The idea for this story belongs to CordeliaHalliwell who posted it as a challenge on The Tudors Fanfic Fanfic Forum.

I would like to say a big thanks to ReganX who has helped me so much with getting this prologue how I want it.

Please review and tell me what you honestly think. All feedback if welcome and wanted. Thanks. Enjoy

Disclaimer: I own nothing and this story is AU so anything that is not historically accurate to real events is done with knowledge of true events for the purpose of this story.

Prologue

March 19th 1536

Henry knew that he had lain with his wife for the last time tonight. Anne Boleyn, his wife, his enemy, the only woman to ever make a fool out of him the King of England lay next to him, her soft breathing heavy with deep sleep. He turned his head slowly to look at her.

Even now, after he had decided he would discard her and his feelings towards her were anything but loving, he still could not deny that she was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, in fact. Her luscious dark hair lay about her shoulders tumbling over the velvety mounds that were her exposed, perfect breasts.

He reached a hand cautiously across and delicately stroked her ivory-coloured shoulder. Her skin felt like satin to his gentle touch. She was flawless.

Anne stirred slightly from her deep sleep, a soft sigh escaping her rosy lips. Henry quickly withdrew his hand, wanting nothing less than to wake her. Everything was going to be so much more complicated once she awoke.

His gaze hardened towards her. It mattered not how beautiful Anne was on the outside for Henry had learned what she truly was. Manipulative, dishonest and scheming. He knew now that he would never get the son he deserved from this woman. God had blessed their marriage with only one living daughter and two miscarriages, and this had led Henry to believe that his union with Anne was accursed. It was his duty to discard her and take another wife who would give England the long awaited Prince of Wales. Anne would never be able to give him what she had promised before they were married.

Unbidden, the memory of what Anne had said to him after her last miscarriage not two months ago drifted into his mind. He remembered the way she had looked when he had first entered her chambers on that afternoon in January.

He could not deny that he had been shocked when he saw her. She had appeared...somehow broken.

She was hunched over on top of her bed, obviously still feeling the physical pain that the loss of their son had caused her. But this was nothing compared to the pain that was etched upon every inch of her face. He had heard she was crying before he even was within her apartments, her eyes were red and her face was wet from the tears she had shed.

Henry had seen Anne upset before usually mingled with anger but nothing could compare to this. She looked weak which was something she had never been before.

Henry had felt his heart unwillingly go out to her, this poor, suffering young woman who was, after all, the person whom he had pursued for nearly seven years, the person he had loved so deeply and desired so ardently that he was willing to do whatever he had to do in order to make her his wife.

"You have lost my boy," the words came softly from his dry lips. "I will not speak of it... the loss is too great." He felt overcome with emotion and it was a struggle for him to keep his voice steady.

Anne made no effort to respond and didn't even look him in the eye. Henry felt his anger begin invade his mind, overthrowing any pitying sentiments he may have felt just before.

It was then that he realized that he would have to rid himself of Anne Boleyn. It was clear to him that God would not see fit to grant him any male heir as long as he was married to Anne.

He told her this, his voice growing stronger and harsh. He heard her gasp slightly despite her previous silence and a small sob escaped her lips. His anger was too great now for him to pity her and he could not stand to look at her whimpering and defeated... but he couldn't tell her of his intention to end their marriage, not yet, not when she was still so weak and suffering so much pain.

He told her that he would speak to her when she was up and in his mind he had every intention of doing just that. He turned then, starting to walk briskly from the dark room.

"It wasn't all my fault," Anne spoke quietly but there was a strength to her voice that was unmistakeable. Henry stopped abruptly, shocked by what she had said. He didn't turn somehow afraid of looking at her. "You have no one to blame for yourself for this," with each word she said Henry could hear Anne's voice growing stronger and more defiant. "I was distressed to see you with that wench Jane Seymour." She gasped for air and suppressed a sob.

Henry stamped his foot, trying to rid himself of the sense of guilt that had suddenly rushed through him and his terrifying realisation that what she said was partly true. He wanted to shout at her, to deny her words utterly and to make it clear to her, and to whoever might be able to overhear their conversation that he bore no responsibility for this loss but his tongue would not voice the words.

"Because the love I bear you is so great," Anne's voice became louder as she continued, as though she was summoning all of her strength to allow her to say her piece, "it broke my heart to see you love others." The last part of her speech was said quietly but it was its simple message that cut Henry right through to the bone.

Now the guilty feelings within him were not only for his potential role in the loss of his precious son but because of what he had done to her, this woman who he could not deny had once been the love of his life.

He made no reply to her and the silence stretched between them. Every possible emotion rushed through Henry at that moment. He felt crying out, like running away, like hitting Anne, like running to her bedside and folding her up in his arms telling her how sorry he was all at the same time.

It was then in that instant that he first knew he had been bewitched and seduced by witchcraft and that no matter what happened, he must discard Anne Boleyn. No woman could possibly cause him to feel like this and there was no other explanation except that she was a witch.

His face hardened towards her even though his back was still turned. Slowly, and with an undertone of deadly anger in his voice, he repeated what he had said about speaking with her when she was well, not daring to allow himself to say anything else, not knowing what he might say to her if he did not guard his tongue. As he started to walk from her bed chamber, all his conflicting emotions melted away and all that was left in their place was pure anger and hatred towards the woman who had caused him and his country so much pain, the woman whom had dared to place blame upon his head for the loss of their baby, the woman whom he called his wife.

As Henry walked away from Anne's apartments he heard her screams. They were like nothing he had ever heard before but they only served his strengthen his resolve to be rid of her and take a new wife.

Lying next to Anne now, Henry felt the same feeling of guilt return. He quickly dismissed it unwilling to let himself fall into the trap that Anne had set him.

Or was it really a trap?

There still a voice inside his head that spoke out in defence of Anne questioning his own actions and defending those of Anne. This voice seemed to try to make him remember how he had once felt about Anne, the passion they had shared, the tender love that was unlike anything he had ever known. It told him that she was truly hurt by his affairs and how could he blame her when he had once promised to be faithful to only her and he had done so for almost seven years before their marriage.

Henry felt his ever present anger begin to resurface. Of course Anne was the one to blame for the loss of the child, she had no right to fly into the fit of rage, as she had done when she had walked in upon Henry with Jane upon his knee. He was the King of England and he had every right to take a mistress if he so chose, especially when his wife was with child.

Thinking of Jane soothed him and he longed to be with her again. Jane had returned to her family home in the country and he missed her presence. She was not just a mistress; she would be the woman whom he would take as his wife when Anne was finally gone. Henry pictured Jane now within his mind, her soft blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, her clear blue eyes filled with love for him.

Jane was going to be the perfect wife, she would never argue with him like Anne did, she was too gentle and too well bred to ever forget herself like that. She would have the dignity to turn a blind eye to any mistresses he might take, knowing that it was his right to do so and that, as the Queen, she should never make an unnecessary commotion. She loved him so much that he couldn't imagine her ever complaining about anything that gave him joy – although Henry could not imagine that he would ever desire to take any mistress once he was married to Jane Seymour.

Just a few weeks ago, Jane had given herself to him. Henry had not planned to lie with her, indeed his intention had been to honour her maidenhead until he could make her his wife, but when they had found themselves alone in his chambers in the evening after they had dined privately together neither of them could stop it. Henry had taken her and she had been just as sweet, gentle and submissive in bed as he was sure she would be as his Queen.

Jane was distressed afterwards, apologizing for forgetting herself and worrying that Henry would view her as a common strumpet, as her family and the court would when they learned that she had given herself to a man who was not her husband. Henry was moved by her distress and he hastened to assure her that he had not lost respect for her and that still intended to marry her as soon as he was free to do so.

It was now all the more important for him to be free of Anne so he could honour his promise to his cherished Jane.

Henry got up slowly from the bed, being careful not to rouse the still sleeping Anne. He crossed the room to look out of the window, disappointed when he saw the sky was still patched with shining stars. This meant that he could not leave Anne's bed chamber, at least not until dawn for she would suspect that something was not right if he left in the middle of the night.

That was the only reason, or rather the one reason Henry wanted to believe was true, that he had lain with her was that she would not suspect anything. Cromwell had asked him – pleaded with him – to maintain a cordial relationship with the Queen so that neither she nor her family would notice that anything was amiss or suspect what Henry had planned. Cromwell had stressed the importance of keeping Henry's efforts to discard Anne a closely guarded secret so that the Boleyn family would not know what he was planning until it was too late for them to do anything about it.

Although Cromwell had advised Henry to keep everything about his relationship with Anne as normal as possible, implying that he should visit her bed every so often at least, Henry had never had any intention of lying with her. He didn't think he was able to be with her in that way anymore and besides, before her miscarriage he had not visited her bed frequently anyway, so surely if he started now it would cause Anne to be more suspicious, if anything.

Inside Henry also knew, and he would never admit it even to himself, that he feared being with Anne again because he knew how captivating she could be. He had never known a woman more passionate than her so he feared his lust for her would be reawakened and not only that he feared that she might be able to rekindle his tender love for her.

He could not afford to fall back in love with Anne Boleyn, for his country needed a male heir and he was sure that Anne would never bear him the son he needed.

Henry had not planned to lie with Anne tonight. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that it had happened purely because he had taken Cromwell's advice and had seen the importance of keeping things unsuspicious even if he balked at the idea so as to prevent Anne being forewarned of her downfall, he knew really that was not the entire truth.

Had he not decided that he would discard the counsel of Cromwell and risk letting Anne suspect something was wrong because Henry had believed that the risk of that was a lot less than the risk of Anne's seductiveness rekindling his old emotions towards her and thus dooming England's chance for a Prince of Wales forever if she truly got her claws back into him?

No, he had not slept with Anne purely for that reason alone.

Last night, he had overheard some people speaking to each other, he could not remember their faces as he had not even seen them but regardless they were only servants so of little consequence, but the simple words that one of them had spoken had resurfaced an old memory.

"You must be a crackbrain... when I marry my wife will never speak of anything with me other than how much pleasure I give her and when our son is due." Henry could not see them for he was seated on his throne at the front of the dining hall and they were behind so he had his back to them.

"No. My wife is the most precious thing in this world to me," the second speaker was interrupted by a snort from the first but he carried on regardless. "She knows she can speak freely with me, on any matter she pleases, and that I will never reprimand her for it. I love her and I think truthfulness is what makes love. You know it's kind of the definition of love."

Those last three words had chilled Henry. He glanced over to where Anne should be sitting next to him, but her chair was empty for she had chosen to dine alone in her rooms away from the court as she had often been doing for the past month or so.

The feeling that came upon Henry was the strangest thing he had ever experienced. For once he saw that time a long time ago when he had told Anne that they would always speak freely with each other and then the time not so long ago when, during a heated argument, Anne had shouted his own words at him in her defence through her eyes.

He could see how she must have felt to have been treated that way after all the time that he had treated her as the most precious woman in the land and let her speak freely of whatever came into her mind with him.

Henry also remembered other times that he had treated Anne so poorly and the feeling of guilt that was still present but had been disappearing with each passing day had not only strengthened but had engulfed him, leaving him almost despising himself for what he had done to that young woman.

Henry had stood up abruptly not caring about ceremony and had walked as fast as he could to Anne's rooms with one intention only. He had stormed into her presence and kissed her passionately before taking her to her bed.

He had needed her so much yesterday evening and looking back now it scared him. It was further evidence, in his now clear mind, that Anne was a witch for what else could have caused him to act so rashly? Anyway regardless of witchcraft, if she still held the power to pull him to her like she had done then she was still dangerous.

Henry had decided he would be rid of Anne and nothing now could change that. He needed a son for his country and he knew Anne was incapable of giving him one.

Henry couldn't let his unwelcome feelings towards Anne Boleyn get in the way of the rebirth that he and his future wife, Jane, were going to give to England.

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