Before Anne Boyeln, there was another. This is her story.
Scarlett, an orphaned, seventeen-year-old girl grew up on England's monarchy, tending the stables. Scarlett's gift of beauty soon becomes a curse as she catches the eye of the most powerful...
A month on and Tyson still seemed displeased as he gathered my cutlery to assist me in dining. "Scarlett, you are turning into nothing but bone." His expression was not one I would appreciate being accompanied by.
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"Though it may appear I have the body of a weak, feeble woman, I have the stomach of a King, a King of England too." I confidently spoke, digging my fingers into my chicken roast and beans.
Tyson stared at me in confusion. I wondered if it were my dark purple rims under my eyes that he could not tear away from. "Beggars can't be choosers I suppose."
In between mouthfuls I spoke, "Don't do this to me, Tyson, I'd rather be hated than pitied."
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"What do you expect from me, Scarlett? It is impossible for me to carry the heavy burden of discharging my duties and wanting to escape to the country, without the help and support from the woman I love," he whispered in my ear ever so softly, diminishing my body of desire with every tremble.
"I'm doing everything I possibly can. Being bedridden doesn't allow for much."
"I wish to make him shorter by the head." He stared off into his own pretence of reality.
"And how would you wish to do that?" I spoke after consuming a mouthful of wine, shivering in incredulity.
"Fight the bastard. Pierce his own gold dagger through his well-fed chest." Tyson coyly yet stalwartly murmured.
"Shh, my dear the walls have ears. You mustn't say such a thing, that is treason and you are no use to me dead."
"This battle you are going through, I can't, I can't-"
I grabbed him close and laid a soft kiss upon his shivering lips. "Do anything about it." I interrupted. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I'm telling the truth Tyson, shaming the devil. I love you."
Tyson paused for a moment, letting a slight smile appear, then continued pacing my trivial chamber. "Maybe he can care for you better than I can. Look at the poor job I am doing as of now. Not being able to protect you, support you; take you away from this perdition."
