I received a review for my other story asking me if I could write one where Robert marries Elizabeth instead of Amy Robsart. I will definitely try to get that up ASAP, but school always delays my writing a little bit. Please review...not because I want as many reviews as possible, but because I want to get feedback: what do you like, what can I improve on, do you have anything you would like to see me write? Reviews and feedback are a great way to improve my writing.

The first time she thought she lost him was when he married Amy Robsart.

She had been wrong. They were both in the Tower at the same time and he had secretly had a little boy bring her flowers. He was also by her side when she was crowned Queen of England at 25.

The second time she thought she had lost him was when he married her she-wolf of a cousin Lettice Knollys. She had thought of banishing him to the Tower. When she first of his marriage she wanted to punish him, to never see him again. But when anger had softened and sense had returned to take its place, she knew she could never do that. How would she bear never seeing her Eyes again? He needed to be at her side and at her command. He was quickly summoned back to court.

The the third time she thought she lost him was when he was sent to the Netherlands. No longer could he be at her side with the snap of her fingers. No longer could he take her hands, give her a charming smile, and reassure her that everything would be alright.

All those times she had only lost him temporarily. He always returned, they always made up after quarrels, and most of all his affection for her was always the same.

The fourth time she lost him, she lost him for good. He had been ailing for quite some time, but she always thought the medicine she sent would make him feel better.

His absence from her life was always a fear, a terrifying fear that she refused to give credit to. A prince did not give into such irrational fears. They were young and strong and nothing would ever happen to them.

She was wrong again. They were older. Their youth had long escaped them. Their days of being the handsomest couple to enter the room were gone, even though she would never, ever admit that.

She would always remember him as her sweet Robin. Whenever she saw him, though he was aging and ailing, she saw the young boy she had first fallen in love with. To her, he would always be the young man with the dark gypsy eyes and that heart stopping swagger.

When all others failed her, he was always her hero. When all others left her, she had only to take a quick glance around the room to find Robert waiting patiently for her summons.

They had both hurt each other and used each other. She wouldn't deny that. He had been desperate to marry her and even though she knew Robert was ambitious, the real reason was because he wanted to fully have her heart, her body, and her soul.

She had wanted to give him all of herself. The hardest thing she ever had to do was deny him. She had feared marriage from childhood. Her own mother and cousin had died at their husband's hand. Catherine Parr was carrying Thomas Seymour's child when he began to engage in his dangerous flirtations with her. Her sister Mary was stuck in a loveless marriage that lost her the support of her country. She hadn't been given any examples that made her see any advantages to marriage.

As powerful as her brain was, her heart put up an awful fight. She had always secretly desired to marry her sweet Robin, but there had been so many reasons not to.

There was only one reason to marry Robert and that reason was that she loved him.

It wasn't often, but sometimes she allowed herself to imagine the two of them as husband and wife. She imagined having children to forever cement the love they had for each other. The first child would be a girl, a pretty girl with large dark eyes and silky black hair. She would be the spitting image of the mother she had lost at such a young age.

The second was a son who would be the living image of his father. The second and third would have the Tudor red hair and pale skin. She would have it all; a husband who adored her and their children, a partner to share her burdens, and the love of her people.

She would laugh at herself before dissolving into quiet tears. How silly she was being! This was all an impossible dream. She had married her country. She would live and die a virgin. Marriage was dangerous even to someone she loved.

But now that she held his last letter in her hand, she was full of regret and remorse. She had never really had him and now she certainly never would.

The dream of their family assaulted her with such force that she dropped to her knees and then crumpled to the floor. "He can't be gone, he can't be gone," her mind chanted, but the ache in her heart told her the truth.

How was she to live? He had taken her heart with him to death. He was her heart. How does one live without their heart?

He had always tried to love her and take care of her. She had been so cruel to him, promising to marry him one minute and then retracting her words the next. Even he knew that a queen had to worry about more than just her heart, but it still must have hurt him terribly. Just as his marriages and affairs had stung, her many refusals must have wounded him in much the same way.

This was some cruel joke. He wasn't really gone. He couldn't be. Especially when they had a victory to celebrate. Soon he would arrive, pick her up off the floor, and take her to the festivities. He would be right by her side as he always was and as they watched the celebrations, they would reminisce about the many dances they had shared together over the years.

No, he was not...

Suddenly, she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Her dress was too tight, her fashionable ruff too constricting. But she had banished her ladies and would not let them into her room to help her so she would have to manage herself. She furiously tore at her gown, not caring if it was ripped to shreds. Who cared about a silly gown when her love was gone?

She continued to rip and claw at her dress until she escaped the pretty cage.

Now she was exhausted and could no longer fight the sadness that seemed to spread to every part of her body.

Everyone left her. Her mother, her cousin, her many step-mothers, her father, her brother, her sister, and now the one she believed would never leave.

"Robin, what am I to do without you? You are my soul. How can I carry on without you?" she spoke to the letter as if it was really Robert and he could hear her cries.

With every ounce of strength she had left, she screamed as forcefully as she could, not caring if anyone could hear her. "How could you do this to me?"

Then breathlessly she whispered, "I love you."