it was the year 1533. I, king Henry VIII, was attending 'Château Vert' at York Place. I am 42 and married to Anne Boleyn and we have a daughter Elizabeth Tudor, But I still need a son

I was sat at my throne. Anne beside me annoying me, I am thoroughly sick of her. I loathe her. I have spent tonight staring at the beautiful and young Elizabeth Windsor, a virtuous and stunning lady-in-waiting in my court

We make eye contact and I smirk, rubbing my facial hair as I wink at the angel