A/N: Two chapters back to back to attempt to make up for my long absence! Please review as it helps inspire me to churn these chapters out! I have a bit of a renewed inspiration that I hope will assist with the writers block that has delayed me :) ENJOY!
The mayday celebrations were set to be the most joyous occasion, yet Anne could not find it in her to be merry. Every fluttering standard and blow of the trumpet only served to remind her of the fateful day she had been led to the Tower just two years ago. She remembered waking up that morning in the grand bed of the queen, so terrified and yet with nowhere to flee. She had been like a frightened hare, sitting in the thrush, not knowing what direction danger was coming from, yet knowing the eagle was flying above her. The memories of that day clung to her as she broke her fast and attended matins with the queen and her ladies.
Jane was dressed as the perfect mayday queen in a pale pink gown with a lovely ivory stomacher, cut to give her swelling belly room to grow. The gown was embroidered with thread of gold and sparkled in the morning sun. Pastels always seemed to suit her and Anne had to admit she would look lovely in the royal box, presiding over the day's events. The other ladies of court, however, would follow Jane's example whether or not the coloring suited them at all. Joan Astley, for example, looked sallow in her yellow gown and the matching gable hood did nothing to help her weak chin. Anne herself, never one to conform to styles that clashed with her own preferences, wore a rich blue satin gown she had once favored before she became queen. She left her raven locks curling down her back, pulled up only by the gold plated headdress that paired with the gown so well.
The ladies were dismissed, excepting the few favorites that would escort the queen to the tourney field. Anne took the time to rush to her daughter's rooms, intent on allowing her sunny daughter to chase away the dread that had encased her all morning. As usual, Elizabeth burst into a bright smile at the sight of her mother and rushed forward to embrace her, ignoring the tutting of her governess for decorum. Anne smiled indulgently at her little girl, who seemed to never stop growing, before sweeping a playful curtsey.
"Madame Duchese D'Orleans." While the title would not be solidified until her marriage by proxy in a few years, King Francis had decreed his future daughter-in-law would be granted the title in the meantime by courtesy. Anne had been so proud that day her daughter had been presented to the French ambassador, when all her dreams for her little girl had been realized and she had been accepted by the French king. She refused to think about how the support had come too little, too late for her own security, and only focused on the delight her daughter felt at such a match. Ever since the formal betrothal signing, she had taken it upon herself to visit her daughter often, practicing Elizabeth's almost perfect french and commissioning new gowns, all in the french fashion, of course. Her delightful child was growing into a fine young woman, a true Tudor princess. Her once gold hair had darkened to a lovely shade of red that signaled her ancestry to all her glimpsed her. Elizabeth had also grown quite tall, shedding her childhood chubbiness and exposing a slender young lady who would certainly take after her mother's gracefulness. Today she was swathed in Tudor green silk with a french fleur de lis fixed proudly on her bodice, a perfect mix of her loyalties.
Elizabeth giggled at her mother's formal address before taking her arm, smiling up at Anne lovingly. Anne greeted her sister and little niece, also present. The Boleyn girls had decided to arrive en masse to the mayday celebrations. Mary and her daughter Catherine, were dressed in fine gowns, and Anne was pleased to see how her patronage had helped her once destitute sister. It warmed Anne's heart to see her pretty sister positively glowing and knew she owed her brother-in-law a debt for taking care of Mary when Anne was too stubborn and too wrapped up in her father's influence to help.
Elizabeth and little Catherine walked ahead of them towards the tourney field, giggling like schoolgirls, while their mothers followed, smiling at the closeness shared by the cousins. Anne had insisted that Catherine join Elizabeth's household and hoped the friendship would blossom. While Mary would be reluctant to see her daughter join Elizabeth in France, she knew it was an unrivaled opportunity. They approached the tourney field and Anne hugged her daughter before moving with her sister and niece to take their places in the stands when a man in the king's livery stepped up to Anne.
"Pardons, my lady Marquess. You are invited to join the Princess Royal in the royal box." Elizabeth, overhearing, beamed brightly at the thought of having her mother at her side, but Anne couldn't help but hesitate.
"Her Majesty has not appointed me to attend her today, sir."
But the man shook his head. "You are invited as a guest, my lady, as the princess' mother. Not as a lady-in-waiting to the queen." Anne nodded, drawing up her height to bring herself confidence before shooting a quick, apologetic smile to her sister and moving to follow the man, taking her daughter's arm again.
They walked together through the crowd, which parted and dipped their knees for the Princess Royal. Suddenly a plated man stepped in their path and kneeled reverently. He raised his visor and revealed the handsome face that had haunted Anne's dreams.
"Hal," she greeted warmly.
"Your Highness," Hal greeted Elizabeth first, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers."My lady," his warm brown eyes flicked to her and Anne had to stop her breath from catching as his lips pressed to the back of her hand as well.
"Will you ride today, Sir Hal? Your grace?" Elizabeth quickly corrected herself, though Anne and Hal both smiled indulgently at her first informal chosen address.
"I will, Your Highness. I expect Old Norris to give me quite a challenge, but I am sure I will prevail." Anne and Elizabeth both giggled at the teasing nickname for Sir Henry. "And in my victory, I will dedicate my win to the loveliest Princess Royal of England as my queen of love and beauty," his eyes slid almost imperceptibly to Anne to gauge her reaction before he focused on Elizabeth, who was practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of such an honor. Anne grinned at her little daughter before taking her wrist subtly and whispering in her ear. Elizabeth instantly adopted a mask of regal graciousness as she glanced down at the kneeling knight.
"How can I allow you to ride without favor, my knight errant? If you will grace me with the crown upon your victory..." She pulled the green silk ribbon from her wrist and Hal presented his own. Anne stepped back and allowed Elizabeth to tie the cord to the gleaming metal gauntlet alone, feeling a swell of affection for her childhood love in this show of devotion to her daughter. But before Elizabeth could finish her pretty bow, a cold voice interrupted them.
"The Princess Royal's favor is already claimed, I am afraid." The King came upon them, dressed in a fine emerald green doublet gleaming with gems that winked in the spring sunlight. While his face was etched with thunder when he addressed the kneeling knight, he forced himself to smile at his little daughter, who had frozen in fear. "The french ambassador begs the Duchese D'Orleans to bestow her favor on the knight in his train, so that she may bless his victory on the field." Elizabeth immediately smiled graciously, erasing whatever unease she had felt at her royal father's displeasure and stepped forward, taking his outstretched hand.
"Of course, Your Majesty" she replied smoothly, equally impressing and saddening Anne at how her little daughter had learned to tiptoe around her fickle father's rungs of displeasure. Henry sent an almost imperceptible smirk to Hal before turning towards the royal box, leading the princess away without another word. Anne hesitated, knowing Henry expected her to follow obediently. But she looked down at Hal's upturned face and couldn't just leave him.
Quickly, she pulled the cord from her own wrist and pressed it into his palm. Before she could stop herself, she bent and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before murmuring in his ear. "I give you the blessings of a different Boleyn girl'. She rose and hastened after the king, hoping he had not noticed her delay. Once she had caught up, she risked a glance back.
Hal was still kneeling in the grass, his eyes fixed in wonder at his hand as his fingers gently ran over the sapphire silk