A short one-shot about Anne Boleyn's thoughts the night before her death.
The Thought of Death
I sat alone in my dark prison over looking where I would die tomorrow. The only light in my room came from a lone candle sitting on a dusty old cabinet. There was an eerie silence. The only sound came from the soft snore of the guard outside my door.
Was it really my fate to die tomorrow? Had I fought tooth and nails for seven years to only be married for three? I laughed at that sometimes. The courtship had lasted longer than the marriage. Now Henry had turned against me after a thousand days.
A thousand days. I could remember them all in emotions. Happiness, sadness, frustration, anger, betrayal, hurt. That was how I remembered them all.
Sadly, the only happiness left from those thousand days was Elizabeth, my darling daughter who would never know her mother because of her father who signed my death warrant without a second thought. My poor little girl who would hear of her mother dying by a sword for the rest of her life.
She would become a bastard like Mary. I would be shamed like Katharine; my marriage would be declared false. I would be called a cunning witch for eternity; my name would be blackened, while Henry's would be glorified for killing the evil witch.
Oh Henry, my miserable husband, my once passionate love. He had fought to win me. He had fought with spades to marry me. He would kill me with one tomorrow. How could he have been so foolish as to believe those lies about me? I could have never slept with another man. I loved him. I loved only him.
Was this my punishment for taking Henry away by Katharine? Was this my karma? I thought of the irony. I had been the one to take Henry away, and now someone was stealing him away from me. I should have seen this happening. If he could leave his faithful, loving wife of twenty-years without so much thought, why wouldn't I have had reason to believe he could easily dispose of me?
As I sat alone at the edge of my bed, the air hanging over me, chilling me to my core, making my bones feel brittle, I finally understood Katharine. She had not fought for her marriage only; she had fought for her dignity, for her place, for her daughter.
I sometimes wondered if she had ever forgiven me. She was a pious woman, maybe she had founded in her heart to forgive me as she lay on her deathbed.
Death. The thought of death toyed in my mind. I pictured it to be a peaceful sleep until the end of time. A place where there was no pain, no feeling of hatred. Sometimes I was glad I was dying, I was ready to leave this world. Then I remembered Elizabeth and cried.
I had become hysterical over the last few days. I was laughing about death one minute, and then I would be crying over it the next. It was strange knowing how you would go. It affected you mentally.
I got up and paced around the bleak room. There was nothing left of Anne Boleyn, I thought gloomily, she is no longer the proud queen she used to be. Now she was just the lady in the tower condemned to die.
This was one of those random one-shots that just pop into your head as your daydreaming during class and you know you just have to write them down before you forget. Anyone else also get these feels? Lol, anyways I hoped you enjoyed it! (:
owls-and-asters