I am currently writing a book about Anne from Anne’s perspective and would love to know what you guys think? I’m not 100% about it but it is only a first draft 🙂 This is a section from the beginning, I’ve written bits here and there at the moment so its not put together very well lol!

January 1522

The flames lick at my bare feet. I try agonizingly to ignore the scorching heat as I stare relentlessly into the eyes of my accuser. I see nothing but his eyes, blue and cold, piercing my soul with revengeful spite. I panic as I realize my fate, my heart is racing, my senses quickening. I breathe heavily as smoke burns my throat. I try to cry out but I make no sound. I am overcome with pain. I feel the flames in my face, my skin tightening in the heat, I cannot breathe, but I do not die. I wish for death to come soon, and pray to God to dispatch me quickly. Suddenly, I am consumed by darkness…
Finally I manage to shake myself from my nightmare, a dream I have suffered almost nightly since childhood. I know nothing of its meaning, yet fear it is an omen of some impending misfortune. I lay in bed a moment, letting my heart steady itself. My eyes open reluctantly, focusing on the darkness of the small room.
Gasping, I hurry to the window to get some air. The moonlight dances on the glass, stinging my eyes for a moment. Looking out onto the beautiful gardens of Greenwich Palace, I feel so very alone. I am to join Queen Catherine’s ladies tomorrow, a great honour, for I hear she is a most gracious mistress. Yet I cannot help but wish I was back in France. I was glad to see my family again, but the reunion, as I expected, was bitter sweet. After all, Continental Europe had been my home since the age of twelve! My father had been sent by his Majesty King Henry VIII as English ambassador to the Netherlands in 1512. So impressed was he, that upon his return in the spring of 1513 he sent me off for my formal Education there. I joined the court of Archduchess Margaret, daughter of Maximilian and Regent for the future Charles V. The palace of Mechelen was so very beautiful, built in the classical style and filled with the elite of Europe, the most educated and artistic courtiers I had ever met. Margaret herself was a woman of great intellect, great strength and a formidable character. We were encouraged to learn many languages and to appreciate the arts, especially poetry and music. I spent much of my time in her library, studying the wonderful books she possessed. Margaret was also an able politician, proving to me that women were just as capable as men in all spheres of life. I was determined to make my father proud, learn all I could and return home a polished and virtuous lady of good reputation.
After a little over a year in Margaret’s care, I was abruptly sent to France directly, to aid communications between the King of France, Louis XII and his new, much younger wife Mary, sister of Henry VIII. Her beauty was renowned throughout Europe, but I found her rather spoilt and ill-humored. She and I did not grow fond of one another, and when Louis died two months after they were wedded, I saw it no great loss that Mary did not request my services upon her return to England. She had, most imprudently, married her brothers favorite, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, two months after Louis’ death. I found her behavior most disreputable and Mary knew it.
I wrote immediately to Margaret telling her of my predicament, who secured a place for me in the Household of Queen Claude, wife of the new King of France, Francis I. It was here I have spent the last six years, perfecting my education, not only in religious and theological subjects, but also in marriage. Everyday I saw poor Claude treated like a breeding mare. Plain and pious, Claude spent much of her time with child. Francis showed her little care, and it was here that I decided that I would allow no man, be he my husband or otherwise, to treat me in such a manner. No man will ever command me.
Still, I grew to love France, I thrived in its brilliant, stylish culture. I perfected my French speech, till I no longer spoke English as a first language. I learned to sing and dance, and play instruments with great skill. But most importantly I learned how to use my sexuality. Instead of hiding my slender figure in the English and European fashions, I flaunted it in French dresses. I grew my dark hair so long I could sit on it and showed it off in a French hood. I learned to use my large, black eyes to command my feelings with such effect, I found men almost spellbound.
I was never blessed with great beauty. That’s not to say my features were badly matched or My older sister Mary used to tell me as a child I was far too scrawny, bug-eyed and sallow to find a good husband. Mary was honoured with our mothers fairness, and men loved her and she them. I on the other hand, like my younger brother George, was blessed with our fathers intelligence and while Mary found comfort in men’s arms, I found it in books. But now, as a maid of 20, I have come to realize the power of femininity, and I hope it will help find me a good match!
Sighing, I reluctantly resign myself back to bed. Tomorrow will no doubt be stressful, my only hope is that the Queen likes me. My only reservation is that my sister Mary is currently the King’s very public mistress, having no scruples to spare the feelings of her majesty. I hear Queen Katherine is very beautiful, and being the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile, I imagine her a rather formidable character. Trying to stifle the nervous nausea I feel burning in my stomach I close my eyes once more, hoping my nightmare will not emerge again tonight…
“My lady it is time to rise! Your father is waiting for thee!” My maid Margaret told me while shaking me from my slumber.
“Oh my! What time is it?” I asked panicking.
“Why, its just past dawn.” She responded, quickly preparing my wash basin.
Jumping out of bed, I was shocked by the coldness of the room.
“Mistress you left the window open! You mustn’t do that, you will catch your death!” Margaret commented.
“You know me sweet Margaret, I have the constitution of a man!” I responded laughingly.
“Margaret, fetch me my black dress, I hear her majesty likes black!” I called, while washing my face in the warm water Margaret had prepared.
“Which one madam?! Most of your dresses are black!” Margaret asked, hurriedly riffling though my dress chest.
“That one!” I replied, pointing to my favorite dress. It was of black velvet, in the French fashion, decorated with pearls and rubies, set in gold. The matching sleeves were white, lined in brown fur.
Looking at myself in my dressing mirror, I couldn’t help but notice the black circles round my eyes.
“How would you like your hair miss?” Margaret asked while combing it aggressively.
“I swear you toss and turn more than anyone I have ever served, your hair looks like a birds nest!” She tutted.
“I will wear my matching French hood. I cannot abide that awful English hood, it looks ridiculous.” I giggled.
“Aye, but its also considered far more…respectful.” Margaret snapped.
“I will wear one, when I’m required!”
Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
“Anne?! Will you hurry up! The king leaves me little time for anything else, I am on borrowed time!” Father shouted though the door.
“Coming Sire!” I yelled back, adjusting my headdress and checking myself in the mirror.
“Will I do Margaret?” I asked.
“You look beautiful as usual!” Margaret answered faithfully.
Laughing, I left the room, to be faced with my fathers stern expression.
“Your late.” He reminded me.
“Very sorry Father.”
“You will be. The Queen hates ladies who are not punctual.” He told me as we rushed though the countless winding corridors of the palace.
“Here we are!” Father stopped abruptly outside Queen Catherine’s chamber door.
“I am ready!” I responded excitedly.
As he opened the large heavy door, I waited expectantly, hoping to cast my eyes on a Queen most praised for her beauty! In the dark room, filled with glistening holy relics and statues, I saw women sat about in silence. There was a small flurry of movement here and there, but many women sat still, blending into the rooms sumptuous décor. Father brought me to a large window, where I saw her majesty for the first time, sitting there sewing. I was rather shocked by how she appeared, for this great Spanish princess was overweight and aged! Her bodies groaned about her, forcing her into a barrel shape. On her head she wore a English hood adorned with all kinds of precious jewels and pearls, hiding her hair. Her face was prematurely wrinkled, no doubt from the stresses of court and the childbed. In fact, I hear she has, over the course of her marriage with Henry, lost 8 children to God! With one surviving child to her name, a princess named Mary, she has failed in her duty as Queen to produce an heir, and with Henry’s throne already unstable, it is not any small wonder why she seems so unhappy.
“Your majesty, may I introduce my daughter Anne, straight from the French court to serve you.” Father said, bowing low, myself copying him with as much grace as I could muster. Katherine turned to look at me, casting her cool blue eyes upon me with great judgment.
“Welcome Lady Boleyn.” Katherine responded with a thick Spanish accent. Her voice was deeper than I expected, formidable in its tone. I felt awkward as she continued to stare at me, as if I were a threat, no doubt comparing me to my sister! How I hated to be compared to Mary!
“I will serve you faithfully your majesty.” I said, speaking without permission, but looking to the floor with all due humility and respect. I wanted it to be made clear that I was not like my sister! The Queen looked away, and continued sewing in silence. I withdrew and found myself a seat in the corner. The silence was deafening, not at all like the French court so full of life and music! Picking up a lute I began to play quietly, my fingers barely plucking the strings. The other ladies shot looks at me, and then at one another.