Summer 1503

Although Henry VII was heartbroken by Queen Elizabeth's death and continued to mourn her, he had to compose himself for another loss. However, though it would be a physical loss for him, it would be a great gain for not one, but two kingdoms. Yes, this was it. The moment finally came when his eldest daughter, Margaret, had to leave for Scotland.

Many were concerned about how the king would be parting with another child. He was so shaken by the queen's death that he withdrew from politics to spend time with his remaining children, especially the newborn, Princess Jacquetta. In fact, he took much solace in his youngest child, having a nurse to feed her, but looking after and raising the child solely by himself. He didn't even let his mother take over duties for the princess; he had all the responsibility, and took comfort and pride in raising his youngest and, what he though would be final, daughter.

June 27, 1503

While Margaret was finishing getting ready, she heard a knock at her door: it was her father Henry VII.

"Your Grace," Margaret relied, bowing to her father.

"No, no," Henry replied, putting his hands out to help his eldest surviving child get up, "you need not bow before me, Margaret. I'm your king, but I'm also your father." He then pulled her into his arms in a hug. "And besides," he continued, "soon you will be queen. Just like your mother."

For the first time since she was a little girl, Margaret rested her head on her father's shoulder. "I know, Father," she replied. "But I can't help but be so afraid. I'm so young, and he's so...old-"

"It will work, Margaret," Henry replied. "It must."

Margaret looked down, with her eyes cast away. "I wished to marry for love. Not for money, power, or glory." Suddenly, she looked back up, gazing her father straight in his big, brown eyes. "Or alliances."

"Meggie," Henry softly cooed. "Your mother and I married not for love, but for power, and glory. For a power alliance. Yet, it was meant to be. It didn't happen overnight, God knows that, but we grew to love each other. **smiles upright** I didn't know then, but the fates had decided that I be with the love of my life before I even knew it myself."

"But not every royal marriage is like your's and My Lady Mother's, God rest her soul," Margaret cried out. "Papa, you're a good man! Mama always told us, and Arthur, Henry, Mary, and I-we always saw it. You never shamed her or us, what most kings did and still do to their families." Then Margaret looked down, her eyes swollen. "What if he shames me? What if he-forces himself on me, to give him a child?" Then, her eyes met up at her father's. "Mother never told me what to do. She was going to. Until she...she..."

Henry bit his lip, and let out a slight tear while holding his worried daughter in his arms. "Meggie," he sternly stated, "if I could, I would tell you of such things, but as your father, I cannot."

Margaret composed herself, and Henry continued talking.

"But you do have Your Lady Grandmother. In fact, she was your age when she birthed me, and a year younger when she married my father."

"But she's so cold, Father."

"Meggie, she loves you," Henry replied. "After all, I did name you after her. She cares for you deeply. You haven't seen it, but you will. Especially on this journey." The king looked down. "Ask her, and My Lady Mother will tell you of these things. The things you shall do, the things you shall see."

Margaret composed herself, realizing she had to face her destiny.

"So I guess this is goodbye?," she coldly asked her father.

"On the contrary, far from it," Henry replied with a hint of happiness in his voice. "I shall accompany you on your journey solidifying your destiny as the Queen of Scots. I don't know if I can stay for the festivilites, but your grandmother will be there to help you."

Margaret smiled, as her father told her hands. "Don't worry, Margaret," he swiftly said. "You're not alone."

"But what of Henry, Mary and Jacquetta?"

"They shall be cared far at Richmond Palace. I'll be back with them as soon as I know that you're safe, secure-and that the marriage is official."

Then, they set out to leave, and began their journey. While in their barge, Margaret asked her father a question.

"Does it feel odd, leaving Jacquetta behind?"

Henry smiled, and soon replied. "Yes, Meggie. She is all I have left of your mother, besides you, Harry, and Mary, of course. And when the time comes to where I have to escourt her and say goodbye to her and Mary, I will truly be a broken hearted man."

Margaret looked out the window, while her father continued to talk.

"They say that the male is the heir, and that the female is used as the accessory. While this is true, I cannot bear to gaze at it that way. Perhaps it was because I never grew up in a true home, my Uncle Jasper and I were running into exile all the time, but a man's heart is truly empty until he learns the joy that is brought to it from having daughters. They may not carry the house name in their seed, but they carry it through them and the heirs or their husbands through their blood."

Then, she turned to her father, and asked, "So I am of Lancaster and of York?"

"Yes, Meggie," Henry replied. "You're a Tudor rose."

"Will they like me?," she asked.

"Yes Meggie. In fact, they're love you."