A/N: Once again, the best reviews. You guys are all awesome!
1 October 1511
Anne gloried in feeling cold.
Every breath of cool air that reached her was a little pleasure – it spoke to her. "I'm coming!" it seemed to say. "I'm winter, and I'll be here soon!" She could almost imagine that the first frost was on its way, or the first snowfall.
She thought that everything would be alright once it was winter. Once her baby was born her position would be very secure – and her husband would love her. Once winter came her friends would come with it, and she would get to have the companionship that she craved.
"Your Highness, do let me close that window," Ruth Lyons offered oh-so-sweetly. "If someone doesn't, then Your Highness will surely catch a chill."
"No, thank you, Mistress Ruth," she coldly refused. The nerve of that insolent girl was unbearable! Who did she think she was, offering to take away Anne's little joy as though she were doing her some great favor?
"Leave it, Mistress Ruth," she heard Mary Bowen say, and thought more fondly of the loyal girl for it. "If her Highness wishes to freeze to death, that is her business. I don't see why you offered – clearly she likes it."
She heard the Lyons girl make a snappy retort.
"Don't mind her," Lady Pole hissed reproachfully, but comfortingly. "You ought to be above that. If she wants to make the situation harder on both of you, then she shall. It's up to you to take it with grace."
"I've never had much talent for taking anything with grace," Anne reminded the well-meaning lady. "I have a particularly hard time with those who don't know their place."
"But you must bear it," Lady Pole reminded her.
"I haven't any idea what I would do without you," Anne sighed. "I'd likely storm up into a fit that would make the world laugh at me… and result in an annulment as well, most likely."
"Then it's good that I'm here," Lady Pole laughed. "I'll admit I'm very fond of you, Princess. I shall hate to lose you when the King dies, and you go with your husband to London as Queen."
"You shall come with me, of course," Anne promised. "You may not be one of my official ladies-in-waiting, but I am still fond of you. And my husband very much likes you and yours. I doubt he would hesitate to ennoble your husband – or even grant you your brother's titles of Earl of Warwick and Salisbury."
"Now that would be too much to ask for," Lady Pole said graciously. "I am grateful enough that you want me to come with you, Princess."
2 October 1511
"A letter has come for you, Princess," Madge Shelton announced. "It's from your own lady mother."
"Oh, wonderful!" Anne cried in delight. She missed her mother so much – the ache opened again, thought it closed a bit at the thought of a letter – word from Mother!
Her eyes brimmed with tears as she read the heart-felt words. Her mother missed her, too, she could tell, but this was written before the letter that she'd sent not a month ago. She bid her daughter to fall soon with child, for her own good, and to write, for the mother missed her daughter so.
"I love your brothers dearly," that good woman wrote. "But a daughter is the child a woman can confide in, as we learned many a time. I wish you would write frequently, darling, for your companionship leaves a hole in my heart. Your brothers send their love, and bid you write soon. All the love in the world, Mother."
After reading those heartfelt words, Anne wept for hours.
"Poor darling, she'll never see her mother again," Mary Bowen wept to her cousin Madge Shelton. "Imagine that! Oh, I think it would be perfectly horrid not to have Mother."
"Yes," Madge agreed. "And worse still, no friends in the world to comfort her. I do feel for that poor Princess, and for once in my life I'm certainly glad that I'm not royal."
"It wouldn't be worth it," Nan Saville agreed. "Poor Princess Margaret – Queen Margaret of Scotland now – must feel the same way, but at least King Henry and Lady Beaufort sent some companions for her. I don't see why the Prince must be so cruel and not allow the Princess any small comforts."
"He despises her, though for what reason I can't say," Mary Bowen shook her head sadly. "Perhaps things will change between them when the Princess gives birth to a son."
6 October 1511
"I am sorry about her," Henry told his wife of his grandmother, one of the few people who he liked less than Anne.
"She's alright," Anne shook her head, feeling sorry for Lady Beaufort. "She just has her goals, and is determined to be seen as a strong woman in order to accomplish them."
"She's nice to you," Charles Brandon told her with envy. "She's never that nice, not to anyone. How do you do it? What have you done to her?"
"I'm not sure," Anne laughed, delighted with the compliments. "With any luck, she'll love this baby, too, and won't take him away from me. I think I should just die if that happened."
"She won't," Henry informed her rather coldly. "She'll allow any children to stay here until my father dies. If they're still young when I become King, then they'll be sent off to have their own households, but if not then they'll travel with us to court."
"I do hope they come, and if they don't that their households aren't far from wherever we are," Anne sighed wistfully. "I absolutely hated being apart from my mother – and she tells me she worried constantly about every little threat. Not that there are any threats to our children's safety… but you do know what I mean."
"I suppose so," Henry grumbled. It didn't make a difference to him where children were raised – they wouldn't see much of them wherever it was.
12 October 1511
"I do love it while the Princess is abed," Ruth laughed. "With no Princess in court, I'm almost always singled out as the first lady of the court. I imagine no one would dare if the tsarevna was about."
"You've the most influence with the Prince, and he's the King of this little court," Ursula Sinclair reminded her. "You're almost like a maitresse en titre in the royal court… and sometimes, they've more power than Queens themselves!"
"If I'm still the Prince's mistress when he becomes King, I imagine my status will rise significantly," Ruth agreed. "Foreign ambassadors will make sure to gain my approval, perhaps even above the Princess's. My family could be the most important one at court."
"Yes, it would," others agreed, already eager to placate the girl who held so much potential.
"Not to mention if I gave the King a child," Ruth continued, and there were immediately whispers of speculation. "If I gave the King a child, he would honor me and the child above all else. It would be simply splendid."
"And he'd give you a dowry to marry," Ursula added. "You'd be one of the richest girls ever, and certainly the most heavily dowered knight's daughter in all of England!"
"Yes, the marriage will be advantageous, too," Ruth agreed, "though perhaps not so much as the affair itself. Some Kings have been known to value their mistresses over their wives. Officially, of course, the Queens take preference, but in court events it's the mistresses who have the most influence. I intend to be such a mistress."
13 October 1511
"I'm so bored," Anne moaned. She was as good as alone at this moment. Her favorites rarely had time off, as she greedily wanted them with her, so she had sent Lady Margaret Pole, Mary Bowen, Madge Shelton, Margaret Wyatt, Bridget Wingfield, and Nan Saville off to have time to themselves. But now she was with the ladies of whom she was not so fond, and Henry and his friends showed no sign of visiting today.
"Perhaps your Highness would like to read," one lady, Susanna Harvey, offered.
"What are you reading, Mistress Susanna?" Anne asked her.
"Oh," the girl blushed. "Nothing important, Madam. It's The 95 Thesis by a man named Martin Luther, protesting the sale of indulgences. It's … it's heretical, Madam, and I ought not to be reading it." Susanna Harvey blushed, looking away from her reading.
"May I see it?" Anne asked, politely. She was glad Lady Margaret Pole was away. The woman was a strict Catholic, and would never condone such reading. "You forget that I was raised Russian Orthodox, not Catholic, even if I did convert."
Timidly, Susanna Harvey showed Anne The 95 Thesis.
They're very heretical, Madam," she explained. "The King and the Prince of Wales would be mad to know you had them. They're as bad as some of Luther's other works, which are forbidden, as are William Tyndale's works… Tyndale translated the Bible into English, which is certainly illegal and heretical."
"These are fascinating," Anne said, looking at the strong and undeniable arguments. "Some of the points this man makes are certainly true. Mistress Susanna, if you can bring me more of this so-called heretical work, as well as that by the man Tyndale, I would be grateful. But please do so as discreetly as possible."
"Of course, Madam," the servant agreed. This entire exchange was spoken in whispers, and none of the other ladies heard.
Just then, the door opened and Mistress Ruth Lyons entered.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, Your Highness," she giggled madly. "You see, I was so busy with a certain someone, that I completely lost track of time and didn't realize that I ought to be in here attending you." She giggled some more, making it perfectly clear who that "certain someone" was.
Anne took a deep breath to steady herself. This girl was pushing her limits – but she had to keep her cool. Her mother had always told her that her temper would be the death of her one day.
"You are forgiven, Mistress Ruth," she said. "Take care the offense is not repeated. Punctuality is a very desirable trait in a young lady."
"Of course, Your Highness," Ruth curtsied and set about her work, giggling inwardly to herself.
"Mistress Susanna, you are free to go. Take care to do as I asked you to." Susanna curtsied and left, leaving Anne with The 95 Thesis.
20 October 1511
"Well, it's about time!" King Henry VII announced to his son, Prince Arthur, Duke of York. "Your sister Margaret has written to me that she is with child again. Considering the others – James, Arthur, and a daughter – are all dead, we'd best hope that she has a son this time. Her husband James IV will want an heir."
"Of course, Father," Arthur replied. "It would be wonderful if both Anne and Margaret had sons for the countries. The future rulers would be cousins, and blood ties are strong enough that perhaps they would be allies for life. Speaking of allies, Father, when will my bride be coming?"
"In due time, Arthur," the King blew him off. "You know she cannot come until your brother has a male heir, which will likely happen in December. She should be sent for around February – we can't have her coming in January, it's the coldest time of the year."
"Of course, Father," Arthur nodded. "But what if it takes Anne and Henry years to have a son? What if they have only daughters and stillborn children and miscarriages?"
"They won't," the King snapped. "They're young and fertile and they will have a son. And you will wait until they do before you marry Katherine of Aragon!"