A/N: I have been addicted to the Tudors lately and have found the urge to write a fanfic about it. Let me know what you think.
You know the saying What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger? I'm certain my life is proof enough of that. When I was four my dad left my mom, brother Tommy, and myself. Then at age eleven, my brother John came from a hook up Mom and Dad had while they were divorced. They swear it wasn't a hook up. I think differently. John died when he was seven. Weak heart. Our mom couldn't take it. She popped some pills and the next day she was with John. I loved 'em both a lot. They were pretty much my life. Now all I have is Tommy because Dad remarried, moved, and started a new family. We were left with Mom's best friend Andy after that.
Then I've been through relatively normal teenage stuff. Cheating boyfriends, backstabbing 'friends', struggles with school. Yeah, normal day to day crap. But there is one experience I'll never forget that was far from ordinary. Whether it was a lucid dream or side effect of some illegal substance that you can no doubt figure out, I'll truly never know. I haven't figured it out. Even though it makes no sense, I feel compelled to write it down.
And here it is.
My side of King Henry the Eighth's legend.