"A Moment before Midnight"
Work: The Other Boleyn Girl by Philipa Gregory
Characters: George/Francis
Genre: General
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Does it count as slash if they're lovers in the canon? Refers to incest and adultery.
A/N: I did a bit of research about George Boleyn, and read that most of the accusations made against him are now generally accepted as false. However, the book presents evidence that some of them are truthful, and I base the content of this story on what Ms. Gregory has written. Don't yell at me for misrepresentation -- otherwise, please feel free to review and tell me what you think of my writing. Enjoy!
"What time is it?" I asked, my eyes closed.
"Nearly midnight," said Francis. "Six hours, give or take, until dawn, if you're counting."
"Six hours," I echoed. "Well, I suppose we're lucky men to spend our final six hours in one another's company."
"Very lucky," Francis agreed, taking my hand in his.
"Extraordinarily lucky," I said, turning my face upward to kiss him. It was meant to be a quick buss, but he drew it out into something deeper and more languorous. When our lips parted, I shifted so he was holding me comfortably in his arms.
"Imagine," I said thoughtfully. "Committing one crime to die for another – or in my case, several others."
"You'll be saved at the last moment, George," Francis said soothingly. "You know how the king loves his drama. You and Anne will be spared, exiled but alive."
I looked up into his tired eyes. "Don't fool yourself, love. He'll spare Anne – maybe. I matter nothing to him; there is always another courtier or diplomat waiting to take our places. The time of the Boleyns is spent, short-lived as it was," I sighed. "And of all things, he charges us six with adultery. Adultery, as though he never spread the legs of a married woman!"
"Some of are adulterous," Francis pointed out. "All of us, in fact, except for young Smeaton, I think. He just got infatuated with your sister at an inopportune time. Yes, at least the king managed to hit the mark in a few cases, regardless of how groundless the accusation: we are adulterers, just not with Anne." He paused. "Well, except you, perhaps. You never gave me a plain answer: did you?"
"Of course I did," I said, speaking of bedding my own sister as if it were a trivial matter. "She needed to give the king an heir, and the fat fool simply couldn't get the job done." I smiled wryly. "I can say anything I like about him now... can't get into any more trouble than this." Francis didn't say anything. "We're Boleyns," I told him. "We do what we have to. A lot of good it did us, though."
Francis was silent for a moment. Then, "I don't think any less of you because of it."
I found his hand again and laced my fingers with his. "That's nice to know." A quiet minute passed.
"I wonder if the lovely Miss Seymour will be staying on the throne for long," Francis commented calmly. "If the problem really is with the king and he can't get her with child, I wonder if he'll keep denying it and get himself yet another wife."
I exhaled sharply in disgust at the man, no better than a spoiled little boy, whom I had once served. "Ironic, really, that the only woman who bore him a son was his little whore, his little partner in adultery, my dear Mary. Dear Marianna, I shall miss her. The only Boleyn with any sense in her head."
Francis smiled. "I never did say that I loved you for your common sense. You're just such a nice bedfellow that I can't help myself."
I laughed, oddly enough, and my lover joined me. The guards outside the door must have wondered what madness had overtaken their prisoners that they would laugh so, the sound like the clear peals of bells, as if in defiance of their own death knells.