A/N: This chapter is all Jane's POV. Enjoy!

Part Three - The King's Light
Chapter Thirteen
Across the Seas

16 May 1572

Jane's room was filled with ladies scurrying about, packing all of her stuff. Mary sat in a wooden chair in the corner, reading a book and occassionally looking up. Jane had never seen Mary, usually the happy-go-lucky one, so upset.

She was permitted to bring three ladies to France. She made sure that two of them could speak Spanish. She preferred English, as it was her mother-tongue, but if she was to go ten years without speaking the language that her mother taught her, she would feel as if she betrayed her mother.

"You may leave," she ordered them all. "Thank you for your service."

They curtsied to her and left.

"You needn't be so solemn, Mary," she boomed, trying to brighten the mood. Her sister just looked at her. "We can write to each other."

"It won't be the same, Jane. This could be the very last time I see you," she said.

"You can visit," she replied. "When you get married, you can visit me whenever you please. Or perhaps I shall ask my lord husband if I can visit you, or come back home even."

"Most husbands would not approve, Jane," Mary stated. "You're only fooling yourself."

Jane stared at her, gaping. She barely noticed that someone had entered the room.

"Your highness, I have come to take you to the ship," it was Barnaby.

She turned to look at him. "So soon?" she questioned. "I thought I was to leave after midday?"

"Your lord father told me to come, your highness."

"I see," she said hoarsely. She looked at Mary pleadingly, as if her sister could do something about it.

"Your lady companions are waiting at the dock," he told her. "I suppose you wish to say your goodbyes. I'll be waiting outside the door."

"Thank you, my lord."

He nodded and left. She was immediately pounced on by her sister, her brown hair smothering her. Jane laughed and pulled away from the embrace.

"He'll be kind, most likely. Father's not so cruel as to give you to monster," Mary said. "Maybe you'll enjoy your time there."

"I thought you were angry with me," Jane replied.

"How could I be angry with you?" Mary asked rhetorically. "Its not your fault. I was upset and sometimes I'm too much of a realist."

"Indeed," Jane said, laughing.

"Can you imagine that this could be the last time we see each other?" Mary said. "And this is your last day in England and Father hasn't even visited you!"

Jane smiled sadly. "I didn't expect any more of him."

Mary embraced her again, sobbing softly. Jane tried to stop herself from crying. She hadn't cried at court since she was a child. She wasn't willing to ruin that record now.

"You ought to go," Mary pulled away and wiped her eyes. "You shouldn't leave Lord Fitzpatrick waiting for too long."

"I will miss you so much, Mary," she said.

"I'll miss you too," Mary smiled. "Now go. And I love you."

Jane smiled at her before turning away and not looking back. She opened the door slowly, savouring her last few moments in the room. Lord Fitzpatrick was waiting exactly where he said he would be. He smiled at her pitifully. She was tired of pitiful smiles. He offered her his arm, which she took.

He led her out of the palace. She kept on thinking about Mary. How will she get on without her? There was a million things racing through her head all at once. All the things she could have said.

She realised that Lord Fitzpatrick was bringing her out the backway of the castle, where a carriage was waiting.

"My lord, isn't the docks the other way?" she asked.

He smiled a cheeky smile. "I want to bring you somewhere else first, your highness, if that's okay with you?"

"Where?" she questioned.

"Nowhere dangerous, I can assure you. And no one will know. I believe you will be quite thrilled when you find out," she was suspicious, and it seemed to show. "Come on, you can trust me."

She bit her lip, but got into the carriage none the less.

It was silent for the majority of the trip, but then she saw something. A large tower. The tower of London! Where her mother was held! He had brought her to the tower where her mother was! She would finally see her mother!

But maybe this was a trap. Maybe she was going to be imprisoned in the tower like her mother. The carriage stopped in front of the great castle. Fitzpatrick got out first and helped her out. He handed her a hooded cloak.

"Put this on and make sure you're not seen," he ordered. She put on the black cloak. The hood covered her hair and most of her forehead. "Keep your head down."

She tipped down her head so that she could only she Fitzpatrick's black shoes in front of her. He led her up the spiral stairs. The tower was dirty and very dreary looking. It smelled as well. She heard people screaming around the palace.

"The usual payment, m'lord," she heard a gruff voice say.

"Here," said Fitzpatrick.

"In you go," a door opened.

"You can pull down your hood now."

And so she did.

The room was empty save for a bed, three stools, a window, a table and chair and a fireplace. There was a woman with grey-brown hair, sitting on a stool in front of the window. That couldn't be her... She's only thirty-five.

"Your majesty," Barnaby said.

The woman turned around. "Barnaby?" she greeted.

Her eyes set on Jane. Immediately, Jane knew that this was her mother. She looked a lot like Mary, in fact, but older. Her eyes were a warm brown and her skin tanned. Her body was scrawnier and weaker that Mary's, though. It was clear she wasn't getting the food she ought to.

"My daughter," she said. "Jane?"

Jane nodded. Isabel stood up and approached her. She appeared to be weak and shook as she walked, or even as she just stood. She wrapped her in a motherly hug. She was getting more hugs than usual today.

"Aren't you suppose to be marrying Prince Henry?"

"She's leaving at midday," Fitzpatrick said. "I'm afraid you only have a few minutes."

"It's enough," Isabel smiled at her.

"I'll be outside," Fitzpatrick said and he left, once again.

"He's a good man," her mother said. "He's the only one who has visited me."

"I couldn't-"

"I know you couldn't, Jane. And I know you would if you could. You and Mary. Tell me about you and your sister. How are your studies?"

"Father has given us the best tutors. Mary's the scholarly one, though. She loves learning and reading," Jane informed. "She speaks Spanish, French, Latin, Greek, Italian and Irish fluently."

"Any you?"

"Spanish, Latin, a bit of French," Jane said, "and a bit of Greek. But Mary spends her day writing or reading texts in other languages."

"She sounds like her aunt, Elizabeth," she replied, laughing.

"Except without the red hair," she said, smiling widely.

Isabel let out a barking laugh. It reminded her of Mary's laugh. Her mother gestured to the table with two chairs. She sat down on one of the chairs and her mother sat in front of her.

"Have you written to you betrothed?" she asked.

She shook her head. "Father hasn't made much of an effort to encourage us to 'get to know each other'."

"He's chosen this marriage because it is a second son," her mother said. "And to spite both you and me."

"He's not the man he once was. He's gone cruel. I feel sorry for his new 'wife'," she spat. "I wonder how this one will end up."

"Jane! You shouldn't wish such things on people!" her mother scolded, though Jane could hear the trace of laughter echoing in her voice.

"She's an odd woman. She acts like a child."

"How old is she?" her mother asked.

"Barely seventeen," she replied. "Though she doesn't even act like a seventeen year old. She doesn't even look like one."

"Poor girl. She's too young to be married to your father," her mother said.

"Prince Henry is seven years older than me," Jane stated. "He's twenty-one."

"Yes, but Edward is thirty-five! This girl is seventeen! I believe that is a much larger age difference."

"I suppose," Jane said. "Her family pressured her into it. Lady Catherine, her sister, is quite cruel to her. I've seen the way she treats her. You would swear Lady Catherine is the Queen and Lady Rose the Queen's sister."

"You acknowledge her as Queen?" her mother asked.

Jane went wide-eyed. "No, no!" she stammered. "You are! Its just, Lady Rose considers herself Queen, as does most of court-"

She was cut off by her mother's chuckle. "I know, I know. I was jesting."

"Oh," Jane went red-faced.

Her mother went into an extreme coughing fit. A woman rushed in and patted her mother in the back and put a towel to her mouth. Jane saw blood on the towel.

"I haven't been well lately, Jane, I'm afraid."

"You'll get better though, won't you?" Jane asked hopefully.

"I don't know."

There was a knock on the door. "Come in!" her mother said.

It was Fitzpatrick. "I'm afraid that we must leave now, Princess. They might get suspicious."

Jane stood up, as did her mother. Her mother wrapped her arms around Jane and held her tight. It was as if someone had given her a gift and then ripped it away from her. She felt angry at Fitzpatrick, but grateful all the same.

"I wish you all the best, Jane," Isabel said.

Jane's eyes welled with tears that she didn't dare let fall. All that she wanted was to stay in her mother's arms for a little while longer, but alas, all good things were to come to an end.

She pulled away from the hug, her eyes puffy.

"I best be going," she said hoarsely. "I'll miss you."

She curtsied to the Queen and went with Fitzpatrick.

"Pull your hood back up, your highness," he ordered.

She trusted Fitzpatrick now. Perhaps that was his plan, to bring her to her mother in an attempt to get her to trust him. She was always overthinking things, but gestures of kindness were rare at court, especially from her father's companions. They were always plotting something or wanting something.

She got back into the carriage. This time, it led her to the docks.

"Your highness, I must ask you not to tell anyone. Not even if you would trust them with your life," he asked.

"I won't," she insisted.

It was a long journey to the docks, even though it was only ten to fifteen minutes. She savoured every piece of England that she saw, smelled or heard. The trees, the gossip of old women, the banter of men, the smell of freshly baked bread... She'd miss England. Her mother had never went back to Spain after she left to marry King Edward. It would probably be the same for her.

The carriage finally pulled up at the dock. She was helped out of the carriage by Fitzpatrick. They made their way to the ship. It was a fair sized ship, nothing fancy, but it was suitable for what it was for.

She stepped onto the ship, knowing that it would probably be the last time she stood on English land. She wondered if it was warm in France. It would probably be warmer than England, even though England was going through a heat wave at present, a rarity.

Fitzpatrick led her to her small room in the ship, smaller than she had expected.

"Your ladies will be here to help you unpack," he said. "We'll be in France in five days, so I advise you not to get too comfortable."

"Thank you, my lord," she replied, giving him a slight smile.

He nodded to her and gave a small bow.

She could learn to trust Fitzpatrick. He was all that she had, besides her ladies, for the next few days. He must have done something good to earn her father's trust, and he had done more than enough to earn hers. But yet, she didn't feel as if she could trust him. She never trusted anyone, really. Mary, perhaps, to some extent. She never liked talking about how she felt, instead she bottled it in.

She was worried - scared - that her husband might be the same monster her father was. She was scared that he might throw her in a tower or ship her back to England to live in shame for the rest of her life. What if the people in France didn't like her? What if they tried to poison her or stab her in her sleep?

The ship began to take sail. And what if the ship drowned at sea? What if her father made it so that the ship would definately sink at sea? The ones he wanted off the ship - like Fitzpatrick - knew where the lifeboats were. What if the captain locked her in her rooms, to drown all alone?

She knew she was being silly, but anything could happen. She had to be careful, nobody could be trusted here. And she was a fool for almost trusting Fitzpatrick.

The life of a princess was lonely. Especially if that princess' father despised her with a fervour.