The silvery wisps of the early morning light shone from the small slivers of space left in-between the closely gathered labyrinth of tents, that had been rather hastily erected by the Palace servants in the early hours just before dawn. Anne had not attended a Jousting event since she was a child and as such was rather surprised by just how vividly and intensely alive the entire environment was. All her senses were overwhelmed, all she could hear was the pounding of new horse shoes being fitted, the slicing of air as several knights confidently swung their swords in practice and the loud bets, jeers and playful brags of the men as they tossed back the odd flagon of ale or wine, while others remained inside their tents with their young, eager squires fitting and strapping them into their newly polished armour.
The colours were even more overwhelming to her, the dozens of multicoloured tents and the finely embroidered standards were everywhere the eye could see and as were the beautiful liveries worn proudly by the squires and valets as they dashed to and from different tents with their heads held high, carrying helms, swords and even the occasion tray of figs and cheese, kicking up the dry spring dirt into the early morning air.
The entire field felt charged with life, vigour and enthusiasm, and perhaps had she slept better or even at all the night before, she very well might have felt it begin to infect her somewhat too. Unfortunately, she felt as though she was barely even present, she appeared to herself as though she were an old, forgotten ghost that had stumbled quite accidently out into the living world by mistake. She slowly wandered along the worn path that weaved around and in-between the brightly patterned tents, trying her best to not drag her feet. She had decided to forgo her walking stick for the day, having had enough of the bloody thing, so she supposed her Ladies in Waiting would probably just assume that she was merely struggling without it. After all the Royal Physician had insisted that she continue on with the stick for a little while longer, especially when outside upon uneven ground. But the dark cloud that had hung over her head ever since her brother George had visited her Chambers the previous evening, made her care very little as to much of what anyone thought about anything she did and the ever so slight ache in her ankle was oddly soothing in the sense that it gave her something else to fix her mind upon.
She knew she was nearing the Royal Stands as the worn, dirt path was beginning to widen and the noise had started to grow dramatically with just about every step she made, she could feel her shoulders begin to tighten as the depraved voices of the Courtiers rose to match the various other sounds of the Tourney. Anne's eyes lifted from staring unseeingly towards the Stands just up ahead to glimpse back at her Ladies briefly, she had allowed all of them to join her at the sporting event, it seemed to please and even damn right excite some of them. It was Lady Holland's second time ever at a Joust and the girl seemed to be utterly relishing in her delight, Anne gave them a pleasant pull up of her lips in an attempt to not ruin the day for them, especially for the youngest of the girls to whom Court life was still sensational and breathtaking in its splendour.
However it was as she turned back to face the back of the Stands that she saw him and felt suddenly as though she had been sucker punched in the stomach. She paused mid step at the sight of Charles Brandon exiting from the open flaps of a large, yellow and black striped tent, nearly fully suited up in his impressively designed armour, with his two squires fumbling about two and a half steps behind him. The younger of the two seemed no older than twelve years old and was concentrating with the kind of single-minded determined only a child could muster as he balanced both the Duke's shining helm under one scrawny arm and a exquisitely made and sheathed sword in the grasp of his other, the boy looked both incredibly stressed and entirely pleased with himself, despite the few beads of sweat that had gathered above his upper lip. The other Squire was indeed both older and more sure of himself, he had gorgeous auburn hair and long legs that made him the perfect height to be tying a small leather strap under the shoulder plate of the Duke's armour, he seemed to be biting back a grin as he quickly muttered something that made Charles throw his head back and laugh. The deep timbre of his laughter carried through the space around them, but the warmth of it only served to send a chill through her.
Almost immediately however, Charles caught sight of her stood several feet away from him and both his laughter and the grin on his face faded entirely. The two Squires frowned at the sudden change in the mood of their Master and they followed his gaze to observe whatever or whomever had caused the swift loss of his humour. Charles seemed utterly frozen at the very sight of her, she had known she looked bad after her sleepless night, but had she harboured any delusions about just how rough she looked, they would have been shattered by the look on his face as he took in her appearance.
Anne felt her upper lip curl in rage as she glared over at him, just being in his presence made her feel sick to her stomach. Seeing his face caused a massive on slaughter of all the misery she had wallowed in the night before, she felt stupid, so very, very stupid because she had allowed herself to trust him, despite her gut constantly warning her not to. She had still somehow been a big enough fool to let herself be completely open, bare and vulnerable in front of him, not just once but multiple times. The man was one of her oldest and most enduring enemies, and she had let her guard down in front of him, God how pathetic he must have thought her in those moments. In truth Anne didn't think she had ever been more humiliated in her entire life, because the worst and cruellest part was that she had wanted to trust him, she had wanted to believe some part of him had cared, she was disappointed of all things! She knew she was a complete fool in every way possible.
She had been unable to sleep at all the previous night, all she had been capable of doing was tossing and turning while she sobbed until the sun had began to gently peak in from the heavy drapes. Of course it hadn't just been Charles Brandon that had caused the deep, gaping pit inside her chest to continuously draw endless rivers of tears to spill down her burning cheeks and stain her white pillows. Her brother's venomous words and hateful accusations had certainly played a large part in her misery too. She knew she was now more alone at Court than ever before, George didn't seem to want to forgive her and she knew with certainty that her father most definitely wouldn't, in fact Anne was quite convinced that her father probably hated her for what had happened to him and that broke her heart in no small way, he was her father after all, she loved him. But she was ashamed to admit that a very large part of her was greatly relieved that he was gone from Court, she felt an enormous amount of guilt that she actually felt a little physically safer now he was gone, and while she loved George endlessly, the man their father had been slowly turning him into scared her at times, she really didn't know how he would behave towards her now that their father was banished.
As for Mary, Anne was filled with shame whenever her thoughts turned to her older sister, she had sent her money on two occasions to help her and her solider husband but she had never managed to summon up enough nerve to write to her. She found she wished more than ever that her playful, kind and understanding sister were with her at Court. Anne's failure to secure her family's future and her failure to protect them had eaten away at her heart, just as much Charles Brandon's betrayal had. To be honest she wasn't sure if she could even truly call it betrayal, after all he had always been honest about whose side he was on.
Though if Anne had thought she hated Charles before, it was nothing when compared to how she felt as she stared at him in that moment. He had broken something that had grown and developed between them, she didn't know or even vaguely understand what exactly it had been, she didn't have a word or name for it, all she knew was that it was delicate, fragile and important to her and he had broken it with his actions and in doing so had broken something within her in the process and she hated him for it. This new hatred was different though, somehow it burnt with a frightening ferocity that hurt, something deep inside her soul burnt painfully from it. Anne could feel tears gathering in her eyes and so in a determined attempt to avoid any further humiliation, she side stepped both Charles and the two young boys stood beside him, before he could say a word and it had certainly looked as though he had wanted to say something, though he did appear very aware of the fact they were surrounded by people and so he said nothing more than a muttered "Your Majesty." While he and his Squires bowed as best they could.
But she paid them little mind as she hurried her pace in order to pass them as quickly as was possible, the dry earth flung up and coated the hem of her dark green, velvet gown, as well as the lighter coloured hems of her Ladies in Waiting as they fluttered behind her, trying to keep up with her new pace. Anne chose to ignore the rather strange looks that several of her Ladies levelled at her. Fortunately it didn't take much more wandering along the pathway to finally arrive at the Tournament Lists, she delicately dabbed at her wet eyelashes with the side of her forefinger, her cheeks burnt with embarrassment though it seemed she was saved from any one of her Ladies noticing as all of them were taking in the spectacular surroundings of the Royal Tiltyard, small mercies she supposed.
It appeared as though most of the Court's noble spectators had already arrived and were busily making their way to their seats upon the wooden Stands, many of them seemed to be placing themselves and their families by their political allies, while others stood around and chatted idly with foreign Ambassadors. As her eyes skimmed over the many faces within the Stands, she finally caught sight of the King, sat at the very centre of the audience and placed slightly above them upon a magnificently and skilfully crafted Throne, a smaller but no less beautiful Throne was left empty beside him, the Queen's Throne, her Throne. Her husband was dressed utterly majestically and impressively, he looked the very picture of regality and masculinity in all but his sulking face, the expression in all honesty looked as though it would be more belonging on some spoiled, bratty four year old, than on a King of England.
Anne took a deep breath in order to ready herself mentally for what was most likely going to be a truly horrid ordeal, that would steal her day away from her, she hoped that the Tourney was only to be a single day event, however the sheer amount of tents that had been erected and the huge gathering of different noble Standards gave her cause to fear otherwise. The last Tourney the Court had held, the one that had nearly killed the King, had been set to go on for three full days, of course the King's fall had put a definite stop to that.
"Come Ladies, let us not stand and stare, we must make the most of this fair weather while it lasts and enjoy the day." She muttered softly to the group, nearly all of them looked wide eyed with excitement and she felt a pin prick of guilt for not ever really allowing them to leave her to go watch previous Jousts, but she had never really thought much about it as none of them had ever asked.
She gave the girls a small smile and nodded her head in the direction of the wooden stairs that led up the back of the Stands. Her eyes ran briefly over each of their glee filled faces as they began to make their way up the narrow staircase, only two of her Ladies were not beaming, Nan, which was no real surprise at all, her friend and most loyal of her Ladies had been shooting her worried looks all morning. However, it was the look upon Lady Jane Seymour's face that was rather puzzling and put her ill at ease. Anne found it rather difficult to read the Seymour girl, which she found surprising in of itself, though that morning she could make out that something was clearly bothering the girl and it appeared to be keeping her mind occupied as the girl had not seemed in any way to rejoice in the sorry state of Anne's appearance nor her misery.
Anne knew that she was going to have to be more careful around Mistress Seymour, the girl seemed to see and understand far more than she let on and she hadn't forgotten the way Jane had given her a chance to speak privately to Charles, and the way the girl had practically dismissed Katherine Brandon and Jane Parker for her. She was just going to have to be very careful around the girl.
As was fast becoming their new custom these days, Henry barely seemed to notice when Anne took her place beside him upon the elegantly crafted throne, of which she was pleased to see had been furnished with one very plump, burgundy coloured cushion, edged with pleated, gold fringe. She had hoped that Henry had been the one to have the cushion placed there for her comfort, though she rather doubted it because if he did care for her comfort at all, he never would have forced her to attend the Joust, knowing her history with the sport. It was most likely a servant but she was very grateful all the same for the small comfort, it seemed as though she would be better off than nearly all the rest of the spectators of whom were instead expected to spend all day watching the Tourney on hard, long benches, with only the occasional Lady of the Court and a handful of old Priests that had possessed enough forethought to have brought their own cushions.
Once Anne had sat down and settled the wide skirts of her dress out as neatly as possibly, she then clasped her cold hands together in the middle of her lap, to look at least somewhat at ease and not as though she wanted the ground to suddenly swallow her up. With nothing left to do she left her eyes flicker over to her husband, talking in his side profile, handsome even in spite of his obvious sulking.
"Good morning, Your Majesty." She said quietly, hoping for the first time ever that her presence wouldn't stir any reaction in him.
She was genuinely relieved when all he did was grunt back at in greeting, without even looking over at her. Which was fine with her for a good couple of reasons, the first being simply put, she was furious at him for forcing her to attend an event that he knew would be stressful and upsetting for her. For nearly a decade ago she had shared with him the deeply horrific and vivid memories she had of the way her father's friend and her favourite adult at the time Sir Roger Bartmoor had died during a Joust. She had blinked back tears as she Henry just how violent the whole scene had been and how it had given her nightmares for months afterwards, and now her loving husband was forcing her by Royal order to sit and observe that same sport.
The other reason she did not crave his attention had far more to do with her own vanity and misery. She wasn't sure she had actually slept at all the night before, not even for a short while had her sobbing ceased, so she was very aware of just how terrible she looked, she had even seen it in Charles' expression when he had seen her. There were dark, purple bags underneath her eyes, said eyes that were normally a pretty clear, blue were now puffy and bloodshot, making it very plain to anyone who saw her, that she had been crying and her snowy skin had taken on a grey twinge.
Even she had been mildly horrified when she had looked into the mirror on her dressing table earlier that morning. Nan had been quick to offer up solutions though, some white paste for under her eyes, a little rouge on her cheeks and lips and a lovely, warm toned dress to brighten her complexion up. But as Anne had stared at the fragile, broken women in the mirror, she found herself saying no in a tone that allowed for no arguments. Instead she had washed her tear stained face with cold water and had Madge brush her raven locks and style her long hair half up and half down using an emerald ribbon to tie it in the back. The gown she had chosen was a beautiful, form-fitting but heavily skirted dress in a dark green velvet, it was stunning even if it was also slightly sombre and served to make her skin look an even ghostlier white. The final touch and the only jewellery that she had chosen to wear except for her wedding ring, was the second necklace Henry had ever given her. It had been so long since she had worn it, she certainly hadn't worn it even once since becoming Queen, her father had told her it wasn't grand enough to be worn by the Queen of England and she had been sorry for it, it had always been one of her favourite gifts her husband had ever given her.
She had stared at herself once more just before she left her Chambers, by God she had looked like ghost, her own ghost though, the ghost of the woman she had once been and it pleased her in that moment. Let Henry and Charles and George all see, let them see what they have done to me. The vengeful thought had given her a sick delight, however it hadn't taken many shocked looks from Courtiers and Servants alike for that spite and motivation to dry up and leave her feeling embarrassed by her appearance. Her pride couldn't seem to recover from her allowing the whole Court including her enemies Cromwell and the Seymours to see her looking so beaten, to let her enemies see that they were winning, and now sat next to her husband, she didn't want him to see her looking so destroyed.
All Anne wanted in that moment was to be ignored by him, for the first time in years she wasn't concerned with thoughts of fixing their tattered marriage, she didn't want to recapture his attention and affection. In that moment all she wanted was his silence, she wanted to burrow herself safely inside his contempt and wished to be left alone to stew in her own misery, while Henry stewed in his.
All her Ladies in Waiting had taken their places upon the benches closest to her, they giggled amongst themselves, twirling their pretty favours around their fingers as they waited for the Tournament to begin. The Ladies had been allowed to sit in whichever order suited them best, with just two exceptions, Nan had been placed beside Anne's wooden Throne as close as the Stands allowed, as her moral support for what was to come. The second exception was that Lady Jane Seymour was to be seated directly in the King's eye line. Anne had decided upon it the night before just before George had arrived at her Chambers. She had decided that making efforts to keep the girl from the King's sights was both entirely unsubtle and completely ineffective, because after all if the King wanted to see Jane, he simply would do so, just as he had once done with her when Katherine was Queen. So it had seemed to her last night that it might serve her better if she could show the King that she wasn't hiding the Seymour girl away, that she wasn't as threatened as she truly was, as she unfortunately had already shown herself to be ever since Lady Jane had first been brought to Court. It may very well help to pretend she lacks any insecurity in regards to the King's wandering eye, it was perhaps a little late in the game to try that play but she had to try something new and Henry hated jealously in his women. Though Anne wasn't sure just how Henry would respond, he in recent weeks had become distressingly peculiar in regards to his attitude and behaviour towards her. That morning in the Stands however, Anne found she wanted Lady Jane placed in the King's eye line more because she actually hoped the girl would capture her husband's attention for the day, to keep his gaze away from herself as she hoped to disappear inside for much if not all of the event.
Anne jumped at the sound of the obnoxiously loud trumpets that had been played to announce the beginning of the tournament. Henry raised a brow lazily as he turned to face her only to immediately sit up from his slouch, his eyes suddenly alert and fixed upon her with singular focus, his plump lips parted in surprise "Anne-" He started in a confused tone only to stop short at the quiet and despondent look she sent his way, she blamed it entirely upon her own exhaustion but as she turned her gaze back to the Lists, she could have sworn he looked as though he had just been stung with a sharp dose of guilt.
The starting ceremony went by in a quick but droll blink of an eye, Anne barely paid any attention to what played out in front of her, but she like any well trained young Lady made sure to keep her back straight and a small, false but appropriately pleasant smile on her tired face as the spectacle carried on. She could feel her husband's eyes turn to peer at her every now and again but she didn't once glance back. It was only when the Tournament Herald announced that His Grace, Charles Brandon and his opponent Sir Henry Norris had both entered the Lists, that any life slipped back into her, she had been unable to stop herself from observing the Duke as he rode his war horse confidently alongside the Stands towards where his wife was sat, to ask her for the honour of wearing her favour. A bitter prickle of something horrid dripped down into her stomach at the sight and she inhaled deeply to keep from rolling her eyes at the display the Duchess' friends made, all of them cooing and awing as Katherine stood to tie a sky blue ribbon around her husband's lance, that he had carefully and skilfully lowered for her. Once the performance of Chivalry had been completed by both men, with Sir Henry collecting his token of favour from Lady Shelton, they both rode to meet in front of the centre of the Stands in order for them to pay their respects to both the King and Herself. Anne copied her husband and nodded in approval at the men as they lowered their heads in what served as bows when on a horse, but in order to avoid accidently meeting the Duke's eyes she instead she stared down at the truly beautiful destrier he was sat upon and waited until he and Norris rode off in opposite directions, to make their way to their starting positions.
After several moments of their Grooms and Squires readying them, the flag was raised and away they went, thundering down the Tiltyard towards each other, lowering their brightly painted lances as they grew closer, Katherine and Madge's favours flapping around at the sheer speed. The noise that was made as they met was absolutely horrendous and the sickening cracking of the lances made her flinch and forcefully grasp the armrests of her Throne, tightening her grip until her knuckles went numb. Her lungs seemed to suddenly find the air heavier and harder to breathe in, it sat like sunken weights within her ribcage.
Charles beat Norris with a quite respectful score of points, no one seemed to be all that surprised, it was no secret that Charles was a rather excellent Jouster, even Anne herself knew that to be true and she had never even attended one of the Court's Tourneys before. The event carried on at the same ridiculously slow speed that the starting ceremony had seemed to, with different riders passing up through the ranks or falling out of the games altogether, but with each new match up, the forceful sounds of the sport seemed to grow louder and the crashing of the Knights and the smashing of the lances all the more violent. She was finding it harder and harder to keep the small, false small on her face as she could feel it cracking and splintering with every flinch that over took her body. But despite this she found it impossible to look away, she didn't even notice the King reaching for her hand and so she jumped rather violently when she felt the rough warmth of his callous, worn fingers slipping between hers as he gently pried her tight grip from the armrest. She just couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the brutality that was being played out in front of her, no matter how much she wished she could. So instead she settled for just squeezing Henry's hand as tightly as she could in appreciation, he squeezed back and tenderly rubbed his thumb back and forth across the cold skin of the back of her hand in an attempt to sooth her.
So far into the Tournament no one who had ridden had either fallen nor been thrown from their horse and no one had received any true injuries, other than some considerable bruising at most, however all that was about to change as the next competitors took their positions and waited for the flag to be raised.
Anne had never before attended a Joust in England, she had never attended a Joust in France before either for that matter, in fact she had only ever attended one Joust in her life that she could remember and that had been as a child at Margaret of Austria's Court. She had been quite young at the time and to be perfectly honest she only really remembered the end of that Joust, of the two very large splinters of wood that had been stuck in the throat of a lovely, warm, bushy bearded man who used to kiss her on her forehead and call her "His dear, little heart". The thing that for some reason stood out most vividly in her memory of that day was just how long it had taken for her father's friend to actually die, at the time it had seemed to take hours and the sounds of his choking, ragged gasps for breath as he drowned in his own blood had haunted her dreams and given her nightmares for months.
So when the Knight closest to Anne and Henry was flung from his horse with a mass of lance splinters flying around him as he fell, Anne felt the air leave her body entirely and she let out a dry sob of a gasp, her hands went utterly limp by her sides. The crowds all rose up to their feet, a few Ladies screamed and the fallen Knight's Squires and Grooms ran hastily alongside two of the Tournament's Physicians, to reach the man who was laid out on his back unmoving in the sand of the Tiltyard. She watched with silent tears streaming hotly down her face as the Knight's men and the Physicians surrounded him. She was vaguely aware that Henry had leaned closer to her and was quietly calling her name in a near whisper, as to not draw any unwanted attention to the state she was in, but all she could really hear in her head was the choking, gasps of Roger Bartmoor.
"Anne!" Henry spoke more forcefully and gave her a discreet nudge.
She Blinked through her tears and turned to face her husband, concentrating on the details of his face as she tried to tune out the echoes of the past.
"He's alright sweetheart, he just fell and had the wind knocked out of him, but he's alright I promise you. Look he is sitting up now."
Anne's eyes shot rapidly back over to the Tiltyard and saw that Henry was indeed right and the Knight was being helped by one of his Squires to sit up, one of the Physicians was removing the man's helm to help him catch his breath and to check for any other injuries.
She swallowed unsteadily and took a what felt like too shallow a breath before glancing back at the King "Henry please let me go and catch my breath for a moment, I swear all I need is a few minutes?" She pleaded desperately.
The King immediately agreed to her request, he looked guiltier than she had ever seen him look, he was ashamed of himself for forcing her to sit through the Tourney, she could see it plainly in his eyes. "Do you need me to accompany you?" He asked
She shook her head as she stood, her voice came out a little shaken but with a determined edge creeping in "No thank you, Your Majesty. I only need a small moment, I shall not even need my Ladies to come with me either. You must all enjoy the games, I will be back very soon."
Anne managed rather successfully to excuse herself from the crowded Stands with very little fuss and without really being noticed to have left by any Courtiers, as nearly everyone was watching the fallen Knight as he was helped to stand. It had proved to be an excellent moment to escape from sight. She roamed down the pathway with little care as to where she was going, all she hoped to find was somewhere quiet and private in order to gather her thoughts and put herself back together, no matter how clumsily, she just needed to pull it together enough to be able to get through the rest of the day. Henry most likely wouldn't make her return tomorrow to watch the second day of the Tournament, or at least she prayed that he would not. Once she had pieced herself back into order, she would return to the Stands and keep herself busy by chatting to Nan, she wasn't particularly in the mood nor the mind frame to want to chat, but she knew she couldn't go back and watch any more of the Joust. All it did was remind her of horrible things and she did not want to remember Roger that way, he had been a wonderful man that deserved to be remembered at his best, rosy cheeked and grinning with endless mirth. Anne shook her head as if to physically shake the dark thoughts away.
"Your Majesty?"
Anne gasped embarrassingly, loudly at the young boy's voice, that had startled her out of her thoughts. The voice had come from just behind her and it was as she turned to face him, she realized just how far she had wandered from the Tiltyard, she was once more stood on a winding, dirt path surrounded by brightly coloured, empty tents. The boy that had spoken was stood less than two foot to her left and was very young, at the very most he was maybe nine and he had lovely green eyes and chestnut coloured curls, his small hands holding a flagon of wine carefully in front of his chest. Anne gave the child a nervous smile "I didn't see you there!"
The boy's eyes took on a nervous look of their own, clearly thinking he had disturbed her. She quickly realized her mistake and rushed to put him at ease with a softer smile "I was lost in my own thoughts, that's all." She reassured him, then tilted her head as she looked down at him "What is your name?"
"Olivier, Your Majesty." He replied with an exceedingly, well practiced bow.
Anne found her own smile grow as she stared at the kind, little grin on the child's face, "Olivier? That's a very handsome name"
He practically gleamed at the praise and thanked her with a small red blush that flooded his round cheeks.
"Are you a Squire?"
He shook his head "A Valet, Your Majesty"
"Well I'm sure that whomever your Lord is, he is very lucky to have a fine young man such as yourself in his service"
The blush on his little face grew even redder and he looked down at his feet in pleased embarrassment, however as he glanced back up there was a question hovering in his eyes "Is Your Majesty well? Forgive me but you looked a little sad before. Is there anything I can do for Your Majesty? Anything at all?"
God he is young! She thought, an older servant would never have dared comment on her apparent sadness. She felt her smile slip from her lips and a small frown took its place.
"I did not mean to offend Your Majesty!" Olivier rushed to say, panic colouring his tone
"And you haven't" She insisted "It's just..you're right, I am a little sad today." She shrugged as though it did not matter very much that she was unhappy.
"Are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help?" He asked
Anne shook her head "I just think what I really need is a good night's sleep and to see my sister again." She swallowed down the knot she had felt developing in her throat "I just really want to see my older sister again." She took a few steps forward and put a hand upon Olivier's narrow and bony, little shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze "Besides I would not dare take you away from your duties to your Lord, otherwise he might get cross and start a rumour about Court that the Queen steals servants for herself!" She teased, making him grin brightly again.
"I don't think my Master would mind, he is a very honourable and gracious man, my father was so proud that I was chosen to be one of his new Valets."
"Is that so?" She said, a playful smirk pulled at her lips and she raised a brow, she highly doubted that whichever Lord had employed Olivier, was in anyway different from the typical ambitious, self-serving snakes that functioned as Courtiers these days. But nevertheless she found it quite adorable and incredibly sweet that the child had such faith and pride in his Master, that must have meant that at the very least the man was good to his servants.
"Olivier? Lad what is taking s-" Charles Brandon's question seemed to die upon his lips as he exited his black and yellow, stripped tent only to stumble upon Anne stood just to his right with her hand resting on Olivier's small shoulder.
Anne's whole body went stiff as her eyes snapped up to lock with the Duke's, he looked just as surprised and awkward as she certainly felt.
"Oh sorry, Your Grace!" Olivier said glancing back over his shoulder to see his Master "I have the wine you requested just here." He seemed blissfully unaware of the complete change in atmosphere as he passed the dark flagon to the Duke.
Charles pulled his gaze away from her and gave the boy a tight smile, that was really more of a pull at the corners of his lips. "Thank you. Go join the others at the Lists, I'll be along soon very soon." He said "Oh and tell Richard, he was right about the stirrups on the new saddle, they do need slight adjustments."
Olivier nodded eagerly and once again performed his quite clearly rehearsed bow, first for her as his Queen and then again for his Lord, before he hurried off as fast as his little legs would carry him without actually breaking into a run.
Anne kept her eyes fixed upon the Valet as he left, watching him weave around a corner before she had no choice but to meet Charles' gaze. She barely resisted the childish urge to look down at her feet like a little girl when met with the sheer intensity she saw within his dark, blue eyes. Neither of them spoke for several long moments, Anne had been trained out of fidgeting as a child but it seemed as though the Duke had not, she observed his grip on the long neck of the flagon of wine tightening, then loosening, then tightening and squeezing before he repeated the sequence of actions over again several times as the silence stretched and grew between them.
"Anne I-"
"Your Majesty." She stated with a calmness she did not feel
He blinked at the correction and at her tone, seemingly taken aback that she wasn't glaring and sneering at him like she had earlier that morning as she had walked past him on her way to the Stands. He swallowed down his slight confusion before trying again "Are you alright?"
"Do I not look alright?" She asked tonelessly
Charles stared down at her for a moment, running his eyes over her face, no doubt taking stock of the dark purple bags under her eyes that betrayed her sleepless night. "Look, I know you must hate me for what happened with your father yesterday, but h-"
"I don't like Jousts very much." She interrupted in the same hushed and toneless voice, but it stopped him dead in his tracks as though she had shouted.
He frowned deeply "Pardon?"
"I don't like Jousting, I hate it as a matter of fact. That's why I look like this, I am not unaware of just how awful I look Your Grace." She shrugged one delicate shoulder "I just don't like having to watch this brutal sport, I find it rather upsetting. That's all there is too it."
Charles just stared silently at her, she was unbalancing him and she enjoyed it, it gave her back a small portion of power, but she could still feel the humiliation he had caused her bubbling around at the back of her mind though.
"I saw you this morning before the Jousting began, Anne I-"
"It's Your Majesty." She repeated, cutting in again and causing him to practically growl in frustration, the sound sent a shiver of something she wouldn't name down her spine.
Charles inhaled loudly through his nose "I know that I got your father banished from Court, I know that it has hurt you and I know that you probably hate me now more than ever b-"
"Yes, I do!" She seethed, some strength and venom rushing back into her voice, there was then a tense silence between them for a moment as two pimply faced, young boys in richly embroidered Livery ferried freshly polished helms and gauntlets in quick little spurts of jogging from a blue and green tent back towards the Tiltyard, the lads hardly seemed to notice her and Charles off to the side by the Duke's own tent. The boys' attentions were far too wrapped up in their own tasks for their Master, their own stress occupying them to the point they were practically blind to all else.
"I won't apologize for having him banished, what he did was bordering on treason, he's lucky he's not in the Tower awaiting Trial. That's what the King wanted done with your father!" Charles said sharply.
She had known that it could be seen that way, but it still took her breath away to hear just how seriously her father could have been punished. "I explained what had occurred with my father, to you. It wasn't Treason by any stretch-"
"You're lying to me and you're lying to yourself if you actually believe he meant you no harm yesterday."
Anne's jaw slackened, she felt like his words had had a physical weight to them and that each of them had been a hit to her gut, she didn't want to admit the truth of them, she couldn't bear to. She broke their locked gaze and licked her suddenly dry lips "If the King had wanted my father in the Tower, then why isn't he there now? Why is he on his way back to Hever?"
"Because I knew what it would have done to you, so I talked him into choosing banishment instead."
She bit down on her lower lip, she hated the way he was looking at her "If you think for one second that I should thank y-"
"I don't think that! Nor would I want that. I am just explaining to you why I won't apologize for having him banished and why I don't feel any guilt over getting that villain away from the King and you!" He said while staring down her ghostly face.
"Oh of course not." She agreed with a forceful nod of her head "He was your enemy and you used what you witnessed as a weapon to destroy him and wound me. Why on earth would I expect an apology?"
Charles seemed to almost flinch at the spite in her tone, but she wasn't finished yet. "But don't you dare stand there acting all noble and heroic and try to pretend that you did it in any small portion to protect me. At least have the balls to own up to the truth of why you did it, I'll still hate you but I might actually respect you at least. You did it because you hate my father and have done so for years, you wanted him away from power and influence and when the opportunity arose, you seized upon it, no matter the cost or damage to me. But we're enemies so why would that matter? Why would I ever expect an apology? Why ever would it matter?" She felt breathless, she took in a gasp of air as she watched a riot of emotions play out on the Duke's face, she couldn't really make out how he felt in that moment about what she had said, there were just too many emotions that had flashed through his eyes far too quickly to have made out any single one. But all that remained at the end was a very deep frown that dented his features.
She glanced down at the dirt path beneath them and took another shaky breath "I don't expect nor want an apology from you Charles, because the truth is, I was the fool in all this. I was the idiot that for some reason believed I could trust you, yes I do hate you but I promise you Your Grace, I hate myself far more for being foolish enough as to actually be disappointed and for believing that some part of you might-" Anne stopped herself short, her chin was quivering and her whole body trembled.
She did feel incredibly foolish perhaps because while Charles hadn't betrayed her in the strictest sense as he had never actually promised not to say anything, he had never promised her anything at all in fact, it was instead a betrayal of the kind of man she had slowly been coming to believe him to be, a betrayal of the strange connection she had thought was there between them but now feared she had entirely imagined. Charles looked as though she had slapped him, his mouth opened to respond only to shut immediately, he screwed his eyes shut for a moment in sheer frustration. Finally after what had felt to her like an eternity, he seemed to have cleared through his thoughts enough to speak "I never wanted you to get hurt in this-"
"But you knew that I would"
"Yes" He said sharply "I never wanted this to cause you pain but I knew that it would and I still chose to do it anyway. Because I wanted him away from the King, away from Court, away from power and influence and after seeing the terror on your face yesterday as you looked up at him, I wanted him as far as fucking possible away from you!"
Anne's lips parted in shock at the anger in his voice, she suddenly found the intensity that burnt feverishly within his eyes as he looked down at her far too much to deal with, she ripped her gaze from his and took an unsteady step back. "You should go, Your Grace, I believe you are expected back at the Lists, your next match is coming up soon and His Majesty is waiting for me. I've already been gone longer than I should have been." The words fell out of her mouth in a rush and she kept her eyes lowered as she spoke, the look in his eyes had unsettled her and left her uneasy.
Charles shot an agitated hand through his sweat soaked hair and gave her a rough nod "Fine." He grunted, throwing a "Your Majesty" over his shoulder as way of goodbye as he turned and left.
Anne had taken several minutes to gather herself once Charles had marched off back to the Tiltyard, before beginning to slowly make her own way back towards the Stands. She had decided to ask Henry if she could be excused from the remaining portion of the Tournament. She was just far too exhausted both physically and emotionally to have to return and sit through hours more of the sport. She hoped that Henry would allow her to leave early, and for once she was rather sure that he would be accommodating as he had certainly appeared as though he regretted forcing the whole ordeal on to her. So by the time she had reached the Stands and made her way carefully up the wooden staircase to stand by her husband's Throne, she felt calmer than she had been for most of the day. Henry noticed her arrival almost right away as though he had been anxiously awaiting her return, she smiled gratefully at him and was surprised when he reached out and took her hand into his own in order to give it a reassuring squeeze "How are you feeling sweetheart?" He asked with what sounded like actual concern and not just the impersonal, polite performance that had been their public interactions of late. As she looked into his eyes she could see an echo of the man he had once been, of the man she had fallen in love with.
"I feel a little better Your Majesty, and I will stay if you wish it of me but I must ask you if you will allow me to retire to my chambers? I fear I truly just haven't the stomach for the sport." She asked with all the sincerity she could inflect into her voice and she practically sagged with relief when he replied with "Of course, my Queen."
Anne heard the Herald announce that opponents Sir Thomas Marbury and His Grace, Charles Brandon were in position and waiting for the flag to be raised, as she knelt to kiss Henry's hand in appreciation of his kindness, and she heard the thundering of the war horses' hooves as they raced to meet in the middle as she rose back up, and it was as she turned to leave that her eyes glanced over to the yard just in time to see Charles get viciously hit and violently thrown back off his destrier. Time seemed to slow down and Anne didn't make a sound at first, she felt her heart and stomach plummet down to her knees as a silent terror ripped its way through her whole body until all that came out was a quiet, broken inhale before she screamed.
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Thank you all so much for all reviews and favourites, I can't begin to express just how much they make my day. I hope you enjoy this new Chapter. I also just wanted to add that this will be a turning point in the story for Anne, she is going to start rising up, she just kind of had to hit rock bottom first.