When Arthur Kirkland first saw Elizabeth Tudor - truly, properly saw her - she was being helped from a carriage on a cold spring morning of 1555. It was too early for anyone but the servants, cooks and chambermaids to be awake, but Arthur had asked them to rouse him specially to oversee her arrival. The sun was only just beginning to cast weak tendrils of light over the horizon as he dressed himself and hurried outside, refusing offers of breakfast. She would not truly arrive until she was presented to the court, of course, but he wished to be there when her carriage drew in to greet her properly. Formalities were all well and good, but he could not let a member of his own royal family come to court without wishing her welcome.

The truth was, Arthur would not go out of his way like this for just any royal. He had always been fond of Elizabeth. He had not had much chance to get to know her - she had left court as a young girl, deprived of her title of Princess and declared illegitimate. He was honestly curious to see how she had turned out. He had not properly spoken to her since before Queen Mary imprisoned her at Woodstock over a year ago, and then only briefly. He had expected her to be like her sister - just thinking Mary's name made his blood boil these days - but he had been pleasantly surprised. Elizabeth was intelligent with a sharp wit, a finely honed sense of sarcasm and was, all in all, very good company. He had got along well with her and was sad to see her go; indeed, he had tried his best to send her gifts to keep her spirits up during her imprisonment. This would be their first reunion since she was sent away, and he was keen to have it away from the prying eyes of royalty and courtiers.

Arthur sat up straight as the sound of carriage wheels on cobblestones met his ears. She was here. He watched the carriage as it drew into the courtyard, straining for a glimpse through the velvet curtains that obscured the windows. It drew to a halt and the driver leapt from his seat to open the doors and help Elizabeth out. Arthur got to his feet, ready to intercept her before servants could swarm her, and watched with some anticipation as she emerged from the carriage.

Elizabeth was almost as he remembered her. Her slender, elegantly built frame was accentuated by a travelling dress embroidered with threads of vibrant gold, the colour of which served to set off her long, strikingly red hair. She had large, deep brown eyes that surveyed the courtyard with interest, high cheekbones and a nose that was perhaps just a little too bold. Arthur remembered all of this, but somehow she was different to his memories. She was... older. More mature. Quite frankly, beautiful, and every bit the princess she was meant not to be.

"Lady Elizabeth," he smiled, striding across the couryard to where she stood. "Welcome! I trust you had a pleasant journey?"

"Pleasant enough," she said, arranging her skirts and looking around as though wondering where the usual swarms of servants were. "You're up early, Sir Kirkland."

"I wanted to welcome you to court," he admitted.

"That's very kind of you," she said, and smiled at him. "What news of Mary?"

"Her pregnancy is progressing normally thus far. If she gives birth to a healthy son, he will become heir apparent. If not..."

She finished his sentence for him. "I will."

"You will." There was a short silence. Both of them already knew this, had already had plenty of time to come to terms with it, but it was still almost unbelievable to hear it said, to feel it hanging almost tangibly in the cold morning air between them. Arthur would never say it out loud lest he was accused of treason - treason against himself, as it were, though he doubted the Queen would see the irony - but he would much prefer Elizabeth take the throne than a child too young to rule and a direct descendent of the woman who had burned so many of his people alive with not so much as a mark on her conscience. "I will call the servants," he said, breaking the period of reflection. "You must be tired. They have been spending hours readying your bedchambers for your arrival. They've been very excited; you mustn't keep them waiting."

He clapped his hands and the official welcoming party hurried out into the courtyard, perfectly turned out for the occasion. Elizabeth laughed and allowed herself to be led away. It must've been nice for her, he thought as he watched her go, to suddenly be introduced back to the luxuries of court. Woodstock had not been a prison in the traditional sense - she had had full access to fine meals and clothes and all her needs were cared for - but it was a far cry from all the hospitality the English monarchy could offer.

As the carriage was led out of the courtyard, Arthur turned and headed back towards the palace. There was much to be arranged before Elizabeth was presented to the court, and he intended to make sure everything went perfectly for her.