A/N: Seriously, Showtime owns the Tudors, history owns the historical facts, and I just own Elisabeth, her kids and my plot.
Summary:He is the first child born alone, and loneliness is his most.

Lionel

He always felt as the loneliest of the siblings.

He didn't have a twin to turn to like Mary and Kate, he didn't have a sort-of wife like Harry, and he didn't get Tori's company as often as Ned or Bella, though the former of those two preferred Lady Anna as well.

He didn't think Mother understood, as she'd had Aunt Maria, and obviously not Father. But Lionel had a horde of siblings too, didn't he? Then why did he feel so alone?

His mother had betrothed him to some princess of Sweden, Katharina Vasa or Catherine of Sweden, and he knew that one day, he'd get married; Harry didn't seem to mind marrying Meg, and Mother and Father liked each other, so it would be fine for him, right? Besides, he'd have someone who didn't prefer someone else's company over his!

Mother tried, she really did, but between ten children, a sister, the realm, and Father, her time was cut thin. Being Queen was very hard work from what he'd heard from his eldest brother and seen from his mother. So he didn't want to bother her.

The time he was invited to court alone was when Princess Katharina and her parents, the King and Queen of Sweden, had come – the King and Queen were obviously there to discuss the betrothal with its terms and connotations, while the princess was probably there so they could get to know each other a little.

Princess Katharina was fine, he supposed; quiet, but intelligent if one talked to her, and fair. Lionel reckoned he wouldn't be absolutely miserable with her, maybe not in love like his parents, but mutual tolerance and respect, perhaps?

It was at that very visit that he overheard an argument between his parents.

It was purely accidental; he was going to his mother's rooms to ask about a few things that he'd read, when he heard voices, voices that he recognized as his parents', and stopped.

"...Lisa, it's not a terrible option, just think about it rather than refusing it outright," Father was saying.

"Not a terrible option, Duarte? I will not." Mother responded. Lionel was even more curious now – his parents rarely, if ever, had a disagreement.

"All I'm saying is that being fostered somewhere in the north might be useful for him."

Him? Who was him?

"I am not sending my son that far away!" his mother's voice was almost shrill; not fully, of course, his mother was more dignified than that, but the barely noticeable shrillness did indicate her frustration.

"Clarence House, then. It'll be helpful for him to learn about how to manage a household, Harry does it with Ludlow, and so did you, and that's since you were six."

"I, nor Harry, or any Prince or Princess of Wales managed a household at six, Duarte. Managing households wasn't a part of our lessons until we were ten, and he is eight."

He was mother's only eight-year-old son. This was a conversation about him!

"Then what about waiting two years?"

Mother sighed, "I don't want Lionel to think of us as the parents who sent him away – goodness knows he feels lonely as it is no matter how hard I try."

"I don't either, but coming here helped me too, didn't it?"

"That was different." The Queen countered, "You were going to live here anyway,"

"I am not asking you to send him to Sweden, for heaven's sake! And you sent the children to live at Hatfield."

"Hatfield is two days' ride away from here, while Clarence is about two weeks away. The north, on the other hand, would take a month."

"I don't remember my father as someone who 'sent me away', despite the fact that he agreed to your proposal, now do I?" There was a pregnant pause. "Yes, I know he barely saw me, fourth son and all, that he focused more on Juan and Luis, but still."

"You barely knew your father, Duarte."

"I barely knew either of my parents: Mama was busy with her pregnancies, closer to her daughters, and then died, and Father was busy with matters of state and his first two sons. That doesn't change the fact that it'll be good for him...and the realm, you told me yourself how difficult it is to reign in the north of this country."

Another pause. "You do not tell me how to run my country, if my father thought I can do it myself, I can very well do it myself."

"Elisabeth." Father tried.

"Edward. Leave; now." Mother's voice was positively frosty as she coldly dismissed Father.

His father, on the other hand, took a deep breath, probably bowed, and left with a "Your Majesty."

The next few months, he had to witness the rift between his parents' marriage, a rift he was indirectly the cause of. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and told his father what had happened.

Lionel surmised that that was the starting step for the reconciliation.

He had many nicknames, the most prominent of which was 'lion': Lionel, the Lion of England, his sisters often teased him; they said he was as bold as one, and he couldn't disagree unfortunately. He knew he was rash and bold, prayed everyday he wouldn't cause a disaster. But when did things always go as planned?

He was fifteen when Anne Seymour came to court. She was beautiful, even in her slightly plain way, and learned, witty, and made butterflies fly in his stomach. Perhaps that was why he broke off his betrothal to marry her in secret.

His mother, obviously, asked him to annul to marriage, or risk snubbing Sweden, and he knew that'd happen, so he had set up safety measures – there were witnesses, documents and the bloodied sheets to show the truthfulness of the marriage, and another blessing was that she was quick with child. And they both knew his mother would never be able to annul the marriage after all that.

Still, he felt guilty at causing her the amount of political problems that he did with his stunt.

1558: the Year of Sorrow. After all, how could it be anything but for England, when their beloved queen was dead? His mother assured him it was not his fault, it was never his fault, but even he knew that he was the cause of her mother's two greatest headaches.

But there was one thing that he knew very well: there would be more than one Elisabeth in the family.

A/N: I'm back! So, tell me, how did you feel about this chapter? Anyway, fifteen chapters done, three to go; whoa. I mean, fifteen, guys, this is a big thing for me!

Next up: Isabella, who died before her time.

See you next time!

~ Arty

EDIT: 30/5/2021
So, I saw two people (guests) arguing in the review section; if you are currently reading this, I kindly ask you to resolve your problems in private messaging or anything else of that sort, and not n the review section.