Prompt #265 for theatrical_muse
Prompt: What did you dream last night?
Muse: Anne Boleyn
Fandom: Anne of the Thousand Days/The Other Boleyn Girl/Various Historical Works & Source Material
Word Count: 515
I do not shiver, and my steps are strong and proud. I walk towards the scaffold with the dignity of true nobility. My head is held high, and the gift of the sun's rays shields the faces of those I do not wish to gaze upon. For all are here, what choice have they? My own father and uncle, they shall watch as the pawn of their blood, who reached far higher than even they had imagined, shall come to her end. But I am no pawn of anyone, my initial move may have been at their push, yet as I strode boldly forwards, Bishops and Knights fell at my thirst. The pawn was no longer theirs to guide. For in that game I became Queen, and not one regret do I have.
Golden straw scattered afore me awaits the spill of my blood. The freshest of newly dried grasses reflecting the hope of a spring sun that has never seemed so blinding. And I am grateful for it. There is no chill to make me quake, the block is warmed by its kindly caress as I lay my neck upon it, and its golden glow is as rich and bright as my Elizabeth's hair. For with the drifting scent of the flowers of May and the glorious warmth of the sun's spring promise, the power of my ambition is truly born.
For through my dreams, there is true reason for this end. My blood will be well spent, and my Elizabeth shall be Queen. I have seen for myself. She will rule a greater England than any King can ever have built. Elizabeth, child of Anne the Whore and Henry the Blood-Stained Lecher, shall be Queen!
I had thought to dream of hopes of a son, the desperate wishes of a woman clinging to her life's regret on her last evening. My good Lady Kingston assured me that I would sleep well should I take enough wine. But no, I refused. My head will be clear, and I shall walk with as much grace as if I were dancing to one of Henrys galliards infront of the Spanish Infanta herself. Fear shall be far from my thoughts, and all shall see that, and every person that stands upon Tower Green shall remember that. Anne Boleyn shall fall with as much fortitude as she lived, and her blood shall reign.
I die strong. I die a Queen. I die proud. For through my daughter, I will live on. And England shall never see a greater Queen, and all shall know that in my last dream, I saw a future so great, that none shall ever forget.
The drums roll and the blade cuts through the air with a swish of such clarity, that in that straw I see not my blood, but the golden promise of an era yet to be realised. Straw that is the very colour of my Elizabeth's locks.
Muse: Anne Boleyn
Fandom: Anne of the Thousand Days/The Other Boleyn Girl/Various Historical Works & Source Material
Word Count: 515
I do not shiver, and my steps are strong and proud. I walk towards the scaffold with the dignity of true nobility. My head is held high, and the gift of the sun's rays shields the faces of those I do not wish to gaze upon. For all are here, what choice have they? My own father and uncle, they shall watch as the pawn of their blood, who reached far higher than even they had imagined, shall come to her end. But I am no pawn of anyone, my initial move may have been at their push, yet as I strode boldly forwards, Bishops and Knights fell at my thirst. The pawn was no longer theirs to guide. For in that game I became Queen, and not one regret do I have.
Golden straw scattered afore me awaits the spill of my blood. The freshest of newly dried grasses reflecting the hope of a spring sun that has never seemed so blinding. And I am grateful for it. There is no chill to make me quake, the block is warmed by its kindly caress as I lay my neck upon it, and its golden glow is as rich and bright as my Elizabeth's hair. For with the drifting scent of the flowers of May and the glorious warmth of the sun's spring promise, the power of my ambition is truly born.
For through my dreams, there is true reason for this end. My blood will be well spent, and my Elizabeth shall be Queen. I have seen for myself. She will rule a greater England than any King can ever have built. Elizabeth, child of Anne the Whore and Henry the Blood-Stained Lecher, shall be Queen!
I had thought to dream of hopes of a son, the desperate wishes of a woman clinging to her life's regret on her last evening. My good Lady Kingston assured me that I would sleep well should I take enough wine. But no, I refused. My head will be clear, and I shall walk with as much grace as if I were dancing to one of Henrys galliards infront of the Spanish Infanta herself. Fear shall be far from my thoughts, and all shall see that, and every person that stands upon Tower Green shall remember that. Anne Boleyn shall fall with as much fortitude as she lived, and her blood shall reign.
I die strong. I die a Queen. I die proud. For through my daughter, I will live on. And England shall never see a greater Queen, and all shall know that in my last dream, I saw a future so great, that none shall ever forget.
The drums roll and the blade cuts through the air with a swish of such clarity, that in that straw I see not my blood, but the golden promise of an era yet to be realised. Straw that is the very colour of my Elizabeth's locks.