Sheer Disbelief, a tudors fanfic

Mary opened the door of her bedchamber at the insistent rapping and started as her younger sister Anne stumbled in, her hair tumbling loose behind her, tears shining in her eyes.

"Anne! What's wrong?"

Shutting the door, Mary turned to Anne, inwardly thanking God that William Stafford had just left, even though she loved him with all her heart, the way she had once loved the King. Anne raised a tear-stained face to hers, and Mary knew. Just like Anne had known she would. Mary always knew. "Is it Henry?"

Not trusting her voice, Anne nodded and Mary crossed the room without another word – crossed it in two strides and caught her younger sister in her embrace. "Oh Anne!"

"He's doing it again. Courting another girl."

Mary didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. She just rocked her younger sister to and fro in her arms, and let her own memories wash over her.

I don't mind it
I don't mind at all
It's like you're the swing set
And I'm the kid that falls

She had always loved the King; right from her very first day as one of Queen Katherine's maids of honour, when he had noticed her with some surprise and then beckoned her over.

"Good morning, Mistress. What's your name?"

God, she had been struck dumb, unable even to form her own name with her lips as she dipped down into a curtsy and held it. Queen Katherine had saved her in the end, breaking in with her soft, heavily accented English "This is my new maid, husband. Mistress Marianne Boleyn."

King Henry had looked her up and down and then murmured "Marianne. A French name. A French name for an English rose. Strange. Strange, but I like it."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." The words had slipped from her lips and then she had been dismissed and she had had to withdraw to join the rest of Katherine's ladies, but she had been unable to pay attention to her sewing or even to the Bible reading for the rest of the King's visit. Despite her best efforts, the King captivated her, drew her eyes to him with his every movement. She had fallen for him then, fallen for him as hard as any moonstruck maiden falls for the object of her first crush.

It's like the way we fight
The times I've cried
We come to blows
And every night
The passion's there
So it's got to be right
Right?

"I could smell the whore on him. I struck him, Mary. I struck him. What was I thinking?" Anne's panicked voice broke into Mary's thoughts and she unpinned Anne's hood to stroke her raven hair as she held her.

"Shh. It'll be all right. He'll forgive you. He loves you, doesn't he? He might well call another girl to his bed during the day, but who does he visit every night? Who's going to be the one woman who's going to give him the heir he needs? It'll be you, Annie. You'll see."

"Do you think so?" Anne's voice was trembling, unsure. Mary nodded, her hands on Anne's shoulders.

"I know so."

No I don't believe you
When you say don't come around here no more
I won't remind you
You said we wouldn't be apart
No I don't believe you
When you say you don't need me anymore
So don't pretend to
Not love me at all

Then, out of the blue, he had started to return her feelings. He had started to court her, given her diamonds worth a fortune to wear in her ears, round her throat, in her hair. He had named a ship for her, taken her on progress with him instead of taking the Queen. He had told her that he wanted her for his Queen forever, called his Boleyn beauty, his darling, his beloved. They had had one golden summer together, playing the lover and his sweetheart rather than the King and his courtesan, but then, when Autumn came and they returned to Greenwich, it had all gone wrong. He had withdrawn from her, gone cold and distant, shunned her when she arrived in his bedchamber, expecting him to take her in his arms and kiss her as he used to.

She had been stunned; just the way Anne was now.

I don't mind it
I still don't mind at all
It's like one of those bad dreams
When you can't wake up
It's like you've given up
You've had enough
But I want more
No I won't stop
Because I just know
You'll come around
Right?

"I can't lose him, Mary. I can't! For Elizabeth's sake, I have to win him back to me, however I can."

"And you will, Anne. If you're sure of yourself, then you will. There's no one more determined than you. You'll win him back. I'm sure of it."

"He used to love me – love me for my own sake! Now it's as if he just tolerates me because there's no other choice. It's as if he's given up loving me. But I won't let him. I won't! I've been the mistress of his heart for seven long years, Mary. I know how to please him. That has to count for something."

"Of course it does." Mary soothed. "He'll come around, Anne. You're perfect for him. You just keep being yourself – the captivating exotic Boleyn beauty that I know you can be, and he'll come around. He'll have to."

She had even gone to his private chapel one morning after Mass, knowing she had one last trump card and determined to play it for all it was worth.

"Henry. Your Majesty."

"Yes, Lady Carey?" His eyes had been cold and hard that morning, as cold and as hard as the December frost on the ground outside, as he watched her curtsy before him. Greatly daring, she had reached out a supplicating hand to him. "May we talk? In private?"

He had stared at her, stared into her cornflower blue eyes with his own, until she whispered "Please. For old times' sake?"

He had taken one last look at her then, before dismissing the gentlemen around him with a jerk of his head. "What is it?" He asked shortly, impatient to be off as always.

"I'm with child." There, she had said it, blurted it out before she could stop herself. He couldn't cast her off now. He just couldn't!

"What? Why are you telling me? Tell your husband, why don't you?"

"But…it isn't William's. It is yours, Your Majesty. Your child. It could be your son."

A fleeting look of pure amazement crossed his face before he turned and strode away from her without another word, his face as black as thunder, his jaw set.

Just don't stand there and watch me fall
Because I, because I still don't mind at all

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty?" she had called after him. He didn't even look round as he shouted. "You are dismissed from Court, Lady Carey. I don't want to see you again."

She had stood still as he left her, stunned into silence. That wasn't how things had been meant to go at all. He had been supposed to love her again. After all, everyone knew the Queen was barren. He was supposed to have been thrilled at the thought of a child – even a natural child rather than one born in wedlock.

And yet, she couldn't even rail at him for being unfair. She just couldn't. Even then, amidst the depths of her despair, she had loved him too much for that. She had just stared after his retreating back, shocked to her very core and then she had turned and fled, fled to the privacy of her chamber where she had cried and cried, cried until she had cleansed her very soul.

It's like the way we fight
The times I've cried
We come to blows
And every night
The passions there
So it's got to be right,
Right?

"He still loves me. I can still arouse him, Mary. No matter what he says to me, no matter what I say to him, no matter what happens between us, I still arouse him." Anne repeated, as though she was trying to convince herself of what she was saying. Mary just held her sister silently, unable to think of anything to say.

"That has to mean I still mean something to him. It just has to! I refuse to believe that he really doesn't care for me any more. No, Mary. I'm going to keep him. I'm going to fight this harlot for him and I'm going to win. I am Anne, Queen of England and I shall remain Anne, Queen of England. I swear it on my very life."

Anne pushed away from Mary's chest and straightened her shoulders, tilting her head proudly. Even though her eyes were moist and her dress was creased, her face was alight with a sudden determination and she looked the very essence of a man's burning desire. She looked a force to be reckoned with.

As Anne opened the door and went out of it, calling for her maids as she went, Mary followed her slowly, watching her sister's ramrod back. Anne was on the warpath, but this time she was fighting with everything she had, because she wasn't just fighting for herself. She was fighting for her daughter, the infant Princess Elizabeth and for everything else she had, even, possibly, her own life. And what's more, she knew it. She was Anne Boleyn, Queen of England, Ireland and France, and she was the most determined woman in Christendom. She was not going to go down without a fight.

"The King's harlot, whoever she is, had better start treasuring her hours with Henry", Mary thought, "Because her days are numbered."