January 25th, 1533.
I am Anne Boleyn, and I am not yet married. But soon, very soon, Henry VIII, King of England, will make me his wife. It has been a long courtship, these seven agonizing years, since he pursued me at Hever. I at first did not wish to become Henry’s mistress, but as the years passed, it became clear he would not take no for an answer. I was brought back to court, after my banishment at Hever, to serve Katharine of Aragon, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, whose names still strike admiration and fear into the heart of every European even years after their demise.
It became obvious to the queen, however, that my return to court was merely a cover for the lusts of her husband. I was not his mistress and did not yield, but Katharine did not believe that. She herself knew of the king’s desire to me, although I knew she blinded her eyes and looked the other way, even while continuing to fight. No one believed that Katharine of Aragon, daughter of their most Catholic Majesties of Spain, would be set aside for a merchant’s daughter. Even I myself am truly wondering, will the king marry me? He has spoken of his love for me these past seven years, but until 1531 it was Queen Katharine who remained at his side.
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