AN: Those of you who have read my previous work know that I am usually VERY Anti Anne/Elizabeth. However, I have recently begun trying to like Anne more. Also, I know that in The Tudors, JRM's hair is not red, but historically Henry's hair was red, well, at least in most of his portraits.


Anne had always wanted a daughter.

Even when she, as well as the whole of Europe knew that her position depended wholly upon the child in her womb, for it to be a son.

Still, at night, when she lay beside Henry, her dreams were entirely different from his.

He dreamed of a son with his red hair and blue eyes. A strong son whom he could teach to joust and ride, with whom could be a companion to his nephew, Henry.

Who would someday become Henry IX.

Who would be followed by several brothers.

Anne, however, dreamed of a daughter.

A daughter that also shared her father's striking features, the most intelligent girl in Europe, one whom she could teach to speak French, how to dance and read the bible in English.

Oh, she wanted a son.

She did, truly.

But she longed- for reasons she could not explain- for a daughter.

So that when a daughter slips out of her womb instead of the promised son, on the 7th of September, 1533, she is not as surprised as she should be.

In her half conscious state, when she holds her daughter, she wonders briefly whether Katharine had ever felt this way.

Felt as though she had been given a blessing and curse, all at the same time.

A blessing.

For now she had a child. A living, breathing child.

And that was the greatest gift she could have ever been given.

A curse.

She was not a son.

She would not make Anne safe.

As she holds her child in her arms.

Faces him bravely.

Tells him she was sorry.

You and I are both young.

And by God's grace, boys will follow.

Anne wonders whether Henry had said that to Katharine after she had presented him with Mary, rather than a son.

She wonders whether Henry had said that he loved Katharine the night before Mary was born, and then never said it after.

Most of all, Anne wonders whether this was somehow all her fault.

Because she longed for a little girl with red hair, rather than the son that everyone else wanted her to have.