He is a lustful man, that he will not deny. From the moment he was free of his suppressing father and a crown was placed upon his head, Henry took full advantage of the noblemen who were willing to give their daughters to him to gain his favor.

He loved Katherine, especially in those first years of their marriage before miscarriages and his dead sons.

He loved his wife. His sweet, gentle Jane who smiled prettily at his side and held her tongue.

But there had only been one woman among many who had truly stolen his heart and soul.

It was her eyes. With one piercing gaze, he had been hers, and he was determined to give her her heart's desires despite having to tear apart his country and killing his subjects, even his dear friends, to do so. Alas, her inability to give him his promised son had sealed her fate, and though he was loathe to even consider another man touching her, taking what is his, he had had to let her go and had readily accepted the accusations that sullied her name.

England needed a Prince, and Anne Boleyn would never give him one. He hated her. She was meant to give him many sons, for any child of theirs was destined to be brilliant. Everything that he loved about her also made him hate her. Her sharp tongue, her insufferable intelligence, her lustful ways and passionate temper. Those damn eyes that once flashed with love excitement now looked at him with fear.

Alas, the moment she was sent from court with her daughter, he missed her. Each day that passed with no news from Pembroke tore down his hatred. As the months passed by and Jane did conceive, his resolve crumbled as the date crept closer to Elizabeth's birthday. He had been harsh to his daughter, for he had no doubt that he was her father. Who else could have produced a child such as she?

Each night he lay with his wife in hope to get a child on her, he wondered if Anne missed him as he missed her. He would look at Jane and wish that she had dark hair and paler skin. He wished that she would answer him back and discuss her favorite books with him. But his wife remained the quiet, docile wife that he had desired. He loved her, he truly did.

But he wanted more. More than what his wife could give him and more than any mistress had to offer.

And so he had given the order for her presence at court.

He was a selfish man. It mattered not what his wife wanted, nor even Anne herself. He had to see her again, no matter who it hurt.

But to see her there once more, it was as though they were meeting for the first time once again. Her eyes hooked him in, and once again, he was entrapped by Anne Boleyn. Just a moment spent in her presence and he felt like a young man once again, eager to please his love.

He had to have her once more.

Anne hid herself away in her rooms from days with nobody for company but for Nan and Elizabeth when she was sent for. Claiming illness, she turned away all visitors and dismissed her ladies. Nan's worried gaze followed her every move, alas her good friend held her tongue and wasted her days at her side.

Her uncle's words echoed in her head repeatedly. "I think that perhaps now that you are no longer his wife and without the need for you to give him a son, the King fancies himself in love with you once more."

Her former husband was a fickle man and easily distracted by a young pretty thing put in his line of sight. Yet when it came to her, Henry was relentless. Whether it was to gain her affections or to rid himself of her, Henry devoted all of his efforts to get his desires. Presenting her with a gift was just the start of it.

Knowing it was useless, she resigned herself to eventually confronting the matter.

Just not yet.

On the fifth day of her confinement, he sent for her. It was inevitable, but the King was not known to be a patient man. Nan pleaded for her to be left alone, but it was to no avail. It was a direct order from the King, and so Anne held her head high and allowed herself to be escorted. The moment she stepped outside her stomach dropped as she found her eyes meeting George's. In a seething silence, she took his offered arm and allowed herself to be escorted to the King's quarters.

"How could you?" she hissed quietly as the guards walked ahead of them. "After everything that has happened how could you?"

"We need this, Anne," her brother replied. His hand tightened on hers. "Father needs you to do this-"

"For what?" Anne snapped, staring hatefully at her brother. "To gain favor? I will not go to his bed. Have you not learned your lesson George?"

"Yes you will. Father has ordered it."

Anne tore her hand from his and clenched her fist to quell the urge to strike at him. "Did you not hear me before? I do not take orders from that man any longer. I have no need of him, nor of you. You forget that I am a Duchess, brother. The time that I was pushed into a man's bed has long since passed. If you wish to gain the King's favor, perhaps you should go to his bed. How is Mark these days? Has he regained movement in his hands yet?"

George flinched away from her but otherwise ignored her. "You can be happy, Anne," he said softly. They arrived at the King's quarters and George took her hand once more. "Without the need for a son, you can finally have him and be happy."

Anne shook her head sadly. "Do not act as though my feelings matter to you brother."

"Anne-"

With one last look, she turned away from her brother and waited for the door to be opened. "Goodbye George."

The King was waiting for his, his eyes fixed firmly upon her the moment she announced. "Your Majesty," Anne murmured, her eyes fixed firmly on the ground as she curtseyed. She had thought herself prepared, but just being in his presence scattered all of her carefully laid out plans.

"You may rise, Your Grace," he said smoothly, her title coming from his lips sent a shiver down her spine. Anne met his gaze, and she knew that she was in trouble. "Did you not like my gift?"

"Your Majesty is too generous. I have no need for such gifts."

Henry took a step closer, his face alight with mirth. "Is this a game? You once deemed it inappropriate to receive a gift from a married man. You said that you were protecting your virtue. Is this some agenda cooked up with your father?"

Anne refrained from snorting. Her virtue was something long lost to her. "There is no agenda, Your Majesty."

Henry tilted his head to the side and regarded her intently. "There was a time when you received my gifts with gratitude and a smile. What has changed?"

Anne's mouth pressed into a thin line. I have changed, she wished to reply. After everything, how can you still ask this of me? Instead she smiled tightly and replied, "Your Majesty would be best bestowing gifts on another who is worthy of his affections."

Henry stepped closer to her, his eyes looking at her in a way that made her feel ten years younger. "What if it is you I find worthy?" he asked.

Anne remained silent, struggling to find a suitable answer.

"I have missed you, Anne," Henry breathed. He took her hand in his gently placed her palm upon his cheek. He sank into her touch, and for a moment Anne felt her resolve crumble. This was her Henry. The sweet man who loved nothing more than to feel her touch even for a pew precious seconds. His hands rested upon her shoulders and slowly traveled down her arms. Even through the silk of her dress his touch ignited a fire within her that she had thought extinguished forever.

"Come to my bed tonight," he whispered against her ear.

"Henry," she whispered. "I cannot." She curled her fingers against his shoulders, unsure if she was pulling him closer or pushing him away. He was too close. Her head was spinning. Everything that they were and everything they could be once again flashed through her mind. The memory of his touch, the taste of him and the feel of his lips against hers, how he felt as he made love to her in a frenzied passion, it all came rushing back. She had tried so hard to forget, but with him so close she could not think clearly.

Henry grabbed her and pulled her towards him and pressed a gentle kiss to her neck - the very neck he had wanted to be cut in half.

What am I doing?

His lips descended lower and lower, each kiss burning her skin but suddenly her mind was clear.

"I have always loved your neck."

Disgusted with herself, Anne pushed him away but to no avail. "Let me go."

"Anne?"

"Let me go! I still stand by what I said all of those years ago. I will not go to your bed unless I am your wife."

Henry's hands tightened around her waist. "I love you-"

"No!" Anne snapped, finally pushing him away. "Perhaps you did once, but not anymore. How can you claim to love me when you have treated me so?"

Henry clenched his jaw. "Do not proceed to tell me my feelings. I love you Anne. Look me in the eye and tell me you do not return my affections."

"You hurt me," Anne said, her voice breaking. "I loved you so much, and King or not, I was your wife. You did not respect me, not like you did Katherine. You flaunted your mistresses in front of me, you punished me for our children dying! They may have been nothing but an heir to you, but to me they were my babies! I felt them grow inside of me, I felt them move, and every time I felt them die. And even after all of that I loved you still and yet you still tossed me aside!"

He remained silent for a moment. Anne silently pleaded with him to apologize, to condemn his hateful actions, but there was no remorse in his hard eyes as they stared down at her.

"It does no good to dwell on the past. God has seen it fit for us to be brought back together once more. Let us not waste this chance. There is no need for you to give me a son, we can be happy once more without the pressure-"

Anne backed away from him, shaking her head. "Of course the past matters. At least it does to me. Despite what this court says, I am not a whore. I may have been pushed into your arms and your bed, but I loved you. I will not do this again. If you have any love left for me, then leave me be. Do not make me watch you have a child with another woman, for I do not think I can bear it. I beg you, let me live in peace away from court and you never have to lay eyes upon me again."

Henry looked at her long and hard. "You are free to leave court when you please," he said at last. Anne let out a relieved breath. "But Elizabeth will remain at court."

"No!" Anne cried, staring at him in horror. "Henry you promised that she would remain with me-"

"Elizabeth will remain at court," he repeated, his voice taking on a steely edge. "It will be good for her to remain at court. Jane will see to it that she is well taken care of. It is time that they get better acquainted. If you wish to take your leave, then that is your choice Madam."

"You have taken everything away from me," Anne spat, her hatred of him seeping into her very soul. "You will not take me daughter from me. If you think for a moment that I would allow that wench to mother my daughter then you are a fool!"

"She is your Queen!" Henry shouted, finally losing his temper with her. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "You will show her the respect that she deserves, for she has been a far more courteous Queen and wife than you ever were."

Anne pushed him away and looked at him in disbelief. "You dare to lay a hand on me?" she hissed. "You asked me if I loved you still? My answer is no! Though you have his face, the man that I loved is dead. How could I possibly you?"

Henry spluttered in outrage and struck her firmly across the cheek. Anne cried out, tears springing to her eyes at the unexpected pain. Her eyes met his in disbelief as she put a hand to her stinging cheek.

"I am the King of England!" Henry spat, his face growing red in his anger. "I could take you right now in this room and not one person would could to your aid, no matter your pleas. Not even your own brother. You are mine to do with as I please."

Anne shrunk away from him, horror and disgust evident in her eyes as she looked upon the monster of a man she had helped create.

"I am not yours. Not even when I loved you most, you never claimed my soul, my love," Anne spat. "I was a fool to give you my heart all those years ago, and I was a fool to even consider the possibility of letting you in once more. It appears that when it comes to you, I do not learn. Alas, hear me when I promise you that you will not have my body," Anne breathed. "And you most certainly will not have my love. Oh, you can force me to stay at court, you may even force yourself on me, but you will do so with the knowledge that I do not want you, that I hate you. You disgust me. From this day, you are nothing to me, Henry Tudor."

With that, she left finally feeling that a weight had been lifted off of her chest. Anne flinched as she heard Henry's roar of outrage but she did not turn back. Her nerves could not handle another confrontation. She hid her shaking hands in her skirts and fled from him and the curious stares of his guards and George's horrified eyes. Tears sprang to her eyes and she could barely catch her breath. The curious stares and furious whispers that followed in her wake did not register and it was only until she walked straight into a body that she awoke from her flustered state.

Strong hands steadied her before she went flying. Anne blinked and found herself staring into the eyes of an irritated Charles Brandon.

"Your Grace," Brandon said stiffly, his hands tightening on her shoulders. "Perhaps you should pay attention to your surroundings." Anne could only stare at him. "My Lady, are you alright?" he asked, his hard eyes suddenly concerned as they lingered on her bruising cheek.

Anne opened her mouth to reply but she could find no words. Instead she let out a disbelieving peal of laughter. The Duke looked at her as though she had gone mad, but Anne did not even spare him a thought.

For the first time since she was a child she was free. Free from her ambitious father and treacherous brother.

And finally free of Henry Tudor.