WARNING: FLAGGING THIS FOR SENSITIVE TOPICS

Eighteen hours. Anne's head was spinning from listening to Jane's constant screaming. What had started out as mild groans of pain had grown to desperate shrieks and then as time had dragged on to weak, desperate cries. Even if Anne still hated Jane as much as she had in the beginning, her heart would bleed for the woman. Coming to know her and caring for her at a certain degree had made hearing her pain that much more difficult. Anne remembered Elizabeth's birth and her first miscarriage-which had all the pain of a birth. She had thought that it was the worst pain imaginable, God's curse for womankind after Eve's betrayal.

But her labor for both of those times paled in comparison to what she imagined Jane was enduring. Anne winced again as a particularly wretched cry came from the queen's chambers. She sent another prayer for Jane's safety. She was passed praying for the babe. She had watched as the faces of the parade of midwives turned more and more grim and now she just prayed for the life of the mother. She knew Henry would probably choose his prince over any woman's life. Not that he would ever WANT to lose any wife to childbed, but it was unfortunately a common question whether to save the mother or the baby and she would bet everything she owned on what Henry's answer would be.

But Anne had been in that situation. She had put her life on the line trying to bring life into this world and she knew how terrifying it was. How everyone was considering you expendable as long as a healthy child came out of it. She would be missed and mourned, but ultimately, the child was what mattered. Anne did not think that that was fair. Another could always be conceived, but the mother's life...

So Anne prayed. She sat alone, head bowed, the only unmoving person in the turmoil that was the queen's chambers as midwives, doctors, and Jane's distraught sisters moved in a flurry around her.

She looked up out the newly uncovered windows and saw dawn gently rolling in. Jane was coming up on about twenty hours of constant pain. Anne held her head in her hands in desperation. She doubted Jane could make it. Then she heard a small cry from the room. A baby. A living baby. Anne stood and made her way though the crowd in the bedchamber and gasped at the sight. Bloody sheets, a way to pale Jane, and a tiny, whimpering infant in the arms of Doctor Linacre. Everyone seemed desperate to catch sight of the child, but Anne rushed to Jane's side. Their eyes met, and although exhausted and hazy, Anne could see the triumph and relief in her face. She reached out weakly and Anne grasped her hand. Her grip was abysmal and Anne smoothed some of the loose hair out of her sweaty face. She nodded at Jane encouragingly.

"What is it?" her voice was hoarse from her hours of screaming and Anne almost couldn't make out her words. She turned to Linacre, but his face was grim.

"A boy, Your Majesty..." Jane sobbed in relief, turning her face into Anne's shoulder. The other ladies also voiced mutters of approval and someone mentioned informing the king. "But... Your Majesty...the birth was very difficult. On the both of you. I...I don't know how long he is for this world"

His words sunk the room into silence as everyone processed them. The only sounds were the quiet whining from the weak babe in his arms. And then Jane burst into fresh tears.

"Can I hold him?" she gasped.

Linacre immediately moved to place the tiny bundle in her arms, muttering his condolences and then leaving. Outside of Jane, he was probably the second most exhausted person in the room and was probably also disappointed from not being able to bring them both out of the room safely. He had also seen his fair share of dead babies and Anne was sure he was just as tired of it as anyone. Her own heart broke for everyone in this room who had struggled the past hours, none more so than Jane.

She had fallen silent, gently running her shaking fingers over her little babies cheeks as he struggled to breathe. Anne had lost two little babies herself, but she had never struggled this much as had actually held them in her arms. She couldn't fathom the pain that Jane was experiencing in this moment. The others in the room had moved away, giving mother and son this moment together.

Anne felt her heart break. How many times had she cursed Jane Seymour's name. How many times had she prayed that the woman failed in giving Henry the son that she couldn't produce. In the heat of her anger she had even hoped for Jane's death. She stood and made her way out of the queens chambers, holding back tears as she left her rival to wait for her poor little boy to stop breathing.

A/N: Guys this was incredibly difficult to write. Please don't hate me.