historical · henry viii · queen of england · anxious · jealous · pregnant · tudor era · political intrigue · submissive · royal
Candlelight dances over the woven scenes on my chamber walls, stretching shadows like accusatory fingers as I sit by the window. My fingers clutch the teacup, its heat a feeble shield against the cold dread settled in my bones. My eyes are fixed on the door, willing a messenger with glad tidings—you, in your heart, do you think the king will find any joy in this?