& @semperanneboleyn 23 november 1559 | just after the pageant presentation
Meg's role in the pageant had been carefully chosen; it seemed natural that she take on the part of a companion and favorite of Artemis, as it echoed her position in relation to her mistress, but if one looked deeper, they would strike gold. Though Lady Welles was not as outwardly ferocious as Cyrene, the Thessalian princess turned nymph and queen, she carried in her breast a deep tenderness for and desire to protect those she loved, to defend them from any evil that might befall them. The obedient and soft-spoken girl known to the court had disappeared on the stage that evening, replaced by a warrior who slaughtered a raging lion in an expertly choreographed scene, at the end of which a sash of red was added to her costume, the blood of the slain foe. In those moments, Meg had transformed; she had devoted her body and mind completely to the role in which she was cast, ecstatic to express herself in a way very rarely allowed to a young lady of the court. She left the stage refreshed, as if she had, in a way, been reborn.
A fresh goblet of wine was pressed into her hand immediately, and Meg nodded her thanks before taking a sip. As she did so, the Queen of Hampton Court and Olympus alike appeared before her; a costumed affair suited Anne Boleyn, as Meg had heard it had in days of yore. She bobbed a curtsy and offered a bright smile to the woman whom, despite the princess' protestations, she considered to be a second mother. "Are you enjoying yourself, Your Grace? I see the Earl is taking to his role quite nicely. Oh, how exciting this evening is!"