Argh, sorry for the late update, guys... *hangs head in shame*. Teachers don't take fanfiction writing as an acceptable excuse for not doing homework, for some reason, so you know what that means.

On an entirely unrelated note, I just realised that chapters one and three are exactly the same length. They're both precisely 900 words. I KNOW RIGHT? O.o (*gets too excited about arbitrary numbers*)

It was a warm spring morning some three months after the coronation, and Arthur and Elizabeth were walking alone in the palace gardens. Breakfast had finished some thirty minutes ago and the courtiers were out in full strength, but the grounds were so large it was altogether possible to lose oneself among the bushes, trees and perfectly tended flowerbeds. The sun, although still not having risen to its full strength, cast rays of light across the grass and the pale blue sky was relatively cloudless. Perhaps summer would come early this year, mused Arthur. They would have to schedule more tournaments and outdoor parties to make the most of the good weather.

"Are you listening to me?" asked Elizabeth, snapping him out of mentally planning an entire season's worth of outdoor events.

"Of course," he said, trying to look offended. "Are you questioning my attentiveness to my own queen, Your Highness?"

"You are to address me as Elizabeth, as you well know," she sniffed. He only called her 'Your Highness' when he was being sarcastic and it had not taken her long to realise it. "As I was saying, I think that I will continue using the crucifix as a religious symbol. It is awfully Catholic, but perhaps keeping a few vestiges of the religion will appease its practitioners."

"We don't have to appease anyone," he said. "We do not need friends. We don't have to pander to the sensibilities of-"

"This country is Protestant, Arthur, but that does not mean it cannot be pragmatic," she sighed, as though explaining something very simple to someone very slow. She must have seen the indignant face he pulled, because she snapped, "Alright then, if Spain and France send their invading armies against us then I shall send you out to fight them alone, how about that? God knows I could use a laugh."

He glanced sideways at her. "Queenly duties less humorous than you bargained for, are they?"

"Well, I cannot say this court could not be improved with the presence of a jester or two," she said, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "I was led to believe courts had jesters."

"Jesters are not so great as people say," grinned Arthur. "There are much higher forms of entertainment than juggling and acrobatics."

"Oh? Such as?"

There was a pause as she waited for an answer, then, quick as a flash, he reached out and pulled her headdress down over her eyes before she could do more than gasp in surprise. He doubled over, laughing fit to burst, as she struggled to pull it back onto her head and spluttered curses entirely unbecoming of a queen. "You..." she started, her face turning almost as bright a red as her hair. "You..." But, apparently unable to find words, she settled instead for pouncing on him and pulling his own hat down to cover his face. Now it was her turn to laugh - it was both wild and uproarious yet strangely melodious, Arthur noted absently - as he cursed and tore the hat from his eyes. For a moment they were silent, staring at each other, teetering on the fulcrum that separated argument from mirth, before tipping over and laughing until their ribs felt fit to burst. She looked so much more beautiful when she let her guard down like this. Smiling and laughing with her red curls coming out of their pins and her headdress on at an angle, she somehow looked better than she did when her handmaidens had worked for hours on her appearance.

"Stability," gasped Elizabeth, attempting to compose herself and only half succeeding. "I was going to say... we need... stability."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Do we not have stability?"

"No, we do not. Not yet. We are still in a precarious position. My government is still falling into place, we have the question of religion, of course, and then there is the matter of my marriage."

"Oh," he said, not quite sure why this had taken him so off guard. Of course she had to marry. "Yes. Marriage. But... now? Why so soon?"

"Not necessarily soon," she said flippantly, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture, "but it must be considered. I must choose the right person. Surely you understand how important this is."

He did. Monarchs could generally marry whosoever they pleased - as Henry VIII had taken so much pleasure in demonstrating - but Elizabeth and, for that matter, Mary, were women. Queens, and queens regnant at that. Marrying could mean loss of political power, as Mary had proven when she played into the hands of Spain's King. Elizabeth had learnt from her sister's mistakes, but that, if anything, made choosing a potential husband even more difficult. But if she chose to forgo the matter completely, she would produce no legitimate heirs, and that would jeopardise her precious stability. Elizabeth's marital status was just as precariously placed as her country.

"Do you have anyone in mind?" asked Arthur.

"There are a few people overseas vying for my hand," she shrugged. "But I think I will not marry a foreigner. Too much potential for political problems. I shall try to marry within England if it proves at all possible."

"Well?"

She sighed. "There is someone. He would do nicely, I think. He is-"

They turned a corner and found themselves in front of the palace stables. Tall, clean and tended to by dozens of servants, the horses lucky enough to have the jobs of pulling royal carriages or serving as leisure mounts lived more opulently than most people in the country. The smell of hay and fresh leather was carried towards them on the wind along with the contented noises of horses well fed and exercised for the morning. Before Elizabeth could finish her sentence, they found themselves face to face with Lord Robert Dudley.

He sank into a low bow. "Your Highness."

"Robert," smiled Elizabeth. She extended her hand and he kissed it before rising, beaming broadly at both of them.

"And Sir Kirkland, a pleasure!"

"You'll forgive me, Lord Dudley, if I do not ask you to kiss me," deadpanned Arthur. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but something about the tall, smiling man in front of them irked him. He had never minded Dudley much before - perhaps not liked, but then there were not a lot of people that Arthur truly liked - but now there was something pinching at him just below the surface. Something that hadn't been there before.

"Droll as ever, I see," he said, as though he found Arthur's rudeness nothing short of amusing. "And how does this morning find the two of you?"

"Very well indeed," said Elizabeth. "Out for an early morning ride?"

"No, not today. I was just overseeing the care of the horses. Pray tell, Elizabeth, when was the last time you went riding?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "Not for far too long. I have been most busy."

"Say no more," laughed Dudley. "I can merely imagine. But perhaps you would bless me with your company on a ride through the grounds this coming afternoon? That is, of course, if matters do not call you elsewhere." His eyes never left Elizabeth's, and the offer was not extended to Arthur.

"I would enjoy that very much." She smiled coyly, then said, "Don't you have work to be attending to? I would hate to keep you with this mindless chatter."

"Mindless chatter with you is always the utmost pleasure," he grinned, bowing again. "But alas, you are right, as always. I shall leave you in peace. Until this afternoon!"

Arthur had never been happier to see anyone leave. As he and Elizabeth continued to walk the gardens, her talk of government and religion and foreign affairs drifting through his head without finding purchase, he wondered how he had ever tolerated the man. He was too tall, he smiled too much and he had a ridiculous little beard that ought to be taken to with scissors. Arthur found himself wishing he had the authority to order people sent to the Tower of London.

Elizabeth chatted on, unaware of his inattentiveness this time, as he made himself a silent note that Lord Robert Dudley was clearly not to be trusted.

He wondered how he had not realised it before.

Lord Robert Dudley was Elizabeth's childhood friend and, early in her reign, the chief contender for her hand in marriage. However, he was already married to Amy Robsart, so he couldn't marry the Queen until something was done about that. Amy was suffering from a 'malady in her left breast' which people now pretty much agree was cancer, so the whole court was holding its breath to see what happened when she died. I've always felt really sorry for Amy.

Anyway, please leave a review if you're liking it so far!