Anne watches her brother die.
Anne watches Mark die.
Anne watches Norris die.
Anne watches Francis die.
Anne watches William die.
She winces every time the axe swings down, unable to contain her sobs. George, her heart whispered, Oh god I am so sorry. Her heartbreak no longer allowed her to feel any anger towards those who had had her dear innocent brother condemned and so she watched helplessly as the rest of her supposed lovers were sentenced to die.
This is all my fault, she thinks, if only I had stayed in France, if only I had—
“No,” she snaps out loud, wringing her hands together before angrily swiping at her tears. I am not to blame for this. It is Cromwell. It is my father and Norfolk and Brandon— My only crime is that I could not bare a son.
Still, that knowledge do
