Author's Note: I want to thank all of you following my story and for the reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy The Wings of a Crow.

Chapter Two:

Anne had barely slept two hours, her mind kept racing going over every detail that had brought her to this moment. She couldn't stop thinking about the night before her first wedding to Henry. How scared she'd been, but in the most exciting way. But this was different. She wouldn't be marrying the man she loved. She would be becoming King of England. Finally, as the sun rose she had reached a state of resigned numbness.

When her ladies came to dress her they exchanged a glance of pity for their mistress. They did everything they could to hide exhaustion so clearly written all over Anne. As they added the finishing touches Anne looked at herself in the mirror, they had done well, her beauty shown brighter than her wanness. She had chosen to make her wedding gown yellow for hope with blue and gold accents. She wore her hair loose as was her right as a bride but included intricate braiding, crowning her head. Around her neck, she wore a simple golden cross. In all the chaos, her signature "B" for Boleyn pearl necklace had been lost or more likely stolen.

When she had finished dressing she stood and looked out her window. It was raining and Anne wondered whether God was crying for her situation or simply mocking her sadness.

A knock on the door made all three women jump. Anne walked forward slightly before withdrawing. She suddenly had a terrible feeling that she was about to be marched to the execution block rather than the church. The door opened revealing Charles Brandon. Anne suddenly wondered why he was there. Wasn't Henry meant to be giving her away?

"Your grace," Anne and her ladies bowed to him.

"My lady," Charles Brandon acknowledged. "I am here to take you to the church where his majesty, your ever loving brother-in-law will escort you down the aisle."

Anne turned from him snorting slightly. She felt three sets of eyes watching her but she didn't turn. She suddenly felt as though she was about to faint. She inhaled closing her eyes.

"My lord and savior, I beg of you to carry me through this day. As I know without your eternal love, I will certainly collapse." Anne prayed silently.

"My Lady, we must make haste," The slight irritation in Brandon's voice was evident.

"Yes, of course," Anne turned to him expecting a gloating face but instead she was met with a sympathetic one. Taken aback she took his outstretched hand without comment and let him lead her from the room.

The walk from her tiny room to the church was the longest she had yet known. With each step, she felt herself grow feverish. The room around her began to fade in and out, the only sound was her heart thumping. Fear seized her mind and her body shook uncontrollably. Before she could collapse, strong arms held her before she could hit the ground.

"Why has God forsaken me?" Anne whispered to herself.

Charles didn't know what to say to the women he had spent so much time hating. Charles wasn't particularly religious but at this moment he wished he could offer her words of comfort. She suddenly looked so very young and small, not at all like the infamous Anne Boleyn.

"Perhaps God is offering a second chance at happiness," Anne looked up at him before laughing sardonically. Brandon chuckled with her though he knew not why. Anne held herself up and smoothed her dress.

"Thank you, Brandon, I needed a laugh." Anne felt a spark of her old self and knew it would carry her through the day. She was daring, intelligent and unbreakable. England would never see Anne Boleyn as anything but the most happy.