the sword

a/n: heres my new story hope you like it no ev what the hell. i was gonna have weight of the world but couldn’t find accurate lyrics.

 

Anne Boleyn sat alone in the tower of London. She was going to die. All because she’d had sex with her brother. How could Anne Boleyn do something so wrong? She looked at her black beady eyes in the golden mirror. “I am still beautiful” she thought. Her long dark hair hung down like a flowing cascade of black oil. “But today I will die.” She said. Anne Boleyn was a gothic rose, and now was her time to wilt. She remembered her youth, running around her families really big house her bare feet against the cold stones. Her brother George, chasing after her. Oh how she’d loved him. His lightly tanned skin against her paleness. His touseled blond hair in the morning. Anne remembered it all so well. it was a dark and stormy night. The wind was blowing threw the windows into her room. It felt like ice against her skin. Anne slipped out of bed and to her brother’s room. “George I’m cold.” “Slip in my bed” he said. She lay down next to him and watched him drift off to sleep. “So peaceful..” Anne thought. “I want to kiss him” she thought. So she did kiss his red lips. Then his eyes opened. “Make love to me George” she whispered and he did. Threw the next few years Anne and George stole moments to be lovers whenever they could. Then came the whore named Jane. From the moment he met Jane, George was no longer Anne’s. Jane was bad for him Anne knew from the start. It started when Jane stole Anne’s poetry from her desk and mocked it mercilessly. She took a pen and made marks all through it, telling Anne what she had done wrong though it was clear Jane herself had no clue what good writing looked like. From then on Anne made it clear to Jane she disliked her. Anne was the tallest rose and she would not let Jane steal her sun. Anne also knew Jane was cheating on George with a whole bunch of other guys. And Jane couldn’t have children with him because she kept getting abortions. As Jane stole her brother from her, Anne tried a different path. She got involved with King Henry VIII who loved her deeply. He divorced his haggish wife to marry Anne and all was well with the world. Except Anne couldn’t have a son which wasn’t her fault. Henry then began to tire of her. Anne knew she had to get pregnant but didn’t think Henry could do it as he wasn’t really capable down there. So she begged George for one more night. One more. “No Anne I love Jane.” He said. “Please George.” “No.” “C’mon it will make us both happy.” And so he gave in and they made love over and over again. But Jane somehow knew of it. And she told Henry VIII. And now Anne was going to die. Anne kept brushing her hair. She put on her long black dress. She painted her face white as snow. And she cried. Her ladies guided her out to the scarfold. There was the sword. A blindford went over Anne’s eyes. And it was over. Her brother had died the day before but they would be together in heaven.