OOC: Follows THIS THREAD.
Surely, Henry thought to himself, there were some men in the world who had the freedom even during their weddings to find a quiet, secluded moment with their new brides to begin the wedding night early. Those men, however, were not the King of England and those weddings were not feasts attended by three hundred nobles, courtiers and attendants.
The great hall of the palace had reverberated with the sounds of revelry from the moment he and Anne-- the soon-to-be Queen Anne-- had returned to Whitehall from Westminster Abbey. Preparations had begun the week before, and the royal household staff had never rested, all working to fulfill Henry's insistence that the celebration of his wedding was an occasion of the most joyous sort. He had told them that their King and country needed for their people to be happy, that they were marking a new era.
Sitting at the great table, the King and his wife had received their well-wishers and Court. Henry had given his new bride many smiles and words of praise and encouragement, as loudly and clearly as he could. From the reactions and the words of those around him, it seemed Anne was being well-received as intended.
As happy as the circumstances were, the night seemed interminable. After many dances, after poetry written in his and Anne's honour, after a line of reception that must have been nine miles long, the King was becoming clearly frustrated. At long last, though, there were no more people to receive, no more music and he and Anne were free to retire.
Henry and Anne were escorted back to the royal chambers. The King glanced at the guards stationed outside the door, who gave him curt nods. They had been firmly and repeatedly instructed that the couple were not to be disturbed except for the greatest of emergencies, and only then by either Cardinal Wolsey, Sir Thomas More or Mr. Cromwell.
The heavy oaken doors closed behind Henry, and he heaved a great sigh of relief. All fatigue faded and his tired expression broke into a wide, hungry grin as he regarded Anne.
"My lady wife...?"
Surely, Henry thought to himself, there were some men in the world who had the freedom even during their weddings to find a quiet, secluded moment with their new brides to begin the wedding night early. Those men, however, were not the King of England and those weddings were not feasts attended by three hundred nobles, courtiers and attendants.
The great hall of the palace had reverberated with the sounds of revelry from the moment he and Anne-- the soon-to-be Queen Anne-- had returned to Whitehall from Westminster Abbey. Preparations had begun the week before, and the royal household staff had never rested, all working to fulfill Henry's insistence that the celebration of his wedding was an occasion of the most joyous sort. He had told them that their King and country needed for their people to be happy, that they were marking a new era.
Sitting at the great table, the King and his wife had received their well-wishers and Court. Henry had given his new bride many smiles and words of praise and encouragement, as loudly and clearly as he could. From the reactions and the words of those around him, it seemed Anne was being well-received as intended.
As happy as the circumstances were, the night seemed interminable. After many dances, after poetry written in his and Anne's honour, after a line of reception that must have been nine miles long, the King was becoming clearly frustrated. At long last, though, there were no more people to receive, no more music and he and Anne were free to retire.
Henry and Anne were escorted back to the royal chambers. The King glanced at the guards stationed outside the door, who gave him curt nods. They had been firmly and repeatedly instructed that the couple were not to be disturbed except for the greatest of emergencies, and only then by either Cardinal Wolsey, Sir Thomas More or Mr. Cromwell.
The heavy oaken doors closed behind Henry, and he heaved a great sigh of relief. All fatigue faded and his tired expression broke into a wide, hungry grin as he regarded Anne.
"My lady wife...?"