"Anne…Anne," Henry VIII fitfully moaned in his sleep. It had been eleven years since he had her beheaded, but she still haunted him in his dreams. Her dark mysterious eyes, full lips, and her raven hair, teased him even now. He had thought so long ago that he would rid her from his mind, but he had chased for her so long and loved her so deeply, so that she had become imbedded into his very soul.
Henry could feel himself slipping away even further, and he knew that he would not survive the night. Already death had claimed him. 'At least I've left behind a male heir. England will be safe,' Henry thought as he let the darkness surround him. However, one last image popped into his mind. It was when Anne had come to him with Elizabeth trying to set things right between them. "One more chance," she had begged. "One more chance," her voice said again and he subsided to the black emptiness of nothing.