Review Replies:

The Wandmaker: Thank you, I'm loving little Cecily she's so sweet; we'll be seeing some of Isabel in this chapter!

Invitada: why do you hope she will end up with Henry? And it's great that you know another language! I wish I could speak French or Russian!

Guest: Thank you but I think you're a little confused, but England does not have the same laws as France with it only going through male heirs – it would first go through his children then to Henry and his children, then to Margaret and her children, then to Mary and her children. (Forgive me if I'm wrong but I do believe that is the case).

Big Allen: yes, Edmund does have battle armour and yes, it has a crown on it XD.

Imperial Dragon: yeah, she did go a bit far :(, I'm definitely looking forward to writing of Anne's relationship with the girls. Thank you, I have seen your reviews and thank you for being such an avid reader of my historical books, you have no idea how much it means to me.

Angie87: Thank you :), I'm really glad to hear you're enjoying the book and thank you for taking the time to review; well, welcome to next chapter and perhaps there will be another Anne story after I finish 'The Second Tudor King', 'Song of the Rivers' and/or 'Under The Third York Son, the latter of the two about a very brilliant TV show about the 'White Queen', there is also a book written by Philippa Gregory. And it's great that you're a French reader! I wish I could speak another language and am fascinated by the French monarchy. You'll be seeing some of them in 1525 ;)

The Second Tudor King

2nd September 1522

Whitehall Palace

Princess Isabel of England, the Heiress Presumptive to the throne of England, was by no means a stupid girl. Both she and her little sister were known to excel in their learning, though Cecily had little to learn at the age of 1 and ½, and she did notice the distance that seemed to grow between her parents.

She loved both her mama and papa dearly but it was her papa who spent the most time with her, her mama only saw them when necessary and when she visited with papa, therefore being summoned to her mama's chambers was more than a little strange to the young Princess.

Before the doors were opened to her the herald announced, "Princess Isabel Tudor of England and of France," and with that the young girl walked in, head held high.

Unlike Cecily who was even short at her young age, her height presumed to have been inherited from her maternal grandmother as both their parents were tall of height, Isabel was of the tallest girls of her age – even taller than her cousin Mary had one summer on her!

Therefore she held her head high, determined, as she walked into her mother's chambers unaware of what she would face within. When she strolled in there was nobody there, the herald, who had seemingly announced her to nobody, just shrugged at her and the young Princess sight, having got her hopes up that it was that her mama wanted to actually spend some time with her, before a shrill yell was heard from the inner chamber.

The herald tried to stop the young Princess from walking further in, but to no avail as she simply ordered him away and he was forced to oblige, no Ladies-In-Waiting were there so clearly something big was going on – they had all been dismissed.

Strolling up the door she pressed her ear to it, as she and Mary so often had when they had heard Uncle Henry and Aunt Catherine's yelling voices, and listened.

"You struck her, Margaret, you stuck her!" Her papa's normally calm voice was now loud and filled with evident fury, evidently directed at her mama. Princess Isabel was tempted to go in there, to help him calm down or to take her mama away from the wrath that she was so clearly at the end of – but before she could decide what course of action she was going to take, the yelling resumed.

It was her mama's voice this time, "she deserved it, she's your whore!"

Isabel let out a little gasp at her mother's words, Lady Byran had told her that it was a very naughty word. Why was her mama saying naughty words? What does it mean?

"She is not, Margaret! She refuses to be so don't try to paint her as if she were the devil! It is you who is filled with sin, not my Anne."

"'my Anne'?! So you love her then! You love that witch, I bet you'd rather be married to her right now!"

"You're right, I would. The only reason I'm still in this marriage that keeps on pulling me down is because I don't want to upset Isabel and Cecily, I don't want them to be hurt by it. I tried, Margaret! I tried to make it work but you were so focused on Russia that you didn't give a damn for the country you were Queen of. You don't give a damn about the girls either, you hardly ever see them but they adore you! She would love them, even little Charles Fitzroy, and children of her own far better than you ever could hope to!"

Princess Isabel pulled her ear from the door as she heard the yelling resume.

She had heard about the Lady Anne Boleyn, after all, who hadn't? But when she and Cecily – who could simply not stop talking about the 'pwetty, kiend' woman – had asked Lady Byran of whom she was she had said she was like Lady Katherine Grey, Charles' mother, a woman who he would soon not care for.

Only that didn't seem to be the case.

Her Governess had told her the stories of great love, read her to bed with stories of fair Princesses and brave Princes and she had longed since dreamed of a love story of her own; even if Lady Byran had told her that Princesses cannot and should not fall in love.

But if her papa felt true love for this woman, if he felt she could display maternal affection that her mama had never given to her, then perhaps, just perhaps she could like this woman; they could be friends at least.

With a smile filled with hope and of curiosity the Princess of but four years headed down the palace in search of this mysterious woman that they called Lady Anne Boleyn.

ET-ET-ET-ET

Dear Brother,

I know you are currently stationed in France therefore I have wrote to warn you of England and Spain's planned invasion. I cannot let my country be given to the tyrants; you must speak of this letter to nobody for I am at odds with my husband and, without the girls onside, I fear he shall try for a divorce.

Your Loving Sister,

Queen Margaret Tudor of England and of France, Lady of Ireland.

"Take this," Queen Margaret commanded of the latest addition to her Ladies-In-Waiting, yet to even know the girls name, "and make sure it gets off safely with no other possessing it than the deliverer."

The Lady-In-Waiting curtseyed low to the Queen before heading out of the doors, only she did not head to the messengers in the stables but to the King's own chambers; for she was the returned Lady Elizabeth Boleyn nee Howard, whom had once served Queen Consort Elizabeth of York and mother to Mary, George and Anne Boleyn.

Nay, that letter was not heading to Russia but instead into the hands of the King of England, whose rage was to be known by all that night – the Tudor temper he had done so well to stifle being opened and released as if it had been waiting, brewing since the time of the Pharaohs of Egypt.

Little did Queen Margaret know that today would be her undoing, today the crown would be even more certain to lay upon the woman she had once called in her native tongue a 'concubine'.

ET-ET-ET-ET

Princess Isabel was, to be perfectly honest, confused as to where on earth Lady Anne Boleyn would be. She had searched the hall to which Lady Byran had said the woman had been a frequent within, very sociable, though her Governess had been more than confused as to why the Princess was seeking her out she knew better than to question it.

After checking the hall she had asked a rather kind looking man – whom called himself George, her brother – as to where she was and he had directed her to the gardens and had offered to take the young girl to the gardens to make sure she did not get lost.

She had declined, determined to find her on her own and become more independent, she wanted people to see she was no longer a little girl! And now she very much regretted not taking that offer up.

Trying to stifle the tears of fear working their way down the little girl's creamy, slightly chubby with baby fat, face she walked and walked and called out.

But she ended up upon the floor, her salty tears disappearing into the luscious green grass upon that summer midday of her papa's birthday and simply cried.

She was alone, she was afraid and she was not sure as to whether or not she could find her way back to the castle.

"Is that Princess Isabel?" She could hear a voice inquire and she swiftly tried to stifle her sobs, wiping furiously at her eyes. She was a Princess of England, possibly the Heiress, and was determined that her subjects see her as a strong woman rather than the lost little girl she felt like.

She heard footsteps trailing towards her before a voice inquire, "are you lost, Your Highness?"

The small girl looked up to see a strangely beautiful woman. She was not alike to many of the women at court, her skin was a slightly more tanned shade, her hair darker than a raven's feathers and eyes like coals.

"No," Princess Isabel lied, trying to make herself seem stronger, older, but the woman seemed to see straight through her and let out a smirk.

"I used to do the same when I was younger, Your Highness," the woman stated, clearly remembering, and her tone knowing, "I wanted my parents to see that I was just as old as and as good as Mary and George. Make myself seem far more grown up. Sometimes, I have learnt, one merely needs a little help," and that was true. Anne had come to court thinking she would need know other but without the formidable, intelligent woman of whom had once been an Infanta of Spain she doubted she would have made it through these past months, not with all her sanity still in place at least.

Princess Isabel offered her a small smile, though she still believed that she could do things independently and that she was old enough and good enough but the woman was being kind and the young girl saw no reason to scare away the only lady who did not look at her as if she were beneath her, a mere child that they were required to bow to.

"Thanks you," Isabel stated, "Lady…"

"Lady Anne," Anne informed her, offering the young Princess one of her most charming smiles, she needed to win the affection of the young girl even if the young girl – admittedly or not – had already gained her's, "Anne Boleyn."

This time the Princess of England's smile was just as charming and endearing as the woman in front of hers, now determined to find out of whom this woman her papa seemed so in love with was, and if Isabel ever could truly like her; for if not she would soon begin her plans using the adorable tendencies she commonly used to her advantage to win them both open.

Little did either know that Anne was so close to winning the ear; though even as a person on the backbone of the King's unrelenting anger and her daughters slowly being win over by Anne, neither Margaret nor her Russian Prince brother seemed to want to relent their claim upon the throne.

They were all slowly preparing for one final battle.

What did you think? Who will win the war? How will Margaret try to prevent the divorce?

Reviews are most appreciated :)

Oh, and if you enjoyed Philippa Gregory's: 'The White Queen' then I have brought out two books that I will be writing based upon its TV show. 'Song of the Rivers' and 'Under The Third York Son'; though don't worry, this book is my 1st priority, then 'Song of the Rivers', then 'Under The Third York Son'!

I hope to see you all on my other books ;),

Have a great day/night,

-LadyHallows