A/N: Hello, readers! This is my debut story on this site (I've written on Fanfiction before), so constructive criticism would be appreciated.

I am a Tudor history freak and have always wondered if little Mary Seymour survived. Here is my spin on history:

Who am I? That is simple. I am the Lady Mary Seymour. Who is Mary Seymour? That is the real question. Mary Seymour is an orphan. My mother, Queen dowager Katherine Parr, was the last wife of Henry VIII before he died.

Then she married my father, the Lord High Admiral Thomas Seymour. The two lived together at Chelsea Manor when they received news that my lady mother was pregnant with me.

After I was born in 1548, Queen Katherine died. I always blamed myself for that- it was giving birth to me that killed my mother. I killed my mother.

After her death, my father lived with me for a few months. Then he took the action that cost his life.

He tried to kill the boy-king Edward VI. That act is worthy of death, and my father was beheaded before I was even a year old.

I've never known what to think of my father. Of course, he was accused of treason, but I have heard tales of Anne Boleyn, King Henry's second wife. She was said to be a wicked adulteress and witch, but more rumors claim that the king merely wanted to get rid of Anne.

So, if Anne was innocent, then couldn't my father have been? There is just as good of a chance that he did try to kill King Edward. But I don't like to think so.

After my father's execution, I was taken into the household of Katherine Willoughby, dowager Duchess of Suffolk. Katherine always treated me like I was her own, and she was a mother to me.

In 1550, I fell sick, and somehow word got out that I had died. After that, the word forgot about me. I was just another baby that died in infancy, of which there were plenty. I was no longer anything significant.

In the Duchess' household, though, I was still alive, and that was all that mattered to me. I was given virtually anything, (hoods, silk, lace) but I never asked too much of Katherine.

Three years later, in 1553, King Edward died. This was not a good sign for the Duchess or I, for we were both Protestants (like my parents) and the new queen, Mary, was a devout Catholic and ready to rid England of any people that would not adhere to her faith.

Obviously, we were no longer safe, and the Duchess decided we had to flee the kingdom.

Unfortunately, it would not have been safe for both of us to go to the same place. While my benefactress left for the Continent, I departed for Wexford, Ireland. And this is where my story starts.

Signed,

Lady Mary Seymour

Anno Domini 1560