A/N: Hi! GreenField here. My lovely fanfiction partner told me that she was writing a chapter for this at the moment, so I thought I'd better join her! Charles Brandon/Anne Boleyn to We Owned the Night by Lady Antebellum. Charles' POV. Extremely AU!
Tell me have you ever wanted
Someone so much it hurts?
Your lips keep trying to speak
But you just can't find the words
I had this dream once;
I held it in my hands
She was the purest beauty
But not the common kind
She had a way about her
That made you feel the light
And for a moment
She made the world stand still
I had no idea who she was, the day we first met. She was new to court, a slender and beautiful young woman with the most mesmerising eyes I had ever seen; dark and bold, with long dark lashes. All the other women had long since melted into one; the dull mixture of blondes and brunettes, with their light eyes and pale faces and court laughs. But Anne was different, I knew that at first sight. Anne was different, and she would be mine.
She was dancing with Henry Percy. I wanted to cut in, but he was the Duke of Northumberland, after all, and he was making her smile. So I waited. And that night I dreamt about her. I saw her face, her smile, her long dark hair, those big dark eyes, the flare of her red dress as it whipped around her. I wanted her so badly that I wasn't sure I'd be able to speak to her, when the time came.
I was wrong.
"My Lady, would you care to dance?"
She turned to look at me, that next night, as though considering me. Her eyes scanned my face, as though trying to decide whether or not it was a serious offer.
"If you like, my Lord Suffolk" she said, almost shrugging. So she knew who I was, then, this beautiful goddess with her stunning eyes.
"I would like it very much" I replied truthfully, holding out my hand. She took it, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"What is your name?" I asked after a few long moments during which I could hardly breathe, let alone speak. She twirled beneath my guiding hand, throwing me a gleaming smile as she did so.
"Anne Boleyn, my Lord"
"Thomas Boleyn's daughter?" I was surprised – how could this girl be the daughter of a man so...well, so dull?!
She laughed, a light, tinkling laugh, "The very same. And you are the Duke of Suffolk"
"Charles" I corrected quickly, "You must call me Charles"
"Charles" she rolled the name around her mouth as though tasting it, "As you wish, Charles"
"How did you know who I was?"
"Everyone knows who you are" she responded, "Especially me"
"Why you in particular?"
"Because I looked for you, of course. What woman would not?"
For a moment, I forgot that we were in the Great Hall of Greenwich Palace, surrounded by people, couples spinning and laughing and leaping around us. In that one moment, it was just me and her, Charles and Anne, and the only thing keeping me centred on Earth was the power of her eyes.
I leaned towards her, almost brushing her lips with my own, "Would you continue looking for me, Mistress Anne?"
"You must call me Anne" she scolded, smiling, "And of course I would. Like I said, what woman would not?" she paused, twirling again in her sunshine yellow gown, "Would you continue looking for me, Charles Brandon?"
"You and only you" I swore, "I would need look nowhere else"
Yeah, we owned the night
You had me dim the lights;
You danced just like a child
The wine spilled on your dress
And all you did was smile
Yeah, it was perfect
I hold it in my mind
Yeah, we owned the night
I courted her in secret for two months. It had to be a secret; I was married to Mary, my childhood sweetheart who now paled in comparison with Anne's darkly entrancing beauty, and her sister was the current mistress of the King. Both of us were always in the spotlight, but it was funny how the spotlight moved. Sometimes we could duck under it, Anne and me, and we could find a few minutes every day to share a dance or a meal or for me to present her with a posy of red roses, her favourite flower. She would reward me with her lovely smile and the sparkle in her dark eyes, nothing more, and I desired nothing more. At least, not at first.
After these two months of closeted courtship, I invited Anne to my rooms. I was not sure that she would come; I knew she still felt some loyalty to Mary, who had once been her Mistress in Calais – how had I not noticed her then?! – and she had never shown any indication of willing to go further than a chaste kiss.
We dined together, Anne and me. I had musicians bought in and once we had eaten our fill, we danced. We danced for hours, our bodies close, her eyes glittering with mirth and joy and something like love. When the musicians had left and we were alone again, I was so nervous I knocked over a goblet of wine onto the pale ivory of her dress.
"Don't worry" she said gently, smiling, "It was an accident. It's just a dress"
"I'll buy you a new one" I promised, then, exuberantly, "I'll buy you a hundred new dresses if you'll only be mine!"
"I already am yours, Charles" another smile, "You're a fool if you don't see that"
When summer rolls around
And the sun starts sinking down
I'll still remember you
Oh, I remember you
And I wonder where you are
I try not to think about those times now. Anne and I are no more. Each time I think that thought, something stabs me in the heart. I loved her, I truly loved her, and she left me. She chose my best friend, the King of England. She doesn't love him, but I don't blame her for choosing him. He can give her everything I cannot; marriage, a crown, power, children. I could give her none of those things because they were never legally mine. She knew that. She understood that. But she still chose him.
I don't know where she is now. She's had him send me from court – she says it's because I made up rumours about her relationship with Thomas Wyatt, but that's just an excuse. I know she feels all wrong flirting with him when I am around; I see the pain in her eyes whenever we look at each other, the pain she feels simply because she had to tear our love apart.
Are you looking at those same stars again?
Do you remember when?
We woke under a blanket
All tangled up in skin
Not knowing in that moment
We'd never speak again
But it was perfect;
I never will forget
When we owned the night
But enough of that now. I want to remember, because memories hurt so much less than the present day.
So I remember the first night we spent together, the same night I spilt the wine on her gown. I remember the feel of her warm body, the smell of her hair and her skin, the way she whispered my name with such love, such unadulterated joy, that I knew for sure she was mine. I remember –
"My Lord Suffolk, a visitor for you"
I look up, nod to the maid to show I have understood, and rise from my seat. The maid, Bathsheba, glowers at me as she goes. She was Mary's maid really, and nowadays she hates me for not missing my wife more. Even though I do miss her, in my way.
"Charles?"
I haven't heard that voice say that name in a long time. Anne is standing in the doorway, a timid smile on her lips – Anne, who was always mine and never timid – wearing a very familiar gown of sapphire blue, the first gown I ever bought her, though this time it's draped it jewels that I certainly did not buy her. The sight of those diamonds, huge and gleaming, makes me flinch. She notices, draws her cloak tighter around herself.
"I'm so sorry" she whispers, "I just wanted to tell you that I'm so, so sorry for everything that went wrong between us"
I move to her, crush her and the satin of her gown into my arms, and press my lips to hers before she can say another word. I expect her to struggle, to tell me that we cannot be like this anymore, but she does not. When I draw away, she is smiling.
"Would you continue to look for me, Charles Brandon?" she asks, her eyes wet and her voice full of memory. My smile grows.
Yes" I promise, "You and only you. I would need look nowhere else"
Yeah, we owned the night