Seeing her husband with another woman was more painful in reality then it was in her dreams. It was true, he was gone, and she had lost him.
"How could you?" She spoke in only a whisper. Looking at her feet, unable to meet the eyes of the lovers before her. She couldn't move, she could barely breathe. Taking in gaps of air as she silently sobbed.
"Anne." Henry called to her. He stood from his seat and motioned for Jane to leave, which she did in haste. He watched her go with thoughts of what could have been. When the door finally closed, he turned to his wife. She wasn't looking at him. She looked to be straggling to breathe as she clenched onto her pregnant stomach. She was stressing herself with this. Suddenly she began to fall to the ground, he hurried to catch her.
She body went cold and she could feel herself falling but she had gone to numb to stand anymore. Why couldn't she be like other Queens before her? See and know but don't show feeling towards anything. She was only hurting herself and her unborn child with this stress and torment.
Just before she hit the ground, warm, strong arms grabbed her up. Henry. Full out sobs consumed her then; she could no longer hold them back. He hugged her close as she cried, sometimes rocking back and forth or just rubbing her back.
"Anne. Please stop crying." Henry whispered, it sounded painful in her ear. But it has now been proven that he no longer cared for her, so why would it hurt him to see her crying. I need a change, she thought, if he no longer wants me as a lover, if he wants the silent queen and wife then she would give him just that. It would take some practice and control to stop her anger and voice when things happen but she was sure after a while it would be second nature to her.
Henry was surprised when she actually stopped her crying. He felt her pull away, so he moved to see her face. He expected to see her anger, scorned eyes; to hear her scream and yell at him for what he had done but he got none of that. Instead her face was lifeless and cold, void of any emotion. Her blue eyes were like ice, they pierced him right to his heart.
She push off him to stood, her stomach was too large to do it alone. He stood with her, watching her wipe her face with the sleeve of her elegant gown. He was hoping they could speak now but as he began to form words, Anne curtsied still emotionless. He was confused, where was the fight and anger he knew would follow this site?
"Your majesty," she whispered before turning and leaving him in the room alone with his thoughts. His face was one of grave confusion. Never had his wife, Anne Boleyn, let something like this go without a scene. He was ready for it, the tears and the screaming from her. He got nothing, not even a scowl from her. Maybe she finally learned her place in matters such as these, but it was just so unlike her. He chose not to look much into her behavior, figuring it could be the pregnancy causing changes in her emotions and he would soon hear the anger from this evening.