𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓞𝓯 𝓘𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮

​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇲​​🇴​​🇴​​🇳​ ​🇹​​🇪​​🇸​​🇹​​🇦​​🇲​​🇪​​🇳​​🇹​​🇸​

!

I am awakened by the sound of rustling, the gentle movement of fabric interrupting my slumber. Rather than feeling angered, I am amused. Turning over, I notice the sunlight peeking through the windows, revealing a beautiful day. The rejection of the King's invitation to his bed likely has him fuming, akin to an animal locked in a cage, yearning for meat, blood-dripping meat. The desire for the King to ravish me lingers, prompting me to pull back the sheets and rise from the bed. As I stand, I stretch and greet the day with love.

Blessed with a second chance by God himself, I realize I don't have to surrender to the King's will. Embracing my nakedness, the thrill courses through me. My body is taut, with round curves, supple breasts, and hardened nipples. Looking down at my feet, I wiggle my toes—a simple yet profound sign that I am alive.

It is a blessing!

I hear my ladies conversing outside my chamber with my mother, Countess Boleyn, guiding them as per my instructions. It's important to me that everything is in perfect order; I've decided not to stress over trivial matters any longer. Liberated from burdens and the chains of the King, I am in control, shaping my path without concern for offending him with my absence. I desire him to yearn for every part of me.

After stretching, I move about my chamber, walking towards the window to draw back the curtains, welcoming light into the room. I refuse to live in shadows, as my heart opens to dispel the darkness. Standing proudly before the chamber window that overlooks the garden of Whitehall Palace, I bask in the King's love. The garden is enchanting, with trees bathed in sunlight. I, too, will embrace the warmth. Holding the world in my hands, I am determined not to allow anyone to obstruct my way. My first order of business is to handle my Uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, who expects homage. I refuse to comply; he judged me to die, hoping for a painful death with crows pecking at my eyes. As the door opens, I turn to see my Lady mother appear in the doorway.

!

Her expression is uncommon as she closes the door urgently. "What on God's Earth are you doing, child?" Despite laughter lingering on my features, I draw the draperies closed, enveloping the chamber in darkness with only a few candles casting a dim light.

"I am embracing my sexuality, Mother. I am aware. God has granted me a double chance, and now I hold all the cards. Henry can achieve nothing but yearn. God chastises him every time. As I lie here, considering all he has done, he will pay for his actions against George and Mark—executing innocent souls and now expecting me to bear him a child. For what purpose?" My mother appeared embarrassed.

The confusion wasn't perplexing; it was an epiphany. The potion would fulfill all my desires. I would have the king in my grasp, making him kneel at my feet. While he may have England worship him, he would be my personal slave. The thought of carrying the next king in my belly excited me, but I planned to leave the king as soon as I became pregnant. He would have to search for me in the depths of darkness, show his love, and beg for my forgiveness. Mercy would have to be shown to my brother and my friend Mark, the beautiful violinist whose pleasure the king took away by executing him.

The king, a dictator, would grow poorer in later ages. I aimed to make amends with history. With Thomas Cromwell deceased, the Duke of Suffolk, the monarch's great companion, would be next on the chopping block, surrendering his head as my brother did. My blood burned as I moved to my bed, slipping into my garments while withholding my nakedness for my mother's comfort. She looked both impressive and conflicted.

Vengeance was what she sought—a scent of retribution darkening the air. "The moment will come. We must be patient."