A/N: First of all I wish to thank everyone who has favourited or put this story and myself as an author on alert it really does mean the world to me. Thank you especially to MonicaOP, Lady Eleanor Boleyn, wwesimmer, and Marina Ka-Fai, for taking the time to review.
So on with the Chapter I hope you all like it
Chapter 2: A Game Of Ice and Fire
January 28th 1536
The Queens bedroom was strictly forbidden to all save the midwifes, Dr Linacre and two of Anne's ladies. This was something that Dr Linacre had made very clear, Not the Queen's Father, Brother, nor even her husband were permitted entrance into Anne's bedchamber. At first Henry had been appalled; he had wanted to strangle the doctor with all his might. He was the King of England what right did this man have to tell him what he could and could not do? Then the sound of Anne's screams had echoed off the walls of the too small privy chamber and Henry had surrendered.
He could not be in that room; he could not watch as Anne lost his son, he could not hold her hand and mutter comforting lies into her ears as she failed him in everything she had once promised. He would yell, he knew that, he would yell and scream and threaten her with everything that he had if he entered that room, and if Anne had any chance, as small as it may be (Linacre had made it perfectly clear) to keep his child in her womb than she needed to be kept calm and he couldn't do that.
He was so angry with her; it was an anger that was almost all consuming. How could she allow this to happen? How could she have let her emotions control her in such a way that she would risk poisoning their child with her disgraceful actions and evil thoughts? Katherine would have never behaved in such a way, and Jane his sweet precious Jane, he knew if she was in such a position that she would never have resorted to such violent means.
Anne should have walked away, she should have shut her eyes and let it be, not reduced herself to such a state of panic that will surely result in the death of his son. If his child was lost, if Anne failed him again, he would not show her the mercy he had shown Katherine, he had given Katherine chances upon chances to deliver him his heir and she had failed every time. Anne had said…She had promised him they would be different and he had believed her, so consumed by his love for her he had believed every lie she had whispered into his ear. He would not allow her to make him the laughing stock of Europe, this was her last chance, and only God could help her if she failed him.
"Your majesty," He was so caught up in his thoughts that Henry had not even noticed the Doctors presence in the room, nor (and more importantly) the thick silence that had developed throughout the Queens apartments. Anne was no longer screaming, so this was it, the moment Henry Tudor King of England decided if he were to take a new wife.
Henry motioned for Linacre to continue speaking with a simple nod of his head, "I believe the Queen was in a state of early labour most likely brought on by stress,"
Henry ignored the small feelings of guilt that were slowly ebbing into his thoughts at the man's well placed words, he had nothing to feel guilty for, Anne had overreacted; there was nothing more to it. "And," Henry prompted when Linacre did not continue speaking.
"We did manage to stop the Queens contractions your grace, however Her Majesty has lost a great deal of blood and…"
"Does the child live or not?" Henry snapped fighting with everything he had to control his temper, he wanted answers and he wanted them now.
"The Queen has not miscarried," Linacre responded a small smile on his face; he knew more than anyone else that it was a miracle that both the Queen and her child continued to live.
Henry sighed deeply, a feeling of relief overcoming his body, his son lived, all was not lost.
"Will it continue to do so?" Thomas Boleyn's question was not expected by any in the room, especially not in the cool and reserved manner that it was directed in as if he were talking about something as simple and unimportant as court gossip and not the future of England.
"That remains uncertain," Dr Linacre responded carefully, he did not want to risk upsetting his King, but if he lied and the Queen lost her child then he would face the wrath of Henry, "As I said we managed to stop the Queens contractions; however it is very possible that the Queen will not carry to full term."
"She could deliver early?" Henry questioned that small feeling of calm leaving him very quickly.
"Yes, Your Majesty the queen could give birth possibly two months before she reaches full term, but that doesn't mean the child will not survive. If it is born healthy there is no reason as to why it wouldn't," Linacre said smoothly giving his tone as much hope as he could muster.
"Very well," Henry responded his face a mask not reviling the series of emotions that were playing through his head. All was not well, Anne may not have lost his son, but she had still failed him. She had let her hate of Jane, sweet innocent Jane, overcome her and this was the result. His boy would most likely die, and there would be no question of who was to blame.
"What of Anne… What of the Queen?" George Boleyn questioned, speaking for the first time. He was horrified that none of them had yet asked of Anne's health, her father and her husband cared more for the child, the hope of a male heir than they did for his sister.
"Her majesty is doing as well as can be expected, it is a miracle that both herself and the child continue to live," Dr Linacre answered, his gaze moving away from his king, who was refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room.
Without a word of thanks towards the man who had just saved the lives of both his unborn child and wife, Henry began to make his way out of the Queen's apartments; he had no desire to stay there a moment longer, nor did he wish in any way to lay eyes on his wife.
"Your Grace," Dr Linacre voice stopped him mid step. What could the man possibly want of him now? "While it is true that the Queen is still weak, a short visit from you I am sure would lift her spirits somewhat,"
" I can assure you Dr Linacre than nothing I wish to say to my wife will lift her spirits in anyway," Henry claimed his voice leaving no room for protests from any other in the room. Without another word Henry stormed out of the room without even a glance towards the door that was hiding the once love of his life from his view.
"Get me the Duke of Suffolk," Henry bellowed towards the nervous page boy who was standing guard outside his door. As he stormed into his room Henry once again found himself pushing away feelings that he could only think of as guilt.
He had all but convinced himself that not seeing Anne was an act of compassion, he was doing what was best for his son, if he went into that room with the rage that he was feeling towards his wife he had no doubt that he would have lashed out at her. As she justly deserved, Henry thought bitterly, Anne had brought these actions upon herself, and therefore his harsh treatment of her was nothing she could ever complain about.
Sitting down at his large wooden desk Henry picked up a piece of parchment and a quill:
Anne he begun taking a deep breath as he thought of the best way to reprimanded his wife without causing harm to his precious heir.
Anne,
I know you are most likely disappointed that I have not come to see you this night, especially considering these most troubling events that have unfolded over the last few hours.
I am glad that our son continues to live, and that you yourself remain as healthy as can be expected, but I will not apologize for today's events.
I am the King of England, and it is therefore my right to take a mistress if it pleases me, especially when my wife is with child and not in any position to fill her marital duties. Anne, it is your duty as my wife, Queen and subject to be silent and endure what I tell you, you must accept.
The Lady Jane is most dear to my heart, you found us in a simple and innocent embrace, and you have imagined evil when there was none, and your overreaction has almost killed my son, this is something I cannot forgive you for, and for this reason I shall not be visiting your rooms tonight.
Keep well,
Your Husband and Lord, Henry King of England
After reading through his letter no less than three times Henry deemed it sufficient, he sealed it, surely Anne would see the truth of his words, and when she did she would once again return to the woman he had once fallen in love with, instead of the raging bitch she had become when he had placed the crown of England upon her head.
"Your majesty summoned me," Henry ignored Charles' bow of acknowledgement with a wave of his hand motioning for his oldest and dearest friend to sit across from him.
"I suppose you have heard?" Henry questioned, after a moment of thick silence.
"Your majesty knows how quickly gossip spreads through court, you never truly know what to believe," Charles said carefully. It was true that a piece of news had spread to him, not three hours before, but the tales of the Queen's possible miscarriage differed greatly in relation to whom the news came from.
From a maid loyal to Anne he had heard that the midwifes had been mistaken about how far along the Queen's pregnancy had been and she had gone into labour and rumour had it given birth to a beautiful healthy boy. From ambassador Chapuys Charles had been told that the harlot had given birth to a stillborn and disfigured male child, a sign from God of her witchcraft. From the lips of Jane Boleyn he had heard that the Queen had, had a scare but both mother and child still clung to life.
"She all but lost my boy Charles," Henry whispered his voice detached and quiet, "Linacre say's it's a miracle that they both still live… if she had of lost him Charles…"
"But she didn't," Charles spoke, his voice only just audible, "Henry they both live,"
"For now," Henry said solemnly, "I wish for you to go to the Queen's rooms, tell them I sent you and give this letter to her and her only Charles. Do you understand?"
"Of course your majesty," Charles nodded taking the letter into his hands.
"I don't think I could stomach the sight of her tonight,"
Charles made no answer to Henry's comment knowing that it was not he who the King was speaking to. He had never felt any level of pity towards the Queen in the past, and he had made it known more than once that he quiet detested her, yet at this moment he found a level of sympathy for Anne that he had never known before. This woman was once the single most influential woman in all of England (if not Europe) and she had fallen from grace so quickly, so rapidly Charles wasn't quite sure how it had happened.
"Oh and Charles," Henry's voice said stopping him as he was just about to exist the room, "Send word to the Seymour's, I wish to see the Lady Jane,"
"Yes, Your majesty," Charles said stiffly, his smile tight.
Anne felt nothing but pain; her body… her very being was filled with it. A miracle, Dr Linacre had used those exact words to describe the fact that her heart was still beating, and more importantly that her baby, her little boy still clung to life. She was a living miracle, yet her husband had not come to see her, and if her father was right she would not be seeing her husband any time in the near future.
Their child lived, she had made it so, she had held onto him with all her might, she had all but willed him to stay in her womb, and Henry still did not have one kind word to say to her. No, her husband would much rather be in bed with a whore than comforting the woman he once gave the world to.
"Your Majesty," Nan's voice was a welcome relive from her musings, "You have a visitor,"
Anne smiled slightly, only her ladies and members of her family were allowed entrance to her rooms for at least the next two weeks. Henry had not forgotten her completely, even if he was simply visiting her for the sake of appearances, a visit was surely better than none, for if he was with her than he could not be in the embrace of his blonde whore.
To say the appearance of the Duke of Suffolk's bowing form was a disappointment would be a vast understatement. For starters he was not in any way the man she wanted to see, the Duke hated her it was no secret and she held no inclination to be forced to endure his presence when she was in such a delicate state. Secondly (and almost as importantly) she was wearing nothing but her shift, her hair was in a messy plait and she knew that she did not look the queen she always prided herself on being.
"Your grace to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Anne said cordially. Charles could hardly believe how weak and tired she looked. For him it was the first time in all his years of knowing her that he found her to appear human.
"The king sent me to give you this," He waved the letter he was carrying slightly, with her nod of approval he handed her the letter, finding that up close she looked no better off.
Anne opened the letter with trembling hands, finding herself very grateful that the Duke had decided that a particular piece of wall was suddenly extremely fascinating allowing her to read Henry's words without the nagging feeling that her every thought and expression was being watched.
She found herself re-reading the letter over and over particular points echoing in her head with brute force.
He would not apologize; he blamed her entirely for almost killing HIS son…When had her sweet dear Henry turned into this monster…. The Lady Jane is very dear to my heart, how could he say that to her of all people, how could he tell her…after she had all but died saving their child, how could he simply tell her that he loved another, as if their eleven years had meant nothing to him.
"Your grace, if you would not mind handing me a piece of parchment and a quill so as I may respond to the King," Anne said her voice as calm is it had been in weeks.
If Henry no longer cared for the passion they once had she would make him miss it. Anne would make Henry wish for the fire that had once consumed them. She would give him the Ice… the obedient lifelessness he so clearly wanted, that he desired in Jane, until he begged her to give him that heat, the passion they once shared.
To my loving lord and husband, the kindest and most noble King of England, Ireland and France,
Your majesty I must ask you to forgive me for my actions this day, I regret them most terribly and ask your forgiveness for the emotions that I could not keep in check.
With everything I have, even if I must give my life, I will keep our son alive, so as to give you the one thing that has been forsaken to you for so many years through no fault of your own,
Your loving servant,
Anne Boleyn, Queen of England
"Jane," Henry said, caressing her beautiful pale face.
It was a face so different to Anne's; blonde and fair with eyes blue and dull, she was a perfect English rose, not Like Anne, Anne who was so un English, Anne who was dark as Jane was light, Anne whose eyes sucked you in with just a mere look. Jane was everything Anne was not, and he knew that one day (with God's help) that she would give him a whole room of perfect sons.
"Yes, Henry," She said her voice soft and sweet. He shuddered at the use of his name from those Angles lips; he could not believe how lucky he was to have found her…His sweet pure maiden.
"Originally I called for you this night to ask for your maiden head…but I know now that I mustn't do that," Henry never looked away from her as he spoke. He wanted to see her face as he offered her the world, "If Anne fails me…if she does not give me a son or she dies in childbirth I wish to make you my Queen, Jane I wish to be your in every way known to man, to serve you as faithfully as forcefully as I serve God and England,"
"Your majesty, you think to highly of me,"
"Never, Jane you are the light of my world," Henry could not help but smile brightly at the happiness that crossed her faced in response to his words, "and when the time comes I wish to let the whole world know of it,"
Jane did nothing other than lean into Henry's lips kissing him softly knowing that for the time being that was how she must be with him…a sweet innocent maiden, that was how Henry must always think of her, of this her Father and brothers had made perfectly clear.
She did not feel an ounce of guilt over what she was doing, Anne Boleyn was nothing more than a concubine, a Whore wearing Queen Katherine's crown, her pain left Jane with no guilt for wishing for her failure and occasionally even her death. No, Jane did not feel any guilt, what she felt instead was worry… worry over what Henry was not saying, his promises were based on either Anne's failure or her death, the King had not even mentioned what would occur to her if Anne gave birth to a healthy son and lived. If that happened, if Anne did not fail, Jane would become nothing, perhaps his mistress and if she were extremely lucky Henry may decide to make her his official mistress.
Jane may not have been fluent in foreign languages, or able to read and write extremely well, but she was not stupid, Henry would keep her for a few months a year at best and after that she would lose everything. But God would not allow that to happen, Jane knew he would not…She was meant to be Queen her child would be king not the bastard children of Anne Boleyn.
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