With each step, I draw nearer.

Strange, how oddly reminiscent of the walk down the marriage aisle this painfully short journey is. But the stark contrast, whilst that was my moment of triumph this is one of utter degradation. A show for those hundreds of eyes staring at me as the crowd draws in their breath as one. I do hope they are entertained, I do so hope they won't go home disappointed.

My last great act, how much of my life has been played to an audience?

I didn't expect the silence. I thought they would be jeering, calling those hateful names after me as I walked flanked by sobbing maids but this... quiet is almost more unnerving. The anger of the past few months appears to have dissipated, to be replaced with a fear that pervades this watchful green. They have realised then. They know as well as I do that I have created a monster, and that the golden boy who laughed readily and loved easily is now a tyrant with a twisted mind and a bitter heart.

The wooden rail is warm under my fingers as I feel the touch of the first step through the thin leather sole of my shoe. I will not cry. I will raise my eyes to Heaven, where I am sure Katherine is seated looking down at me. He would not have treated her so, although her death was suffering enough. I know he still loved her, and yet he tore her own daughter away from her. That, is evil.

Oh my baby, my Elizabeth. My hand trembles on the rail as a lump rises in my throat. My poor, sweet baby, I didn't ever deserve her. I have reached the top, and yet I shall not let my gaze drift towards the planks of wood that must now surely be stained with blood. Innocent blood, and yet in these turbulent times who presumes to define innocence but the king?

A face in a sea of indistinct strangers, it is her, Mary! As I turn fully towards the mass of people, both hands clenching the bar before me I stare at her, my heart leaping with ill suppressed hope at the sight of her. A reprieve? Please God let there be a reprieve! Through the frenzied flurry of my thoughts I can just hear the galloping of hooves and I long to throw my head back and laugh for pure, unadulterated joy. He loves me, his wife, and his rose.

There is no reprieve. No forgiveness.

My eyes close as a weight beyond description almost bears me to my knees, to the red wood below me. I can feel the breeze brush my face, never have I appreciated the beauty of life so much, never have I wanted so desperately to live! A shaking voice that does not belong to me addresses the people, and I can see only pity where once there was hatred. I hand my killer a purse containing his fee for a busy morning, and part of me marvels that I am paying this ugly man to end my life.

And there it is. My fate, which has hung above my head since birth, waiting. I, who was the sparkling life of the court. Dry eyed, I kneel before the block, resting one pale hand against the edge. I take my last look of the world before a rough cloth is bound around my eyes and I am deprived of sight forever. I feel my way, lowering my neck into the smooth, warm dip in the wood.

I am Anne Boleyn.

May God have mercy on my soul.

I stretch my arms out to the sides.