Disclaimer: I don't own Loki, Thor, or any other Marvel properties mentioned. This work is entirely fiction, so there will be many departures from established history. Note: Many actresses have portrayed Anne Boleyn, but in my opinion, Genevieve Bujold in the 1969 film Anne of the Thousand Days captured her the best. And she looks perfect with Tom Hiddleston's Loki. Sources used will be listed at the end of each chapter.
Sources used: The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn, by Eric Ives, and The Six Wives of Henry VIII, by Alison Weir.
Rewrite the Stars, or, The Queenmaker Chapter One
May, 1536.
Asgard.
For the second night in a row, Loki Odinson was jolted from his sleep by a dream that felt too real. A dream of arrest, of despair, of fear, of concern for loved ones, and finally, peace and acceptance, just as he was led out to his execution by swordsman on a lush green lawn.
Tonight, he didn't try to sleep; instead, he called for some wine to be brought to him, and with a wave of his hand, lit the brazier in the fireplace so that it would warm the chill not only in the room, but his bones.
Once the wine was brought, and once he was alone again, he wrapped his robe about himself, settling more deeply into his chair. The wine had been heated and spiced to his liking, and as he sipped it, he couldn't help but be reminded of where and when he had first tasted the combination. If he closed his eyes long enough, he could hear the music and laughter of the French court, and see a pair of dark eyes that glittered with both merriment and adoration of him. Not only had it been the eyes, but a pair of lips that had gone with them, lips that had tasted of cloves, cinnamon, and nutmeg when he had dared to claim them. There had been passionate embraces, hurried and frantic, whispered declarations of love, and promises made.
Wait for me, Nan. I only ask that you wait for me, and I will make you my wife.
He buried his head into his hand, trying to will away the heaviness that overcame his heart whenever he thought of it. He had tried to be honorable, to get his father's blessing before he asked for her hand. It had never been done before, an Asgardian prince and a Midgardian maiden, even if she was of some minor rank in her own country. He had been absolutely terrified of asking his father for this one boon, for the one thing that would mean so much to him and bring him so much happiness. Odin had sighed, shaking his head and closing his eyes for a few moments, as though the weight of the world had been on his shoulders.
"You know that I cannot grant that, my son. Ask me for anything else, and I will gladly grant you that favor. But a marriage with a Midgardian mortal… it is simply out of the question."
Out of the question. Loki gritted his teeth, shifting in his seat again. He had gone to her again, but it was too late. He had been gone too long, and she had been summoned back to England by her own father, to take her place in the queen's household. And she had attracted the wandering eye of the king. After that, her fate was sealed.
When he had begged her to hear him out that last time, she had told him as much. Do not come to me again.
He hadn't gone to her again, but it hadn't meant that he still didn't seek news of her, or look in on her every now and again. He had spies in the English court, and he had even set foot in it under the guise of a mortal, all just to see that her husband was treating her well and that she was happy.
The husband, the king, was a well-built man, as far as mortals went, he supposed, handsome, with blue eyes and a fine ginger beard. He reminded Loki of his brother, Thor, somewhat; a sort of sturdy, hail-fellow-well-met kind of man, rather confident in his skills in not only the fight, but more courtly skills such as music and dancing. But unlike Thor, who carried an air of benevolence about him, there was a ruthlessness to this king, a love of power and how much of it he could wield. He was the king, God's anointed one on earth, and he could do as he pleased.
The last time Loki had peered into his mind, the king had seemed distracted, not by the thoughts of his wife, but by thoughts of another woman. A meek, soft-spoken little country mouse, a woman who would obey him as he thought a wife should.
It was like looking into the mind of a child who had wanted a toy so badly, but who grown disenchanted with it as soon as he had received it, until he finally had grown bored of it and wished to discard it for the next shiny, new thing that caught his eye. And the toy that he had once loved so much, the toy that had lost its shine, remained where it had been discarded, waiting for its master to come play with it again.
Loki scowled as he took another sip of wine, then reached into the folds of his robe to pull out the gold pendant that rested against his heart. The dwarves had fashioned it, as they had fashioned its mate, which hung from the neck of the woman Loki had once hoped to marry. His own pendant, cool in his hand, was a plain gold affair on the surface, but once he touched the catch, it sprung open to reveal a treasure inside: a miniature of a pretty young woman with skin that reminded Loki of snowdrops and dark hair and dark eyes that contrasted against it brilliantly. She bore a slight smile on her face, and around her delicate neck, that lovely neck he had kissed many a time in the heat of love, was a necklace of gold and pearl, with a large gold B as the pendant. The necklace he had given her after she had lost its likeness in the garden of the French court.
As long as you wear this, I will always be near to you, Nan, no matter how far away I might really be.
"Nan," he murmured, his voice a slight croak. The pendant shimmered a bit with a golden light, and he cleared his throat. "Show me Anne Boleyn," he said more forcefully.
Now the pendant itself glowed both silver and gold, and opposite the miniature, Loki could see the vision of a city, and in the middle of that city a fortress. Within the fortress there was a room, where she, Anne, was crumpled on the floor, sobbing at some turns, laughing at others. Sometimes she would pace the length of the room, wringing her hands and chewing on her lips, mumbling under her breath. He caught a few names: George, Smeaton, Norris, Brereton… Elizabeth, whatever will become of you?
His heart stopped.
Anne.
He reached out to touch her, only to feel metal warmed by magic against his fingers. "Anne," he murmured.
Anne. Was Anne to die?
He sprang up from his chair, raking a hand through his dark hair.
"Out of the question," he muttered. "Marrying a mortal is out of the question… and it has sent her to her death!" He picked up the empty glass and threw it across the room, where it landed in a dark corner with a clatter.
He stalked toward the door of his chamber, wrenching it open, then into the corridor toward his mother's chambers. Frigga, queen of the Asgardians, was wont to keep odd hours when she couldn't sleep, passing the time at her loom. He hoped against hope that she was up, so that he might seek her counsel. He knocked on her door, and she bid him to enter.
When he wandered into the room, he saw that she was seated at her loom, humming to herself as she worked the shuttle between the threads. When she saw him, she stopped, setting aside the shuttle and rising.
"Loki," she said, her face lined with concern, "what troubles you?"
He held up the pendant to show his mother the vision of Anne awaiting her doom. "You can see what troubles me," he said evenly. "The woman I have loved for so long, whom I wished to marry once…" His voice trembled, and he stopped short.
Frigga took the pendant into her hands, staring down at the vision of the terrified woman. "Anne Boleyn?"
"Anne Tudor now, queen consort of England," he spat out, his green eyes narrowing. "If you remember, I came to Father asking him to grant me this one request: to allow me to take Anne Boleyn to wife. He denied it. Even though he knew that it would be a love match, he denied it…"
"Because she was mortal, Loki," his mother said softly, brushing her fingers through his hair, as she did when he was a child. "It isn't seemly for a son of Asgard to marry a Midgardian…"
"Even though the Olympians have coupled with mortals from Midgard many a time," Loki reminded her.
"And your father would say that we aren't Olympians," his mother replied.
"And you? What do you say?" Loki said.
Frigga sighed, averting her eyes from his as she returned to her loom. She picked up a corner of the finished project, her brow creasing in thought.
"She has a child, do you know that?" Loki said. "She has a little girl she called Elizabeth. Can you imagine what would happen to that child were she to die? If we brought her and her child to Asgard, can you imagine how happy they would be? I wouldn't rest until Anne's every whim was satisfied…"
His mother stared down at her project again, then looked up at him. "Loki," she said. "Come here and see…"
He went to his mother's side, and looked at the point of the finished tapestry she had indicated. His breath caught at the sight.
"Is this set in stone?" he asked her. "Can this be changed?"
She lifted her eyes to meet his, shaking her head. "I don't know," she said. "The destinies of mortals are never set in stone, Loki. But we mustn't intercede…"
"And if I want to intercede?" he demanded. "What then, Mother? Am I to stand idly by as the woman I love is put to death for crimes she didn't commit, as her child is abandoned to live like a little gutter rat? You know that I can't allow that…"
She eyed him warily. "And what will you do, then, to prevent all of this?" she asked him.
He lifted his face so that he might address her. "I will do whatever it takes to rescue both Anne and her child, and bring them to Asgard, where they will be safe and happy. I will make sure that they are kept safe and happy." He inclined his head. "You will help me, won't you, Mother?"
She sighed. "Oh, my dear boy," she whispered, "I know how much you loved her then, and how much you love her still. I will do all I can to help you in this endeavor."
He smiled. "Thank you, Mother," he said, lifting her hand and kissing it. "I bid you good night."
His mother smiled wanly. "Good night, Loki," she replied.
Once he had returned to his room, he produced the pendant, again summoning up the vision of Anne. Now she was sleeping, fitfully, and he could see the tracks of dried tears on her face.
Were you here with me, my darling, he thought to himself, you would not feel sorrow. You would be loved more deeply than you could ever imagine…
He reached out to stroke her hair, but only felt the odd shock of magic. "Sleep, dear heart," he murmured, as though she could hear him. "Be brave when you awaken tomorrow, for there is hope. For both you and your daughter."
He closed the pendant, pressing his lips to it, as though he was kissing her good night. As he fell asleep, he closed his fingers around it.
Soon, my love, he thought as sleep came over him. Soon, you will be here with me, and we will never be parted again…