Whoa! We made it to the end of the story! Thanks to everyone who's read and/or reviewed this – I might never have got it finished if it hadn't been for you, and as it started out as a present for a family member, that wouldn't have been good!

Without further ado, I give you the last ever chapter of "My Sister Princess Anne!"

13

Epilogue

The Hague

1553

We're here now. We've been here just over a year, and Anne has settled into her role as nominal Queen of the Netherlands. The real power here lies with Spain, as does much of the might in Europe.

However, if Edward is willing to send English forces to help, and George and Elizabeth send soldiers from Navarre and France as well, the chances are that William would be able to throw the Spanish out, and take proper control of his country.

Though she is William's wife, Anne knows very little of this, and none of it matters to her anyway. The people have taken her to their hearts – this lovely, vibrant, kind-hearted girl, and she loves them back unconditionally.

Her husband, Prince William adores her too, adores her kind heart, her impulsive nature, her child-like delight in any gift that she is given. He showers her with them, and she gladly accepts each and every one, thanking him in a voice that can barely keep from shaking with happiness, and he loves her for it.

Our child Queen trips gaily from pleasure to pleasure, but, sensual as any true Tudor has to be, (especially those born of that scheming, brazen harlot, Anna-Maria Jane Boleyn), she does her duty, night after night.

I believe it is paying off too, for I overheard her telling her cousin, Anne Stafford, that she may even be with child – already!

Please God she is. If Prince William really is going to risk a war with my kinsmen, the Spanish, we need an heir, and a strong, lusty one at that, to risk it all for. We need an heir to make all the expense, all the bloodshed, all the lives that would be jeopardised, that would be put in danger on a daily basis, worthwhile.

My own daughter Frances, meanwhile, is now a healthy, glowing two year old, who captivates her older sister Isabelle, and deservedly, but totally unashamedly, commandeers, covets, no, cultivates her sister's maternal instincts, causing dark Isabelle to embrace, spoil, and quietly encourage golden-haired, blue-eyed Frances with all the tenderness any sister could ever show – the way I would have done, had I but had a younger brother or sister.

I, on the other hand, am now a hard, mature, sensible (some might almost say bitter) woman of 35, and my story, the story of the Princess Anne, the woman I have served for almost half my life, have watched grow from an over-indulged, tyrannical, arrogant child into a conscientious, quick-witted, kind-hearted young woman, is drawing to a close.

I have precious few pages on which to inscribe more words, so perhaps it is time to sit back and let others do the writing.

Like my young Frances. One day, one day, she will have a long and accomplished life, I am sure.

But she could have had – should have had – so much more!

For though I am happy here in The Hague, happy as Edward Seymour's wife, happy as a mother to my five children, my childhood, my golden, luxurious, shining childhood, promised me so much more than life as a Viscountess.

I, Mary Isabella Seymour nee Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII and Catalina de Aragón, could have been, nay, ought to have been, Queen of England.

Not a day goes by when I don't curse the existence of those who cheated me out of my rightful inheritance, the inheritance my mother fought for for so many, many years. King Edward, Prince George, Princess Elizabeth and little Princess Anne.

Not to mention their mother. The woman who stole my father. The woman who changed the faith of England.
Anne Boleyn. God damn her soul.

God damn Anne Boleyn.

AN Hope you enjoyed! I know it might seem like a bit of an odd ending, but I thought I'd better show that Mary still hates Anne Boleyn, even if she has begun to understand her a little better in recent years. Now, the big question is – should I write a sequel or not? Even if I did, it wouldn't be until after the summer, but let me know what you think anyway.