Disclaimer: I don't own The Tudors or The White Queen. But I'd absolutely love to.

The title of this story is a song from Yiruma or otherwise popularized by Twilight as their soundtrack. It is also a reference to the House of Rivers or Earl Rivers to hich Jacquetta of Luxembourg married into and continued the line.

Summer 1518

"I have decided, Thomas." King Henry announced to his mentor and friend of eighteen year. He had already told Wolsey of his intentions about the treaty and the old cardinal had already agreed to it. Soon, the whole council would know of it but the king had wanted to inform one of his most trusted guiders first. "I shall take Wolsey'd advice and sign the Treaty."

Thomas More, lawyer, statesman and humanist, found himself sighing in relief, for he had thought Henry would reject Cardinal Wolsey's proposal. England was still recovering for the long unrest that had come before the present kin's parents. She did not need foreign armies in their borders again.

"Something troubles you, your grace." the older man stated. Henry looked sadly at his former tutor and smiled widely, however it did not reach his eyes.

Picking a fresh parchment from a pile, the king started scribbling. Thomas observed the man he had come to see as his son compose a letter, wandering who the notice was for. When Henry had finished folding the parchment, he pured the hot red was and sealed it with the royal seal. "Man!" the monarch called for someone. A young boy by the name of Robert Crusoe, a supposed relation of the king, came in. "Take this to the Rochester Castle in Kent for the princess. Only return hen the letter has safely reached either my sister or Lady St. John." his voice intimating, Henry managed to widen the boy's dull brown eyes. Stumbling the messenger exited the room, leaving behind a conflicted king and an objecting advisor.

"I love my family but as king, the safety of my people comes first. And so should it be for a princess of England." Henry the Eigth said with finality. Sir Thomas could only nod half-heartedly to his king.

Rochester Castle, Rochester, Kent.

It was a sunny day in the banks of River Medway when the hooves of the royal messenger's steed was heard approaching from the Castle's gates. Sweating in the summer heat, Robert Crusoe, a Welshman by birth, left his mare in the stables to deliver the letter to the princess.

Unaware that the royal had decided to go for a swim by the river with her most trusted ladies, the young page entered the castle's keep.

Elizabeth, a princess of royal blood, listens intently to the river flowing by. It forms a rhythm and if you hear intently you can hear an unearthly voice singing to you. It is a happy song about a tragic princess who after suffering great mishaps finds happiness at the end. Elizabeth smiles contently, the sweet melodic voice reminds her of someone her mind has forgotten but in her heart she thinks it belongs to her mother. A woman who had died while the girl was still in nursery. It is absurd but the princess believes it is her mother's voice that she hears.

"Somewhat musing

And more morning,

In remebering

Th'unsteadfastness;"

"Your highness, there is a messenger from London." her recital is interrupted by Lady Devereux, a kin of hers from her mother's side. Effortlessly, Elizabeth gets out of the river shore, ignoring one of her lady's hand for assistance. Her pride would never let that happen.

"Ah, my dear brother misses me." Elizabeth laughed at her own jest. "It has only been a month since I left Whitehall." she said to herself as Lady Grimsby and Lady Holland assisted her into her gown. The dark velvet gown hid any of the scars that her childhood illness had left. Truthfully, none of the physicians had expected the youngest living Tudor to survive but she had, fought and won death itself, or so her brother boasted to the world. Unfortunately, battles left scars and his sister had to live her life hidden behind clothes that were suitable for a nun.

"The messenger seems to be in a hurry, my lady." Lady Holland added as she pinned her mistresses' flaxen hair, an oddity amongst her siblings but an inheritance passed on by her mother's father, Edward the Fourth.

"We shall not keep the gentleman from the important cases of England any further." their princess announced in mock seriousness. "Ladies, tell my men to fetch the chariot."

The ladies laughed along Elizabeth as they made their way back to the castle, escorted by her highnesses' men who had kept a safe distance from the river but not too far to not hear a cry for help. "Sir Humphrey." Elizabeth greeted the man ho seemed to be leading the small congregation of guards. At the man's surprised look, Elizabeth smiled. "How do you fare this fine day?"

Gilbert Humphrey, a bastard son of a duke's youngest son, was astounded to find that the lady had taken the courtsey to remember a mere soldier such as him's name. "Quite well, your highness." the humbled soldier answered truly.

"Good." the lady of the castle gave him another smile before leaving for whatever that waited for her behind the stone walls of her private chambers. When the last of her ladies were gone, Sir Humphrey still couldn't forget the bright green eyes of the lady. He found the lady pretty, so did most of the men in the village, but she was like the moon. Fair and pale, as beautiful as the fabled goddess Juno but scarred by nature. Shaking his head for the silly thoughts he made way to the garrisons with his men on toll, his wife would be expecting a letter from him.

Inside the royal residence, Elizabeth felt dread build inside her as she played with the letter in her hand. The messenger had gone long ago, who by the way resembled her father a lot she added to her thoughts. Uncertain to whether rip the wax seal and read the letter or burn it and send word that she never got it to her brother, she stood and walked to the window.

The heiress of Melusina peers out the stained window to glimpse at the river where she feels most at home. She listens for the same strong sweet song of the voice she hears. A smile graces her features when she hears the familiar bell-like ringing. Elizabeth leans against the window, an attempt to get closer to the source of the song but the more she strains the softer the voice gets. Troubled, the girl of eighteen summers shakes her head to clear the noise. She can hear it still but its frail.

"Are you okay, my lady?" the question hangs in the air. Elizabeth wanders what trickery her mind is playing ather.

"I'm fine, Anne." the unaware heiress of the water goddess answers, the letter with the royal seal still in her hands. "I was waiting for you." she explained putting the letter in the table nearby.

Anne was the closest companion Elizabeth had. It was only natural that she share evrything with her most trusted friend. Taking the carefully folded parchment in her slender fingers, Anne broke the wax with a nearby knife. The two girls exchanged a look before proceeding to read it.

"Dear sister," Anne started, completely unaware of her mistresses' sudden irritation. Her brother never wrote 'Dear' before 'sister' unless he wanted something. "I write you this letter in hopes that you have been well after your departure from London. Lady Devon, our aunt has asked for a visit from you once again, she says she gets terribly lonely in her estates and misses her favourite niece, especially since Aunt Bridget is not here to keep her company. Your niece, the Princess Mary is a joy, her governess tells me she has already learned to speak some few simple words. The Queen is ever more present and sends her regards." At this, Anne decides to clear her throat before resuming the letter.

"You must know of the new peace treaty that Cardinal Wolsey has so graciously arranged with the French. We are to leave for Calais for a summit and as a princess of England, the french would be honoured to have you as their new Queen. The one and true King of England, Henry Rex."

At once the furious blonde sprang to her feet, her mind already determined as she tucked the parchment under her riding boots and Anne fetched the lightest riding ccoat she owned. Elizabeth rushed to the stables, looking for the swiftest pair of palfreys that she could get her hands on and, together with Lady , rode for Bickleigh Castle.

Bickleigh Castle, Devon

A day later, Catherine of York, now the Dowager Countess of Devon recieves a haggard Princess of England and her head lady-in-waiting, who had rode alone on horseback from Kent. Thanking god that nothing unfortunate or dangerous had happened to her niece, Catherine brings her into her chambers and hands her a glass of ale.

The rest of the day is spent looking through the letter by the former princess and her young niece. Although from time to time Elizabeth's head plays the same sweet song she had heard near the river a day ago. She dismisses it as a trick her tired body is playing at her but cannot stop tilting towards the direction of the river on whose bank the castle lied. From her opposite, Lady Devon smiles secretively. 'Finally', she tells herself 'my mother has her heir'.

A/N:- This is an AU story so there will be some major timeline changes.

Let's clear things up for the people who're going what the hell?

- Claude of France, the first wife of Francis I, has died in childbirth in 1517. I decided to kill her off because without her death Elizabeth couldn't be able to marry Francis. Francis and Claude have three surviving children in ths AU:

1) Louise, Princess of France ( b. 23rd August 1515)

2) Charlotte of Valois ( b. 23rd August 1515)

3) Francis, Dauphin of France (b. 28th February 1517)

-Instead of Princess Mary being betrothed to the duc d'orlean (cuz there is no orlean in this fic), Elizabeth is betrothed to the widowed king of France.

- Princess Margaret (b. 18th March 1498), is older than Elizabeth but because she's older and Henry still doesn't have a male heir, she is not given to the french king, if Henry did and his line failed, Margaret's husband would have the ultimate power, which let's face it Henry would not hand to Francis. She looks a lot like her own mother.

- Elizabeth is a bit younger than in history (b. 2nd July 1500). She didn't suffer from atrophy in chhildhood but smallpox which she fought and survived but sadly left her with permanent scars. She looks a lot like her maternal grand-father with blonde hair and grey eyes, a complete opposite to her brother and father, both of whom have dark hair and blue eyes.

- Sir Thomas More has been tutor to all the Tudor siblings, Henry, Margaret and Elizabeth and loves them like her own children but his position as a mere gentleman bars him from showing his affections to the royal siblings.

- The first four lines that Elizabeth was reciting is an actual peom that Anthony Woodville, brother to Elizabeth Woodville, wrote just before his death. I took it from Philipa Gregory's 'The White Queen'. Can't remember the page no.

- Rochester Castle was given to Catherine of Valois in 1423, widow to Henry V and an ancestor of the tudor dynasty. It was in tatters after the Second Baron's Revolt and no monarch after Henry III sought to restore the siege castle back to its former glory, historically. In this AU, Jasper Tudor inherited the castle from his mother and rebuilt it when Henry VII came to throne. Later, King Henry and Queen Elizabeth of York renovated the castle for their youngest daughter in 1502, after her recovery form the sickness as it is closer to the coast and London.

- The legend of Melusina is very interesting and especially after reading the first page of 'The White Queen' I went onto wikipedia and did all sorts of research. How could I write a story about a Woodville descendant and not mention the mysterious water , Princess Margaret does not get to be the heiress despite being older because she was raised in the Catholic faith by her grandmother and had as little contact with her mother who died when she was young. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was sent away to Rochester Castle where her aunts visited her as often as they could and told her stories of the half-fish, half-human ancestress. But she doesn't believe herself to be descended from Melusina.

- Anne is a fictional grand-daughter of Lady Margaret Beaufort's maternal half-brother Oliver . She's twenty and the closest thing to friend to Elizabeth having known each other from the cradle. Robert Crusoe is also a fictional character. Son of Meredith Grey and Sion Gwryen and therefore grandson of Owen Tudor and Catherine of Valois (Meredith Grey being the youngest daughter of Tacinda Tudor with Reginald Grey, 7th Baron Grey de Wilton). Sir Gilbert Humphrey is another fictional character, an illegitimate son of Humphrey Stafford and Gillian Bertolhd, a maid in his father's service.

- Catherine of York, is now a widower of William Courtney, 1st Earl of Devon, in her late thirties who dotes upon her nieces and nephews, and great niece Mary. She does not have the magic of Melusina like her mother and her sister (although her sister never fully embraced it) but she had heard enough tales from her mother and believes it to be true. Although not very much educated, she has pro-protestant views on the church.

If I have done anything in the fic that offends anyone, I'm very sorry but I will continue writing this.