A/N: I do not own anything you recognize. Also, this chapter has a slight crossover with Harry Potter and Percy Jackson & the Olympians, but it's not a major thing. And no, Lisa won't be burning people.
Thanks to Unknown Miko and my mother for the idea.
Please note: Lisa's religious views are her own, and I don't mean to offend anyone through them. It's just the fact that she's somewhat of a Reformist.
Summary: A monarch's work is never done.

1529 AD

I woke up at dawn as usual, considering I made it a habit to 'wake up with the sun'. It certainly helps when you have mounds of paperwork.

My trusty guard, Sir Edmund Potter, also the brother of Lord Jason Potter, 17th Marquis of Stinchcombe, was right behind his Queen. One would wonder why the brother of a marquis would 'lower himself to become a mere guard', but being the guard of the monarch themselves was an honour a lot of lords pushed their sons other than the heir or their brothers into, not that the people who were asked to do the job minded.

I'd always believed guards in medieval times were knighted commoners, but apparently, that was just the palace guards, since the sovereign's guards were a whole other thing. Maybe not all the knowledge from the future was accurate; then again, you can't always expect information of centuries past to be able to be passed down accurately.

But I was getting off track, the words Potter and Stinchcombe (they were descendants of a certain Welsh guy: 'Linfred of Stinchcombe') were together, in nobility, and I just chalked it up to J. K. Rowling inspiring family names and other stuff from history through her family's diaries.

But then we have a Viscount Malfoy, Lord Phineas Black, 6th Duke of Blackstone, Baroness Weasley (apparently, they were a matriarchal family), Lord Longbottom, 8th Earl of Glastonbury.

So either Lady Joanne (and wasn't I getting used to the way people spoke in this time? Cheers to me) had derived a lot of things from family diaries, or my suspicions were not suspicions, but the truth.

What suspicions, you ask?

Well, I'm of the humble opinion that witches and wizards exist and are doing a fantastic job of deceiving us. But I'll not burn them, I'm a tolerant Queen: 'I see, and say nothing' remember?

And Edmund's a loyal guard.

Mother is a very adamant Catholic who is hell-bent on expelling all 'heretics' (aka non-Catholics) and 'abominations' (witches, wizards and pagans) from the world, like my grandmother Isabella of Castile. Mary's religious fanaticism hasn't yet developed, and I personally blame it developing in the first place on the English Reformation, which hasn't happened this time around.

(I don't even understand how humans – a single race – could become so racist).

In the very confines of my mind, I refuse to believe in a God that would actually sanction the burning of humans or things like the Spanish Inquisition, which is practically genocide, even if the people responsible sit around and think they 'did the right and proper thing'. And no, I don't accept the Pope's unparalleled authority either: if the crown is a 'God-given right' and the king (or queen in my case) has to bow to none but God, then why exactly does the king (or queen) have to answer to the clergy? So, if what you've gathered is right, yes, I'm what you could call an Elizabethan Reformist. That's not to say I'm a staunch anti-Papist person either, I was raised by two of the most Catholic Catholics in these years (yes, Henry VIII was very papist before the whole Anne Boleyn thing happened and need I even say anything about Katherine of Aragon?).

But we're getting off topic. The topic of my thoughts is that apparently, the Lady Rowling's 'secret society' does exist after all.

A Potterhead's dream, I suppose.

Anyway, so our dear Sir Edmund was standing guard outside my study's door, while I was doing the most boring thing of sovereignty: paperwork and legal documents.

Okay, yes, have to sign this one...why is this in my mound?

Does he actually think I'm that stupid?

This is not the worst offer, but I'll pass.

Another one of these, God, after four years of refusing...hold on a minute: what are Cousin Jamie and Auntie Meg asking for? To, the Queen, blah, blah, blah...we believe...it is clearly a wonderful course of action...we humbly request you to consider this.

And consider it I will. A marriage between my first son and James' first daughter; his first daughter, who might also happen to be his only surviving child: Mary, Queen of Scots.

And if I do some proper politicking, my grandson or granddaughter might just be King or Queen of England and Scotland.

But there was always the chance of James V siring a son on his wife – or his other sons (James and Robert) surviving – considering his early death was hastened by a battle that probably won't happen.

Still, off to York we'll go, it seems. This letter is going to be kept in my 'important and agreeable' drawer. Back to the other stuff.

Yep, signing that.

Why do these people even bother?

I have the most undeniable urge to tear this paper into pieces, throw it in the fire and deny it ever existed in the first place.

Seriously? Francis wants me to break off the betrothal with Portugal and marry his Dauphin dearest after a war while we're practically holding his other son hostage? Not happening, idiot. Go marry him to Catherine de' Medici or something. Let's just hope you don't restart the Auld Alliance. So, this paper is going nowhere until the alliance and peace with Scotland is decided.

I put that paper in its place, the 'disagreeing, but dangerous for now' section.

Another hour later, somewhere around six, which means breakfast time, my work was already over (for now). Being Queen was not all sunshine and roses as some people believed it to be; I'll probably get another mound by noon, and spend my afternoon doing it.

Then there was the household managing, which was thankfully left to Mother, though I did occasionally butt in when I wanted to do some things.

As for our dear Lady of Aquitaine, she helps Mother, or gets to know Henri a bit better. I've heard they're close friends right now, so obviously, that 'getting to know each other' is working.

Mary Brandon née Tudor, Duchess of Suffolk

She woke up at six in the morn to break her fast with Maria (she and Katherine had decided to use the Spanish form of Princess Mary's name, considering there were two Marys), Katherine and Elisabeth.

Elisabeth had also recently been relieved of her Regency Council. Not that it mattered, really, Lisa had run the country herself before, with the Regents only helping here and there, and being basic advisors, if nothing else.

Maria and Katherine's good mornings were cheerful and fresh enough, indicating a good night's sleep; but Lisa seemed distracted. Obviously, they made little small talk.

"What say you, Lisa?" Maria asked for her elder sister's opinion.

"Huh? I'm terribly sorry, I was not paying attention." The young Duchess blinked; it was, after all, a first time for Lisa not paying attention on something.

"Your mind is on something, hija?"

Her niece nodded slowly, and admitted, "I am fearful of Scotland restarting the Auld Alliance which is possible since I haven't replied to Francis' or James' offer of a marriage alliance. The thing is, James' was more sensible and I intend to agree, but the Auld Alliance is older."

Mary was intrigued, "So, why was James' more sensible?"

"Well, he asked for my firstborn son's hand in marriage for his eldest daughter rather than my own for his. Francis, on the other hand, asked for my hand in marriage for his older son, Francis – the Duke of Brittany. The point is, we can't snub Portugal like that, and we already have an alliance with France through the Duke of Orleans, which means Scotland is our smartest option. That way, four countries' alliances are secured."

"Four? But aren't we in alliance with only three through marriage?" Well, Maria certainly needed more tutoring in this.

"We already have an old alliance with Spain, with more than one Spanish bride being Queen or a Princess of England by marriage, or the other way round: Mother is one of those Spanish brides herself. Not to mention, with the recently signed treaty and the marriage between Archduke Philip of Austria and Queen Joanna of Castile, or the one with Juan, Prince of Asturias and Archduchess Margaret of Austria if you go by a longer shot, the Holy Roman Empire is also allied with us."

Mary had to give it to her: Lisa had gotten this ruling business down to tee, or maybe Harry had prepared her more than people seemed to think.

Elisabeth

So, as you can see, I've worked out basic marriage alliances in this place. Anyways, now's the time to write a letter to our dear Aunt Maggie (no, she doesn't know I call her that) and Cousin Jamie (he doesn't know I call him that either).

Dear cousin and Aunt,

I would be most honoured to accept this proposal.

However, Portugal also needs to be asked, and therefore I offer to have a summit at York with all three parties present...

And so I continued my writing, hoping to impress my aunt even more with my mind. Jamie was naturally suspicious (my mother had killed his father during the Battle of Flodden field, and I was an English Queen – the border wars between our two countries were quite existent), but my wish for peace may have softened him a bit.

And, a three-way alliance between Portugal, England and Scotland, with me probably trying to put Norway into the fray, and a pre-kept alliance with Spain/Holy Roman Empire through two of the countries (mine included) secured England well-enough.

A King's work is never done, and apparently, a Queen is no less.

Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina

I was near a river...again.

"What do you want, O ancestress of mine? I've been getting this dream for ages, and I'm really sorry, but there's no way I'm drowning again. I am so not leaving this place before I'm at least fifty and have done enough work to bring peace and stability to the country."

"I knew this was the wisest course of action – sending you here; listen to me..." so I did, I listened as Melusina sang on with her melodious voice about what I was supposed to do.

"One last thing, Lisa: do this not in front of any witnesses save the Lady Potter – previously Lady Lyra Black, daughter of the late (5th to be exact) Duke of Blackstone."

"Whatever you say," I almost snarked 'Grandma Mellie' but then remembered she was also a deity.

Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina

I stood in front of the water with Lady Lyra in the middle of the night. Really, I never thought I'd do it, but here I was, doing some kind of weird water magic.

The former Black certainly seemed shocked, what with the Queen being a witch. Actually, I wasn't a witch, it was just a little magic I had in my veins due to being descended from the Limburg-Luxemburg dynasty – I couldn't do anything except the water stuff.

Idly, I wondered if this was some sort of twisted Percy Jackson reference. Wait...was I related to my actual fictional hero? Well, I could be considering the water things, but I let that out of my mind.

"Lady Potter; I hope this can satisfy you? From the minute Jacquetta of Luxembourg married the late Duke of Bedford, and then Richard Woodville, and gave birth with the latter to Elizabeth Woodville, who married Edward IV, and her firstborn, Elizabeth of York – my grandmother – who married Henry VII, magical blood has been in and tied to the Royal Family. I trust the Potters and Blacks do not hold any resentment towards me now for being essentially a non-magical person?"

"N-no, Your Majesty."

"And I trust this will never go out of the wizarding kind?"

"I shall make sure of it, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Lady Potter."

Did I intimidate Harry Potter's ancestor? Yes and I have no regrets of that: can't have such confidential information leaked after all.

As for my very dominant 'muggle' descent? I doubt the Blacks cared, I was a direct female descendant of Melusina herself, and even a muggle-born could earn the Blacks' respect through that – I did at least have magic in my blood before in that family's eyes.

I doubt the Potters cared whether their Queen was magical or not; they were a tolerant family that was loyal to the core.

What about the rest of the magical race, you ask?

Well, from what I knew, Potters and Blacks dominated the wizarding politics at the moment, and I had gained the respect of the person connecting these two families.

Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina

So, here I was, at the summit in York, between the countries of England (represented by me and Mother), Scotland (represented by Jamie and Aunt Maggie) and Portugal (represented by the Ambassador and Infante Duarte).

Details were hashed out, lands and titles were given and treaties were signed.

It was tiring, yes, but I'd gotten all the work needed for it.

Jamie's daughter would be considered the de facto Princess (consort) of Wales should I have sons; if I don't, however, his second son for my daughter would be okay.

In the end, the full details were:

a. Jamie's daughter would come to England when she is four.

b. She would be pre-installed Duchess of Ross with the subsidiary title of Marchioness of Ormonde (the Scottish one) that would pass on to her children: my grandchildren (gosh, am I already thinking of those?).

c. She would be already considered the Princess of Wales, Duchess of Cornwall, and Countess of Chester.

d. Should James have no sons – or should his sons' line die out – his daughter and her issue, as well as descendants, would be fit to inherit the Scottish throne (possibly uniting the two countries).

c. My possible future son would be able to hold the title of co-King of Scotland with his wife (if it comes to that) by virtue of the Scottish heritage he had (Matilda of Scotland, daughter of Malcolm III). I know there were a whole bunch of people before me in the Line of Succession to the Scottish Throne, but hey, use the little Scots blood I had, didn't I?

d. Jamie's marriage would not do anything to this treaty. Besides, I had rocky peace with France.

(Well, I had more than half of France, my sister was going to marry the French King's second son, and we also had said son in custody.)

And then I just remembered something: Mary, Queen of Scots, had yet to be born for another thirteen years.

Well, [censored for little kids].

What was I supposed to do now? But, let's face it: James is two years older than me, and therefore of marrying age anyway. Dorothea of Denmark's marriage to the Duke of Prussia was halted due to a marriage negotiation sent out to her father, King Frederick, in later 1525 (through my suggestion, not that anyone knew). Maybe he can marry her.

Or the recently widowed Dowager Queen of Portugal, Eleanor of Austria sounded like a nice option.

So, yes, those letters were discreetly sent. Now my brother had four potential brides to choose from as maybe Marie of Guise or Marie of Bourbon would do too. I was still leaning towards the first two: they were direct royalty, their countries did not have a history of bloodshed with mine (I very much doubt either of the two Frenchwomen would like their eldest daughter growing up in Elisabeth of England's court) and they were old enough to have children.

Speaking of children, though, I've got only one year before the wedding.

But let's not think about that. Let's think about how much of a beautiful bride Dory would make. Yes, I know Eleanor is my cousin, and thus more trustable to keep the arrangement, but constant marriages with Spain or Austria just isn't done – you have to add new blood.

(I tried desperately to forget the Hapsburg chin as an example of the follies of constant incest).

Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina-Elisabeth Regina

Bonus: Henri, Duke of Orleans, meets the Queen and Princess of England.

Henri of France

He was a little scared, after all, wasn't the Queen the same one whose armies bested his father's in war? Father said she was a girl and girls couldn't rule; yet, he was about to meet the living, breathing example of a girl ruling a country, albeit with a Regency Council: she'd rule when she was older anyways.

"Prince Henri of France, Duke of Orleans!" he quickly went in as his name was announced and bowed.

For a moment, he looked over the queen (as she was sitting on the higher throne) and the princess (the one next to the queen).

Queen Elisabeth – if his memory served him right – was the one in the flowing Tudor green dress, wearing an assortment of jewels and a king's crown (but wasn't she a Queen?) with red her hair loose. She held herself with grace and dignity, but was practically oozing power.

The Princess Mary was wearing a flowing blue gown, a few jewels and wearing the Prince of Wales' coronet with her strawberry-blonde hair tied back in a single braid. She held her chin up and her jaw was set in determination, more than he could say for many women in the French court.

"Prince Henri,"

"Your Majesty; Your Highness, Princess Mary." He'd heard the English Queen didn't like France; the young duke terribly hoped she wouldn't hate him for being French – then again, she was the one who arranged the marriage, so perhaps there was something he didn't know?

Note: Phew! That was tiring. Glad this chapter's done, but another will come in a while (or probably a week due to tests). Anyway, how was that? Liked it? Also, I'd like to repeat: Elisabeth's religious opinions are her own, and I do not, under any circumstances, wish to offend my dear readers.