It's dark. King Henry, already 55 years old and married to Catherine Parr, walks through the dark corridors, thinking about his son, Edward, when he hears your gentle voice. But how can that be possible? You died after Edward's birth, and you are Henry's love of his life. He looks into the light and sees your ghost.

You: How is my son?

Henry: Jane...

He turns to you

Henry: He's well, I have taken all my care of him.

He pauses

Henry: Sweet Jane, and so he will be king.

You: My poor boy... my poor child...

Henry: No, he's the most beloved...

Suddenly, little Edward is standing next to your ghost. You place a hand on his shoulder.

Henry: He's my special boy...

You: He will die young.

Henry: No, no!

You: poor child you expected too much of him..he was only a boy kings to be made of clay and god forbid you locked him up like your father did with you...

henry bursts into tears

Henry: no no no!