Prologue:

19th of May 1536, Tower of London

Anne buried her face in her hands as the silent tears finally flowed from her dark eyes. She had managed not to cry for the most part; she needed to be strong for her ladies in waiting. They were to be the last people to see her as a Queen. And yet like most placed in the Tower of London awaiting execution the dread finally succumbed her. All for nothing, She kept thinking to herself fervently. After all she had done over the past years, a violent death ordered by someone who she had known to love her was not what she had expected. "A visitor," Called out the guardsman on the other side of the prison door. The door swung wide and in came Thomas Wyatt, the prominent poet of the King's Court.

"Thomas? I thought you the last person ever wishing to visit me," The woman said, wiping away her tears as she stood up from the unsteady window seat. She looked him over; he had changed so much. It was if he had gone from a lovesick boy to a fully formed man. Only then did she truly wish she could have seen him for his true potential before. Perhaps if she had then she wouldn't have been so foolish.

"A scorned heart is sometimes forgiving Anne. Especially whilst the one who has scorned is about to die." He took her hands in his own, holding them tightly as he attempted to smile; he failed at said attempt miserably. Instead of a smile there were simply more silent tears from the both of them.

"Ah and I'm supposed to believe that you just forgive and forget? Thomas I know you all too well for such a trick. Even the King isn't as forgiving as you claim to be,"

"The King is a paranoid man whose simply angered because he can't control you. Your wild sort of independence was once something that he took intrigue in, but like all intrigues it came to an end." Anne walked back over from the barred-window and sat on a stool nearby to where Thomas stood. Her mind began to succumb to the idea of what life would have been like if she had stayed with Thomas. Though for most of their relationship he had been unsuitably married, that woman had passed on during Anne's marriage to King Henry. If not Thomas, than maybe someone else, anyone else but the King. That pursuit was a failure and its consequences were too high for Anne to bear, or even live through. Life…death…so definite yet so unsure.

But the afterlife.

Her epiphany brought a gentle smile to her tear-stricken face. The afterlife is where mistakes can be reformed; she could love again there, a true and uncorrupted sort of love. A love with Thomas. "Thomas you must promise me something," She began as she stood up, looking at him intently. The man nodded and kneeled to the floor, looking at his Queen intently.

"I will do anything Anne. What is it you wish? Do you want me to watch over Elizabeth? For that I will do most eagerly,"

"Yes that I suppose, but there is more. I want you to promise me that when you die as well, that you'll find me in the afterlife. Promise you'll find me after your deed of watching over Elizabeth is done. Promise me,"

Thomas's eyes widened with surprise. Never before had he heard her mention such things of the afterlife or even simple religion. That conversation had only been between Anne and the King when constructing the Reformation. Before he could reply, Anne continued, "For it is in the afterlife that you can love me once again and I won't scorn nor wreck your heart. That is my own promise. Now I beg you to make yours,"

He smiled slightly as he imagined what she had only just moments before; her epiphany of the afterlife.

Love, an uncorrupted love.

What better thing was there than that? "I promise," He said simply, bowing his head low in attempts to not show his tears. Kneeling to the floor as well, Anne embraced him, "Thank you, Thomas I shall keep my promise and wait for you."

Before any more words could be spoken, Anne could hear the guardsmen as they entered the chamber, "Your Majesty, it's time." Thomas watched in horror as Anne's ladies in waiting began to weep whilst they followed her out of the chamber. The woman only looked once back at Thomas, then forward to her fate.

When Thomas was alone in the room, he stood up from his former position on the ground, wiping the tears away from his unshaven face. Looking towards the door he stated shakily, "I swear it Anne, I will find you again," His legs gave out under him and he fell to the grime-covered stone once more, "I swear it."