Author's Note: This idea came to me one night when I was, incidentally, getting ready to sleep. Since I started watching the Tudors, I have found myself feeling so sorry for Elizabeth and Anne. I am not sure if any of you have had a feeling like I have described in this one-shot, but I know that I have felt like someone is actually protecting me while I sleep. I know that someone is watching over me, just like I imagined Anne would do for her daughter after she lost her head on the Tower scaffold. So, onto the one-shot.
There was calmness in Whitehall, and each person knew that it was meant to be that way. Anne Boleyn was dead. Henry the Eighth was to marry Jane Seymour, his last mistress during his marriage to Anne. Elizabeth was sent to Hatfield, as her father really wanted nothing more to do with her. The whore had fallen, and the lion was to wed a timid and significant mouse.
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Now, Hatfield was not calm. Located in Hertford, it was a good distance from London. The Lady Mary was there as well, though rumours were beginning to spread that she was to return to Court in the fall. The Lady Elizabeth, as she was now to be called, had not fully grasped what exactly had happened to her mama. No soul was to speak a word of it. Lady Bryan was helping prepare her charge for a nap, knowing that it was the least any of them could do for the little girl.
"I want Mama," the young girl said, looking up at her governess.
Lady Bryan did not answer her, but kept on washing Elizabeth's face. The expression that had spread across her countenance betrayed just how tired she really was. She had no idea what happened to her mother, but not one person wanted to tell her what had transpired on the tower Green. Once Lady Elizabeth was in her little shift, Lady Mary gently picked up her sister. Anne Boleyn may not have been her favourite person, but the daughter should not be blamed for the sins and shortcomings of her mother. The child yawned, her hand reaching up to rub her eyes.
Looking up at her sister, she asked, "Where is Mama?"
Mary shook her head before she replied, "Wherever she is, know that she is watching over you. My own mother is always watching over me."
Elizabeth was about to say something in response when she yawned, her eyes closing slightly. Mary chuckled a little, placing a tender kiss on her half-sister's head. Arriving at the girl's room, the pair entered. Mary slowly set her little sister on the bed, lingering slightly. She sighed and turned away from the bed, walking out of the room. Back inside, Elizabeth was pleasantly sleeping. When she was asleep, nothing could disturb her. Hatfield had been her most constant home, even more constant than Whitehall.
She rolled onto her side, her left hand going to cover her face. It was a definite habit of hers, another way to shut out any light that let her know the day had arrived. There was a scent of rosewater, crisp vanilla mingling at intervals. Elizabeth recognized the scent, yet she did not make any movements. Warmth enveloped her, an unseen force repositioning her hand. It was Anne's ghost, visiting her daughter.
"Sleep soundly, my darling rose. I am watching you, protecting you from any harm. Respect your father; he does love you with all his heart. You will make a wonderful queen when you are older," the ghost said, stroking her daughter's hair.
Elizabeth rolled over and whispered, "I love you, Mama."
The spectre stepped back, unclasping her necklace. In death, it seemed, one regained their most prized possession. Placing a tender kiss on the "B," she sighed and gently placed the necklace on her daughter's pillow. Closing her eyes, she placed one last kiss on her daughter's forehead. Hearing footsteps, the spectre vanished in a swish of succulent silk. Mary glanced in the room, her gaze sweeping the area. She shrugged and continued, seeing that her sister was safe.
Opening her eyes, Elizabeth slowly sat up. Her gaze landed on the necklace and she picked it up. "She was here," she whispered, tears rolling down her face. Even though her nap was done, she still felt the warmth of her mother's caring touch.
P.S.: Please remember that reviews are love. 3
P.P.S.: For all those who read Providence, I will get to work on updating that as soon as possible. My process is that I write it down in a notebook before I type it up, though that is only because the way my writing style works. Oh, and be on the lookout for a new addition to my collection titled Reflections. This will be a collection of song-fics, and I will take suggestions in the reviews for this or through Private Messages.