It had been the one time they had argued.
They were only together for less than two years.
Less than two years, before God finally punished Jane for Henry's folly.
She had given him a son, and so served her purpose, a life for a life.
A small part of him, but a part of him nontheless had reminded himself that God was indeed merciful for sparing his precious jewel, his prince and only son.
God bless, sweet, sweet Jane, Henry knew that she had only argued with him about the Pilgramige of Grace rebellion, because she was such a gentle soul that she hated the idea of violence, against the rebels, whom Henry knew she secretly agreed with.
He recalled the coldness and thoughtlessness of the words he had uttered that faithful day, reminding her of the fate of his previous wives.
All though, he realised now that since Anne was never legally his wife, he shouldn't have refered to her as such, to do that would have meant that he saw Elizabeth as legitimate.
Henry recognized the utter trivialness of realising this now, when his world, his whole reason for existance was lying there.
Dead.
Numly, Henry realised that despite his pleas, God had firmly turned his back on Henry of England.
Sure he had a son, but at what price?
His happiness was the price.
A life for a life.
A Queen for a Prince.
If God had turned hadn't turned his back on Henry all those years ago when he destroyed his church and his country in pursuit of the whore, why would he turn his back on Henry now and destroy the one good thing left in his life?
Jane had done everything for him, she had loved a man who had bastardized his children, destroyed his church and abandoned his wife in pursuit of another woman, she had persuaded him to reinstate his beloved daughter, Princess Mary, to the line of sucession, and she had even accepted his bastard daughter Elizabeth.
In his grief, Henry knew one thing for sure.
Now that after all these years, and all the things he had done to get a legitimate son and heir.
He wasn't sure that it was worth the trade.
A Queen, his Queen, for a Prince.
Henry would have done anything to get her back.
She was his sunshine and his light in a world full of dark forces.
Now England's sun was gone forever.
England would always mourn the loss of the sun.