Title: A King's Ward
Author: The Real Black Swan
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary:
A lonely little girl makes a wish and wakes up in Tudor England, where she becomes the ward of King Henry VIII—forever changing the fate of his court.
AN: I'm not entirely sure what to say it's been so long and my writing is so different now, but anyways here's an updated version of the first two chapters. The next chapter will be uploaded next Monday. I will also be cross posting this to A03. As always thank you for reading.
Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Tudors'
Chapter 2
The soft afternoon breeze rustled the leaves above them, as Anne sat with her lady Nan and one of her maids. Delicately sipping from a goblet of wine, her gaze was fixed on the horizon, barely registering the chatter of her ladies. After the failure of the Blackfriars trial, she found herself unable to ignore the silent jeers and whispers of the courtiers, so she'd left and gone home. Hever was a place of comfort, of retreat—but also of waiting. And waiting had made her increasingly impatient.
When Henry had first proposed to her, it had all seemed so simple. Henry would ask the Pope and be granted an annulment, or Katherine could retire to a nunnery; it would not be the first time such a thing had happened. Katherine could've made things so simple, and yet instead, she continued to cling to the King. And Anne, as she'd mentioned often to the King, was only getting older.
Thinking of her impending marriage and the woman standing between it, she could not help but feel a pang of anger at Katherine. Katherine had made something so simple extremely difficult. Henry wanted to marry Anne, and she wanted to marry him. Katherine had only given the King one living daughter after six pregnancies; any other woman would have retired gracefully, but she would not. Anne supposed that if she were in the other woman's position, she would not go quietly if it meant giving up her child's claim to the throne, but still, she couldn't bring herself to sympathize with Katherine.
The clattering of hooves interrupted her musings. Anne looked up and saw the King approaching. Quickly hushing her ladies, she rose swiftly, her expression carefully neutral as Henry dismounted, his gaze fixed solely on her. He strode toward her with purpose, his face softening as he approached.
"Anne," he said, his voice low, almost tender.
"Your Majesty," Anne responded with a curtsey, inclining her head just enough to be respectful before nodding in greeting to her father, who had arrived with the King.
"Papa."
Henry took Anne's hand, pulling her gently to her feet, his eyes searching hers. "I have come to bring you back to court. It is too empty without you."
Anne gave a small, almost playful smile, though there was a hint of defiance in her eyes. "And if I am not ready to return?" she asked, her tone teasing but cautious.
Henry's lips curved into a grin. "Perhaps I could persuade you," he said, stepping closer. "A wager, perhaps?"
Anne raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A wager, Your Majesty? And what would that entail?"
Henry's grin widened. "A race. If I can beat you to the edge of the forest and back, you shall return to court with me. If you win... well, then I shall grant you more time here, if that is what you truly desire."
Anne looked at him for a moment before nodding. "Very well, Your Majesty. A race it shall be," she said, smiling up at him.
Thomas smiled at the sight before him, pleased to know that his daughter's petulant departure from court had not harmed her relationship with His Majesty. Though, at a later time, he would remind Anne that it was imperative to stay in the King's good graces.
Thomas nodded to Nan to keep an eye on the two and act as a witness, though he doubted anything untoward would happen. He'd told his daughter not to give in to the King under any circumstances, for there was no telling if his love would be so great once he'd had her. While their family would benefit from Anne being the King's mistress, as they slightly had when his daughter Mary had been, it would be nothing compared to being the father of the Queen of England, grandfather to a Prince of Wales.
After asking for permission, he headed back to the estate. He would write to Norfolk, as with the failure of the Blackfriars, Wolsey was now completely exposed.
With Thomas' departure, Anne turned back to Henry, a glint of excitement in her eyes as he helped her mount her horse that had been brought along by his serving man.
Henry leaned over his horse, his eyes locked on Anne. "Ready?"
"Go!" Anne shouted, digging her heels into her horse's sides. They took off, the wind whipping at Anne's hair and skirts. She could hear Henry beside her, his laughter ringing out as they approached the edge of the forest.
As they neared the trees, Anne pulled ahead. She glanced back at Henry, a triumphant smile on her lips—until a sound, soft but distinct, reached her ears. Anne pulled her horse to a sudden stop, her eyes scanning the thicket. Henry, noticing her hesitation, reined in his own horse, turning to look at her.
"What is it?" he called, his brow furrowed.
Anne held up a hand, listening. There it was again—a faint cry.
"Did you hear that?" she asked.
Henry's expression shifted and he dismounted, his gaze fixed on the dense undergrowth. "Stay here," he instructed, though he ought not have bothered as Anne was already dismounting.
They moved carefully toward the sound, Henry pushing through the underbrush, his broad frame parting the branches. There, half-hidden beneath a tangle of bushes, lay a small child—a girl, no more than seven or eight years old.
The child's pale blonde hair was matted, and dirt clung to her face. A small gash marred her forehead and the girl was trembling as Henry knelt beside her. Behind him, he could hear Anne gasp at the sight before stepping closer to the girl, readying her shawl to bundle the child in.
Henry almost chided her, his fear of contagion barely bubbling to the surface, but seeing Anne so willing to help calmed him.
"It's all right, little one," Anne murmured as she wrapped the shawl around the child, who was still slightly whimpering in pain. With a better look at her, Henry could see that her dress, while covered with dirt and torn, was that of a noble child.
"Anne, please ride back and tell your father to ready a room and call for a doctor. I'll ride back with the child," he said, and Anne nodded, hurrying to her horse.
"What is your name, child?" Henry asked softly.
The girl only shook her head, her fingers clutching at the gold chain around her neck her mouth moved but she seemed unable to get a word out. Suddenly her eyelids fluttered, and her small body swayed, her already pale face growing even paler.
"Steady, child," he murmured, reaching out to steady her just as her knees buckled and she slumped forward, her body going limp in his arms.
"God's blood," Henry whispered and quickly her lifted her up carefully carrying her over to his horse.
With child held securely against her chest, he climbed onto his horse, shifting once he was on it to position the child so that her head rested against him, keeping the tiny girl cradled close to him as he urged his horse forward.