ANNE'S SECRET LOVER
My first TUDORS fanfic. I do not own these incredible characters or the writing genius of Michael Hirst. Please comment nicely!
"All right, let him have his hunts and his banquets and his stupid little Jane." Looking every inch the temperamental temptress, Queen Anne stormed off to her private chambers. The king had been a no-show at supper once again. After simmering and stewing for hours in her finest low-cut gown, Anne had no appetite either. Well, the music was her special friend, and she was bloody well going to dance on fire as it intended. Anne Boleyn wanted the world, and she wanted it now!
"You, Mark! Play something lively. Lively, I said!" The moment she reached her secluded bed chamber, Anne was already shedding heavy garments like a snake shedding its skin. She wanted to dance, to move, to feel the cool night air on her skin. Oh, why was the music always so plinky-twinky, so sugary sweet! She wanted something raw, something to light the fire that burned inside her. Twisting and writhing around her chamber, she danced and danced until her frightened ladies nearly begged her to sit down and sip some wine. Everyone was really quite relieved when she began to get sleepy, Anne could tell. She was such a wild child!
Dropping face-down into her pillows, Anne Boleyn found herself dreaming of her dark prince. He came to her often, a secret rival to King Henry VIII. He was forever calling to her from across the centuries, challenging her to go beyond the limits and break on through to the other side. Beyond mortality, they were destined to meet in eternal passion.
Get here and we'll do the rest.
Henry came home late, tired and frustrated after an evening supper with pure Jane Seymour. And there she was. His slut, his curse. Lying there oblivious. Even asleep, Anne was a wanton creature, moaning senseless words of desire.
"Wake up, woman," Henry snarled, shaking her awake. "Wake up! And before you die, tell me - who the hell is Jim Morrison?"
A/N: I know this is a very silly story, but Natalie Dormer's spectacular performance in Season 2 really reminded me of Jim Morrison's erotic genius. And I like to think of Anne Boleyn and Jim Morrison having hot sex for all eternity while a fat, saggy Henry VIII watches television with Elvis.
