Chapter 1 - In which I was given a chance

I should have known. Of course there was a way to mess with me no matter what I said. I really should have seen it coming. But I didn't, and now I'm here. Stuck. Great.

It all started in a dream, mysterious and obscure as dreams often tend to be. I dreamed of things without meaning, of changing places and times and a thousand unknown faces. And then, from amongst the mists of sweven, a shadow emerged. Perhaps I should blame my current predicament on that demon, or ghost, or whatever it actually was. That strangely shaped creature appearing in my dream promising to make my words come true. But I'm not like that, blaming my own faults on others. It wasn't that shadow who said the words. It was me.

"People these days suffered far too much from their poor education. They knew too little, especially about the human mind. Any person with today's sound knowledge of history, politics and psychology would have outclassed the Tudor courtiers with ease."

That's what I said. Sometimes, I tend to have discussions in my dreams, wild philosophical controversies that I would never find real life partners for. Normally, my dream partners would spar with me, challenging, tempting and delighting me, but not this time. This time, my partner suddenly emerged from the dreamy mists.

It asked: "Do you mean it?"

Brash as I only am in my dreams, I straightened my shoulders and agreed.

"Of course. If I'd been in any of their shoes, Catherine's or Anne's or Jane's or whoever, I would have done better. A modern mind could have prevented so many of the troubles and woes of Henry VIII's time. It's not just me; basically anyone could have done it."

"But are YOU willing to be the evidence of your argument?" the shade insisted.

"Well, how could I? The past is in the past."

The shadow drew closer. I should have felt intimidated or forewarned, but dreams have their own strange rules, and this dream had made me somewhat overconfident.

"And what if you could? If, in this dream, you could go back in time to verify your claim, would you be willing to risk it? If a dream could last a lifetime, would you have the heart to live it, far away from your own time? Could you live another woman's life to substantiate your argument?"

"You are trying to trick me, aren't you?" I retorted, thinking myself oh-so-clever. "You'll hear me say yes, and then you'll put me in the body of some washerwoman in China just to prove I couldn't have done anything about the course of events in England. No, thank you."

The shadow shook its head. Did it even have one? Dreams are so confusing.

"I do not mean to fool or double-cross you. Speak your demands. Whoever shall you be? A courtier?"

"Someone who has the King's ear. I do not wish to waste time trying to struggle for his attention. That would not prove anything. If you want me to prove that a modern mind can change the course of history, give me a position with enough power to do so. Let me be a woman that Henry cares for. I could be…"

The shadow interrupted me. "You will not get to choose a name. That would be too easy and thus no worthy proof."

"Fine," I agreed. "But these are my demands: I'll be a woman Henry likes or loves. At a time when he likes her! Not Catherine after she's fallen out of favor or any of the like. Not Anne Boleyn a day before she's dragged to the Tower. I want to have a chance. A real chance to change things."

After what seemed like eons, the shadow complied. "So it shall be done. When you open your eyes, you'll live a life in dreams, from this day hence until the day you die. Everything you'll feel shall be as real to you as any feeling you've ever had. When you bleed, it will hurt. So will death. You will have no powers beyond your modern mind you pride yourself in. See to it that your argument is proven."

Slowly, the shadow began to degenerate into vapors of grey mist, disintegrating into the darkness that surrounded me. I felt elated. I'd been given a chance to prove myself. How little I had thought about the consequences. How much more I should have demanded before agreeing. But I hadn't. And now I'm here.

As I opened my eyes, a myriad of strange sensations flooded my mind. Smells such as I'd never known before, unfamiliar surroundings, and the strange but distinct sensation of being in a body that wasn't mine. I hastily escaped the bed searching for are mirror, anything to show my reflection, but found none. My body felt strangely light, my limbs fragile. What had that shadow done to me? What nasty trick was this?

And then the door opened. A young woman entered, speaking an old-fashioned form of English that I mysteriously seemed to understand.

"Forgive me, your Highness, I didn't know you had already risen. I shall not be late tomorrow, I swear. Should I assist you getting dressed?"

Overwhelmed, I shook my head. "No, I… just fetch me a bowl of water, please. I want to wash my face."

As soon as the girl had disappeared again, my mind began wandering. Highness, she'd called me. I had to be a member of royalty then, but who? One of his wives? Henry's sister Mary perhaps? The agony of ignorance sent my heart into a racing frenzy.

"Here's your water, my Lady," the girl said upon returning.

"Thank you, Cecily," I replied instinctively, immediately stupefied by what I had said. How could I have known her name when I'd never seen her before? And why would I be able to speak in this strange, old-fashioned way? Was this really me or … a part of whomever this body belonged to? My mind seemed to be running amok.

Suddenly, I found myself saying: "I beg your pardon?"

The girl was looking at me with a frown. She had obviously asked me something I had barely taken notice of. "Are you unwell, Your Highness?"

"No, I just…" I had to get to the bowl of water she'd brought me. I had to get her to say my name, or anything, anything really to understand what had happened. "What day is it, again?"

"It's Wednesday, Your Highness."

"I meant the date," I said all too harshly.

Cecily, the maidservant – MY maidservant – withdrew at the brazenness of my tone. She stuttered searching for words. "My lady, I… I'm not sure. It's June, Your Highness. If… if it helps, I can bring you the concoctions the physicians prescribed?"

"Concoctions?" Now it was me frowning. "Whatever for?"

The girl blushed. "The heavy moods that seem to plague you during… that… time of the month. Forgive me, Your Highness, I should not speak of such things."

As if her words had pulled me closer into this strange reality, a sharp pain rushed through me such as I had not felt since puberty. I immediately understood what she meant. That time of the month! And perhaps, I thought taking in a sharp breath, that also explained the lightness of my limbs. Perhaps I wasn't as much of a woman as I had been in my true life, perhaps I was in a girl's body now, not much older than Cecily herself.

"No, thank you. Just make me a…" A tea, I wanted to say, but suddenly remembered it would not be easy for her to take a short detour on her way to the kitchen. A detour to India. Dammit. "Fetch me an ale, would you, please?"

"An ale in the morning? But my lady, what if the King hears about it?"

I sighed as another bolt of pain rushed through me. "You think he would even care? Now, please get me ale."

The girl complied and curtsied, but before she left the room, she said something remarkable.

"I… I do think he would care. I firmly believe His Majesty still loves you with all his heart, my Lady. You are his only child, after all."

The sound of the door closing behind her was akin to the brick that seemed to smash my head in. Well played, dream demon, well played. Of all the women you could have chosen, you took Mary, Bloody Mary, the unwanted daughter, the bastardized princess. The one whose life was fucked up by King Henry from beginning to end. The one history will remember as a brief footnote of burning Protestants. Thanks a lot.

But you're underestimating me. I stand by my point. I'll make this chance count. Unwanted daughter or not, the King will listen to ME. I'll change things for the better, I'll save his queens and children and even himself from the bloody tyrant he's about to become. I'll spare England decades and centuries of religious warfare. Anyone with a modern mind can do it, even in the body of a castaway princess. Just you'll wait.