The Other Henry VIII

Forbidden

17 August 1520
All had been reasonably well for a few months, if you can call having an affair behind your husband's back 'well'.

"You are so lucky, Thomas,"whispered Diana, rolling over in the dust, "that I, who gave the King two children in two years, have not got with child yet!"
"Perhaps,"her lover replied, "perhaps not. You have proven to be fertile enough. But then, so was Queen Sophia."
"Her? She lost three out of her four children!"laughed Diana, sitting up and brushing the dirt off her shoulders. "I wish that we could spend one night in somewhere other than the foot of a tree!"
"So do I, darling,"said Thomas, "but we cannot be in a place where someone is likely to see us."
"A shame,"sighed Diana, not a bit disheartened, "but I think I will persuade Mar—Her Majesty to move court."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"John...what's wrong?"asked Margaret, approaching her husband as he gazed distantly out of the window. "We're not going far, it's only Richmond Palace. Will you miss here?"
"No... it's not that,"said John thoughtfully, "it's just... Doesn't it seem odd to you? That Diana would ask if we can move court. She—she always preferred Whitehall. That's why we're here. I just can't work it out."
"Maybe she just wanted a fresh start?"asked Margaret, "she's your sister, you know her better than I."
"But that's the point, you see. Diana isn't like that." He turned round, and, seeing Margaret's expression, "it's probably just me."
"Yes,"agreed his wife, "I think it is." She wrapped her arms around his neck lovingly, and looked up at her husband's green eyes with a little smile. "But then— isn't it always?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's such a shame that Lady Herbert cannot serve you anymore,"said Margaret coldly to Diana, not long after they had arrived at Richmond. "She informed me of her betrothal shortly before we left, so I have arranged for two new ladies to serve you in her place."
Diana folded her arms, and, eyebrows raised, "two? Surely Your Highness will not indulge me." The thick sarcasm in her voice was sharp and obvious.

"I suppose it is your decision if I am indulging you or not, Your Grace,"replied Margaret in an equally patronising tone, "but don't mind me. I am only the Queen of Eng—"
"I AM THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND!"roared Diana, marching towards her sister-in-law, "YOU ARE JUST THE REGENT! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT—"
"You have no right to insult me. Yes, I may only be Regent, but I am your superior for now. His Majesty made his choice, and it is my duty,"explained Margaret calmly, her inflections surprisingly even.
Diana scowled. "Your duty? What do you care about duty? You spent 6 months in exile!" Margaret narrowed her eyes, standing up on the raised platform, and looked down at Diana with pure contempt embedded in her eyes.

The room was completely silent.

"A bit of exile would do you good, Your Grace,"she hissed, before standing up straight and announcing roundly, "your ladies will be arriving in three days, and I expect you to treat them with more respect than your poor cousin." Here, Margaret glanced at Catherine, who stood miserably to the side with her face flushed and head down. "You may be Queen Consort, Your Grace, but that does not mean that you may exercise that power by treating your people with little or no respect. I will see you then." She began to leave, most of the servants and pages in the room making to follow her, but just before the door, she turned around briefly.

"And do make sure you tread carefully, Your Grace. Good day." Diana was soon left alone, with only Catherine standing behind her faithfully. As the enraged Queen Consort turned, Catherine said (as well-meaning as possible) "what did she mean by—"
"I DON'T KNOW, DO I?"shrieked Diana, and stumped off without a backwards glance.

"Clearly not,"sighed poor Catherine, and dutifully hurried after her mistress.

Diana's POV

20 August 1520
"Your Highness, Your Grace,"greets Sir Robert, "may I present Lady Marianne and Lady Verity Westover?"
"Westover?"I say impulsively, sitting up, for I had not been paying much attention until now. Sir Robert glances at me, and with much respect, (a little surprise, too) says "yes, Your Grace."

"And these are your daughters?"I inquire, curiosity getting the better of me as always. Margaret shoots me a sharp look, as it seems, does most of the court, but Sir Robert does not appear offended at all. This is very unusual for me, since I was brought up on the fact that Westovers were weak and sickly, while Cavills were deceitful and cheating.
"You must be thinking of Leia Westover, Your Grace,"says one of the girls behind him, at which I promptly examine them both. You see, because I was not paying attention, I did not take the trouble to study the two girls at all.
Verity and Marianne are, annoyingly, on the way to being as pretty as the Westover wench, which Uncle James will certainly not be pleased at. Both have light blonde hair and delicate features, but the similarities definitely end there! One holds herself confidently, with a clear, cheerful smile on her face, her hands clasped and eyes bright.
Naturally, I feel inclined to observe the other, who's eyes seem to have touches of black in them, and who's face betrays no secrets. Strange. I didn't know a Westover could do that; but then, I have met Leia Westover, so why am I surprised?

"Leia is our cousin,"continues the first, who seemed intent on talking, "she came to court not long ago, I think?"
"Yes, she did,"I confirm, tilting me head slightly.
"I am Verity, Your Highness, and this is Marianne. We are so glad to serve Your Highness—"
"You will not be serving me,"says Margaret calmly, "you will serve my dear sister-in-law Her Grace, the Queen Consort."
"Oh,"says Verity, not deigning to hide her disappointment. Stupid Westover! How can this talkative girl be related to Leia? It seems absurd.
I gaze round at Marianne, who seems to want to stay in the shadows, but her eyes are flaring as bright as mine. These two girls are like representations of me when I first came to court! Well, they won't become Queen of England, I will make sure of that.

"It is a great honour to serve you, Your Grace,"says Marianne slowly. It's the first time she's spoken, and I am actually surprised at the richness of her voice. She smiles at me mysteriously, both of us ignoring Verity's chatter with Margaret, and somehow, I can feel that she will be the greatest threat of all.

17 September 1520
The air seemed dangerously quiet in the west corridor. It was dark outside, the curtains firmly pulled closed over the majority of the windows, and only one solitary candle flickered in the darkness.
One hooded figure crept cautiously along the corridor, hands clasped tightly around the candlestick. As they came up to a door, a smart mahogany one with a gilt handle, there echoed the thuds of heavy footsteps from the connecting corridor. The figure flattened themselves against the wall, blowing out their only source of light. After a while, the footsteps died, and a smooth fist emerged from its sleeve to rap against the wood mutely.
The door was opened, revealing a grand bedchamber, and the host inside smiled a sly smile as the guest stepped inside and shut the door behind them.