A/N: I do not own anything you recognize.
Shouting
Emphasizing on words
Summary: Well, this was going to come at some point. They're pretty early, though.
"And what of Her Majesty's marriage?"
I gritted my teeth.
This guy – Melby, Selby(?), aha, Shelby – was irritating me too much now. First, he only talked to Uncle Charlie as 'Lord Regent', and second, he was pestering us with the prospect of my marriage. I'm twelve, idiot.
That is it. Shelby needs to learn that I am his Queen, not a political pawn to be sold off.
"I believe," I said loudly, catching his attention, "That this council is made for decisions of State, not my personal life, and if I need advice in the latter, I shall ask for it, Lord Shelby." That better put the little Viscount in his place.
The rest of the council went uneventfully, though I caught Shelby glaring at me from the shadows from time to time. Right, a traditionalist, got to keep an eye on him.
Once we finished the meeting, I called Aunt Mary to my rooms.
"How do we keep an eye on Shelby without getting suspicious?" I cut to the chase. My aunt obviously asked why, to which I explained that he was glaring at me and was a traditionalist – it was clear in his conduct. And a traditionalist wouldn't take a Queen well, not at all.
After pondering this, Aunt Mary agreed that mine was a wise course of action, and that we should keep an eye on him.
Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina
It seemed in whatever world, or universe, the Howard-Boleyn faction would always be ambitious, thus their sending Anne Boleyn and to be my lady-in-waiting, like they sent Mary for Mother.
And I was not stupid; the way they showed off George Boleyn did not go over my head. A Boleyn as a consort, a king even, would increase their influence, power and position at court.
I gracefully ignored their advances without offending their heir.
"Lady Anne, I hear you come hither from the French Court?"
She tensed, naturally; my absolute distaste for the French was legendary among court, "Yes, Your Majesty, but in my heart and soul I have always been English."
I laughed, it was a genuine, happy one, but Tudor temperament in me was quite known, so she did get scared, "Oh, I mean nothing of the sort you think. Pray tell, do you have any stories of his – Francis' – stupidity, or the court's in general?"
She grew alarmed, but then calmed down, "Well, Your Majesty, there was this one time…" and so Anne Boleyn began a riveting (fake) tale, that discredited the French so much that I laughed out of pleasure. Certainly, she seemed to think she was getting into my favor. It takes more than that, and you ought to know it, Mistress Boleyn.
If the way Thomas Boleyn preened the next day was anything to go by, Anne didn't know me well enough.
After luncheon that day, I was sitting in front of a world map.
Spain is out…and so is Scotland (for now). Hmm, one of the Low Countries? England and the Low Countries have always had a close alliance. France shouldn't even be considered. Portugal…nice prospect. So that narrows it down to Portugal and the Low Countries.
So, what to do? Why on earth aren't there any proper eligible male bachelors?! Of course, Duarte of Portugal was an option…
I mean, he's Portuguese, a Prince/Infante therefore marrying him won't demean my position but he'll still be very down in the Line of Succession making me superior to him. Politically, not only would this grant an alliance with Portugal, through my mother and Aunt Maria (Duarte's mother), my descendants would have a double claim to the Spanish throne should something (God forbid) happen to Aunt Juana's branch.
And if I get him to live in the English Court, then the nobles and common-folk wouldn't think Portugal would rule them instead – after all, if he's bought up in England, why would he demean our ways?
Currently, the Infante is ten; perfect time to bring him in a mold him to be the perfect English Prince Consort.
If his parents agreed; but what kind of parents wouldn't want their child to be married to a sovereign?
So, Infante Duarte of Portugal it was, but he needed a more English name…Duarte stands for Eduarte most of the time, so Edward? Yes, Edward it is.
Now, to my little pet project: strengthening England's Navy.
Yes, yes, I know that nobody will believe this to be a good idea since we aren't at war, and have had relative peace for the last year, but mine is an Island-country; vulnerable in the eyes of people who think their armies could crush anything, but naval power would build great defenses (case in point: invasion of the Spanish Armada, even if it most probably won't happen this time around).
Some of them are even pestering for the Duchess of Aquitaine's marriage or, at the very least, betrothal. The Crown was weak right now. I was not an air-headed idiot, I knew I had to produce heirs and spares, make sure Mary did the same, and keep Frances, Nell and newborn little Henry safe – the Succession was important after all.
Would a Catholic Phillip of Bavaria do?
…Or we could just bring Henri, Duke of Orleans, as a marriage candidate for Mary. He's seven; French, sure, but easily influenced at the moment, and the duchy of Orleans could come into our hands too. But first: what Mary thought of her possible husband.
Princess Mary, Duchess of Aquitaine
Mary was sewing with her ladies, when the guard announced, "Her Majesty, Queen Elisabeth Tudor of England!"
Everyone in the chamber rose to their feet in respect for the Queen, who nodded and dismissed the ladies; it was clear she wanted to speak to Mary alone. Lisa was Queen, with Mary as the presumptive Princess of Wales and current Duchess of Aquitaine, but they were still children (children who missed their father).
"How are you feeling?" Lisa asked as common courtesy, if nothing else. Clearly, she was about to say something displeasing, but she wouldn't throw a tantrum. Her conduct should be befitting the Queen's Sister, the (presumptive) Princess of Wales and Duchess of Aquitaine.
"Fine enough, I suppose." It was a swift manner of askance, what is it that you want to tell me that you are hesitating so?
"A few days ago, at the Privy Council, a topic was broached," Lisa inhaled, "The topic of both our marriages."
That was why her sister was nervous, she was afraid Mary wouldn't like the most eligible marriages for herself.
"For you, one came to mind, but was dismissed on accounts of being a heretic, why I bothered with that one I don't know." The crowned Tudor pursed her lips, "The other is Henri, Duke of Orleans."
"What?! I don't know him, so I shall refrain from judging him, but a Frenchman? Francis' second son, even!" Mary hated Francis with a passion ever since the king had demanded her sister give up her lawful crown.
"Mary, I know how much you dislike him," dislike was an understatement, "But think of the advantages."
Well, he was Catholic. But what advantage did she have in being betrothed to a seven-year-old?
(Even if she was just a ten year old)
"He'll be bought and raised in the English Court the minute the betrothal goes through."
Bought and raised in the…oh.
Oh.
He'd be an English sympathizer, all ready to ask his brother and father to cease fighting with England and provide them with the Duchy of Orleans: a politically advantageous marriage, that wouldn't go completely disastrous if the bride and groom knew each other as children. And he'd give France a reason to stop attacking, they were – in sweet words and signed contracts – holding their Prince, the spare, their King's second son, hostage for all intents and purposes after all.
"Yes. But Mother…?" Mother was Spanish. That spoke enough.
Here Lisa grinned, "That's where my marriage candidate comes into the picture – Infante Duarte of Portugal. Well, Edward when he comes to England, but Infante Duarte nonetheless. He's Aunt Maria's son and a Portuguese Infante – a suitable compromise to you marrying a Frenchman." And this way, we'd have an in to two of the most powerful monarchies, besides our own of course.
The only thing left was convincing Mother. Uncle Charlie did not know about royal marriages much, so he'd leave it to his wife and sister-in-law; Aunt Mary, well, she wouldn't need convincing. Having a mix of Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth Woodville's blood, the Tudor scheming was inevitable, and their Aunt had gotten it just like her nieces; it seemed the Tudor women got it more than the men.
Elisabeth
Well, that went better than expected.
"Can you please tell me the story of how Grandfather Henry defeated Richard III?"
I chuckled, the Tudor victory had always been Mary's favorite. She's a patriot, this one.
Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina
"So you want to strengthen England's Navy, mi hija?" Mother confirmed. I nodded and gave enough reasons for it to go through.
By now, everyone knew I was the one ruling, and the Regents were just common courtesy and following of the King's Will. Besides, I was the Queen: it was my job to rule.
Now, I needed Thomas Cromwell. Yes, he was a Reformist, but he was also a diligent worker who did his job pretty well. And I was religiously tolerant; basically, my religious policy was the same as Elizabeth I: so long as you don't flaunt your religion (if it's the 'wrong' one), you have permission to practice it. In other words, 'I see and say nothing'.
Wolsey though, that one needed to go. Wait a moment, didn't some historical reports or something say he was stealing from Henry and built some Oxford thing from it?
I quickly ordered Uncle Charles to see through the Treasure Book.
An hour later, it was official – someone was stealing from the Crown.
(I knew that that someone was Wolsey, but I let the investigation go; can't have people thinking I planned it if I knew the answer after all.)
Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina
Princess Mary, Duchess of Aquitaine
Lisa and I were sitting and listening to Frances playing the virginals, when Mistress Boleyn drank the wine.
Normally, drinking something reserved for the Queen wasn't proper conduct, but her sister allowed it, so Mary said nothing.
"Your Majesty, Lady Anne, she's…!" one of my ladies, Jane, panicked. Immediately, Lisa got up, and ordered, "Get the physician!"
Someone tried to poison the Queen.
Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina
Dowager Queen Katherine of Aragon
Katherine was furious.
Not even a full year into her daughter's reign (though it was close), and someone committed treason. And Wolsey was stealing from the Crown. Why her late husband trusted him, the daughter of Isabella didn't know.
Elisabeth felt very guilty about Mistress Boleyn – the younger one – nearly getting poisoned, even if Mistress Anne's older sister, Mistress Marie (as she liked to be called, so as to not get confused with Katherine's daughter) assured Lisa it wasn't her fault.
Clearly, her daughter wanted to give reparations.
Anne Boleyn
As she woke up, Marie told her that the Queen saved her life. Now, Anne felt horribly guilty about spying on her for her family; in the almost year that she had reigned, Queen Elisabeth had done nothing but good for England, and saved a mere knight's daughter's life herself because she felt guilty. Yes, damn the Howards, if they couldn't see that their new sovereign was good for the country, then she would stop working for her uncle.
"Your Majesty?" Anne tentatively called out.
"Mistress Boleyn, I hope you are settling well after the incident? I am terribly sorry for what happened; the person responsible is being searched for as we speak." That kindness and soft, apologetic smile was all it took for Anne to start pouring out everything she did, everything she was ordered to do – even the plans that couldn't go through.
Even then, Her Majesty didn't dismiss her like Anne thought she would – she comforted her, and said she wasn't quite angry as Anne had come clean regardless of what she did past.
She should tell Marie. The Queen was far kinder than their family, and she would always need someone to keep an eye on others, surely she and her sister could work for her? She'd heard of little Kitty Howard, not even two and her parents were dead, meaning she'd be raised by the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk…maybe they could help her too.
But she was getting ahead of herself. The Queen had to agree first, after all.
Duarte of Portugal
At first, Duarte hadn't known why Father called him.
Now, he was staring at his sire in shock. Surely Luis would've been a better choice for the English Queen? Why him? He's just the fourth son, not even someone very important. But, it seemed, he was to marry the Queen of England.
It seemed Manuel knew what his son was thinking, as he said, "You are of a closer age to her so she chose you." Of course! Luis would've been nearly ten years her elder. He was a Portuguese Infante and he was quite far away from the throne, a perfect match to her.
"Yes, Father."
"You will be living in England from now on, so I hope you don't embarrass Portugal."
"Of course, Father." And that was that. Within one week's time, he left his home country, off to see his future wife.
When he met her, he found out why she was so well-respected by her countrymen – her regal aura just demanded authority and respect, but her graciousness was great.
Prince Henri, Duke of Orleans
He didn't know why Father lost to the English Queen.
Francis always said Father's armies were unbeatable and the most superior of all Europe, then how did they lose to an Island country?!
Obviously his brother was lying and England's army was better. If he ever became King of France, his armies would never lose! But, alas, he was just the second son, and would never be King.
When the Queen of England sent a betrothal between him and her younger sister, Henri was intrigued. Why would they want to marry the Princess Mary to him instead of Francis? But they said he would live in the English Court. He wanted to know what the English Courts were like! Father always said they were nice, but not better than France.
Then again, Father thought everything in France was the nicest, best and greatest.
Mary Brandon née Tudor, Duchess of Suffolk
She'd heard the betrothals, and found them perfect. France and Portugal: two enemy countries that weren't in the position to deny England, not when half of France now belonged to England and their Dowager Queen was the late Queen of Portugal's sister.
Truly, Lisa's intelligence was glorious. Sometimes, it reminded Mary of her illustrious and quick-witted grandmother, Margaret Beaufort.
As she entered her elder niece's study, she saw her in a disagreement with Sir Thomas More.
"I do not believe this to be wise, Elisabeth, I implore–," that seemed to be the end of Elisabeth's wits.
"No, I am Your Majesty to you, the Lord's anointed Queen and ruler of this kingdom! So do not speak to me of pardoning thieves!"
"But, Wolsey–,"
"No, absolutely not!" then she coldly addressed, "Leave."
"Majesty–"
"Leave." Lisa ordered a little more forcefully, so Sir More bowed and left. Mary had always thought her niece had her father and grandmother's temper; it seemed her assumption was wrong.
Elisabeth Tudor had Henry VII's wrath.
(And God save anyone who incurred it.)
Elisabeth
I stared at the paper.
Two words.
Just two words and Cardinal Thomas Wolsey's life was forfeit. Did I really have that right? Who was I to decide whether someone lived or died? How can I sleep soundly when I know I gave the approval to kill someone? Someone who was my father's trusted advisor at that?
…To be hanged or beheaded at the Queen's pleasure.
Do I have the right to decide if someone lived or died?
…And I swear that justice will always be given…
I had to follow my Oath, but I'll let him be beheaded – quick and less painful.
I took a breath and signed the two words.
Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina
Charles Brandon
It was Orkney.
James Shelby, 7th Viscount of Orkney, hath committed an Act of High Treason by attempting to poison Her Majesty, Elisabeth I of the Line of Tudor, by the Grace of God, Queen of England, Ireland and France, Defender of the Faith. It is on this day declared that he shath be hanged, drawn and quartered, or beheaded at the Queen's pleasure.
Charles took the document to Lisa, walking as fast as he could.
"Your Majesty," he bowed when he entered her study.
Elisabeth
Uncle Charlie presented me with the document that would finally decide the traitor's fate. Not that I had any intention of letting him live.
I looked at the parchment.
"He will be hanged, drawn and quartered as befitting a traitor."
The Duke of Suffolk blinked, "The nobles are usually beheaded."
I was the Queen, and they were supposed to dance to whichever tune I sang, but my uncle has a point. But: "The nobility need to be put into line again; this will show them that the Crown, and by extension, the House of Tudor, is not afraid to punish nobles like common criminals if their offense is too great. And high treason, Uncle, is always too great an offense."
I dipped my quill in the ink, and signed the Two Words once more.
Elisabeth Regina
A/N: Phew! That was more serious than I'd originally meant it to be. Ah well. So, Anne Boleyn is now (kind-of) loyal to Lisa; James Shelby, 7th Viscount Orkney, is a totally made up character with a totally made up title, who dies in the same chapter in which he's introduced, and frankly, not of much importance until later. Also, Wolsey is dead. Henri and Duarte are bought to the English Court to marry Mary and Elisabeth respectively; I actually meant for Henri to marry Lisa, but changed my mind later. The nobility always needs to be scared into line, heh.
Next up: the Sweat of 1528!