I'm afraid I'm dreadfully late to the Victoria fandom, but having read through almost all the English-language Vicbourne fics, I couldn't help but throw my two pence in. I hope, if anyone is still around to read this, they might take inspiration and write a better version than I have here achieved.

"Lord M," Queen Victoria greeted her Prime Minister. Lord Melbourne genuflected and laid a gentle kiss upon the Queen's outstretched knuckles.

"Your Majesty," he murmured, "You wished to see me?"

The Queen danced her way to her desk where several stacks of books surrounded a piece of paper. Lord Melbourne felt a tingle of unease in his core. Over the past several years he had become accustomed to the young ruler's many and varied moods. He could handle her better than any other: when she was fretful, he knew how to sooth, when she was sad, he knew how to cheer her, and when she was cross, he knew how to let the wind out of her sails before she launched fireships into the armada. When she was mischievous however…

He was only a man and that minx-like look on her face was far too tempting: the willpower that should be employed in reining her in instead was devoted to controlling himself.

"You are well aware, Lord M, that my education at Kensington left much to be desired," The Queen rested a hand on one of the books surrounding her.

"You have learned much since then, ma'am," he cautiously replied, even as he privately agreed.

"Indeed," her mouth twitched. "After our conversations about Elizabeth, I have sought to learn more about the medieval Kings and Queens. Dearest Lehzen focused more on the Stuarts and Hanoverians: she thought the Tudors and their predecessors quite uncivilized."

Oh, not this again. How many times must he blockade his heart?

"Where some of them are concerned, she may be right." He attempted to keep his tone light.

"Tell me, Lord M, what do you know about Edward IV?"

Edward IV… his mind drew a blank, "He was a Yorkist King, defeated Henry VI… Richard III supposedly killed his sons."

"He was the first Yorkist King," the Queen clasped her hands together, clearly enjoying the role reversal, "He was not much older than I was when he became King of England, and he was unwed."

There was an itch at the back of Lord Melbourne's head, some knowledge just out of reach. Stretching for it, he replied, "He had sons; he must have wed at some point."

The smile that the Queen had been suppressing broke across her face. "He did, when he was twenty-three. Do you know who he married?"

"A French Princess?" Something about the Earl of Warwick negotiating?

"No—that was who they wanted him to marry. But he fell in love."

"In love, ma'am?"

"With Elizabeth Woodville—well technically she was Elizabeth Grey then." His heart stuttered. The Queen bounced on her toes. "She was a widow, who had children, whose father was a mere knight. A commoner, not a royal."

"Ma'am," Lord Melbourne began without knowing where to end.

Her look softened, her vulnerabilities, so clearly displayed at Brocket Hall, emerged. "She was far lower ranking than you, Lord M. And he married her, and they had children, and despite the wicked Richard III, their daughter married Henry Tudor and ended the Wars of the Roses. They were happy."

"Your majesty, their situation was different," he scrambled.

"How? Because he was a man, and I am a woman? If not one but two Kings of England can marry their subjects, I don't see why I shouldn't."

"The Privy Council will never support it."

"We can follow in Edward and Elizabeth's footsteps again: they married first, then announced their marriage."

"We absolutely cannot do that." He would almost certainly be shot for treason. They might even draw and quarter him.

"I do not see why not. I do not need their consent to marry."

"Yes you…" Lord Melbourne stopped as he attempted to think of which law required it. "Surely there is something that requires the Privy Council's consent?"

The Queen picked up the top-most paper and read out, "That no descendant of the body of his late majesty King George the Second, male or female, (other than the issue of princesses who have married, or may hereafter marry, into foreign families) shall be capable of contracting matrimony without the previous consent of his Majesty, his heirs, or successors, signified under the great seal, and declared in council, (which consent, to preserve the memory thereof is hereby directed to be set out in the licence and register of marriage, and to be entered in the books of the privy council); and that every marriage, or matrimonial contract, of any such descendant, without such consent first had and obtained, shall be null and void, to all intents and purposes whatsoever."

Melbourne took it in, then held his hand out for the page. The queen gave it over.

He murmured the important bits, "No descendant… shall be capable of contracting matrimony without the previous consent of his Majesty, his heirs, or successors" –that meant Victoria— "signified under the great seal, and declared in council… You only need inform them." Lord Melbourne was stunned.

"The Regency Act only applied if I was not of age," Victoria added, "And you are not a Roman Catholic, correct?"

"Correct," he agreed, raking a hand through his hair. He may be lax in his attendance, but his enemies would be hard pressed to call him a papist.

"So, you see, there is absolutely no one who could prevent our marriage." The Queen clasped her hands together below her chin, beaming at him in celebration of her cleverness and joy at the future she insisted could happen.

Lord Melbourne inhaled. She was right, as far as he was now aware, that there was no legal impediment. And yet…

"I am not worthy of your affections, ma'am," his voice was quiet, "You have done a wonderful job of researching the legal issues, but even if such a marriage is legal, there are other reasons it cannot happen."

Betrayed blue eyes pierced him. "Do you not love me, Lord M?"

His own gaze turned infinitely soft and sad, "Of course I do, ma'am. But rulers' hearts were never meant to be the arbiter of their spouses."

"Nonsense," he half-expected her to stomp her foot. She came around the desk to stand before him.

"Ma'am, I am far too old for you and there is no guarantee that I can give you the strong and healthy heirs you need."

"You are a wise and experienced man who can guide me in ways a boy my own age could not. And I wish to be known as more than just a broodmare. You wouldn't treat me as such, would you, Lord M?"

"No, of course not." There was so much more to his lovely Queen than just her womb. Her sparkle, her kindness, her passion, her unrelenting stubbornness…

"I fear another husband would," her voice became small and afraid. "They would want to take as much of my power as they could while they made me have child after child, and that is if I survived childbirth in the first place," Victoria shivered and crossed her arms. He fought off the urge to draw her into his arms and comfort her.

"You are young and strong, and I have no doubt you will make it through childbirth to have a long and prosperous rule," Lord Melbourne took her hand and squeezed it. She clung, refusing to let go.

"Only if you are there to steer me," she insisted, stepping closer. There was little space between them. "You are the only man I trust to guide rather than control."

"You will lose me far too soon."

"I will lose you sooner if I wed another."

"There will be scandal," he started, but she cut him off.

"I do not care."

"They will bring up every detail of my past, real and imagined, every bit of dirt they can find, and God knows my past is far from pristine. Every political statement I have ever made would haunt us both. They will bring up every misstep they feel I have led you to as proof I cannot be trusted to influence you. They will not be satisfied by questioning my judgement, but they will go further and question yours." He could survive the attacks upon him, there was nothing they could say that had not been said before. But she had not his thick skin, nor his experience ignoring the gossip.

"There is nothing anyone can say about your past that would cause me to forsake you, and no matter what they say, we both know that my mistakes have been my own, often in direct contravention of your advice. And besides, did you not say my people would prefer an English marriage?" She arched a single, fine eyebrow.

"I believe I had your royal cousins in mind when I said such," Lord Melbourne replied dryly. "Ma'am, no one will ever forget that I was a Prime Minister, and a Whig at that. While I doubt Wellington or Peel would conscience a coup d'état, the Tories as a whole would come close to rebellion. You would likely have to take on a large number of Tory ladies to counteract my influence."

Her lips twisted in a moue of distaste, "A heavy sacrifice, but one I would make for you."

"Your Majesty—"

"Victoria. I never want to be anything but Victoria to you." She stepped even closer, her skirts brushing his leg even as she took his other hand as well, head tipping up to look at him.

"They could demand you abdicate. They could force a Regency. They could attempt to deny any children of ours your throne." He was distracted by her scent, the perfume of roses floating from her skin, mingling with the aroma of the orchids and gardenias in her hair.

"I shall not abdicate for their pleasure, and love is not madness," Victoria's eyes seized his and held them. "Besides, would they really rather have Uncle Cumberland as King? Or cousin George?"

"Well, you do have a point there, Ma'am," he considered. The King of Hanover had not made many friends.

"I have many good points, Lord M," Victoria's lips curled upwards, ever closer to his own, "Please say you are persuaded by them."

"I dare any man to be in my position and resist," he bridged the hair's gap between their lips.

Far better for him to be her Elizabeth than her Leicester.

Happy Coronation Day!