Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Yay for new stories! Hopefully this one engages you and takes you for an adventure, my fellow readers. This is set during the Elizabethian time period, so I've tried to make it as accurate as possible. And yes, all the characters besides Arthur were real people.
The Royal Court was no match for Arthur Kirkland, Duke of Bedford. They held no love for one another; the Court with all of its gilded grandeur, flittering ladies and pompous dukes and lords and barons did not agree with him. For all of the rich wealth it boasted, the hall was stuffy, stiflingly hot, and crowded. Arthur envied the ladies who waved their jewel-encrusted fans in their faces softly. At least they got some sort of relief from summer's burning clutches.
For all it was worth, Arthur Kirkland, Duke of Bedford, would rather have been out at sea. He spent all the days he could out on the shimmering blue; his love was the sea, his fearful woman whom only he could control and navigate and make her succumb to his wills. But not today, for His Majesty the King Henry VIII had invited him (ordered him, to be precise) to yet another wedding of his; Arthur could only wonder who the unlucky wretch was this time. If he remembered correctly, this woman would be his sixth wife, and hopefully his last. The King blazed through all of his wives, executing two of them and divorcing the other three.
Arthur was disgusted by how easily his King broke one of God's most sacred commitments, but he always had to remind himself no, no, no, these are traitorous thoughts to His Majesty the King.
This new wife his King was taking was a Catherine Parr, who was rumored to be one of England's most married queens. Arthur had snorted at the whispers: they were a perfect match in their marriage records, at least.
The ceremony itself went by fairly quickly compared to the eight-hour feast that came right after. Arthur wasn't inclined to sit and gorge himself silly, but his status and rank demanded that he take a seat near the newlyweds and pick at the mountain of food on his plate that was growing at an alarming rate. He did help himself to the jellied pork and roasted peacock; these he rarely got to see from all the time spent at sea.
As he chewed upon the English delicacies, Arthur noticed two children sitting at the top table with the King: the royal Prince Edward and Princess Elizabeth; Princess Mary was nowhere to be seen. He marveled at how they had grown. They had but been babes when he last saw them, and he took notice of their table mannerisms.
Princess Elizabeth, named after her grandmothers Elizabeth of York and Elizabeth Howard, was surprisingly mature for her ten years. Her red-gold hair was hidden underneath a veil decorated with rubies and emeralds the size of Arthur's thumbnail, and she ate delicately, occasionally sharing childish delights with her brother, Edward.
Arthur couldn't help but feel some kind of gravitational pull towards her, as if she were some important child, but he laughed at the thought: no female could ever be the successor to the throne. Even the lowliest peasant knew that. He remembered when Elizabeth had been born, how His Majesty King Henry VIII roared at the Master Ambassador Chapuys when he had bravely (others would say foolishly) suggested that "God has shown that that the succession to the throne of England will come down in the female line."
The fool. Chapuys was lucky to have kept his head upon his shoulders, for such an idea was unthinkable!
So it was. As the years progressed, His Majesty King Henry VIII passed away, leaving his son Edward to be crowned King; and he, too, soon passed away at the tender age of fifteen, leaving a civil war in his passing.
Arthur, having been out romping with his love the sea, heard only bits and pieces of news that came from London. After King Edward's death, a proclamation abounded throughout the land that bastardized Mary and Elizabeth, effectively barring them from the throne. Their cousin, Lady Jane, was pronounced Queen, but quickly fell from power after only nine days. Then was Mary dubbed Queen, who used her power to burn all those unfaithful to her religion, earning her the name 'Bloody Mary.'
If it wasn't so threatening to his position, Arthur would've scoffed and scorned them all.
Then came the time when, after all the plots to kill Elizabeth and restore Mary to power, Elizabeth was named Queen of England.
Arthur was forced to eat his words, but he still doubted that a female ruler would ever bring peace to war torn England: just look at the other two before Elizabeth.
But he was summoned to Court yet again, and so Arthur packed up and sailed back home, bade farewell to his sailing days (as well as his secret pirate adventures) and his wife the sea, and charted his course to London.
.
The Council was something Arthur had hoped to avoid, but his recent promotion to one of Her Majesty the Queen's chief advisors bade him to attend every meeting.
Every. Single. Damned. Meeting.
His nerves were frayed already, being unable to sail the Seven Seas, but the constant yelling and shouting and debating of all the royal men appointed to the Council wore him down even more! This time, the subject was whether or not Mary, Queen of Scots, should be allowed safe passage through England on her journey to Spain.
"The whore can just go around us!" Burghley cried, his mustache quivering in rage. "Who does she think she is?! If Your Majesty allows her to pass, Mary's supporters will only see it as proof of her rightful place!"
"Hear!" and "Yea!" were shouted.
"I hear the Queen of Scots is also with child by Lord Darnley!"
"Yes, yes 'tis true!"
And again, the subject was turned back to the Queen's refusal to marry.
"We need a son! A prince!"
"An heir, we need an heir now!"
Arthur wanted to slam his head on the table and drown their annoying voices. They screeched in vain efforts to be heard, and Arthur was just about to break down and yell at them all when-
"QUIET DOWN!"
Everyone flinched and stared at the Queen Elizabeth sitting above them on a dais at the head of the table. They had never heard her rise her voice; well, not at them, at least. He snickered behind a hand. What fools. Pig brains, all of them.
Her Majesty the Queen Elizabeth gazed down at them, quiet and contemplative, brown eyes cool and assessing. "Because Mary Queen of Scots is my cousin, I cannot simply deny her request. But I do not wish to go to war with the Scots, those barbarians." She gazed at Arthur, brows furrowing in thought.
"If I might speak, Your Grace, the people of England would never stand for it." The Chief Secretary William Cecil added in quietly, bobbing his head as he scribbled on his parchment. "Mary's Papist supporters are outnumbered and largely unpopular, but they are very influential people, my Queen. You must know about the only reason you are ruling – with all due respect, of course."
Everyone heard the unspoken: It is only with the people's consent that you are holding your place as Queen.
Arthur liked Cecil. The old man didn't favor anyone, and didn't seek anyone's favor: it was ironic that it was for this trait he was favored by the Queen. Arthur secretly thought that so far, much of the Queen's success she owed to William Cecil; he was proving to be a very effective Chief Secretary indeed.
"Your Majesty?" Robert Dudley First Earl of Leicester spoke, standing to make himself seen. Glares and pointed glances were sent towards the Earl, who either ignored them or took no notice of them. Arthur knew why: it was rumored that Robert Dudley and the Queen had a fiery affair going on, which seemed to be truer and truer every day the Queen lavished her favor unto him through royal titles, estates, and even, some whispered, her cherished virginity.
"Yes, yes, speak, my Earl." Queen Elizabeth waved her hand impatiently; Arthur saw a faint tinge of a blush blossom on Her Majesty's cheeks, but he shook it off. Who was he to question royalty, with their strange ways and confusing speech?
"Should we not capture the Queen of Scots, Your Grace? The lady assumes and asks too much of our England."
Reluctant murmurs of agreement broke out. "He is right, my Queen!" Broke in Sir Walsingham the Spymaster. "That Mary has tried multiple times to plot the demise of Your Majesty! It would not fit us if she was allowed to parade in our streets raising followers left and right!"
More people screamed their agreement. And Arthur pretended to listen until the meeting was finally, after four long hours, called to an end.
