June 17, 1524

I married Catherine of Aragon after my brother, Arthur, had died. Their marriage was for an alliance with Spain against France. After Arthur died, Pope Julius II granted a papal dispensation for Ferdinand and Isabella that allowed me to marry Catherine, their daughter. We married in 1509. It has been seventeen years, and she has not born me an heir. I only have Mary.

Mary is the only child that has lived. She is fiery in spirit and is my pride and joy, but I cannot put her on the throne. She doesn't have the skills to rule, and besides, she is a child. Not only that, but she is a female. I need an heir, and if Catherine cannot give me that, someone else must.

March 24, 1529

Catherine flew into my study and fell to her knees by my chair. It had been late morning, and I was finishing some overdue letters.

"Would you really divorce me because I cannot give you a son!" She was flustered and her hands were shaking on the arm of my chair. I paused my writing and set down my pen.

"Catherine, you know I love you, but out marriage is cursed! The Book of Leviticus states that, '...if a man shall take his brother's wife...they shall be childless.'"

"It is not my fault that I cannot give you a child!" She exclaimed.

"One would argue that it is!" I almost exploded, but managed to keep myself under control.

She grabbed my hand and pressed it to her lips. "Please. What have I done wrong?" She sounded as if she was asking God instead of me. I answered anyway.

"It is what you haven't done, Catherine." I tried to tell her gently, "You haven't born me a son."

"Oh, Lord," and she began to pray under her breath.

The door opened again and Cardinal Thomas Wolsey walked in. Wolsey is the Archbishop of York, Chancellor of the Realm, Papal Legate to England, and the one who will get me my divorce from Catherine. I stood, pulling my hand out of Catherine's.

"I have returned, my Lord." Wolsey bowed low to me then came forward. Next to me, Catherine stood.

"Yes, I see. Leave, Catherine."

"If this is about you losing interest in me then I stay!" She said furiously.

"Stay, then." There was no reason why she shouldn't have gone. She would have found out what was about to happen sooner or later.

"I have appealed to Pope Clement VII," Wolsey began, "and he does not comply with your marriage annulment."

"No!" I must admit that I lost my temper then. The desk shook as my fist slammed onto its surface.

"You are annoyed at that!" Catherine whispered, her thick Spanish accent making her almost incomprehensible. "You are trying to divorce me?"

"Yes, Catherine, I am!" It was almost a year ago that I realized: Catherine cannot give me a son. Our marriage is wrong under God's reign. So I sent Wolsey to get the divorce from her, but only after I knew there was someone who would bear me a child: Anne Boleyn. She is a dark haired beauty and one of the ladies in waiting to Catherine who has just come back from the French Court. I have heard rumors that she is a witch, but Anne is no such thing. Once the Pope of Rome had agreed to my divorce, I will marry her and make her my queen.

It was only a few months ago that I sent Wolsey to Rome to appeal to Pope Clement VII for an annulment to Catherine's and my marriage. I have waited with bated breath for his return, and have become closer to Anne in the process. I'm sure Catherine has noticed, for she has been more distant of late and I have not seen Anne with her as often.

"Why won't Clement VII agree to the annulment?" I demanded.

"My lord, Queen Catherine may not want to hear this," Wolsey said quietly, as if Catherine would not hear him if he spoke in a low voice.

"To Hell with her! Why?"

"It is because of Emperor Charles V," Wolsey continued smoothly, as if my outburst had not happened.

"My nephew?" Catherine asked, but she was ignored.

"He has Clement VII wrapped around his thumb. The Pope does not want to do anything that would go against Charles," Wolsey said apologetically.

"That is it! You cannot go against Charles, therefore you must be incompetent. You are now stripped of your position. I don't ever want you in my sight again!" I raged. Wolsey accepted his dismissal with grace. He bowed to me, then again at the door, and left.

"And you!" I turned had then turned on Catherine, "You will never set foot here again! Get out of here now!"

Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, but her mouth was set in rage.

"I once loved you, but now you are a monster, only chasing blindly after your heir. If you would stop and think about what exactly you are running after and what is being torn down in the process, you would see the foolishness of your acts!" With that, she turned on her heel and stormed from my study. I seethed. How dare she speak so boldly to me? Her words settled my resolve to divorce her. If Wolsey, my most trusted man, cannot get my annulment, then I must do it myself!

May 26, 1533

Several months ago, I appealed to Parliament for assistance. They passed the Act in Restraint of Appeals, which meant that Rome could no longer interfere with the affairs in England. Pope Clement VII tried to excommunicate me soon after, but of course he couldn't, because of the act. I also had Parliament declare me the supreme head of the Church in England, and the clergy men swore fealty to me, not the pope. However, two men went against my new position and power. Arch Bishop Fisher of Rochester, and Thomas More, who was Chancellor of England and a very influential writer. They were both beheaded for treason.

So with my new position, I appointed Thomas Cranmer as my new Archbishop of Canterbury, and he successfully helped to divorce me from Catherine not even a week ago. It was imperative that I divorced Catherine soon, for Anne was with child and I had already married her in secret several months ago.

Catherine's divorce case took place on May 10th of this year. She had refused to show and our marriage had been officially annulled on the twenty-third. Catherine is being sent away as I write this. She will be separated from Mary, whom she has had a bad influence on, and will have almost no correspondence with anyone.

After the divorce case, Anne came to me.

"Shall I be queen?" She said.

"Of course, my dear Nan. You shall be the finest queen in the history of England!" I exclaimed, and swept her into the air.

"Careful!" She laughed, "Or you shall hurt your precious boy!" She caressed her swollen stomach.

"Yes, my precious boy." My heir.

October 14, 1533

Several weeks ago, Anne bore me a baby. A baby girl.

She is miserable, and I should be feeling pity for her, but how can I when I have no heir! She has failed me just as Catherine did.

Soon after the baby, Elizabeth, was born, Thomas Cranmer called upon me in my chambers.

"Anne wails a great deal. She is horribly distraught at her failure," was what Cranmer began with.

"A fool would know that," I replied none too kindly.

"I advise you to see her. She needs reassurance," he said

"Reassurance for what?" I demanded.

"That you still have faith in her ability to produce an heir," Cranmer said.

I stepped forward and looked down at Cranmer. "Anne should know that I still have faith in her," but I went to see her anyway.

"Forgive me, my lord. I have failed you." Anne's face was wet with tears but she looked to me with hope.

"You have, and you are forgiven." I grasped her outstretched hand. "See that it does not happen again."

"Of course, my lord."

I still do have faith in Anne. She will give me a son, I am sure of that. Everything has been running smoothly, and don't see why this would not either.

May 18, 1536

Tomorrow, Anne shall die. She will be beheaded by the blade of a sword.

Anne could not give me a breathing son. After Elizabeth, she conceived once more, but this child, a boy, was born dead. She had miscarried. I appealed to Thomas Cranmer and he made me a case for Anne's death: she was guilty of plotting to kill me, and adultery with five men, who were all found guilty as well. I was impassive as she fell into hysterics during her trial, and she had to be dragged away.

I will marry again soon, though. My death day draws closer and I need a wife to give me a son. I will make Jane Seymour my next queen. She is a lovely lady of the court and has tickled my fancy long before now. I am certain she will give me a son to carry on my rule.

March 18, 1537

It is now Jane Seymour who walks the halls with her hand supporting her back. I won't allow her to miscarry as Anne did, but she still insists on performing some of her duties as queen.

I married Jane eleven days after Anne's execution. Jane is strong willed in mind, but submissive in spirit. She makes a wonderful queen.

"My Jane, give me the honor of a dance," I said to her one day.

"But there is no music, my lord," she replied.

"No, but music is not needed for dancing." I grabbed her hands and we took a turn around the room.

"Careful!" she exclaimed, her face red with merriment and her eyes sparkling, "or you will hurt you precious heir!" At that moment I vaguely recalled the fact that Anne has said the same thing to me only four years ago. I only hope that the results of the pregnancy is not the same.

October 22, 1537

Not long ago, I had the privilege to sweep both Jane and my son into my arms. My son! At long last, my most beloved wife gave me a son.

He has been named Edward and will grow into a fine king. He takes after me with his fiery red hair, and after Jane with his quieter temperament.

However, there is sadness to this joyous birth. Not ten days after Edward's birth, Jane met her death by septicemia.

When Cranmer gave me the news, I was crushed beyond reason. I had loved Jane with all my heart. She was by far the best of my wives. Now only her son remains.

Her spirit must live on in Edward.

May 24, 1540

Thomas Cromwell, the Earl of Essex, had somehow convinced me to marry Anne of Cleves. Anne is hardly anything to look at: nothing at all like Anne Boleyn. She is quiet and submissive. I don't believe that she will stay queen for very long.

Along side my fourth marriage, I am developing my church of England. Along with making the clergy swear fealty to me, I passed the Act of Dissolution, which allows me to tear down the monasteries, which are not needed. Also, I strongly stress that the Pope is not needed at all, and that he is not God's representative. I must admit, that most of my teachings are based on those of Martin Luther, a man I greatly despise.

I used to oppose Martin Luther, and even took part in writing a pamphlet titled: "The Assertion of the Seven Sacraments Against Martin Luther." I was rewarded greatly by the Pope, who was also an anti-Lutheran.

Somehow, Luther heard of the changes I was making in the church, and he greatly opposed me! He has said that "This king wants to be god. He found articles of faith, which even the Pope never did." As a result, I declared Lutherans heretics, and that was the end of that.

January 28, 1547

Catherine Howard was my fifth wife. Anne of Cleves was not enough for me, and I made our marriage invalid, and Cromwell was executed. I then married Catherine Howard, but she did not last long at all. In fact, she was arrested for adultery with younger men. Catherine was a beauty, my "rose," but she was interested in men younger and stronger than I was. I am old, to say the least.

That is why I married Kathrine Parr. She was gentle and is caring for me in my old age. I shall never conceive again so it must be Edward who succeeds me. Mary is back in my favor, thanks to Jane, who suggested that I reconcile with her. She is also in line for the throne, but only after Edward and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth has grown into a beautiful young woman with a fiery temper. A few years ago I said to her,

"How would you like to be queen someday, Elizabeth?"

"I would not like to, because I know that I shall," she said boldly. "It may be twenty years from now, or it may be tomorrow, but I was born royalty, and I was born a queen." Then she held her head high and left me standing where I was. I realized then that Anne lived on in Elizabeth. She had her mother's grace and resilience, and beauty. All the qualities that I admired and loved Anne for.

My death will come soon. I can barely walk now and prefer to stay in bed. Kathrine nurses me well, and I hope to die painlessly. But I know I shall die successful. I have an heir and I have righted the wrongs against God in my country.