Prompt: What did you dream last night?
Muse: Anne Boleyn
Fandom: Anne of the Thousand Days/The Other Boleyn Girl/Various Historical Works & Source Material
Word Count: 515


I do not shiver, and my steps are strong and proud. I walk towards the scaffold with the dignity of true nobility. My head is held high, and the gift of the sun's rays shields the faces of those I do not wish to gaze upon. For all are here, what choice have they? My own father and uncle, they shall watch as the pawn of their blood, who reached far higher than even they had imagined, shall come to her end. But I am no pawn of anyone, my initial move may have been at their push, yet as I strode boldly forwards, Bishops and Knights fell at my thirst. The pawn was no longer theirs to guide. For in that game I became Queen, and not one regret do I have.

Golden straw scattered afore me awaits the spill of my blood. The freshest of newly dried grasses reflecting the hope of a spring sun that has never seemed so blinding. And I am grateful for it. There is no chill to make me quake, the block is warmed by its kindly caress as I lay my neck upon it, and its golden glow is as rich and bright as my Elizabeth's hair. For with the drifting scent of the flowers of May and the glorious warmth of the sun's spring promise, the power of my ambition is truly born.

For through my dreams, there is true reason for this end. My blood will be well spent, and my Elizabeth shall be Queen. I have seen for myself. She will rule a greater England than any King can ever have built. Elizabeth, child of Anne the Whore and Henry the Blood-Stained Lecher, shall be Queen!

I had thought to dream of hopes of a son, the desperate wishes of a woman clinging to her life's regret on her last evening. My good Lady Kingston assured me that I would sleep well should I take enough wine. But no, I refused. My head will be clear, and I shall walk with as much grace as if I were dancing to one of Henrys galliards infront of the Spanish Infanta herself. Fear shall be far from my thoughts, and all shall see that, and every person that stands upon Tower Green shall remember that. Anne Boleyn shall fall with as much fortitude as she lived, and her blood shall reign.

I die strong. I die a Queen. I die proud. For through my daughter, I will live on. And England shall never see a greater Queen, and all shall know that in my last dream, I saw a future so great, that none shall ever forget.

The drums roll and the blade cuts through the air with a swish of such clarity, that in that straw I see not my blood, but the golden promise of an era yet to be realised. Straw that is the very colour of my Elizabeth's locks.

Whilst my public are indebted to you for my long awaited return, I will make one matter quite clear Madam. Be under no misconception that I desire nor will conspire to be placed in any world that is not my own. The multiverse be damned, for I shall not be taken for a fool. You will set aside this ill considered whim and folly at once. I command it! Anne, Queen of England has spoken, and let no man or woman, much less one of such lowly foundation dare to disobey.

I am the Queen, and I shall be heard!

http://community.livejournal.com/dear_mun/3984421.html

Prompt: Write about a time that you were the bearer of bad news.
Muse: Anne Boleyn
Fandom: Anne of the Thousand Days/The Other Boleyn Girl/Various Historical Works & Source Material
Word Count: 689

I do not think I had ever seen such a bounce to Hal's gait. Each swagger of his step, the inflated ego of his chest puffed and proud for all to see as he swept into my chamber in a thunderous celebration of the glorious news. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead still, the splashes of sodden turf staining his boots where he had no doubt galloped in eagerness to lift high the triumph of his passion. And the equine stench of his haste still lingered on his breeches. For in that child lay the future of his beloved England.

The child was borne and the bell had tolled, his heir, the apple of his eye, the healthy ripe fruit of his loin. Through my sweat and tears and blood, the child was born and never had I seen such a beautiful babe. A Tudor, with hair so red it seemed to be alight with the blood of his ancestry. A healthy child, with lungs and a heart as strong as his best stallion.

Such a fool was he, so self-involved that he had not thought to ask, he had not doubted. So sure of his manhood, so vehemently believing in his self elevated power was he. For he was a Tudor, King of England, Henry, Head of his own Church, with a God of his own whose will served him better than even the Pope himself, and even the rich soil of his lands conceded to that will.

Not one had dared to disobey my orders, for who would have it on their head to be the bearer of such a blow. But I, Anne, Queen of England, I would tell him. And I would promise him the earth itself, for of this disaster I would make good.

Pinch your cheeks and give them colour, sit up and smile, you are the Queen, brazen it out. A girl this time, but a boy next.

"Well! Is he strong?" The roar of his arrogance reverberated against even the panelled walls that absorbed so much usually. The broad grin of his accomplishment beamed for all to praise him, and yet they fell silent, a palpable breathless silence that staid all but my own. In my arms she nestled, I smiled down at her with all the love that I had ever given another living, breathing thing. For she was truly a promise of greater hope.

"My Lord." I lifted my gaze and did not falter in my joy nor did I cow to any fear, despite his conceited laugh, or the joyous rumble of his pride not yet compromised by any intuition as the child cried.

"Those are lungs that will out do the Spanish Ambassador, eh Nan? And the eyes, the eyes are clever."

I did not waver, my smile stayed true to the promise that the child brought. "I have bore you a daughter, your Majesty. We have a beautiful daughter Hal. Next time, a son!" The fortitude of my optimism rang brightly against the dulled hush. "Elizabeth. We shall call her Elizabeth."

I watched as his battered ego plummeted, my head held high and my jaw set firm as he enquired as to her health. Then he kissed my hand with as little courtesy as he reserved for the lowliest of courtiers and spun on the heels of his muddied boots.

"Will you not kiss your daughter, my Lord?" If I were to ride this out, then I would ride it with the true strength of a Howard, the challenge in my tone dancing on the knife's edge of his fury. He paused in his step, but he did not turn.

"My daughter? No. When she's older, when she has a brother!" The crash of the iron latch shuddered under the slam of his anger, but Elizabeth's tiny fingers curled around one of my own and I kissed them, delicate bones that gripped so firmly. She was a Tudor.

The first artwork for the The Other Boleyn Girl has sneaked its way onto the internet, and I am all kinds of excited now. I don't think anyone will ever beat Genevieve Bujold's portrayal of Anne, but Natalie Portman is most certainly a sound contender! The dress on the picture is exquisite, Henry's hand on Anne's breast is perfect! And I wait with baited breath to see if the movie script has cowed to the public and historians' criticism of the novel. I can't imagine it has, Philippa Gregory's fascinating twist in the tale was inspired, desperate times call for desperate measures. The constant knife's edge that was Henry's Court make it all the more believable, and my opinion of Anne has never faltered.

Roll on December and the US release. It can't come fast enough!!

((I could watch this as many times as I watched the movie!))

( Tarot Meme )