Everything was quiet. Like the halls of the palace after nightfall. Or the moment she first held her baby after a long, gruelling labor. Her heart leapt in her chest, prompting her to stand. She opened her eyes and saw a small crowd gathered around the bed. Elizabeth crawled onto the bed, shaking and poking her lifeless body while she wept. She placed a gentle hand against her stepdaughter's back but her desperate attempts only continued. Eventually, Mary pulled the small girl away and took her in her arms.
Her husband, the king who could command a room with his mere presence, now lay broken and distraught at the foot of her bed. She hesitated at first, unsure what to say or do. She then tried to reach out for his hand but he refused to look her way.
Slowly, the familiar faces surrounding her began to fade. So, she edged closer to the midwife and looked down at the small babe resting in her arms. She brushed his hair away and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I will always be with you, my dear Edward."
Once she uttered these words, the world around her disappeared into darkness save for a faint glimmer of light. With each step she took a new note came to life, stringing together to form a harmonious tune as a multicoloured path illuminated beneath her feet. She shielded her eyes from the dazzling light as she crossed over to the other side of the tunnel. She slowly lowered her hand away from her face, revealing a pearl white gate guarded by a young man dressed in white.
"Miss Jane Seymour, I presume?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Well, you're here a bit later than we expected."
"Later?"
"Yes, many women with childbed fever don't live longer than a few days." The young man then took out a large book and a pen. He proceeded to flip through the pages, mumbling a few intelligible words as he wrote in his book. After a few moments, he closed the book and looked back up at the young woman. "Well, it appears you're set to go." He then sauntered over to the gate, turned the key, and pushed it open. "Oh and by the way, there's someone here to see you."
Shortly thereafter, a young boy, no more than eight years old, came sprinting towards her with open arms. "Auntie Jane! Auntie Jane!" he cried.
She hadn't seen this child before, yet something about him seemed familiar. She immediately rushed over to the young boy, scooped him up in her arms, and spun him all about as he laughed heartily.
"My mummy really wants to see you. Come on!" He then grabbed her by the hand and raced through the gate.
Jane still hadn't the slightest idea who this child was or who his mother could be. In fact, she wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to meet her. But she had no choice but to follow since he had yet to release his grip on her hand. She eventually spotted two figures waiting for her in the distance. She kept sprinting onward until she came face-to-face with her two dear friends.
"Welcome home, Jane," Catherine said, taking her closest friend into her arms.
"Yeah, it took you long enough. It feels like we've been waiting ages," Anne said, a wry smile curling at the edges of her lips.
For several moments Jane stood there wide-eyed at her friends. She opened her mouth but the lump in her throat prevented her from speaking. It wasn't long before her eyes began to water and tears rolled down her face.
"What's the matter? Was it something I said?"
"Now, Anne, don't take it personally," came a soft voice. A slightly older woman with gold hair in a gentle curl approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder. This had to be Henry's mother, Elizabeth of York. Jane had seen her portrait many times and dreamed of the day she would finally meet her. "I remember you were very much the same way when you had to leave your daughter."
"It's not just that. I-I-I'm so sorry!" Jane sobbed, collapsing at Anne's feet.
"For what? This?" Anne asked, gesturing to the choker around her neck. "I've been in worse scrapes than this."
Jane rubbed her eyes and sniffed. "Like what?"
"Well, you try sharing a bed with Henry—oh wait, you have."
Jane couldn't help but smile a bit at her comment. She loved him but she couldn't deny that what Anne said was true. "So, no hard feelings?"
"None," Anne confirmed. "It isn't your fault he was so obsessed with my head."
Jane chuckled then looked over at Catherine. "What about you?"
"Querida, there's nothing you could have done," she said, taking her hands into hers.
"Still, I could have tried harder to get through to him."
"Do you think he would have listened? After all, you've seen how pig-headed Henry can be."
Jane paused for a moment then shook her head. "But...have I done enough? Was I enough? What will become of him? What will become of the children?"
The older woman took her by the hand. "My dear, I once asked those exact questions. But then I looked back at my life with this." She then handed Jane a small object approximately the size of a small book. She studied the object carefully, fiddling with the buttons and other features.
Then, an assortment of scenes from her past life flashed on the screen. She then saw how Mary clung to her as she nursed her through one of her awful headaches. She saw little Elizabeth's face light up as the two of them re-enacted her favourite stories. She watched her son nuzzle into her chest when she held him for the first time.
A sense of warmth bloomed in her chest and a smile slowly crept across her lips. She tried not to cry, but soon enough that familiar lump in her throat returned and her eyes began to water.
"Auntie Jane, are you okay?" She looked down and saw the little boy she had met earlier hugging her leg.
"I just miss my son, that's all," she answered, wiping tears from her eyes.
"You can still see him," the boys said. "Just look at the machine, push the button, and tell it who you want to see. That's how I was able to see my mummy even when she was far away from me."
Jane pushed the button but before she could speak, a different name came to mind. It was someone who had been by her side for three nights without rest. Someone who had given her the strength to pick herself up even when it seemed easier to give up. Someone she seemed to have known for a lifetime. And yet, she had forgotten her as she bid a tearful good-bye to her loved ones. "Show me Grace."
Within seconds, the image of a woman appeared before her eyes. She knelt beside her bed with her hand folded and her head bowed. "Heavenly Father, they call me a miracle worker and share tales of my healing hands," she said, her voice breaking. "But I am no miracle worker. A miracle worker wouldn't have the blood of any woman on her hands, let alone that of a queen. With every patient I lose I'm told the same thing: 'This wasn't your fault. Some women are just too delicate for the toils of childbirth.' But no matter how many times I remind myself of this, I just can't let go." Then, she buried her face in the bedsheets and began to weep.
Jane placed a hand over her heart, bent her eyebrows, and sighed. It isn't fair that she blames herself for this. she thought.
Shortly thereafter, a tall, slender man opened the door to her bedroom. He then approached the woman and held her close. For a few minutes he said nothing. Instead, he cradled her in his arms and stroked her hair.
"I should have done more," she sobbed into his chest. "With all my other patients I could say 'Everything will be alright,' or 'You'll be okay." But with her, all I could do was give her a cold flannel and say 'We will do everything to keep you comfortable.'"
The man then cradled her chin in his hand and brushed his thumb across her cheek. "It sounds to me like you did everything you could do for her."
Jane stared at the couple, unable to take her eyes off of them. She couldn't recall a time Henry had ever spoken to her like that. Usually she had been the one to stand by and support him in spite of his flaws and tempers.
Suddenly, a tan dove with black spots appeared, soaring gracefully through the air before landing on her finger. That's when Jane got an idea. She turned to the bird, instructing it in a gentle tone to pay a visit to her good friend Grace. The dove blinked once, releasing a few soft coos. Then it began to flap its wings fervently before taking off into the great blue sky once again.
"Auntie Jane,will you play with me now?" the young boy asked, gently tugging at the skirt of her dress.
"We'd best check with your mother first," she said, coming down to his level "see if it's alright with her."
"Oh, I don't mind sharing him," Anne said.
"Neither do I," Catherine chimed.
Jane smiled and extended her hand to the boy. He took it immediately and sprinted towards a group of children who were playing nearby. "Wait 'til you meet my friends!"
A/N: As you can tell, all of the previous chapters have been relatively long. So, I thought I'd offer you all a shorter one. I hope this gave you the relief you all needed after that downer of a fifth chapter. Heck, I certainly needed this.
Now, I said that I would give this story some semblance of a happy ending. It may look like it, but this isn't the end of the story. I have a few other ideas that I couldn't quite fit into this chapter without creating an awkward or rushed transition. So, I'll be including them in an epilogue.
I know that the length between publishing dates for my chapters has been rather extensive and I apologize for that. I'll try to have the epilogue out as soon as I can. With that out of the way, let me explain why I've decided to publish this chapter at this particular time. This weekend is actually my graduation weekend (Cum laude, Bachelor's in Social Work). This is significant for two reasons.
Firstly, I started writing this fan fiction during the summer before my final semester of college. I also worked on the second and third chapters in the time I managed to squeeze in between my practicum and my schoolwork. Secondly, this chapter serves as somewhat of a reflection of this significant milestone. There were many times during my college experience where I reconsidered following through with my initial plans.
Whether it was due to doubt, frustration, or burnout I encountered many obstacles that challenged me as a student and as a person. This was also true with my writing. Despite all of this, I managed to find a way to convince myself to keep going. Now, my efforts have paid off and I'll soon have the degree and the chapters to prove it.
Beyond this, I also believe that the events in this chapter, in a way, represent this point in my life. Obviously, death and graduation are two extremely different events. But in some ways, they are similar to each-other. This chapter features Jane leaving her past life behind as well as her family as she moves on to a much better life.
Similarly, my graduation marks the end of my old life as an inexperienced college student and will allow me to transition into a more productive time in my life. Admittedly, I'm still trying to figure out exactly what I'm meant to do with my life but I'm making some progress. I'm taking a financial literacy class through a transition college and I've been volunteering as a Teammates mentor. I hope that someday I can fully transition into an even brighter stage in my life. Until then, I'll keep doing what I love and learn how I can use my passions and skills to edge me further towards my goals.