Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has taken time to read and review this story; I really do appreciate it. The usual disclaimers apply, and I own none of this (especially not the song I have quoted. Copyright to that belongs to Noel Gallagher and his record company). Please read and review. Thank you!

Chapter Twenty-Six: Back At The Beginning (Epilogue).

Stop the clocks and turn the world around

Let your love lay me down

And when the night is over, there'll be no sound

Lock the box and leave it all behind

On the back seat of my mind

And when the night is over, where will I rise?

("Stop The Clocks" by Noel Gallagher and His High Flying Birds).

Arthur awoke with a start.

He heard the women's voices drifting in from the outer-chamber of the cell he was lodged in, and thought that he was still in a dream. Someone had opened his windows, letting the late afternoon sun shine bright through the windows. His senses jolted, and he did a double take of the windows. The was beginning to set. He had slept through the whole day; the day he thought would be his last.

The women continued to chatter quietly, but only disjointed words reached his brain. He looked towards the open doorway, but couldn't see anyone. He was meant to be dead. He swallowed, his throat dry and his limbs heavy. His gaze raked the room, and settled on the goblet on his bedside table, and he remembered it in Catherine's hands. He remembered her making him drink it.

Someone had placed a basin of fresh water at the side of the bed; his to wash himself in. Presently, however, he ignored it and disentangled himself from the bedclothes that had become twisted around his legs. His body ached as he stood up, and he wondered why Catherine had done that to him. For someone who dealt so honestly with others, he was left confused by her actions.

His moving about the chamber to get dressed must have alerted one of the women. "Arthur!" one called out. It sounded like Margaret, his sister. "Arthur are you awake?" It was Margaret.

To his surprise, Henry's voice answered her. "Give him five minutes, Sister!"

Then a third voice spoke. It was his other sister, Mary. "We must explain this gently..."

Then a fourth. "All has been done for the best; he'll realise that," said Queen Anne.

Arthur froze, stood like a statue half-way through pulling up his breeches, as his mind reeled. He must have had an audience for hours. As he listened, he waited for a fifth voice to sound; a heavily accented Spanish one. He wanted words with her, whatever was going on. But it did not come. He hastily dressed, and made his way outside. All of them turned to stare at him as he appeared. But, as he tried to catch Catherine's eye, she turned away. His heart sank.

"What's going on?" he asked, bewildered by the presence of his entire family in his cell's outer-chamber. "Why are you here? Private party?" The jest was a poor one, and elicited only a dark scowl from Margaret. Arthur sensed a lecture coming on.

Mary reached out a hand as Margaret rose to her feet, and whispered something he couldn't quite hear. Margaret, in reply, shot her a sharp look. "I said I'd be tactful, didn't I?" she assured her sister. Then, she turned back to Arthur. "It's all right, Brother. You've already been executed."

The others groaned. "Well, he had to be told straight, didn't he?" Margaret retorted hotly in response.

Arthur thought it was a joke. "Amusing, sister," he replied drily.

"No, really, you have. It was Henry's idea," explained Margaret with a nod towards the King who was sitting with Anne nestled in his lap in the far corner. She was visibly pregnant now, he noticed.

"Well, actually, it was Cromwell's and Anne's," Henry corrected her, peering out from behind Anne's shoulder. Anne beamed at him.

"What?" he gasped, feeling faint.

"Don't you see?" asked Mary, looking gently up at him. "That dreadful man was executed in your place. Everyone thinks you're dead, so no one will ever be able to exploit you like that again."

"Oh, come on, Arthur!" Henry sighed as he gently nudged Anne aside. "We just copied your original idea and modified it a little. The very man who threatened your life died in your place-"

Arthur finally gathered his wits and picked up his jaw from the floor. "Yes, but how?" he asked, stumbling back against the wall before he fell down. "How did you get a condemned man to die in my place? What about his execution? Who was it, exactly?"

Henry grinned. "It was that Edward Bocking," he explained. "He died under the name Arthur Tudor. However, officially, Edward Bocking was granted a pardon, and exiled to Ireland. So we don't have to worry about formally executing him."

"If his family come looking for him," Anne chipped in, "then we say he's been forbidden from contact with them. Or that we have never seen him before in our lives."

Arthur was still reeling from this revelation. "So, I am dead again," he said, more to himself than anyone else in the room. Slowly, his brain registered the fact that this was a good thing.

"We've got it all worked out, Arthur," said Henry. "You're to be given a new identity, just like before. Then you're to be employed by Catherine, when she settles in at her new home, in a new town. She will find a capacity for you; a Chamberlain or something. Something that will require you to live in the same house as her."

For the first time, Catherine looked at him. He grinned from ear to ear; relieved that they would still have a way of living together. "But what about the household staff?" he asked. "They'll know it's me."

"Some do know about this," said Margaret. "People we can trust, and they will be in your household. Beside them, get locals from your new town. They'll never know it's you."

"Once you're both settled at your new house," said Henry. "The act of attainder will be reversed by Parliament, and it will be declared that you're no traitor. There will be no dishonour attached to your name."

Arthur didn't know what to say. He desperately wished there was some other way for him to express his gratitude with something more than just words. His eyes misted over with tears as he looked at them and wondered how he could have left them all behind in the first place, all those years ago.

But, there was bound to be a catch. "I think you should remain here at the Tower for a few months," said Henry. "Just until everything settles down, and this business is forgotten. Then, while Catherine is in mourning for you, you will stay for a year with Margaret. That will be for the best, I think. You must do as I say, Arthur."

Henry gave him a stern look. "Yes, Your Grace," he replied, nodding. "I am yours to command, you know that."

Margaret laughed. "Oh I'll keep him in line, don't worry about that Harry!"

The matter was settled. Henry, Mary, Margaret and Anne all got up; they had business to attend to. Also, they realised Catherine and Arthur would need privacy. Once they were alone, and Henry gave the orders for Arthur's doors to be left unlocked, they decided to take a walk around the Great Hall.

"Why didn't you speak to me?" he asked, looking sidelong at her as they walked. "I wanted you to."

Catherine looked sorrowful. "When last I saw you," she explained. "You looked at me as if I was feeding you poison. You fell into a deep sleep in my arms; it felt like killing you."

He had to admit, he was rather upset that no one had told him any of this. The first time around, it had been his decision to go. This time, the decision was made and carried off without so much as a prior consultation. "I thought that you were," he relied. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Catherine stopped, looked at him straight in the eye. "Like you told us the last time?" she said. Touché, he thought. "Arthur, we had to save you, and make it as simple as we could." She nodded towards the chamber they had just emerged from. "Your mother died in there after giving birth to the child she had to replace you. So just you remember some of the sacrifices we have made for you. Not just today, but in the past."

She resumed pacing around the old Hall, but Arthur – feeling chastened – remained where she left him. "I'm sorry," he said to her retreating back.

Catherine paused, looking at him over her shoulder. "This time, you're leaving and staying with us at the same time. Make the most of it."

For once, Anne was almost grateful for her term of confinement; a welcome break from the tumult of the Court. The only drawback being her last good bye to Henry. There was always a sense of finality surrounding it; a feeling that it could be the last time they meet face-to-face. No woman liked to dwell on the dangers of child birth; that was an unacknowledged space at the back of every new mother's mind. However, it manifest itself in other ways. Through the tenderness of that final kiss before a man and his wife went their separate ways, or a lingering embrace.

Anne remained positive. "It will be all right," she promised him. "We're both strong and healthy." She was referring to both herself and the baby. The baby that had fighting inside her for weeks, now. It was why they brought the date of her entering confinement forwards.

Henry looked deep into her eyes, and kissed her one final time. "I'll pray for you," he assured her as they parted.

The women were inside already. The fire was lit, and the chambers aired and waiting. She smiled and waved to the Courtiers who'd come to witness the big event as Henry circled his arm around her waist. Together, they entered the darkened rooms. He wouldn't stay for long; male presences in the room made the air impure for the birth. This was an exclusively female world.

However, he was still reluctant to part from her. "This is it, then," he said, glancing around. It was warm, and the air thick with incense. "Remember, I love you and I love our baby."

Anne laughed, kissed his cheek. "Go," she said. "When I see you again, it will be with a Prince in my arms."

As one confinement began, another one ended. The rebellions ended, memories faded, and no one bothered to try it again. Arthur's attainder was quietly reversed, but he was still legally a dead man – there was nothing they could do about that. But it lifted the taint of treason from Owen, and allowed for his wardship to pass to the King. His future would be secured, and Arthur had even had proposals for a contract of marriage between Princess Elizabeth and Owen, just to neutralise any claim that he could have used against him. But that was for the future, and Arthur knew well that anything could happen.

Outside, Margaret was waiting for him. Catherine had just left, with Owen in her arms. Convention dictated that she still wear widows reeds; something that had generated several in jokes. He would see them both again soon. It was never going to be a normal family life from there on in. But it was definitely better than being dead.

She was standing in the sunlight on the door steps. Her red hair made orange in the sunlight, and her arms open to embrace him. He rushed over to her, and hugged her tight; breathing in lungfuls of clean air – or as clean as it got in London. Finally, he was walking out of the Tower through the front gates, so many months after being brought in through Traitors Gate. When they parted, they looked at one another for a long time.

"There's someone else here, too," said Margaret, tilting her head towards the closed carriage that would be taking them away to the countryside of Oxfordshire.

Arthur glanced over her shoulder, and could just see Henry and Mary waiting for them. He grinned. "Come on," he said, "let's go."

Henry rode with them as far as the outskirts of London; the Queen was due to deliver the baby at any moment and he couldn't be too far from her. But as he left them to the remainder of their journey, he turned one last time to Arthur.

"This time, make sure you stay in touch," he warned him.

The girls smiled, and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Would I dare not to?"

By the time they reached Oxford, Arthur knew that Catherine would be setting up at Ludlow. Her arrival would cause a big fuss among the locals, but as soon as she was fully settled, it would be safe for Arthur to join her without attracting any more attention. For him, that moment could not come quick enough; as much as he loved the company of his sisters. Ludlow was where it all began for him. He didn't realise it before, but it was where the long journey of he and Catherine really started, and now he was returning. It felt as though he had come full circle.

It was on a damp morning that the first messenger from the Palace for a long time finally arrived. He and Margaret were enjoying their breakfast in the Solar when the finely dressed man was presented to the Dowager Queen of Scotland. Arthur, however, ducked quickly into an ante chamber to listen in without being recognised.

"The King's Grace sends his kindest regards to you, his sister," the man declared formally, "and is proud to inform you of the birth of his son, Prince Henry. Delivered by the Queen three days passed at the Palace of Greenwich at three o'clock in the afternoon."

Hidden in the closet, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. The whole of England sighed with relief.

Author's second note: Thank you again to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, and thank you to Birdman45 for the plot bunny that started it all. It's been greatly appreciated. Also, I can only apologise if it seemed like I was ignoring the advice of readers to match up Elizabeth and Owen much sooner than I did. But the ending was one I had in mind right from the start, and matching up those two to make Arthur's trouble melt away would have taken that plot twist away. Also, apologies for re-uploading the chapter, but I got the name of Anne and Henry's son incorrect. It's Prince Henry, not Arthur. Thanks again!