his majesty the king

Queen to King

Fri, 21 Dec 2012 21:49:46 -0500

Her boys would break hearts. They were already on their way to becoming devastatingly handsome. She would have to keep a close eye on them in the future. They were already always full of mischief. Anne could only imagine what they would be like when they grew old enough to notice beautiful girls.

“We shall,” she said firmly, catching William’s small grin,” your chair will have to be biggest, to remind everyone where the center is, of course,” she teased, leaning in for a kiss.

Of course, as soon as Anne leaned over to steal a kiss from her husband their sons made faces and complained. Arthur kept his lips pressed against hers for an extra moment just for fun, to make the boys squirm a little more. If this made them uncomfortable, imagine if they knew what their parents had just been doing! But all in good time; someday, they would find women who made their hearts race as Anne did his…although they might not be able to wed those lucky girls.

“I fear such a chair would defeat the whole purpose of the thing. Equality for all! Equality and justice!” Arthur exclaimed, swinging William up into his arms. William giggled and Arthur laughed, too.

He had considered building such a table before, but he knew some courtiers would raise hell. They would call him pretentious. They would hate the symbolism. Equality had no place at his court, as much as he would have liked it to. He was the King, true, but he had already changed their religion—he could not very well change their social structure, too, lest he be overthrown!

But George looked hopeful. “Who are Papa’s knights, Mama?”

“Uncle Hawwy!” William exclaimed, and giggled again.

Queen to King

Fri, 21 Dec 2012 14:17:43 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

William and George obeyed quickly, scrambling to their mother’s arms for a kiss and a warm hug. Followed by the same for their father. They barely noticed their parents were not even dressed.

“Darling I hope you did not wake her, Bess needs her rest. She’s had a long night.”

“We didn’t….she went back to sleep,” William answered hesitantly.

“Very well.”

Anne smiled softly and brushed her sons curls gently.

“Your papa rescued her.”

Arthur smiled indulgently at the boys as Anne scolded them. Of course, they would have been eager to see Elizabeth, their beloved big sister; he remembered how Harry had idolized Margaret when he was a boy. Besides, even as young as they were, William and George could surely tell when something was not right in their family. They were bright, attentive children despite their mischievous ways.

When Anne told them that he had saved Elizabeth, William looked up at his father as if he was a god. It made Arthur a little uncomfortable—there had not been much rescuing involved.

“Of cowse he did. King Arfur has to rescue people,” William concluded.

“Papa is King Arfur,” George reminded him, snuggling into his mother’s arms.

“No round table,” William muttered, and Arthur had to laugh. Though their birth had very nearly been Anne’s death, he loved his sons very much and was glad to have them.

“I suppose we shall have to build one, my love,” he said to Anne. “My own sons will not take me without the Table Round.”

Queen to King

Fri, 21 Dec 2012 03:53:19 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Read More

How he had gone so long without her, Arthur did not know. He was sure of only one thing: he did not want to be without her intimacy, whether physical or mental, for such a long stretch of time again. He had felt as though he was losing her, but he had never been certain to what…or to whom. The feeling was decidedly gone now, however, though with his mind clear, he felt his fears of her pregnancy returning. What if she should become pregnant again? There was a chance—perhaps even a good chance—that she would not survive it.

But Arthur forced those thoughts away again. He smiled at her. “I intend to have ample opportunity,” he said, and he meant it. Anne had never once proved unwilling to admit him to her bed.

There was an odd sound coming from beyond the bedchamber, almost like low rumbling. He frowned, distracted, and peered towards the doorway to see what could be the cause. It was soon accompanied by muffled shouting, a woman’s voice—

He realized the sound was that of footsteps only when he heard the scolding voice of their sons’ nurse more clearly; it came from within the audience chamber. This had the makings of an uncomfortable situation for all of them; he knew all too well that there was no controlling wild Tudor boys when they had their minds set on something. Somehow, he managed to pull the sheets up around them both by the time the stampede made its way to the bedchamber.

“You cannot simply barge in on your father the King when—”

Arthur felt quite bad for the poor nursemaid who stumbled in after William and George. She looked ready to die of shock and embarrassment, realizing from the discarded clothes and the Queen’s mussed hair what had just occurred in the room. She must have apologized a dozen times before Arthur cleared his throat and said kindly, “You may leave us.”

The woman slunk out while the boys, heedless of their parents’ state of impropriety and undress, scrambled up onto the bed.

“Mama, Papa, Lilibet is home!” announced the little Duke of Richmond, beaming.

Photo

Fri, 21 Dec 2012 02:01:58 -0500

Queen to King

Fri, 21 Dec 2012 01:59:10 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Read More

It amused Arthur to think if any of their courtiers could even begin to imagine the passions the King and Queen shared in their bedchamber; sometimes they became veritable animals, and Arthur did not regret a moment of it. He had loved Katherine, but he had never been so sated from lying with her as with Anne. The wildness of their couplings was truly a marvel…one he enjoyed revisiting many times.

Harder, she said; he would oblige. And faster, too. Arthur began bringing their hips together with bruising force, once, twice, again and again. He pulled Anne’s legs around his hips and kept his hands upon hers until he was as much pulling her onto him as he was thrusting himself into her.

But eventually, he could go no farther, reach no deeper point within her body; her name came from his lips as he searched for a bit of skin to kiss, settling upon her shoulder, muffling his cries there as his release came at last. It thundered through him and he spilled himself within her womb, leaving him empty and exhausted.

His chest heaved as he rolled onto his back beside her. He could hear his heart pulse deafeningly in his ears. He felt both drained and more complete than he had in ages.

Queen to King

Fri, 21 Dec 2012 01:07:22 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Read More

He had never expected to hear her beg; this was more than enough. To know they were both ready for each other. It was enough to feel loved, to feel wanted, after such a long dry spell. Arthur’s grin faded into a tender smile. He moved away from her for a moment, repositioning himself so that his face was again close to hers.

“It is my goal that you never suffer,” he murmured, “and certainly not on my account.”

Then he kissed her, a long, languid kiss, even as he entered her with one quick and powerful thrust. He remained that way for a long moment, simply one with her, as they had not been for far too long. He truly felt as though he had been reunited with his better half, or at least a full half of him. Without her, he was incomplete. He had suffered from the lack of her in recent months, even before Elizabeth had been taken.

After a few long moments, he began to move, lifting himself up and plunging back into the warm heat which still embraced him after so long. He could not suppress his soft groan.

Queen to King

Thu, 20 Dec 2012 23:56:47 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Read More

Anne was probably more aware of things that had changed about her body than he was; other than her hips and breasts being a little fuller—things no man could complain about—Arthur saw little difference. She was still as lovely and as desirable as she had been the first time he laid eyes on her. More desirable, really, laid out for him like this like the most glorious of holiday feasts. He grinned up at her even as she smirked down at him, inviting him to torture her.

“If you insist,” he retorted; he had not really intended to do so, but if Anne wanted him to…

Slowly, Arthur inched along her the plane of her stomach. He left butterfly kisses along the soft skin of her inner thigh, teasing, until he finally pressed his lips against the wetness he had just recently been invading with his fingers. He found that most secret of openings and dipped his tongue into it. She tasted sweet and it made him still more ready for her.

For a moment, he drew his face away from her dark curls, stealing a glance at her face again. She had to be close—she was not made of stone.

Queen to King

Thu, 20 Dec 2012 02:25:29 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Read More

Arthur knew he was victorious—though in fact, they had both won—when Anne at last withdrew from him and abandoned her flimsy nightgown once and for all, baring her body to him for the first time in far too long. Her words were more than enough encouragement for him. He was already prepared to do just that. More than prepared, in fact. He was ready for this lovemaking to the point of it nearly being painful.

“Then I shall do as I must,” he said, and leaned up to capture her lips in a kiss. His hands ghosted along her naked body, stopping upon her full hips—fuller now than he had remembered; a mother’s hips, now.

He knew she liked it when he was a bit rough with her, and he was more than willing that day. In one fluid motion, he reversed their positions, tossing her once more upon the pillows. He quickly shed the remains of his clothing, the breeches she’d unlaced and straddled her. She looked quite vulnerable, prone upon his bed at last. He liked the view.

He lowered his lips to her ear. “Will you not plead, my darling, for a pardon?”

Of course, she would never dream of such a thing, not his brave Anne. He trailed his lips down further then, along the soft skin of her neck and her collar bone and finally her breasts, stopping at her navel to look up at her.

Queen to King

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 22:51:14 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Read More

Witchcraft was a sin and an evil, but sometimes, Arthur felt as though his wife could work magic—and he was hardly going to complain. His body certainly would not. Her hand was nearly driving him mad; he wanted her. He wanted the intimacy they had almost forgotten, the intimacy they’d lost when they lost Elizabeth. And frankly, he did not know how long he could last with Anne’s…encouragement.

The trick was, of course, to outdo her, though it was hardly an easy task. He dipped his fingers deeper into her core, then drew them out again, using his thumb to tease the spot he knew brought her the most pleasure of all. He knew her secrets, his Anne’s, just as she knew his.

At least in this way, he knew how to make her happy, and it had been a long time since either of them had truly made the other happy in any way at all.

“What if I decide not to pardon you, even if you are innocent, my lady?” he asked, his lips close enough to hers to brush them as he spoke. “What if I choose to punish you, regardless?” Then he grinned. Punishment. Hardly.

Queen to King

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 01:34:33 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Her fingers played a bit more with the laces of his breezes, tangling in them, “I see your majesty has yet to warm up to my persuasion, perhaps I need to try a little….harder.”

With lighting speed she had him on his back, straddling him. She lifted the hem of her nightgown past her creamy thighs, and out of the way. She smiled deviously and without hesitation undid the laces easily, and slipped her hand all the way down. He was warm and already hardening against her expert fingers. She slid them down further, stroking the tip, all along with brushing strokes of her fingertips.

She bent down, her face inches from his, “I will simply have to do my best…in my defense.”

Anne laughed softly, her eyes dancing, and kissed him deeply again.

Arthur loved her for this, and the suffering would be sweet, he knew. He grinned at her words. Ah, his clever love. But then she had undone his breeches at last, and—he sucked in his breath sharply feeling her cool, soft hands against him. It did not take much, and if he had not been sufficiently ready after their stolen kisses and her embrace, he certainly was now. He hissed as she continued her caresses. She was talented, there could be no mistaking…

“A-ah…” His cries were stifled by her lips, soft and sweet-tasting against his. She was fast on her way to proving her innocence, but… No reason to let her have all the fun.

Willing his hands to listen, willing his mind to think clearly enough to control them, Arthur wove his forearm around hers. He stroked the creamy skin of her inner thighs, reaching higher to dip the tips of his fingers in her wet heat—which was indeed quite wet already.

Grinning against the kiss, he pressed his fingers more firmly against her, moving them just slightly, just enough to tease.

Queen to King

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 00:55:26 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Anne quirked an eyebrow, a sly smile forming on her lips.

“Then I fear,” she murmured, her lips close to his ear, slipping her arms around his shoulders, “I will have to persuade you.”

Anne brushed her lips lightly over his, along his jaw, bringing her lips to his neck and trailing down to his collar bone and back to the base of his jaw. Her hands made themselves busy. She brushed her fingertips down his chest, his abdomen, stopping short at the laces to his breeches. Her fingers toyed with them.

Her eyes flicked up at him, watching.

Yes; this was the woman Arthur had married so long ago, though in reality it had not been such a terribly long time. This was the woman for whom and with whom he had reformed the English Church. How strange, that she had been gone so long, and yet it felt like only yesterday that they had enjoyed their wild passions…

No time for thinking now, however. Her hands and lips were busy, and Arthur’s eyes closed again of their own accord. He could barely contain the groans as she kissed and stroked her way down his body, down, down—

He opened his eyes to look at her then, when she began to tug playfully at the laces of his breeches. Wench.

“When, exactly, do you become persuasive, my lady?” he asked, knowing he was tempting fate—knowing she would tease all the more for it—but not caring. He would not beg. Let her try and coax it from him! He would relish the experience.

Photo

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 00:54:44 -0500

Queen to King

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 00:25:07 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Her nightgown had become disheveled and a sleeve had slipped down, baring her shoulder. Anne took advantage of this, letting more of her gown slip dangerously low down her shoulders. Her hair fell like a dark curtain of silk down one shoulder.

She gazed at him seductively, her eyes teasing,”your majesty, I must protest. I am quite innocent.”

“Perhaps,” she moved up to him and reached through the fabric of his doublet, running her hands across his chest to his shoulders, removing it slowly,”your majesty might allow me a chance to prove my innocence?”

Neither of them could deny that they had their fun. He had loved Katherine, and he had taken pleasure in their time together, but it did not compare to this—to Anne’s saucy flirtations or to his word games. He shuddered to think of men, any men, who considered time in bed with their wife a chore, a duty. Regardless of how far apart they had drifted, he and Anne still had this. They could still prove their love to one another.

He grinned when she insisted she was innocent, but the expression faded into a blissful smile when she touched him. He had missed her touch, the honey which now dripped from her already-sweet voice… Yes, he had missed these things. They had other problems, but without this, it had been difficult to feel as though she was Anne, much less his Anne.

After a moment, he breathed: “How, exactly, do you propose to do so, my lady?”

He opened his eyes enough to look down at her, down at her exquisite form, her perfect ivory skin and raven hair and the full breasts hiding just beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown… “I fear…I am hard-pressed to believe you.”

Queen to King

Sat, 15 Dec 2012 22:18:46 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Their problems would not disappear all at once. But for a little while they could forget everything. She already was forgetting everything.

She shivered, her hands roaming further, undoing the buttons of his doublet, reaching for the loose shirt underneath, her fingertips searching for the warmth of his skin. In turn her tongue moved to play with his, taunting him further.

Anne was not thinking of children or of risks, she just wanted him so much. More than she had in a long time.

But she would be patient, oh she would be patient, she would torture him sweetly first.

The touch of her skin against his was almost too much for him—almost overwhelming. After so long… This was, of course, why Kings took mistresses. Most did not marry for love, and even if they did, they surely sought the physical relief Arthur had not had in over a year with other women if their wives were unable to pleasure them. He did not regret having no mistress, however. He loved Anne too much, even when their relationship was strained, to dream of such a thing.

His tongue dueled with hers as he reached up and pushed against the fabric of her dressing gown. After a moment, he gave up and lifted her up into his arms, carrying her out of the audience chamber and into the bedchamber—a much more private place, and more comfortable.

Very gently, he tossed her upon the bed and climbed on it himself, kneeling at the foot and watching her, mesmerized.

“I fear that you have been neglecting your duty as Queen, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Your youngest children, they are more than three years old. And there you are—still so young and beautiful.” He paused, though his fingers were still undoing the buttons on the front of his doublet. “However shall I punish you?”

Queen to King

Sat, 15 Dec 2012 19:37:37 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Anne couldn’t help but laugh a little. How often indeed.

“Too often it seems.”

A small flush crept along her cheeks, she had forgotten how good his touch felt. Patient, and full of promise, and passionate. Always that undercurrent of passion that she so loved.

Henry was far away from her mind. All she wanted was right in front of her. The man who loved her, the father of her children, her king.

Anne pressed close to him as he kissed her. It had been so long. Her lips parted, wanting more. She had missed his warmth, his hands, his lips…Her hands strayed to his chest, teasing.

Arthur could not remember how long it had been since he had made love to his wife. The physicians had warned them that another pregnancy could prove Anne’s undoing after she had nearly died giving birth to their boys, and after that they had been more cautious, but in the six months since Elizabeth had been kidnapped and the Catholic rebels had demanded Anne’s removal, they had not even thought of such things. Now, suddenly, he found that he wanted her more powerfully than he had in years. Her hands against his shirt, her lips cleaving to his…

If she wanted more, he was willing to give it. He slid his tongue along her bottom lip and the tops of her teeth, testing the waters which had lain dormant for so long. His heart pounded in his ears, and against her hand.

Could she survive another pregnancy, another trying labor? Could there be more children for them in the future? His brother had plenty of his own, God only knew, but in that regard Anne seemed almost fragile. Arthur would love another babe in the royal nursery, and thought it would do Anne good—but could they risk it? Was it worth it?

His body answered him loud and clear: yes, yes!

Photo

Sat, 15 Dec 2012 19:13:53 -0500

Queen to King

Sat, 15 Dec 2012 19:11:47 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

“I suppose I will have to be content with that then,” she sighed, “I only regret that I cannot punish them myself,” she said hotly. Her temper still flared at the very thought.

Again Arthur distracted her from her anger, making her heart melt.

“Do you remember how often you had to tell me that?” a small smile crept onto her face,”All you have suffered. For me. Am I still worth it? or would it be easier for you to let me go?”

She had never wanted to say that. But, for the first time in her life, her ambitions were gone. What good was her crown if her children would always be threatened?

He could not deny that Katherine’s death had been hard. It had taken a toll on him, and it had taken a long time for Anne to banish the former Queen’s ghost. Yes, he remembered how often he had had to tell her—and himself—that he loved her and forgotten his dead wife as much as any man could. Now, however, it was undeniably true. Katherine had tragically died in childbirth, along with their newborn daughter. But Anne was the mother of his living children—his beloved Elizabeth, who had lived far longer than a few breaths, and the boys, his heirs.

It was Anne whom he loved, and Anne whose husband he would be until the day he died.

“My love, how often must I tell you that I will never put you aside?” He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, then lowered it to play gently against her bottom lip. “You are my wife and Queen. God sent you to me. God has chosen you to do His work in England. God has kept our children safe, and He will continue to do so.”

He bent to kiss her then, letting go of the hand he held pressed against his cheek so that he could cup her face in his hands.

Queen to King

Sat, 15 Dec 2012 18:06:15 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

“I want you to crush them,” her voice was icy, dangerous,”They can say whatever they want about me, they can threaten me, but they cannot threaten our children, teach them to respect your family and what happens when they are threatened. Not for me but for your children.”

Anne’s temper always got the better of her, but this was different, she was furious, deadly. She envied Arthur then, he could take his revenge where she could not.

“And promise you will come back to me,” she reached up, gently brushing aside a bit of his hair,”I need you.”

Arthur had nearly forgotten how quickly Anne’s moods could change. One moment she was angry, demanding, and the next she was soft and sweet, reminding him of the girl for whom he had fallen the first time he visited Hever Castle, the girl who had been there to comfort him in the wake of Katherine’s death. Yes, he loved her—but often he hardly recognized her anymore. He hardly saw the Anne he truly loved beneath the callouses she’d developed as Queen to defend herself from all the criticism and the fear that seemed to plague them constantly.

It had not been such a terribly long time, but it had changed her. He missed her, too, but as she used to be—not as she so often seemed now: either hard and fierce and venomous, or else a hollow shell of herself, as she had been for all those months since Elizabeth disappeared.

“I will see justice done for Elizabeth,” he assured her. Perhaps it was not quite what she had wanted or asked, but it was the best he could do. He was the King; his job was not to seek vengeance or to pursue personal vendettas. That was probably not good enough for the hot-tempered Queen, but it was what Arthur believed.

She had married him, and when she had, she had also agreed to share his ideals.

“I have always been here, my love,” he murmured then. He caught her hand and pressed its palm against his cheek. “I have always been here, and always yours. Not Katherine’s, nor any other woman’s. Yours.” He sometimes wondered if she would have been happier and more at peace as a French comtess—but no. God had made her a Queen and sent her to him for a purpose. She had never been born to sink so low as comtess.

Photo

Sat, 15 Dec 2012 12:57:55 -0500

Queen to King

Sat, 15 Dec 2012 11:25:08 -0500

mademoiselle-boulain:

Nonetheless, he was standing there looking at her like so, his hands held out to her. Anne felt a rush of intense affection and went to him quickly, taking his hands.

Anne stood on her toes, still holding his warm hands firmly in hers, and kissed him.

Words could not describe how much she loved him, how relieved, how afraid she had been, how grateful she was, how so very sorry she was for blaming him.

“Thank you, Arthur,” was all she could manage.

How many months, or even years, had it been since Anne had come to him and kissed him in such a way? Arthur was suddenly reminded of the night of the masquerade when he had chased after her and clung to her hands as though she would turn and run if he did not hold onto her. She had not run. She had accepted him. She was here, almost eight years later, because of that.

Good God—had it been eight years already? An eternity. Elizabeth was so young, and yet thinking of how much time had passed since he first fell in love with Anne and wed her made him feel rather old again. Anne had been in the prime of her life when he had married her, but he was a good deal older than her…

There was no point in thinking of that now, however. Their boys were small, yet, and they had many years ahead of them. He was determined they would be happy years.

“You see, my love,” he said, still smiling, “Elizabeth is with us again and the rebellion will end soon enough. And I fear that I am at a loss for what to give you this Yuletide—what can compare to the safety of our daughter?”

He would, in reality, shower her with gifts as he usually did—fabric for new gowns; a newly-commissioned necklace or hood—but in truth, if Elizabeth had not returned to them, Christmas would have meant next to nothing for either the King or his Queen.