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September 1475The water was cold surrounding her feet. Cold, and fish swam and tickled making her giggle. Her papa, a man so many others found imposing, sat on the bank, hugging his knees to keep from falling into the water. He grinned as she laughed. Once, as she lost her balance and fell arse first into the water, he laughed too. "Poppet, you should be careful, your dresses cost me a small fortune.""It is my dress that troubles you? I could catch a chill!""Then do not play in the water, sweet." He paused, licking his lips to wet them. Bess froze. That was always a sign he had something to say. The biting of his lip said he was holding back. For what? "Poppet come here, I need to tell you something.""Papa?" She approached cautiously."You remember I went to France?""Yes.""Well in my agreements, I promised your hand in marriage. To the dauphin of France."Her voice was shaky "have you met him? What if I do not like him? What if he is cruel? What if-""My sweet you shouldn't think on any such thing. I would not betroth you to a creature like that. You'll be as happy in your marriage as ever a queen could expect to be.""As happy as mother?"He nodded.***Spring 1487As happy in marriage as any queen could wish to be? Then was she a queen? Was she indeed the queen of England, or was this just some fanciful hell in which Satan posed as her husband?Henry, she knew, had nothing going for him. A stalwart Lancastrian and worse a traitor, the thorn in her fathers side and the murderer in name of her uncle. Now her husband.It thus far had been an uneventful but unpleasant marriage. He did not lay hand upon her for aught but duty, did not treat her with enmity but not with love.She sighed as she sat before the mirror; gazing her own reflection as her ladies brushed her hair, readying her for this night. She could not help but see her mother, her fathers arms wrapped around her. The image of a happy marriage. The image of a forbidden one.Of course her mother had explained as much. "You cannot have the same as me Lizzy. It cost your father dear, and almost cost him his life. You cannot hope for the same. You are a princess, you cannot marry for love."No. But her father had made her a promise. What if he could see them now? Romping with Lancastrians, in bed with Lancastrians.... a Lancastrian bride and a daughter of York. The thought made her wish to vomit. How disappointed would he be? With Uncle Dickon, with his sons, with his wife.... with her. Bess could not help but think it. Could do little to help the self blame.How could she love him now? Her Henry, as he wished she call him. How could she? When he did nothing to endear her? How could she when now her mother sat in a permanently banished confinement and her brother, worse, might lose his life? All for false accusation, all for pointless paranoia. How could she love him when she could not forgive him?Tears ran down her cheeks for the first time in years. For the first time since she fell in her nursery. "Papa, god papa, I wish you were here. You'd make this right." She began to sob, pulling away from her ladies. "You'd make this right."