𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓞𝓯 𝓘𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮

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I have roused from a daydream, and the thought lingers in my mind, honest and true. As I come back to reality, I find myself in the King's Chambers, having accomplished my mission of submission. I remember pouring the elixir into the King's Drink, enticed by the importance of his support to my household. The elixir holds within it lust, ambition, power, and fortune. With its help, I will become Queen, perched upon a golden throne. I sense that I have conceived a child, a change that I can't fully articulate yet. The monarch will surely be overjoyed, but I must rid myself of his spare, Richmond. He must leave the court, or else he poses a threat at the gate.

I lie still, reminiscing about the sultry and dark desire we shared during our midnight rendezvous. I pull back the covers and rise to my feet. I can no longer indulge in the king's compassion, as he lies wheezing with contentment. I quietly move around the room, careful not to disturb his rest. I know his physicians will be angry when they discover I've bedded him, but I couldn't wait any longer. There was no point in delaying. The man was awake and ready, and I could feel it within me, a rock-hard determination. He lasted for hours, calling out my name like a gospel of hymns. I don't think he has ever encountered something so intense. I moaned in pleasure, relishing every aspect of taking control. I was rediscovering my inner goddess, no longer burdened by the struggles of being a woman. I refused to conform to the expectations he had of me. I was too worldly for that. I was going back to my roots, to the core of who I am—ambitious and driven.

His mouth explored every inch of my body, devouring me with an insatiable appetite. He kissed and sucked my nipples, leaving love bites in his wake. And I reciprocated, returning the favor with enthusiasm. He groaned in my ear, thrusting deeply and showing me just how much of a man he was. But I also taught him a few things, leaving a pleasant soreness in my thighs. I relished it, loving every moment of our passionate encounter. His hand firmly gripped the back of my neck, opening my thighs as he worshipped every inch of me. He kissed me and played with my hair, his gaze locked on mine. I could still sense the passion between us, despite the pain we've caused each other. We've done things that not even God can keep count of. Yet, in that moment, our souls connected in a new way, learning from each other. There was an undeniable energy in the air, bringing forth an intoxicating mix of emotions. Our bodies were drenched in perspiration, as his throbbing desire gave us an extraordinary experience. But there were secrets hidden between us, held by our bodies. He was always a passionate man, and I reminded him of his masculinity in every aspect. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was a Frenchman. I have no apologies for the experience we shared.

Before I dress, I pour myself a cup of wine, preferably from France—the perfect way to conclude this unforgettable encounter.

  The throne of England is jinxed.   

  As I savor the wine, a noise catches my attention, signaling movement in the adjacent room. Voices drift through the door, prompting me to hasten my departure, unwilling to be seen. Setting down the goblet, I don my attire and slip into my robes, making my way back to my chambers through the secret passageway.

Upon returning to my chambers, I find my mother, the Countess of Wiltshire, awaiting my arrival. As the secret door opens, Anne enters, her demeanor no longer plagued by torment but suffused with triumph. Rising from my armchair, I greet her with a smile, the warmth of the hearth enveloping us.

"Lady Mother," Anne greets me, her flushed cheeks betraying her excitement. With practiced grace, she pours a goblet of water and offers it to me, a gesture of kindness that does not go unnoticed. "Is it done?" I inquire, eager to hear her report. Anne's confidence radiates as she confirms the success of her mission, asserting her belief in carrying a child, a future heir to the Boleyn legacy.

Pleased with her news, I find myself inexplicably elated, the prospect of furthering the Boleyn lineage filling me with a sense of satisfaction. Anne's query about the whereabouts of our father surprises me, prompting a cautious response as I consider the dangers lurking within courtly politics.

"He is in Kent," I inform her, mindful of the risks his presence at court would entail. Anne's smirk hints at her understanding, her strategic mind already at work as she proposes extending invitations to both our father and her sister, recognizing the importance of consolidating familial alliances in light of her impending pregnancy.

As Anne expresses her intention to remain confined for the time being, prioritizing the safety of her unborn child, I am struck by her determination and foresight. With England's future at stake, every decision carries weight, and I am reassured by Anne's unwavering commitment to securing a prosperous legacy for our family and our nation.

God is good.