Once again, many thanks to my dear beta NoPondInTheForest! The song "Sigh No More Ladies" appears in Patrick Doyle's score for Kenneth Branagh's version of Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing", and "Vilja's Song" is a beautiful aria composed by Franz Lehár for his opera "The Merry Widow".


The Tenth Doctor didn't remember the wedding ceremony that had turned him into King Consort of England, nor how a past and a future self had been his best men, or how Clara had been teasingly jumping and throwing rose petals at the happy couple. What he did remember was everything that had happened before their arrival – namely, the time he had spent trying to catch the Zygons whose ship had crashed near Nonsuch Palace, the Queen's favourite residence, and the time he had spent wooing what he had believed to be a Zygon version of Queen Elizabeth I, but turned out to be the real thing.

That mistake, however, was proving quite priceless at present, since some of the details she had given him about her public and private affairs in the short time they had spent together had just helped the team draw a plan. If her revenge on the Doctor had been boiling inside her for nearly forty years, whatever Queen Elizabeth I had in store for him would no doubt be something colossal – and monarchs, the Doctors knew, never kept colossal events to themselves, especially not in those days, and especially not if such events gave them the opportunity to shine bright in front of their people, their adversaries, and their allies. Whatever it was that the Queen was planning, she'd make sure she had all eyes on her. But to put on a colossal show, she'd need a large audience – so she'd probably invite all her most loyal friends, and courtiers, and foreign ambassadors, to attend on the big day. However, in all probability, there would also be celebrations and entertainment at court before that day arrived, and a party as numerous as the one they were counting on by then could only be accommodated in Whitehall Palace, the largest of Tudor royal palaces. And with over a thousand people being lodged at court, where would the Queen rather be than making a splash?

To Whitehall Palace they went, therefore, and the walk to its vicinity was extremely long and cold, as well as a bit wet. Fortunately, Jack was being protected from the inclement weather by the several layers of fabric that made up his costume, and, before leaving the TARDIS, the Doctors and Clara had donned wine red tunics that had once belonged to the Headless Monks. Even so, they had agreed that it would be advisable to remain unseen whenever possible, given the nature of their undertaking and the risks they would unquestionably have to avoid. Hence, the three had made the decision of finding shelter somewhere in the intricate network of tunnels connecting Whitehall Palace and Westminster Abbey – because yes, of course there were always underground tunnels connecting palaces with abbeys or churches or cathedrals, the Doctors had claimed, and no, they didn't really have to do that much drilling when they started to build railways for the London Underground in the nineteenth century.

Before venturing into those clandestine passages, however, they had to help Jack get on track at court, so the three of them walked to St. James's Park with him and were presently hiding there among the bushes. Clara had been feeling exhausted long before they finally sat down on that particular spot in the park, and the soothing lute music that Jack wouldn't stop playing, even if really softly, had undoubtedly had the ultimate hypnotic effect on her and helped her go to sleep.

When the clock at Westminster Abbey struck six, Clara opened her eyes slightly and yawned but continued to sleep, letting her head rest on her Doctor's shoulder and her hand on his lap. Putting a protective arm around her and not wanting to disturb her sleep, the Eleventh Doctor had been trying really hard to do something he had never been any good at – staying put. And so far, he had succeeded for two hours, no less! Breathing obviously could not be helped, but as there was nothing for them to do except wait – and oh how he hated that –, not moving was fairly easy, and when engaged in conversation with Jack or the other Doctor, the three of them would speak in undertones.

"She's really pretty," Jack whispered, after having spent a while staring at Clara. "I never thought I'd live to see the day you'd like brunettes, Doctor," he added, his eyes fixed on the Eleventh Doctor.

"Shut up!" he replied, trying not to raise his voice more than strictly necessary. "And leave her alone from now on, will you?"

"Fair enough!" Jack answered. "Something's telling me that I should only focus on the task of seducing the Virgin Queen. Not that I want to put my capabilities into question, Doctors, but how difficult do you think it will be?"

"Oh, you'll be surprised," muttered the Tenth Doctor, who every now and then would jump up, crouch down and crane his neck to scrutinize the large area sprawling between them and Whitehall Palace. "It must be about twenty past six now. The sun has already risen, which means she can be here any minute."

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Doc?"

"Not at all, Jack, no. But I hope it will turn out to be. She usually takes a walk in St. James's Park first thing every morning, alone and incognito, when she's staying in Whitehall Palace. Of course, now it will have been almost forty years since she told me that, but that's the kind of habit one never changes, don't you reckon?"

"Not even when one is almost seventy and perhaps might not walk as easily as they did when they were thirty?" asked the Eleventh Doctor.

"Then raise the alarm as soon as you spot an old lady wearing a crown and carrying a walking stick," replied the Tenth Doctor. "I honestly don't know! But, as it happens, here we are, this is the only plan that we have so far and there's nothing else we can do at the moment, so let's give it a chance, shall we? Then, if it doesn't work, we'll see what else w…"

"Doctor," interrupted Jack, who suddenly stopped playing. "Could that be her?"

The Doctor turned round, still crouching down behind one of the bushes. Looking in the direction of Whitehall Palace, they all could see a tall figure walking slowly in the distance.

"Oh, look at that…" said an amazed Tenth Doctor. "Someone's decided to put on a plain long black hooded cloak this morning. Simple kind of garment which will definitely not attract people's attention… So that leaves us with two possible scenarios. Scenario number one – whoever is wearing that cloak could be just an ordinary human, and…"

"Oh well done, Doc!" teased Jack. "I'd forgotten you were such a genius!"

"…and," continued the Doctor, his tone grouchy, "scenario number two – they're just trying to avoid being seen or recognized just as much as we are. Which means, Captain, that might very well be her, oh yes."

"Then I'm afraid there's only one way to find out," added Jack. He tried to stand up but was immediately stopped by the Eleventh Doctor, who, after two hours of motherly attention and carefulness, had carelessly let Clara's head fall to the ground all of a sudden, just so that he would be able to grab Jack's arm before he went away. Once he managed to do so, he put his hand on Jack's shoulder and started to speak, not hearing Clara's loud "Ouch!" right behind him.

"You have to be very careful, Jack," he told him. "I know it's going to be really hard for you to do this, but please try and don't draw too much attention to yourself, okay? And especially when Robert Cecil is around. In fact, you'll need to be extra careful when he's around. That man's as cunning as a fox, just like his father was. But if someone's likely to know absolutely everything about the Queen's intimate affairs, it's definitely him, so you have to try and be around him. Just don't get too close."

"Alright Doc! Robert Cecil – not just a VIP, but the very top of my list. Anyone else whose name I should bear in mind?" asked Captain Jack, who had just started to play his lute again.

"Not really, no. Robert Dudley and William Cecil have been dead for years now. The Earl of Essex is no longer the Queen's favourite, neither is the Earl of Oxford, and Sir Walter Raleigh will probably be in America right now, so none of them can help us."

"Whoever the person in the black cloak is, Jack," interrupted the Tenth Doctor, "they're getting closer… Oi!" he suddenly cried with a grimace of frustration. "Wait a minute! What are you doing? What on earth do you think you're playing?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm playing 'Greensleeves', Doctor."

"That's exactly what I meant!" the Tenth Doctor replied, his anger quite visible by now. "And how can you be playing that?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Well, for starters, if that person over there turns out to be a woman, just an ordinary woman, she might feel she's being offended! The colour green has some politically incorrect connotations these days. Want me to expand on that?"

"Don't think it's necessary, no," answered Jack, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

"However," went on the Tenth Doctor, "if that person turns out to be the Queen, things will be getting much worse. It is strongly believed, even in the twenty-first century, that this song was actually written and dedicated by her father, Henry VIII, to the woman he was planning to marry at the time. You want to know who that woman was? Well, for the record, her name was Anne Boleyn and she happens to be Elizabeth's mother!"

The look on Jack's face made it absolutely clear that he had honestly never heard any of that before, and if he had kept playing that tune only to tease the Doctor while he had been doing all the explaining, he brusquely stopped as soon as the name of Anne Boleyn was spoken. He remained silently looking at the Time Lord and blinking for a short while as his brain searched for another medieval song he could play, and the moment he found one, it would later seem to him that his fingers had started to play it of their own accord.

He couldn't have imagined how inappropriate his new choice of song would also turn out to be.

"Sorry Jack," said the Eleventh Doctor this time, "but actually, that one is…"

"Not again related to Anne Boleyn, I hope…"

"I'm afraid it is, yes," the Doctor told him, nodding softly and repeatedly. "And to make things slightly worse, it's about her execution."

"But it's a song about a knight!" said a skeptical Jack.

"Well, it's hardly my fault if the lyrics are confusing, is it?" hesitantly said the Doctor with the intention of excusing himself. "You should blame twentieth-century scholars for always coming up with a wide variety of interpretations for everything! Or is it my fault that there's a falcon in the song?"

"Seriously, Jack, do you really think this is the right time or the right place for music?" observed the Tenth Doctor.

"I do!" he replied, scowling. "I'm sorry if you disagree, Doctor, but this is the perfect time and the perfect place. Music happens to be my plan," Jack answered. "Wait and see! However, if you don't trust me, go and hide in those tunnels of yours and don't worry about me."

"Too late for that…," added the Tenth Doctor, who had suddenly got into a panic. "I'm starting to worry about you more than I actually thought I would. I mean… Look at you! No offence, Jack, but… What are the Queen's assets again? Let me think… Just hundreds of thousands of loyal subjects and… Oh, yes! An army! Did I mention that? But hey! What's all that compared to our impressive secret weapon – a troubadour?!"

"I'm so much more than that, Doctor, and you know it," answered Jack, not sounding offended in the least, and giving him one of his usual smiles. "Want to know my assets? First of all, there's my irresistible charms and my angelic voice, but then, my very own secret weapon, or at least one of them, is my extensive knowledge of the works of William Shakespeare."

"Be careful not to quote the ones he hasn't written yet!" shouted the Eleventh Doctor, darting his eyes towards his previous self, while Jack ran as fast as he could, squatting, until he reached some nearby trees and sat down in front of one of them, not far from where the Doctors and Clara were hiding. As soon as he was sitting properly again, he resumed his lute playing as he kept looking out of the corner of his eye, hoping to see what the exact location of the stranger in the black cloak was. Some towering trees standing right opposite blocked his view of the area of the park that extended from right behind them up to the walls of Whitehall Palace, but in spite of the inconvenience, he kept playing.

A soft breeze had just started to blow when he finally managed to spot the stranger in the cloak, who surprisingly enough was much nearer than he had expected.

And then, it happened. A sudden gust of wind made the hood of the stranger's cloak fall on their back, revealing the face of an old woman whose scarce grey hair was loose, uncombed and dishevelled. It took her less than a second to reach her hood with her gloved hands and cover her head again.

Well, the stranger in the black cloak was definitely an old woman, that much he knew now, but still there was no way to make certain whether such woman might be the Queen, and although the Doctors were still hiding among the bushes, it was impossible to ask them for confirmation without the stranger noticing, so he thought it best not to waste any more of their time and do the only thing he could possibly do in his current situation.

And so, he started to sing.


Sigh no more, ladies,

Sigh no more

Men were deceivers ever

One foot in sea and one on shore,

To one thing constant, never…

The melody was not familiar, but she could have sworn she had already heard those lyrics before... Not too long ago in fact, maybe a year or two at the most. Those verses, however, had remained with her since then, and the voice of the person who sang them back then had not been half as enchanting.

She looked around but there was no one to be seen. However, she could easily determine where such admirable voice was coming from, and decided to set off in that direction.


By now, Clara was fully awake. Neither she nor the Doctors dared raise their heads up above the bushes, but they were all watching the scene from behind them, just by looking through the branches.

All of their hearts started to beat faster as they saw the stranger's hood fall on her shoulders because of an unexpected puff of wind. The long and immaculate red curls of the woman they all had once known were gone, but her features, forty years later, were still unmistakably recognisable.

And yet, she looked quite different. Before their earlier visit to the Elizabethan era, Clara had basically read facts about her in history books and perhaps seen a film or two, whereas the Doctors' knowledge of her personal history sprang either from other people's accounts, including her ancestors, her contemporaries, and her successors. Despite their different sources, they all had a sound knowledge of her life's most crucial moments, of who her dearest friends and her fiercest enemies had been, of the many wars that she had won, and of all the personal battles she had lost even since her earliest childhood. Like her father or her half-sister, Mary Tudor – who would for centuries to come be remembered as Bloody Mary –, Elizabeth had never been the personification of kindness, but whether her hardened features were just the natural cause of the passage of time or whether they had been inflicted on her by herself of by others, the truth remained that her countenance had certainly toughened.

And yet, as she suddenly heard Jack singing, the startled Queen came to a halt to look around, obviously hoping to see someone or find something. Then, they all witnessed how her stiffened features gave way to an expression of awe, her eyes and mouth slowly opening wide in admiration, and then how, after taking a moment to determine where that song was coming from, she started to make her way to the line of lofty trees behind which Jack was sitting, just a few metres away from where they were hiding.


The old woman in black was slowly approaching.

Jack managed to see the cheerful nodding faces of the two Doctors, who were looking straight at him from behind the branches of the bushes now – not without breaking one or two – and the entertained face of Clara, who was looking at them in turn.

And thus came the confirmation of the mystery woman's identity.

He closed his eyes, convinced that, in no time at all, the stranger would be there right next to him, and put all his senses in singing as delicately and as alluringly as he possibly could.

Then sigh not so but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into hey, nonny nonny…

"Young man!" exclaimed the excited old woman who was hastily walking towards him. "Those, I daresay, would be Master Shakespeare's words, would they not?"

Bingo!

"Oh… Good morning, my sweetest madam!" Jack replied, giving her the most tempting and mischievous smile she had ever seen. "Indeed they are, my lady, as I am in awe of Master Shakespeare's magnificent plays…" He paused for a moment, the expression on his face turning from unhidden lust to fake distress. "Oh madam, I'm so sorry! Indeed it is too early in the morning to be singing as loudly as I was. Oh, my dear madam… I hope I have not disturbed you! It would most definitely kill me to know that I have!"

His flamboyance had just made the three people in their concealed audience frown. The way his intonation kept going up and down and his voice was completely out of tune made them all hesitate for a second. What was he trying to do? Seduce the Queen or shoo her away?

"Oh, not at all, young man! I was just taking my early morning walk when I unexpectedly heard your song and decided to take a closer look. I had never expected, however, to find that the singer himself would be as glorious as his song."

"Do we really need to hear this?" protested the Eleventh Doctor.

"You're making me blush, madam. But please," Jack said, standing up and offering his hand to her, who came closer to take it, "let me introduce myself. I am Lord Boeshane, of the Boeshane Peninsula."

Since the woman standing right before him was trying to conceal her own identity, he thought it best not to finish that line the way he always did.

Lord Boeshane took a bow, still holding her hand. As he did so, he noticed how the exquisite white velvet of her glove contrasted with the black worn-out wool of her cloak.

"The Boeshane Peninsula? And where exactly is that place, young man? I have not heard of it before. Does it belong to the Spanish Empire? King Phillip must be very proud…"

Her tone had become noticeably dark when she mentioned King Phillip and the Spanish Empire – Spain had been, after all, her greatest enemy since she had reached the throne, but now that they were standing relatively close to each other and Jack had already risen after giving his bow, he noticed another seriously dark thing about her.

Her teeth.

In the excitement of his reunion not only with his worshipped Doctor, but also with a future version of the Doctor himself, Captain Jack Harkness had completely forgotten what would endure to be one of Queen Elizabeth I's eternal physical traits as an old lady – her rotten teeth. But surely there had to be something he could do about that, right?

Because, if he was really meant to seduce her, what would happen when she tried to kiss him?

"Young man? Are you unwell?"

"Yes!" he said, jittery, and still lost in his thoughts, before coming back to reality. "I mean… No, madam! I'm sorry… I just… I saw your twinkling ivory black eyes looking straight at mine just now and… Wow! I have never seen two stars shining any brighter!"

Luckily for him, he couldn't hear the giggles of the three people who were still spying on them from behind the bushes.

"Oh, young man," replied the Queen, "you flatter me! I am old enough to be your grandmother!"

"My poor dear grandmother never looked as beautiful as the lady standing right now before me, so I respectfully disagree, madam. But even if that were the case, your eyes are most definitely refusing to tell me your age."

Her teeth did, though.

"Let us sit down, shall well?" the Queen suggested. "I would most love to have the pleasure of hearing you sing and play some more before I have to go."

"The pleasure will be all mine, madam. But I do hope you won't have to leave shortly!"

Jack took her hand again and helped her sit down before he did so himself, right next to her.

The Queen could have let her back rest on the trunk of the tree behind her, but she preferred to entwine her arm in Jack's and let her head rest on his shoulder.

"So where is your home, Lord Boeshane? You did not tell me before."

Oh no, this couldn't be happening – now her breath!

"The Boeshane Peninsula is a far away place, madam, where not even the angels take the trouble to tread, except when they want to hear me sing," he replied, winking at her. "And what is your name, my sweet beautiful lady?"

"May I enquire, why would such a graceful young man want to know the name of a little old lady like me?"

"Your eyes still won't betray your age, madam, but they are betraying many other things about you. They're telling me, for instance, what a remarkably intelligent woman you are. And I couldn't be any luckier, as there's nothing I like best than a clever woman. Can't you already guess why I want to know your name?"

At this particular point, the Doctors and Clara were feeling as if they were at the theatre watching an incredibly terrible play starring the worst stage actor ever.

The Queen shook her head, a naughty smile on her face.

"I want to know your name so that I can sing you a song."

Now Clara and the Doctors were expecting the Queen to take the lute from Jack's hands, throw it as far as she could, and jump on him without hesitation, but she did not such thing. Instead, her arm let go of Jack's and dropped gently behind his back.

"My name is of no consequence at all, my Lord. I am just a servant! And, after all, as our dear Master Shakespeare would say, what's in a name?"

Her long hand was now dangerously stroking Jack's lower back.

"And Master Shakespeare is never wrong, is he? Well, my dear madam, to prove him right, I'll call you by a name I'll be choosing for you myself. I shall call you… Vilja," he concluded, with one of his most captivating smiles.

"Vilja, my Lord?"

"Vilja indeed, madam. Are you familiar with her legend?"

"Not at all, sir, I must say."

"Then allow me to sing it for you."

Jack jumped up with his lute in his hand, freeing himself from the recklessly caressing hand of the Queen as well as from her bad breath, and started to sing once more.

There was once a Vilja,

A witch of the wood…

"What!?" exclaimed the Queen in a high-pitched voice, but Jack was pretending to be so engrossed in his song that he also pretended he hadn't noticed.

A hunter beheld her alone

as she stood…

"A witch?" said the Queen as she up from her seat and stripped the lute off Jack's hands. This time she raised her voice quite enough for Lord Boeshane to notice that she had. "Did you just call me a witch, sir?"

"Yes, madam, I called you a witch," replied a grinning Jack. "I could have called you a fairy or a sprite, but such words wouldn't have done you any justice, for bewitched is how I am feeling in your presence."

"Seriously, is he always like this?" asked an astonished Clara.

"He can be much worse," replied the Tenth Doctor.

Vilja, oh Vilja,

The witch of the wood,

Would I not die for you dear,

If I could?

As they remained silent while Jack kept singing 'Vilja Song' to the Queen, the tension in the Tenth Doctor's face was becoming quite obvious.

"It's going to be okay, Doctor," said Clara, in attempt to ease the situation.

"I know, I know. It's just that for a moment I was thinking about the musical paradoxes we might be creating here. This is the Renaissance and he's singing an aria written in the twentieth century..."

"Don't be ridiculous!" replied the Eleventh Doctor. "Musical paradoxes are nothing compared to literary paradoxes! Think about the first time you were here… Can't you remember all the lines you stole from Shakespeare which later Shakespeare stole from you? If there were no consequences then I don't think there'll be any consequences now. And besides, there's no denying Jack's choice of songs is being quite clever."

A stunned Clara only wanted to know more after listening to everything the Doctor had just said – Shakespeare? Stealing lines from the Tenth Doctor? That was just too good to be true! But of course, there would be plenty of time for her to ask all those questions later. For the time being, preventing another quarrel between the two Doctors again was once more her top priority.

"Please, don't start it all over again, will you?"

"Okay, okay," said the Tenth Doctor, surrendering. "Let's think about our next move. Where's the access to those tunnels? I only know how to get to them from inside Westminster Abbey."

"So do I," replied the Eleventh Doctor.

"Oh," muttered the Tenth Doctor. "So you don't know of any other entrance then? Brilliant! Then let's get there right now while the streets are still deserted."

"I still think we should mingle with the locals,' added Clara, 'just for a while, maybe just this morning, and listen to their stories, you know, the talk of the town? If anything strange has been going on – and let's face it, anything that's got to do with you, with any of you, is definitely going to be a bit awkward – someone must surely have noticed."

"Well, once again, I think she has a point," said the Tenth Doctor to the Eleventh.

"So do I. But remember, we don't interfere. We will still be hiding in plain tunics. We just observe and listen. And only when we see something that will unmistakably lead us somewhere, do we actually speak to someone else. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir Doctor of TARDIS," joked Clara. "When did you receive a knighthood anyway, and who in their right mind would give you one?"

"Oh! That was Queen Victoria. Incredible woman! You should've seen her running away from a werewolf!" he answered, looking at the Tenth Doctor, who was now looking down, eyes instantaneously saddened, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. "That was a long time ago," he then added, in a more serious tone. "And then, just after she gave me the knighthood, she banished me from her kingdom. Can you believe that?"

"She did… What?" Clara asked him, trying to repress a laugh. "What's it with you and the queens of England anyway? Is there just a single one you haven't irritated at least once in her life?"

"Liz Ten, probably," replied the Eleventh Doctor after giving her question some thought. "I think she truly liked me!"

"Oh, really?" asked the Tenth Doctor, now beaming. "Liz Ten? That's brilliant! I've never met Liz Ten. Heard about her, though. Lots of times! There's also Queen Elizabeth II, so that makes two Queens of England who like us. And by the way, Clara, did you know the blood type of all of the royal family is A positive?"

"Oh!" exclaimed the Eleventh Doctor in an excited mood. "And did you know they're all werewolves too?"

"Okay, okay… So do all the queens and kings in the recorded history of England know about you?"

"Ever since Queen Victoria, I think so," replied the Tenth Doctor.

"Probably since Queen Bess here, believe me," added the Eleventh, pointing with his thumb to the bush right behind him.

"Don't mention Queen Bess in my presence again until I am forced to get back to her, I beg you. Why the hell didn't you tell me!?"

Wrapped up in their conversation as they had been, they hadn't noticed that the person who had just complained had joined them a few seconds before.

"Why didn't we tell you what exactly, Jack?" asked the Tenth Doctor.

"Where exactly should I start? Let me see. What about her teeth? Or maybe… Her bad breath? I was expecting to find an old woman who would still retain some of that goddess quality of a young Cate Blanchett… But what did I find?"

"What I don't understand is," interrupted the Tenth Doctor, "since when has that been a problem for Captain-Jack-Harkness-and-who-are-you, huh?"

"Of course it's a problem, Doctor! I may not have a lot of prejudices as far as 'love' is concerned, but I do have standards!"

"Standards? You?! And those standards of course would of course be…?"

"Well, I guess... People wearing gas masks, Slitheen, Daleks…"

"Oh, right! And you mean, of course, as long as they're not on your side." As the Tenth Doctor spoke, Clara managed to refrain herself from shrieking with laughter and with no little difficulty. "Come on, Jack! Standards? You? Ha! You've even flirted with robots! Some robots can indeed be beautiful little creatures, I'll grant you that, but flirting with them..."

"Says the man who once kissed a Zygoon," the Eleventh Doctor cut in.

"And thank goodness, I can't remember doing it," added the Tenth Doctor, looking daggers at him.

It was once more Clara's task to redirect the conversation.

"Doctors! We're missing the point here again. Captain, what's happened? Where's the Queen gone?"