Prologue

Elizabeth sobbed into her pillow. Her mama wasn't coming back. She had gone to heaven, they had told her. It was not fair! Mama didn't do anything wrong, why should she go to heaven and without Elizabeth! She felt as though her whole world was breaking apart.

"Hello Elizabeth." A voice roused Elizabeth. She barely raised her head, face still covered with tears.

"Unke Jorge?" She asked, and a hand touched her shoulder. She looked up to see a transluscent man smiling at her.

"Unke Jorge!" She tried to hug the man, but her arms closed about nothing.

"Elizabeth, I'm dead now." He shook his head sadly as Elizabeth tried to reach for his face.

"Where's Mama, I want Mama!" She beat at open air as George tried to comfort her.

"She's dead. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," Elizabeth continued to bawl even louder.

"I promise you," Elizabeth stared into his eyes, seeing unshed tears of regret, "I will make you the best Queen. I will make sure that Anne's sacrifice wasn't in vain. Be quiet now. A-Elizabeth," He nearly said Anne's name. When Anne was younger, she had often came to his room during a thunderstorm, wanting to be comforted. He used the exact same words as he did then." I will teach you what you mother and I didn't learn. And what led us down the path of destruction. I will teach you to be a courtier." His fingers gripped her arms.

"Unke Jorge?" Elizabeth asked timidly.

"Yes, Elizabeth, what is it?" He stroked his fingers through her hair.

"What about Grandpapa? And Papa," She fingered the cross he had given her for her third birthday in advance. The very thing that attached him to her, it was a cross inlaid with pearls and tiny sapphires. "Can they…see you?" He shook his head, smirking at the thought of his father languishing away in disgrace at Hever. How far have they fallen, and how disappointed must his father be, everything gone within a year. He did not deserve to live, having abandoned his son and daughter to save his own skin. George's eyes softened at the thought of his mother. Elizabeth Howard was already in her fifties, and she would be heartbroken at the loss of her children. She would be bitter as well, at the man who had aimed too high and fallen too fast.

"Elizabeth, do you have any excess money? Your father is bound to try to forget you by now." George did not expect her to smile and nod. Such an intelligent young girl, smart enough to know when to save for a rainy day without her parents advising her on the way to use her money.

"Here, Wady B'yan doesn't know," She giggled, as she tiptoed to the space between her bed and the wall and inserted her hand into the headboard.

"That's amazing, Elizabeth," Elizabeth beamed at the praise, "Where did you get this? There has to be at least fifty pounds in here." It was enough to buy two dresses, or upkeep Hever Castle for two weeks during his childhood.

"I took this when Wady B'yan wasn't rooking!" She gurgled happily, "I just grabbed as much as I could carry into my room."

"Excellent, Elizabeth, but you can't spend it. Not unless you really have to." George's mind was already racing away at the opportunities. With fifty pounds, she could set up a business, which would then earn her more money, and more opportunities to exert control. He stopped his thinking process as he realized that Elizabeth was still relatively young, and unskilled in the art of manipulation, and unable to handle different people. Despite her maturity, she was still a two and a half year old, not a young adult, or even an adolescent. No, he would have to stop at just teaching her the basics, the lessons that his father had taught him but he had never bothered to fully understand, relying instead on his sisters' favor with the king to grant him positions. It was the Boleyn Senior who had plotted to get the Boleyn girls winning the king's favor, and who had spearheaded the creation of a faction that supported Anne. It was a pity that they were only fair-weathered friends who knew how to encourage a rising star, but they were not like Sir Thomas More or Cardinal Fisher, both of whom truly supported Katherine of Aragon's case.

"First, go to sleep. I will still be here when you awake."

"Promise, Unke Jorge," She said, sniffing in her tears. George lightly patted her head.

"Promise, Elizabeth," He conjured a translucent piece of parchment and a quill and as she slept, he planned for her future.

Flashback:

He watched as the crowd cheered, his headless corpse being pushed away by the executioner as they got ready for Henry Norris.

"Feeling disappointed?" An old man smiled at him.

"Master, I did not realize…" George was startled to say the least. The old man motioned to the window above, where Anne was currently residing at. George's metaphorical throat tightened. Was Anne watching his execution, along with the rest of his fellow accused? Poor Anne, she did not deserve to watch their death.

"Seems quite a pity, don't you think," the old man waggled his finger as he was joined by his wife, who did not look as old as him, but seemed to love him dearly.

"That poor girl, Elizabeth," She muttered, "Though I did not like her mother, Anne, I still feel sorry for the Lady Elizabeth." She shook her head sadly, "Always the innocent are harmed first, and to be scarred mentally for life. She did not choose to have the burden of adults placed on her shoulders."

"My dear," The man addressed his wife, "Why don't you tell him of what we have planned? You were the one who have concocted it."

"Very well," The woman drew in a deep breath, "Mister George Boleyn, we have a proposition to make. Do you remember the circumstances in which your niece, Elizabeth is currently placed? She is about to lose her mother at age two, and her father would be withdrawing support for her, as I have foreseen the future, and it is to be a hard one for her. But we have retained you because we would like to ask you to look after her, as a surrogate father, and as a doting uncle. You would be her parent figure in life, and she would look up to you. She would be a Great Queen, but she would need the help of others."

"Not only that," the old man interrupted his wife, "She would need the guidance of an adult, a mature man to lead her, and to teach her the useful politics and statecraft needed to head this kingdom."

"But I don't know anything about politics, why would you ask me?" George blurted out. "You should ask my father, or even Sir Thomas More or Cardinal Wolsey, never me,"

"True, but unlike your father, you loved Anne not as a political tool, but as your sister, and the latter two which you have mentioned would not look upon Elizabeth as a likely successor to King Henry." The old man barely suppressed a snort at this, causing his wife to glare at him.

"Would you take on this request then, Mister Boleyn?" She smiled charmingly at him, and George was instantly drawn in by those cerulean blue eyes that stared into his soul.

"I'll," George gulped, "I'll do it, Madam." But before he could stop himself, he asked, "What about Mark?"

"He has gone to join God's Kingdom," The woman answered him, "You would join him too, when the time comes. Trust in God, and he would give you mercy."

"And remember, we would drop in from time to time to check up on you," the old man waggled his pinky finger, and smirked, "So don't mind if we decide to pop in."The two disappeared, leaving George to his thoughts


A/N: Sorry for deleting the last two stories. The first was deleted for lack of inspiration, and the second was due to cramming too many ideas into one small story. I also found that my story was not published onto the tudors main site due to some technical difficulties. Anyway, here is a new Regarding History, starring George Boleyn and Elizabeth Tudor. Of course, the title is lousy, so please review to offer some suggestions.