Disclaimer: I don't own any rights nor make any profit of this story. All rights belong to J K Rowling and the producers of The Tudor.
The end was approaching. All Anne had wanted to say had been said. She knelt down and looked out among the crowd. So many familiar faces had come to see her final breath, to see her ultimate destruction, after she had been blamed for many of Englands wrongs over the past few years. How soon they would realise that she had surprisingly little to do with the changes. True, she was no angel. She had caused many problems but she regretted them thoroughly. Now she was little more than a scapegoat.
As so many men from court stared at her with smug little quirks of their lips, she couldn't help but wonder which one would end up here next, who else would fail Henry in some way, and be deemed a traitor. Personally, she hoped it was Cromwelll. She knew that he was to blame for her situation now. How she wanted him to pay.
Anne took one last glance around and saw dear old Thomas Wyatt stood near the back, tears streaming down his face, his heartbreak over her death clearly worn on his sleeve. Her heart clenched as she questioned how different her life would have been had she allowed her heart to go out to him. She took a moment to wonder at the decisions that had ruled her, and the many mistakes that had been made. Should she have fought harder for Henry Percy? Should she have loved Wyatt, or not argued with Cromwell. What would have been her fate had she consented to be Henrys Mattress-en-Titre? What about that letter? The letter that had quickly been burned in the fire, never to be talked about again. It wasn't long after that, before she was quickly shipped off to get a proper education, first in the Netherlands and then in France. Would that have changed her life? No matter, that was the past. There was no future for her.
She closed her eyes and started to pray, waiting anxiously for the final blow. Though she was supposed to be praying her mind kept bringing up the image of the one she loved most in this world. All she could see was how scared she had looked the last time she saw her, after witnessing that awful argument. Anne kept hearing Elizabeths childish pleas, wanting to know why her papa was cross, why her mama was crying. After a small reassurance from Anne, she had calmed down and said goodbye, before toddling off with her governess. How young and innocent she was. Her Elizabeth would now be alone, with so few a people willing to stand up for her. She could only hope that Henry would not be too unkind and cruel to her.
Sudden movement brought her back to reality. When somebody touched her Anne glanced up and realised that the executioner had moved a small piece of her hair out of her face. What was supposed to be a kind gesture had unnerved her. He stepped back and her eyes followed him, searching for the sword. She couldn't see it, hidden as it was, so she forced her head forward for a few seconds before turning her head again, nervous that any second now she was going to be executed. She fought to keep her head forward, her breathing quickened and she felt herself panicking losing her composure, wanting it to be over but at the same time dreading it.
"Boy. Fetch my sword," was the call from just behind her. Her head swung around looking for the sword, wanting to see the instrument of her doom but could see no boy, save the young son of Brandon, who stood there with a mixture of awe and terror across his face. Realising this was a trick, she felt a small tear escape down her cheek. She saw near the walls of the tower a flock of birds take off and she watched them, marvelling at their freedom. Then she heard it. The sound of air being rapidly sliced through. Before she could react she felt a blow to her neck and followed by blinding agony, such as she had never felt before. The pain though quickly disappeared and everything started fading, the feeling of falling from a great height overcoming her, she fell into darkness.
A/N: I hope to update fairly regularly , but have no set schedule so could potentially be weeks between posts. Please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors.
