#henry was not going to marry anyone besides anne and certainly not another royal from charles' family

[fideidefenswhore]

I do find it weird how KOA and Jane S stans have a sort of alliance, like it's the same side with one goal. Which is? So the Jane stans make out she respected/idolized K so much and took good care of her "little girl" and the K stans kind of give their blessing to Jane x Henry like they speak for KOA and know that's the kind of replacement she'd respect. Like if she'd outlived AB she wouldn't still be super insistent that she was his only wife? Or that Jane and Mary would. still get on when Mary v Edward started up. It's like they know it's not realistic but feel pretending it is good optics?

Right, I have always found that weird, too...you think Katherine would have been okay with it just being another of her ladies-in-waiting (that she seemingly had no connection to/with) that replaced her as Queen and was Mary's stepmother? Bold.

Yeah, I think it's honestly just vibes/aesthetic or living in the sort of...well, it was a bubble, or rather a brief stint in time of relatively rosy relations between them (although that's...exaggerated, for sure, Chapuys seemed to believe the promise by Jane for Mary to visit court was delayed because Henry wouldn’t do it until after Jane’s coronation, that clearly was not the case, it seems like it was an afterthought at best by how long it took to come to pass, she also doesn’t seem to have heard from them/received letters from them often), time couldn’t tell any differently, because Jane didn't get to be a mother for very long, sadly. I've said this before but it's likely if Jane lived most of them would hate her for supporting her son/'s claim over Mary/’s, just like they hate AB for doing the same for/defending her own daughter/’s.

[deborahcastellano]

[The Rules of Exile] Rule No. 10 You Don't Get to Be My Last Great Whatever

Queen Catherine of Aragon was sent into exile because she had the nerve to be aging and menopausal.  A popular legend in that particular histo-mythic cycle is that Henry sent her away (sometimes, with Cromwell to do his dirty work for him because that was the kind of stand up guy he's remembered as) without saying good bye.  She was once married to his older brother Arthur in a castle in the wild but Arthur got sweating sickness and died.  They were only married to each other for a short time.  She then had her first encounter with exile where she lived somewhat modestly (again, accounts vary depending on the histo-mythic teller) and supposedly bargained for fish and sold her plate while her dad and her ex father in law dawdled over what to do with her.  Her father was a war monger with a bunch of kids, he had no problem waiting.  Her ex father in law held his country in a tight fist, he had been exiled so many times by his mother (Lady Margaret Beaufort) that he too could wait.  Neither appeared to find this particularly cruel, and neither did a seasoned politico warrior like Lady M.  Like . . .I get stressed out not knowing what's going to happen in a day while still being aware of certain potential outcomes.  I don't know how stressful it is to not know what country you're going to live in and/or who you'll be married to.  Queen Cat's ex father in law drops dead and she is married off to Henry for almost twenty years when she receives the message, u had too many ded babies, lulz.  super soz.  going 2 marry anne bc babies + she is way hot.  she will only put out if i put a ring on it. thx for nearly twenty years of marriage!  Best of luck or whatever.  Or, you know, no message past whatever Cromwell tried to piece together.  Whatever the medieval royal equivalent of dipping out of a pack of cigs was.

She died in exile a little into Queen Anne's reign, with only a few of her ladies and servants.  Sometimes the wheel (of fortune) is in your favor, sometimes it's not.  It was for a long time for Queen Cat, but then she never planned for Queen Anne. Partly because I don't think anyone, even someone who had headed a battle with Scotland like Queen Cat did, could have planned for Queen Anne.

Sometimes, the hardest part of exile is the people we have been exiled from.  Either by our choice or theirs (sometimes both).  Parents, siblings, friends, lovers, spouses, family, whole courts if you are particularly un/lucky and everyone else is either on the other person's side because they tell a better version of your story than you do or you weren't much beloved to begin with or the other person has too much power over the others for them to rise up for you.  Even Mary, Queen of Scots usually couldn't get the North (of England) to rise up for her and she was hella glam and hella Catholic (appealing traits to her target demo).

There is nothing more painful than this part of exile, Sister Queens.  It's too soon for revenge because you will not be thoughtful enough or have the means to plan that properly.  Your heart is a wasteland and everywhere you go, you know everyone knows something about you but you can only guess at what.  During this time often, your position at court has been forfeited, your rank and title is called into question along with your deeds and those still associated with you, your goods are often seized and people now consider if they would like to associate with you because they will be associated with you.  This has ever been the struggle, even in this modern life as (often) landless Queens - at work, in your family life, in your social circles, in your creative life and in your spiritual life.  A boss has turned against you, a break up that causes a fracture in your circles, side choosing over social issues, scandal and gossip that you were involved in.  To bring it down real low (like reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllll low), Vicki on Real Housewives of the OC is currently in exile due to her exboyfriend Brooks who was involved in a cancer scandal that she was at the very least, complicit in.  In turn, I'm positive that she was not only exiled from her realty television faux friends, but also likely saw repercussions in her business and in her professional career, at the very least.  Possibly within her family and social groups as well because even though everyone knows reality television isn't particularly real, it's hard to know where that shred of truth in the lie resides.

How do you survive in that trying time when the people in your life are choosing alliances?  How do you survive when a lover has played you false and now is flaunting their new whatever for all the world and you to see?  How do you get through when you have been exiled from your coven?  How do you go on when your coven exiles you?  What do you do when an event or social group that once loved you has turned against you?

A note, to a Sister Queen who has recently felt the sting of exile from an ex-lover:

As you know, my thought process on these kinds of events are filtered through figuring out patterns and lessons and possible and probable outcomes because that's just so my world view.  While I certainly take some time to reflect before moving on, I find that the Universe (with me) is generally like, Here's another whatever you just lost.  Fuck that guy.  So I'm at a point in life where I trust that will happen in a reasonable time frame.  But another core part of me (besides grudgingly trusting in the Universe) is like, Fuck.  You.  You don't get to be my last whatever.  You don't get that kind of power.  You don't get that kind of power over me.  I will replace you because I can replace everything and I will burn everything in the process if I have to.  Every.  Thing.

Obviously, if you know me at all, you know I value those in my life, but I also know that everything has a season blahblahblahturnwhatever.  Everyone could die, everyone could leave, every relationship could break, every event could end, every group could break apart.  So, like, when you know that and you've been through that a few times, you value what you have when you have it but you also have in the back of your head what you would do if you lost those things.

In terms of practical advice, I would suggest you branch out and try to find other events/groups/lovers/friends and to figure out what part you played in your own exile story (as that is a key factor) so you can mend what you can mend and move forward in a better direction with finding new wishes, hopes and dreams.  Talk to trusted advisers for their opinions of the events that led to your exile, figure out a game plan to get yourself back to court or deeper into exile, whatever your preference.  I will forever be Lady Jane Rochford to my complete despair, she managed to get exiled from court during Queen Anne due to being her sister in law (and testified against Anne and her brother George, claiming they were sleeping together, leaving them both beheaded) but when she was offered a position back at court two Queens later, she jumped at the chance and that's how she lost her head right alongside Queen Katherine (yes, another - this one was sixteen and sleeping with boys her own age, how dare she).  I can't stay away from the game, not like Lady Mary did (Anne's sister, Henry's former mistress - she married a nobody and stayed in the countryside where it was safe and died of natural causes and possibly boredom).  I am forever working my way back to court and onto better courts.  If you read me, that's probably you too.

Fine, we have you settled into fixing your situation practically.  Now let's get to the exciting part.  The part that requires sorcery.

A Spell to Reclaim Your Queenship

Items needed:

Myrrh

Charcoal, lit

Fire safe container

Fresh flowers (either picked or bought)

Floral wire

Floral tape

String lights or electric candles

two bowls

Rose quartz crystals

handful of dried lavender

Chalice

Sacred liquid to drink

Salt water

a candle, offerings

Tarot deck

Potential goddesses: Your own goddesses (which include ancestors and spirits, obvi). a historic queen you admire, St. Elizabeth of Portugal, Mary Queen of Heaven, Diana

If you've ever bothered to read my book, you know that planning your ritual is key.  Where will you have it?  Why?  What will you wear?  Why?  What day/time will you do it?  Why?  Who will you work with?  Why?  What does your crown mean to you?  Why?  What flowers are sacred to you?  Why?  What liquid is sacred to you?  Why?  Which Tarot deck will you use?  Why?  There are no wrong answers, only lazy answers.  If you are not being lazy, you are not wrong.  You know when you are being lazy.

Arrange your electric candles or string lights into a circle big enough for you to do your work.  Pour salt water into one bowl.  Arrange the lavender and rose quartz into the other bowl.  Arrange your small shrine to your goddess(es) along with the candle and offering.  Ask for her/their blessing to guide your hand during this work.  Use words that are meaningful to you.  Pour sacred liquid into chalice.  Put the myrrh on the charcoal.  Anoint yourself with the smoke.  Wash your hands, your third eye and the top of your head in the salt water.  Then, say:

I am Queen over my own body.  My body is sacred.  I am Queen over my own spirit.  My spirit is sacred.  I an Queen over my own mind.  My mind is sacred.  I am Queen over my own heart.  My heart is sacred.  I am Queen.  I am sacred.

Start making your floral crown.  If you are like me, you have literally spent more than half your life making them and have taught diy workshops on the matter.  This is no big deal.  If you're not like me, watch the Youtube video in the link and maybe do a practice one first.  Spend the time making your crown singing songs that are meaningful to your Queenship, trancing or meditating on your Queenship.

Rest your crown over the bowl of rose quartz and lavender.  Put your hands on your crown.  Repeat:

I am Queen over my own body.  My body is sacred.  I am Queen over my own spirit.  My spirit is sacred.  I an Queen over my own mind.  My mind is sacred.  I am Queen over my own heart.  My heart is sacred.  I am Queen.  I am sacred.

Touch the crown to your navel, your heart, your throat and your forehead.  Put the crown on your own head.  Repeat:

I am Queen over my own body.  My body is sacred.  I am Queen over my own spirit.  My spirit is sacred.  I an Queen over my own mind.  My mind is sacred.  I am Queen over my own heart.  My heart is sacred.  I am Queen.  I am sacred.

Hold the chalice in your hands.  Focus on what you want to bring to yourself.  As a sacred Queen, I won't want for . . .(love, strength, compassion, abundance, and so forth)

Drink what's in the chalice.  Thank your goddesses for their presence.  Draw a Tarot card.  That is your omen for your work.  Reflect.  Hang your crown over your bed and put the bowl of rose quartz and lavender next to or under your bed.

***

Please feel free to share pictures of your work, thoughts about your work and aftermath of your work where ever you read this.

xxx

[strangedreamings]

Between Me and Home, ch 3, first draft

Okay, folks, since I am currently beta-less, I need someone to tell me how to make this chapter better. I’ve been fighting with it for days and now it’s time for someone else to look at it. Please, be as vicious as you can, it’ll make the final draft that much better.

Tagging @sobeautifullyobsessed and @glitterkitty4ever

Just before sunset, Richard drove the Jag to the Tower of London. Despite the considerable number of people who still called for Henry to have a proper royal burial, his body lay in a simple grave in the woods on the edge of the property. At his mother’s insistence, Richard had paid for the headstone himself. A penance for a sin I don’t regret.

Several yards from the grave, he sat down with his back against a tree and waited. It wasn’t long before the chill made his muscles ache even more than usual. Silently cursing himself for not bringing some wine to take the edge off, he kept his eyes on the back of the headstone and waited.

Over an hour after sunset, he woke from a light doze to the sound of leaves crunching. The full moon came out from behind a cloud, revealing Anne standing in front of the grave, a torch in hand. Her brown leather boots were ankle deep in fallen leaves, dark blue jeans encased her shapely legs, and her brown hooded coat concealed the rest of her from him. Despite the danger of being out at night, she was completely alone and, he knew from experience, unarmed. She is far too trusting. Silently getting to his feet, he watched her kneel then he had to hold back a groan when she pulled back the hood. Her dark brown hair was pulled away from her face in a loose bun, leaving her already wet brown eyes in full view. Anne pulled a fallen branch from the headstone and replace it with half a dozen Lancastrian red roses. Richard rolled his eyes over her display of House loyalty.

“Damn that man,” she muttered darkly. “He is lower than the most vile, disgusting creature I can name. If he ever marries, I wish his wife nothing but misery. Oh, who am I kidding? No woman on Earth could want such a man.”

Richard liked to think of himself as thick-skinned after so many years of hurtful words from family and strangers alike, but Anne’s words cut him deeply. With a scowl, he pushed his feelings aside. It’s nothing I didn’t already know. Taking a deep breath then pasting a pleasant smile on his face, he moved out of the deep shadows of the trees and into the moonlight.

Anne groaned quietly when she saw him. “Speak of the devil.” He started to move closer but she quickly rose and held up a staying hand, glaring at him. “What in the hell are you doing here, Richard?”

“Waiting for you.” He came closer, stopping a couple of feet from her. “Hello, Anne,” he greeted her softly. “You used to call me Dick; that name only sounds right coming from you. I’d give anything to hear you call me that again.” Wait, where did that come from? Oh well, I suppose a truth amidst the lies makes the lies more believable.

“Never,” she said, her voice ice-cold. “You’re not the boy I knew. You’re lawless, faithless, merciless... God, even an animal knows pity.”

He smirked. “Never let it be said that I am an animal.”

“Finally, he speaks the truth,” she muttered. “I thought you had forgotten how.” Her cheeks were flushed and her brown eyes glittered.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.” Another truth. If I don’t stop this now, I’ll be pouring my heart out to her like some lovesick fool. “Dearest Anne, I just need a moment of your time to explain myself.”

She clenched her hands into fists. “There is nothing you could do or say that would make me forgive you for killing my entire family.”

“I didn’t kill Ned.” A blatant lie and she knows it.

“Oh! My mistake! Here I thought I was a widow.”

He groaned quietly. “What I meant is that my brother killed Ned, not me.”

“Don’t lie to me! Margaret saw you kill him!” She was shaking with fury then she took a deep breath, then another. After she calmed down, she asked, “Will you at least admit that you killed the king?”

He sighed heavily. “Fine, yes.”

She looked back at the headstone. “He was a good man, he didn’t deserve such a death.”

Richard laid a hand on the stone cross. “Too good for this world, so I sent him to Heaven.”

She looked up at him. “A place you’ll certainly never see – you’re bound for Hell.”

He leaned closer. “There is one other place I’m meant for.”

“Prison?”

Richard deepened his voice, murmuring, “Your bedroom.” She stared at him like he’d slapped her and he knew he’d gone too far. Deciding to try again, he said, “Isn’t the person who inspired the murders as much to blame as the murderer?

The look in her eyes was doubtful. “Who could have inspired you? I would think your own blind ambition was enough.”

“Your beauty inspired me, Anne,” he murmured. “It invaded my dreams. I would kill anyone just to spend an hour in your arms.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “If I actually believed that, murderer, I’d scratch my face to ribbons.”

“I could never allow that.” He took her hand. “It’s unnatural to hate the man who loves you.”

She snatched her hand back. “It’s natural to hate the man who killed my husband.”

He raised a hand to her cheek. “What if he did it so you would be free to find a better man?”

She waved his hand away. “There’s no better man alive than my Ned.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “You must be joking, Anne. It was an arranged marriage, you only met him a week before the wedding, then you were married all of five months – you barely knew him. There’s a man who loves you more than Ned ever could.”

“Who?” She looked as though she dreaded the answer.

“Me.”

She spat in his face.

Good aim, he thought, wiping away the spit with the back of his hand as he reigned in his temper. “Why would you do that?”

“You deserve much worse,” she said coldly. “I wish it were venom instead.”

Richard grinned. “You are far too sweet to be venomous.”

“And you are viler and more toxic than any toad. Get away from me! I’m getting ill just looking at you.” She turned away.

“And I become ill if I don’t look at you. If you can’t forgive me, then don’t hurl your insults at me – your lips were made for kissing, Anne, not cursing.” He knelt before her and she turned back to him. Pulling his stiletto from it sheath, he offered her the handle. “Take my knife.” His hand trembled slightly, but he attested that to the physical strain he was under, certainly not nerves.

She took it, gripping the handle tightly, her expression gravely serious.

He opened his coat, unbuttoned his shirt, then pulled aside the collar of his undershirt. “Kill me, if you feel it is the just thing to do, but know that you are killing the man who loves you.”

Anne looked at the knife in her right hand then she held the tip to the index finger of her left. The needle-sharp tip pierced the skin and a drop of blood oozed out.

Richard’s eyes widened slightly. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure this isn’t a bluff.”

He took her hand then brought the finger to his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. “Don’t you trust me, Anne?” he murmured then he took her injured finger in his mouth, sucking on it.

She snatched her hand back then held the knife to his chest like he’d urged her.

Richard grinned. “Don’t hesitate. I admit it, I did kill the king and your husband.”

For a moment, he honestly thought she would go through with it, so strong was the hatred in her eyes. Then she shut her eyes, dropping the knife, and took a step back.

Richard picked up the knife and held it out to her again. “Kill me or marry me, Anne. Those are the only two options left for us.”

She glared at him. “For God’s sake, stand up, Richard. You deserve to die but it won’t be by my hand.”

He held the knife to his chest. “Then order me to kill myself and I will.”

“Put that damn knife away,” she said quietly. “You’re not dying because of me.”

He did as he was told. “Then you’ll marry me?”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“But you’re not saying no either. I need you, Anne.”

“What you need are heirs. You can have those with any woman.”

“Fine, yes, I need heirs, but I also need a companion, someone to stand by me during the day and lay beside me at night. You are the only person who could fill that role.” He removed the ring from his left little finger and held it out to her. It had been his great-grandfather Edmund’s – a gold diamond men’s ring from the early 1920’s. “Please, agree to wear this ring.”

She swallowed hard. “I accept your ring but I’m not giving you my heart.”

“That is enough, for now.” He took her left hand and slipped the ring onto her ring finger. “My ring surrounds your finger the same way your hand holds my heart. Will you do me one favor?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Accompany me to Westminster.”

“Richard … we can’t marry tonight.”

“I mean the palace, not the abbey. I might as well tell my family before we do anything else. The idea of another royal wedding should make my mother almost happy enough to forget it’s me who is getting married.”

“Aunt Cecily still hates you? I would have thought she’d mellowed by now.”

“That woman will hate me to her dying day, then she will hate me beyond the grave. Please, Anne, come with me. I’d rather not face her alone just now.”

“Alright... Richard, promise me one thing.”

“Name it.”

“Promise me you’ll never lie to me.”

“Anne…”

“You lie to everyone, even yourself. You need one person in your life you can be truly honest with. I want that person to be me.”

“I will … consider it.”

“Thank you. What about my car?”

“I’ll have Catesby get it in the morning. He always complains I don’t give him enough to do.” He tried hard not to jump when she took his good hand, the torch in her other hand as they walked away from the grave.

She thinks I’ve reformed, that I’m a good man. Ha! This is a marriage made for the divorce courts. Now that I’ve made a woman who hated me agree to marry me, I know I can do anything. The crown will be mine.