AN: I do not own this – Phillippa Gregory does. I'm just having fun inventing stuff to do with her universe – including an evil Mary Boleyn. R and R!
Mary's Revenge
18 May 1536. That was the day I finally succeeded. It had taken two years. Two whole years. But now I stood before my sister once again, this time in the Tower of London. Anne looked drawn and haggard – not at all the radiant Queen who had banished me without a second thought, just because I had managed to marry the man I loved and she had not.
Anne came to me, and held out her arms. I slipped mine around her waist, playing the devoted, grieving sister one last time.
"Mary. Please. Promise me you'll look after Elizabeth. My Elizabeth. My best girl Bessie." Anne begged, her voice cracking as she thought of her little daughter, so young, sweet and innocent. I nodded. "I promise, Anne. I swear on the Bible. The English Bible."
Anne closed her eyes in relief. "And will you tell her I loved her? That I went to Hell and back for her sake?"
My head went up at that. It was time to burst Anne's bubble. I reached out and cupped my sister's chin in my hand, forcing her to look me in the eye, so that I could watch her heart break, as she had once watched mine.
"No Anne. I shall not. I shall tell her nothing of you, save that you are dead and that she is to call me Mother."
Anne crumpled.
"My daughter! Mary, please!" She choked on her own sobs, as she knelt, clutching at my dress, silently imploring me to reconsider. I glowered down at her raven black tresses.
"You took my son. Now I take your daughter. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. A child for a child."
Anne broke down completely. She sank into a frenzied heap, sobbing and wailing as though she were possessed. I kissed her coolly.
"Farewell, Anna-Maria."
With that, I swept from the chamber and did not look back. It had taken two years – I dared not taint my triumph now
Two years. But then revenge is a dish best served cold.