January 1522

As the auburn haired beauty that was Anne Boleyn walked through the snow and into the decorated hallways of Greenwich Palace she contemplated how things had changed in her time away from England. Returning to England had been a dream, she'd done her duty accompanying Mary Tudor, the King's sister to France for her marriage to Francis I, she served Queen Claude in the royal court of Burgundy and revelled in the freedom of learning she had there. She excelled under her guidance and care, her lute playing was the envy of the court, she mastered languages and learnt through some of the French and Burgundy lords matters of politics and religion. Something she knew would be frowned upon in the country of her birth where women served only one purpose, to be bedded and provide men with heirs.

Male heirs.

She watched her father approach her, his face filled with happiness at her return – it was with some trepidation that she returned the smile and curtseyed to him. A happy Thomas Boleyn meant only one thing – he and her Uncle, Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk has undoubtedly been plotting the rise of the Howard and Boleyn family once more.

"Father..."

"Daughter, you look beautiful – the French air has suited you but it is good to have you home."

She did as was expected, curtseyed once more before making finding herself being escorted towards the one of the main rooms in the palace – she was to meet the King. After all, she was to join her sister Mary Carey as a maid of honour to the Queen Consort, Catherine of Aragon. Anne had been in this roll for three of the greatest women, the Archduchess Margaret of Austria, Queen Mary of France and Burgundy, Queen Claude of France and Burgundy and now Catherine. Her father and Uncle were delighted.

Her return to England was to be a happy one, she was to marry James Butler, 9th Earl of Ormond, the future was looking bright for the youngest daughter and middle child of the Earl of Wiltshire. He was a good man though Anne knew the marriage was one of convenience that had been orchestrated by the men in her life, to manage and resolve a dispute over the Earldom of Ormond involving her father. No one married for love it seemed, not even His Highness, King Henry VIII. Making her way through the room, her eyes locked ahead she wasn't aware of the man eyes that stared at her. Her arrival had been spoken about behind closed doors by many, the cynics believing that she was back at court for her father and Uncle to gain a closer bond to his Highness and not to do with the marriage.

Her great beauty was duly noted by many, and the young page of Thomas Wolsey, and son of the 5th Earl of Northumberland, Henry Percy was one amongst many others. It was a brief locking of eyes between the pair that sparked a natural curiosity in Anne, and she found herself breaking the emotionless mask she'd been wearing to meet his Highness and Queen Catherine and gave the young man a smile that was quickly hidden away.

Anne found herself standing before the King himself, his face filled with disinterest at something his Queen was saying. It was known throughout the many courts of Christendom that his marriage to Queen Catherine of Aragon was not as strong as it had once been. With no heir to the throne, or rather male heir living, Henry it was well known, had taken many a lady as a mistress only to cast her to Charles Brandon before his marriage to the Kings sister, or his other close friends. The man who had intrigued her, how could he not – he was seen to be the greatest King in the whole of Christendom and he had an aura about him that made you want to know him, to be close to him. Waiting patiently at her fathers side for him to see her, Anne thought of the whispers she'd heard in her own rooms between her maids. Henry was supposed to have taken her own sister, Mary Carey to his bed – she doubted very much that this was down to Mary or even Henry in a way but the arrogance and desire for power that her Uncle possessed. If the rumours were true, and Anne was determined to find out if they were from her Father, things for the Boleyn would or could change dramatically if Mary became a favourite of the King and even more so if she conceived a son that he would acknowledge as his own. After all, Elizabeth Blount had given birth to a son, Henry, some eighteen months ago and he had been acknowledged as his illegitimate son by the King.

Still holding her body in a deep curtsey she waited and wondered just what made a mans eyes wander – marriage was a union seen by God and God would see the betrayal of the husband surely? It was not her place to question it, she knew that but she hoped that when she married her cousin that it would be a happy one, a joyous one blessed with children and years of contentment and good health for them both.

The gold detailing of her dress shimmered in the sunlight and she heard her Father make the formal introduction to his highness, his eyes boring into her as he took her in, even from her position in a deep curtsey she saw the look in his eyes. Curiosity. It was true, that their first meeting some years before had led to him becoming angry with her... her quick mouth had been her undoing it was only her friendship with Mary and her father's position as Ambassador to France that had led to her being allowed to accompany Mary to the court of Francis.

"This cannot be the Lady Anne Boleyn surely, If it is her, why do I not find myself on the receiving end of her harsh tongue? The Lady Anne I knew was not as demure as the lady before me now..."

So, the games had already begun it seemed. Henry of course knew who she was - he had seen her when she'd visited Mary who was heavily pregnant with another child, known to be Henry's and Lord willing another son.

"I was led to believe that the King of England was a wise man, and graced with a great mind and a memory that never forgot a face... Has it been too long your Majesty? Must I search for a wise man and not the one who wishes to talk to me?"

The room was silent.

Anne knew that she was on dangerous ground but she had become too used to speaking her mind. Nonetheless she waited for his response... and it wasn't what she imagined it would be. His deep laughter filled the room as he left his chair and stood before her, his handsome face filled with a smile and his eyes glittering. Anne found herself having to remember her sister was carrying his child - her heart was racing as he took her tiny hands in his and kissed her fingers.

"Mistress Anne you are quite changed... I would not have recognised you as the child who left court. You are most welcome and I wish you a prosperous Christmas."

She felt his eyes on her as she returned to her seat... throughout the celebration she would catch the eyes of Henry and Charles Brandon upon her... and the Queen. How she longed to scream out that she was not the same as the rest of the women here at court, she knew her mind – and her mind said she would be a wife to James and not a mistress to Henry. Her marriage may have been arranged as had so many but it would be one filled with love, Anne would make it so. What Anne Boleyn wanted – she invariably got.

Anne wanted a marriage to a man who respected her, challenged her and loved her and no other.

Anne Boleyn would not become a mistress to any man... she would become a wife. Still, it didn't stop her heart racing thinking of Henry and how he had kissed her hand. The man had awoken a passion in her, a passion she knew would have to stay dormant – it did not serve a woman well to desire the King. Especially if you were a Maid of Honour to her gracious highness, Catherine. A lady Anne respected and pitied, she had given Henry a daughter and despite many pregnancies no son, Henry's patience was wearing thin and his wrath at his wife would be directed at anyone who displeased him.

The New Year celebrations were in full swing as both Mary and Anne found themselves being asked to join in the dance that was to take place... something that Catherine had planned for Henry to please him. The Queen and his gracious Majesty were still at their table, something that was uncommon – Catherine often left before Henry, to go to mass or to visit the Princess Mary. It appeared that the New Year celebrations had encouraged the couple to stay longer...

Looking towards them both, Anne couldn't help but notice the change in Henry and Catherine. His face was now filled with curiosity and a smile that made his already handsome feature become even more enhanced as he watched the ladies fill the floor. Catherine had indeed pleased him but not for the reason she would believe. Catherine was known for her dances, it had been sometime since she had taken part but she knew that elaborate colours and moves pleased her husband and put weeks into preparing them with the court musicians and her ladies in waiting.

Henry tolerated the jesters and many members of his court he tried to engage him in conversation over possible attacks on the various enemies of the country. The new year, tonight, was not a time for business but for pleasure and to drink many goblets of wine and eat the many luxurious foods laid before him. Time ticked by before he saw the large square before him empty of dancers and his sister leave her chair – it would appear she was to partake in the dance along with the Queen's household. There had been such a change in Mary since he had told her of Lady Anne Boleyn planned return to court, he knew very little of Anne – except her quick wit and the fact she acted so unlike a lady of the English court. She was a breath of fresh air, both her and her sister in different ways. Henry couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as he thought of Mistress Mary Carey – her beauty shone through and she was a very willing and capable bed companion, Henry had a feeling that she would be his companion for some time. She had him intrigued in a similar way as Elizabeth had had at one time.

The musicians began to play as the rest of the Maids of Honour entered the room in dresses of white and cream, a stark contrast to the many bright colours and black around the room. Every eye in the room was on the Princess Mary and the seventeen ladies around her as the moved with grace around the room – the eyes of one woman were held by the Kings gaze. Mary Carey. Anne Boleyn moved herself with poise, remembering each step perfectly and held her head high despite wishing to avert her eyes from the many men who were watching the ladies move, she was sure she felt the eyes of Henry Percy on her as she turned and twirled around. It was hard to miss as she turned to face the main table once more and saw him sitting there, Charles Brandon frozen behind him watching his wife doing her main part of the repertoire. The dance carried on for several more minutes earning lots of cheers and clapping before the music changed and the dancers found themselves facing partners... Charles and Mary were looking at one another with deep love and it was wonderful to see. Anne however found herself looking into the eyes of the man she knew should have been dancing with his wife, or her sister... not her. Anne was to dance with Henry himself – she could not refuse him so instead swallowed deeply, tilted her head in defiance to the entire room who were no doubt either green with envy or holding their breath to see what the Queen would do. He quietly asked her questions about her health, about her sister... it would please her family to know the King was asking after Mary, that she was still very much in his thoughts and favour. The music was new to her, but the movement was similar to other dances she had done in the last few months, it was when their hands touched that Anne nearly lost her step, there was something in the way their hands fitted together, as if made for one another that made her almost stumble. They were not made for one another – he was a man who had a Queen, a lady who Anne would serve with pride. He also bedded her sister, Henry, King of England was not made for her. She belonged to no man except her father for now and soon she would belong to James.

His hand shot behind her and pulled her upright just in time – a look of horror upon her face made him move his hand and bow before escorting her from the floor.

"My Lady... I apologise I did not mean to startle you... I hope you are not hurt?"

Was it her imagination or did every eye in the court stare at her as the King voiced his concern? Did they see her already as a new bed companion to his highness?

She held her head high and smiled at Henry before dropping into a deep curtsey.

"My Lord, I merely stumbled – the dance is new to me and I was unsure of the steps. I assure you I am quite well."

Henry took in her white skin and shining eyes, she did indeed seem well – maybe it had been a mistake to dance with the girl. Kissing her hand albeit briefly, he returned to Catherine thanking her for planning the dance and led her away.

Anne saw the look on her Uncle's face – tonight Henry would not call for Mary Carey tonight, he would lie with his Queen. Her Uncle was displeased, how this was Anne's fault was beyond her understanding but she was well used to the irrational mind of a man.