Disclaimer: If it were mine, the series would be historical AU, not the fanfiction. Though in some ways the show is historical AU… Anyway, you get the point.

Special thanks to ReganX for helping me get this off the ground, and also to cap red and DineinDina for being part of the idea-bouncing. Also, in this story, I'm rearranging things a little. Mary Boleyn preceded Bessie Blount as mistress; therefore, Anne was in England and one of Katherine's ladies when Henry Fitzroy was born.

Prologue – One Moment: One moment can change your life. One moment can change your world. It can be just a little thing: a sentence spoken aloud, a sudden change in the weather, even a brief meeting of eyes. Such a small thing, but it can make everything different.

Anne Boleyn knew she and her sister would be returning to England after the summit between Kings Henry and Francis, something she could not be excited about. She had lived abroad for much of her life, first as a child in the court of Marguerite of Navarre, and then as a maid in waiting to Her Majesty Queen Claude of France. She was far more French than she was English, and it left her feeling oddly homesick at the thought of leaving France behind forever.

It wouldn't be so bad for Mary, not now. Anne shook her head, torn as always about her sister. Mary had been King Francis' mistress – he'd even shared her with some of his favored courtiers, as if she were a possession! – and now… now she had slept with the King of England as well. But it wasn't just Mary Anne was thinking of, though she knew that, undoubtedly, her sister would soon be discarded in favor of someone else.

She was also thinking of Queen Katherine, as she had often thought of Queen Claude when Francis paraded his mistresses. At least King Henry appeared to be more discreet, but all stories of the Spanish queen said she was intelligent, so she had to know he was unfaithful. Anne couldn't imagine having to watch as her husband took mistresses before her eyes. Even if she did not love him, she didn't think she could bear to see such blatant disregard.

Mary burst into the tent they shared, her eyes bright. "Oh, Anne, King Henry is amazing! He…"

Anne let her sister chatter away about how wonderful being with the king had been, how he was surely the man she loved. She had come to think that her sister was in love with love. Personally, Anne wasn't sure she saw the appeal. What did love do but bring a broken heart?

Just over two years later, Anne was sure she was right. She and Mary had become ladies in waiting to Queen Katherine, though Mary had left for her new husband's house soon after. The King had tired of her and she'd been married off. The girls' father had made a few comments about Anne taking her sister's place, but the King's eye landed on Bessie Blount before he could order her to do anything. For that, Anne was grateful. She'd only been in the Queen's service for a little over six months at the time, but she already didn't want to betray the Queen who'd been nothing but polite to her and Mary, despite knowing Mary's role at court.

Tonight, the Queen had all of Anne's admiration. Bessie had fallen pregnant, and had just a day ago given birth to a son. He had been christened Henry, in the King's honor, and the court was celebrating almost as though a legitimate prince had been born. Anne thought, that if she were the one whose husband was celebrating the birth of his child by another woman so extravagantly, that she would have locked herself in her bedchamber to rage or to weep. But the Queen did not do either of these things. Instead, she entered the banquet hall with her head held high and toasted the new baby, her eyes never leaving the King's. Then she turned and left, with her two attendants following.

When they reached the Queen's rooms, Anne and the other girl, Margaret Darcy, helped the Queen change into nightclothes. Then she dismissed them both. Maggie left immediately – she wanted to go to the party – but Anne hesitated. "Your Majesty?" she said quietly.

Katherine, who had been about to pray, stopped and turned, looking at the slender young woman in the doorway, looking so uncertain. She didn't want her ladies afraid of her. "Yes, Mistress Anne?"

"I… You didn't have to do that, for Bessie's son," Anne said, throwing caution to the wind. "No one could have possibly expected you to…"

"But I did, Mistress Anne," Katherine said with a sad smile. "I had to because I required it of myself. But it is kind of you to say that." Their eyes met, for just one moment, and that one moment was too much.

Anne nodded, curtseyed, and fled, suddenly unable to be in the same room with the stoic Queen any longer. Two corridors away she stopped and leaned against the stone wall, her heart racing. Something had happened, just then, when she had met the Queen's eyes properly for the first time. She had been loyal to Katherine from the very beginning, as was proper, but everyone in her family had commented on how stridently loyal she had become, an attitude that was, as her father pointed out, inconvenient in a young woman who may yet be primed to take the King's eye.

She had thought it more of what had driven her loyalty to Queen Claude; a natural sympathy for the wronged wife of an errant husband. But even before now, that had not made sense. King Henry was normally discreet, enough so that his wife knew that he took mistresses, but she never had it displayed in front of her. Anne suspected that this was part of why Mary had lost the King's interest so quickly; she loved her sister, but Mary wasn't the most practical-minded of girls, and she hadn't exactly been discreet about her relationship with the King.

But now she knew she'd been wrong, very wrong. This wasn't sympathy, not even close. What it was, Anne didn't dare even name to herself. But she knew everything was different now. Just as she knew her father was right about her loyalty being inconvenient should he want her to become the King's mistress. Because she would not betray the Queen in any way, not even if it cost her everything. She knew that now. And in her heart of hearts she knew why; she just could not acknowledge it. But it was the truth, and it would not change. All of this, from just one moment.

A/N: OK, this was a little odd, but I promise after this chapter the writing style is more of a proper story. I had to use the prologue to set the stage and this was the best way I could think of.