I've always wanted to write something for The Tudors, and after seeing a clip of this scene from the second season, I had my inspiration. It just sort of flowed from there.

The Tudors and most of the dialogue from this scene are the property of ShowTime and the writers. I'm just a fan.

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She knew her last chance had come and gone. With the miscarriage, she had not only lost her child; she'd lost her husband as well. He'd turned cold as ice towards her, and Anne knew time was running out. She didn't know what to think – would he divorce her? Would she be sent into exile, or worse?

And her heart froze at these thoughts. Her worries were not for herself, but for her daughter. Elizabeth. What would happen to Elizabeth?

She was the king's true wife, Elizabeth was his true heir. She wouldn't stand by as Henry but her aside for his little wench, shutting her into a nunnery and making Elizabeth a bastard. And she knew what would happen if Jane Seymour married her husband – the Lady Mary would be returned to favor, and God knew where Elizabeth would go. History was repeating itself; she had caused the very same things to happen to Katherine, and now the tides were turning on her.

Well, she knew for certain that she would not let that happen. She would never give up, for her child's sake more than her own.

Elizabeth was playing with her nurse in her room, happily unaware of the rift between her parents, and Anne went to her first, giving the nurse her leave and gathering the giggling child into her arms. She hoped that Elizabeth would soften Henry, as she always did. The precocious child melted her father's heart of stone. She stroked her daughter's golden hair, murmuring softly to her.

"It'll be alright, Lizabet." She used the nickname she used for the child, though it was more for her own benefit. Elizabeth looked up at her mother with her dark eyes. With Anne's eyes. They questioned her; what was wrong? "We need to talk to Daddy."

Anne began walking in the direction of the garden, where she knew her husband to be out for a walk. She walked more quickly, stepping out of the castle and up the stairs. Henry was just arriving at the spot, and he froze at the sight of his wife and daughter. Anne spoke first.

"Henry, please."

His eyes instantly turned to cold blue stones, clouded with fury, and he turned, walking off the direction he had come without a word. Anne followed behind him, struggling for what to say to him.

"Henry. Please." Her voice wavered slightly, but she kept her pace. "For the love you bear our child. For the love of Elizabe-"

"You lied to me!" He cut her off sharply, his back to her, anger dripping from his tone. Anne flinched slightly at the harshness of his tone, stunned. "You always lied to me!"

"No!" She cried back, chasing after him in desperation. He was fighting, as she'd known he would. He whirled around, pointing his finger in her face, his eyes accusing her.

"You were not a virgin when you married me! Your father and your brother arranged everything." He turned and started walking again, looking almost disgusted.

"No!" She shouted again, still following him. She could feel cracks forming at the edges of her heart. But he wanted that; he wanted to break her so she wouldn't fight anymore. She held Elizabeth tighter, reminding herself what she fought for. And she fought for her heart as well. "I loved you!" And she had. She had borne him a love that was unmatchable. And now it was slowly slipping through her fingers, like sand. Like the blood of their lost child.

Anne's pace increased and she stepped in front of him, blocking his path. He looked at her, his face unchanging. Like a statue with its face set in permanent anger for eternity.

"I loved you." She spoke softly but passionately, putting a hand on his chest. "And I love you still. Please, after everything we've been to each other, after everything we were." She poured her heart into the words, and her voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "Please."

Henry's eyes never moved from her face. His jaw was set, his eyes like stones. It became clear he would not be moved. Anne walked up the stairs so that she was standing above him, so he could see his wife and child clearly in front of him.

"One more chance." She begged desperately. Elizabeth's arms tightened around her neck. Anne's eyes fell on Henry, begging and pleading with him. She could make a son, she could make it better if he would only let her try.

She remembered the times she had spent looking in his eyes – what had happened to the passion that had once filled those eyes when he looked at her. What had happened to them? Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought.

"One more."

Henry made no reply. He walked up, trying to push past her. She put her hand up to stop him, but he moved right on through, his eyes seeming to look right through her. The tears choked in Anne's throat, her breath coming in desperate gasps.

"Your Majesty!" She choked, further tightening her grasp on Elizabeth, her heart, and what was left of her marriage. "Your Majesty, I beseech you!"

She never got a reply, and her heart finally gave way. Her daughter buried her tiny face into Anne's shoulder, her way of trying to comfort her. Feeling weak in her legs, Anne collapsed to the ground, hugging Elizabeth to her chest as tears spilled onto her cheek. She kissed the girl's forehead and felt a warm hand on her cheek.

"Mama." Elizabeth whispered, seeing the fear and heartbreak in her mother's eyes, somehow sensing it. Her wide black eyes read the emotion of Anne's face, and her eyes glistened as well.

"It'll be alright, Lizabet." Anne said softly, choking on the words that she now knew to be a complete lie. It would never be alright again. There would be no second chance. For either of them. They were alone now.

But they had each other. Come what may, they would always have each other.

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