Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, only my own characters and the storyline.
Author's Note: Please don't get worked up if you feel a character you like is being unfairly portrayed, all of my characters are going to have flaws and bad sides to them because I want to make them human. Also all physical characteristics and personalities are based on characters from the series, not their historical counterparts. I hope you enjoy and reviews will be warmly welcomed.
1526
Anne Boleyn walked down the aisle of Westminster Abbey, arm in arm with her snow haired father. Her own hair, which was as dark as the midnight sky, hung loosely down her back and was capped with a sparkling tiara of silver and diamonds. A gift from her soon-to-be husband who had inherited it upon his mother's death, intended as a gift for his future bride.
Anne was slow and graceful as she floated down the aisle, making sure that everyone had plenty of time to admire her and her beautiful gown of silver velvet and damask. She had wanted to wear gold but she had been told numerous times that gold was a colour reserved for the Queen, a fact that she accepted in her usual sulking manner. Purple, she had argued, was the colour associated with royalty, not gold. But they were adamant on the matter and so she resigned herself to silver.
"Silver is far more befitting. I've always found gold to be vulgar any way" she had stated as though the suggestion for a gold wedding dress had come from another. Her ladies and dress maker merely rolled their eyes and played along with her little game.
She no longer cared.
She was getting married. She was the centre of attention. She was marrying into royalty and would be the most important woman in the Kingdom. After Queen Katherine and her daughters of course. But soon those snooty ladies she had once had to curtsey to would now be curtseying to her. She felt almost drunk on the power. She had plans for them, yes great plans. For herself, her family but most of all for England.
That is not to say that Anne was not marrying her husband for love. It had taken six months of being harassed and pestered by Henry Tudor, the Duke of York, before she finally gave into his advances and allowed him to pay court to her. She had previously been in love with Harry Percy for years but she had quickly grown to realise that it would not come to fruitation despite the couple's passionate feelings towards each other. His family and even the great Cardinal Wolsey disapproved of their union for unknown reasons and had managed to persuade the weak willed Harry into giving Anne up and marrying a more worthier candidate, leaving Anne to nurse a broken heart. But barely a season had passed before she encountered King's Arthur's handsome younger brother and she had managed to captivate him entirely.
At first she found it annoying that Prince Henry kept chasing after her like a little lost puppy, pinning after her and writing her pathetic proses proclaiming his undying love for her. What's more, she was angry he was taking such great lengths to harass her when it was rumoured that he would soon be marrying a French princess for diplomatic reasons. After all, she had her reputation to think about. She convinced herself it was only a silly infatuation on his part and that he was trying to worm his way into her bed, just like the French King had done with her sister. But she eventually came to realise that he loved her for more purer reasons than she had originally believed.
He loved her for being herself.
She wasn't like other women. She had a brain and wasn't afraid to use it. She had opinions and dared to voice them. And she didn't conform. Whilst other ladies at court wore stuffy English fashions and stiff gable hoods she flounced about in the latest Venetian and Parisian gowns her father had acquired for her on his travels. And most shocking of all, she dared to read forbidden books. She had a ferocious appetite for knowledge and spent hours at a time reading banned books that had to be smuggled into the the country. It was even rumoured that she was a Lutheran and was preaching her gospel to Prince Henry. And all this made Henry love her even more because she was her own person. She was unconventional and didn't care what anyone had to say about it.
But the qualities that made Anne so intriguing to Henry were qualities that made the deeply pious Queen Katherine despair about their union.
"Why do you look on so sternly, my love? It is meant to be a joyous occasion" King Arthur observed as he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that his wife was glaring at the approaching bride, her jaw tightening considerably as though she were grinding her teeth together.
"I find little to rejoice about" was Katherine's cold reply, her eyes never leaving Anne as she walked past her. She observed how the candle light bounced off the back of her metallic coloured dress and caused it to shimmer like tiny little stars, making her look even more like the celestial heavens against the backdrop of her dark hair.
Anne had reached the foot of the altar now, and Thomas Boleyn had bowed his head to the Prince before placing his daughter's hand within Henry's. He leant in and kissed his daughter affectionately upon the cheek, but before parting with his daughter forever he shot her a look. A proud smirk. Katherine's keen hawk eyes caught the smirk and she began to ponder upon it. Was this a happy pride, knowing that his beloved child had secured herself a happy, comfortable marriage with a man who adored her. Or was it that the overly ambitious father could now claim kin to royalty and be free to manipulate the fickle prince, who in turn could easily manipulate his doting brother the King? She thought the latter sounded the most plausible and her heart dropped into her stomach at the idea.
"Why is that?" Arthur enquired, not out of ignorance, for he knew right well that his wife detested the Boleyn girl.
He purposely wished to goad her for ruining the happy atmosphere at such a joyous event. It was his brother's wedding and Henry had the great privilege of marrying for love. He envied him for being able to have the choice to pick his own bride, but he did not resent him for it. He was happy that his brother's life was not dictated by the stern rules and regulations that controlled what a King could or could not do. And Arthur certainly did not want his brother's special day to be ruined by jealous women like his wife who felt threatened by a pretty and spirited girl like Anne, who in truth Arthur was quite fond of.
Arthur fully believed that the true root of Katherine's dislike for Anne stemmed through jealousy, though he was sure that if he had confronted her on the matter she would have vehemently denied it.
She was jealous that Anne was young and so was capable of producing sons for her husband, a duty that Katherine herself had failed in, though she had produced three beautiful daughters who were stood beside them now, admiring how perfectly splendid Anne's wedding gown was. She was jealous that Anne was pretty and vivacious, with her long ebony hair and her captivating blue eyes that could stop a man in their tracks. She was jealous that her smile could seduce any man into doing her bidding, that she was lively and sprightly upon her feet, especially when she was dancing.
Although Katherine had been an infamous beauty during her youth, and Arthur swore to this day that he had never witnessed a more beautiful woman than her on her wedding day, time was beginning to catch up with her and her looks were starting to fade. Her thick, jet black hair was now beginning to thin out and was streaked with grey. Her once flawless and perfectly smooth face was shrivelling with wrinkles. Big purple bags covered half of her face whilst crows feet had marked the edge of her now lacklustre eyes. Her figure had swollen, her breasts had drooped and she found that she could barely seduce her husband any more, never mind the handsome young courtiers that seemed to follow Anne about like dogs to their master.
In truth there were probably countless reasons as to why the Queen had taken a dislike to Anne Boleyn, for they were as different as night and day. Katherine was mild mannered, regal and pious. She spent hours kneeling in prayer or confession and her rosary or crucifix was her accessory of choice. Anne in the meanwhile, was all fire and wind. She had an explosive temper, a sharp tongue and was always on the go; whether she was hunting, watching the joust or dancing deep into the night. There was no stopping her. But the true reason for Katherine's unrelenting hatred towards the girl, at least this what she told herself every time she tried to justify the sin of anger in her prayers, was regarding religion.
"You know very well the rumours that are circulating about...about...that girl" she could not even bear to speak her name. To her, it was as if the name Anne Boleyn was the most foul and evil curse word imaginable.
"And what rumours might they be?" Arthur further feigned ignorance, and he could see Katherine growing tenser all the while as she tried to suppress her fury.
"That she is a heretic" she whispered loud enough to be heard by her three daughters, who had startled and looked at their mother as if to enquire "who is a heretic, Mama?"
"There is no proof that she is a heretic" Arthur defended the girl who was currently unable to defend herself. She was too busy staring deeply into her love's eyes as he spoke his vows to her and proclaimed undying love. "Why should it even bother you?"
"I will not suffer a heretic in my court"
"Harry loves her, and so I will love her. As will you" was his diplomatic reply, though it was less of a request and more of an order.
You will love her like a sister or else will suffer the consequences was what he was saying to her in plain terms.
Yes, he had an affection for the girl. He couldn't quite place his finger upon why he liked her, but he knew he liked her all the same. And if Harry loved her, Arthur would grow to love her too and he would treat her as if she was his own sister. This would be a great protection from would be enemies who might try to bring her down.
If Katherine chose to follow up on her vendetta against the Boleyns, she knew she would find herself alone for Arthur would do everything in his power to stop her from causing harm to Henry and his loved ones. But deep down Arthur already knew that things would never get that far. Katherine might be a passionate woman with firm beliefs and opinions, but she was nothing less than the perfect Queen. She would never reveal her true feelings or make a spectacle of herself in private, never mind in public. Sure, there might be the odd cold word or look aimed in the general direction of the Boleyns, but they would bear it well enough and life would go on as usual. Katherine was too gracious to stoop to the level of a common factional courtier.
She expelled a silent sigh and the let the matter come to an end, begrudgingly watching as Anne made her vows to love, honour and obey her husband. And as she did so, Katherine began to gather her all her emotions regarding the girl and started to push these vindictive personal feelings down into the depths of her subconscious, to fester there deep inside of her like some terminal disease. In truth she knew she was being irrational about the girl, but she could not stand that a heretic was to become royalty. And what if she managed to convert Henry into her way of thinking?
Sure, Henry was a grown man and knew his own mind well enough, but he was also open to new ideas and modern ways of thinking. He was easy to manipulate, as seen by the company he kept in Charles Brandon, Anthony Knivert and even Cardinal Wolsey, whom he loved like a father. They were all masters in the art of manipulation, and all you had to do win Henry over was to make him believe it was his idea first. Katherine also knew that he was a hopeless romantic and would walk on water to please his lady love. Would Henry really be so weak minded in regards to his God and faith? Katherine prayed endlessly that he would not, but her head was telling her that it was entirely possible.
The ceremony was followed by a day of pageants, feasting and finally dancing. The whole court was merry, for their had not been a royal wedding in England since that of the King and Queen's, well over 25 years ago. Even Katherine had managed to cheer up as she sat upon her throne, sipping her specially imported wine from Spain and taking great delight in watching her husband dance with her ladies-in-waiting whilst she tapped her foot in time to the tempo of the music. Her only regret in growing old was that she was no longer the fine dancer she used to be, and her sore leg prevented her from ever becoming too active in times like these.
Finally, it was time for the toast. Arthur rose up from his throne, a little worst for drink, and he began to speak about how much he loved his younger brother, and that he has never seen Henry look as happy as when he is with Anne. He wished them a long and happy life together, filled with love and many children, though he diplomatically avoided using the word 'sons' in case he offended Katherine. And as he came to the conclusion of his speech, he lifted his golden chalice from off the table in front of him and thrust it up into the air, spilling half of it's burgundy contents all over the floor.
"To Henry and Anne" he toasted and then proceeded to take a hearty gulp of the sweet wine.
"TO HENRY AND ANNE!" the rest of the court chorused in a similar drunken manner, and they too rose from the chairs and lifted their goblets into the air whilst cheering and clinking their cups together in celebration for the newly wedded couple. But by this time, every one was too drunk to have noticed that the newly weds had slipped off unnoticed into their bedchamber to spend their first night as husband and wife in each other's arms.