Henry

I wait in the shadows of my castle, anger saturating my heart as I thought of the circumstances of the night. I watch each man saunters out the vibrant dining hall, swallowing the last of their mead and brews.

Thomas and Cromwell leave first, then another man, and yet still another. I cared for them not, for I only had one man in mind.

That fool!

How dare he touch what was mine? Taunting me for a crime I had not even committed! I didn't kill Anne; it was pressure from the masses and Cromwell. Even when I refused to kill the queen, Cromwell would insist and chide me, reminding me of the pressure from the people and the disapproval of the church.

A few minutes pass before I spot the fiend. He comes out, fighting to walk straight. Two women aided him, kissing his neck as he whispered sweet nothings into their delicate necks.

"Alfred! A word" I cursed, failing to mask my impatience. He smiles once he meets my figure and throws a courteous arm around me. "Henry! We all thought you were off to sleep!" he brags, resting his head against my chest. He was drunk.
Good.
Better for him. It meant fewer shouts and a more manageable struggle.
His death would be brisk.

"Up for a late-night game of sword fighting under the moonlight?"

He laughed, swinging his arms against the two women once more as they helped him finish the rest of his drink. "Henry? Do you see the bosoms of these women? Later" he cursed.

"Are you that scared of losing Alfred?"

He lets out a careless chuckle before shaking his head no. "Frightened? It is not in my vocabulary Henry. You know that friend"

"After 16 years of friendship, it still escapes my mind" I shrugged, turning to leave the outside clearing. Alfred was more prideful than his will permitted him. He would be the first to adopt a challenge, no matter the odds against him.

"I must remind you then Henry? You're on" he hums, patting my chest in jest.

____

We come to the clearing of the open combat field, stripping our shirts in anticipation of the spar.
And we fought. The harsh noises of our swords connecting decorated the noiseless scene of the night. He was surprisingly attentive for some who was once so intoxicated.

"Round 2 Henry!" he curses standing from the ground and wiping his sword clean. We begin again, drawing on to round 3 but before he could start his ascent, I hit him across the skull.

"FUCK HENRY!" he curses, stumbling to the ground. I watch him battle to regain his dignity for I had struck him hard. A wound had opened on his crown.

"I think you blinded me old friend" he chuckled. He stood on bended knee, battling to keep up with the fight but before he could even extend his palm for my aide, the distinct succulent sound of permeated flesh radiated against the silent night.

I made sure to stab him.
Twice and then a fifth time. Six for good measure.
His blood was everywhere and I knew he was dead but I couldn't be too sure until his heart was mute.

The kill was slower than I had anticipated, but I was still content.

"My king! We heard a yell and---" Two guards came running, halting their words as they came near the gore. They bowed once I greeted their gaze.

"Clean this mess up" I mumbled, throwing the soiled sword onto the floor.

"Yes, my king" they nodded. Of course, they obeyed; had no choice but to heed my commands.

"You" I point to another soldier who had run to assess the scene.

"Yes, your majesty" he answers.

"Make sure his obituary says he was attacked by a wild boar in the night. Also, assign a statement for chancellor of Kent. It seems as if a vacancy has exposed itself"

------

Anna

I watch him carefully as he makes his way closer to me, backing away until I was taut against his wall. He binds me into his space, glaring down at my features as I falter my breaths. His blue eyes fastened onto my lips, each orb beaming in anticipation, persuading his will to taste.

His hair was damp with blood, his bloodstained curls dripped with the scent of metal.

It was a smell one never experienced but was too evident to ignore; it hung at the back of my throat, reminding me of what he had accomplished.

"I killed him..." he muttered, looking into my eyes.
I wanted to ask "who", but was too scared to hear the outcome of his response.

I lifted a timid, yet curious finger to his lip, dragging it against my thumb. He continued watching me as I felt the contours of his features.

"Why?" I whispered, watching him carefully as he moved his lips to kiss my fingertips. I only shivered, watching the blood of his kill smear my skin.
I was used to gore and injury so the blood did not surprise me...it was the insane look he brandished in his eyes.

He was a madman.

"Cause that mere peasant knew better than to touch what is mine...." The lust he had hidden in the deepest depths of his spirit dripped from every syllable.
He was excited.
Aroused.

"And who says I was am yours, my king?" I teased, relishing in his anger as he heard my refutal.

He glances down at my features, rubbing each brow before he snapped my jaw, making me feel the pulsing veins against his wrists.

"I say it Anna." he whispered, pressing his lips to my ear before releasing a lazy chuckle. "Not yet, but soon Anna" he mutters, letting my chin go before sitting on his bed.

What was his problem?
Did he still think I was his precious Anne Boleyn?

"I don't know...who you think I am ..or who you want me to be...but I am not her."

He remains silent, looking out the window.

"Leave" he curses, pushing a finger against his temple.

" I will never be her!" I cried out, stepping across the room to face him. He ignored my words but I refused to let him win.

"Anne Boleyn is dead!!!" I yelled, stepping into his space. Before I knew it, he reaches out to grab me, pressing his palm against my throat and flinging me into the bed.

His bright blue eyes cemented onto my own as we stared each other down in silence.  
I don't know whether I was thrilled or upset.

"Say her name again, I dare you Anna " he seethes.
I knew I had gone over and challenged his authority. He had warned me twice already to refrain from saying her name but I still did it.
Why? I do not know.

He presses a finger against my cheek, caressing my skin before dragging it down to my bosoms. They were peaking out, just above the neck of my dress. My breath hitches as he moves his lips to kiss the skin, hungrily leaving a trail of kisses filled with blood.

"Get out" he curses, pulling away from my body before standing to face the window once more. He pulls his curly blonde locks into his bloody palms.

I sat up from the comfort of the bed, staring at his figure as he watched the night from the window.
I back away, finally allowing my wisdom to take control and depart the room.

------

I run as far as my feet could take me, bursting into the servants' washroom and looking into the mirror, staring at the woman in my reflection.

An innocent man's blood was painted against my skin and all along my dress.
I put on the well of water and gaze at the reflector, looking and turning my head each way.
The blood of another man was on my skin and for some reason, it did not upset me...it thrilled me and for that I was afraid.

I take a fresh towel, hurriedly washing my skin before anyone could witness the state of my appearance. As I am rushing to tidy, I see a figure in the mirror.

"Thomas" I whispered, surprised by his unexpected appearance. He stood behind me at a distance, watching me through the reflection of the long glass mirror.

"Thomas... I can explain" but he is silent, looking at my neck then down at my wrinkled and bloodied dress.

But if course he cares not to hear my words and backs away; not out of fear but concern.

" Thomas wait!" I ran after him but he was too quick and eventually, I give up.

Great!
Now he thought I was a murderer. I mean...I was meant to be one, but it was supposed to be a secret.

Now, what was I to do?