Boleyn/Mark Smeaton.
Very saddened by the fact that I have found next to nothing for this pairing, I have decided to fill the quota myself. It's just so much better in this time period...
-x-
The first time George Boleyn had seen Mark Smeaton, he had been both impressed and a little bit disgusted. The man was a peasant, obviously not used to the ways of court, if his forward manner was anything to go by, but he was also a charmer. This George could not deny. Smeaton weaved his boyish spell over all the ladies of the court, inviting them in with light-hearted conversation and smiles, making them feel like they could contribute. He was quick to gain the approval of almost everyone that way, and even the most pompous nobles of the court could not deny his musical talent: the reason for his being here. For indeed, the man was good – had the other musicians at the court been half as expressive…
George shook his head, smiling politely at one of the ladies as they passed him by, but his eyes remained routed to Smeaton, who was dazzling the court, specifically Anne, with his playing once more. Even Henry was smiling, though whatever made Anne happy had a tendency to make him happy as well, and it was almost funny to see just how in love he was with her, and how unabashedly he showed it, showering her with gifts and her family with titles.
"The things you do, Boleyn."
Shivering despite himself, George straightened his shoulders, as if the passing people could glimpse into his thoughts should he not. Even then, though, his eyes traced Smeaton's movements, watching as the man's nimble fingers flew across the violin, a smile on his face as his other hand manoeuvred the bow, his joy and exaltation so very apparent to even those that only spared him the barest of glances.
This, George thought possessively, this is what is mine.
At that moment, Smeaton glanced his way, and for a moment, even if it was just a short one, it was like they were alone again, candles lighting the room as the last notes of Mark's music slowly died away.
George inclined his head, a silent invitation as an accompanying smile pulled at his mouth.
Tonight? Was the silent question, one that Smeaton answered with a final note on the violin before he gave Boleyn a smile that shouldn't have made him want to hustle the musician out of the room like he did. But he would have Smeaton all to himself tonight, and he would be content with that.
He could hardly wait.