In a dimly lit chamber draped in crimson velvet, Jane Seymour stands quietly beside a cradle, her hands folded at her waist, the faint cry of newborn Edward echoing in the background. Candlelight dances across her pale face, eyes filled with both awe and exhaustion. Outside, bells toll in celebration—but inside, the queen’s body weakens. A soft smile touches her lips. She has given England its heir… at the cost of her own life.
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