"Jane!" I drank in the sight of her. She was still a little dull and plain- no Anne, no Catherine of Aragon, even. But I cherished her for her heart. "Greetings. Have you forgotten me, darling?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Never," I swore. "You died for my heir. You gave me all your devotion and my little Edward." I longed to touch her, but she stayed out of my grasp. "You were the perfect wife, the perfect Queen," I praised her. "I am glad to have pleased you, for I loved you with all my heart, and only you." But her eyes were sad. I didn't understand. "You were the best and worst thing that ever happened to me."
"No!" I broke down and felt her embrace me at last. "I loved you! I loved you the most!" Her long blonde hair tickled my cheek. Her pale dove blue eyes shone with tears. "But you frightened and threatened me, Henry. Had I borne you a daughter and lived... would I have lost my head for nothing too?" "You didn't! You gave me a son, and God took you from me." I wanted to shred the world to bits, but I didn't know who I was mad at. "I swear to Him I'll be buried with you! I never forgot you!"
She comforted and consoled me. "Do you hate me as they do?" I wondered. "Anne and Catherine do not hate you, darling," she said, not in a chiding manner, but in a sweet one. "I will beg God to pardon you for your sins, my love." She left a gentle kiss on my forehead, and vanished. I closed my eyes, basking in the bliss and serenity of her. Jane Seymour, the eye of my storm.
"Henry!" I reopened my eyes, and before me was the beauty I had once worshipped.