I wasn't going to update this fast, but since this is so popular, I thought I'd be nice and repay you all with another chapter! Enjoy!

Chapter 2

"Kat! Please don't dismiss Anne! Just get rid of any one of my maids! I'll beg Father's forgiveness; I promise. Just don't dismiss Anne! Please! I'm begging you!"

I was practically in tears as I faced my governess, pleading with her to reconsider her decision to dismiss Anne Boleyn from my household.

When Father had first uttered his order for my favourite maid to be dismissed, I had expected Kat to send away one of my other maids and tell my father that she had sent away my favourite even if she hadn't. In fact, I had already been composing my speech of apology in my head, preparing to act the penitent daughter to such an extent that Father believed I had learnt my lesson, and learnt it well.

However, the realisation that my governess Katherine Ashley, or Kat, as my sister and I called her, actually intended to follow Father's orders to the extent that she would force Anne to leave my household, had shocked me to the core, shaken me so badly that all I could do was stare at Kat with tears of rage in my eyes, willing her to cede to me on this.

Kat stepped forward and laid her hand on my arm.

"I would, Elizabeth. If I could, I would. But the thing is, you know I'm not the only one who knows that you favour Anne. Everyone in your household knows that you favour her. If I was to get rid of another girl, say, Mary Norris, and she complained to her father, then we'd all be in trouble. You know how close her father is to yours. The King would get to hear of it, Princess and he'd know we'd deceived him. I'm sorry Princess, but there's nothing we can do. Anne Boleyn has to go."

"It's not fair! She doesn't deserve to be dismissed in disgrace!" I almost shouted. Glancing at the closed door of my bedchamber, Kat, who I had pushed away in my anger, came forward again and put her arms around me.

"No. She doesn't. But life's not fair, Elizabeth. You of all people should know that."

That did it. My self-control deserted me, and I broke down in Kat's arms, weeping with rage, wounded pride and frustration. Kat held me while I sobbed, rubbing my back gently as though I was but a child.

When I was finally somewhat more sedate, she released me, giving me a last reassuring smile as I went out into the sitting room that I shared with Blanche.

Trying not to allow anyone to see how I had been crying, I seated myself in the window seat with my lute in my hand. Music always calmed me down. With that in mind, I began to play, play a song my mother had taught me and that I was now teaching Blanche.

As I played I sang

"And she shall bring the birds in spring

And dance among the flowers

In summers heat her kisses sweet

They fall from leafy bowers"

Getting up from the desk in the corner, where she had been completing a Latin translation under the watchful eye of her governess Lady Margaret Bryan, Blanche came to sit beside me, carrying her own lute. She sat beside me and tried to copy my fingers' swift movement on the strings, with little success. Being five years younger, she simply wasn't up to my standard yet. Listening to her valiant efforts dispelled the last of my melancholy thoughts. I laughed and laid down my own lute to curve my hand around hers.

"No, Blanche. Not like that. Like this, look." I guided my sister's hand through the notes of the song once and then twice, until she could just about play it on her own.

"That's it! Good. Good."

Blanche giggled and raised her voice to blend with mine as I began to sing the song again. We smiled lovingly at each other, the sweet music and the simple words bridging a gap between us that could never normally be bridged – the gap of five years in age, the gap that meant, no matter how much I wanted to, I could never quite treat Blanche as an equal, the gap that we never spoke about, never acknowledged, because we longed to, nay, needed to be able to rely on each other utterly, no matter what, just as we always had, especially in the three years since our beloved mother had died.

The tender moment between us was shattered as the herald by my door coughed and announced "His Grace Lord Edward FitzTudor, Duke of Richmond and Somerset."

I could feel Blanche stiffen where I had my arm around her as our ten year old half-brother entered the room with a couple of his companions, strutting in as if he owned half the palace, and inclined our head stiffly to us.

"Sister Elizabeth. Blanche."

"Brother Edward." I greeted him coldly as I disengaged myself from Blanche and rose to my feet. If it had been any other boy, I wouldn't have acknowledged him until he had bowed to me properly, but as my father had ruled that there was to be no need for ceremony between us three, due to our supposedly young ages, (despite the fact that I was of marriageable age), I knew that I wouldn't get more than a cursory incline of the head from my half-brother, so I merely asked "To what do we owe the honour?"

"I thought to look in and see how you did, Sister, now that you have displeased our royal father to such an extent that he orders you to be kept to your rooms." Edward answered haughtily.

His manner set my teeth on edge. Did he really have to be so insufferable? I supposed it wasn't his fault that our father favoured him because of his gender, but the way he let it go to his head and spoke to me almost as we were equals irritated me beyond compare. I answered him shortly, contempt masked beneath a veneer of icy politeness.

"I see. Well, as you can see, we keep ourselves occupied, so if there is nothing else -" I glanced pointedly at the door, but Edward, pretending he did not see where my gaze was leading, threw himself casually down in the best armchair by the fire, gesturing for his companions to come and join him there, which they did, though they at least had the courtesy to greet me and my sister with swift bows and our rightful titles of "Your Highness" as they entered. One of them, Edward Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk's fourteen year old heir by his second wife Catherine Willoughby, even went so far as to drop to one knee before me and kiss my hand, greeting me as "My Lady Princess".

I smiled down at his handsome dark head, and put out a hand to help him up as I told him "You may rise, Lord Edward."

As he got to his feet, Edward's eyes met mine and, for one delicious moment, it seemed as though no-one else in the world existed, that it was just the two of us.

My heart was thudding beneath my rich gown and it only sped up when Edward Brandon flashed me a furtive crooked smile before we turned to join my half-brother by the fire. Edward pulled out my chair for me, thankfully making it seem more natural for me to twist in my seat and thank him with a gay laugh.

Then the awkward silence descended once more until I eventually called upon Blanche to entertain us by playing her lute.

Sadly, she was so pleased with her accomplishment of having composed her own piece of music – Anne had helped her do it in honour of my birthday the previous September – that she played it even though it was about a Princess who, though she grew up forever overshadowed by other members of her family, eventually became the most triumphant Queen in Christendom. On the day, I had been deeply touched that my little sister would go to so much trouble for me, but as I had feared, to my brother Edward, the implication was clear; Blanche did not view him as the next King. Rather, she supported me in my right to become England's first ever Queen Regnant after our father's death. All of a sudden, Edward's temper snapped and he lashed out at my sister, snarling "You think to become Queen, do you, Blanche?"

Blanche flinched at his tone, yet answered him steadily.

"I do not seek to become Queen, Edward. Why would I? After all, I have an older sister. However, why Elizabeth not succeed our father?"

"Because she is a girl. And your mother was an adulteress and a traitor besides."

"Oh, and you are really so much more suitable to take England's throne, are you, my Lord FitzTudor?" I retorted, leaping in to save Blanche before she had to come up with a suitably cutting response. Wordplay wasn't one of her strengths.

"Remind me, who was your mother again? Oh yes, the Lady Jane Seymour. Our father's harlot."

"My mother was no harlot!" Edward was on his feet now; I really had made him angry.

"She loved my father and he loved her. Tell me, Elizabeth, where's the shame in a woman giving herself to the man she loves?"

"There is none, unless said man happens to be married. Then the woman is a common slut, a whore, fit for nowhere but a brothel, never mind the Queen's ladies!"

"Your mother was unworthy of being Father's Queen! She had another man's children, for God's sake! Father was right to execute her, and right to want to marry my mother. If my mother had lived to be crowned then there would never have been a finer, nobler, gentler Queen to have sat on England's throne!"

"Noble? Gentle? Don't make me laugh!" I sneered, taking a great delight in watching my younger brother's face as I slandered his mother, Jane Seymour. He was torn between horror, shock and fury. Sensing I had the upper hand, I drove my point home.

"If your mother Jane really was as noble and gentle as you say she was, then surely she wouldn't have minded Blanche and I appearing with our father on public occasions? After all, what harm could two sweet little girls have done to her position? But no. As I remember it, she was too busy championing the cause of the misbegotten Lady Mary, our father's first mistake, to remember that there were two girls at Hatfield who'd just been rendered motherless through their own father's cruelty. She never once spared a thought for Blanche and I and I'll tell you why; it was because she was a vile ambitious snake whose only thought was to ensconce her son in his father's heart and in the hearts of the people. She didn't want us challenging your position and that's all there was to it."

"I'll be King. Father's going to make it so." Edward snapped. "I'll be King, Sister, and when I am, I'll never ever receive you at my Court, either of you."

"Father promised you that three years ago, brother." I rejoined, layering my voice with contempt as I addressed him as brother, as he had done when he called me sister. "Why do you think he hasn't done it yet?" I continued, lowering my voice. Soft and determined was probably the best way to deliver the coming message.

"Because he can't. That's why. The people would never stand for it. They'd never accept you as heir to the throne above me. You are a bastard Duke, whilst I am a legitimate Princess of the House of Tudor. There's a world of difference between us, Edward. A world of difference. You cannot take my place in the Succession. Not with success."

Having said all I wanted to say, I stood my ground calmly. Edward gulped like a goldfish a couple of times, trying to think of a clever comeback, but then, to my immense satisfaction, he gave up and stormed to the door in a temper.

His companions, who had sat quietly whilst the two of us battled it out, rose to follow him, but Edward Brandon looked back at me swiftly. The sight of his head twisted to glance back suddenly set my brain whirring. Bells were ringing in my mind as I gazed in his direction. Maybe if I was clever, there was a way to obey Father, that was to say, to send Anne from my household, and yet still save my dearest cousin from disgrace! I would need Edward Brandon's help, and that of his mother, Lady Catherine Brooke, Duchess of Suffolk, but in that moment, I knew it would work. I could trust Edward to do his best for me, as he had done ever since he had been placed in my half-brother's household, keeping me informed of any developments there, no matter what said developments were, so I could trust him to help me make this work.

"Lord Edward? Would you stay behind a moment, please? I wish to speak to you privately."

"Of course, Your Highness" Edward Brandon bowed his head slightly, falling back from the group of my half-brother's companions and turning back to face me, shutting the heavy oak door as he did so. Meanwhile, I dismissed my ladies with a glance over my shoulder and a slight wave of my hand. They filed out in silence, dipping curtsies as they passed me. Sensing what I did not say, Blanche rose to her feet and went with them, for which, though I had no right to order or even ask her to leave me, I was extremely grateful.

The next moment, all formality was dropped between us. I ran forward and flung my arms around him, holding him tight. "Edward!"

"Elizabeth!" He kissed me lightly on both cheeks; slipped an arm about my waist. The feel of his touch left me breathless with delight, and I shivered as I leaned into him and looked up trustingly. "I need your help."

"Anything for the Queen of my heart." Edward answered, guiding me over to the window, where we stood, I resting my head back against him as he held me. Edward let the comfortable silence extend for a second or two before asking "Now, what can I do for you?"

"The thing is, because I angered my father, he wants my favourite maid to leave my household, and it would have to be Anne Boleyn, but she's my cousin. I don't want her to go, or if she has to, at least not in disgrace. She doesn't deserve that, not after how she helped me get over my mother's death." As I finally paused for breath, Edward let go of me and sank into the window seat, considering, before he looked up at me, puzzled.

"I see. Well, I can sympathise of course, but how do you want me to help?"

"Here's what I was thinking. One of your mother's maids is pregnant, isn't she?"

Yes, Frances de Vere. Why?"

"Well, Lady Frances will have to leave Court to have the child, won't she? Couldn't you ask your mother if she'd take Anne on in Lady Frances's place? Please? That way I could be sure that, even if Anne leaves my household, she'll still be a maid to one of the highest-ranking Ladies in the Kingdom. Please?" I sat down across from him and leaned over to place a hand on Edward's arm, gazing up at him pleadingly.

Edward looked at me, taking in my bright eyes, my flushed cheeks and the way my unruly auburn hair was beginning to escape from the confines of my bejewelled French hood and then his eyes travelled down to peer at the way my hand lay on his arm. I knew from his silence that I had a chance of persuading him – I just had to press forward.

"You're your mother's son and heir. Parents dote on their boys. Trust me, I know that much. Surely she'll take Anne on if you ask her to. Just tell you heard of Anne's plight and wanted to help though; don't mention me, whatever you do. She'll admire your chivalry to a damsel in distress. She'll want to help you help others, I'm sure of it. Please; just ask her."

Edward glanced down towards my hand on his arm once more and then at last made his decision. He reached out to rest his hand upon my warm rosy cheek.

"I'll do my best, Elizabeth. You have my solemn word. Look, tell Anne to go home to…Hever, isn't it?" Receiving my nod of assent he continued. "Tell her to wait for a letter from my mother, summoning her to Court. It might take a while, but I can wear my mother down, particularly if I appeal to her kind heart. You're right, she does dote on me. I will get Anne a place at Court if you wish it. You have my word." he repeated, and then, having vowed this to me in a fierce whisper, Edward rose to take his formal leave of me. I called my maid Lady Susanna to see him out as he kissed my hand – for the benefit of any would-be spies: I could trust no-one in my household, no-one save Anne and Kat – and then bowed to my sister, who had also come back into the room, before leaving our apartments and heading back to rejoin my half-brother in his. I watched him go before scrambling to my feet and hurrying into Anne Boleyn's small room, where she was already packing her belongings.

I had Edward's consent and his promise that he would persuade his mother – now I just had to alert Anne herself of my plan to do her one last service and get her a place at Court.

I lingered by the half-open door, just watching Anne move around the small room, the way I used to when I was younger and suffering the effects of my mother's beheading, before raising a hand to knock "Anne? May I come in?"

"Oh! Of course, my Lady!" Anne started, but dropped into a curtsy at the sound of my voice behind her. As I came in and shut the door behind me, I laughed and lifted a hand to raise her from her obeisance.

"Anne! Honestly, how many times must I remind you to call me Elizabeth or Cousin, at least when we are alone?"

"Once more, my lady, as always." Anne chuckled, before adding "Elizabeth." as I frowned at her.

"That's better. Now, when do you leave?"

"As soon as I can. George is coming to get me from your household and take me home."

Anne glanced over her shoulder at her half-packed trunk. I reached out to touch her shoulder.

"I'm sorry it's you who have to go, Anne. I begged Kat, honestly. If there was anything I could do..."

"No, Elizabeth. Your father's a dangerous man. My years in England have taught me that much. You couldn't have defied him, Cousin."

Anne tentatively stretched out her arms, as though she wanted to embrace me, but did not quite dare to do so. I solved the conundrum for her by stepping forward and catching her in a swift hug of my own.

Anne stiffened in surprise, but slowly relaxed in my arms, raising her own arms to wrap them around me, holding me tightly. Protocol was broken for us in our last few private moments.

"I am defying him, though, Anne." I murmured into my cousin's shoulder.

"What?" Anne pushed me away to look me straight in the eye. I pulled away from her grasp and sat down on her narrow bed, gesturing to her to join me.

"You have to leave my household, yes, but I'm not letting you leave in disgrace. Kat is writing a letter for you to take to your father, telling him that you've been nothing but a model of good conduct ever since you joined my household and that you're only being dismissed because my father ordered it because of my rudeness to him, and not because you deserve it through any fault of your own. I've also asked Lady Catherine Brandon to write to your father offering you a position in her household as Duchess of Suffolk."

Anne, who had been listening to my hurried explanation with her eyes downcast, suddenly looked up at me mischievously.

"A certain Lord Edward wouldn't have anything to do with the delivery of that request of yours, would he, cousin?"

I flushed. "Yes. How do you know?"

"Elizabeth, it's obvious!" Anne laughed. "You glow like a milkmaid in springtime when you're around him. And he's clearly taken with you."

"You think so?" Even though I knew the answer, I couldn't help the question that slipped from my lips before I could stop it. Anne nodded.

"Of course he is. Why do you think he treats so much like a Princess, even in front of the Duke of Richmond? Edward Brandon adores you, Elizabeth."

Without really knowing what I was doing, I leaned back against Anne, resting my head against her shoulder in a way that I hadn't done since that difficult time three years ago when my mother had been executed and she was the only one, aside from my governess Kat and my sister Blanche who could even begin to comfort me. Anne slipped her arms around me and held me without a word. She knew as well as I did that words just wouldn't cut it this time.

At last, I got up. I went to the door and then turned.

"Anne? Don't bother saying goodbye to me formally. As of here and now, I release you from my household."

"Elizabeth -" She went to step forward, but I shook my head.

"It would be too hard. Just go. Godspeed and God Bless, Cousin."

With that, I left the room. Behind me, I heard the rustle of Anne's skirts as she sank to the floor in a silent curtsy, but I didn't look back.

I couldn't look back. If I did, I'd break down like a child; like my sister Blanche would have done, had she been in my place. But I wasn't Blanche. I was Elizabeth.

I was fourteen years old and a Princess of the House of Tudor.

I had to act grown-up.