Work Text:
i.
She does not lose the baby, and no one is more surprised than she is herself.
The pain is so dreadful, and the blood, God in Heaven but there is so much of it!
But she does not lose the baby. This is the first of Anne’s victories as Queen.
ii.
Her second victory is reminding Henry just how fond of Madge Sheldon he is, and confining him to a sweet, pretty mistress who will report his every word back to Anne. It had taken hardly any effort at all, just a nudge at the right moment and an extra cup of wine or two.
He is so easily led, and sometimes, Anne wishes she could not see his flaws so clearly.
Reminded of Madge’s ample and, more importantly, available charms, he is quick to forget the Seymour bitch, at least for now. Later, after Anne’s son is born, she will deal with the girl properly, but Madge is sufficient distraction for now.
iii .
A third victory-
“I wish to speak with Lady Mary,” she says. “Have her brought to me, please.”
The girl is red-faced, with anger and with fear in equal measure, and her curtsy is a stiff thing, belying the grace Anne can see runs down to the girl’s bones.
“I am carrying your brother,” she says, “who God has saved already from loss - can we not be reconciled? Can you not use some of the love I know you bear your sister to attempt some forgiveness of me?”
She does not need the girl’s forgiveness, but there is so much of Henry’s pride in her that this seems the best way to appeal to her.
“Elizabeth loves you more than anyone in the world,” the girl says. “As much as I loved my lady mother.”
The high colour in her face fades, and she looks very small, and very sad.
“My mother is gone,” she says, “but it still hurts me to know how some hated her. Perhaps, for Elizabeth’s sake, I could- I could try.”
It’s hardly a victory at all, really, but it is so much more than Anne dared hope. It will do.
iv.
“Jane Seymour,” whispers the pretty little slip of a girl Uncle Norfolk sent to wait on Anne, “has been sent home, Majesty.”
Kitty, a little blonde thing with a kind but simple heart, is Anne’s greatest asset, because she hears absolutely everything but repeats it only into Anne’s ear.
“And her brothers?”
“The younger one lingers,” Kitty whispers, “but Sir Francis Bryan is here, and they have become friends, and everyone says Thomas Seymour is a dolt, anyway. But the dangerous one is gone home, Majesty. They are all gone, save for stupid Thomas.”
V.
“Edward,” Henry asks, “or Henry?”
“Edward,” Anne says without looking away from her son’s little red face. It took just barely over a day, sunrise until the following early morning, and the baby is hers before he’s Henry’s. She’ll be damned before she names her boy for the father who almost caused her to lose him, and that, as much as his very existence, is her most important victory, as Queen.