Chapter Nine

Visit to Whitehall, Part 1

A/N: So, this is an interesting one. This is an original story set in this universe, and it's going to be split into two parts, even though this one is kind of a shortie, but this is the introduction chapter. All the drama will come in the next one…If there is any. Also, there are no songs in this one, and for those of you who wanted to see more Henry, well, here he is. Have fun. And as always, everyone's looks are in the folder linked on my profile should you get curious.

"Why do I need a new dress to see Prince Henry?" Anne whined as Elizabeth moved about, hemming said dress.

"Don't be like that. I know you love when I make you new clothes," Elizabeth retorted, giving a satisfied smile as she shook out the finished hem. "There, what do you think?"

Anne sighed and turned towards the mirror, unable to stop the smile that came with seeing her reflection. The dress was her mother's design and made by her own hand, something that had become a loved rarity since their becoming royal. The under layer of the skirt and bodice incorporated the kingdom trend of black as an adornment, and was printed with a golden pattern and covered with royal purple over-layers. Across her chest and the off-the-shoulder sleeves was black lace that matched the layer at the end of her bell sleeves and the line of black adorning the overskirt.

"I knew you'd love it."

"But why do we have to get dressed up to go to Whitehall? I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Because we were invited for the summer solstice celebration and you will be presented to the royal family properly. I do not care to hear about your squabbles with their youngest son, they're not important in this," Elizabeth said as she gathered her sewing tools.

"But, Mama…"

"Anne," Elizabeth warned. "I will hear no more of your whining. You're far too old for it, anyhow."

"What if I…Uh…Didn't feel well?"

"That's not going to work. Now, I have to go to my own fitting. I'll see you at supper, Sweetheart."

"Alright," Anne shrugged as her mother left, sighing as soon as she was gone before making her way over to the bed and setting her crown next to her with an aggravated huff.

"Why the face?" Wyatt asked as he entered.

"I did not give you permission to enter," Anne replied.

"I apologise," He said, quickly backing up to the door and then knocking, getting a decent laugh in response.

"Come in."

"Now will you answer my question?"

"I don't want to go to Whitehall. And not just because of Henry."

Wyatt simply raised an eyebrow as he approached, pushing her crown to the side and taking its place. "Are you alright?"

Anne shook her head. "I'm from Whitehall, Wyatt. I was thrown out by my father when I was but thirteen."

"And?"

"He's one of King Henry's ambassadors and I know he will be at court. He always was for the summer celebrations. What is he going to say…No…" She stopped herself as she stood. "What is he going to do when he finds me?! He hates me! He's hated me since I was born! There's no way he'll take well to my new status."

Wyatt simply shook his head with a laugh.

"You think this is funny?" Anne snapped, shooting him a nasty glare.

"I think your worrying is funny," Wyatt admitted. "Princess, even if he is there, he can't touch you. There are rules. You're royalty now, which makes you untouchable. If he even so much as thinks an unkind thought about you, he risks losing his head. You'll be fine. Besides, what chance is there of him finding you in such a large court?"

"Perhaps you're right, Wyatt," Anne said, quickly reclaiming her spot and then sighing as she laid back, arms outstretched. "Ow," She snapped, scowling at her crown after her arm had landed on it.

"Your crown seems to pose a worse threat then your father," Wyatt joked, getting a glare in response that he took as he cue to leave, having forgotten his purpose for being in the room in the first place.

The following morning, Anne's scowl returned as she stared out the coach window listening to her family happily anticipating the occasion. Like herself, they had all had special garments commissioned. Elizabeth had traded in her light colours for a dress of dark, royal-blue and black, with the bodice and underskirt being blue and covered by a black overlay printed with a leafy pattern in yet another shade of dark blue, the fabric matching that of her ruffled sleeves, that were adorned with just a touch of light-blue on the ends that matched the ruffle hanging off of her skirt's overlay, the whole look being tied together with her usual, sapphire and gold crown and a matching necklace. Next to her, her stepfather wore a doublet that matched her mother's gown, and, to Anne's left, Charles was put in a red and black ensemble just slightly dressier than normal, having refused the outfit designed to match with his sister's dress. Keeping her colour scheme, Catalina had gone with red and black, but reversed the order, having her underskirt, bodice and under sleeves red and her outer skirt, trumpet sleeves and over layer being black and printed with dark, crimson flowers linked by golden stems and leaves. The skirt, bodice, and tops of the sleeves were trimmed with pearls that matched her necklace.

"Papa! She's doing it again!" Catalina groaned.

"Doing what?" Anne snapped.

"Glaring at nothing. Why can't you be happy? It's an honour to be invited to the Summer Celebration, and it's your first. You could show some excitement…And maybe straighten your tiara…" Catalina said as she reached for it, only to have her hand slapped away.

"Don't touch me."

"Anne, what has gotten into you?" Ferdinand asked, knowing that this was far more than her usual boldness.

"She's been in a mood since you announced this trip," Charles said.

"And the long coach ride isn't helping, is it?" Elizabeth asked, waiting as Anne shook her head in response. She hated long rides, especially cramped ones, and would have been better riding her horse, but, unfortunately, Ferdinand had said that it wasn't possible and that they had to take the flying coach. "In fact…You look kind of ill…Can we stop for a minute?" Elizabeth said, turning to Ferdinand who nodded and gave the order to the coachman, who quickly found a landing spot in a nearby field.

'Thank God,' Anne thought as she stepped out, grateful to have some fresh air after being stuck in such a small space.

"Why'd we stop?" Alice asked as she stepped out of the servant's coach a few feet away.

"It's Anne's fault," Charles said, ignoring the eye roll he got in response.

"Are you alright, Mistress?" Joan asked as she approached.

"I am now. 'Twas nothing, just a bout of claustrophobia," Anne shrugged as she settled under a nearby tree. "Long carriage rides and I do not often get a long, especially when there are five of us in one. Once, when I was younger…About seven, I would say… we took a long trip and my father refused to stop, wanting to beat the rain."

"And?"

"And, he learned his lesson when I vomited on my sister's new gown. It had been commissioned just for the occasion and cost him a great deal of money. She had a fit and he screamed at me and my mother, but afterwards, he never tried to make nonstop trips again," Anne explained, leaning her back and closing her eyes.

"Sweetheart?" Elizabeth said as she approached.

"Hm?"

"Eat this. It should help."

Anne looked up and took the red apple her mother offered. "Thank you," She said as she looked it over before eating it.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asked, taking a seat next to her daughter as her maids dispersed. "Charles was right when he said you've been in a mood."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"You're not me."

"No, but I am your mother and I know when you're lying. You're worried about your father, aren't you?"

"How did you know?"

"Because I thought about it too. But, then I realised I was being ridiculous. There's no way he can ever hurt you again, Sweetheart. I promise. Not only do you have me looking out for you, but there's Ferdinand and our staff. Besides, I would hope that he knows a bit better, lest he loose his head."

"Wyatt said the same thing."

"You told him something before you told your mother?!" Elizabeth gasped.

"I thought you would be angry with me if I did tell you. It is a bit of a sore subject for both of us. But, I will tell you something I've never told anyone else," Anne admitted.

"And what would that be?"

"Sometimes…I think about George and Mary, but mainly George. He was so young when we left. I occasionally wonder what he's up to, how he does in school and if he remembers me at all. I've written letters to him…I don't send them, of course, but…the make me feel a bit better."

"Oh, Sweetheart," Elizabeth sighed, letting her head rest on top of her daughter's, which was leaning against her shoulder. "I do too. And, sometimes, I feel guilty for not being able to do more. It hurts to be so far away from him with no connection at all. But, I like to think he does well. He is a Boleyn, after all."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"Putting your father aside, it is. Though he wouldn't admit it, he had plenty of decent women in his family and so did I. All of you children are half Boleyn half Howard, which is a rather interesting combination if you ask me. Take, well…You for example. You have his hair and eye colouring, but not the pompous attitude, though you do have a decent temper and a lot of sass. But, on the other hand, you're quite resourceful and very well-learned, in fact, sometimes I think you're too smart for your own good. And, I know you can be nice when you want to be. After all, you are Mama's Sweetheart."

"Mama," Anne sighed.

"You are, and it could be worse. You could be a Trastamara," Elizabeth teased, as in the distance Catalina screamed before running past them.

"Oh, come on Catalina! He wants to be your friend!" Charles teased as he followed, frog in his hands.

"Well, I don't want to be his," Catalina snapped back.

Both Anne and Elizabeth raised eyebrows before dissolving into laughter moments before Ferdinand ordered them back to the carriage, pulling Charles aside before takeoff to lecture him on proper protocol and not acting like a five-year-old while his sister pouted and Anne giggled.

"At least you're in a better mood," Ferdinand said, taking a seat next to Anne, as, she had stolen his.

"We talked," Elizabeth explained.

"And I found a frog," Charles declared.
"Que sabemos," Catalina rolled her eyes.

Anne also rolled her eyes at the silliness of it, before settling against her mother for the remainder of the trip, the plain forest soon giving way to elegant brickwork, true, English architecture and lush, lavish gardens as Whitehall palace came into view and they joined the line of coaches being unloaded around the main fountain.

"Welcome," A steward greeted them. "The King and Queen apologise for not greeting you right away, they are overseeing last minute preparations. However, a formal greeting shall be held in the throne room in an hour."

"That's quite alright," Ferdinand replied as he helped Cromwell unload one of the neatly engraved trunks.

Surprised by his kindness, the Steward let out a breath of relief, as, he hadn't had such luck with some of the other royals. "Catherine will assist your maids with the ladies while Edward helps you gentleman," The man explained, gesturing to the two servants beside him.

"Great. Thank you for your kindness," Ferdinand said. "We shall be take it from here."

"Of course, Your Majesty," The Steward bowed and then left them alone, Catherine leading the women and their maids away and Edward doing the same for the men, everyone staying close as they wandered the halls.

"And this shall be your bedchamber," Catherine said to Anne awhile later as she looked at her map. "You are a Princess of Ingletara, right?"

"Yes," Anne nodded.

"Oh, well, I knew that. Your ladies will reside in the smaller one adjacent to yours, and if you need anything…"

"I have a bell?" Anne guessed.

"Precisely," Catherine smiled and then led Elizabeth on her way.

"I'll come retrieve you in an hour," She whispered as she passed.

Anne nodded and turned to her maids and Wyatt, who had been following diligently with another steward who was assisting with her trunk, and motioned for them to follow her, everyone gasping when they saw the room. Though it was smaller, it was richly adorned, with violet and golden tapestries on the rich, oak paneling along with vibrant artwork. Violet drapes adorned the windows and matched the covers on the canopy bed by the fireplace and the rich, wool rug next to it. A desk and chair sat in a corner of the room in a place where the sunlight would hit it just right when the drapes were opened fully.

"I think someone knew you were staying here," Joan teased.

"It's a royal guest chamber, it's supposed to look like this," Anne said, motioning for Wyatt and the steward to place her trunk at the foot of her bed.

"But it's all violet…That is your colour, is it not?"

"Yes, but it's also a known, royal colour," Anne explained as she went to investigate the book of the desk, raising an eyebrow at the letter tied to it printed with her name.

I do hope you enjoy the adornments. The arrangement was quite troublesome, not unlike you. Though, in mine eyes, a troublesome woman is not an issue, but a challenge waiting to be tamed…How I cannot wait until we meet again, so the game can begin.

"It's not signed…" Anne muttered. 'But I know bloody well who sent it. Who does he think he is, anyway? Like I would fall for this nonsense,' She sighed as she crumpled the parchment and moved to throw it in the fireplace. "We should take a walk," She declared afterwards.

"I would think not," Margaret scolded. "You must be prepared to be presented to the King and Queen of this land, and right now you are not looking close to ready."

Anne turned to look at herself in the vanity mirror and sighed, knowing she was right. The time she had spent asleep in the carriage left her hair a mess, and she knew her gown would need to be straightened and her traveling cloak removed. "Very well then," She agreed. "Fix me."

At that, Wyatt and the other man left the room and the women to their work as they straightened their mistress. Unpinning and repining her hair, setting her crown, and dusting, adjusting and smoothing out her gown, finishing shortly before Elizabeth arrived to lead her to her own bedchamber to meet the family before they all walked on together, as always, standing in order of rank, with the King and Queen in front, followed by Charles, and then Catalina with Anne ending the line as they entered the main hall, which was filled with courtiers, royals and noise as everyone waited for their audiences, which were announced by the heralds, who, after what seemed like forever to Anne, soon called them in.

"The royal family of Ingletara," Another announced as they entered the throne room to find all six Tudors looking back at them. In the middle was King Henry, the only one of them to have a hair colour that wasn't red, as, it had darkened with age. He dressed simply with little adornments, in plain, brown breeches and a black doublet covered by a long gown with a strip of purple that matched the colour of Queen Elisabeth of York's dress. The under layers were the same colour purple, but the over layers and her trumpet sleeves were printed with a leafy pattern in a lighter colour that was a mix of purple and pink, her light, red-blonde hair partially pulled back and topped with a golden crown with magenta-coloured jewels that matched those on her necklace. On the King's right sat his oldest son, Arthur, who was just as simply adorned in black and blue with a shorter gown, and on his right was the youngest child, Mary, who, like her brother, had light-red hair, which was pulled into a bun with a small part of it hanging down and over her shoulder the look being adorned with a silver and sapphire crown that matched her necklace. She was dressed in teal, with both layers of the gown being the same colour and the outer layer being printed with dark, navy flowers attached with teal stems and leaves that blended in with the dress. The top of the bodice was adorned with a velvet piece with pearls sewn in that matched the coverings of her unusual, short sleeves.

On the opposite site of the Queen sat Prince Henry, the second youngest with dark-red hair, who was as simply adorned as his father and brother and none too happy about it, as, he liked more elaborate clothing. However, his father would hear none of it, so he sat in a brown doublet printed with a black pattern and covered with a black jerkin that matched the boots covering the tan breeches. On his left was the oldest of the Tudor children, Margaret, who shared her youngest brother's dark hair colour and had hers pulled up and secured in ringlets at the back with a simple, pearl diadem and red rose for accessories. Her dress was red and gold, with the under layer being red and printed with the same flower pattern on her sister's dress, only with the flowers being red and the stems, gold. The overlayers and her trumpet sleeves were the same shade of gold, and the top of her bodice was adorned with pearls that matched those on the red, velvet coverings at her shoulders.

"King Henry," Ferdinand greeted as he and his family gave their proper bows and curtsies.

"You may stand," King Henry said. "It is a pleasure to see you again Ferdinand. It has been awhile."

"Yes, Your Majesty. I am sure that you remember my children, Catalina and Charles. However, I do not believe you have met my wife."

"Ah, yes. I do apologise for missing the wedding, but my own wife was ill. I am sure you understand."

"Of course. May I present my wife, Queen Elizabeth of Ingletara," Ferdinand said, Elizabeth taking it as her cue to step forward.

"It is an honour, You Majesty," She said.

"Rumour has it that you were a decent seamstress before you married my friend here," King Henry said.

"That is true, Your Majesty."

"Good. Perhaps you could be of assistance to my royal seamstresses. Their quality is lacking lately and I trust you can fix it, but only if you wish."

"I would be honoured. May I speak freely?"

"You may."

"I do believe we have forgotten someone in this presentation."

Ferdinand nodded. "Yes, we have."

"Your Majesties, may I present my daughter, Princess Anne of Ingletara."

'Why?' Anne thought as she stepped forward, displeased with being put on display. "Your Majesties," She greeted.

"I did hear there was another daughter in your family," Queen Elisabeth said, speaking for the first time. "Step forward, Dear."

Anne did as she was told, easily catching Henry's glare, but ignoring it as she presented herself and turning around when the Queen motioned for it. "Well, aren't you a beauty?" She complimented.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Since I know neither of you, we will have a private audience later and talk further," Elisabeth said to Elizabeth and Anne.

"Of course, Your Majesty," They said at the same time before being dismissed.

"I can't believe she called you a beauty and not me," Catalina said as soon as they were out of their parents' sight.

"She's met you before, Catalina. She already knows you're beautiful," Anne replied.

"I would still be nice to hear it," Catalina retorted with a flit of her fan as her sister simply rolled her eyes before going on her way for awhile before being called, along with her mother, as promised, to the Queen's private chambers.

"Your Majesty," They greeted upon entering.

"Please stand. And, do call me Elisabeth while we're here, those formalities are such a bore."

"Then you may call us simply by our names," Elizabeth replied.

Elisabeth nodded just as Prince Henry entered the room. "I hope you don't mind, but my son has asked to join us."

"Not at all. Good afternoon, Your Highness."

"Your Majesty," Henry greeted politely. "Anne."

"Henry," Anne scoffed.

"Anne, Sweetheart, be nice," Elizabeth warned.

"You too, Henry," His mother warned as he snickered.

"Sweetheart?" He mocked.

"Yes. Is there a problem?" Anne asked.

"Only if you count his face," Elisabeth said as she stood and made her way over to her son, quickly licking her thumb and moving to wipe off whatever it was he had recently eaten.

"Mother," Henry said disgustedly while Anne laughed and her own mother raised an eyebrow.

"Your hair ribbon is crooked," She observed, quickly moving to fix it.

"Mama," Anne whined as her mother quickly fixed her. She and Henry then exchanged a sideways glance before turning away from each other with crossed arms as their mothers rolled their eyes.

"Please, sit," Elisabeth encouraged, breaking the tension as a servant appeared with a tea tray. "First, I must say, I adore your gowns."

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied, nodding to the servant who handed her a teacup. "They're my own design. I actually made Anne's myself, but Ferdinand refused to let me touch my own."

"Did you? I guess the rumours are true then, you are quite the seamstress."

"As is my daughter. She made her own gown for the school masquerade a few months back."

"Everyone had to make their own costumes," Anne pointed out.

"Yes, but, from what you told me, the quality and detail on everyone else's weren't quite up to standards, which is why you won the contest."

"I still question that decision," Henry said. "Mine was far more appealing."

"Yours was boring," Anne retorted, picking up a pastry. "Especially because half the boys in the room were dressed as knights, simply because they couldn't sew."

"And you, Dear?" Elisabeth asked.

"Hm?"
"What was yours?"

"Oh, I was a dead queen who got her head cut off," Anne replied nonchalantly, ignoring the slight confusion and shock on the Queen's face.

"I told you she was peculiar," Henry whispered to his mother.

"Yes. But you also said she wasn't pretty to look at," Elisabeth retorted.

"In other words, he says a lot of things," Anne said, taking another sip of tea as Henry narrowed his eyes.

At that, both the women laughed and the conversation went on until Anne, Elizabeth and Henry were dismissed as a few of the ambassadors dropped in, Anne wandering about for awhile before settling on finding the stables with some help from a steward.

'Whitehall is known for its purebred horses,' She thought as she looked them all over under the watchful eyes of the stable boy, soon turning her attention to a pure, black one in the last stall. "Well aren't you…Pretty?" She said upon reading the name inscribed on the stall. "Marymarie?" She said, raising an eyebrow.

"You can't blame her for her name," A voice said as someone new stepped in. "Mary was only seven when she named her."

"Prince Arthur," Anne said, curtsying as he bowed.

"Princess…" He stopped, thinking for a moment. "You don't look like a Marie, or an Olivia…Margaery, perhaps?"

"Not even close," Anne laughed. "Want to try again?"

"Julia? Jane? Mabel?"

Anne made a face at the last one before laughing again. "It's Anne. Princess Anne of Ingletara."

"Ah, right. You'll have to excuse me. I'm quite horrible with names sometimes, especially when I've only seen a person once."

"It's quite alright. I am too," Anne confessed. "For my first major ball after my debut, I had all the ambassador's names written on my arm. I used a paintbrush though, so it wouldn't hurt me. But, Mama was far from amused when I came to her that night with a black arm. Apparently ink is harder to remove then I thought."

"Not if you use the right formula," Arthur said. "I have one that works wonders. Unfortunately it only works on skin, not clothing."

"I would not stand too close to her!" Henry said as he entered. "You may catch her peculiar-ness."

"That's not a word," Anne informed him.

"She's not horrible, Henry," Arthur said, thinking, 'And I know you don't think so either. I found those love letters in your desk and I see the way you looked at her when she wasn't looking at the formal introductions. 'Tis a shame she seems to find you revolting…At least, that's what Margaret says.'

"In fact, I was about to ask if she could join us on our ride," He continued.

"I would love to," Anne replied. "You will have to give me some time to change, however."

"It's quite alright. We're not properly dressed either," Arthur shrugged. "We will meet back here in about twenty minutes. Is that enough time for you, Princess?"

Anne nodded. "Thank you," She said before heading off.

"I can't believe you invited her," Henry hissed as he as soon as he and Arthur found their way to his brother's bedchamber, where their riding clothes were already laid out. "She will slow us down."

"Do not try that on me. I've been to your races. I know she's on the derby team with you and is an exceptional rider and racer. Why must you down her when you love her so?"

At that, Henry stopped and whipped around, giving his brother a rather nasty glare. "How do you know about that?"

"I am your brother, Henry. I've been down this road before…And I found some things while looking for extra parchment in your bedchamber."

"She's beautiful, Arthur," He admitted. "I have girls all over me at school, in fact, I have most all of them but her and I wonder why. She's fascinating. She ignores me and most of my friends, and shows an interest in Volarè of all people when he's half the man I am. Shy, reserved and always digging in the dirt."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"He likes vegetable gardens," Henry explained. "And, she's always reading something…It's to a point where I wonder if she's too smart for her own good, though I do not have to wonder about her attitude. Professor Moore calls her a 'Problem Child' which his way of saying, 'Walking Entity of Sass,' which is code for 'Anne Boleyn.' Fiery, feisty, beautiful, Anne. She's not like the other girls, Arthur. She doesn't want jewels or expensive gifts. She doesn't even want recognition. It's…Well, as I said…Fascinating. I want to know her, I have to know her. I want to know how to please her, and, at the same time, what makes her tick. I want her, but she will have none of it."

"And you pick on her to save face, because you cannot let anyone, especially her, know you're interested. It would be humiliating and you'd likely be ridiculed for even thinking good of such a woman when your friends would rather have girls…Like…Well, like Catalina Trastamara."

"Do not get me wrong. I appreciate Catalina's company as much as the next princess', but Anne is something else. There's no word for her, she's her own category. Anne. Anne Boleyn."

"Boleyn?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I do believe I said it once before as well."

"Henry, Thomas Boleyn is our ambassador to Aquitaine," Arthur explained.

"And?"

"Boleyn is not a common name. Do you think…?"

Henry thought for a moment. "It could be possible. She has never spoken of her father…her real father, not King Ferdinand. And, I once found myself wondering why two women were living alone seamstressing," Henry admitted as he adjusted his hat.

"I spoke with Boleyn earlier with Father," Arthur said. "And looking at her, they have the same eyes, possibly the same colouring entirely, though his hair has lost its colour. You can see Her Majesty in her, but more in the face and body than colouring."

"We should ask, then."

"I would not. If she does not speak of him, like you say, then it is probably not a good topic."

"True. She could be a bastard. And, wouldn't that be the news of the court? King Ferdinand married a whore."

"If she was a bastard she wouldn't be a Boleyn," Arthur pointed out. "But, let us not concern ourselves with it. You know how court is at this time. If we simply keep our ears open, the truth will come to us, especially with the main festival in two days. Now, let us go, we cannot keep the Princess waiting."

A bit later, Henry, Arthur and Anne found themselves following a trail in the woods, per the King's orders, as he had warned them not to stray too far so close to supper.

'He treats us like kids…' Henry thought with a huff, being startled when Anne raced past him.

"You're getting slow," She taunted.

"Excuse me?" Henry snapped, quickly cracking his horse's reins.

"Be careful!" Arthur called. "You know the rule."

"Any other day we get to ride as far as we wish," Henry retorted as his brother caught up.

"Yes, but today is an important court supper," Arthur reminded him. "There will be plenty more time over the remainder of the week for you to ride with your love."

"You are not going to drop it, are you?"

"Not for awhile," Arthur admitted, calling for Anne once he realised she was missing.

"Here," Anne called back, waiting while they caught up and then glanced down at what she was glaring at.

"We'll have to go down the other trail," Arthur declared as he looked over the ditch in the path, which was not typically a problem. But, two recent storms had turned it into something of a bog and it was filled to the brim with water and mud, blocking their path.

Henry scoffed. "You go down the other path," He said as he dismounted, quickly finding a rather long, heavy-looking branch on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Anne asked.

"I'm going to vault the stupid ditch," Henry declared as he checked his distance and then backed up a ways, checking again before running forward and pressing the branch into the ground, confident in his abilities. However, the branch, having been weakened by water, wasn't meant to hold his weight and snapped under him halfway through the jump and he hit the water hard as Anne laughed, soon stopping when she caught his brother's worried glance at Henry's struggle.

They exchanged a look and quickly dismounted, forgetting about their clothes as they waded into the water and mud and helped him up and out.

"We need to go back, now," Arthur said, authority in his voice. "Can you ride?" He asked Henry.

Henry nodded. He was sore and humiliated, but not entirely down and was able to mount his horse again before they slowly went back down the path to the stables where, as luck would have it, both his and Anne's mother were with the stable boy discussing plans for the upcoming tourney. Seeing them, they tried to be discreet, but were quickly caught.

"Henry!" Elisabeth said once she caught site of him, quickly rushing over. "Are you alright, Sweetums? What happened?!" She asked as she looked him over and Anne laughed.

"Sweetums?" She mocked as she laughed hard, hands clutching her sides. "Do tell me you're joking!"

Henry glowered first at his mother and then Anne as Elisabeth looked him and his brother over. "You didn't answer my question," She insisted, glancing at her two mud-caked princes and the one, similar princess.

"Henry tried to vault the ditch," Arthur explained. "And we had to help him out."

"Henry," His mother warned. "What have I told you about being reckless? You could have gotten seriously hurt. But, I will have to lecture you later. It's nearly suppertime and you need a bath," She said, quickly grabbing his hand as she practically dragged him away and Anne and Arthur exchanged a glance, smiling when they realised no one was forcing them to bathe. However, their luck was short-lived as Elisabeth called, "Arthur! You too!"

"And do not think you are free either, Sweetheart," Elizabeth said, stepping up for the first time. "Look at you. You're filthy! Come with me." She grabbed her daughter's hand and led her off and to her bedchamber, where she quickly rallied the servants and forced Anne into a bubble bath as her maids carried her riding outfit away.

"He's a Mama's boy," Anne laughed, thinking out loud as her mother poured a bucket of water over her head, getting a shriek in response. "That's freezing!"

"I know," Elizabeth said. "That's for laughing at the Prince and making a fool of yourself."

"But you heard her, Mama. He taunts me for loving my mother and he's being called 'Sweetums' behind closed doors."

"And, that's a problem, Sweetheart?"

"Don't twist this," Anne snapped, taking the cloth her mother offered.

"I am just saying. Is it truly right to poke fun at him, when you yourself are truly Mama's girl?"

Anne said nothing as she turned away and soon dropped the cloth, letting it fall to the bottom of the tub in favour of picking up a handful of bubbles and blowing them about, giggling when one popped in front of her face, not catching her mother's sigh and head shake.

A bit later, she found herself in front of the fireplace as her mother fought with her hair, wincing as she pulled at it.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," Elizabeth said. "You know how your hair is after it's been washed."

Anne simply scowled at the fire and put her head to her knees, letting out a startled yelp when her mother pulled her back up via her hair.

"Let that be your warning. Sit up straight until I'm done."

Anne sighed, but did as she was told, letting out a sigh of relief when her mother finally finished and then called her maids, who had been waiting outside the door, in to prepare her for supper, which they did as quickly as they could while keeping up their usually quality, lest their mistress be late. However, due to their quickness, she made it on time and soon found herself standing in front of the main entrance with her family as a herald announced them.

"King Ferdinand II with his wife, Queen Elizabeth, Prince Charles, Princess Catalina and Princess Anne of Ingletara," He announced as they entered and ascended the stairwell amongst the courtiers' watching eyes as one in particular dropped his glass upon glancing up.

'There's no fucking way…' Thomas Boleyn thought as he watched the family make their way to their table. He had heard Ferdinand had married a commoner, he had even heard her name was Elizabeth, but he had never once suspected she would be his estranged wife. At first, he doubted it, but after a quick glance at her, and a few more at Anne, it clicked, as, there was only one girl he knew with such colouring and eyes that matched his own in so many ways. 'How is this possible? I spend all my time vying to stay in the King's good graces, and only have a few titles to show for it. Yet, I send them off, disgraced, labeled as whores, and they manage to rise far above me? A disobedient woman and her equally ornery brat…But, perhaps I am being too negative…There could lie opportunity in this. She is my wife after all…albeit, estranged. But, I know she can be reasonable. I treated her well enough that she could do me a favour, perhaps throw a title or two my way? Along with jewels…Maybe money…Though I may have better luck getting those from her useless girl…After all, I remember the way she used to look at me. Practically cower in my presence…And fear is a powerful motivator…'