Author's Note: First off, huge thank you to all my reviewers, you guys are awesome and I'm glad the short first chapter was a hit! Also, thanks to all you guys who favorited/alerted the story who didn't review, you guys are just as amazing! I hope this update doesn't disappoint.

Secondly, I have made some edits on the first chapter; I changed the marriage year of Catalina/Catherine and Arthur from 1501 to 1509. I know eight years time jump, but it's all in the grand scheme of things and it will make sense later if the characters are younger than intended. Also, for the purposes of this story, Henry (not King Henry VII, but little Henry) will be six and therefore born in 1503 opposed to 1491. Arthur will be fifteen and Catherine/Catalina will be seventeen. It will make sense later, like I said. Sorry I have to make all these changes in the actual history, but like I said this is an AU fic. I will try and make it as accurate as possible but sometimes things are lost in creative licensing.

Lastly, a huge thanks to ReganX and Darkvampirewitch, you two are amazing! Thanks for all of your help.

Without further ado, the second chapter of King Arthur II! Don't forget to review!

(Hopefully this chapter is a little longer and more entertaining, although as it progresses I will make sure each chapter is longer and longer!). Enjoy!


Eltham Palace

December 17, 1509

It didn't make any sense why GOD made him as the second son. He was stronger, faster, and much smarter than Arthur. His father may have preferred Arthur over him because he was much more serious than Harry, but Harry knew that his mother, his sisters, and even his sour old grandmother were fonder of him because of his charms and wit even at such a young age.

Harry might have only been six but there was a great deal he knew over his brother who was nine years his senior.

For starters, he was much better at Latin than Arthur, even though Arthur was more advanced because he had better tutors; Harry knew that he was better at Latin than his brother was when he was six. Although both of the Tudor boys could boast good looks, Harry knew secretly that he was far more attractive than his pale brother, his mother had even remarked how similar he looked to her father, and his nurse, Mistress Luke, later told him that it was a wonderful compliment and next time he saw his mother he should thank her gravely. Harry, even at age six, understood people much better, and knew how to win them over and show affection when needed, even if he felt none. Along with these things, he was always able to win at all the games he and his siblings played, he showed a talent for music and even could dance even though he had received no formal lessons!

Clearly, he was favored by GOD in so many ways, but why did He give the birth order to Arthur?

Harry spared a thought for Princess Catalina for a moment, his blue eyes and ruddy face twisting into a thoughtful look. He felt terrible for the beautiful girl, who was stuck with a cold fish like Arthur! How could his serious, solemn, and pale brother be a husband to such a beautiful girl?

It simply wasn't possible.

Before Catalina had come over from Spain, Arthur was dreadfully nervous for the wedding, although he didn't like to show it. Harry, although he felt slightly bad for his brother, was also gravely jealous. He would never have a wife; his father would make sure of that. From a young age, Harry's parents had decided that he would enter the clergy, which meant he would never marry a woman, even though he was a prince by birth.

It just wasn't fair! Although his parents were the King and Queen and he owed everything to them, he couldn't help but resent their decisions. Easy for them to say! His father married his mother as a means of peace, and he liked to believe that they were head over heels in love, even though his father was so cold to everybody, he had to believe he reserved some feelings for his wife and Queen.

Harry found it hard to believe that somebody couldn't love his mother. She was perfect to him. She was always kind to him when she visited and although she didn't play with him or hug him often, she reserved special smiles for him and ruffled his dark hair. She was never at ease unless she was around her children, and even though he was young he could sense the tension that his mother constantly held, especially around his grandmother.

He never called either of his parents anything but "Your Majesty" or "Your Grace" besides the occasional father or mother, but he heard other children call their parents "Mama" and "Papa". Mistress Luke had made it clear to him that he was not allowed to call them anything but formal names, even though Harry secretly believed that his mother wanted to be called Mama, at least by him, her favorite.

He was anxiously awaiting the visit from his mother today, because today he was going to call her Mama because his dowdy old father wasn't coming with her. She was going to be all alone, not even his grandmother was coming to see him. Harry didn't understand why, he was just happy to see his mother when she was alone, because that's when she'd play with him or hug and kiss him.

Harry longed to go to court and to stay there, but he couldn't. Arthur was at court now, but he was leaving soon with Catalina to settle at Ludlow. Margaret was going to marry the King of Scotland soon, so she was allowed at court until she left for the bordering country, so right now it was just Harry and his baby sister Mary. Mary was a nice baby and he enjoyed spending time with her, but he got so bored with her constantly gurgling and sleeping, so he was often quite bored at their little manor when Arthur and Margaret weren't around. He missed them. Mistress Luke and his governess sometimes played fun games, but they usually too busy supervising the household or his lessons. Harry almost looked forward to his lessons now, because they gave him something to occupy his time with.

But he didn't have any lessons today, but that was okay because his mother was coming!

"Your highness, the Queen is here," Mistress Luke announced, smiling at the young prince. She had taken care of Harry since birth and was very fond of him, looking at him as her own son at times.

"Your majesty," Harry greeted his mother with a shallow bow, waiting until she commanded him to rise. She was still the Queen, and as long as he didn't forget that he was sure that she would love for him to treat her as his beloved mama, not an estranged mother.

"My darling Harry, you have grown since I have last seen you, at Arthur's wedding was it?" Elizabeth of York asked, already knowing the answer. She often longed for her children and missed them when they were away. She was happy to have Arthur and his wife at court, along with Margaret, but she missed her two other children.

"Yes mother," Harry replied, beaming. He loved his mother's compliments the best.

"Have you been keeping at your lessons?" She asked, already knowing the answer. Harry reminded her so much of her brothers and her father, the York in him was clear. She had trouble keeping her affection and favoritism hidden, because at times she longed for the loving environment her father had provided for her as a child and could tell that Harry was not short of love or affection in his tender heart. Her husband had made it clear that she wasn't going to have influence over their lives, at least education wise, so she often stayed away, until she lost Elizabeth and then Edmund. She couldn't allow her precious time with them slip through her fingers.

"Of course Mama!" Harry replied enthusiastically, but then frowned at his word choice. He didn't mean to use it so soon!

"Oh my son, you do really love me as a mother, don't you?" She asked, tearing up. She loved her children but she knew that she was no more than a stranger in their lives, as all royal mothers were.

"Of course I do Mama. You are the best Mama ever!" He replied earnestly, not understanding the full truth. She looked so perfect to him and acted perfect as well, with such grace that never betrayed her feelings, how could he not love her?

"Oh Harry," Elizabeth replied, kneeling down to his level, which wasn't far since he was showing signs of being a tall child. She wrapped her arms around his skinny body, holding on tightly refusing to cry in front of her son. She never realized how much she had missed out on by refusing to get close to her children in fear that she would be disappointed by the lack of time they could spend together.

"Why did you come to visit, mother?" Harry asked, still not sure if she was pleased about his new style of name, so he aimed for a less formal name but still cumbersome to him.

"I have some news Harry. Your father wishes you at court in order to see your brother and new sister off to Ludlow and to say your goodbyes for now, and also for the Christmas reveals. He also wants you to have your own suite of rooms by him, since your sister is leaving soon for Scotland and the court needs at least one royal child in company. Mary is still far too young, and the baby isn't due for a long time. Also, your grandmother wants you to get lessons for clergymen who can't leave court necessarily to come tutor you," Elizabeth was firm on this last point, understanding how crucial it was that Arthur produce an heir so Harry could enter the church. Also, her mother-in-law was a formidable woman who oversaw her grandchildren's education, and it was her idea for little Harry to enter the church when Arthur had produced an heir, and Queen Elizabeth could not protest the orders of her mother-in-law. She had raised the Tudors up from nothing and she would not let Elizabeth's Yorkist ways get in the way of the new age, as she called it. Elizabeth felt nothing but dislike for the woman but could never say so out loud for it would displease her husband who did not take kindly to reprimands from his wife. Sometimes, she felt as if Margaret Beaufort was Queen and that she was nothing more than Henry's mistress.

"Of course mother. Who will be my new tutor?" Harry asked, curious as to who would teach him theology, a subject he was anxious to learn, although he didn't like the fact that it could be used against him. If he pretended to be a dullard and not understand his lessons, perhaps they would deem him unfit to enter the church, even though Harry was too prideful for that to happen. He always had to be better than his siblings, always.

"I'm not sure Harry, but I'm sure he will be a very learned man and teach you a great deal of things about your upcoming marriage with the church. You must be a good boy to your father, your grandmother, and to your new tutors," Elizabeth stressed, knowing that her husband would be very displeased if Harry proved to be too enthusiastic for his liking. Sometimes, when she was alone in her cold room because of some kind of ration or another, she wished she had married another man; a kinder man who would love her as a woman and not just as the mother of his heirs. She understood that it was important that the royal nurseries be filled with healthy sons, but she had four children already and was getting tired of all these pregnancies. She hoped the child she was carrying was a son, hoping that it would be good enough for her husband to have three sons and two daughters and that Henry would stop visiting her at night in hopes of conceiving again. It was unthinkable now because of her condition, but after the child was born and she was churched, she feared he would want more children. It wasn't that she disliked her husband; it was just that she wished she had more freedom as she once did when she was beloved by her father and mother and had a binding betrothal to the Dauphin of France, a time when a future as the Dauphine of France seemed almost certain.

Her father's death, Richard III's tyranny, and her marriage to Henry Tudor robbed her of her youth. She loved her children and she enjoyed being Queen of England and married to a decent man, she just often wished for more and realized that it was selfish, but she couldn't help it. She was aware that if she didn't marry Henry Tudor, their children wouldn't enjoy the same legitimacy that they did now and that she could have been executed as a pretender, as the Tudors were so famous for doing.

"Mother, you must see Mary, she's grown so big!" Harry beamed, looking up at his mother, no longer wishing to talk about his dreary future but about his beloved baby sister. He was sure that his tutor would be good and he could tell talking about it made his mama upset because she got the far away look in her eyes and Harry noticed she often got that look when they talked about his education, his father or grandmother. He hated seeing his mama upset.

"Of course, we must go see her. After we are done with that, I will have your servants pack all of your belongings, I'll stay here for dinner, and then we will leave for Richmond tonight together. I hope that you won't be too upset," Elizabeth asked, already knowing the answer. Harry didn't seem like the type of child that would hate a visit to court.

"No, of course not. If it his majesty's wish that I accompany you to court, then I am all too happy to comply," Harry responded, trying to sound neutral but inside he was beaming. He loved being the center of attention and with Arthur and Margaret far away, nobody would be able to resist showering attention on him, even his dour father.

He may only be the second son, but he was sure that God had something special in store for him.


Richmond Palace

December 25, 1509

Arthur usually loved Christmas, it was his favorite time of year because his whole family came and admired him and his siblings, and even though he was not a huge fan of pageantry, he enjoyed the Christmas banquets.

This year he knew it would be his last Christmas with his siblings and parents for a while, and that made him loath it. As well as that, he hated going out in public with his new wife, the proud Catalina.

Their wedding night was a disaster and he didn't like to even look at her because it reminded him that he wasn't lusty or passionate. He was dour, boring, and serious like his father.

At least that's what he thought.

His resentment towards his failure made him hate Catalina and her stupid Spanish pride. She laid in bed that night, not reproaching or comforting him. He knew that she was probably scared out of her wits, after all nobody spoke her language and she was a new comer in a stranger world, but he couldn't help but angry at her reaction.

All she did was stare at him with wide blue eyes, her little mouth twisted into a confused look. Arthur was ashamed upon contact with her flesh and cowered, fearing that he would be displeasing.

Now all eyes were on him and he couldn't stand it! Catalina was a stupid wife, not like his mother at all but too much like her own, proud and stubborn without a thought for her husband. She never tried to make any time after their first easier and although Arthur finally began to understand what was necessary, he couldn't help but feel ashamed at their first time together as man and wife.

Catalina stood next to him, completely erect as her curious blue eyes scanned the Great Hall at Richmond. Arthur assumed that she was surprised at the lack of decorations, food, and other things usually accompanying a wealthy royal family's celebrations.

She was doomed to be disappointed, Arthur thought cynically. His father's celebrations were boring when there were no ambassadors around to impress, who would send detailed reports about the wealth of England to their masters, and he didn't allow any extra money to be spent than necessary when their absences were noted. She would just have to get used to it, because next Christmas they had together would be spent at Ludlow, where their celebrations would always be low-key. She wasn't in Spain anymore and he was annoyed that she wasn't fond of the English ways, because she was his wife and soon she would be the Queen of England.

He looked back over at her, and softened at the sight of her scared face. It was to be expected that she would compare England to Spain, but he had to believe that she would soon get over it. He had to be kind to her because even though she was scared of him and scared of their marriage bed, he could at least make things more comfortable for her.

He gripped her hand firmly but kindly and offered her a small smile before leading her to the dais where the royal family was situated. He pulled out her chair, allowing her to make herself comfortable before sitting down next to her.

"Happy Christmas Catalina," he spoke in Latin, their common language.

"You too husband. This banquet is lovely," she replied, squashing all doubts that he had about her being unimpressed with English showmanship. He couldn't believe this pious daughter of Isabella would ever lie so boldly.

"I'm glad you think so. Would you object to me visiting your chambers tonight?" Arthur asked cautiously, knowing that she may be resilient after their previous attempts, and although they were usually successful in physical nature they were always failures on an emotional level. He could visit his wife whenever he pleased, at least that's what his father told him, but he was a mere fifteen and wanted to have a happy wife, not a scared one, as his mother often looked.

Usually he would ask her in a more private setting, but he knew that the only person at the table that understood Latin was his grandmother, his little brother, and Catalina. His grandmother was chattering way to his father as usual and young Harry was talking to Margaret, probably arguing as they often did.

"Not at all my lord," she replied with a smile, but he could hear the measured tone of impatience and disappointment in her voice.

"Oh God's blood Catalina, if you don't like me than just say it!" he replied in a harsh whisper in careful Latin.

His reply sparked her Spanish pride and dignity as she turned to him, speaking to him in a calm, measured tone, "You are my husband, Arthur, and have been for nearly a month. It is not my fault if you are not comfortable with our marriage or its duties."

"You are so insolent! But at least you speak your true feelings now, I was beginning to think you had no thought and that you lacked a personality," Arthur replied sharply, forgetting his usual cool temper and his resolve to be kinder to her.

"You forget to who you speak to, a daughter of Spain," Catalina replied, her blue eyes piercing through his own like cold daggers.

"I am speaking to the Princess of Wales, an English Princess, and you best not forget it," he replied, his anger apparent as he rose from his chair and took Margaret's hand to dance. His anger was even noted by his grandmother who shot a sour look to Catalina. Under normal circumstances, he would have cowered along with Catalina but instead he smiled, turning to dance, although he was a clumsy dancer.

He would not dance with his wife, visit her, or smile at her until she forgot her Spanish ways and was kinder to him. He wanted a happy marriage but she had to want it too. Until then, he would not be unmanned by his own wife.


Catalina was so glad that they were leaving for Ludlow in only twelve more days, where she could shy away from the royal family and her own shame. Also, she was grateful that the banquet had finally ended and that it was clear that Arthur wasn't going to come to her rooms tonight. She was glad for the brief respite to think.

She was fond of Arthur in the first weeks of their marriage and enjoyed talking to him, but his sharper temper made her angry. He was just as cold as his father and grandmother, and the sight of them together send shivers up her spine.

Tonight, at the banquet the two of them continued to send looks at her of scorn and dislike. It took all the patience she had to ignore the two of them, spoiled children drunk in their own wealth, true sinners. She didn't speak to Arthur again; instead she spoke to the young Duke of York and even a bit to Elizabeth of York.

She enjoyed the Queen's company the best, because she was the kindest woman she had ever met. It was hard to speak to her, but Elizabeth of York was patient and spoke slowly in English and used simpler words. She was nothing like her own mother, nobody could fill that void in her heart, but she was the best friend she could have met in England, although it didn't take her long to realize that the Queen held no power. All of it was in King Henry's hands and his shrewd evil mother's.

When she was Queen, she hoped to hold just as much power as her own mother did in Spain, although she had no right to it, she knew that she would be a better ruler than Arthur. Contrary to what Arthur, his father, and of course his stupid grandmother thought, she was not going to create a little Spain in England, she was going to respect England's customs but of course add her own influence. She learned a thing or two while she was constantly at war when she was a child alongside her sainted parents and planned to influence her husband to her ways.

That is, if Arthur ever learned to respect her, because it was apparent he was never going to like her.

She frowned a little bit as she looked at her Spanish ladies who would soon be leaving her. She knew that once she left for Ludlow all of her ladies would be recalled to Spain, including her duenna, and she would gain new English ones. She was allowed to keep one, and although she was tempted to pick her duenna, she decided to pick Maria de Salinas, a true friend since their shared childhood. Besides, her duenna was sharp and Catalina didn't enjoy her company, she already had enough sharp women in England to surround her and she didn't need a Spanish one as well.

"Your highness, the Prince is here," Maria spoke softly in her native Castilian. Catalina smiled at Maria and waved her hand to dismiss her as Arthur entered her chamber. Her ladies promptly bowed and left at another swipe of Catalina's hand, although they were reluctant to leave her alone with her cruel husband. Her duenna shot her a sharp reprimanding look but did eventually leave.

"Husband," she greeted him neutrally with a pretty Spanish curtsy and spoke in perfect Latin.

"Wife," he replied, frowning a bit. Catalina noted this and frowned as well, knowing what was coming next. "I have come to bid you a goodnight and to spend the night."

"I'm sure it was my lady the King's mother's idea for you to come, don't worry I won't let your secret get out if you just leave now," Catalina replied sarcastically, disgusted over the power that Margaret Beaufort held, although she was a bit jealous. Margaret Beaufort controlled everything at court, from when the newlyweds visited each other's beds to how long a royal woman was to be confined before giving birth.

She noticed Arthur cowered a bit, so she knew this to be the case, but he gathered himself before speaking, "I will not leave. We are still children under my father's control and I must obey him, even if you will not."

"Your father holds little control in terms of your grandmother. Even so, under the law we are not children. Last time I checked, I was over seventeen and you were over fourteen, although barely," she smiled at this last bit, knowing that his age had to have been a problem to him.

"Just stop it. I don't like this anymore than you do but nevertheless I at least try. You are such a boring creature when it comes to the marriage bed and I suspect even a bit infertile," Arthur hit a sore spot in the woman's pride; she had chosen her crest to be the pomegranate, an immediate symbol of her supposed fertility. He had to get a child out of her, and soon. He was under huge pressure to provide an heir.

"You demean yourself with childish insults against me. Leave or stay, but I will not lay with you," Catalina replied with a wave of her hand for emphasis before grabbing a piece of needlework, smiling a bit when she heard him sigh.

Arthur settled himself on her bed. This idea of marriage was going to be harder than he thought!