"You dare to tell me that I cannot see my own daughter?"
The voice of King Henry VIII echoed through the hallway, causing the maids and attendants to cower.
"Even at six my Mary has more authority in this kingdom than you could even hope to see."
"Papa?" a small, rasped voice called from inside the nearby room.
Henry's blistering anger softened to a boyish smile and he quickly moved to kneel next to his ill daughter's bedside.
"How are you feeling, lovely girl?" he asked her.
"Better," Mary said. "The soup helps."
"That is very good, darling. I am happy to hear this."
Henry petted Mary's hair, continuing to smile lovingly at her. It was well known that Henry Tudor wanted….needed a son. He'd been disappointed when a girl had been delivered, but truthfully he could never be disappointed in his sweet princess. Mary was the jewel of his heart. It was Queen Katherine, the child's mother, whom the anger was directed towards.
"Papa, when may I go outside again?" Mary asked.
"As soon as your doctor says that you can. Even princesses must listen to doctors."
Mary sighed. "But it's ever so boring here."
"Well, my dearest daughter, I promise that as soon as you are well again we shall have a picnic. Just you, myself, and Mother. How does that sound?"
"I should like that very much."
Henry smiled brightly, a smile that he had passed on to his daughter. Neither could smile without their cheeks flustering red.
"And a new kitten as well," Mary continued, folding her hands in a very ladylike fashion.
Henry chuckled. "We shall see, sweetheart. We shall see."
True to his word one week later when Mary's sore throat had surpassed Henry and Katherine took their little girl out into the castle garden for a private picnic. Joining them were two kittens that Henry had miraculously discovered hiding in his coat pockets.