𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓞𝓯 𝓘𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮

​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇸​​🇨​​🇷​​🇴​​🇱​​🇱​​🇸​ ​🇴​​🇫​ ​🇵​​🇦​​🇸​​🇸​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​

The King's Progress

The King's health is improving daily as summer comes to an end. Court activities are resuming, and there is a sense of merry anticipation in the air. The people show their respect and sympathy for their king. Anne Boleyn pays a visit, and I find myself enjoying her company once again.

Fond memories of our time together come flooding back. I remember the captivating sway of her black eyes and her graceful dance moves that made her the envy of the English Court. Our rivalry was intoxicating, with lingering stares, passionate conversations by the fire, and hidden messages exchanged.

I am intrigued by these memories of Anne Boleyn, the Marquess of Pembroke. I yearn to seduce her once more and feel the pleasure it brings. Despite my condition and the perspiration on my brow, I rise from my bed with the help of my servants. I am determined to regain my strength and fulfill my duties as king.

Hungry and thirsty, I signal for a servant to bring me a cup of water. Dr. Mason informs me of a remarkable idea—building a false leg to help me walk again. Master Holbein is already working on it. I express my approval and gratitude, promising to reward him for his efforts.

Once alone, I dismiss the physicians and hear the door close behind them. As I rest on my side, I detect faint footsteps approaching. In a sudden surge of energy, I reach for a concealed blade and turn to face the intruder. To my surprise, it is Anne. I hold the blade to her neck, momentarily tempted by thoughts of revenge.

But the tension subsides, and I lower the blade. Anne chuckles, seemingly unafraid of her imminent danger. She mocks me, inviting me to deliver death to her. However, she slips away from my lap before any harm is done.

Anne stands up, and I observe her scandalous attire, her seductive image adorned with pearls and rubies. Her tempting presence arouses me once again. It feels like a dream, but I desire to devour her and experience pleasure with her. I have not spoken with the physicians about such matters, but the temptation is overwhelming.

Anne straddles me, and I confess my love for her. Yet she shakes her head, dismissing my affections. She reminds me of my wife, Jane, who still waits for my return. Anne blames me for betraying her and failing as a husband. The bitterness in her voice reveals her resentful heart. I know she will always hold onto the past, blaming me for everything and longing for her brother, George Boleyn, who is lost to us forever.

I am a monster, a primal beast driven by desire and passion. I cannot erase the history between us, nor can I bring back what is lost. Our time together is a chapter that has come to an end, and we can only perform for the echoes of a vanished season.

As I pay a visit to the King, a deep-seated resentment and thirst for revenge fuel my every move. I wear a sinister smile, daring to mock the concept of death. Fear has no hold over me; I stand resolute and defiant. Though the King's life continues, I arrive at his chambers with a hidden agenda: to assert my dominance and make him my pawn.

The memory of my late relative, George Boleyn, drives my desire for vengeance. I sneer at Henry, exuding a newfound confidence. I long for him to suffer; his wounded leg is a constant reminder of the pain I intend to inflict upon him. While I had once wished for his demise, the King remains alive and conscious, dashing my hopes of regaining power through his death. To allow my rivals to rule in my place would be unacceptable.

Determined to outmaneuver the manipulative schemes of the King's ministers, whom I deem evil, I seek a private meeting with Henry. I suspect Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, of plotting against me, patiently awaiting the King's animosity towards me to resurface. Driven by past betrayals, my plan is to banish Suffolk from the court once I secure a male heir. But before that, I must bear a son to solidify my position and secure my own future.

As silence envelops the room, I retrieve a vial concealed in my bodice. It contains a potent potion—my secret weapon. Patience is key; I wait for the opportune moment to unleash its power. With careful precision, I pour its contents into a cup of wine, ensuring Henry remains unaware of my actions. Diverting his attention to my seductive allure, I offer him the drink and encourage him to toast to what lies ahead.

Henry, oblivious to my true intentions, indulges in the wine, ignorant of its adulterated nature. Confident in my charm and manipulative tactics, I methodically undress him, igniting his desire and stoking the flames of passion. However, I cannot overlook the absence of his leg—a physical imperfection that brings forth shame and embarrassment for the King.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Henry calls out my name, yearning for an emotional connection. But I refuse to acknowledge his plea. Instead, I demand his focus solely on me, reigniting the fire of his desire. As our eyes meet, the intensity returns, our physical connection intensifies, and he hungrily reaches out for me.

During that night of untamed passion, I achieved the power I had long sought over the King. In that moment, I firmly believe that I now possess him, with his kingdom and destiny resting in the palm of my hand.