I write to you both in a tower in which you father, the King, sees fit to confine me in. I wish to say to you both that I am sorry. To pin all my hopes and futures on you was wrong of me.
You were both my hopes and saviors. To my eldest son, whom I wished to name Richard, I apologize. You were my second chance. With you the world seemed that much brighter and life appeared worth living. I figured that with you Henry would love me more. Forsake all others as he had done before. I can't remember anything that caused me particular distress or worry. I don't know what happened.
One moment you were there. A healthy Prince of Wales. The next thing I knew I was dizzy. My stomach cramped and it hurt. Then a red rose bloomed and you were gone.
To my youngest son, Henry, or Harry as I would affectionately call you at night, I apologize as well. You were my last hope. My last savior. Since you were so precious to me I should have taken care with you. Guarded you well against the evilness of my thoughts. I blame myself but your father is to blame as well. Seeing him with Mistress Seymour broke my heart.
Their kiss was filled with passion and longing. How many times had they kissed like that? I wondered. How many times had he taken her to his bed despite her claiming maidenhood? Was she pregnant with his child then? His bastard child at that?
He tried to comfort me but I heard nothing. I felt a familiar pain and my hand went instinctively to my belly. Feeling to make sure you were there. Later on I slept and awoke to pain and blood.
It was everywhere. As if it was mocking me. As if God Himself was mocking me. A voice in my head said this to me: If he did it to her what stops him from doing it to you.
In that moment I knew that you weren't there to save my relationship with Henry but my life. You nor your brother could have saved our relationship.
I collapsed on my side, and pleaded with you in every language that I knew, for you not to leave me. For you to grow and become a strong and healthy Tudor Prince that you are and were meant to be.
I now know that a son would have been the savior to help me keep the title of Queen but never the heart of the King. I feel selfish and foolish. Pinning all my hopes on you, my unborn sons.
I beseech you both in the hopes of forgiving me. My dearest wish is that we shall all live an endless life together in peace.
Your Loving Mother,
Anne Boleyn