Tripping over Time

*19th of May 1536, Tower of London*

Anne Boleyn buried her face into her pale palms, silent tears finally flowing from her dark eyes. She had managed not to cry up to that point, for the sake of her ladies in waiting. There was her closest friend, Nan who sat next to her on the cot, known to others as Anne Gainsford who had been with her for most of her time as a noblewoman as well as queen. Then sat Margery Horsman far off by the door, who at that moment was sowing embroidery. Finally, Elizabeth Holland was gazing out at the window, also crying for there was clear view of the scaffold where her brother, Thomas, arrested for incest with Anne, had died just hours before. All were dressed in black chiffon dresses, already prepared to mourn their soon to be dead queen. These young women that surrounded her, all in their best gowns, furs and jewels; these were the most important people in her final hours, up to that very point. Before that moment, she hadn't shed a single tear, yet like most who were placed in the Tower of London to await their death, she had succumbed to dread. After all, violent death ordered by someone who claimed to love her, marry her and bear a beautiful daughter with her, had not been expected.

"A visitor", called out the guardsman on the other side of the iron-and-wood prison door. The door creaked loudly as it swung open, showing a disheveled Thomas Wyatt who was also in mourning attire. His face was weary unsurprisingly; she remembered that he too was arrested like many others and accused of committing adultery with Anne herself. Many innocent men had died those past few days, and he, the only one to have loved her before her marriage, had been let go. Anne knew not whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

He looked like a true man. It was if he had gone from a lovesick boy-poet to a fully formed man. Only then did she truly wish she had not been so power-hungry and vain, and could have seen him for his true potential earlier. Perhaps if she had then she wouldn't have been so foolish. Perhaps she would have survived until the next day, and those after it.

"Thomas? I thought you the last person ever wishing to visit me," Anne said, wiping away her tears as she stood up from the bed, her three companions moving to all sit on the bed, averting their eyes as some sort of privacy. She looked him over; he had changed so much, his brown eyes had lost their vigor of an ambitious poet, his hair was turning from brown to grey prematurely, he looked worn, but wise.

"Scorned hearts can be forgiving, Anne. Especially whilst the temptress that hurt the prey, awaits her death," Standing a foot taller than her, he took Anne's hands into his own, holding them tightly as he attempted to smile. Instead of a smile there were just more tears between them.

"You were always clever with words, dear Thomas. Yet, how am I supposed to believe you just forgive and forget. I know you too well for such a trick, especially after what you have just been through. Even the King isn't as forgiving as you claim to be."

"The King is a paranoid man, simply angered because like himself, you can't be controlled. Nor can your temper. Your wild independence, something he once took intrigue in, came to an end like all intrigues. Its unfortunate, but true."

Anne walked to and fro from the barred-window, taking a seat on the wooden bench beneath it. Her nose cringed from the dank smell of the damp room, her throat choking once more as she pictured her old quarters, all lavish with fine silks, tapestries, and comforts. All adorned with people waiting for her to enter and serve her, with courtiers feigning friendship to receive rewards from her and the King. The life and luxury of a queen. This prison cell, was of no such comparison or comfort. Thoughts transporting through time, she began to think of life if it had been with Thomas. Though for most of their non-sexual liaison, a teenage romance if you will, he had been unsuitably married, a woman who had passed on during Anne's marriage to King Henry VIII.

If not Thomas, maybe someone else, anyone else but the man that now condemned her, her husband who at that very moment was moving on to his next wife. The pursuit of this man, Henry Tudor, was a failure, and its consequences were too painful for Anne to bear, nor live through. When she glanced to the window, looking upon the scaffold that her little neck was to be placed upon, thinking of the swordsman who would slice off her head; she struck epiphany.

The afterlife.

This thought brought a gentle smile that had been rare for those past months of trials, accusations and sorrow. The afterlife, where mistakes can be reformed; she could love again, a true, uncorrupted love, with no ambitious monsters forcing her to choose wrongly. A love with Thomas. "Thomas...promise me something," She began very slowly, her lips pursing together to hold in her passion. When she stood, she faced him directly, her eyes steadfast with his.

"I will do anything, Anne. Is it to watch over your daughter Elizabeth? That would be a duty I shall take on honorably,"

"Yes, that I suppose as well. But there is more, involving you and I. I want you to swear to me, on your oath and all of your honor, that when you die as well, that you'll find me in the afterlife. If heaven is what awaits us, though many say otherwise for myself, we could be together. Promise me that you will find me after your deed of watching over Elizabeth is done. Promise me." This was no question, no question for the aging Master Wyatt, this was a command, her last as a Queen.

His eyes widened with surprise. Before he could reply, Anne persisted, "For it is in the afterlife that you can love me once more, without scorn nor wreckage of heart. That, is my own promise. Now I beg you, I ask of you to make yours,"

Thomas' face creased as he smiled, imaging in his mind what she had only just moments before; her epiphany of the afterlife.

Love. An uncorrupted love. What better thing could there be than this? "I promise." He stated in all simplicity, bowng his head low to not show his tears, his legs bending to sink to the cold stone floor. Kneeling to the floor as well, Anne embraced her love for the last time, buring her face into his shoulder as she wept as well, "Thank you, Thomas I shall keep my promise. I shall wait for you," She murmured against his doublet, her hands clinging to it as she clung to him.

Before any more words could be said, or embraces could be had, she heard the clink as the guardsmen pulled open the door. "Your Majesty, it's time." Thomas watched as Anne's ladies in waitint began to weep whilst they followed her outside. The Queen, now to loose her head and life, looked back only once towards Thomas, then forward to her fate.

Weeping heavily he exclaimed, "I swear it Anne I will find you again," HIs voice, a croaky whisper, as his tears overcame his eyes and voice, "I swear it."