A/N: Seriously, Showtime owns the Tudors, history owns the historical facts, and I just own Elisabeth, her kids and my plot.
Summary: the Red Rose of House Tudor.
In another world, she would've been the daughter and only child of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. In another world, she would've lost her mother at an age too young, far too young, and would've been the subject of her father's neglect. In another world, she would've been imprisoned and scrutinized by her sister when the latter was queen. In another world, she would've been the Virgin Queen, Good Queen Bess, Gloriana: the hailer of England's Golden Age.
This was not that world.
And yet, her mother knew what could've been, and the Queen laughed at the coincidence.
Elizabeth Tudor was born on the 7th of September, 1533. No one knew why the Queen Elisabeth smiled so mysteriously when it was announced that the second babe was a girl.
Lizzie
Lizzie preferred the solace of books inside the library of Hatfield (where the royal children resided), and it was a fact many pointed out. Tori would be running around and causing mischief, giving her nannies grey hairs, Mary would be playing in the gardens, and Kate would be praying.
But not her. She preferred reading books; she could get entranced at the way Isabella of France systematically put herself in power, or be enthralled at the way her namesakes, Elizabeth Woodville and Elizabeth of York, played their cards to gain the throne of England for themselves without bloodshed, or be impressed by Isabella of Castile's resolve. But her favourites were always of Henry VIII Tudor and his daughter, Elisabeth I; in other words, her mother and grandfather. After all, how many young girls could claim their royal mother went to the battlefield to deliver a speech at eleven years old? How many girls could say that their grandfather was given the title of Fidi Defensor when in their thirties, which was considered young for that? If one were to answer logically, the answer would be six, counting Lizzie and her sisters.
History and languages were her forte, something Mother seemed proud of.
The redhead knew she was special, and not in the way most children meant "special". She knew that there was something about her that would make her mother smile that secret smile of hers, the one that no one would understand. Just like Harry, she was near identical to Mother, but they both had Father's dark eyes; the rest of the siblings – save Jackie, who was all Mother, – were a mix of their parents, or leaning towards looking more like Father, but it was usually the former. Tudor genes were strong.
That basically just meant that Lizzie had vibrant red hair, freckles adorning her rather astute face, and "enthralling" dark eyes.
At the age of five, she was gently explained that she was to marry Prince Frederick of Denmark and Norway in order to secure a three-way alliance between England, Scotland and the joint Scandinavian kingdoms. It was for this reason that Lizzie had taken an interest in their history, folklore, and about the place in general – including political stances, which her mother assured she'd be learning once she was old enough (i.e. eight).
She resolved to be the best queen Denmark-Norway ever knew – even surpassing Margarethe I, the founder of the Kalmar Union. Mother said she would be, and to not doubt herself about that.
Margaret II, Queen of Scots, her future sister-in-law always did say that Lizzie had a knack for ruling in her; that no one else objected to it was testament to that fact.
Like her mother, she also had a rose-related title, keeping in mind her fiery red hair (which had become quite the royal trait these days): the Red Rose of House Tudor. Mother seemed to be proud of it and amused by it at the same time. Really, her mother was ever so mysterious sometimes, that no one could ever know what was going on in her head.
Lizzie was ten when the Bedfordshire Plot happened, and found that her mother's anger was the last thing she wanted to be on the front of; you will give me their heads...or I will have yours. Her loud anger, when she screamed and disregarded all protocol for dignity – though she only did it in the presence of family or almost family – was scary, yes, but the quiet rage, that simmered under her mask of sereneness, when she was seething inside was terrifying. Oh, her more thick siblings might think she was calming down, but Lizzie knew better.
She was only saving it for the people more deserving of being in front of it.
But, it was terribly stupid to think that kind of anger would be directed at any of her children. Mother loved them far too much, but the underlying fear couldn't help but be there in her.
Elizabeth, like her mother, also didn't like to unnecessarily use up money, so her allowance was more kept safely than used than any other of her siblings. Still, even on the matter of money, Lizzie was curious, and decided to sneak into her mother's office to find just what her and her sisters' dowry was.
The first thing she noticed was that all sisters bought an equal dowry with them. The second thing she noticed was, well – 500 crowns, 200000 ducats, 1000 silvers and additional jewellery?!
From behind her, someone chuckled, "I am rather sure huge dowries are a Tudor tradition. Mine own was only missing half the ducats, and half the silvers, but had half more of the crowns; the additional jewellery is something that just...is."
"You- I- but- but- I was sure no one knew I was sneaking in!" then immediately, Lizzie but a hand on her mouth. Did she have to put her foot in her mouth? Oh, Mother would be so displeased...she just snuck into her study like that.
Contrary to all the scenarios going on in the redheaded princess' mind, her mother only laughed softly, "Your curiosity is not to be curbed, I know. I'd only you rather see just your own dowry than all your sisters' as well," Mother pouted, something the younger girl was sure she never did, "Now I'll have to tell them all what their dowry is; shame, I was quite hoping to see their faces when I told them right before it was delivered."
Who knew her mother, the serene and regal lady queen, had a mischievous side?
Lizzie certainly didn't. Perhaps Aunt Maria did...
Seven years later, she was leaving her country for Denmark-Norway; Lizzie would be lying if she said she didn't at least shed a few tears.
Truthfully, she was sniffling, and it took all her self-control to not just begin sobbing.
"I'll...sniff...miss you all...sniff...so much!" Many more assurances of letters, a little more sniffling, a lot of hugs, and a kiss on the forehead from her parents later, the redhead was ready to go.
It was time to be the greatest queen Denmark and Norway ever had the pleasure of having.
As the wife of King Frederick II of Denmark and Norway, sister-in-law of Margaret II of Scotland, and daughter of Elisabeth I of England, Lizzie knew she played a key role in securing the Denmark-Norway-England-Scotland alliance. And yet, when she found out her role for England had shifted from daughter to the monarch to sister to the monarch, the politics didn't matter.
Her mother was dead.
No one in the court complained if Elizabeth of England, Queen of Norway and Denmark wore mourning clothes for six months straight, and never let go of the one last trinket she was gifted.
A/N: Okay, so that's done. Yes, did anyone guess who Lisa's daughter is? Of course you did. I more or less flaunted it in the first paragraph itself, and you readers are smart enough. I almost accidentally wrote Christian II of Denmark as her husband, can you believe it? That Frederick-Christian-Frederick thing makes it very confusing. Did you know that Lizzie's husband is a year younger than her?
Anyways, on another note, the Notes chapter won't be added as a chapter, but as information on my profile AFTER I FINISH THIS STORY: which is not that hard to believe, because all I have left is four chapters, guys, four! I mean, not that long ago, I wrote a one-shot out of boredom and lack of ideas for any other fandom, who'd have known it would grow to become my possibly longest story?
See ya next time, bringing up: Lionel!