On The Edge Of A Golden World: Anne Boleyn Lives On

Anytime Now...

Henry's P.O.V
The cries of a baby rings through the curtain. Noffolk and Boleyn come to a halting postion as George and I leap from our seats. I press my hands together, rubbing them with a waiting smile on my face. The two elder men look to me, grinning from cheek to cheek. We all hope for the same outcome. Anne delivered a healthy child, no question about it, but boy or girl. We won't find out right now, as another piercing scream sounds off from Anne from within the birthing chambers. "What's happening in there?" I rush over to enter, but find myself held back by my father-in-law. "No place for a man, your majesty." I break from his hold and step backward away from the entrance. "Something is wrong? Find out." Each man look between themselves, but no moving. "DO SOMETHING!"

Mary Boleyn comes rushing through the curtain with a concerned expression as Anne's cries continue. "Tell me, Mary, is your sister dying?" She's unsure of how to explain her response. "We aren't sure. Anne is delivering a second child, but she's weak and will need a miracle for them both to make it out alright. Your Majesty might need to think about which life to save if the time comes for such a choice." She left back into the birthing quaters without informing me of the first child's gender.

All of the Boleyn Clan turn to me, waiting for my answer. There are so many things at play here, though. Is the first child a boy? I still hear the quiet cries of my newest infant. A strong pair of lungs on that one. If it's a boy, then there is no need to put Anne's life at risk for an extra child. We could always have more in the future. But if the one already born is another girl, perhaps I might need to take the risk. Anne wants to be known as the mother of the future King of England. She'd agree to the child's life over her own anyday. But could I live with myself knowing I sent the mother of my children to her death. What will I say to Annebelle and Elizabeth when they arrive to meet the twins? How will I explain to the twins the death of their mother wasn't their fault? I would not be able to look upon the twins if I lose Anne.

"Anne...." All three gentlemen encourage mw to speak up. "If the rime arrives within these next moments to choose between the Queen and a second child, I will choose the Queen." For a moment they appear unconvinced, but gave reassuring expressions. About ten more minutes and Anne's screams cease. A minute or two later and another baby's cry, separate from the one before, fills the room. Anne's ladies take their time cleaning Anne and changing her sheets before coming out to give the full report. Mary comes out first with a bundle in her hand. Lady Cowell follows with a second bundle. "Your Majesty, meet your sons." Her words cause tears to swell in my eyes. Anne's borne two sons, not one. "Are they healthy?" The midwife steps out of the birthing chambers. "As healthy as Princesss Annebelle was, probably even more." I nod, grateful for her assitance. "And Anne..."

Mary gives my son to me, then grips my shoulder. "My sister will be fine. She'll need rest before she's ready for anything, but other than that, she's well." I look over to the midwife. "Can she still concieve?" The old woman agrees. "I do not reccomennd she returns to her martial duties for another six months. If she falls pregnant, it's very unlikely to end well." I turn my attention to the small boy in arms. He has the Anne's dark hair and my blue eyes. "He is the Duke of York, your Majesty." I look over to Lady Cowell, gesturing for her to bring over my eldest son. "That makes him my heir." He is perfect. Same tudor red hair as Elizabeth with Anne's eyes.  "Thankfully, it'll be easy to tell them apart." Placing a kiss on both children I hand them back over to the women and make my way over to Anne's bedside.

She's peacefully sleeping as I bring her hand in mine, kissing it. I remove a loose strand of hair from her face, kissing her forehead. She stirs, but does not awake. I kiss her lips, pressing my forehead to hers. "Thank you."