Hello to you all! Ok this is my first attempt ever (and maybe the only one) to write a "The Tudors" fic, in fact is my first not X-men attempt of fic, but I really really love this show and the idea of writing some fic inspired on it has been on my mind for quite a while, so here I go... please feel free to say anything, I want you to know that English it's not my first language so I'm sorry for the possible mistakes. The main idea is the following: ten years after Anne's dead, Elizabeth receives a letter written by her mother from one of her ladies-in-waiting, she tries to remember the mother she loves but doesn't remember and so she decides to talk with her father, the King. Please R&R!!

This is pure fiction and is based on 'The Tudors' show, not History facts... after all I don't know much about the Tudors dinasty apart from Henry and his six wives mostly popular facts. My favorite character is Anne Boleyn (I love Natalie's performance) so this fic is based on Henry's second wife and the idea that he never stop loving her... nothing personal against the other queens so please take no offense.

Disclaimer: The Tudors series belong to Showtime and Michael Hirst.

XX

May 19, 1546

The young girl opened the yellowish envelope her mother's former lady-in-waiting has just gave her. She was almost thirteen and she vaguely remembered her mother, but she knew that on a day like today, ten years ago she had been decapitated. Her ivory hands trembled as she began to read the letter, Anne's calligraphy was beautiful and she closed her eyes trying to picture her image on her mind.

My dearest child,

When you read this I will no longer be with you, since as you should know by now I shall be waiting for you in the afterlife where we could be together again once and for always. Without any doubt the thing I am going to miss the most is watching you grow and become the beautiful and intelligent lady I am already sure you are going to become, since you are the brightest and wiser child of the entire kingdom.

Please forgive me for all the hurt I could cause you and for all the pain I put you through, but believe when I swear you are the best thing that could ever happened to me. My dear daughter, in your face I see your father's one, in your faint voice I heard all the Tudor's authority, at your tender age you already move with the grace and the magnificence of a Queen, but in your eyes, in those beautiful eyes of you I recognized my courage…

My dearest Elizabeth, do not ever doubt of my love and devotion for you and for your father, if anything I am most grateful to his majesty, the King, for all his love and care. He chose me, finding me worthy of him, the crown and the English people, and so with it he gave me the joy of motherhood.

Do not ever blame your father, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. His love for me was always the most honest and true, and therefore I am and will remain his majesty most faithful servant. If you feel like blaming anyone, blame me for all the fails and mistakes, since my only and true sin was to love your father and you more than God himself.

Live your life and love the men, but do not ever lose your freedom, wisdom and independence, since there are your most valuable property.

Pray for me.
Love
Anne

Elizabeth felt the tears running down her face, she rarely gave her time to remember her mother. She grew up under Catherine Parr's -his father sixth wife- care, and never dared to ask Henry about Anne, the subject was like a taboo and her name was almost forbidden in court, not than anyone dare to say it out loud. But now it was different, she was a young lady and she would not take no for an answer, she wasn't Henry Tudor's daughter for no reason and she had inherited her father's stubbornness. Walking down the hall with all the magnificence of a royal heir, she stopped at her father's chambers, and the young guard standing by the door announced her.

Henry certainly wasn't the man he used to be, his handsome features and his athletic figure were gone long ago, his face was more the one of an aged and sick old man, but somehow he still kept the aura of a king. He knew the end was coming; he could feel the disease and age seizing him, and the coldness of death surrounding him every single minute. The big old king sighed; at least he had the yearned son to reign and assure the Tudor dynasty for hundred years to come.

Henry would have liked to spend more time with Edward, but he was heir of the entire kingdom and has to be educated as the Renaissance Prince he was. He didn't spend much more time with his daughters Mary and Elizabeth. Mary was much like her mother, a Catholic amid Protestants. A very pious girl, always dressed in dark clothes and with some kind of lost stare. Henry knew she never overcame for not being allowed to see her mother after he married Anne, especially in her final days. After expelling Catherine from the court, she was forbidden to see her daughter, and shortly after Mary was sent to serve as a lady-in-waiting to Elizabeth, she'd never recognize Anne as queen thus, for Mary, Elizabeth was another bastard, and there was no princess in England save herself. Henry felt some kind of pity for his older daughter, thanks to Catherine Parr his two daughters were back in court but unlike Elizabeth's love almost devotional, Mary was reserved and not that self-assured.

And then there was Elizabeth, redhead just like him, as much as he tried to doubt his paternity during Anne's downfall, there was no way that child wasn't all his. Henry was lost in his thought when a high-pitched voice coming from outside his chambers caught his attention.

"Your Majesty," a young boy said as he bowed. "Lady Eli-"

"I heard," Henry answered from his bed. "Let her in."

"Father," Elizabeth saluted him with a bow. "I would talk to you in private."

With a hand gesture Henry dismissed his servants.

"May I?" Elizabeth asked walking toward the bed.

"Sure Elizabeth," resting on his elbows Henry raised a little, as much as his leg allowed him. The pain was killing him and Elizabeth couldn't help but notice her father's effort. Hot, stuffy air filled the room, which smelled of medicine and illness.

"Father I received this today," she said showing him the letter and a beautiful precious stones collar, which Henry recognize instantly as the first one he ever gave to Anne. "I-I never dared to ask you about my mother before, but today after reading the letter I…"

"I have not even realized what day was today." Henry said more to himself than to his daughter standing next to him.

"If it bothers you I-I…"

"No… not at all, sit down Elizabeth." Henry said showing her a big oak chair by his bed. "I suppose, I always knew this day would come. Now, child let me see that letter."

Elizabeth did as told and waited till his father finish his reading.

"Open that drawer," Henry ordered, indicating a beautiful wooden Italian writing desk behind her. Confused, Elizabeth obeyed her father and opened the drawer, looking back at him once she did. "Take that little velvet chest out and come here." Elizabeth gave his father the chest, which he opened, and handed her a beautiful locket. "Take it, it is yours my child." Elizabeth raised her eyes and look at the big man in front of her, Henry VIII, King of England, her father. "Open it." Henry said.

"Is she- is it really…?"

"Yes she is child," said Henry. "That is your mother… Anne Boleyn, my darling Anne." Henry said and a sigh escaped his lips.

Holding the locket in her ivory hands, Elizabeth stared at the beautiful miniature on it and her eyes went tearful. There she was, pale face, dark hair, deep beautiful eyes and a slender neck.

"I did terrific and terrible things during my reign Elizabeth," Henry stated. "All of them for the behalf of the kingdom and the English people, but the one I regret the most is your mother's dead… I was upset, confused and listened to the wrong persons," he looked down and sighed. "There is no day I do not regret it, no day I do not miss her and no day I do not see her in you." Elizabeth turned her eyes and met his father's. "You my child are as beautiful as she was, and should be proud of her blood running through your veins and her spirit and soul living through you." Elizabeth smiled. "But above all, never doubt of my love for her, for there was no woman I ever loved as I loved her. Your mother Elizabeth, was the love of my life, full of the passion you only feel one time in an entire life time." Henry's eyes became tearful, but he was the sovereign and powerful men don't cry. "Now go away," he commanded in a loud voice. "And do not mention this to anyone."

Quickly, Elizabeth stood and bowed before leaving the room. Once in her chambers she looked at the miniature again and tried to remember the woman she was suppose to call mother, but the one she'd no memory, difference was this time she didn't feel sad nor guilty or abandoned since, as his father told her, Anne's spirit and soul lived within her.

XX