Whilst contemplating for over a few weeks now, on what to post on my blog, I decided to take a look at my much older documents...somewhere hidden in my computer files. Luckily, I found this darn old thing.
A fan fiction.
Yes, you heard me...a fan fiction for Anne Boleyn. I mean can you blame me? Who wouldn't want to write a story, in which THEY control. Anyhow, I'll give you a sample for now...just keep in mind this is a fan fiction not everything I write is true, and some are even fictional (take my main character for instance).
Alright goodbye for now faithful readers :)
***
I march abruptly down the stables, as
Caroline trots, wailing angrily. “Where are you going now?!” I turn upon her
viciously, while my painted lips fixate into a distasteful smirk. “To Hever, I
must retire with the Boleyn’s. I think it is best that I rest, you have given
me quite a headache dear sister”
“Blanche, you will displease father most gratefully.
We distrust that plotting, ambitious family most! Now stay here like a good
daughter and obey Mistress Shelton!”
“In God’s name, neither man nor women
commands me! I fare thee well”
“Blanche! You shall shame are families
name! Our blood! What shall the Londoners think of a disobedient daughter, heir
to the greatest title of England?!”
“They shall think not sister! For they will
keep their tongues still, and speak nothing against me! Now good Lord William,
I beg of you to bring me my horse” as the frightened man turns to obey I turn
to cast my sister one last burning look of anger before saddling high upon my
stead and whipping quickly throughout the cold airs. Caroline of course, clutches her throbbing
temples and shouts such curses that even the men of the house wince. She knows
well though, that these simple words have no effect on me, and so she yells for
our mother. But I am already gone.
I have already left.
***
The squire receives me rapidly, helping me
down with his clammy hands and upon the household. I have already walked with
his guidance to the gardens, where to my greatest delight I see a hair made of
raven curls peak through the bushes. “Milady, must you need anything more?” the
boy inquires.
“Nay, Adieu my good man”
As soon as I excuse him from his services,
I return to peak at the family sight. Anne, graceful as ever has been adorned
with a rich cloth of blood red, emphasizing her exotic colour. With her dancing
eyes, looking to heart struck another eligible suitor. We all presume, it must
be the acclaimed poet, Thomas Wyatt. But Anne was always the unpredictable,
wherefore you can never be sure.
Mary, the “traditional” beauty, has been plaiting
her golden hair. She, unlike her dark sister, has decided to wear a pretty
yellow, which matches her pale complexion. Her cheeks have been pinched, giving
her an innocent pink that blends well with her bright blue eyes. She is
bejeweled with rubies, and gold that can be surely a sign that the lusting king
is in her favor. Mayhap her many admirers, but highly unlikely.
George,
the handsome proud George has been wearing his usual grin. An infamous smile,
known to fluster girls and even wives. I
have never fallen under his enchantment though; I cannot love him for I regard
him as my brother, a loving sibling. And such thoughts would cause a wicked of
disturbance.
I stroll quietly upon their laughing sides,
before Mary screams in recognition and embraces me tightly. “Blanche! My god
you are as quiet as the wind! How do you fair?”
“Fine” I huff before settling down. Anne
and George smile delightfully as they indulge me into the latest court gossip.
“King Henry, has planned to name his bastard, a duke”
I can only hardly stifle a laugh. “Does he
plan to make him his heir as well?”
Mary gives a little shrug before piping;
“His grace is a good lord, a good man. If it is his will, we should learn to
obey”
“Mary, we are not offending, King Henry”
Anne snaps. “My god you have gotten so protective, after he flourished you with
gifts!”
“My god is this true!? When had this
happened? Where? Please do tell!”
George beams as he snakes an arm around my
waist. “This court festival, our pretty sister danced into his eyes, it seem he
was…well how can you say it…captured”
He roars a quick approval, earning him a
sharp slap across his arms. “Must you?” I tease, all in whilst Anne slams close
her novel. She plasters a firm smile, her eyes darting dangerously. “Yes, we
are all so proud”
But to no suppress, I know the real meaning
behind her icy words. For now Mary shall be the beloved of the King. She shall
hold the grand title; “Royal Mistress” yet when the king tires, he will replace
her with another. Her marriage market will lose its customers, and in custom
his highness shall wed her off to a baron, perhaps even a soldier.
So for the better, we close the topic,
before entering a new.
“What bout you Blanche? You are nearly
sixteen are you not? I presume your father has been arranging suitable matches”
“Tis true” I sigh. “They expect a
profitable marriage; some names have flown by, including the aging duke,
Richard”
At this, Mary shrieks ghastly. “That old lord? He is almost fifty!”
At this, Mary shrieks ghastly. “That old lord? He is almost fifty!”
“How sad; it seems you will be more a nurse
than a wife to him” Anne snorts as I hang my head. “Indeed, but I shall be left
a wealthy widow, much to my parents delight. But please, do not freight dear
friends these are just simple rumors”
“Blanche, are you blind to see the truth?
He is old, and a pretty wife will do him well. Perhaps even please him” The
three glance at me pitifully as I widen my jaw in protest. “For god’s sake,
these are just suggestions! You speak as if I am already his bride!”
“Please forgive us; we must have lost our
tongues”
“You are forgiven, but please let us allow
these private matters to my parent’s hands”
