Author's Note: Well, here it is. The final chapter to Queen Anne's Revenge. It's been a long wait, but I hope you are happy with what I've produced. This chapter makes mention of another fanfiction I wrote, titled My Darling Daughter. It's a letter I wrote from Anne's point of view, addressed to Elizabeth. I don't think you need to read it to understand this chapter but I would love it if you did regardless. :)

Those following The Game of Queens would like to know that an update is coming soon, hopefully within the next couple of weeks. I've had a bad spot of writer's block the last few months, but I slowly getting into gear again - now that real life things have started to calm down.

Finally, enjoy... I really hope you like this.

"She had such power over men's hearts. They died for her."
-Queen Elizabeth I
-Elizabeth

"They have found nothing to replace her."
-Sir Francis Walsingham
-Elizabeth

Anne's pride in Elizabeth had never once had cause to falter. Elizabeth, now formally recognised as Queen Elizabeth I of England, Ireland, and France, had all the best aspects of her father and her mother. She was the image of her mother, except in the colour of her eyes and her hair - which were those of her father. Her demeanor was sharp and her wit was well-practised. She was a gentle queen, much loved and she had made it her life's ambition to truly earn that love. Lands across the sea were being claimed in her honour and named Virginia after England's Virgin Queen and Anne's delight swelled with each passing year.

However, Elizabeth's abstinence of marriage unnerved Anne and she felt that the blame for the Queen's marital status fully belonged on her head. In the hours before her death, she penned a letter to her then infant daughter warning her not to love or trust unless such love or trust was rightfully earned. Had it been her mother's words that caused Elizabeth's reluctance to marry? Anne worried, like many of Elizabeth's advisors - much to the chagrin of their Queen, what would happen to England if Elizabeth remained unmarried and childless when such a time came that God called her home.

But the Queen, despite her refusal to seek out a companion to rule by her side, seemed to be a happy and carefree spirit, enjoying the same activities at Court that Anne and Henry had. While Anne would certainly have been appalled, she would not have been altogether surprised if she learned that Elizabeth had attempted to or succeeded in competing in a joust - so blithe was Elizabeth's persona. Elizabeth's ability for mirth magnified Anne's pride even more, making her wish that she had been more like her daughter during her life.

Elizabeth's hurricane allowed Anne's fire to remain lit.

Anne's fire, however, threatened to be extinguished when the English Navy faced the Spanish Armada. She was allowed to return to Earth once more to witness the battle, though the sight of the many ships before her was frightening. The sound of canon fire enveloped her ears, only serving to multiply her fear more. How could Elizabeth and her forces, which were composed of some three thousand men, defeat the Spanish Armada, composed of ten thousand men and aided by the Duke of Parma who had fifteen thousand men lying in wait on the French coast? It seemed in every way impossible that England would succeed.

Many ships were lost, many lives claimed by the Spanish. Anne's paranoia was heightened when she realised just how close in proximity Elizabeth had come to the fighting. She had known, of course, that the Monarch traditionally went into battle with their troops, but Anne had hoped that an exception would be made for her daughter, even if it was her daughter who insisted on being present - though, she hated to admit, she had much difficulty trying to come up with a truly logical reason why Elizabeth should not be there.

In the face of all the adversity, it was wondrous to behold the sight of the Spanish ships burning and plunging into the sea. Magnificent was the thought and realisation that Elizabeth had won, that the Spanish Armada had been destroyed by her daughter's hands.

No amount of tears shed, nor words spoken could have possibly expressed Anne's pride in her daughter at that very moment.

Anne cried when they told her.

She would never be certain why. It could have been for sorrow and the pain of knowing her daughter lived no more; it could have been for joy and the knowledge that they would soon meet again. Anne was nervous, too. What if Elizabeth did not react positively to their reunion; what if she, like many in England, believed the charges brought against Anne and had grown up hating her mother?

Anne did not have much time to dwell on these fears, though.

She found herself manifesting in the Queen's bedchamber, appearing in a silver haze. The room, while not the same that she had inhabited, was beautiful and ornate. Elegant tapestries hung on the walls, and portraits of Elizabeth at varying ages were scattered throughout the room. The centre of the room boasted a beautiful wooden bed, surrounded by Ladies-in-Waiting and Elizabeth's priest and chamberlain.

"She looks so peaceful," one of the ladies cried, "like she's sleeping."

Anne peered around the mass of people, curiosity winning against her desire to abstain from glancing at her daughter's lifeless form. She was soothed to see that Elizabeth did indeed look peaceful. There were many lines etched into her face, showing that the Queen of England had died an old woman. Somehow the knowledge that she remained unmarried and without child did not bother Anne anymore. She assumed that it was because Elizabeth had surpassed all expectations; as a girl, it was not fully anticipated that she would rule England and it would certainly never have been dreamed that she would rule with no husband by her side. Elizabeth had brought about the Golden Age and Anne knew it would be said that she had been the best monarch England had known to date.

Suddenly, Elizabeth's body was enshrouded in millions of tiny gold orbs. The orbs rose up into the air and began to swirl in front of Anne, taking the shape of a human figure. Slowly, the orbs began to mold themselves together into an almost tangible visage of Elizabeth in her prime. She looked just as she had when Anne had been allowed to come to Earth to see her daughter and to guide her during the tough time she'd had when Mary was Queen.

Though she had seen this image of Elizabeth before, Anne took a sharp breath and smiled; Elizabeth was beautiful, almost ethereal.

Just as Elizabeth began to peer around the room - confused, the Priest spoke somberly to no one in particular, "Order the bells to be sounded. The Queen is dead."

A look of shock became plastered to Elizabeth's features and Anne responded by holding out her hands, offering, "Come, Elizabeth. We have much to discuss."

Elizabeth did not take her hands as Anne had hoped, but fell to the floor in a shallow curtsey instead, her angelic voice piercing Anne's soul, "Your Majesty."

"No," Anne declared resolutely, denying her much-loved title in favour of one she had yearned for so many years to hear. "Just Mama."

Anne's fears were beginning to dwindle; by her actions, Elizabeth seemed to harbour no resentment for her mother. Elizabeth, with a smile, finally took her mother's hands and together they disappeared in a swirl of gold and silver orbs. They reappeared in the gardens of Hampton Court, just mere steps away from the fountain they had played around when Elizabeth was a girl. A smile of Anne's own resurfaced when she saw the delight on her daughter's face. Without saying a word, they sat on the edge of the fountain and Elizabeth danced her fingers across the water's surface. It was a peaceful silence between them, both mother and daughter content to simply enjoy the other's company - a luxury robbed of them in life.

"I never believed it," Elizabeth said softly, as if she was afraid to broach the subject that lingered in both of their minds.

Anne glanced quickly at her daughter, shamefully admitting her worries, "I feared so much that you did."

"How could I? You were my mother, how could I imagine such wickedness in you?"

"I don't suppose you could," Anne smiled.

Elizabeth hesitated a moment before she continued, "I don't think he ever really got over you."

"Oh?" Anne's eyebrows perked up, intrigued.

"Once…Mistress Seymour...died," Elizabeth paused cautiously when she danced warily around Jane Seymour's name, as if she were afraid of offending her mother by mentioning the name of the woman who had brought about her downfall, "he did not marry again immediately, but he had many mistresses - all of them having aspects which favoured yours. Even in his succeeding marriages, he took women that had your characteristics - be they aesthetic or behavioral - to his bed. Rumour has it that those who were more like you lasted for quite some time, though never as long as you did."

Anne was not sure how she felt about this knowledge, but she tried not to dwell on it. Sensing her mother's mood change some, Elizabeth removed her hand from the water's surface and entwined it with Anne's.

"Why did you never marry?" Anne asked, genuinely curious and partially concerned.

"I was afraid to," Elizabeth conceded. "My father was married six times, and ordered the deaths of two of his wives. Both executions occurred during my lifetime and one of them was my mother. I did not trust marriage."

Anne squeezed Elizabeth's hand, hoping to return a sense of happiness to their conversation.

"I did love a man once and I was fond of a man many years after that, but both men belonged to other women. They were not mine to keep."

Elizabeth kept silent after that. Her demeanor was pensive, as if she were reflecting back on her life and thinking of how she had wished things would have gone. Anne smiled half-heartedly, reaching a hand up to push a loose strand of hair behind her daughter's ear.

"It does not do to dwell on the past," she said with a tut, "particularly after one has died. We have what matters now. We are together now."

"Yes, we are," Elizabeth agreed. "And the Lord knows how much I've missed you."

"Yes, and He also knows how much I missed you. He let me return to Earth and guide you often."

"There were many times that I thought I sensed your presence," Elizabeth admitted with a smile. "I always loved it; it was as if you were always with me and never truly gone."

"My darling daughter," Anne smiled widely, quoting the letter she had penned for Elizabeth just before her death, "I was always with you. You were never truly without me."

Both women smiled and resumed their comforting silence. They remained like that for what could have been hours, or an eternity - together agreeing in a piece of knowledge they had learned over the years. Life is always fickle and only one thing is really ever certain: no matter how greatly, or poorly, you have lived, you will die - as all humans must - and those who have been lost before will always be waiting on the other side.

THE END