**Re-watching Hetalia is not good for me: it stirs up story ideas and intense historical research that I don't have time for (yet here we are). Sketchy Tepe here to ruin your day again by stabbing your feels ?The only thing you need to be cautious about while reading this fic is gore/violence and language. I did as much research as I could to make sure I was getting my facts straight about Queen Elizabeth's reign but I'm American (sorry) and kinda stupid so I sincerely apologize for any mistakes in this historical fic.

I'll also leave little footnotes at the bottom of each chapter in case you are unfamiliar with any of the historical references mentioned. Free history lesson for everyone!

Anyway thank you so much for reading my story and I hope you enjoy it.**

14 September 1533

"M-Mr. England, sir?"

He turned his head at the sound of his entitlement. "Hm?"

He spotted young Emily, one of the many maids working around the castle, standing by the doorway of the library.

"I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your time alone, sir," she said nervously, her voice hardly above a whisper. "But the king is requesting your presence in the throne room."

He couldn't help it; his shoulders slumped in annoyance and he let out a long sigh from his nostrils. He stood still for a moment before shutting the book he was reading (Thomas More's Utopia[1]—he wanted to relish in a society and government that wasn't his own for a change).

"What does he want now?" he muttered under his breath. He made sure that only he heard his own comment by keeping his voice lower than Emily's and speaking into the ancient bookcase while sliding the hardcover book back into its place. The young nation faced the maid once more, nodded once, and then said loud enough for her to hear, "Fine. I'll meet him there. Thank you, Emily."

She nodded back and then retreated from the doorway, quickly performing a shaky curtsey before taking her leave. He scratched the back of his neck and wondered why Emily was more anxious than usual. Was she uncomfortable around his presence (he made a lot of people feel that way apparently) or was it Henry's immature and foolish behavior that sent a shiver down the girl's spine? Either one has a fair chance at being the cause, Arthur Kirkland thought to himself as he strolled out of the library and through the many halls it took to get to the throne room.

Henry VII made almost every vein in Arthur's body burst in utter frustration every time he seemed to do anything. He had the temper of a child and the mind-set of a dog, he made absurd decisions and complained constantly, and Arthur had no choice but to go along with his every command. It was a country's job to serve their leader, no matter how crazy or barbaric they seemed. It could be worse, he reminded himself. Other countries had attended rulers much crueler than Henry. China has had his fair share of harsh emperors over time and I hear Russia is rather worrisome for his new prince[2].

Arthur eventually came to his destination and tugged on his high collar before pushing open the grand doors that led to the throne room.

It was late at night so the only thing that helped Arthur actually see into the long and narrow room were the occasional candles that were placed oddly around and the frequent bolt of lightning that flashed across the wide windows. In the dim lighting, he could see the faint outlines of the rest of the furniture that helped made up the throne room: the long red velvet rug that began at his feet and ran along to the other side of the room, the candelabras that kept on switching places every time he entered there, the tall portraits of English kings and queens that hung on the red walls, and not to mention the two gigantic thrones that sat underneath an enormous chandelier (which was unlit at the moment). He also made out two male figures near the thrones—one was pacing madly in front of the chairs while the other simply stood next to them, still and unnerved. Arthur could hear the pacing man's irritated shouts echo throughout the room and he instantly recognized the voice as the king himself. Although he couldn't get a good look at his face, Arthur assumed the man standing beside Henry was Thomas Cromwell[3], one of Henry's most trusted men. Arthur sighed, gently closed the doors behind him, and then slowly made his way over to the two silhouettes.

"…gave me another daughter!" Henry was exclaiming as Arthur strolled across the leading rug, the buckles on his boots clinking together as he made each step. "She promised me a proper heir, a son, and what does she present to me? Another illegitimate excuse—another daughter!"

Another flash of lightning blinked outside the windows as did another cry of thunder.

"How dare she do such a thing to me," grumbled Henry, acting as though the terrible weather outside was nothing more than the chirping of a lone bird.

"Your Majesty," Thomas spoke up, trying to soothe the king with rational words, "our country has had many wonderful queens in the past. Perhaps Mary is the rightful ruler; we can find her a suitable prince to marry when the time is right—"

Henry stopped at Thomas's side and threw his hands in the air. "I require a son!"

"You've requested me, my king?" Arthur casually interrupted, not containing enough patience to quietly stand to the side.

Both men turned their heads in his direction; they were both a little relieved.

"Yes, England. I did." Henry stepped away from Thomas and then continued with his pacing. "I have a problem that needs to be resolved."

"I assume it revolves around Princess Elizabeth?" he said. It was supposed to be a statement (he knew what Henry's problem was, everyone in England knew), but it came out in the form of a guess, for the king's sake.

A week ago, Henry's wife, Anne Boleyn, had given birth to a baby girl, Henry's second daughter. Arthur had seen her once for a brief moment on the princess's birthday before he was ordered to speak with Henry about the supposedly "dreadful birth."

It was now Arthur's turn to get snapped at. Henry quickly faced him once more and stated in a loud and firm tone, "You are not to call her a princess! She is illegitimate and should only go by 'Lady Elizabeth.'"[4] A short pause ensued before he went on marching. "But no. She is not of my concern at the moment. It is Anne."

Most people would flinch or feel rather anxious while being screamed at by the short-tempered king, but Arthur and Thomas were so used to it, they simply exchanged bored expressions with each other when Henry's back was turned. "You're upset because of her failure to produce a son?" Arthur asked (again he "asked" for the king's sake).

"Precisely. I don't know what I am to do with her. She cannot be queen if she fails to do as I ask which is one simple thing: to produce a rightful heir. Mary and Elizabeth can't have my position once I am gone."

Arthur scrunched his thick eyebrows in confusion. What was he planning to with her? Put her under house arrest like he did with Catherine of Aragon?[5] He was technically still married to her, but he figured now wasn't the best time to bring that up. Yes, Anne was snobbish and probably just as selfish as the king, but she didn't do anything wrong. He knew that she wanted to please Henry as much as she could—because he was the king or he was her husband, he couldn't tell.

"You wish to divorce her?" Arthur inputted.

"Something of the sort. She cannot be in power if she can't bring me a son."

"Just—Just give her some time. In a few weeks, you two could try again and she could possibly produce the heir you so desire." Arthur glared at Thomas who caught the hint and added in, "Yes. Just because Anne had a daughter the first time doesn't mean she will the second or third. Also give the new Prince—er, Lady the love she deserves. She hasn't done anything wrong; I'm sure your future son and heir will come soon enough."

Henry's pacing slowly came to a stop with his back facing both Thomas and Arthur. He's listening. Good.

"Anne only wishes the best for you," Arthur said. "She would never deliberately hurt or disobey you. Give her another chance."

And at least give your children some respect, you wanker, Arthur thought but didn't say.

Thomas and Arthur stood in silence for a while as Henry pondered their advice. At the flash of another lightning bolt, he turned and then nodded once in agreement.

"All right. I'll follow your guidance and hope for the best. Both of you are dismissed."

Feeling slightly better than before, Arthur bowed his head in parting along with Thomas and left the throne room, leaving Henry to look out the large windows, finally seeming to notice the chaotic rain and loud thunder.

Once the doors to the room were closed, Thomas let out a breath of fresh air and faced Arthur. "I must thank you for your helpful words, England. He always seems to calm down a little whenever you talk to him."

He shrugged. "You learn a thing or two when serving kings for hundreds of years."

Thomas smirked. "Well, I should report this for the others to see. They should treat Elizabeth and Anne with respect, just like how Henry wants it."

Arthur nodded. "I suppose I should pay Anne a visit and tell her not to worry so; Henry has given her another chance."

And with that, the respected men went their separate ways to do as they had said.

It took even more time to get to Elizabeth's nursery than it had to get to the throne room. Instead of passing his eyes over the marvelous decorations and exquisite antiques that adored the halls, Arthur watched his knee-high boots kick out in front of him as he thought about his conversation with the king.

He was able to save Anne from Henry's angered clutches this time, but he feared he wouldn't be able to the next time. He knew there'd be a next time; he wouldn't let this go for he could hold a grudge like no other. If Anne wasn't able to birth a son, Arthur was afraid she might end up like Catherine or worse. Bloody hell, what am I going to do? Words can only take me so far, especially with a quick-tempered man like Henry. Either Anne must give him what he wants or Mary better prove herself to be an appropriate queen.

God help us all.

He eventually made it to the nursery and when he discovered the door to be closed, he lightly rapped his bony knuckles against its wooden surface. No answer came through and so he tried again, a bit louder this time.

"Who is it?" came the muffled reply of Anne Boleyn.

"It's England."

A short pause. "Come on in."

He slowly opened the door, a slight squeaking noise following after it. The small room was much darker than the throne room—only one candle was lit which stood straight on a night table beside a rocking chair in the center of the room where Queen Anne sat. She held a bundle of blankets in her arms and was looking fondly down at it, at tiny Elizabeth Tudor. The sound of the old rocking chair creaking upon the floorboards and the thunderous raining were the only noises present, giving the room a mysterious feel.

"Try not to make too much noise," Anne spoke, not lifting her eyes from her child. "She just fell asleep."

Arthur tried to close the door as quietly as he could, but it still made an audible squeak and click. He straightened up and faced her again. "I'm here to bring you news."

He saw her smirk in the glow of the candlelight. "If Henry is still upset with me, then it's not considered news at all. Now if fat pigs had magically grew wings and are currently flying through the air, that would be rather interesting news."

Arthur cracked a crooked smile at Anne's sarcasm. "I'm afraid it's not that sort of news, but it is something to take note of. Henry has calmed down. Thomas and I spoke with him just now and convinced him to give you another chance. He believes you can produce him a son and hasn't given up on you."

At this, Anne looked up at him. For a beautiful woman, she appeared rather sulky, very gloomy. He couldn't blame her—she'd just given birth a week ago and was still recovering. She wasn't sporting expensive jewelry and exotic dresses like she usually did. She now had her dark hair pulled back into a saggy bun, wore a loose-fitting dress, and she was free of any accessories and makeup. She looked so tired. Tired and exhausted.

"Has he really?" she asked.

"Yes, he has. He won't treat Elizabeth like the lowly lady he thought she was, but rather as the treasured princess she was born to be."

Anne stared at him a bit longer, squinting her eyes at him like she was trying to uncover any secrets he held. Finding nothing, she smirked again. "Well I'm positive that his change of mind was your doing so thank you kindly. You're one of the few that he listens to." She looked back down at Elizabeth. "He refuses to listen to me. His queen, his own wife…"

Arthur shifted onto one foot, a little uncomfortable now. He didn't know how to respond to situations like this, where it solely depended on feelings and emotions. He wasn't good with those things; he'd often say the wrong thing and end up getting angry in the end. He was great at snapping people into shape, not comforting them.

Anne ignored Arthur's silence as she gracefully stood up from the rocking chair and strolled over to the wooden crib in the corner of the room. She slowly and gently placed sleepy Elizabeth into the crib and stared at her some more.

"I know my duty is to provide Henry with a son," Anne whispered, "but, after birthing Elizabeth, I can't see loving anyone else more than her."

Another comment that Arthur didn't know how to respond to. He was one of the younger countries around the world so he hasn't raised or taken care of another country like how a mother would. France was a pain in the arse (and still is) to be around when he first started out, Russia was too busy conquering smaller countries like Lithuania and Poland, and Prussia was doing a shitty job at attempting to raise Germany. He was the younger one, but yet he was the stronger one; he has invaded and took control of more countries than anyone else during his life and he'd won several wars and battles. Being the smallest didn't mean being the weakest or unqualified, it meant greater opportunities and more determined spirits.

"Maybe you won't love anyone else like her," Arthur mumbled. "Maybe you're giving her all the credit she deserves." He looked at Anne. "Perhaps it's everyone else not giving her a chance to prove herself worthy."

Anne slowly smiled, a real smile. She was suddenly beautiful again and no longer melancholy. "She has already proven herself worthy. She has entered this world alive and unafraid."

The queen swiftly turned around and headed for the door, saying before she left, "I will try my best to please Henry. Thank you for your service."

Arthur didn't say anything as Anne exited the nursery with the soft click of the door closing behind her. He stood still, staring at the now vacant rocking chair, lost in his own thoughts. His mind traveled back in time to around five hundred years ago, when his government was more unstable than it was now, when he was pushed around not only by other countries but by his own people. He remembered the anger and loneliness he felt and using those feelings to climb himself to the top, to become the best of the best, to show everyone that he was not to be messed with.

He was worthy.

Right?

Just then, a brilliant flash of white lightning struck outside the skinny window in the back corner of the room, illuminating the whole chamber. After the low grumble of thunder vibrated through the air, Arthur was snapped out of his thoughts by the high-pitched wailing of tiny Elizabeth. His eyes glanced over at the crib and he saw her little hands shake in fear and her body twist and turn as though she were attempting to escape from the horrible noise that was the thunder.

He sighed quietly and then walked over to the low crib.

"Oh, come now, don't cry," he muttered to the weeping child. "No need for tears, young one."

But that weak attempt did nothing to cure Elizabeth's terror. She continued screaming at the top of her incredibly small lungs and grasping at the air around her as if searching desperately for her mother.

"Thunder isn't something to be afraid of." He reached down into the crib and stroked back the wisp of red hair on the top of her round head. "You can bear through it, can't you?"

Again, nothing changed. Arthur replied by groaning dramatically and carefully scooping up the infant in his arms. "Oh, all right. I'll stop pestering you. You were born just a week ago, after all."

He strolled aimlessly around the room, struggling to calm the princess down. He gently swayed from side to side while mumbling whatever came to his mind: "There, there. Calm down, little one. Rain and thunder are going to be a part of your daily life here in London. Sometimes you'll have to trend through rivers of rainwater just to cross the front yard and the sound of thunder will become your nightly lullaby. I know—terrible, isn't it? But luckily that's why we have tea: to help make everything a little bit more tolerable. I'm sure you'll enjoy some whilst watching the rain fall when you grow older."

His rambling speech and slow movements ultimately quieted Elizabeth's sobs until she made no noise, merely glancing up at him with damp and sleepy eyes. He gazed back, studying her facial features now that she wasn't causing such a fuss.

Although she possessed her father's fiery red hair, Elizabeth appeared more so like her mother. Big brown eyes, ruby lips, a pointed chin, and plump cheeks. Her skin was a healthy peach color and felt like fine silk. She blinked slowly, trying her absolute best to stay awake but failing miserably. Her eyelids closed firmly like the entrance doors of her father's palace before falling back into a deep sleep.

Arthur stared at the slumbering child. There was so much peacefulness settled upon her features it was hard to believe that not a moment ago she was crying hysterically. Amused by this, he smirked.

"There may be mighty thunderstorms here," he whispered, fully aware that she couldn't hear him, "but trust me: this nation is worth it."

It continued to storm for the rest of the night.

[1] Utopia is a novel written by Thomas Moore in 1516 about a fictional island and its religious, social, and political standpoints. Thomas was later decapitated for refusing to acknowledge Henry VII as the Church of England in 1535.

[2] Ivan the Terrible was proclaimed grand prince of Moscow in 1533 and would later become tsar of Russia in 1547. Enough said.

[3] Thomas Cromwell was a statesmen during Henry VII's reign and was one of the best England has ever seen. He was also beheaded under the orders of Henry in 1540.

[4] "Lady" is the lowest term to be called when it comes to English royal positions.

[5] Probably not needed but I'm gonna do it either way. Catherine of Aragon was Henry's first wife and the mother of Mary Tudor (who is Elizabeth's half sister).