Anne Boleyn (
happyfalcon) wrote2015-05-20 12:19 am
[For Thomas] Surprising Developments
It had been some weeks since Anne had spent the afternoon composing poetry with Mark and Thomas. But in that short amount of time, so much had happened that Anne could hardly believe that it was all real, that none of it was a dream...
Thomas finished the poem soon enough and one evening Anne had stood beside his sister Margaret, with Mark playing the violin beside them both, and sang for the court. It was beautiful, and the sight of Thomas, so happy and overjoyed, it had been overwhelming for Anne. She had longed to go to him that evening but it was not to be. Her father had taken her from the crowds in the hall and took her down to the catacombs. There George had brought a fine white gown which she had been commanded to change into.
For she was to marry the King that very night.
Anne had tried to protest but her father had forced her. George kept their father's rage in check as best he could, and under his breath advised his sister that she had best forget her secret lover and do as their father commanded. With no escape possible, Anne submitted, and married Henry VIII.
In the time after their wedding, Anne's headaches had grown worse. Mornings were the worst, and often she could not rouse herself from bed without first throwing up into her chamber pot. To make matters worse, her belly had begun to swell and her bleeding had stopped. Anne was horrified - she was pregnant, and she knew precisely who the father was.
Thomas Wyatt.
She had not been herself the past few days since she had figured out her condition. Anne still attended court and the festivities that evening brought. But one night she could contain it no longer. After a long night of refusing wine and avoiding the smells from the food table, Anne grabbed Mary by the hand and led her back to a more private chamber, unaware of any who might see them and follow after them.
She had to tell someone, and she couldn't bear to tell Thomas, not yet.
Thomas finished the poem soon enough and one evening Anne had stood beside his sister Margaret, with Mark playing the violin beside them both, and sang for the court. It was beautiful, and the sight of Thomas, so happy and overjoyed, it had been overwhelming for Anne. She had longed to go to him that evening but it was not to be. Her father had taken her from the crowds in the hall and took her down to the catacombs. There George had brought a fine white gown which she had been commanded to change into.
For she was to marry the King that very night.
Anne had tried to protest but her father had forced her. George kept their father's rage in check as best he could, and under his breath advised his sister that she had best forget her secret lover and do as their father commanded. With no escape possible, Anne submitted, and married Henry VIII.
In the time after their wedding, Anne's headaches had grown worse. Mornings were the worst, and often she could not rouse herself from bed without first throwing up into her chamber pot. To make matters worse, her belly had begun to swell and her bleeding had stopped. Anne was horrified - she was pregnant, and she knew precisely who the father was.
Thomas Wyatt.
She had not been herself the past few days since she had figured out her condition. Anne still attended court and the festivities that evening brought. But one night she could contain it no longer. After a long night of refusing wine and avoiding the smells from the food table, Anne grabbed Mary by the hand and led her back to a more private chamber, unaware of any who might see them and follow after them.
She had to tell someone, and she couldn't bear to tell Thomas, not yet.

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Unwilling to let her go, Wyatt took her hands in his. "Don't turn away from me. Don't lose hope. We both promised to listen and to talk things through."
He led her across the room to the chair in front of the fireplace. He sat down and pulled her to sit sideways on his lap.
"Now, what do you want? What were your plans before I found out?"
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"Truth of the matter is...I had none," she replied. "I knew only that I had to tell you, thus when Mary said not to tell you...I couldn't even think on it."
Anne leaned into him, resting her head against the crook of his shoulder. His scent comforted her. "I want to be happy; I want to be safe; I want to be the mother of your child..." these were all the things she wanted. Just as he had asked. But she didn't know how to accomplish all these things. If they even could.
"I don't want to be Queen..." jewels, fame, fortune - none of that mattered. Not to her.
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"I'm glad you were going to tell me. I deserved to know, even if Mary thought otherwise. She had a point, though. Everyone would believe the baby is Henry's." There was some irony in that statement. Rumours circulated at court that Henry, not William Carey, was the father of Mary's children.
Wyatt placed his hand over the pointy end of Anne's bodice that covered her belly. "You can hide it from most of us for weeks but you can't hide it from Henry for long."
So what could they do? "If we flee England... we'll be in the mercy of other people's goodwill. But if Henry wants you back with offers of a reward for your return, that goodwill hard to come by."
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"I know...I know you're right. We might find some place where Henry is disliked - those places are not so few. But still, it would be difficult..." and she wasn't sure she could force a newborn infant to endure life like that. Because of her. "If we stay in England, I will have to do as Mary said. The King must think the child is his. Then there's after the baby's born to consider..."
Anne wasn't blind, she saw how Thomas reacted to seeing her with the King. She tipped her head to catch his gaze. "Can you live with that? Seeing not only me with the King, but seeing him raise our child every day?"
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Wyatt tilted his head to kiss Anne's forehead. "Should I have to choose between not being able to see my child at all or seeing him here with you and Henry, I'd choose the latter." He knew it would be very suspicious for him to visit this child in a country manor out of London.
"I would endure it if it meant seeing him grow up." Wyatt sighed and shook his head. "Can you believe it? If we stay here, my child could one day become the king of England. Or the queen. I'm not sure I'd want such burden for them."
((ooc: The first sentence of my previous tag should have ended: Not exactly easy, but more so than with her now married.
I shouldn't be writing tags so late at night.))
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Anne smiled softly as his lips brushed over her forehead. She chuckled softly at his musing over their baby being the next ruler of England. Her fingers rubbed over her lower belly. She felt so much better now that Thomas knew. She wasn't aline anymore.
They'd get through this together.
"Perhaps I could arrange it so that you could teach him," she offered. Anne figured it would be a way for Thomas to see and spend time with their child daily without arousing suspicion. "How to read and write and about literature - if you like?"
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"I don't like this. Why can't I see a solution that is a good one?" He didn't want his child to live in poverty in exile, but nor did he want Anne to continue a life with Henry.
Wyatt forced a smile on his face, though. "Yes. I could teach him perhaps." It would be diffcult but he'd have a chance to instill good values on the child. As he considered that, Wyatt realized something important.
"I wish it's a girl. A beautiful baby girl. It's not what Henry wants and he would lament about it but he he would also be less strict about the upbringing."
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But damn God and all the saints - Anne would be with Thomas Wyatt.
She considered his wish for a long moment, weighing the option in her head. It would bring hardship upon her and ridicule from her father if she did not produce a son. But Thomas was right. A daughter would be unnoticed, even ignored, by the King, and it would be easier for her to sneak a daughter away for mother-daughter time. Time that they could share with Thomas.
"I agree," her fingers rolled over her belly. "I too wish to have a daughter - our daughter."
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"Is that it, then? Is our decision to stay in London and not run away? To have our child be raised as Henry's?"
Wyatt sighed. "I know you don't want to stay. I know and yet here I am asking you something that I have no right to ask... Can you forgive me for not wanting to leave England? God knows I love you above all things and I ought to put your wants before mine. I'm ashamed of myself, truly."
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But she soon nodded with a somber light in her eyes. "Yes, my love. I think it's best if we stay. It will not be easy, but we shall manage all the same." Just as they had before.
Anne smiled again and gently brought a hand to his cheek. "There's nothing to forgive, Thomas. We're not just doing this for us, this is for our child as well, as you said."
She so badly wanted to be a good mother for his child. For their daughter.
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Then he loosened his grip and concentrated placing small kisses along the side of her face. "We were so worried you would get pregnant and now that you are... I'm almost excited. I don't like the idea of our child not knowing who her real father is but maybe one day it is no longer necessary to keep it a secret. Your Mary, I know she can understand how important that is."
Wyatt looked into Anne's eyes, and then her mouth until he couldn't stop himself from kissing her propery.
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"I know...it's so strange. I was so afraid..." and only moments ago. "I was so afraid to tell you...but I knew I had to. If I had kept this from you...it would've been so wrong."
She looked back into his eyes. For a long moment she just stared before she leaned in and brushed her lips over his.
"I can't wait to bring your child into the world," she smiled. "We will find a way, some way to get around this obstacle. Our child will be happy, and loved - that is what matters most, does it not?"
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His hand crept up Anne's bodice and stopped at the soft bare skin rising above the neckline. Since she was sitting on his lap, her bosom was right there for him to admire. Wyatt flashed a smile before tipping his head to kiss that area.
He looked quite somber afterwards and pursed his lips before uttering, "I would like to cuddle with you but that would be treason."
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Not Wyatt's.
She sighed softly as he kissed her neckline. Her fingers reached up to card through his hair, loving the feeling of his curls beneath her fingers. His words though were heavy with truth. "Treason, yes - if only, my love..." for she would love to lay with him again, just to feel his arms around her, his hand over her belly, over their baby.
"We shouldn't linger here," she advised sadly. Mary had given her advice, and she knew Henry would come calling soon.
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Once standing up again, he took hold of Anne's hands. "I'm afraid Henry might be inclined to send me overseas on other missions if there is need. If that happens, and if I must leave suddenly and without a word, do not worry. I will come back to you as soon as I can. Always."
It was more difficult than ever to arrange secret meetings with her now. Indeed it was a miracle they had managed this one.
"I will keep writing poems. When you hear them recited or see them written down, they are my messages to you."
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Anne couldn't help smiling, remembering the times they had spent together.
"I shall cherish your poetry, now more than ever," Anne kissed his fingertips. "Always."
Just as they had said before.
"Be careful abroad, my love," silently her eyes conveyed the message her lips dared not. Please, be back when the baby comes.
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Wyatt sighed as Anne kissed his ink-stained fingers. "You are worth it."
He pulled her into a tight embrace and rocked their bodies gently. Life at court would be extremely difficult for him from now on. Thank God for the baby, though. Wyatt could at least look forward to the day when his child was born.
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Letting him go for the night was the hardest thing in the world. But eventually she had to accept it, and with one last kiss she let him go for the night.
***
Anne sometimes wondered if Henry knew of her affair with Thomas, for he seemed to send the poet off on diplomatic missions more often than usual after her pregnancy was officially declared. After nine months Anne went into labor, and soon her screams echoed through the halls.
Of course only the best midwife in the whole country attended the Queen of England. Maids scurried in and out of the bedroom, carrying soiled linens with them. Two of Anne's ladies remained with her, holding her hands, wiping her brow, trying to soothe her. But damned if this pain wasn't the worst Anne had ever experienced! It was like every breath took all of her strength to take.
But it truly took all of her strength not to scream out for Thomas. So badly she wanted him near. She wished it was his hands that comforted her, not the maids'. Her breaths came heavily, shakily.
She was told that the King was already announcing that the baby was a boy, and was planning great jousts and celebrations to welcome the prince into the world.
All the while, Anne still prayed and wished for a girl.
Finally, after what felt like eternity, the baby came forth. Anne had to hide her joy as the maids announced that she'd given birth to a girl.
She'd given birth to Thomas Wyatt's daughter.
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The stars be hid that led me to this pain;
Drowned is reason that should me comfort,
And I remain despairing of the port.
His poems, like those of other eager and aspiring writers, circulated the court. They were copied and recited even he wasn't around to hear them. He was confident that Anne came across them one way or another. Sometimes the lines were too suggestive and earned him sideway glances from Henry or George but he was always quick to defend himself against accusations of desiring the queen in more than a chivalric way.
My faithful lute
Alone shall hear me plain,
For else all other suit
Is clean in vain.
He certainly didn't want to put her in danger.
The months dragged on. Each time Wyatt returned from his travels, Anne's belly had grown rounder. The whole court waited anxiously and ready to laugh and roar at the birth of a prince, but when the news of a baby girl were out, the party turned quiet. Princess Mary and ambassador Chapuys scarcely refrained their spiteful joy. And Wyatt, he hid his relief behind glasses of wine.
His instinct was to go to Anne immediately but he had no reason to ask a permission. Only family could see her. No one knew he was more family than anyone else. But no, he could not wait so off he went to George. Please, he begged - and his drunken friend gave in.
When the day was coming to an end, Wyatt finally found himself standing by Anne's bed. Sadly, they could not be alone, for George was chaperoning the meeting, but at least he was able to see his newborn child.
"Congratulations, my lady and forgive my eagerness to see your daughter."
((OOC: the first snippet is from a poem that starts 'My galley charged with forgetfulness'. Sonnet 14 here: http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/wyatt.php?section=11
The second one is poem nr. 4 here: http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/wyatt.php?section=9 ))
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But in that precious little time with her daughter, Anne whispered Wyatt's carefully penned words in the baby's ear. That she might share that connection to her true father even if she didn't know it yet.
Anne was surprised when her brother was announced, and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling when Thomas was announced along with him. George, cup of wine in hand, plopped into a chair and made playful faces at Anne. She just rolled her eyes and smiled politely at Thomas as she rocked the sleeping baby in her arms.
"No need for apologies, Master Wyatt, I'm happy to have such a fine and esteemed poet as yourself come to see my precious girl," Anne smiled, holding her baby up a bit so that he could see her little face. "You would honor me if you might write something of her - should you find the time, that is."
Anne couldn't help kissing the top of her newborn's little head. She glanced up to Thomas, then to George, then back to Thomas. "If you swear to take great care, would you like to hold her, Master Wyatt?"
George, as Anne predicted, gave a little growl of discontent, which Anne killed with a sharp glare. "Don't be so glum, brother! This is a happy occasion and Sir Thomas is an old friend - would you not let him hold your son if you had any?"
George gave a sharp remark under his breath, but otherwise waved her off and drank of his wine. Anne glanced to Thomas, having crushed her brother's suspicion, at least this time, and curious of his response.
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"Why of course, if you would like a poem, it would be my pleasure to write one." Her offer to hold the baby was met with a grateful smile.
"You can be sure I will hold her as if she were my own flesh and blood." Wyatt's hands shook a little as he took the baby in his arms. He couldn't smile anymore. Instead, he drew in a deep breath and pressed the bundle against his chest, simply staring at the child.
"She is beautiful. My poems could never do her justice."
Wyatt found himself fighting for tears. Lovingly he kissed the baby's head, just like Anne had done and leaned down to give her back to Anne. With his back turned to George, there was no fear of his expression being seen by anyone else but her.
Neither did George see how Wyatt quickly pulled out a folded piece of paper from his sleeve and hid it into the baby's swaddling cloths. He had already written a poem along with a heartfelt note to Anne.
"Have you discussed names with the King?"
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She took the baby back in her arms, her eyes flashing as she spied the paper being slipped into her swaddling clothes. Anne couldn't stop smiling.
"No other poet is fit to even attempt to pay tribute to her with the art," Anne praised him. "You're the best of our age, and everyone knows it."
She glanced down as the baby fussed again. Anne reached down to brush her fingers over the baby's chubby little cheek.
"We've discussed naming her Elizabeth," Anne glanced up, clearly asking his opinion with her eyes as she could not with her words without rousing suspicion.
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"You're too kind, my lady, but what's an idle courtier to do with his time if not practise with words? It is all for good cause."
"You should be more careful with those words," George stated and came to stand at the other side of the bed. Wyatt ignored that comment but nodded his approval of the name.
"Elizabeth? Ah, for your mother... and his. Aye, it is a fine name. Little Bess," he said softly. "I truly appreaciate you letting me visit but perhaps I ought to let you both rest now."
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The baby made a soft cooing sound at 'Little Bess' - but Anne didn't like the nickname one bit and pouted her lips. When she settled in her swaddling clothes again, Anne tucked the baby near the warmth of her chest before glancing up to Thomas. There was a light in her eyes that showed a combination of sadness and regret.
She didn't want him to go. This was their child, she wanted to share in this moment with him. But that was not to be their fate.
"Indeed - forgive me for saying so, Sir Thomas, but bringing a child into the world is exhausting work indeed," Anne forced a smile, fighting off the glassiness in her eyes.
She didn't want to cry, not in front of George.
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Just as soon as the door was closed, Wyatt sat on the edge of the bed and reached for Anne's chin. He gave her a hasty kiss and then stroked the baby's head.
"That was a godsent but I don't think we have much time. How are you holding on?"
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