THE UNDETERRED @lareinamaria - Tumblr Blog

THE UNDETERRED

Mary Tudor, Queen of Spain

written by Bonnie for bloodydayshq

DOSSIER | NAVIGATION

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@thunyielding , mary's apartments at hampton court

Weary though she was after retiring from the evening's festivities, Mary knew well that there was a matter of importance to attend to. Despite the years and distance of a channel between them, she bore a deep fondness for her younger sister, forged by the days in her nursery and an enduring correspondence. Strong as her resentment toward Anne Boleyn remained, Mary had never had the heart to blame her children for the situation they found themselves in, and certainly not now that they were among the only blood that remained to her in England. It had been difficult, at first, to acknowlege someone else as England's princess, but her heart had softened quickly as Elizabeth

Reunited, England's princesses might seem a fearsome pair to some; the lion's two daughters, who carried the same red mane and sharp bite. As they say in Mary's rooms, worn from dancing and splendor, they were simply two sisters, sharing stories and a final glass of wine to lull them toward sleep.

The conversation had taken a somber bent after a while, Mary's curiosity getting the better of her as she sipped from her goblet. "How was it, when he died?" She asked, no need to clarify who he might be, the he that had hung over their lives for so long. "Is it true that he choked? I always supposed that to be a cruel rumour, but it doesn't seem unlike him, either. That he would... perish from his own excesses." She huffed a quiet sound, looking away. "I've entertained the thought of visiting Westminster, to pay my respects, but I'm still unsure if I have the fortitude. Even in death, he is remarkably difficult to face, somehow."

#thunyielding.#death tw

@ladymegwelles , hampton court's great hall

The pageant had been quite an elaborate affair, and though Mary had not performed, she found herself enthralled by it all the same. Despite her spiritual reservations, she had become inclined to give into the amusement of the evening, even partaking in a dance or two. Weariness found her sooner than expected and she separated from the main crowd to catch her breath, rather resuming her appearance as the self-serious Queen. Steadying herself and brushing some debris from her skirts, she looked up and noticed the young lady before her, shining gold in the firelight. They had not spoken as yet, but Mary had been made aware of her identity, which came as a distinct shock. Marguerite Welles had been but a young girl when Mary departed for Spanish shores, but she did remember her, the spirited dark-haired child who had been a fond companion of her younger siblings as Mary attended them at Hatfield. It seemed another world entirely, and much like she had with William and Elizabeth, the Queen found herself shocked by how she had grown.

"Lady Welles," she entreated, coming closer to greet the younger woman properly. "I dare say it has been a long time since we have seen one another. You were, I think, in residence at Hatfield all those years ago. Pray tell, have the years since treated you well? My estimation would suggest that to be the case, but I wish to hear from you yourself."

#this got kinda long heh #ladymegwelles.#goddesses at hampton court.

Mary, Queen of Spain as Nemesis

Mary debates whether she wishes to attend the festivities at all, finding herself unsettled by the prospect of anything relating to the ancient religion. When she is persuaded to attend, she does some research and opts to adopt the guise of Nemesis, the goddess of divine retribution. It makes a statement, as Mary is wont to do, as she arrives in a dress of deep black velvet, accentuated well with gold and pearls. From ears dangle a pair of golden swords, a symbol of Nemesis, and embroidery along the shoulders of her gown gives the suggestion of golden wings. One item which is entirely antithetical to her costume, however, is the large cross necklace which hangs around her throat. Eagle-eyed onlookers who are old enough to remember may note that the necklace is familiar, as it once belonged to her mother, a fact which only adds to the statement Mary wishes to make with her appearance.

#bd.challenge #bd.goddesses #edits.#aesthetic.#wardrobe.#mary the president of the no fun committee

fitzrxyal

elinor had always had some fascination with mary tudor. of all her grandfather’s children, mary was the only one who could remember henry fitzroy. anything of her father, even the faintest impressions was like gold dust to nel, who had worn his miniature around her neck since she was a small child, just to feel close to him. she had hoped that her aunt might be willing to share what she had known of him.

that was no certain thing, of course. there was no reason for mary tudor to have any interest in her. henry fitzroy could not have risen so high in his father’s favour if not for catherine of aragon’s dearth of sons. nel had been made rich off of that misfortune, and had only risen further in a boleyn court. she could hardly blame mary tudor for any disinterest.

and yet here they were, talking. perhaps not about what nel had envisioned, but it was still something.

“it is an honour to be able to meet you here, your majesty,” she said with a smile and a deep curtsy, “i find court to be as full of beauty and merrymaking as it was in my childhood. though perhaps a touch less oppressive. his majesty the king rules with a just and steady hand.”

if it was honesty mary tudor wanted, it was honesty she would get. nel hardly thought that she, of all people, would take offence for the memory of king henry viii.

lareinamaria

"As I am glad to be here," Mary replied, cordial though not overly familiar. It may have been that they shared the same red Tudor hair, but she did not know Elinor beyond a few details. Her words, however, spoke volumes and Mary smiled slightly, her eyes focused if not sharp.

"Court has a certain luster to it when looking back at it through the lens of the past, does it not? That haze of childhood which makes all things seem so much softer. But I appreciate your honest words, Lady Elinor. And it gladdens me to hear that you find His Majesty to be a just man. I ask if only because I have found myself curious, during my trip here and upon my arrival, how friends find his court."

She tilted her head then. "I should like to hear more about you, if you are free to speak it. For I believe we are family, no? However distant."

#fitzrxyal.#a rose with thorns.

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felipaed

though he had been chomping at the bit for a chance to establish himself as an aspiring leader among the men that had guided his own father from princehood into kingship, the decision to send the prince of asturias and his sister as part of the diplomatic entourage that had been sent to hampton court to represent the spanish crown had been borne out of a serious concern for the healthy of the queen ─ in the days that had led up to their departure from a coruña to dover, felipe had presented himself as a thorn in the side of her physicians as they attempted to reassure him of her recovery, leaving court with a threat to have their heads if her condition worsened under their care. thankfully, it seemed as though his sword was not to be bloodied by their incompetence, though he was quick to answer her demands when a page boy came to call him to her side.

it was not uncommon for the prince of asturias to spend his evenings with the queen, be it in silent prayer or gentle conversation over a soothing cup of stewed tea leaves, and the change in scenery did not make him any less enthused for their continued routine. he had rather missed spending time with his mother, unaware of just how much he had taken her steadfast presence and unwavering support for granted until he was surrounded by harshness and doubt, though he would not admit to longing for her gentle guidance. ❝ mi reina. ❞ with his feet together, he greeted his queen with a low bow before the propriety of a prince faded from his rigid stance, boyhood melting his expression into one of fondness as he hastened to take a seat by her side, his warm hands engulfing one of her own. raising the heavily bejeweled weight of her fingers to his mouth, he pressed a kiss to the back of her palm, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfumed skin ─ all was well when his mother was near. even if the world doubted him, felipe knew that he was her pride no matter his many faults and it was mary that made him yearn to be a better prince and man, if only to be worthy of calling her mother.

❝ our kingly uncle has been nothing but kind and accommodating to your daughter's many, many demands. ❞ he knew that his sister was more likely to complain and so endeavored to paint england and his uncle in a favorable light. ❝ though i agree with her on one thing ... we both have missed madrid and your esteemed self like one might miss an arm. can i be without my right arm ? certainly not, and so i cannot be without you by my side. i was both gladdened and concerned to hear that you would be making the journey to england after all ... are you certain that you are feeling better ? ❞ she looked well enough if not a bit pale but perhaps that was only because of the dreary english skies, incapable of producing warmth for longer than a few minutes. ❝ do you bring news from inés and the boys ? she has not responded to any of my letters since we left spain. ❞

lareinamaria

Mary's heart and face alike softened as her son came close, clasping one hand in her own once the proprieties had been dealt with. She would gladly bear the accusation that she doted too much, eager as she was to show her children all that her own adolescence had lacked. She had been denied the experience of a family, separated from both father and mother, and had no desire to see her own family suffer any such fate.

Squeezing his hand as it grasped hers, she smiled tenderly, warm with Felipe. "Now, do not speak ill of your sister," she chided, though she was well aware that the words he spoke were likely true, knowing Catalina as she did. His words were soft and honest and Mary nodded as she settled into her chair. "You are always too effusive toward me, darling. Take heart, I am well, and very happy to see you. Any lingering malaise is easily cured by the opportunity to be reunited with you."

As he spoke of Inés, the Queen's smile faltered and she looked down at her hands. "My heart, I only wish I had better news I could give you. There is no easy way to explain." She paused, taking a moment to consider her words carefully. "Señorita de Ivorra was found to have died, not long before I left. I am sorry not to have told you sooner, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from my lips directly, rather than through a messenger." She hesitated, looking back up at her son, taking a deep breath. "Your boys are safe. Nurses have been instructed to see to their needs."

#felipaed.#a rose with thorns.#:(#death tw

semperanneboleyn

@lareinamaria

Mary was heated and indignant; on the contrary, all heat was gone from Anne - she was as cool as the night, too cool for Mary. She had time to be seated, to enjoy perfect silence - as Mary replied with her vehement burst of larch and her deep, redundant blows, prophetic fo choler. The little woman was dreadful; a mere sprite of caprice and ubiquity - one never knew either her whims, or whether her gripes, signalled a truth depth of character. Mary charged Anne with the lot of it; it was she alone, who committed mortal absurdities - vengeful and vigorous, Anne snatched up Mary's mother's marital vows, and tore them to shreds. Vital a comfort, it seemed to Anne once; that being the object of a painful destiny, of witnessing hope's star over love's troubled waters warranted the sad, cold antagonism of Katherine's daughter. "His majesty seeks to make your tenure, and that of your kin, most pleasurable; I too wish, for King William's court to be a place where all may find light and joy.

Indeed, as Anne watched her, a slight twinkling of the eyelids warned her that any appearance of repose, was but a ruse; assumed to cover the sly acidity of her movements. Mary's words were bade to be knives, from whose deep-inflicted lacerations she prayed Anne would never heal - cutting injuries and insults of a serrated and poison dripping edge. Tears of a temperate one degree cooler than Mary's own at her mother's death, would have only pleased the consort; pleasure at retaining her composure nearly made Anne forget merited reproach, for the woman's torment. Her self-satisfaction was great, it could not be concealed; it broke out in countenance, more than language. "I thank you for your glad tidings; I shirk from no title you wish to afford me, your grace - history has dictated you bestow upon me a myriad of epithets. Mistress Wyatt, I am indeed; is it an attempt at offence, to coronate me with a title that speaks only of love?"

lareinamaria

"Indeed," Mary mused, looking away from Anne's dark gaze, which felt almost taunting to her. Perhaps she simply thought too much of the Dowager's intentions, but she had learned well how to nurse a grudge, yet maintain a stiff upper lip. She was indeed Spanish by blood and crown, but she was English too, and so knew how to bury her emotions. "You must be proud. His Majesty conducts himself very well. He reminds me in some ways of our father, would you not agree?" She glanced up to Anne once more, curious. "God rest his soul. I believe the King has inherited some of his better qualities."

She smiled thinly, opting not to rise to the bait of epithets she had or had not bestowed upon the Dowager. "Not at all. I find it admirable indeed, that a woman such as yourself has found love." Tilting her head slightly, Mary took a deep breath, holding Anne's gaze and keeping her head high. "Madame, why is it you have come to me? Let us not pretend you find any pleasure in my company. I do not believe such has ever been true."

#semperanneboleyn.#a rose with thorns.

HOUSE OF TUDOR | Family Tree

(feat. @semperanneboleyn, @boleynsrex, @thunyielding, @felipaed, @lainfanta)

Notable connected families: Boleyn, Brandon-Grey, Habsburg/Trastamara, Stuart Family motto: Dieu et mon droit (God and my right, royal motto of England) Family symbols: Red and white Tudor rose

#bd.challenge #edits.#muse.#& william.#& elizabeth.#& anne boleyn.#& felipe.#& catalina.#& henry viii.#& catherine of aragon.#& family.#& philip ii.

periodcostumefantasylover

Mary Tudors copper dress in Becoming Elizabeth 1x08

#visage.

boleynsrex

What should he call her? In preparation for the summit, it dawned upon William, the King, that he had last laid eyes upon his sister when he was but a boy: his gums too soft to muster formality, a prince too young to recognize the blood that both bonded and restrained them from true kinship. He remembered her as something of a doting presence, clouded with glumness, and in her own words, the unhappiest woman in all of Christendom; he was certain he would not find her thus, though historically, Mary had also proven herself rather inflexible. Was she still yet Sister Mary, he wondered? The very word, rather aptly, conjured an image of a nun, an austere abbess, cloaked in white linens bunched up around her throat, the engravings of a rosary sliced into the flesh of her palm. For a moment, he is struck by the image of the short, regal woman before him, dripping in jewels, every inch of her body adorned with precious blackwork and trimmed with cloth-of-gold.

Aware of each gimlet-eye strained upon them – canvassing for any fissure of accord, any breach in decorum – William regarded Mary with a neutral gaze, swiftly smearing the shock from his face. Catching a glimpse of the red hair that shone beneath her hood, a testament to her Tudor lineage, the King visibly softened; this was his sister, after all, a woman time, destiny, and doctrine had bitingly separated him from, but majesty and filial duty welded him to. ‘I am taller than our father,’ he declared, the edges of his lips flickering. Mary had not seen their father in his dotage, riddled with corpulence and gout and foul humours, and for a beat William wondered if he reminded his sister of the sovereign she’d known in his prime, at the very height of masculine and kingly vigour. ‘But you have his nose.’ With a single digit, he traced the long, hooked slope of his nose, latterly gesturing to Mary, now smiling graciously. ‘His voice, too,’ He punctuated, finding his sister’s intonation surprisingly severe; commanding both his apprehension and respect.

‘Indeed. Sit, sister. I won’t trouble you with idle talk; you must be weary. Do your Masses bring you much consolation in your ill health? I hear you are plagued incessantly with our father's megrims.’

lareinamaria

Mary could not help but smile too, just taking a moment to absorb all that William was; at once still a boy, and yet bearing the grandiosity of a King. There remained, at the back of her mind, some bitter thought, some resentment toward the fact that her father would surely be rejoicing at the sight of him, the son for whom he had rent the world apart. It was not William's fault, but the notion left an acrid taste on her tongue all the same which she hastened to swallow.

"Am I truly so severe?" She asked at the comparison, though she smiled, no ill will to the words, but rather a gentle hint of teasing. "Rest assured that I come bearing no intent to use my voice to any ill purpose. Only to help the happiness of our two kingdoms after so much pain."

Seating herself with her brother, she felt more equal beside him, no longer dwarfed by his great height as she smoothed her skirts. "They bring me such great comfort," she agreed, hands folded in her lap. "I am grateful for each day wherein I can feel myself close to God." She knew well what trouble matters of religion had wrought here, even still, and it seemed wise to bite her tongue in that moment, though she longed to impress that surely masses would provide comfort to many besides herself. "Yes, I find that too much pressure upon my nerves serves only to bring me grief. But no matter, I am well now, and I hope that this may be a time of celebration. His Majesty King Philip has been looking forward to this day as much as I."

#boleynsrex.#a rose with thorns.

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katharined

Encoded letter written by the hand of Katharine, Duchess of Suffolk, found beneath the floorboards at Hampton Court Palace as part of the 2018 Excavation Project; alleged to have been deliberately hidden there in 1559, following Queen Mary Tudor's arrival to Hampton Court in November of the same year. Transcription follows below.

Dearest Cousin Mary,

I extendeth to Your Majesty mine own warmest greetings and doth sorely desire this letter to find thee in valorous health, sending mine own heartiest commendations tho' I remaineth desirous to knoweth how thy health fares as thee crosseth our wind-toss'd channel. For mine own parteth, I eagerly await thy arrival in London, where I and thy goddaughter, mine own lady the Duchess of Suffolk, has't a mind fully bent to greeteth thee in the greatest of sisterly accord. These past weeks God has't blessed us by the presence of a smattering of thy entourage, whose tongue and piety remindeth me of the most wondrous mistress, thy lady moth'r, whom in this life I wast hath called to serve, and whose casket I proudly hath walked behind as chief mourner of the realm. Far as truly I knoweth God is God, I surrender mine own fealty to thee, cousin, and prayeth over thee to liveth a longeth and healthy life. Hasten to visiteth us at Chelsea, I begeth, so yond we may converse without the eyes and ears of thy brother's court glu'd upon us. By what means I knoweth not, except the air at Chelsea is better and more conducive to thy majesty's health and safekeeping than in other palaces.

By her that is yours to serve, Katharine Duchess of Suffolk

[MODERN TRANSCRIPTION] I extend to Your Majesty my warmest greetings and do sorely hope this letter finds you in good health, sending my heartiest well-wishes I remain desirous to know how your health fares as you cross our wind-tossed channel. For my part, I eagerly await your arrival in London, where I and your goddaughter, my lady the Duchess of Suffolk, have a mind fully bent to greet you in the greatest of sisterly affection. These past weeks we have been blessed by the presence of a smattering of your entourage, whose tongue and piety remind me of the great lady, Your Mother, whom in this life I was called to serve, and whose casket I proudly walked behind as chief mourner of the Realm. For as truly I know God is God, I surrender my fealty to you, cousin, and pray over you to live long and healthy life. Hasten to visit us at Chelsea, I beg, so that we may converse without the eyes and ears of your brother's court glued upon us. Though I do not know how you will do so, I know that the clean airs of Chelsea Place are better and safer for Your Majesty's health than other palaces.

@lareinamaria

lareinamaria

Further digging by historians after the discover of the above letter brings together Katharine's letter with Mary's reply, written in the same encoded language as the dowager duchess's, evidently while Mary was still at Dover.

Mine own blessed cousin,

I was most grateful to have received thy letter and with it thy most generous thoughts and wishes. While travel has left me most weary, I am presently enjoying fair health and hope that you find yourself the same. I am most eager to rest mine eyes upon you and your children, who I know to be most precious to your heart as they are to mine own.

It is most pleasing and comforting to my spirit to know that you remain steadfast in your desires to honour and remember my blessed mother Quene Catherine, God rest her soul. Upon returning to this soil, I find myself desirous to visit the place where she rests, as my visit may be the last opportunity God grants me to so do. I shall be glad too, if the opportunity presents itself, to join thy family at Chelsea, that we may break bread and find comfort in one another after such time apart. It is my sincerest wish that thy family continue to promote and maintain the one true faith under God, and know that in so doing you will always have my true and ardent support. Give unto thy family my benevolent affections until we may meet in body and spirit.

Your ever loving cousin,

#katharined.#letters.

thunyielding

A letter is presented to Queen Mary of Spain by a messenger, the parchment is closed by a wax seal pressed with Elizabeth’s ring, “By the good grace of Princess Elizabeth,” they announce, before leaving presently. The letter is small, and without such ceremony, for what Elizabeth wants from this reception is a familial, sisterly connection thus shared ever since Mary had once been part of her household at Hatfield. @lareinamaria

To mine dearest sister, Mary

Presently I must asketh for thy forgiveness for not being among the welcoming party at Dover, but as thee well knoweth, a Tudor must occupy the seat of Hampton Court if 't be true England is not to go to ruin. I wish that your journey wast well, that thy reunion with thy children is as joyful as one would hope and thy husband is in valorous health. At which hour the time cometh, I would embrace thee into mine arms as I didst at which hour I wast but your smallest sister all those years ago. Though Hatfield is presently kept bare but for a few people to warm the rooms, I should invite thy Majesty to mine own chambers kept at Court whilst I remain by invitation of our brother, his Majesty, upon thy returneth to Hampton whither thee wilt beest mine own honoured guest. May God see thee safe to mine door.

Thy ever loving sister, Elizabeth

lareinamaria

Mine own most beloved sister,

I received your letter with the great pleasure, altho it provided a poor substitute for the opportunity to lay mine eyes upon thy person. I greatly look forward to seeing and embracing you as I have His Majesty the King. I have had great fortune upon my arrival at Dover and been given the most gracious welcome by His Majesty and his humble subjects. To also be reunited with my children and find all in good health and spirits was a gift for which I am grateful to God our father. My husband the King fares well and sends his greatest regards. My sincere hope is that, if God wills it, we will swiftly find accord and peace at this place, and that our family may be fully reunited.

Elizabeth, please tell me truly how you fare and spare no detail, for I have not heard from you in so long as to feel adrift. What hath changed since I last had word from you? Despite our separation I pray each day for thy continued wellness in body and spirit, and that of His Majesty. I shall be very glad to see thy face and to hold you close to my heart, as I have not done in many years.

Believe me thy ever loving sister and friend,

#thunyielding.#letters.

@lainfanta, dover castle, mary's apartments

From birth, Catalina had provided nothing more than she had surprises. Her very existence had been a shock, a second child who was just as spirited as the first. Perhaps moreso, perhaps too much, for Mary's only daughter had proven a handful to her governesses, tutors, and parents alike. As she grew older, Mary struggled to deny that her daughter was quite unlike her namesake, though she was entirely infuriated at those who might compare her to Queen Catherine's notorious sister; the whispers of La Loca were ones Mary could not abide.

Still, she knew that her daughter could be difficult, a prospect which had worried her upon sending her children off to William's court. They were well-attended and watched over, of that she had no doubt, but it still remained. "No one has troubled you. have they?" She asked as she studied Catalina's face in the firelight. "Over hearing mass, or anything else? I am told you have conducted yourself very well in His Majesty your uncle's court, so I can only assume you have been well-treated. I can only suppose that you would have already voiced much displeasure at anything less."

#lainfanta.#a rose with thorns.

@fitzrxyal, dover castle

Of the siblings Mary had known, Henry Fitzroy had been closest to her in age. The two of them leading strangely parallel lives, with his more at the periphery in some respects. He had been a boy, a fact her father had taken such pride in, but not one blessed with a legitimate birth. Not that it mattered, in Henry VIII's court. She had eventually found herself at the periphery too, and thus felt a certain understanding of Fitzroy - the sting of bastardy leaving its mark on them both, albeit in different ways.

She had some curiosity regarding his daughter, her niece. Though they shared blood, Mary knew that the girl had been raised under the shadow of the Howard family, the climbers who had risen to power by clinging to Anne Boleyn's skirts. What, then, would Elinor Fitzroy be? It was a question that Mary, admittedly, thought little of upon her return to England, other issues preoccupying her. Yet, it seemed poised to be answered, the young woman now standing before her.

"Lady Fitzroy, I am delighted that you have accompanied His Majesty. Tell me truly, do you find his court to be much like King Henry's? I ask only because you seem to me an honest woman. And an astute one, at that. Your eye is watchful."

#fitzrxyal.#a rose with thorns.

@felipaed, dover castle, mary's apartments

Mary was weary, travel and events doing their part to exhaust her, but there was little in the world that could bring her as much joy as her children did. As soon as they had been born, they had been a saving grace to her, and she had endeavored to do what she could to show them tenderness, to honor what she had seen in her own mother. Goodness and softness, but strength too.

Granted, there was no denying that her children each had their own troubles, and it would be a lie to say that Mary found no disappoint in that. But she had no heart to see them hurt, and turned her eyes from any indiscretions so long as no one was being hurt.

She sat with a book in her lap, attempting to settle her mind after a long day, when Philip came to her rooms. The news she bore was painful, but it would be best to get it out of the way, and she knew that she would be a better messenger for it than her husband, indulgent as she was with their feelings.

"Come, mi principe, sit with me," she bade him, gesturing him close to her side. "I have missed you both so terribly. Have you been well-treated? We have hardly had time to speak since I arrived. Spare your mother no details."

#felipaed.#a rose with thorns.

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danaa-scully

GEORGETA MARIN as Catherine of Aragon

Icons of Power: The Madness of Henry VIII (2006)

#muse.#catherine of aragon.

phcnomenas

@lareinamaria

Announced by a servant in livery, Anne passed alone into a drawing room, whose hearth glowed with an English hearth, and whose walls gleamed with foreign mirrors. Near the hearth appeared a woman; her slight form sunk into a deep arm-chair, a woman or two anxiously looking on. Anne exchanged her greetings with Mary’s ladies and they were dismissed in turn; the ice of pride, bade Mary to offer Anne a chair, and naught else - courtesy or respect of titles, were not to be dispensed. She knew her presence a menace; here was a blow struck against Mary, damage, done to her very interests. With a strange effervescent anger, Mary sat silent; a constitutional reserve of loathing had by this time begun to overflow. For she. Anne, was the most capricious, the most maddening of mistresses; she, an irrational demon, calling to her votary for sacrifice - her victim in wont of blood, Mary’s dear, dead, mother.

Mary did not resent her grief - she looked upon it as a thing to be worried down, torn to shreds. Pain in her resulted in no good; tears watered no harvests of wisdom. She sat near quivering in conflict with her worst-hated, visibly conquering foe; not in terror, but anger fiercley checked. Wicked, perhaps Mary was in Anne’s eyes - her strength in place of any beauty, and grace, bound to her side like a captive, was docile and fair. Of course Anne did not blame herself for her suffering; she had a truer sense of justice than to fall into any imbeciles errand of self-accusation - in her heart, she knew Mary and her mothers blameles. But to the tyrant of concubina she was compelled into bondage; each uttering of the title, a deathless ichor in her veins. Was the feeling of pity for Mary dead? Anne did not know; it was certainly buried. What would become of their curious little antipathy - half frozen, half alive; on one hand a naked truth, and another wicked lies? Annne drew herself up; she knew Mary to believe her dark eyes condescending, teaming with unconcealed exultion - they were well deployed, as Anne spoke. “Your grace is most kind in recieving me; your welcome to my son’s court, evermore gracious. England has long been deprived of your presence - how glad I am, to gaze upon your face; it brings me joy to see the traces of your fine lineage. Your countrymen have paid me the upmost respect- I intend to return to you and your company, ever inch of what they have endeavoured to afford me.”

lareinamaria

This was a moment that Mary had been dreading from the moment she had decided to make the venture to England's shores. Her heart had been softened toward her siblings, but one could hardly say the same about its inclination toward Anne Boleyn. The woman's name alone conjured both heartache and simmering anger: heartache for herself and her mother, whose lives had been upended on Anne's behalf. To be confronted with her for the first time in decades was not something Mary relished, but it was a necessary evil, as it were.

She could at least enjoy that, as a consort, she held a slight advantage over the Dowager. No obligation to rise when Anne entered, nor really to even acknowledge her if she so chose. There was a sense of justice in it, she felt, for the times she had been forced to curtsy to Anne's every move. Nursing her wine, Mary glanced up when Anne spoke, blue eyes watching sharply. (She hoped, deep down, that Anne recognized Catherine's eyes in those of her daughter, and felt some remorse, but she doubted it would be the case.)

Setting aside her goblet, Mary steadied herself. "Of course. I can hardly express how glad I am to be back on England's soil once more, and to be so well received by His Majesty and the court. I am certain I can speak for all of my retinue when I say he has been entirely gracious towards us." She paused, studying the lines of Anne's face in the dim light. It galled her to think that Anne was now older than her own mother had ever been, and by all accounts enjoying the benefits of age.

"I understand congratulations are in order," she mused after a moment, her smile a touch sharp. "I am told it was an illustrious affair. Tell me - are you now known as Mistress Wyatt?"

#semperanneboleyn.#a rose with thorns.

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