The Third Tudor Princess

Haunted

May 17, 1536

There was almost no hope left. Anne Boleyn, once the King's beloved and greatest lady in the land, sat as a prisoner in the Tower of London. By either cruel fate or maliciousness on the part of her husband's councilors, she was housed in apartments that bore a striking similarity to those which she had occupied before her coronation, just three years prior. Oh, how fickle Henry's heart was. She should have known. During her time at Court, she had seen many a hopeful woman rise in the King's favor, gaining her family titles, posts, and lands on her way up, only to be left discarded and heartbroken when His "Ever Gracious" Majesty got bored of them. She had even seen her own sister, Mary, heartbroken after losing the King's love, fearful for her prospects after she had been linked amorously to two kings. And Mary was one of the lucky ones. She had been set up with a comfortable husband of good standing when her time with the King was over, and after he died, found a man who she truly loved and who loved her back. 

Yes, Anne mused, Mary truly was the luckiest of the Boleyn siblings. Though her family, including her beloved sister, had shunned her for marrying a common soldier, she had borne her punishment with dignity. She left for the country with the man she loved, and, last Anne heard, had two beautiful children to show for it. God, Anne missed her sister. She wondered if news of her arrest and conviction had even reached Mary yet, or if she would only find out once her body was cold. Their brother was already dead, killed on the scaffold to a cacophony of jeers and taunts, calling him a traitor and a sinner. Anne had sat there, by her cell window, and watched as they struck the head from the body of her brother, one of the only people, even within her family, who had stuck by her while the King lost interest in her, and cursed her decision to cast off her sister, only for the crime of giving the King of England a common soldier for a brother in law.

God, what she'd done for that man. Banished her elder sister and truest confidant. Wept when her daughter was born, instead of rejoicing that the Lord had seen fit to bless her with such a wonder for a child. Her daughter, her precious Elizabeth, was the light of her life, and was blessed with greater intellect and more talents than half the princes in Europe's royal cradles. And, if even for a moment, Anne had regretted her birth. All because her husband wanted a son, thought a son was the key to carrying on a dynasty. Now, sitting in this cell, she could think of almost nothing but her daughter's fate.

Henry certainly had no care for his children once their mothers had displeased him, Anne thought, the memory of his treatment of Katherine's daughter coming to mind. Why had she thought she would be different? This man was so consumed with keeping power within his family, he was willing to cast off his devoted wife of over twenty years, and the daughter whom he had doted on and dubbed his unofficial heir. Despite her differences with Katherine, Anne had to admit that she was just as royal as any princess in Europe, and, if she was being honest, significantly more royal than Henry himself. He had courted the rage of the Emperor by housing his Aunt shabbily and forcing his cousin to wait on her infant half-sister. Why would Elizabeth, whom Henry believed to be the bastard daughter of a whore who had betrayed him, fare any better? Especially with that Seymour wench favoring the Lady Mary. Elizabeth would be lucky if she was given new clothes once her old ones grew too small. 

And the country certainly wouldn't be sad to see it. Despite the fact that Elizabeth was a bright, amazing child, one who could do great things if given the chance, daughter of the King they still loved, the people would rejoice at her misfortune. And why? Because Elizabeth was her blood as much as the King's. She was the daughter of Anne Boleyn, the scandal of Christendom, the woman who had seduced the King away from the true church and his true marriage, and then betrayed him in turn, and would die a traitor's death for adultery.