AN: This is Henry Brandon/Eleanor Boleyn to Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'". Eleanor discovers her youngest daughter is flirting with the Earl of Hertford, Edward Seymour…NB: I've kept Edward Seymour's first son by Anne Stanhope alive, so he's only two years younger than Anne Brandon, rather than four. Set Christmas 1550.

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

I'd been through a lot in the 35 years of my life. I'd watched my sister entrance the King and flown to the very top of the pyramid alongside her. I'd become one of the most powerful women in England. Then I'd nearly lost it all. I'd lost almost everything I cared for. I'd lost my brother, my sister, my Queen. In fact, I'd very nearly lost the will to live. If it hadn't been for Henry, my wonderful husband Henry, and our beautiful children, Margaret, Anne, George and William (though the latter wasn't born then), I probably would have died.

So I knew better than anyone how treacherous a place the Court could be. But even I wasn't prepared for being caught up again in the power struggles that were taking place in the new King's Court. I hadn't intended to be. But when my fifteen year old daughter started to enjoy the company of the Duke of Somerset's thirteen year old son, I realised I would be. I realised I would be and I hated it.

The feeling swept over me at Christmas 1550, when Anne, William, Henry and I had gone to Court, though my eldest son George had stayed at our old home, Tattershall, with his new bride, his cousin, the Lady Jane Grey, as the young couple got to know each other. Margaret was married as well, so had wanted to spend Christmas with her family.

I was standing to one side, a tumbler of wine in my hand and watching the younger couples dance, when a familiar peal of laughter reached my ears. Turning towards it, I caught sight of Anne's honey-brown hair swinging out behind her as she spun flirtatiously around her partner and began to smile. She was so like her aunt.

However, when I realised who she was flirting with, the smile vanished from my face in an instant.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

I would have gone over and pulled them apart with my own hands, if Henry hadn't seen me stiffen and come up behind me at precisely that moment. He slipped his arms around my waist and nuzzled my hair.

"My Lady Duchess," he murmured, kissing the nape of my neck gently, trying to ease my tension. Though I didn't pull away, I shook my head slightly, just enough to tell him that I wasn't in the mood. Not now. Not after what I had just seen.

"What's wrong? It's Christmas. You should be happy."

"Have you seen who Anne's dancing with?" I hissed.

"Yes, it's the Earl of Hertford. So?"

"So? So he's a Seymour, that's what! His father helped supplant my sister. He helped her fall; helped his milksop of a sister take her rightful place at King Henry's side. His family's the reason we're kneeling to King Edward now and not King John."

"John?" Henry asked, sounding confused. I managed a smile, "It would always have been John. After John, Duke of Lancaster. And a second Princess would have been Philippa. Anne loved the story of John of Gaunt's love for Katherine Sywnford…and she always dreamed of being like Good Queen Philippa."

My voice trailed off as the memories overcame me. Then I remembered what we had been discussing. My voice went hard. "I'm never letting Anne marry that boy. There's no way in Hell I'll ever do it."

"Eleanor, you can't hold the boy's parentage against him. He's an innocent."

"Huh!" I cut Henry off impatiently, "With an infatuation for an aunt, a father like His Grace of Somerset and a mother like Anne Stanhope? I highly doubt that!"

My voice was just a fraction too loud. The courtiers around us threw us puzzled looks. Henry quickly grabbed my waist again and steered me for the door, all the while whispering in my ear.

"Besides, who's to say that one dance will come to anything? Anne's only fifteen. And young Lord Hertford's even younger. Even if they do like each other, it's probably nothing more than a Christmas flirtation. Let it be, Eleanor, please."

"Have you forgotten we were married at fifteen, My Lord Suffolk?" I retorted, "And anyway, you won't have seen the way Anne was looking at him. You men never do. I saw it and I'm not happy with it."

Henry fell silent for a moment and I was about to finish my tirade savagely when he suddenly murmured, "You weren't like this with Margaret or George. You let them marry whoever they wanted."

I swung round on Henry, grateful that we were no longer in the ballroom. "Have you forgotten that we chose George's bride for him? Of course I wasn't going to argue against Jane. I might not like your sister particularly, but she has brought up three beautiful girls. I can't deny that. And as for Margaret, well, she never chose to want a Seymour, Thank God. I would have been the same with her if she had. Those Seymours were born my enemies and they will die my enemies. No child of mine will ever marry a Seymour!"

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

"They're my children too!" Henry snapped. Before either of us knew what he was doing, he had grabbed my arm and was digging his fingers into it; so hard it was sure to leave bruises the next morning. I gasped. He'd never been this brutal to me before. Never.

"They are my children and you, Eleanor Brandon, are my wife! Might I remind you that I am the Duke of Suffolk, not you? You might have been the Queen's favourite sister once, but that was a long time ago. That Queen is dead. She's been dead nearly fifteen years. Don't you think it's time to stop being loyal to her memory? She tried to stop us getting together, remember. Your sister's judgement was never exactly her strongest point!"

"Crack!"

I wrenched myself free and slapped Henry across the face with all the strength I could muster.

"Don't you ever dare speak of my sister like that again, Henry Brandon!" I screamed. "Don't you dare! After all, it's not as if you can talk! Your father seduced the Princess of England, the Dowager Queen of France! Before her mourning was over, might I add? So don't you ever talk to me of poor judgement!"

Tears blurred my vision and threatened to spill over. My voice was shaking; threatening to crack altogether. I was trembling all over; trembling with ire. Henry sent me a look of pure poison.

All of a sudden, though, he melted. He pulled himself together and reached out his hand to me, "Eleanor. Eleanor, darling, I'm sorry." For an instant, I was reminded of my sister and the late King, except that I was playing the King and Henry was playing my sister. I hesitated.

"Henry..," I started. Coming across to me, he took me into his arms and stroked my hair, rubbing my back soothingly.

"Shh, love. I know. I know. I shouldn't have spoken of your sister like that. I know. I wish I could take it back. Truly. But the thing is, you have to understand, the world's changed since she was Queen. A different family's risen to power now. Like it or not, the Seymours are the first family in England now. They're the first family in England now and we've got to work with them. We've got to."

"I don't want to," I protested. I knew I sounded like a sulky child, but I couldn't help it. I'd been raised to hate the Seymours. I'd been raised to it and, after what they'd helped King Henry do to my sister, I would never be able to work past that prejudice. Henry exhaled slowly.

"I know, Eleanor, I know," he repeated patiently, "But believe me, I'm saying this for your own good. You escaped your sister's downfall by the skin of your teeth. If you refuse to work with the Seymours now, God only knows what could happen to you. And Anne wouldn't want anything to happen to you, would she? No. she'd want you here, safe and sound, where you can protect her daughter Elizabeth."

"Lisabelle doesn't need me anymore. She's seventeen, for Goodness' Sake," I argued. Henry scoffed lightly.

"Really? And what about the Thomas Seymour scandal two years ago? Did she not need you then? Did you not manage to protect her good name by letting her come to stay with you after Queen Katherine's death? I think you did and I think your sister would be very grateful to you. So don't you tell me Elizabeth doesn't need you, hmm?"

"When you put it like that…." I conceded. Henry chuckled and hugged me tight.

"I told you. So please, believe me. You're needed here, more than you know. But you can't afford to work against Edward Seymour, not for something as trivial as a flirtation over the Christmas period. He's the King's Uncle, as well as Duke of Somerset and Lord Protector. Just let the children be and, if it gets serious, we'll talk to them as well as to him. All right?"

Exhaling slowly, I let the fight go out of me and leaned into his touch, "All right."

"Good. Thank you, my love. You know I only have our best interests at heart."

"I know," I assured him, forcing a smile to my lips as I leaned up to give him a conciliatory kiss. He responded briefly, then took my arm and led me back into the Great Hall, ready to present a united front as we continued to celebrate Christmas with the rest of King Edward's Court.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.