@cfboleyn
Anne’s nature had always caused her to gravitate toward those who were exemplars of culture. She craved it, really - the stimulation of lively talk and activity far outweighed any of the other merits of a royal court. While her preference would always lie in the halls of French palaces, she was pleasantly surprised to find similar companionship in the English hall - though in many cases, they were people who sported much French influence in their manners.
Anne Boleyn was one stunning example. She had been vaguely familiar with the woman’s name, but coming to meet her in person was an entirely different matter, and a fast closeness - dare she call it friendship? - had emerged between the two Annes.
She sat beside the Englishwoman as they dined one evening in the Great Hall - the average night feeling nearly lackluster in comparison to the recent Valentine’s celebrations, but she would not complain, instead sipping her wine and looking about the room, judging
“Tell me, my dear lady - do you think you should ever return to France? I think that we would welcome a woman of your caliber to Fontainebleau with the most open of arms.” She set her cup aside, warm. “Though acquired in unhappy means, you have a freedom now, non? You and I are alike in that way - no men that can hold us down to any spot on this earth.”
