She was meant to serve the king.
She had no place.
No importance.
No story.
Simply taste the King's food for poison and leave.
But the King's infatuation with her was more than anything normal.
He wanted more than to stare
Just a little taste
A lit...
Another boring day at the king's court had dawned. I wasn't thrilled with the court's unvaried affairs but I had to deceive the masses and pretend I was interested. Being present would not only boost my development in obtaining the title of queen but would also cement my status in the eyes of the court.
Henry's sights were on every palace whore and ripening handmaiden but that did not matter. He could sleep with 3 girls, even 10, but only one woman could be his queen.
I heard the rumors!
Henry had taken a particular liking to me since the killing of his precious Anne Boelyn. Little did he know that I was the very one who persuaded him to do it. He blamed Cromwell for his wrongdoings and I did not object. Better he blame Cromwell than me.
But the little whispers in his ear as he hummed to sleep and the delicate seeds of doubt I had planted in his heart as he kissed my cheeks? That was me. I had killed his precious Anne Boleyn. Guilt? I felt it not. Shame? It was not an emotion that filled me. Pride was the only emotion that cloaked my spirits.
The distant conversations of men and distinguished chancellors alike vibrated against the walls of the spacious court, Their greedy eyes cemented onto my figure as I walked to my bench placed opposite the kings. Henry would stare at my bosoms from across the court when he grew bored so I suppose it was a treat for him.
"She is beautiful" "Look how she holds her head with pride"
The men's usual praise filled my ears, each of them eager to get a glimpse.
How I hated every one of them.
I knew my countenance was something to behold so it was sound they discussed me. A few of my handmaidens trailed at my feet, running ahead to ready my chair and pull out my seat.
What a pity these girls were. I too was once like them, doing my best to please Anne Boleyn and look favorable in her eyes but then, I fucked her husband. She did not quite favor me after that but I had Henry's heart by then so I did not mind.
Henry
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"Come on, what gives?" my friend Philip queries, pulling a loose string from the braided curtain tie. He looked at two handmaidens, walking by before teasing them a little. "These women are not as loose as they used to be" he grumbled, pushing his arms above his chest. I smiled at his frivolous complaints and looking into the distance. My mind was consumed with thoughts of her. Usually, it was consumed with hunger and worry but it seemed as if Anna had taken hold.
Her apprehensive nature did no favors to my heart. It was as if seeing the blood and gore did not thrill her? But why? I thought a lady like her would favor it?
"Henry another busty woman passed and you did not even turn your head?" Philip curses.
