Henry was detested looking weak in front of his court and when Linacre had insisted he ride back to the castle in this rickety cart, he had almost refused. Yet the second he had stood on his own feet off the table they had laid him, his knees had given out beneath him. He knew even leaning heavily on Charles, he would never make it the long way up to the castle, let alone manage the stairs to his chambers. So he grudgingly allowed them to secure him on the cart and begin their progression.
As he rode, he sank deeper into his reflection. He had been such a fool-hoping to regain some rigor from his youth. He was not a young man anymore and he had never really lived very healthily. That combined with the empty royal nursery played into a dangerous hand for any king. He cursed himself for his folly. How dare he risk his kingdom's future on such a worthless endeavor? What if he had died? What if he had left his little princess defenseless until Anne's unborn son came of age? Hell, what if the stress of it all made Anne lose the child completely?
The thought struck him even heavier than before. Anne... He had inwardly thought to dismiss her if she had failed him again. Replace her with another who would be calmer, sweeter, and more docile. God, what a fool he was. He lowered his head into his hands, sending a prayer for forgiveness. Anne was his true wife and queen-theirs was a love that had turned his life upside down. She was not perfect, by any stretch, but how dare he even think to cast her aside. Especially large with his child! God had seen fit to punish those thoughts with this fall-to show him that he had been a fool indeed to think that some pretty noblewoman that had caught his eye could ever replace his gracious queen. Now his reckless behaviour could cost him all he hoped for. The moment they arrived at the castle he would send Linacre to inspect Anne and make sure she was taken care of. If she lost his son because of this he would never forgive himself.
His musings drifted to Jane-the source of all of this anguish. She was lovely, to be true, but didn't scripture call the devil sweet-faced? She had tempted him, pulling him away from his wife and child in a way that no mistress ever had before. When he had first seen her, angelic in white, he had been bewitched. He had brought her to him, placed her in Anne's household and had even gone so far as to place her family in prominent places at court. He had been pandering to her and her family ever since and they had all been subtly trying to ensnare him. Hadn't that rogue, Thomas Seymour been talking about Anne's faults just the other day? Calling her a harpy? Henry was ashamed at the memory of him clapping the snake on the back good-naturedly and laughing with him at the expense of his queen. They had all been painting Anne in such a poor light-only highlighting how different their Jane was. And Jane herself...the girl may have been innocent enough, but God had clearly spoken. No, he would forsake all others save his wife until she had delivered a healthy son, no matter how long it took. Anne was his lawful, true wife and he had fought to have her. She would give him a son, in time.
The cart was wheeled into the courtyard and came to a jolting halt. Charles, who rode by his side, instantly leapt to assist his king. He and a few other groomsmen were helping him to his feet when a commotion distracted them all. Henry turned just in time to see a flurry of courtiers bowing towards their frantic queen.
Anne, white-faced and panting, had rushed into the open space. Henry watched her as she scanned the crowd, panic obvious in her red-rimmed eyes. He observed her in that moment before she found him- the swelling under her eyes, the messiness of her hair. Ever since he had elevated her to queenship she had always looked impeccable. It was one of the things that even when she showed her temper or interfered in matters she had no business in had always comforted him. She always looked the part of a beautiful queen. She did not look like that now though.
No, now she looked like something else entirely. She looked like a woman who had almost lost the man she loved.
When their eyes finally met, it was as if everyone else in the courtyard disappeared. Only the two of them were left. The relief and love in her face was palpable as she moved towards him, ignoring their courtiers. He watched her come to him and shrugged off Charles' help, no matter the pain. When she finally came within reach, fresh tears falling from those lovely eyes, he reached out and crushed her to his chest. He pulled her close, savoring the sweet smell of her lush dark curls and loving the warmth that overcame him having her in his arms. It did not matter to him that his court was looking on and whispering. In this moment he didn't care about being a king. He only wanted to comfort the woman in his arms-his true queen. The queen God had chosen for him.