Author's Note: So, I realize that it's been a while since I've posted anything on this site, but I recently came up with this idea. This first chapter is a little short, but it's just to test the waters, you know? If it gets positive feedback, I'll be continuing it. Also, please note that this takes place somewhere between episodes eight and nine of the Tudors, but there will eventually be a one year time skip. Most likely after the next chapter. Anyways, rates and reviews are much appreciated.
But tell me now, where was my fault?
Chapter One - Part One
"I held your heart once."
Those five, one syllable words hung between the two royals in a bitter, regretful silence as they stared at one another from across the room. Anne's infamous stormy eyes glistened with unshed tears while the fiery passion that had tempted Henry so much was all but dimmed to ash and dying embers. The Queen's stance however, was as resolute and unyielding as her intentions upon entering Henry's chambers that night.
"You overstep your boundaries, madam." Henry's voice was tinged with underlying anger and the slightest hint of curiosity. Although he did not wish to deal with another of the woman's emotional fits, the King could only wonder at what would bring her to so brazenly seek out his chambers in the middle of the night. He nodded at the servant that guarded him during these late hours; indicating that he could leave the two of them alone.
"I loved you Henry," Anne continued in her own sad, hauntingly soft voice, once the door was closed behind the boy. "I love you still."
"You lied to me!" His voice swelled with the raging temper that had become one of his many trademarks. "You promised me sons that would be the very image of their father, and yet I am left with a daughter I cannot be sure is mine!"
Anne's face paled as her eyes flared to life for the first time that evening. Her nails stabbed at the flesh of her palms as her hands clenched into tightly wound fists. "You promised me that London would melt into the Thames before you ever stopped loving me!" The words were ripped from her memories and uttered in an almost unbearable cry. "Unless I've missed the herald, I don't believe that's happened, Your Majesty! You promised me love and honesty….now, well now, I am the most unhappy." Because, you stopped loving me. The words were unspoken; hanging silently between them in the tension drenched air. Her chest heaved against the strict confines of her corset as she breathed deeply and willed her tears away. There would be no crying; Anne had no more tears left to spare.
"And you dare question the legitimacy of your own daughter?" This time untold anger seeped through her dulcet tones as she stepped forward. "Think of me what you will, Henry, but Elizabeth is your daughter. She is your flesh and she is your blood! She is the only pure thing to come from our union, and I will not allow you diminish her."
"You will not allow me?" Henry scoffed at her words, a bemused smile quirking the corner of his lips despite the storm brewing within his chest. "You act as if you can control a King, Anne! Do not forget that I am the one who raised you to your station, and I can just as easily let you fall further than before!"
"So you keep reminding me," she yelled in return. "If it is so easy, why do you not do it, Henry? Be rid of me! Throw me into some dark oubliette and forget about me till the end of time!" Anne raised her chin defiantly; the long cascading tresses of her raven hair glistening like some dark halo as she stood against him. "Would it not please you? Would it not please your milk and honey whore?" Her hand lifted in the air as he made to grab roughly at her forearms, bidding his silence as if she were the one with all the power and he the consort.
"I will save you the trouble, Henry." Her eyes flickered like dying embers as she gazed into the orbs of deep blue that she had so foolishly fallen for. If only she had taken her Uncle's advice all those years ago and refused to allow her heart to speak for her in their scheme. If only she hadn't listened to her Uncle and her father in the first place. Anne had lost herself over the years. She'd become a diminished, bitter and burnt out husk of the woman that kept Henry's attention for seven years without relenting to his bed or having him seek the bed of another. She was stronger than this, and she needed to find that part of her again. If not for herself, than for the one thing that surmounted even this great and undying love she held for Henry. She had to protect her precious, beautiful work of art and the one proof of the love she and Henry had once shared: Elizabeth.
Slowly, and with every inch of grace the Queen possessed, Anne picked his fingers from first one arm and then the other as a sense of calm determination washed over her lithe form.
"Henry," she licked her parched flesh in an attempt to ease the words more easily past her lips, "I want a divorce."