January 1525

Mary had been six when her father had died. She would never forget being awoken and led by her Lady Governess to the dark, musty room in the corner of the Chateau.
Lady Mother, sat quietly behind father's lifeless body. The Chaplin standing beside mother, quietly whispering a prayer - his pudgy hand on the widow's shoulder.
Mary, although was born in France, spoke French and wore pretty French gowns, - her father was English, a English noblemean of great wealth, but could only boast two sickly sons, John and William, the Earl of Calsley was always unsure of the future, due to the next of his surviving sons, only was a girl healthy girl.

Mary.

"The Watergraves must have more sons!" Lord Henry wailed in the gardens for hours, when Lady Mother gave birth to her sixth and final child, a daughter - Anne, in 1523. Mary was three and always remembered that moment as she looked over the cradle of her pink-cheeked, little sister. She secretly thanked God that Anne was a girl, a sister - her equal.

"Come child" Lady Mother whispered in the dark, handing out her pale, hand, which was always glittering with ruby and diamond rings.
Mary was numb, letting go of her governess's hand, she stepped forward.
Lady Mother was French and a member of the grand house - House de la Mothe. Mary herself was a grandchild to the Duc de Églantine, a cousin to the French King.
"Before I tell the other children. I wish to speak to you alone. We are to go back to England, your father commanded it last night before he went to God"
Mary's chest tightened as her mother crumbled into tears. The family had lived in France for years, it's all Mary had known, ever since father followed The Princess Mary's train for her marriage to King Louis.
"But Lady Mother? We live in France - I have never been to England" her voice was small, filled with a hint of fear.
The now Dowager Countess pulled her daughter closer, wrapping her shawl around them in a silk cocoon.
"We are to claim your brother, John's, inheritance against your uncle, Sir William. Your father is not yet cold, and your uncle has tried to lay claim what is rightfully your brother's"
John was in Paris, a companion of the Dauphin and learning the ways of a knight. He was on his way home after news of father's death was announced at court.
Sir William Watergraves, rumour was, that he was already, knowing his older brother was dying, made a claim to the English King. It was Lady Mother's time to answer the unjust treatment.
Father was the eldest son of two boys - Uncle William would be left with nothing, unless he could challenge the law, claiming WE are illegitimate children, not his older brother's true offspring, overruling his nephews and nieces.
It was no secret that Lady Mother was another man's mistress during the early years of her marriage to father. No one knows who or how long the affair lasted, but Mary knew deeply within her soul, - She was a Watergraves.

Mary looked up to Lady Mother, there was a silence in the room, her father's body was cold, under a white, linen sheet. Mary reach under her mother's shawl to hold his hand.
It was ice cold, and pale
She suddenly burst into tears, knowing her fate had been sealed. She was to leave her father behind for England.
As arranged, Sir Henry Watergraves was buried at St. Marie's Cathedral, in Paris, in a grand tomb, three days later. The new Earl led the way behind the horse-drawn carriage. All the family were all dressed in black, and even Mary's three half-siblings were allowed to attend: Elizabeth, Edward and Margaret. Although they walked quietly, but hidden, behind the servants, away from Lady Mother's sight.

The bells rang as crowds gathered in silence, holding white roses.
Finally, her father, the great Sir Henry, was laid to rest.

That night her mother had handed Mary a ruby ring. Her grandmother Watergraves most prized possession. Her younger sisters did not want it.
It gleamed at Mary while it laid in Lady Mother's palm.
Her head flooded with memories as she place the ring on her fingers. It was too big.
Lady mother took it off Mary's tiny, fingers. Grabbing a silver chain from her own neck, taking the ring, Lady Mother treaded the ring onto the chain, before placing the necklace around her daughter.
"Your ancestors will always be with you" Lady Mother whispered, before tilting her head to look out the frosted, winter night.
For the first time, Lady Mother looked uncertain of the future.

Mary stood at dock, the chill of the mourning twirled around her.
She watched the white sails of the "Queen Elizabeth" head towards land. The De la Mothe banners flapped in the soft but brisk wind.
The grey Mothe castle of a shield of red, always gave the family is "unbreakable strength" - it's that strength that was unmatched and a rival jewel to the House de Valois-Angoulême.

The captain mentioned that God was favouriting us to travel to England from Calais.
The servants in their Mothe red and grey, when the boat had docked and was secured, went about placing our beloved processions onboard.
Mary made her way to the helm. It was her father's boat. His crest still visible as she brushed against the engraving.
"Watergraves belong to the seas" those words were embedded into her.
Water has always been a theme in Mary's gowns since she could remember, her Lady Mother made sure of that. Today Mary wore a deep blue gown, the sleeves looked like fish scales, twirling around her body until it met her bodice, embroidered with a fish of small, white pearls with silver thread, and the silver chain around her necklace.

Suddenly, Lady Mother called out to her, and like the dutiful child, Mary climbed down the stairs towards her.
She suddenly noticed the older gentlema, Grandfather de Églantine, who stood beside his daughter and grandsons. He had mentioned that another daughter, Lady Marie, would follow the train since she was recently widowed and so with English children, her place was with her older sister.
Grandfather was here to see them off and give them his blessing. The Duc always held himself like a King, Mary was watching him as he spoke to Aunt Marie, her face white and uneasy.
The old Duc, wearing all black, did nothing but stare down at his grandchild, - like a hawk, as her own brothers stood, nervously, behind his cloak.
Lady Mother broke the silence, "Father. I received a letter from Sir Charles de Tieuleor. Lady Joan is dead, so he has requested that we buy the wardship of his son and heir, Henry. I have met the boy, very quiet but sharp." 
The Duc silent her with a flex of his index finger. Finally he spoke.
"Yes. I paid for the boy. He is to come to England with you and the children, until he is of age and able to make his own way"
Lady Mother went as pale as if the air was sucked out of her by the devil. She was ill-prepared for his response.
"Father?" her eyes flicked towards her boys.
The old Duc, with a wave of his hand, summoned a maid, she quickly brought the boy to them.
She was sharp, quickly bowing to Lady Mother. The boy's eyes were soft as Mary stared at him.
She felt suddenly jealous of her sex. Another boy in the household, another friend to John and William
"Mistress Marie" he whispered, eyes to the ground and voice filled with the shake.

Before she even could reply, Mary suddenly felt soft and calm. It was then she knew that they would become great friends, their destinies will be entwined.