Lady In Waiting Rewritten: Chapter 1

Did you look back on the old Lady In Waiting chapters and go: wow, this is awful! Introducing the rewritten chapters of Lady in Waiting! The same plot you love but now it’s bearable to read and the continuity makes sense! Enjoy!

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Anne was tired. She had been helping Her Highness try on dress after dress and yet none had fit her. The princess’s recent pregnancy had left her wider in both hips and waist. Anne thanked the Lord that she had not been stuck with the job of the tailor. The princess was irritable as could be and the realization that her slim figure was thickening into that of an older lady horrified her.

Anne had never seen the issue with old age but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut about it. Back home, being thicker meant that you were well off. It was a sign of good health in her mind but clearly the nobility had different ideas on how they should look. Anne clearly remembered the first time she had seen the princess’s closet. The rows of dresses with careful embroidery and jewels had sparkled in the candlelight. She had felt her heart skip a beat just thinking about the price of one, let alone the dozens that hung from the walls, and now they had to all be tailored to fit again.

The dress fittings had resulted in Anne being stuck in a plush carriage led by two of the king’s finest stallions with an extremely irritated princess and a handful of Ladies-in-waiting. 

Anne was very tired and very frustrated so when the violent twang of an arrow rang out, she didn’t scream like the others. She simply gave a sigh and wondered if quitting would result in execution – or, worse, a tantrum.

The guards gave out their battle cries but were swiftly cut off by a loud thud.

‘Maybe our captors will kill me. If so, they’d better be quick about it. Laying in my own  blood seems so unnecessary,’ she thought.

A young man with shoulder length brown hair yanked open the carriage door. He was dressed in a white flowing tunic and worn leather pants stained with various blood spots. His left hand was missing the ring finger and was wrapped around a well-kept knife.

The princess screamed, setting off a chain-reaction of panicked pleas. One of the other Lady-in-waitings, Jane, attempted to escape by pushing past him. Barely moving, the man shoved her roughly back inside. The girls stopped screaming, their eyes locked on the knife that had been pressed against Jane’s chest.

“Try that again,” he said calmly, “and I’ll cut off your hands.”

The carriage was silent. No one dared move, frozen in fear.

The man smiled, all gums and teeth. “Now then, scootch over. We have much to discuss.”

His voice was higher-pitched than most of the men Anne knew and was smooth like the finest silk. In another life, the ladies may have fawned and preened over him for weeks before moving onto their next target. They were strange like that.

The man climbed into the already stuffed carriage, carefully pushing Jane’s sprawled limbs out of his way and taking her seat, which sat directly across from the princess. He promptly slammed the door shut and the fallen girl rushed to remove her legs from its path.

“Hello there, princess. My name is Henry and unfortunately for you, I don’t terribly like your father. You and all of your ladies are now my prisoners.”

The way he said it was cocky. It wasn’t aimed to convince them, it was a cockily factual statement. Anne wasn’t tired anymore, Henry had peaked her interest.

This would be far more interesting than dress fittings.