Title: Second Chance

Author: Cruelangel101

Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters (uh maybe the ones that I make up), not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?

Detailed Summary: Anne Stafford is a twenty-five year old successful English business woman. She was on the rise to the top; however, a freak accident sends her back into the past, the Tudor era, where she finds herself in the body of a twenty year old Anne Boleyn who was in the middle of her courtship with King Henry VIII. What is a modern girl to do in a world where men's words were law and women could do little but obey their fathers and husbands? Court, manipulations, danger, politics and the occasional humor await her. Can she fight against time itself and forever change history or would she be resigned to her fate the second time around? Hm…time travel fics are not new again, but I don't think anyone has done a fic where Anne traveled back to the past to be herself.

Pairings: Anne/Henry VIII

AN: If you read this story when it was posted originally please re-read the part where Anne wakes up in the past, it has been changed completely.

Prologue: The Accident

Some say that we are reborn after death, starting anew, but what if the past injustices have made such an impression on one's soul, that even rebirth could not erase its history.

May 19th, 2011, Oxford University, England

"Henry the Eighth of England became infamous in history for his six wives. Each of these wives has also left their marks. Katherine of Aragon was a princess twice over from Spain. She was originally the wife of King Henry's brother, the Prince of Wales, Arthur Tudor. But Arthur died early in their marriage. The young Duke of York was besotted with his sister-in-law and despite oppositions from his advisors he married her. Historians generally agree that the couple had been happy in the first years of their marriage.

"You will have remembered from our last lecture that one of the reasons for the war of the Roses that nearly tore England apart had been due to problems with the succession. Henry VIII became obsessed with having a son. After years of marriage with only a daughter to succeed him, he became impatient. Anne Boleyn was the daughter of his ambassador to France, and the character of much speculation in our culture today. How many of you have seen or read the Other Boleyn girl?" Half of the class raised their hand, the man continued, "But do not confuse fiction with history, Ladies and Gentleman," he laughed, "I guarantee that you will not pass this class if you base your facts on the movie or the book.

"Anne's sister, Mary Boleyn was an acknowledge mistress of the King, a fact that will become important later on. Anne and her sister grew up in France, and thus were educated by the Renaissance French court. Anne was one of the most well educated women of her time. She was not a conventional beauty by the standards of the time. Most of the accounts of her appearance had been from the poetry that she inspired. And indeed she was at the center of attention at court, and drew men to her like moth to flame.

"She was intelligent and perhaps, often described as a woman before her time. She knew that the King often became bored with his mistresses as had been the case with Mary Boleyn, and so she chose another tactic. She denied him. For a King who always got what he wanted, he became obsessed with her rejection and was determined to marry her. One thing stood in his way, his wife, Katherine of Aragon. He needed to set her aside, but her nephew had just sacked Rome, as I am sure you still remember from a few lectures back, and the Pope would not grant him an annulment. Thus the King broke from the Church and created his own, becoming the head and as you will notice, the most powerful man in England.

"He then declared that his marriage to Katherine of Aragon to be invalid based on the fact that she had been his brother's wife, even though Queen Katherine had sworn an oath before their marriage that the marriage between her and Prince Arthur was never consummated. The Queen was then pushed aside and banished from court where she would live out the rest of her live in harsh conditions until she died shortly after. Her cause of death had been of some controversy at the time. It was stated that her heart had turned black and many at the time believed that to be cause of poison. Recent research would show that it was much more likely that she died of Cancer. Nevertheless, these rumors of poison would make it into the ears of her daughter, Mary Tudor, and arguably shape the woman she would become, bloody Mary.

"But I digress. Henry VIII married Anne Boleyn after she became pregnant, and crowned her Queen. On September 7th of 1533, the new Queen Anne gave birth to a girl, Elizabeth, and later Queen Elizabeth I. Despite what we now know about Elizabeth's long and successful reign, her birth had been a disappointment to her father who had not expected a girl. The Queen then suffered two miscarriages between 1534 and 1536, making the superstitious King believe that his marriage to Queen Anne was cursed like that with Katherine of Aragon. He started to make plans to get rid of her. This time there was no opposition to his plan. Katherine of Aragon was a princess twice over of Spain and beloved by the people of England, while Anne Boleyn was only a subject's daughter and hated by the people for Queen Katherine's fate. Anne Boleyn was arrested in April of 1536 on charges of adultery and incest with her brother, found guilty and executed. Please note that contemporary evidence has suggested and historians are in agreement that the charges were false and triumphed up by her enemy, Cromwell, a brilliant politician and the subject of a future lecture. The King had also declared his marriage to Anne Boleyn invalid, due to his relations with her sister, making their daughter a bastard.

"Now with both wives dead, the King became free to marry who he liked and he chose a woman named Jane Seymour. It can be said that Queen Jane was perhaps the lowest born of all of his wives and certainly the least educated. But it must have been appealing to the King at the time for she was so different from his past two wives. It would be Jane Seymour that would finally give birth to a Prince who would become the future King Edward VI. Her triumph was short lived as she died from an infection after childbirth shortly.

"Henry VIII's fourth wife was the sister of the Duke of Cleves. It was a marriage of politics set up for by Cromwell…"

The man's lecture was cut off as a sudden loud "Rah-Rah-ah-ah-ah-ah. Roma-roma-mamaa. Ga-ga-ooh-la-la. Want your bad romance," filled the air. The sound jolted the class and the students broke out in laughter at the sudden interruption, causing the petit blond girl sitting in the middle of the lecture hall to scramble frantically and embarrassedly for her cell phone in an effort to shut it off.

The Professor took the moment to look at the clock, "I see that I have already gone over the time for the class, so we will continue the topic next week. Have a good weekend everyone, and don't forget I will give extra-credit for those who attend the museum ceremony tonight. It will be a historical moment."

Noise quickly filled the classroom as the class arranged their backpacks and left the room in a hurry to start their weekends. In no time the only ones left in the room was the mid fifties professor and a young woman with dark hair. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, well dressed in a white blouse, black jacket and a pencil skirt, and a pair of black high heels. Her hair was dark, almost black, but her skin was rather pale, giving her a rather exotic appeal. The most enchanting part of her would be no doubt her eyes, a dark shade of blue that was like dark hooks for the soul, according to her mother.

She watched silently as the Professor packed up his things and as he finished, she approached him with a smile, "Did you like the lecture?" he asked her.

She shook her head, "I have already heard the story a billion times already, Dad. It used to be my bed time story, don't you remember?"

"Ah yes, that particular history period was always a fascination to me," her father responded. It was no surprise seeing he was a history professor at Oxford who specialized in the Tudor Dynasty. "Is it because of the ending again? You never liked the ending that his wives got."

She shrugged, "I don't particularly care for Jane Seymour."

Her father laughed, "Of course, your unexplainable dislike for his third wife. How could I forget? You know she was just a woman of circumstance as well." They began to walk out of the room, "How is work? Did that video conference go well?"

She nodded her head, "Work has been great. There are rumors around the office that I'm in line to be promoted to manager. It's a great opportunity especially for someone of my age."

The Professor nodded, they got into her little black car, "Do you have your dress ready for tonight?"

She nodded as she turned the keys in the ignition, "Yes, I got your suit from the dry cleaners as well. They're in the back. I thought we would pick up mum first and go to the little bakery she likes for dinner before we head over to the museum."

Her father smiled, "Alright, but we must hurry, I don't wish to be late and it is a bit of a drive. John's going to become famous after tonight."

She laughed, "Is she really that important?"

He laughed with her, "If I recall correctly, she was your favorite wife, and she is known as a hero for the protestant reformation today. Given that no real portrait of her has been discovered until now, I would safely say that this is definitely the event of the year."

"I don't think she was my favorite wife, after all, who is stupid enough to marry that man. It's…it's just that I always felt a connection to her," she told her father as they drove out of campus, "Besides, there are speculations that other portraits have been her."

"Yes, but John has found concluding evidence that this is her, and others have agreed. The museum has even bought the piece for a hefty sum," he explained.

"Well, tonight should be an interesting night. We will all finally get to see what one of the most famous and influential women in history actually looked like."

May 19th, 2011, National Gallery, England

"Thomas," a man around the same age as the professor greeted the trio happily, "I am so please that you could make it."

Thomas, the Professor smiled widely as the two men embraced each other, "I wouldn't miss this for the world, Edward. John has been so secretive about this painting, even an old friend such as myself have not seen it."

Edward laughed, "Yes, I must admit that I have not seen it either, but we wouldn't want to ruin the surprise though would we?" he turned to the elder woman beside Thomas, "Elizabeth, you look beautiful as always."

Elizabeth smiled, "Thank you, Edward," she pushed her daughter forward slightly; "You haven't seen Anne in a couple of years. She has only recently returned for a few days. She has been working over the pond recently, on Wall street."

Edward turned to the younger woman with a smile, "Annie Stafford? Is that really you? My you have gotten so tall, I still think of you as that little girl who insisted on climbing the trees in my back yard."

Anne smiled, "Uncle Edward," she said warmly as the two embraced.

It was at this moment that the lights in the room dimmed and one focus light lit in front of a closed red curtain, a man standing in the spotlight with a giant grin, he tapped the microphone in his hands twice with his index finger, and after hearing a satisfying amplified noise, he began, "Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the National Gallery. For those who do not know, my name is John Stewart," he paused briefly, "Today we are gathered here to celebrate an exciting moment in history, to reveal finally the face that changed a kingdom. Queen Anne Boleyn was the second wife of Henry VIII, and the mother of Queen Elizabeth I. She was the woman that was the cause for the creation of the Church of England. We knew very little of her looks other than a few notes here and there. Many paintings in the past have been speculated to be her, but today, there is no more speculation. Today, the portrait that I am about to reveal to you, is the real her, found in a hidden collection that escaped the King's rage after her death. So without further ado, I gave you, the Queen Anne." He stepped to the side as the curtains fell aside and a painting about 4 feet tall and 2 and ½ feet wide was shown with a spot light.

It was of a woman dressed certainly like a Queen, a thick and finely made dark blue gown. A large sapphire necklace rested gently on her slender neck and pale shoulders. She had a grand head dress that resembled a crown upon her head. Her hair looked soft. It was long and almost black. Her eyes…she had beautiful eyes, a shade of dark blue that had a certain intensity to them. It was a stunning portrait and the Queen had been a beauty, perhaps not a conventional beauty of her days, but certainly a stunner now. Anne couldn't take her eyes away from it; she could not believe her eyes.

I beg your Majesty to sit still, the portrait is almost finished. I dare say the King shall be very pleased with the piece.

A male voice had said those words, almost like an echo in her ears or was it her mind?

Three gasp from around her jotted her out of thoughts, "She looks…she looks…" it was her mother, she never finished her sentence.

"Identical, Dear God," that was her father.

'Uncle' Edward just moved his head between Anne and the portrait, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, unable to say a word.

It didn't take long before the rest of people around her started to notice her, turning to look at her with their eyes wide open. Some pointing and loud whispers broke out quickly as every single pair of eyes found its way to Anne Stafford.

Anne felt slightly paralyzed before the panic started to set in. She didn't really understand why she felt panic; suddenly the room became unbearably hot, and finally fear settled in. She didn't even know why she felt afraid suddenly, all she knew was that she had to get out of the room. So she picked up her blue silk skirt and ran, not pausing for a glance back, ignoring her parents' call for her. She felt like she was running for her life, but there was no swordsman chasing her. In fact why would a swordsman chase her at all?

The next few moments felt rather like a trance to Anne. She remembered making it to her car, and got inside. She remembered finding her keys and putting them in the ignition before she sped away. She passed several streets with no thoughts what so ever, and suddenly the streets disappeared from her view, a crowd of strangely dressed people filled her vision.

She heard her own voice in her mind this time.

Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul.

Her heart was racing, she meant for the brakes but she stepped on the gas. The next things she knew the car had jerked forward and then backwards harshly. Her head hit something, and she heard glass break before the world went black.

The next conscious moment Anne had was a feeling of immense pain. She was laying on her back now. There were lights all around her, a blur almost. "Her BP's dropping rapidly. She might have internal bleeding. Is the line patent?" It was a male voice.

"Yes, 1L IV Bolus, I'm squeezing the bag as much as I can right now," this was a female voice.

Anne felt rather cold, and the voices around her began to sound more like a dull noise. The last thing she thought she heard was, "Shit, she's crashing, get me the paddles."

Then there was a jolt and the world became black again.

May 19th, 1528, Hever Castle, England

She felt exhausted. Her entire body ached; every little movement brought immense discomfort. She couldn't see anything still because she had her eyes closed, but she had certainly left the world of the unconscious.

She moved around slight, trying to get a better gauge of where she was. She knew that she was lying down on a rather hard surface, perhaps a hospital bed?

"My Lady? You are awake!" a young female voice rang out above her.

Anne felt rather puzzled. This must be a nurse or a doctor, but what a strange name she used. My Lady? Was this hospital built in the fifteen hundreds? Slowly, she opened her eyes and moaned as the bright light rushed into her eyes. When her eyes finally adjusted to the light level and refocused, she blinked several times taking in her surroundings.

She was in an old fashioned chamber of sorts, something you'd see on TV or at the movies that were set in ancient times. There was a woman beside her bed dressed nothing like a nurse or doctor that Anne has ever seen. The young woman smiled at her, "Let me help you sit up, my lady."

There it was again. 'My Lady'…the term rather matched the chamber she was in. The woman helped to prop her up, fluffing the pillows placed behind her. Then before Anne could stop her, she rushed out of the chamber yelling, "Sir, come and see her."

Then it was a man's voice from outside, "Father, come quickly," she heard footsteps quickly approaching.

A young man dressing just as oddly but distinctly richer than the woman before came in and propped himself on her bed in front of her. He had a huge grin on his face.

Anne felt herself smile back weakly in response. She had no idea who this man was, but for some reason she felt a sort of familiarity about him. Then there were more hurried footsteps as another man, this time older with a head full of grey hair rushed in. He quickly knelt beside her bed, grabbed her hand and kissed it repeatedly before stroking her hair gently. He looked at her excitedly, "You know what you have done child?" His grin was large, "You've risen from the dead," there were happy chuckles, "Now you can see the King again!" He stroked her face gently, "It can be just like before."

Anne only blinked back. King? Everyone in England knew that the Monarch is Queen Elizabeth II. There was currently no King. Was this man crazy? Or perhaps maybe she was crazy and this was an asylum.

She coughed a little, "Who are you?" She thought about asking the man in a kinder manner in case she knew him but somehow forgot, but she was just too tired to beat around the bush.

The old man's happy smile melted off his face at her statement, "Anne?" his voice now coated in concern.

She nodded, "Yes that is my name, but who are you?" she asked again, then she focused on the younger man whose lopsided grin had also faded, "I don't know who you are either."

Author's Notes:

A big change at the end of this chapter than what I had previously. This time Anne wakes up after she survives the sweats instead of injuring her head from before.

Cruelangel