Anne Bowesley has been Prince of London ever since the disappearance of Mithras during the Second World War, but the history of her influence over the city stretches back long before that. During her mortal life she and her husband were among the conspirators responsible for deposing King James II in the Glorious Revolution of 1688, an achievement that would be a high point for most mortal and even many undead lives; for Anne it was only a prelude. Recruited to Clan Ventrue by Mithras’s lieutenant, the Seneschal Valerius, she learned much from watching her sire navigate the treacherous waters of Kindred politics. When Valerius took on the title of Prince himself after Mithras’ disappearance, it seemed only a matter of time until Anne would take on the mantle herself. As, indeed, it was — but not in the manner which many expected.

The abrupt return of the old Prince in 1885, and his immediate repudiation of Valerius’ more liberal policies, provided Anne with an opportunity. She gladly seized it, betraying her sire and becoming Mithras’ protege instead; first succeeding Valerius as Seneschal and then, when German bombs devastated the area of London where the Prince’s haven lay, taking the title of acting Prince in Mithras’ stead. The ‘acting’ part of the title is still technically in effect — she’s seen how presuming the Lord of Light’s destruction without being certain worked out for her sire, after all, and her rule over London is done with a careful eye toward being able to justify herself in the event that Mithras does return — but over the decades most of London’s Kindred have come to think of her as merely the Prince.

And even more than that. Rather than merely Prince, Anne now styles herself Queen, and referring to her by any title other than her own self-granted one is best done where one is certain that neither she or her agents will hear of it. There are of course problems to be dealt with — the Anarchs are an annoying thorn in her side that she seems unable to be permanently rid of, the Sabbat continue to threaten, and several of the Independent Clans have developed a dismayingly strong presence in her city — but none of them seem insurmountable. Absent the sudden return of her predecessor, her hold on London seems as secure as does that of any other Prince of a great city, and more than most.

Anne appears to be a grey-haired woman in her early fifties, rather short and delicate-looking, who has the sort of easy, relaxed grace that comes from hundreds of years of unlife with little or nothing to fear. Her self-presentation is that of a wealthy, elegant, but rather stern matriarch, and most other Kindred pray — whether they admit it or not — that they never have the misfortune to see the other side of her. For, while she rarely lets it show unless it’s to her own benefit, Queen Anne does have a vicious temper that’s at least the equal of Mithras’.

Her control over the city’s Ventrue is firm and relatively even-handed; her closest allies are the Toreador, and they have benefited greatly from their association, granted some of the most desirable territories in the city to oversee in her name. The Nosferatu are owed a number of substantial boons by her, giving them a vested interest in seeing that she remains in existence long enough to repay them; and even the Brujah grudgingly admit that her rule is probably preferable to any of the realistic alternatives. She hasn’t been bold enough to court the wrath of the Tremere by expelling them from the city, but she has followed in Mithras’ footsteps by making their unlives difficult, all the while protesting her own dismay at having to adhere to the old Prince’s ideals.

In similar vein, she and her lieutenants particularly stress the Traditions of the Progeny, Accounting, and Destruction. Siring without permission, or taking the unlife of a Camarilla Kindred, customarily result in a Blood Hunt for the offender, and are accordingly rare in London. On the other hand, minor violations of the Masquerade, or of another vampire’s domain, are often tolerated, at least until it’s convenient for Anne to remember them …