Anne Boleyn/Thomas Cromwell.
-She were the more beautiful.-
Maria Bolena had always been the most beautiful.
This had never escaped to no one and neither to Anne herself.
And yet Henry had chosen her, and no other.
Was Mary ... happy, maybe?
Anne did not know it. She was turning to the hall with an empty expression.
All one that she had to necessary keeping to mind was that the king had found out that she was betraying him.
The king had ordered her beheading. But the truth is that he did not love her any more, come on, it was well visible.
Her one-way ticket for the gallows was that child from the thin red hair, who was sleeping blessed.
"Rest, my little Elizabeth, rest quiet and one day you will be queen" was mumbling touching lightly her hair, in a gesture so sweet which astonished also herself.
She loved the undefended child who was resting between his arms. She loved Elizabeth, the future queen of Enghland.
She loved her daughter, that would have been always recognized as Tudor, a name of a father who was not the real one.
Anne loved Elizabeth Cromwell.
Now the tears slowing flatting her eyes.
"Hi Elizabeth," said with the hoarse voice, "say hello to daddy Thomas, when you will grow up".