A/N: Hey, it's me, GreenField! I was listening to this song the other day, and decided it's perfect for Anne. Set the night before her coronation. Please read and review! Song is 'Blackbird', by the Beatles, which I do not own!
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Anne stood at the window of the Tower of London. These rooms had been made especially for her. Tomorrow, a coronation had been planned, especially for her. A cloth of gold gown covered in jewels had been made, especially for her. Sometimes, she felt like it was too much. But she had been waiting for this moment all her life.
Her long black hair flowed silkily down over her back -Henry liked to brush it, to feel those dark tresses running through his fingertips. Now Anne wound it round her fingers, round the giant ruby ring that Henry had given her, what, six years ago now? The ruby that had labelled her as a virtuous woman, which she still wore although her belly was growing round with his child. Their heir, their Prince. How long had she waited for this? She'd always given herself airs and graces, but she had never imagined they'd amount to anything. How wrong she had been.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
She gazed up at the moon – a glowing full moon, which she had heard a maid whisper that that was a sure sign of Anne being a witch. Anne had snorted with unladylike laughter, and the maid had appeared horrified by such a display.
Anne opened her dark eyes wide, letting dreams of her future dance before her eyes. Tomorrow, when she would be crowned, a sure sign to all the court that she was in her rightful place. September, when the Prince she carried inside her would be born. She hoped that he would be golden haired and ruddy cheeked like his father, but with her eyes. The Boleyn eyes. Maybe next year, when she would have other children. She would have to have a second Prince, of course, just in case, but she would love a daughter. If she had a daughter, that child could be truly hers. She just hoped that the boys would come along first. She saw herself ageing, organising the marriages of her children, maybe marry her youngest little girl to the son of the King of France. She imagined maybe living past Henry – she was younger – and seeing her son, their boy, crowned at Westminster Abbey just like she would be. She imagined dying happy and content, with her baby brother by her side and her children sobbing over her grave. She liked that idea.
Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night
Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night
As she closed her eyes and let the cool night air wash over her, she felt as though she had just turned a corner in her life. She felt as though nothing would ever be the same again. Why, she wasn't really even Anne Boleyn anymore – since January she had been Anne Tudor, wife of King Henry VIII of England. She was practically a Queen - she would never go back to being a merchant's granddaughter, the daughter of a failing courtier, stuck at Hever all her days.
She was Anne Boleyn no longer. She was Anne Tudor, Marquess of Pembroke and Queen of England.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise