Anne Boleyn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
happyfalcon) wrote2014-04-12 02:15 pm
happyfalcon) wrote2014-04-12 02:15 pm
Entry tags:
Prompt: Masquerade
((ooc: As always, free for anyone to tag, just beware the historical inaccuracies!))
Few things made Anne happier than dressing up. A masquerade ball at her family's castle at Hever before All Hallow's Eve was just what she had needed. Mary and her mother came from France to join the festivities, and George was finishing his own outfit in his room. Anne herself had prepared a fine blue gown and a nicer mask to match. She pinned some of her dark hair back and let it fall in waves down her back.
After she tied the mask behind her head, donned the dress and proper jewels, Anne made her way downstairs. Only a few guests had arrived, all clad in masks and laughing gaily. Anne recognized a few voices, and of course she recognized the goofy gait and teasing of her brother George. But others she didn't recognize.
Still, she enjoyed the atmosphere.
Few things made Anne happier than dressing up. A masquerade ball at her family's castle at Hever before All Hallow's Eve was just what she had needed. Mary and her mother came from France to join the festivities, and George was finishing his own outfit in his room. Anne herself had prepared a fine blue gown and a nicer mask to match. She pinned some of her dark hair back and let it fall in waves down her back.
After she tied the mask behind her head, donned the dress and proper jewels, Anne made her way downstairs. Only a few guests had arrived, all clad in masks and laughing gaily. Anne recognized a few voices, and of course she recognized the goofy gait and teasing of her brother George. But others she didn't recognize.
Still, she enjoyed the atmosphere.
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Breathing hot and heavy, Wyatt kept kissing Anne's throat. His tongue trailed across that smooth skin until it reached the corner of her mouth, then inside it. He clutched his hand over her breast.
Breaking the kiss for a moment to catch breath, Wyatt glanced at Anne, his eyes dark and half-lid. Though she had her legs wrapped around him, he managed to lift his hips slightly, with the help of his knees pushing on the grass (and partly on the back of her dress), so that he could slide a hand between them, between her legs.
He didn't hesitate - God it was too late for that now. Reaching down enough, his middle finger sank inside of her. Wyatt kep his eyes on Anne, just to be sure her face didn't indicate any objection. Not that he thought it would but... he'd stop if that was the case. He swallowed and stroked her a few times, in hazy awe of how she felt.
But he was an impatient man now, more so than he wanted to admit. Hard already from her doing, he didn't need to do much else than guide his cock to where his hand had just been. Impatiently, yes, and hard, Wyatt drove his hips against her. He gasped and thrusted again, and again. Then his motions became softer, as did the expression on his face.
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Her hips rocked up and down, wanting his digit in deeper. Each stroke of his finger coaxed a new moan and sigh from her. She should be quiet, lest they be discovered, but at such a time as this, she didn't care. Anne was far too consumed by the sparks of pleasure that ran through her with each of his movements.
She gave a greedy whine when his finger left her but soon her hand flew to her mouth to quiet her gasp. Her walls clamped tight around his cock the second he entered. Anne moaned with each thrust, feeling complete again as her hips rocked to match his pace.
There was not even the faintest hint of displeasure on her face, only the softest blush sparked of the heat between them and her coyest smile for which she was so well known. As his thrusts softened, Anne couldn't stop herself from moaning his name.
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"You... feel... amazing. Like I rememb-." Wyatt swallowed the rest of the sentence, eyes falling shut, head nodding down. He brushed their noses together, smoothed some curls by the side of her head.
With eyes closed, Wyatt's hearing was more focused and Anne's satisfied moans soon had him moving faster, rougher, with hasty heat--
"Shh!" Wyatt clamped a hand over her mouth, freezing still. Somebody was laughing. The voice was some distance away but it was still potentially dangerous to them.
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Fear gripped her for a moment, thinking of what would happen if they were discovered. She didn't necessarily fear for herself, it was Thomas she feared for. God forbid it was her brother with a woman, he often did the same things Anne did. They thought alike, which explained why they both got along and butted heads at the worst of times.
Anne subconsciously wrapped her arms around Thomas' middle. Somehow, holding him felt more secure - that he was safe in her arms and she was just as safe in his. As if, by holding him this way, she could protect him, even if she wasn't certain that she could.
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There was some rustling in the trees but all human voices seemed have faded into darkness. He looked back at Anne, slowly removing his hand away from her mouth.
"I apologize. I didn't hurt you, did I?" he whispered and stroked her cheek gently. "I think they're gone, whoever they were."
Her hands around him felt good; Wyatt lowered himself down, to lie heavy on top of her and to bury his face in her hair spread all around her. The interruption had certainly taken a toll on his arousal. He probably could have done something about it but he much rather took advantage of her less intimate but more meaningful embrace that she granted him at the moment.
"You belong to me, Anne." He wasn't really sure why he said that.
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Her eyes glinted mischievously at that last comment. She gave a soft chuckle.
"Do I? And just what makes you say that, Thomas?" Anne countered. Not that she was really about to argue. No, she knew better.
Of course her heart belonged to him. She knew this. And with all her heart and soul she wished that their situation was different. Was it so wrong that she wanted to be with him? To be able to hold him at their leisure instead of sneaking about. Though, to a degree, she did enjoy the forbidden nature of it all.
But so much fear clouded the pleasure this way.
"If anyone belongs to anyone, I would say it is you who belongs to me," Anne teased. "For how could a man keep a falcon caged?"
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But they had never been able to be together in public, not in any way that mattered. Wyatt had visited Hever openly but moments with Anne alone were always in secret.
Why were they never given a proper chance? The answer to that was Thomas Boleyn. He was a force that stood in Wyatt's way more than anyone else, even the King or the Pope himself (for not granting him the divorce). It was such an irony that her father was also his namesake.
Wyatt stretched out to the side, his hand slung protectively over her chest. While chuckling at her comment, inside he felt a bit sad.
"I gladly belong to you, my love," he said and took her hand to kiss it. "Always. I'd never keep you caged."
With a sigh he added, "We should get going. Your father will be looking for you soon." Hopefully he hadn't already.
((OOC: Do we want to assume they knew each other as children? Hever and Allington Castle, where Wyatt lived, are about 20 miles from each other and their fathers were friends. I would be fine with that but if it's not at all what you like, I'm also fine with them meeting only after she comes back from France.
By the way, Elizabeth's (Wyatt's wife) mother's mother was a sister to Anne's father's father. But I guess everyone was related in some way :) ))
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"You and that 'always' again," Anne maneuvered a bit to bring her hands up to frame his face. Her fingers trailing along the edges of his hair. "How can you know what the future will bring? That you would be content to call yourself mine forever more?"
Anne's thumb brushed against his cheek. Sadness filled her at the thought of leaving, at not being able to share this closeness anymore.
"You're right, of course," Anne sighed, leaning up to brush her lips softly against his.
But when she pulled away she had to pause again, looking into his eyes, unable keep her charade up any longer. "What happens now, Thomas?" Her tone almost begged him for the answer.
It was unfair, she considered herself a God-fearing woman, a good woman. So why was she cursed so, that she could not he with the man she wanted? The man she loved.
((ooc: Sounds good to me! It makes sense, at any rate. And that's just crazy! XD I'll say they must have been!!))
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It hurt him that she wasn't willing to make the same promise. He understood why she wasn't but it made things no easier to bear. They both knew that at moments like these, they spoke of dreams that would never see daylight.
Her question, however, did give him hope. He honestly hadn't expected it and his expression must have shown it. She wouldn't ask what was going to happen if she didn't want something to happen. Wyatt paused to think, tying up his trousers in the meantime and sitting up. He reached for her bodice, tossed aside in their heat, and handed it over, giving a nervous laughter.
"God, I don't know if I'm able to get you laced up properly in this darkness. And your hair..." He brought up a hand to push a curl behind her ear.
But back to her question. Wyatt licked his lips. Actually he didn't need any time to decide. "I still want to see you. Can I still see you?"
((ooc: I proofread twice and yet there's always some mistake after I click Reply...))
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"I simply...do not want you to be disappointed. And I fear you will be with me," it was a rare admittence of weakness. One she would never admit to anyone - but she knew with Thomas, she was safe. It was all right to express her real thoughts rather than tailor them and sweeten them falsely.
She reached for her bodice and held it up to her chest. Anne chuckled a bit at his words. She reached behind, recalling the movements of her maids in lacing it up, but she only managed to get it partway up. As he reached to push her hair, Anne leaned her cheek into his touch, seeking comfort in it.
How could she answer that? She wanted to scream 'yes' at the top of her lungs, throw her arms around him and have the matter settled. But things were not so simple. She did not want to see him suffer, and did not want to suffer herself.
Her dark gaze glanced up, light catching her eyes as she looked to him.
"How?" Anne's tone was a bit more desperate than she would have liked. If he had some idea, any idea how they could continue to see each other, Anne would gladly agree.
((ooc: Oh, my autocorrect will be the death of me yet!!))
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His hand slid from her cheek to her neck, to hold her in place while his brain searched for the answer to 'how?' How indeed? Fingers unconsciously massaging her warm skin, he wondered if it was better to simply let things go. Prolonging their agony wasn't very wise.
But as he found himself crawling on his knees to move behind Anne to help her get dressed, his mouth was wording the opposite. "We'll think of something," he said and kissed below her shoulders before getting hold of the lacings. "Maybe... I could ask for another chamber, closer to yours. Now that I'm in Cromwell's good graces, perhaps I'll be allowed a room in a better part of the castle. I'd have to be discreet in asking and there's no guarantee-- done."
He had managed to tie her up but, "You better find a maid to fix that before you show yourself to everyone else." Hopefully there weren't any grass stains in her dress.
Wyatt grabbed his doublet, got up and offered his hand to pull her up, as well.
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"How can you say such a thing? How can I not fret over your feelings?" It was a strange thing to her, that he of all people was telling her not to consider his feelings. But, then again, with how she had treated him, how cruel she'd had to be, it wasn't all that surprising. "I can only think of you and your feelings Thomas, I-"
No, don't say it. She couldn't afford to say it; to admit it aloud made it gospel and could not be denied after. But Anne could not fight the will of her heart. For all her fine acting, she could only keep it up for a limited time, it seemed.
As he kissed her skin and tied the laces of her dress, Anne pulled her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of his way. The movement of his fingers soothed her, and when he finished it actually startled her a bit.
She pondered his words - getting a closer chamber would only address a symptom of their dilemma. It would be a temporary solution but thet would still be stuck in the long run. What would happen when and if Henry got his divorce? What if her father grew too fed up with her giving Henry the run-around?
At this point, she felt trapped.
"Thomas..." Anne reached up and grasped his hand to stand up. Once she stood before him, she couldn't help but lean forward, her forehead pressed to his chest. "...I love you."
God in heaven, help her, for she could not help herself.
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Women. They were fickle, turning with the wind. Wyatt knew what Anne wished him to reply now but he was unable to say it. Instead, he hummed in disbelief and voiced his concern about her admission.
"But not always?" There was a hint of lightness in his voice, to curb the sadness. Though he knew her to be astute enough to catch the latter tone as well as the former.
"Alas, I cannot give you what you desire. Or need." A chamber near her would be a temporary solution. He was married, maybe forever. If they, heaven forbid, just left London and everything else behind, he couldn't afford the life she was accustomed to.
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So Anne moved away from him, combing her fingers through her waves of dark hair to smooth it out again and tame it.
"Yes, always. A woman may say always as much as she pleases - men are easily swayed by promises of gold and glory," Anne glanced up to him again. "Women are not so easily swayed. Gold and glory are valuable, but there are better things."
Her tone was not harsh, but it was indeed stern. It did not reflect the lightness in his own.
"So tell me, Thomas: I know what I desire and what I need - but what is it you think I desire and need?"
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Yet he had to roll his eyes for the claim that women were more steadfast than men. Wyatt didn't have respect of all the men in the world but he wanted to put a good word for some of them. "The best of men seek gold and glory for the sake of their ladies, not for themselves."
That question of hers? If it had not been directed at him, Wyatt would have commended Anne for it. She was smart, and direct. She wasn't afraid to put him on the spot for something he'd said. Now, he was forced to think quickly for something that sounded less like polite nonsense and more like proof that he knew her mind. In reality he didn't know.
"You desire to be loved by someone who is yours and yours alone. And you need... a life without worries, financial or otherwise."
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"And yet, more often than not, more men seek it for themselves," There was a bitterness in her tone - not necessarily directed at him, or at least it hadn't been her intention. Her brother and father were proof enough of that fact.
Thomas Boleyn could claim until judgment day that he had pushed Mary and Anne to pursue the king because he would have made a fine husband for them; the finest, even. Mary may have fallen for such talk, but Anne knew better. Their father was out for himself, to raise his own wealth and status.
Even if that meant turning his daughters into whores.
"Not completely incorrect," Anne replied to his answer. "But you've mixed them up a bit. Life is not without worry, Thomas. Surely you of all people should know better than that. Elsewise it would not be called life. It is not life without worry that I need."
She paused, contemplating whether she should actually give him the answer. After a moment, she decided against it, bending down to retrieve her mask before standing up again.
"But it matters not," Anne glanced to him again - she tried to lock her emotions away as she had a thousand other times. There was no anger nor sorrow on her face, though she knew this would not remain so for very long. "You're quite right, Sir Thomas, I should be getting back before I'm missed."
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There were hardly any places where women could express their mind. Apparently not even at their own homes: his wife had not managed to voice her grievances. She had merely withdrawn herself from him.
"I wasn't talking about what life is. I was talking about what it should be. Without worry. I'm surprised you don't share that thought."
He pulled a long face for to be called 'Sir Thomas'. This couldn't- why?- no!No! This couldn't end so badly. Not again. Wyatt grabbed Anne's wrist.
"Anne! No. Do not do this to me again. If you do, I'll swear-" He let go of her just as quickly and lowered his voice. "It'll be the end. Is that what you really want?"
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For there were some women fortunate enough that their fathers legitimately did care for their happiness and tried to do what they could to help them achieve it. Thomas Boleyn was not such a father.
When he grabbed her she did give a little yelp - not of pain, he hadn't hurt her; merely of surprise. She hadn't expected him to do that. For a moment she just stared hard at him, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate.
"...The end of what Thomas? How can something end that never really began in the first place?" Anne countered. But she didn't answer his question - a verbal plan she had done on purpose.
She would not answer that question, because her answer would have been that she really would rather die than be without him. Even if he wasn't hers, even if he could never truly be...
"What is the point in discussing things being anything other than what they are? You speak of life as it should be, which is all well and good except that...it just..." Anne pulled her wrist back as he released her. She couldn't manage the words, she didn't know what she meant to say. "Things are what they are - we lack the power to change it, simply put. Why discuss things that cannot change? Why tease ourselves?"
It wasn't really how she felt, deep down - she wanted things to change. She wanted to get away from everything, from Henry, from her father. But she lacked the ability to do so. When this whole thing had first started she had fantasized of escape; but over time, when nothing changed and there was no glimmer of hope that things would get better, Anne had resigned herself to a pessimistic existence.
A whore for the king and a slave to her father's will.
"Why fool ourselves with dreams, if we lack the means to bring them to fruition?" Anne had to look away then, her eyes going glassy as she bit the side of her tongue to keep herself from tears. "I'm sorry Thomas, but I am...not content with things as they are. But evidently, they will not change, and I can only get my hopes up so far before I lose them completely..."
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What she had said wasn't untrue. They lacked the means to change what was the reality. Still, life was not static. What was true today could have been quite the opposite the next day.
But what did it matter if Anne didn't believe the same? He had been defeated.
"Very well. Let us not discuss any further. I will bid my farewell to you here and now as we cannot return to the castle together anyway. I'll stay behind." He gave a deep bow and turned to search for his own mask. It was black and hard to locate in the midst of the dark shadows but find it he did.
Like other guests, he had been invited to stay over, after all the party was supposed to go on all night. Things turning awry with Anne, he'd have preferred to return to Allington. However, finding an excuse to leave at this hour didn't appeal to him, either. Damn! He was forced to endure the night at Hever. At least he could wake up early and be on his way without meeting with Anne again.
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The precise same thought entered her mind: How foolish she had been, to think that the feelings he claimed for her were strong enough for him to want to protect her, rather than continue stirring in the shadows. Anne bit down so hard on her own tongue it was a miracle she didn't bite straight through it. She looked away as he groped about for his mask.
Don't let him see, don't let him know - she couldn't let him see the tears in her eyes. She couldn't let him see how deep this had hurt her. Anne had to pretend, had to be strong, had to be cruel. Even if she felt like crumbling inside. Unable to fight the reflexes of her body, Anne turned, reached out to him, her arm trembling a bit - thank heaven he was turned at that point.
"Thomas, I-" No, her voice was cracking too much, she didn't dare say anything more, lest it fail and betray her.
She turned, and left, tying her mask over her face to conceal herself. God forbid her father or George see her in such a state! Anne returned to the castle, but not to the festivities. She summoned a maid upon returning, keeping her back to the wall to hide how loosely laced her gown had been. Anne told the maid that she was ill, feigning drunken sluggishness to make her story more believable, and potentially explain her disheveled appearance. She bid the maid to tell her father that she was not feeling well, and that she would retire early.
The maid obeyed, and Anne left to her bedroom. She sent her remaining maids away, not wanting contact with anyone else for the remainder of the evening. Anne violently tugged at the ribbon of her mask and threw it away. She was just as violent with the laces of her dress, getting them just loose enough so that she could wrench herself free of the garment before falling to her bed. Under the cover of her blankets, she released herself of the bonds of propriety. She was alone now, it couldn't hurt. Anne buried her face in her hands and wept miserably.
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Feel free to make them meet at the stables or somewhere else.))
Wyatt returned to the castle slowly after Anne, wondering what she had tried to tell him before leaving. From love to hate, and thence for to relent? Of course she had her pride as well. He wouldn't care for her if she didn't. He wasn't turned on by women who echoed everything men said even if that would have been the easier choice. Anne certainly wasn't easy.
The entrance to Hever was lit by torches. Wyatt stopped to look at it. As much as he loved his own home, there was no denying Hever was a gorgeous little castle. Normally he would have been delighted to walk under the portcullis, now he had to drag his feet.
Once inside, he was practically hit by a lightning. That lightning came in the form of George Boleyn who - seemingly out of nowhere - slapped his hand on Wyatt's shoulder and laughed heartily.
"Thomas! I see you've been enjoying yourself. No, don't tell me which maid-" George's hand grabbed the lapel of Wyatt's jacket and flung it playfully. "For pity's sake, get dressed. I wouldn't mind but my father is still the master of this manor." Laughing some more, George waved at his lady friend across the hall and was gone. Wyatt stood there for a split moment, dumbstruck, before he gathered himself and quickly fastened the clasps of his doublet.
The rest of the evening went in a haze for him. When Wyatt realized Anne wasn't among the guests, he resented her good luck of escaping the party. There was no excuse he could have used to do the same. Though he did consider himself lucky in that Mary, Anne's sister with whom he had promised to dance with, was too occupied with other guests. Wyatt did't have trouble finding company with the men who were emptying the wine kegs.
Later, lying on a cot he was given, in a room with a dozen guests, his mind was drafting a poem that hopefully he'd remember the next day.
Is it possible
That so high debate,
So sharp, so sore, and of such rate,
Should end so soon that was begun so late?
Is it possible?
Come morning, Wyatt managed to get up at a decent hour. He kindly declined the offer of a breakfast (lest he see Anne there) and headed towards the stables. His first stop was at the well, where he splashed cold water on his face to actually wake himself up.
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For all her emotional exhaustion and fatigue, Anne could not sleep. Once her tears had stopped, Anne took to staring out her window, seeking solace in the stars and moon in the night sky. But there was no comfort now.
Begrudgingly, she rose when the sun came again. Anne let the servants dress her in a riding gown with a slit in the front of her dress to allow her to ride more comfortably. Perhaps her favorite horse could give her some comfort.
Perhaps astride him when he ran would help her feel free, if only for a moment.
As the guests assembled for breakfast, Anne took a small pastry from a tray and nibbled absently at it. As she glanced about she noticed that Thomas was not among the other guests. A quick question of a servant girl confirmed that he had indeed spent the night, but had declined breakfast.
Had he gone already? That thought hurt Anne once again, worse than before. He did not wish to reconcile, clearly, if he had left without speaking to her.
Still she made her way to the stable. Honestly Anne did not expect to see Thomas there. And when she looked up and saw him at the well, her throat closed, silencing her.
He hadn't left. But what to say? What could she do?
"...Are you truly so cruel to leave things as they are?" She finally managed, leaning against one of the support beams. "Or without saying goodbye, at least?"
She was unable to stop herself from continuing:
"And will you leave me thus?"
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He didn't expect to see her. Wyatt glanced nervously around, making sure there wasn't anyone close enough to hear him. Talking to Anne was nothing out of the ordinary or off-limits but Wyatt feared his body language and tone of voice would out him. The one person he especially didn't wish to witness the moment was of course her father. Thomas Boleyn didn't have a reason to suspect anything but most fathers tended to be oddly perceptive (or skeptical) about their daughters.
Wyatt wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. God she looked good! He could spend all day looking at her. However, his words didn't reflect that thought as he opened his mouth.
"Why are you here?" She could have easily avoided him. Besides, Wyatt didn't appreciate having the lines of his own poem thrown at his face. Hence he was not able to keep his voice quite as neutral as he would have preferred.
"I don't want to say goodbye," he hissed between his teeth. "Don't you know that?"
He grabbed his saddlebag but made no attempt to leave yet. Only now realizing what she was wearing, Wyatt had to ask, "Where are you going?" Like it was any of his business.
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Anne was not so dim-witted as to let her father get suspicious to begin with. He may have been wary of her whereabouts, but Thomas Boleyn was a bit more concerned with his welfare and fortune than he was with Anne. So she knew full well how to play that to her advantage.
She tried to fight the urge to show how hurt she was at his words. Anne bit the side of her tongue to keep her mouth taut, to keep her lips from turning into the frown they wanted to turn into. Still, she did give a slight shrug and glance to one of the horses when he asked that, bringing one hand up to stroke the beast's velvet nose.
"Why should I have reason to be in my family's stables?" She pointed out. "But, to answer your question, I did not wish to leave things as they were."
Anne glanced up to him, giving a slight sigh. Perhaps this had not been a good idea.
"But, if you'd rather not discuss it; if you'd prefer to leave things bitter as they are, I suppose I am powerless against it," she tilted her head a bit, turning to face him more fully. "Though I would indeed like to convince you otherwise..."
As if anxious for her touch again, the horse nudged his head out of the stall and nudged his snout against Anne's shoulder. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and Anne reached up to stroke his nose again. It gave her time to ponder his question.
"I'm not sure really," Anne confessed. "I thought a ride might clear my head - might raise my spirits. Besides, a full gown might make me look out of place here, considering I wanted to speak to you, don't you think?"
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"As I recall you were not keen to discuss matters the last I saw you." But really, he did not wish to be confrontational anymore. It took too much energy. And as far as he could tell, she wanted good relations to reign between them again. He could afford to let her explain. Wyatt nodded his silent agreement.
"You, boy!" he yelled at a young stable boy who was walking by with an armload of hay. The youth came running and greeted Anne first, then Wyatt. "Saddle the horses, please. For the lady, and for me. The dark bay in the corner," he pointed towards his trusted gelding.
"Did you say you had plans to ride past the church, my lady? I am more than happy to accompany you there." The St Peter's Church, up the hill. It was ridiculous, perhaps, to play it out like that, but Wyatt wanted to leave the impression (yes, in front of a mere boy) that it was purely accidental that he'd be riding out with Anne. Which it was - accidental - though he was about to make it less so. They would ride together further than the church.
The boy worked swiftly and in no time Wyatt had helped Anne on her horse and then himself.
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