Author's notes: This is set sometime after Episode 6 of Season 2, when Anne has already started to lose it a bit, entertaining crazy fantasies of Henry's "harems" and having nightmares of Mary burning her. If you are an Anne fan, be warned, this story is not a happy one for her.

Warning: contains slash

In The Dark A Glimpse

It was dark and damp in the passageway as she walked, and she drew her coat a little tighter around herself, shivering with the cold and the knowledge of what she was about to do. Her footsteps were echoeing hollowly inside the small space, the torch casting flickering shadows on the grimy brick wall. Years ago, when she had first learnt about this secret passageway, she had sworn to herself never to come here again. She had found the entrance quite by accident one day, hiding behind a tapestry during a silly and forbidden game of hide and seek in the halls, when she was still a lady in waiting to Katherine. It seemed so long ago now... almost as if it had happened in another lifetime altogether. Her life had been easy then, she now knew, even if she had thought differently at the time. A foolish young girl, too confident of her own abilities, thinking if she just did it right she could be on top of the world. Without many cares in the world she had been, compared to the worried woman she was now. At night, when she was supposed to be in her bed, she had snuck out and returned to explore behind the entrance. And found a whole system of passageways winding through Whitehall Palace like a maze. Perhaps built by Wolsey, that old sneak, when he owned and renovated Whitehall. Or perhaps by someone before him. It did not matter. She had been much more carefree than she was now, but she had never been foolhearty and even then she had known how dangerous it was to be here. After all, who knew who else knew about these passageways and might be lurking in them or secretly watching the entrances?

So Anne had sworn never to use them again.

Now Nan walked ahead of her with a torch in her hand, lighting the way, anxiously looking back now and then and Anne had broken her oath. Despite the dangers she knew the opportunity these passageways offered was too tempting for her to ignore any longer. Because there was one place here where the passage ended in a wall with a spyhole looking into a certain room. And that was a room she desperately wanted to look into.

They did not speak as the walked. The dragging of her coat on the dirty floor, the sputtering of the torch and their footsteps were the only sounds they made. Nan was afraid, she knew, but too loyal to her to turn back. Anne herself felt a strange calm spreading through her now that she knew she was nearing her destination – a calm she had not felt in weeks, even months. But today, after all the insecurity and worrying and panicking she would finally find out. If she was honest with herself, it had become a sort of obsession for her to find out who his mistresses are, where he keeps them, what he... does with them. It stole her sleep, made her restless and unhappy. Not a single hour of her day passed without some crazed thoughts and fantasies entering her mind. Just the thought of Henry with another woman let her mind spin into a tangled mess of desperation, jealousy and grief for her lost love. Just the thought was almost too much to bear, but not knowing who his women were makes it even worse and she couldn't stop thinking about it. If they weren't nightmares about the Lady Mary, her dreams, sleeping and waking were all haunted by visions of Henry with naked, faceless women. In her head she made up endless combinations and versions of who they were, how they looked and it was driving her mad. She could not rest until she had faces for them, names, secure knowledge. Then she would feel better.

The irony of it all! For her to be this madly jealous... it had never been supposed to be like this! She had never planned to fall in love with him and she suddenly snorted a bitter little laugh about it into the silence of the passageway. The sound made Nan start and stop in sudden fright, her eyes wide with panic like a trapped deer as she turned, before she realized there was no stranger there and the sound had come from her mistress. She breathed, relieved and Anne touched her shoulder, looking at her. It doesn't matter, Anne's gaze said. We are here. This is the place I remember.

She looked at the wall. Nan's gaze followed hers and she saw it too. She waited quietly with the torch as Anne stepped closer to the dead end of the passage and touched the damp wall, where the fire cast long shadows on a neat round piece of wood, hanging loosely by a single nail. Behind it, she knew, she would be able to put faces to Henry's faceless women. The moment had come. Before she looked however, she hesitated on another long moment of bitter amusement at the irony of all of this. She had never planned to fall in love with him, she had just fulfilled her duty to her family, but it had turned into so much more. The pain wrenching at her heartstrings was so much more. And for the life of her she could not fathom how it had happened. Lately her uncle Norfolk's half-forgotten words often echoed in her mind "You would do well not to fall for your own masquerade, niece."

But she had fallen for it. It had already been too late for these words of warning. And if Norfolk or - God forbid - her father, knew she was here now, they would be enraged. But they weren't and they would never find out and Anne had to know, no matter if she should want to know or not! With sudden defiant determination she pushed the piece of wood aside, revelaing the little spyhole behind it. It looked right into the King's privy chamber, where she was sure he was with one of his mistresses right now.

The sound of her breathing seemed much too loud in her own ears as she pressed her right eye over the hole, her heart beating fast, her body trembling slightly. It took her a moment before she saw anything but glaring light. The first thing she saw was the fireplace and the fire there, then came into view Henry's elaborate clock on the chest at the far end, the table - and finally the two people sitting at it. Relief and strangely, disappointment, flooded her at the same time, when she saw that there was no woman anywhere in the room - it was just Brandon there with Henry.

They were talking and laughing, a little drunk on wine and looking happy. It gave her a painful jolt. She could hardly remember the last time, Henry and her had laughed at anything. They fought or they made passionate love, or discussed politics or shared pride in Elizabeth, but they never just laughed together about anything anymore. There was a wall of concerns and conflicts and accusations between them, that prevented their sharing of anything so carefree as a laugh. They were not Henry and Anne anymore, they were the King and his wife.

Brandon was relegating Henry with a story about his son, that made him roar with laughter and Anne stopped listening after the first few sentences. His words were unimportant and useless! She had been so sure Henry had picked another one of his mistresses to be with him now! Nan had told her he had openly flirted with a lady in the Great Hall, then he had left and Brandon had approached her. And she just knew Brandon brought him women. She had expected to find Henry with her now, but he wasn't! Why wasn't he? It made her irrationally angry not to find her suspicions confirmed. She had risked a lot by coming here and this was it now? Perhaps George was right, she mused with sudden relief and Henry did not have any mistresses after all... But no, she knew he had had mistresses before. And he was away so often and no one would tell her where he was and he had not come to her bed in weeks. There had to be other women. As if the betrayal was fresh, desperate frustration rose in her and as it so often did the familiar prick of tears was in her eyes. It was all made worse now, because she still didn't know who his mistresses were, when she had been supposed to find out!

It had been a mistake to come here. There was nothing to be gained from spying on Henry in the palace, when she had known all along that he must have some kind of harem outside. She should just go and find some other way to find out. Perhaps have someone follow Henry, when he rode out to his harem or bribe one of his close servants... But even as these thoughts ran through her mind, she kept looking and listening. Something in her wouldn't obey and leave and the next moment a thought occured to her.

Brandon was still talking about his son's apparently outrageous boyish exploits, to Henry's amusement and it struck her how relaxed and happy he looked. In her presence Brandon always wore the same expression of barely concealed dislike underneath a thin veneer of politeness. Here he wore no mask and that doubled her dislike of him at once. She hated him for being so close to Henry.

But she had always prided herself on doing things thouroughly, she never did things just halfway. There were things she could learn by listening, things other than finding out about Henry's mistresses. If she was here now she might as well use it to her advantage. She would have liked to get rid of Brandon for example. She had managed to get rid of More finally and had that not taken a long time! But Brandon was more difficult. More had dug his own grave in the end, whereas Brandon was much less a man of principle and much more one of opportunity. He wouldn't get rid of himself for her, which More for all his highly praised learning had been stupid enough to do. Maybe she could gain some leverage over Brandon in listening to their conversation just now. Henry had listened to her only once and banished him from court, after Brandon had told him about her and Wyatt. When she had asked, Henry had made it sound like he had banished him from court already, but she knew for a fact that he had done it only after she'd asked. Back then, not realising what that meant, it had made her feel so very powerful. The sway she had had over him was so great, a single question from her had been enough to make him send away even his clostest friend in a heartbeat! She and father had hoped that would be the last they had seen of Brandon, but it did not take long for Henry to want him back. It had been an unpleasant realisation, that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She had been careful about saying anything against him after that and father had even tried to get him on their side again when they were in Calais. He was too uncomfortably close to Henry not to have as an ally. But it had been no use and-

"I think I might have to look for a new tutor for him if he keeps running that one so ragged."

Brandon said loudly just now and her attention was turned back to the conversation.

Henry laughed. "My, I wonder were he got that from?"

"Not from me!" Brandon said with hands raised in mock innocence.

Henry gave an amused snort and leaning back, took a sip of wine.

"I seem to remember you got your ears boxed plenty by your teacher as a boy. Perhaps you might let his tutor try that on your son."

Brandon chuckled. "What use would that be? It never helped with me, did it?"

"No." Henry admitted with a laugh.

Anne snorted and thought Henry should be taking some of his own advice and have his daughter Mary's ears boxed for her behaviour! But he was too fond of her still, whatever else he pretended to her face and the thought of Mary made a wave of hate and desperation swamp Anne as it always did. She hadn't died of her recent illness like she and George had hoped, she was still a threat.

"Your wife is well, too?"

Brandon smiled proudly. "Throwing up every morning... but, yes."

His wife was pregnant again? Jealousy rose up in her, it always did nowadays when talk came to another woman's pregnancy. But it was quickly quenched by the satisfying thought that that new child of Brandon's at least would have no claim to the throne. Unlike his son by Henry's sister - or the Lady Mary.

"Ahh well, but a pregnant woman isn't the only one suffering, is she?" Henry said. "After all we men must look elsewhere when our women refuse to lie with us." These words gave her a stab of pain, when it was he who had refused to lie with her this past weeks.

Brandon only shrugged in answer, looking almost abashed, at which Henry roared with laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. "That I should ever see this day! You with a pregnant wife and refusing to take a mistress." He shook his head. "I honestly didn't think you could hold out that long, Charles." He sounded amazed.

Brandon looked troubled by something though. "Well, I didn't, did I?" he said quietly, looking away from Henry, regret and guilt in his whole posture.

Henry stopped laughing and sighed.

"Oh come now, don't eat yourself up, because you couldn't resist that one time. Besides what else are you going to do for the next 8 months or so? Become a monk?"

Brandon looked up exasperated, but Henry leaned forward and merrily teased. "How about that one, what was her name, the one I talked to earlier, with the red hair and dark eyes? Not even that one? Hmm?" He petted Brandon's cheek playfully and Brandon smacked his hand away.

"No. Leave me alone. I won't." he said, but he was involuntarily smiling at Henry's behaviour, clearly cheered up. Then he asked in an equally teasing tone "Anyway, I thought you wanted that red-haired one?"

That made Anne prick her ears and her heart start beating fast. This wasn't what she had come here for, but it was second best! If there was no mistress here with Henry, they at least talked about one! If she would get no face, then at least a name. She waited for Henry's answer with bated breath.

"Oh no. I'm in no need of a new mistress." he said with a smirk and a lewd glint in his eye.

So he did have a mistress! Or more.

"Really? You said you were getting tired of that one." Brandon pointed out. "And maybe her husband would appreciate getting to see her again, too. He must think by now he only dreamed that his wife was abducted by the King in the forest." He laughed, but she saw Henry's eyes flash at that and knew Brandon had gone too far. He recognized it too and lowered his gaze. "Beg Your Majesty's pardon." he mumbled.

Henry looked at him for a moment, then for some reason he seemed to feel abashed himself and instead of saying something, looked away and just took a sip of his wine. An awkward silence descended upon the room, during which Brandon drew invisible lines in some spilled wine on the table and Henry pulled at his collar. "Why is it so hot in here?" he exclaimed suddenly.

Brandon looked at him, then the fireplace. "Seems your new page put too much coal on again."

"Yes, that idiot still cannot do it right."

"Well, I'll see what can be done."

Anne almost let out a frustrated groan. Why were they talking about nonsense suddenly instead of Henry's mistresses! Brandon stood up, walked over to the fireplace, took up the poker and crouching, tried to beat down some of the flames, turning his back on Henry. As casually as if this were his own home and not the King's privy chamber. It angered her to see this. There were not many, if barely any people who would have dared behave like this, much less turn their back on the king, but Brandon was apparently completely comfortable. She turned her gaze on Henry and saw him intently watching Brandon. For a silly moment she thought he would take offense after all, but then she saw that his look was decidedly something other than anger. He looked... she couldn't quite decide what it was, but an unsettling feeling of foreboding came over her. There was something strange in Henry's gaze, something not right.

He got up and she watched as he quietly walked over to the fireplace and put his cup of wine on the mantlepiece. He stood beside Brandon, watching him as he scattered the coals somewhat in an attempt to quiet the blazing hot fire. After a while Brandon stopped, satisfied, let the poker clang on the bricks and looking up, said "I think it's-"

Brandon stilled completely, the comment dying on his lips. Henry had suddenly reached out a hand and touched his cheek, lingering there, even stroking a little. Time seemed to stand still for a breathless moment as she saw the two men, a shilouette in front of the fire, locked in this touch. Anne was speechless, not knowing what to make of this strangely intimate gesture. She watched, not comprehending what was happening. Brandon was returning Henry's gaze, a bit surprised, but not the least bit disturbed at his strange behaviour. Anne on the other hand had to fight down a sick knot that had begun to form in her stomach.

"Well, with a pregnant wife and no mistress, maybe I can do something for you..." Henry spoke now, softly. Then he let go, picked up his cup and walked over to the chair he had occupied before, sprawling into it.

Brandon stood up, his eyes following Henry with a sort of avid attention and Anne's mind was whirling. What had Henry meant by maybe I can do something for you? She searched his face for an answer to this mysterious proposition. He looked playful, raised an eyebrow and then slowly crooked two fingers at Brandon to come closer in an unmistakable gesture. Brandon swallowed, his lips parting and stepped forward slowly, but he looked like he knew what this was supposed to mean, unlike Anne who followed the happenings in the room with ever growing nervous disturbance. Somehow she expected Brandon to stop at an arm's length of Henry, but he didn't, he went right up to the King and then to her shock crouched down in front of him, bringing his hands up to rest on Henry's thighs, looking up. Henry slid a hand into the other man's hair and tugged a little, like he had done with her so many times before. A possessive, passionate gesture that Henry often used in their loveplay and that somehow always made her knees go weak. The recognition of it here, now, finally sent anxiety shooting into her stomach.

Brandon's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then they opened again and the two men looked at each other. There seemed to pass something between them, before Henry pulled Brandon closer, leaned forward and-

For a moment her sight failed her and everything turned blurry and grey as her knees almost buckled and spots danced in front of her eyes. She gasped, wanted to tear her gaze away, to unsee this, deny that she had ever seen this, but her eyes would not obey her. They were kissing. They were kissing like a man and woman kissed. With tongue and moans, slow and with tenderness. She had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming in shock.

Before she could even fully comprehend what she was seeing, Brandon broke away. Henry frowned, then Brandon said something she didn't understand over her own harsh breathing.

"Shut up," Henry answered huskily, with amused impatience. He said it in the all too familiar way and voice he used in bed, when he was eager to go on. She was his wife, she had heard it many times before. It made her reel, hearing him say something in this voice now. She clutched at the wall, thinking she crumble and everything that happened next seemed to happen very slowly as if she were under water. The word 'door' fell and Henry stood up and locked it, only to return and push Brandon into the opposite chair, reaching out to cup the back of his head once more, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Brandon let himself be handled like a pup by his master and when Henry drew back he looked up with an expression that came close to adoration. Then Henry kissed him again, with more force this time, Brandon returning it with abandon, and Henry reaching for the man's pants with his free hand. Disbelieving at the horrible sodomy she witnessed her gaze flicked between their faces and... what Henry was doing with his hand. It was something she had done to him many times, a daringly french technique, though not the most daring. She had kept him amused and interested with things like that during the long divorce and the frustrating abstinence she demanded from him. For a man to do this to another though... Brandon bucked and moaned so much, that she had the distinct impression this was a rare occurence. The thought swam to her slowly, but it was no consolation for what she saw. Henry drew back to chuckle at Brandon's eagerness, before he was urged to go on. She seemed to be standing outside her own body, seeing this as from afar.

She could not look away, her eyes registered all that happened in detail, almost against her own volition. She did not know how long she watched, it must have been some time though. Yet even when it was over, when they had... finished, she could not stop looking.

Henry looked smug and generous - as he always did when he had satisfied her and sipped some wine, watching Brandon, slumped in his chair, recovering. He was apparently proud of his accomplishment. It made her feel sick. She knew Henry took mistresses, that he loved other women. But this now... She must be dreaming, she thought. Surely this was just another one of her nightmares and she would wake up gasping in her bed at any moment now and it would all be untrue. It wasn't however. It got worse. Because Brandon now slid down between Henry's legs with a secretive smile. She watched, shaking, as he deftly undid buttons, eased aside cloth and then lowered his head to return the unnatural attention. Henry moaned and tipped his head back in a way so very familiar to her. And even in her shocked state she recognised that this was not happening for the first time. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness. Their touches, confident and languorous, spoke of intimate knowledge, of two people comfortable with each other's body. Brandon knew exactly how Henry liked it.

This realisation turned out to be too much finally She could not bear it anymore, she tore away from the spyhole, lightheaded, unseeing in the torch-lit darkness for several moments. Nan came into focus, looking worried and fearful and Anne felt her lip begin to tremble. She swallowed the sob that wanted to rise, then the sickness that quickly followed, verging on the brink of throwing up for several moments.

Nan took a step forward and opened her mouth to say something - to comfort her or perhaps ask a question. But the fear of being heard kept her silent, and Anne shook her head, as at last tears started to fall silently. She wiped them away angrily. Nan just looked at her with pity and tentatively put an hand on her shoulder. Anne knew she thought her distress was because she had seen Henry with another woman. She knew, with all her heart, that she would keep it that way. She wouldn't ever tell anyone what unnatural sins she had seen here tonight, it was too horrible to speak of, too much to contemplate.

Almost without conscious decision, she started walking, setting one foot in front of the other, wobbling like a drunk as she went, but walking faster with every step. She needed to get away. Away from the spyhole, away from the chamber behind it and all that she had seen in it. But as she walked the feelings of shock and desperation receded and gave way to a sort of unfeeling numbness. With it came clear, rational thought as if she were standing aside from what was happening to her, analyzing as a stranger rather than herself.

Perhaps this was not as bad as a mistress, she thought. After all Brandon could never replace her in the way a woman could, in the way she had replaced Katherine years before. He was no threat to her in that regard. Henry's affection for him had rankled her before, it hurt her much more now, that she had seen how deep it really was, but in the end she could assess that she had other, bigger problems than this. She had much worse things to worry about than this. She had.

She desperately needed to get Henry's affection back, to bring him to visit her bed again. Because she needed to conceive again, she needed a son. But she couldn't have one. And she was more and more convinced she knew why. What threat was a man like Charles Brandon to her - or even whole scores of mistresses, when there were still Katherine and Mary, alive and breathing and an eternal thorn in her side. God wouldn't give her a son until they were gone.

So even though Henry loved others and it broke her heart, she had bigger problems than Charles Brandon. She had.

But the tears came unbidden to her eyes again. And this time she let them fall unhindered.

The End

A/N: I always wondered about Anne's strange reaction in Episode 7 of Season 2, when she wanted to visit Henry and was told that he was out hunting with Charles. I also thought that the use of the plural in her comment to Henry after her second miscarriage, "It broke my heart to see you loved others." was interesting. So I decided to play on this and give the jealousy over Henry portrayed on the show between Anne and Charles a little more substance. *g*