VIV

Fatal Crashes

It was a mixture of sensations that finally sent Henry over the edge, the not bearable friction and tightness, the feeling of sweaty skin under his hands, hands running all over his own body, their loud moans echoing in his ears and Anne huskily whispering encouraging words to him… With a loud growl, Henry's fingers dug deeply into firm flesh and a few, hard thrusts were enough to make him come harder than he thought it was possible after all their previous love play. Yet for a moment the world in front of his eyes blackened and, gasping for air, he pulled back and let himself fall backwards into the cushions. He couldn't remember when he had felt that exhausted and yet utterly satisfied for the last time but right now, he didn't want to think about it either. Gentle fingers touched his forehead, pushing back the sweaty hair.

"Some wine, sweetheart?"Anne's voice sounded clearly amused but Henry could only nod, still too worn out to even speak. She chuckled and the next moment, cool tin touched his lips but with an unwilling growl he raised his hand to grab the cup. Propping himself up, he emptied its content with one long, thirsty gulp. It made him recover quickly, at least as much as it was possible in his actual state which was drunken as hell. It was actually a wonder he was able to perform like he did, but on the other hand, with these two incredible creatures in bed who did everything to please him as thoroughly as possible…

His eyes fell first on Anne who was kneeling next to him, watching him with a smug expression on her features and he lazily let his hand run up her naked thigh, amused too see her shiver in delight at the touch. Then his gaze travelled down to Charles who was still resting and recollecting at the foot of the bed and prompted him with a movement of his head to join him.

With a satisfied sigh, Henry passed the cup back to Anne: "Pour my duke a drink, sweetheart, will you? He looks thirsty," and with that, he buried his hand deeply into the brown, sweaty curls, gently pulling Charles up who looked at him with that mischievous smirk on his lips that Henry loved so much.

"So Your Majesty is pleased?"

"We are indeed," Henry replied with a grin, pulling him in for a short kiss. Charles replied it gratefully and then thirstily reached for the cup of wine Anne held out for him, but just as he wanted to take it, she pulled it back playfully.

"But sweetheart, I think your duke isn't as pleased as you are," she said in pretended concern, looking down at Charles pointedly. And following her gaze, Henry indeed realized that his friend was still hard and obviously hadn't found release in their heated fuck some moments ago. Anne clicked her tongue disapprovingly and reached between Charles' legs, her hand closing around hard flesh, but the duke angrily growled and slapped her hand away. He tried to grab the wine instead but Anne was faster and pulled the cup away once more.

"Do you think he deserves the wine at all, not being exhausted yet?" she asked in Henry's direction and the perfect little pout on her face made the king laugh involuntarily. Normally he found the quarrel between his lovers tedious and annoying but in bed, it was actually somehow amusing.

"I think… we can take care of that," Henry smirked and wrapped his arms around Charles' waist, gently pulling him so that the duke came to sit between his legs, his back and head resting against Henry's chest and shoulders. Not able to ban a smug smile from his lips, he ran his hand down his friend's chest and stomach and deeper still, slowly beginning to stroke him. Trying to suppress a moan, Charles turned his head and Henry caught a glimpse of the desire and reluctance struggling in his eyes.

"You don't have to…"

"Shut up," Henry answered amusedly, pulling him into another kiss with his free hand while not stopping with his movements for even a moment. He knew what was bothering Charles – he didn't like Anne to see him like that, exposed for her eyes and helplessly moaning with pleasure because of what Henry was doing with him. But unfortunately for him, Henry loved it just too much and Charles owed him anyway, so he would just have to put up with it.

Anne was watching them intently and Henry could see her tongue wetting her lips seemingly distracted by the sight. When she realized Henry was looking at her, their eyes met for a moment and she smirked at him, slowly crouching over until she could place her head on his shoulder, playfully biting and then nibbling at his earlobe.

"Will you let me ride him, Henry?" she seductively whispered into his ear. "Let me deal with this for you… and I promise, you will enjoy it…"

And Henry, slightly turned on again, just nodded thoughtlessly. The wine and the exhaustion didn't allow him to think about anything else then the pleasure going on and so wasted not thought on why the hell Anne wanted to do this or what consequences might emerge from it.

She kissed him deeply in return and then crawled around and finally straddled them, getting herself down on Charles' lap before the man even knew what was happening. Anne gave him no chance to ponder on it, though, since she immediately began to move her hips in a hard, steady rhythm making Charles moan and gasp. He struggled a little against Henry who still held him tightly, loving how his friend bucked and writhed in his arms, as well as the sight of his wife who seemed to lose herself entirely into the wild rhythm, her long raven hair falling into her face and revealing only the triumphantly glittering eyes, her firm breasts rocking with every movement of her hips… If Henry only wasn't that spent and unable to get aroused again so soon, he would have buried his member once more in his lover's body, adding his own physical pleasure to the one the mere sight that Anne and Charles gave him. But so he only pushed his hand between their bodies, thrusting into him with two fingers all of a sudden and making his friend cry out at the unexpected sensation.

"Like that, Charles?" Henry whispered huskily into his ear. "To be claimed by both of us?"

But Charles didn't answer to that for he was too busy rearing up and coming with a long groan, his body shivering in Henry's arms and finally becoming limb and utterly boneless. Henry amusedly laughed in his ear and kissed his cheek, then he gently took Anne's hand, pulling her down to join them. She smiled at him smugly… and later on, he wondered if she had smiled because she hadn't known what she had just done… or on the contrary, because she had known far too well.

"She's pregnant."

The simple words, though spoken quite unemotionally, were enough to make Charles gasp, who obviously instantly got what Henry was implying. "Jesus Christ..."

"You got it", Henry said ironically trying to keep his voice low to make sure that the guards riding a little behind them would not hear him. "Well, congratulations, Charles. Your chances on indeed getting one of your offspring on the throne have just risen tremendously."

He saw shock flashing up in the grey eyes of his friend when Charles looked at him in utter disbelief. "Your Majesty, I swear to you that was never my intent and for what it's worth, I'm ultimately sorry that..."

"Yes, I know," Henry interrupted him brutally. "Of course it's not your fault, you were not the one who practically begged me for it, were you? So if you don't stop apologizing for it, I'll push you down your damn horse!"

Charles relaxed visibly, but only a little before he looked again at Henry, obviously not sure what to say. "What does she say?"

"She says she definitely knows that the child is mine and that it's a boy this time," Henry growled, "but she told me so before, didn't she?" In a sudden flash of anger, he hit against the pommel of the saddle. "Christ, this woman will be my death some day! She tries to meddle into politics and my affairs for her advantage while not having done her duty, namely giving me a son. She stalks me everywhere, always nagging me with question about other women but on the other hand she readily jumps onto my lover when she has the chance." He didn't even need to close his eyes to recall the image, Anne straddling Charles, her hips rocking against his, and the proud, triumphant glitter in her pale blue eyes... True, it had greatly aroused him that night but later on, a lot of nagging questions had crept into his head, whether Anne should have enjoyed it so much and acted with such great confidence if Henry had been indeed the only man to have claimed her so far. But the great shock she had pretended to be in had indeed vanished rather quickly, to be replaced by sheer wantonness. True, she had always been a natural in bed, never shy and clumsy like so many virgins were, but rather a seductive young goddess who had quickly discovered many ways to please him. Or at least he had always thought so. The other explanation would be that she had been no virgin at all, that she had lain with other men before she had come to his bed and there gained her expertise.

Henry quickly glanced at Charles, wondering if his friend may have had the same thoughts. However, he could hardly ask him, since he had banished him from court for actually expressing suspicions like that. Like hell he would now do the same thing again, Charles was far too cautious for that.

"You know... sometimes I wish she was different," he sighed instead. "A little more modest and humble, like other women are, who close their eyes and just accept that their husbands need their liberties from time to time. Like Katherine did… or even your wife, Charles."

„Well, my Catherine wasn't actually pleased either when she discovered about my slip with the admiral's niece," Charles replied sarcastically, but Henry shook his head.

"Of course not, no woman is when she finds out her husband is unfaithful to her. But still, she didn't start to observe you or act like a fury." God, just to think of Anne who had indeed always acted like a complete bitch whenever he left the palace or cut her never-ending arguments off made anger burn hot and furious inside his stomach.

Charles shrugged. "That's the price of bedding a hot-blooded woman, I suppose. They're amazing creatures in bed but as easy to handle as gunpowder, with a spark being enough to have them explode and turn them into screeching, ugly bitches!"

"I'll tell you what," Henry growled, "if I should ever have to take another wife, I'll look for some modest, stupid lamb who is nice to look at and busy with delivering my children most of the time. And I won't care whether she's good in conversation or in bed… after all, I have you for both," he added in a low voice, winking at Charles who gave him his favourite mischievous smirk in return. But he didn't get to answer Henry's comment, for that moment, the hounds started to bark, having caught the track of a stag. Charles and Henry both urged their horses immediately, following the pack which had indeed hunted out a magnificent stag which paced away instantly. Over rough and smooth the wild hunt went and Henry laughed in utter joy when the wind blew through his hair and the fierce pace finally made all the worries and troubles vanish from his mind. There was nothing but the thundering of the hooves on the soft ground, the rush of the wind in their ears, the excited barking of the hounds and Charles' and his own joyous laughs and shouts when they followed the pack. And when the hounds finally had hunted the stag down and cornered him and the two men took up the lances and immediately brought the proud animal down to the ground, he was convinced that nothing could ruin this perfect day that belonged just to the two of them.

"A good kill," Charles commented happily while Henry dismounted and killed the stag by cutting its throat with a hunting knife. "Do you want us to get back to the palace?"

Henry didn't have to ponder on that for a moment.

"No. Is there somewhere around here we can stay?"

The answer clearly surprised his hunting comrade, but nevertheless, he obviously had an idea. "Well, there's Wulfhall," he suggested.

"Wulfhall." The name sounded familiar to Henry, yet he had no idea who lived at that place. "Whom is that house?"

"John Seymour and his family," Charles replied and the name put a smile on Henry's face while he walked back to his horse and let his guards and grooms take care of the stag. "I remember Sir John. He was in France with us!"

Indeed Henry had nothing against seeing the man he remembered as rather warm and good-humoured again, but the most important thing was that he could delay the moment he had to get back to the palace and his complaining wife. And being far away from all curious eyes and the busy life at court, it would be quite easy to spent the night together with Charles without having to be too precautious. The thought brought a smile to Henry's lips as he remounted his horse.

"Let's go surprise him!" he called out at Charles and had already kicked his horse into a gallop. And later on he wasn't sure whether it was chance or fortune that had led him to Wulfhall the very day he had debated his problems with Charles, not knowing that the solution was so near and ready to be presented to him on a silver platter.

With a satisfying crash, the wooden lance found its aim and splintered into pieces. Charles didn't need to hear the voice of the announcer that declared he had gained another two points to know that he had won the day. The crowd cheered enthusiastically and grinning broadly, the duke opened his visor and punched the air in a gesture of triumph. His gaze found his wife who had been sitting next to Lady Rochford, but now had jumped out of her seat, clapping avidly. Catherine looked all beautiful in her red dress and the light hat with a red feather attached to it and Charles knew that she loved it when he won, especially since he had naturally jousted under her favours. He was still glad he had won them back, not the ribbon of course, but the fact that she had forgiven him his latest escapade with the French girl. Though to be true, it wasn't actually his latest escapade, but he didn't like to be reminded of that unfortunate night whose fruits might still show in Anne's growing belly... no he didn't want to think of it right now. It might not be his fault, yet he still felt incredibly uncomfortable when he saw the queen these days. Fortunately, she had obviously decided to stay away from the tournament today.

Letting his horse trot from the list to the little sand ground behind, he dismounted, his stable boys taking care of his horse. He just wanted to return to the tribune when he discovered Henry standing in front of his tent with a beautiful blonde in a lime green dress who just handed over her favours with a shy smile. Henry gently took the ribbon and pressed a kiss on it, before he attached it to his armour.

Charles involuntary smiled as he saw her curtsying and then walking away, not without turning her head to Henry once more and giving him a sweet little smile. Turning around, Henry made attempts to get to head for the list but stopped and grinned when he discovered Charles standing only a few yards away from him.

"Charles... tournament's going well so far?"

"I cannot complain," Charles smirked in reply. Henry looked rather dashing in his shining armour and seemed to be quite relaxed and self-contended instead of being stressed and angry, something which had been rare in the last months. "Was that Lady Jane Seymour who just gave you your favours?," he slightly teased him.

"Indeed, she was," Henry beamed smugly. "I guess she might be a little smitten with me already."

Charles mildly raised his eyebrows, half in amusement, half in curiosity. Henry had met the young lady at their visit at Wulfhall and the moment he had seen her, the thought has crossed his mind that this was exactly the woman they had been talking of earlier... beautiful and modest, but too young and naive that she would ever object Henry or try to control him. He had told his lover about his thoughts later, after they had lain together and he had agreed. Still, he had been a little surprised to see her among the queen's ladies-in-waiting only some weeks later, wondering if Henry indeed planned to replace Anne with her. When he had once tried to ask in that direction he had only received a shrug together with some vague words he guessed from that Henry probably also didn't know what to do yet, but Charles knew better than to press the issue.

"What is it, jealous again?," Henry meanwhile teased him back, playfully wrapping an arm around his shoulder and walking with him in direction of the list.

"Maybe, a little," Charles gave back, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "after all, I didn't get any favours from you."

"Oh, but you will," Henry said with a telling side glance that sent a familiar tingle right into Charles' loins, "just that there will be no ribbon but my hand wrapped around your lance, while I'll thrust you with mine..."

"Big promise," Charles mocked him, "well let's hope you joust successfully and are not a single bruise unable to even keep up his lance tonight, let alone thrust with it."

"If I am, I should rather use it to stuff your cheeky mouth with it," Henry growled, glaring at him but the amused smile playing around the corners of his mouth gave him away. "Well, wish me luck anyway, my darling duke."

"Good luck, Your Majesty," Charles replied gently, but still smirked a little when Henry gave him a last, playfully rough clap on the shoulder and then walked off towards his grooms who already had his horse ready for him. Charles looked after him for a few moments but then rather decided to hurry so that he would not miss Henry jousting. On his way to Catherine, he was congratulated and approvingly clapped on the shoulder many times until he could finally drop down on the seat next to his wife who beamed at him proudly.

"Well done," she whispered and Charles returned the smile gladly.

"Thanks!" He leaned over just slightly to press a kiss on her cheek when trumpets blared and called their attention back to the list.

"His Majesty, the king has entered the list and will now joust à la plaisance with Sir Henry Norris!"

With the expectant rumble of the drums and under the applause of the audience, Henry's white jousting horse with the blue caparison galloped on the list, its rider in the shining light armour punching his arm in the air various times to show his determination.

"Do you know why the queen chose not to attend tournament today?" Charles asked Catherine in a low voice while clapping approvingly at his king, who now returned to his side of the field to get prepared.

"Lady Rochford had just told me she wanted to avoid the excitements of the tournament that might harm the unborn child," Catherine replied, following his gaze to the two empty seats reserved for the royal couple. But that moment the flag fell and the king and Norris both spurred their horses, racing towards each other in a fast pace. Sand was stirred under the flying hooves, lances were aiming threateningly at the opponent's chest, both preparing for the strike... and then with a crashing sound, Norris's lance hit Henry's shield. And as if everything seemed to be slowed down all of a sudden, Charles saw the white horse staggering with the blow and falling hard against the fence that separated the lanes. The wooden beams gave way and broke under the weight of the animal and the great horse crashed down to the ground, half burying its rider under it.

A horror-stricken outcry went through the crowd and Charles came to his feet without thinking, his wide open eyes fixed on the list where the horse slowly picked itself up and trotted away but Henry still lay down on the ground unmoving.

No, don't let him be dead, please...

For a moment the shock was too fresh so that he just stood there on his feet completely motionless, not wanting to believe what he saw. But when no one dared to approach the fallen king, all courtiers just staring completely appalled at the list, he violently ripped himself out of his frozen state. Yelling "Move, move!" the started to push his way throw the crowd heedlessly, not caring about anything but Henry, his Henry, who lay lifeless on the ground. "Is he dead, is he dead?" he heard George Boleyn shouting who was a few steps ahead and just about to kneel down and reach for Henry's body. But Charles grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away roughly.

"Let other's help him, you can't!" he snapped, taking the other man's place. Together with a man he recognized as one of Henry's physicians, he reached for the lifeless body and carefully turned him around, taking off the helmet. Henry's eyes were closed and Charles numbly noticed there was blood running down the side of his still face. Carefully, the physician felt for his pulse under the armour and after a few seemingly endless moments he looked up to Charles, his face marked with utter worry.

"Take him, with all care, into the pavilion, where I may serve him better," he ordered insistently, "and pray for him!"

So Henry was still alive, but the gravely worried expression on the physicians face did less to relieve him. Was he indeed injured that bad, was he going to die every second? For a moment Charles was even afraid to touch Henry, afraid that he might die under his very hands, but then he pulled himself together. If Henry died on the dusty ground because he had been too afraid to move, he would never forgive himself.

"Seymour! Boleyn!" he shouted, spotting the two men among the nameless mass of people with shocked faces that had gathered around them. And for once, even Thomas Boleyn didn't argue with him but only mumbled "Your Grace" and wordlessly helped Charles to lift Henry carefully from the ground together with Sir John Seymour. Carrying him on their shoulders, they moved towards the pavilions next to the list just as the physician had suggested, the crowd slowly coming behind them as if they were a funeral procession and Henry's body the coffin carried to the grave already. The thought alone was enough to make Charles feel sick and it cost him a lot of strength to keep up the unmoving masque of the Duke of Suffolk who had everything under control, while he just felt like howling desperately and clinging to Henry as if he could keep him alive just by the strength of his arms.

Please, stay with me…

And though he knew Henry couldn't feel it even when he was awake, his fingers squeezed the shoulder plate just slightly, in the hint of an affectionate gesture. And it were the same thoughts he repeated then as he did later in the pavilion, kneeling closest to Henry's head for hours, watching the motionless features and praying as fervently as he hadn't done in years.

Oh God, I pray you let him come back to life… for I don't know if I can bear to lose him…

The waiting was probably the most terrifying part of all this. Hours of waiting, always waiting and praying, without the chance to do anything else. Anne could hardly count how many hours she had spent on her knees in the church, praying for Henry's life and that of the unborn child inside her and anxiously waiting for any news about his state. There had been a short moment of relief when the king had finally awoken after hours of unconsciousness, but it did not last long. For the same night, the wound at his leg had become inflamed and ulcerous and a high fever had struck Henry down again. People had been rather vague when they told her, probably not to upset her even more, but from their words she could guess that her husband's condition wasn't really well. Of course she wasn't allowed to see him, too and no one was there to keep her company except for her ladies who were as anxious and confused as she was and no big help at all. Her father and her brother were busy making preparations in case Henry should die as well as everyone else at court, whereas she could do nothing else but wait. It was almost driving her insane. And it was not only the overwhelming, nagging fear that the man she loved could die, but she was also afraid of what would become of her and Elizabeth if he died as well as anxious that her own fear and inner turmoil might harm the boy inside of her.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus…

Her fingers glided over the pearls of her rosary without thinking, as she whispered the familiar words over and over again, yet the prayer didn't give her the comfort it normally did, since the thoughts in her head were running wild. She knew why Henry lay there dying with no male heir who could inherit his kingdom and she also knew that all of their prayers wouldn't be enough to save him. For her husband had sinned so greatly against God that there could be no easy forgiveness or repentance, not as long as he and Brandon still clung to the repulsive, vile acts of sodomy they had committed so often in the past.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen…

Anne's head started to ache a little due to the strong smell of incense in the small chapel as well as the fact that she had barely slept the last days. She had just decided to finish the rosary and then leave to try and rest a little, when she heard soft steps approaching through the aisle. Turning her head, she looked directly into Brandon's exhausted, but despite the dark circles under his eyes still ridiculously handsome face, his grey eyes widening in surprise when he realized it was her kneeling before the altar.

She knew she should probably just ignore him, finish her prayer and then leave, but at his sight, something inside of her seemed to snap and the feeling of anxiety all of a sudden turned into a cold wrath. Here he was, the one responsible for her and Henry's misfortune, daring to show up in God's blessed house though he should rather have burned the moment he tried to cross the threshold.

"Leave," she ordered coldly, not bothering to ban the hatred from her voice, "there is no place for someone like you in here."

She had expected that he would follow her command, however, to her surprise he didn't. "Don't you think rather than argue we should pray for your husband's recovery, madam?" Brandon replied in a dangerous low tone, obviously having trouble to keep himself from yelling at her.

"How can I pray for his recovery," she threw at him, "when the very man that is responsible for his misfortune kneels two yards behind me!"

"Responsible?" he asked, now actually stunned. "Are you insane? How in all the world should I be…"

"For your constant sinning, Your Grace," she hissed back. "Have you ever thought about that? That your and his behaviour might have consequences one day?"

"Don't tell me about sinning, madam," he answered coldly, "for that would be the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"

The fact that he dared to refer to that unfortunate night and to equate it with years of mindless sodomy he and Henry committed made her see red. "I had barely another choice," she growled, "if I did not want to lose my husband forever due to your schemes!"

"My schemes," Brandon actually laughed out loud though there was not a spark of humour in his voice. "I can assure you, madam, my schemes are not the reason you're losing the king's love, rather it is your own whorish behaviour!"

"How dare you speak to me like that!" she yelled, closing in on him until their faces where only inches apart. The fact he didn't even flinch at her fury like he would have undoubtedly if Henry had shouted at him like that, made her even angrier. Anne raised her hand to slap him, however, he was faster and caught her wrists in an iron grip. She struggled to free herself, but it was useless since he was twice as strong as her.

"Christ, I'll swear I'll have you cropped by the neck when all this is over!"

"Of course," he replied, still with that damn dismissive expression on his face, "when you have given the king his son I suppose… granted it is a son this time, and actually the king's… and not mine."

God, how much she longed just to scratch her nails right over his smug, handsome face and leave deep red marks there. But since she couldn't hurt him with violent force, her words had to do the trick. And so she only laughed disdainfully, though still glaring at him.

"Oh, I guess you like that prospect, Your Grace... the king's toy who only became his title because he was so eager to bend over for him, fathering the heir to the throne... and in case he's not yours, there's still your own son having a claim for the throne, doesn't he? I bet you pray day and night that Henry will die, for then..."

She didn't get any further. Brandon's grip around her wrists tightened, so much it was actually painful and his eyes flashed in sheer anger.

"Take that back, bitch, or I will..."

"Let me go!" she yelled at him, more anxious than furious now, though she didn't fear for herself, only that he might harm the child inside of her. Her wrists were aching and she struggled to free herself, screaming and hissing like being possessed...

"Your Majesty..." she heard someone yelling, then there were quick footsteps and suddenly, Brandon let her go and she stumbled back, almost losing her balance and instinctively clutching her stomach. A wave of sudden anxiety overcame her, what was she thinking to get upset like that? An uncontrollable sob came out of oh her mouth, a mixture of relief, panic and enragement from the fight washing all over her and she fell down to her knees. A strong arm was supporting her waist and keeping her upright, but all Anne could think of was, oh God, please let the baby be unharmed...

"Majesty... Your Majesty..." the man continued to talk at her. She recognized him as one of the guards who were supposed to be waiting outside of the chapel, since her father had insisted on her not going unprotected everywhere these days. "Has he harmed you, madam?"

Looking up, Anne realized that the other guard now held Brandon at bay, threateningly pointing at him with his rapier. The duke did nothing to defend himself or fight back but stared at her with visible disdain when Anne slowly nodded, still sobbing.

"Your Grace," the other guard now turned to Brandon, "for the present you're arrested for attacking and trying to harm the Queen of England. We have to escort you to your chambers and have you stay there under custody until His Majesty can decide over this matter."

For a moment it seemed to Anne as if the duke was going to lunge at the man, since his whole body was still tense and his grey eyes glittered dangerously, but then something like resignation seemed to wash over his face and he surrendered.

"Of course, if you must," he replied with another long glance at Anne, who was still trembling due to the shock but also a little in triumph. Was this finally the chance for her to do something, could she give that bastard what he deserved... though, of course, Henry would free him immediately, should he win the fight against the terrible fever.

Still feeling a little numb, she felt that she was helped unto her feet and just noticed the other guard escorted Brandon out of the chapel when another thought came to her mind.

"It's him," she whispered, almost inaudible, "he can't be better as long as he lives..."

It's a chance, maybe the last one the lord will give us unworthy sinners!

"Bring me to my chambers and to the care of my ladies," she ordered weakly, "and then send for my father and my brother!"

"Of course, madam," the guard mumbled, obviously relieved to hear something different from his queen then sobbing and senseless whispers. "Are you feeling better now, madam?"

But Anne didn't respond, just nodded absent-mindedly, for all her mind was concentrated on one thought: that here and now she might finally have the chance to save her husband from death and damnation… and instead send Charles Brandon to hell forever.

Like a thorn in the side, a distortion of life
No way, can't take another day
Every storm you create, every feeling I fake
Wake up, my truth became a slut
How hard you try, no matter what you do
In the end, my dear
Your love won't never be enough for two

~ DeVision - I'm not dreaming of you ~