The Other Henry VIII

Me and You

14 November 1520
"I am an OUTCAST THOMAS!"screeched Diana, kicking over a table as she marched into the little tower room.

"THE WHOLE COURT DESPISES ME! MY CHILDREN ARE TREATED AS BASTARDS WHILE SOPHIA'S SPOILT PRINCESS IS BEING WAITED ON HAND AND FOOT IN WESTHORPE! HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL?"

"Diana, please try and calm down—"began Cromwell, hastily picking up the upturned table.

"HOW CAN I BE CALM? EVEN MY OWN FAMILY AND SUPPORTERS HAVE LOST HOPE IN ME! CATHERINE WON'T EVEN LOOK ME IN THE EYE ANY MORE! SO DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!"

"YOU KNOW THIS MIGHT BE WHY!"shouted back Cromwell, grabbing Diana by the shoulders and shaking her roughly. "YOU HAVE LOST ALL CONTROL OVER YOUR TEMPER! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT PEOPLE HAVE BEEN SAYING BEHIND YOUR BACK? THEY ARE CALLING YOU THE WHORE OF ENGLAND, AND WORSE!"

"I A WHORE? WHEN THE KING TOOK ABOUT FOUR MISTRESSES WHEN I WAS PREGNANT? GOD I HATE MY LIFE! EVEN YOU HATE ME, AND WE HAVE—"

Thomas pressed is hand over her mouth firmly.
"No one can know about us, Diana. You know I love you, but even I can't stand your shouting. Please try to concentrate. There are tongues at court that are not afraid to talk if they hear what we've done."

Diana, sighing, relaxed into Thomas's arms.
"I know."

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

Unknown's POV
I don't know much about my companion. I know his name, but enclosing it may lead to people finding out what we are doing long before satisfaction.

All I am sure of is that his wife has been staying with her niece ever since she tried to leave him; he bears a firm grudge against two important people at court; he is almost wholly infatuated with another high-up person at court, and that he wants justice.

Like me.

I am nearing 30 years old, unmarried and unwanted. After serving 5 years as a prostitute, and baring two bastards, I want justice, just like my companion.

But mine will be harder to get then his.

There is a new Queen now, Diana Westerly. I have heard she is the most beautiful woman in England, much more so than her predecessor. Perhaps after so many years, the courtiers will be different? No, they will still be power-hungry liars. Sadly.

"Are you ready?"asks my companion, pulling on a dark cloak and throwing me one too. I gaze into his handsome face helplessly as we set off.

He doesn't know how much I love him, how much I long to be that woman at court who he adores so much.

I am just a commoner, a whore, worth nothing.

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

Henry's POV

I have had to make England pay for this war.

At least it's not with France again—that would be even more agitating. The Scots aren't quite so bad, I'd say, but all the same...

Did we need this war so much?

Nah, of course we did. Why should the Scots try and ruin the peace on this island?

On the rickety table before me sits the creased, ripped-out page of Sophia's diary entry the day before she died. It's one of the last things I have of hers. The curls of her beautiful writing is so familiar to me, I could almost perfectly imitate it. I shall take it with me to war, to remind me that I still fight for my love even when God took her and George away from me.

Charles Brandon sticks his head through the gap in the tent.
"The men are nearly ready, Your Majesty."

I nod curtly, letting him go, before returning to Sophia's entry again.

Maybe now, before battle, I should write a reply? Sounds like a good plan, I suppose. Part of me is hoping that we will be reunited soon, but for now...

My heavy armour is annoyingly restrictive, but I still manage to finish inking a short answer before tucking both papers in my breastplate and heading out to ready the men.

May God have mercy on the Scots, because my army certainly won't.

Sophia

I'm here now, a thousand miles away from where you lie peacefully in the cold earth at Windsor. I've been a mess since you've gone, pieces of who I used to be. I've tried so hard to live happily without you, but have lost more than I started with in doing so. If I could see your face just one more time, I know I would be a better man, a better King. I'm lost without you to guide me. Without you, I can never be whole again.

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

"You, my love, could be King one day,"whispered Margaret, cradling her son gently.

The bright-eyed baby gazed back up at her, giggling. Margaret sighed; she missed John terribly now that he was off to war.

"I wonder what your father is doing, Henry,"she said thoughtfully. It didn't help that the baby's eyes were as bright green as his father's.

Margaret didn't know why, but it felt so comforting to known that she was being listened to, even if it was a baby.

"Since you are my brother's only male heir, I think I will ask him to give you some land and a title."
Baby Henry stared back at her silently.

"You're right! I can, since I am Queen Regent. You, my little Prince, shall be Duke of Warwick when you are old enough."
Her son gazed back at her sleepily, making Margaret smile.

Who knew? Perhaps her own little Henry would be King of England one day.

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

Verity Westover's POV
The rain is beating down sternly on the palace. I hate it. God is punishing us for our sins like we are not the most important people in the country.

I really don't like rain.
I don't like Diana Westerly much either.

She's known as a whore now, especially from what she did at court before she was married. Ugh.

I don't think much of her only other lady, Catherine Starling, either. The Starling family is plotting something, I can feel it.

Not that our own family isn't, of course. That's obvious.

I can hear some bustle downstairs by the door, anyway, as I slowly walk downstairs to fetch Diana Westerly's sable, which she 'forgot' downstairs. Suddenly, a maid hurries up the stairs towards me, face red and shiny.

"My lady,"she says quickly, bobbing a curtsy, "there is a gentleman at the door. He demanded to speak with someone of importance, my lady."

"Don't worry, Dorothy. I'll deal with it. But would you mind awfully if you go and fetch Her Grace's sable from the library? I was sent down to get it."

"Of course, My Lady."

I march down the stairs, holding my head up to address this unknown gentleman, and carefully open the large front door. Two figures stand before me, a man and a woman I think. The man (who is painfully tall and bulky) steps towards me.

"At last, someone high up. Why don't you go and announce us to Her Majesty?"he demands rather rudely.

"Of course. What are your names?"I reply, keeping my voice level.

"Lord Bradley and Mistress Anna Talbot here to see Her Grace Lady Diana Westerly and Lady Louisa Bradley."