A/N: All for One by Blackmore's Night, for Mary, Anne and George Boleyn. By Lady Eleanor Boleyn. It's amazing, so please review!
When we drink we'll drink together, not alone!
We'll drink together
And when we drink we'll drink together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
We'll drink together
And when we drink we'll drink together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
We'll drink together
And when we drink we'll drink together, not alone!
"Thomas, you do have fine children. You must be very proud of them."
"Proud indeed. They're the hope of the future."
"That they are. Have you plans for them?"
"Of course, brother. It's high time they learnt to do their duty. I'll take George back to Court with me this summer and I've just secured the girls places at foreign Courts. Mary is to go to France and serve Queen Claude and Anne to the Archduchess."
"Archduchess Margaret?"
"The very same. I hope for her to go on to the Duchess of Alencon's household afterwards."
"You have ambitions indeed, Thomas. Anne's barely seven. Still such a girl."
"A clever, charming child. She'll do well there. No, brother. I have decided. To Brussels she shall go."
Nine year old George Boleyn didn't need to hear any more. Racing away before he got caught, he ran out into the gardens and found his sisters as they played under the ever watchful eye of their governess Simonette.
"Mary! Anne! You'll never believe what I've just heard!"
"What? George, what is it?"
"Papa's got plans for us. I'm to go to Court, and you're for France, Mary. Queen Claude's household."
Mary nodded, trying not to show that she was nervous. At ten years old, she was the eldest of the three Boleyn children and had always known that this day would come. But she was nervous. She wasn't bold and curious like Anne. Seven year old Anne, who even now, was tugging at George's sleeve, bouncing excitedly.
"What about me? George, what about me?"
George looked down at his little sister and ruffled her hair affectionately. "You're going to Austria first, Annie. Austria with the Archduchess Margaret and then maybe France to the Duchess of Alencon. Papa doesn't know yet."
Anne beamed, but Mary looked unsure. "So, we'll all be in different places? You, me, Annie?"
"Yes."
"But we're the Three Boleyns. We always have been. We swore we always would be. How are we meant to be the Three Boleyns if we're all in different places?"
"We will be. Just because we're apart doesn't mean we won't be the Three Boleyns. Look, come here."
George put his hand on Mary's arm and led her over to the stream. Throwing himself down on the bank, he beckoned imperiously for a tumbler. He filled it to the brim and then turned back to his sisters, his hand clenched on the base of the tumbler.
"Put your hand over mine, Mary. And Annie, you too. Put your hand over Mary's."
George waited until his sisters had done as he asked of them before continuing, "I, George Boleyn, vow to you, both of you, that we will always be the Three Boleyns. Do you, Mary Boleyn, also vow the same?"
A tentative smile came to Mary's lips as she nodded. "I do vow the same, George."
"And you, Anne Boleyn? Do you also vow the same?"
"I do," Anne agreed, grinning at her brother.
"In which case, Ladies, let's drink to the Three Boleyns!"
"The Three Boleyns!" Mary and Anne echoed their brother's toast and then the three of them bent their heads to the tumbler, lips nudging each other's as, half-laughing, they drank their fill and drank to themselves; drank to the Three Boleyns.
We'll sing together
And when we sing we'll sing together, not alone!
We'll sing together
And when we sing we'll sing together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
We'll sing together
And when we sing we'll sing together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
We'll sing together
And when we sing we'll sing together, not alone!
Nine years had passed since then and now they were back together again. Back together again; reunited as the Three Boleyns. Mary, nineteen and married to Sir William Carey, a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber. George, eighteen, one of His Majesty's near constant companions. Anne, a bewitching young woman of sixteen, who, in her role of the Dowager Queen of France's companion, glittered alongside her mistress at the centre of this young and golden Court.
They were the ones everyone wanted to be; the ones everyone sought out, the ones everyone envied. And they were also the ones playing for His Majesty that night, that fateful night. The night Anne first caught His Majesty's eye.
"Shall we sing the old song? The song Papa taught us as children?" George murmured. Anne nodded and Mary followed suit. "Of course, brother. It was our song, was it not? The song of the Three Boleyns."
Strumming his lute, George sensed his sisters arrange themselves on either side of him and then, just a second later, Mary's rich alto voice soared out,
"By a bank as I lay
Musing on a thing that was
Past and gone, Height-ho!"
Then she softened, falling back to sing the accompanying melody alongside George as Anne, with her pure soprano voice climbed to first meet and then surpass them as she sang,
"In the merry month of May,
Oh! Somewhat before the day
Methought I heard at the last."
As the last verse approached, George eased up on the strings of the lute and, just as he had done a thousand times before, met his sisters' eyes as he merged his voice with theirs.
"Oh, for joy my spirits were quick
To hear the bird, how merrily she could sing.
And I said, Good Lord defend
England, with thy most holy hand,
And save noble Henry, our king."
The three of them sang together, looking deep into each other's eyes, as though there was no one else in the room. And indeed, it almost felt like there wasn't. King and Court melted away and it felt like there was no one but them there. No one save the Three Boleyns.
When the last note lingered and died away and their audience burst into applause, it was a shock. They looked at one another for a moment and then joined hands to sink into bows and curtsies; reverent as always towards their King. As they paid him respect, however, George made sure to squeeze his sisters' hands and was relieved to feel them squeezing back. All the years hadn't made any difference. They were still the Three Boleyns. They were still the Three Boleyns and they always would be.
We'll fight together
And when we fight we'll fight together, not alone!
We'll fight together
And when we fight we'll fight together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
We'll fight together
And when we fight we'll fight together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
We'll fight together
And when we fight we'll fight together, not alone!
That was three years earlier, and now King Henry was doing everything within his power to make George's baby sister his wife. But he wasn't getting anywhere. It wasn't enough. Queen Katherine had decided she was going to fight the annulment, and, with the Holy Roman Emperor on her side, not even King Henry had the power to overrule her. She had just proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. She had just walked out in contempt of the legatine court at Blackfriars.
"She'll be the end of me!" Anne wept angrily. "She'll be the end of me or I'll be the end of her!"
"You'll be the end of her," Mary assured her, stroking her back tenderly. "You'll be the end of her, Anne, because you're younger, prettier and more confident. You're everything King Henry desires and everything she is not. You'll be the one to give Henry a son, not her. I'm sure of it."
"But what if she holds out? What if Henry tires of me, as she's hoping he will? As everyone's hoping he will? I'm not a fool, I know she still thinks of him as her little boy. She still thinks he'll come back to her one day."
"Then she's the fool." George, who had been watching Queen Katherine's defiant march from the courtroom, suddenly turned back to his sisters and laid his hand over Mary's, reassuring Anne with the warmth of his touch. "She's the fool. Henry isn't her little boy anymore. I think he's proved that now. He'll never go back to her. Never."
"But will he come to me? George, will he come to me, if he won't go to her?"
"We'll make sure of it. Whatever you may think, you're not in this alone, Anne. You're not just anyone. You're not a Bessie Blount, a nobody. You're Anne Boleyn. You're one of the Three Boleyns. The Three Boleyns stand together, remember. We always have. We'll stand together now. We'll stand together and we'll stand between Queen Katherine and the King. Henry will never forsake you; not as long as we Three Boleyns stand together. I promise. I promise."
Stretching out his arms, George caught both his sisters in the warmth of his embrace, whispering the words they had always said in unison as children. "Vivat Henricus Rex, Vivat Anglia et Vivat Maria, Giorgio et Anna! Vivat the Three Boleyns!"
"Vivat the Three Boleyns!" Mary chorused softly, nudging Anne slightly. Managing a watery smile, Anne nodded and drew herself up. "Aye. Vivat the Three Boleyns!"
George beamed back at her. The words had never failed to make Anne smile, not even as a little girl. Unable to say any more for fear of disturbing the court proceedings, he bowed deeply from the waist and extended his arms to his sisters. They fell into step beside him, Anne on his right, Mary on his left, and the three of them left Blackfriars as though they already ran the country.
We'll fall together
And when we fall we'll fall together, not alone!
We'll fall together
And when we fall we'll fall together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
We'll fall together
And when we fall we'll fall together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
We'll fall together
And when we fall we'll fall together, not alone!
And then it all started to go wrong. Oh, Anne promised the King a son and became Queen on the strength of that promise, all right, but then she went into childbed. Went into childbed and delivered a beautiful healthy child. A beautiful healthy…daughter. The long-awaited Prince of Wales wasn't a Prince at all. He was a Princess.
"What do we do now, George?" Mary asked, as the two of them stood by Anne's bed, watching her sleep; sleep the sleep of the mentally and physically exhausted. "What do we do now?"
"Mary Boleyn, I can't believe you're even asking that. We do exactly what we've always done. We fight. We fight until there's nothing left in us. We get Anne back into the King's bed, and we let him get her pregnant again. Pregnant with a son. Meanwhile, we make sure we act every inch the royalty we are; because if we don't believe it, no one else will."
"And if we can't get Anne back into His Majesty's bed? If he's tired of her, now that she's failed to deliver on her promise? What then?"
George shrugged, "Then we fall. Anne falls and we fall with her. Every last one of us. But we won't fall, Mary. I know we won't."
"How? How can you be so sure?"
George shrugged again and came to stand behind her, cradling the infant Princess Elizabeth's head in his hand. "We're the Three Boleyns, Mary. We've ruled this court since Anne was sixteen. That's nine years ago. Don't you think we'd have fallen by now, if we were going to fall? No, sister. We'll not fall. We can't fall. We're the Three Boleyns. We just can't fall."