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"This isn't nearly as fun as father said it would be.", a small voice spoke next to her, almost inaudible in the midst of a busy banquet and music.
Elizabeth blinked at the boy blankly, nodding but not quite understanding what prompted him to make a conversation. People usually tended to avoid her around court, preferring to turn their heads and walk away than stay and talk. The lack of response did nothing to deter him, however, he continued talking as if nothing happened,
"I'm Robert," he finally said, turning towards her with a bright grin and an extended hand, "I heard you're the king's daughter, that makes you a princess, does it not?"
It was then that she returned his warmth with some of her own, a small smile pulling at her lips, "Elizabeth. My governess says I'm just a bastard, not a princess, though it would be nice to be one."
He nodded as solemnly as a boy of eight could, reverting his gaze back to the crowd dancing in the middle of the room, "Adults are confusing," he spoke after a moment's consideration, "sometimes my father asks me to be more thoughtful, other times he says I think more than I am supposed to, I do not know why they talk that way."
He smiled at her, then, as an afterthought, he added, "It's nice to meet you, Not-Princess Elizabeth."
It shouldn't hurt this much, she thought. She should not feel robbed of something that was never hers in the first place. She had no right.
Oh but you do, said another side of her mind.
He is yours just as you are his.
Sometimes she thought this was a result of her own actions. Perhaps she had pushed Robert too far. Perhaps she had made him feel used. She knew her decisions were what she wanted, that were she given a second chance, she would not change a thing, and yet it hurt all the same. To be the architect of your own misery secure in the knowledge that it was a design you would be willing to be crushed under over and over was one of, if not the most, upsetting feelings she had ever known.
Even now as she sat in the solar, thumb running over the broken seal of an old letter, eyes fixated on nowhere in particular and mind thinking of what she had just done, she could not bring herself to feel an ounce of satisfaction.
Lady Lettice Devereaux is to be banished from court until such time as is the Queen's pleasure.
Lady Lettice Knollys is to be banished from court until such time as is the Queen's pleasure.
Lady Leicester is to be banished from court until such time as is the Queen's pleasure.
Lady Lettice Dudley is to be banished from court until such time as is the Queen's pleasure.
It was silly, she supposed, to dwell upon how the royal order was to be worded when it would be penned down in the documents, but she did it all the same, overturning each of the possible sentences in her mind until the word 'Queen' itself started to feel unfamiliar.
"Your Majesty?"
The voice startled her out of her thoughts as she looked up at the squire,
"The Earl of Leicester is here asking for an audience, should I send him in?"
For a moment she considered saying no, not sure if she could handle herself, or he could, given her earlier outburst, but she thought to give no more reasons to the already gossiping servants and nobility, and after a moment murmured a soft 'yes', now looking at the ring on her hand as if glaring at it would somehow get her out of this situation.
"Elizabeth."
There he was. The same beautiful face she had so often caressed now awashed in rouge due to what she assumed to be nervousness and the same hands she had so oft lovingly held now fiddling away at each other, just as anxious as her own.
"It is Your Majesty to you, my lord, I will not let an oversight like this pass should it occur again." she said, with as much coldness she could muster, blinking back the few tears that betrayed her and welled up, still not daring to look at him.
"Your Majesty," he replied, tone no less informal than it had been, "let me explain, please."
"Leave us.", she all but shouted at her ladies, and it was only when all of them were gone that she raised her head, fire in her heart and the beginnings of a snarl on her face.
"Explain? A mistake is explained, Sir, not a decision that affects lives more than just your own. I have nothing to say to you, I think it would be best if you left. I had to find out from someone else, you had not the courtesy of telling me yourself. You, my lord Leicester, are a coward, who does not have the courage to stand up for your love to the one you loved. Were you ever planning on telling me?"
"It is not what you think."
"Not what I think?", she asked incredulously, standing up and moving closer until she could look him in the eyes, "not what I think? What else, Robert, does a marriage mean but the fact that you are now married. To another woman. Did I not love you enough? Or are my affections of so little consequence to you that you think it best to discard them in favor of, what? A new wife? Estates?"
"No, oh, no. Elizabeth, I would much rather have you throw me in the tower or see me dead than have you question the love I bear you. Listen to me-"
"That is enough. Shouldn't you be with her," she spat, as if the word burnt her very tongue.
"Would you listen to me for once," he repeated, hands coming up to hold her arms, and for all her coldness, she could not bring herself to back away, "It is not what you think, she needed freedom to love, and I needed security from the constant suspicions of court, that is all this union is, and will ever be."
"What?"
It sounded as absurd an justification as any she had ever heard, and yet it settled her beating heart and cleared the fog of hatred that clouded her mind. She grabbed at his hand on her arm for some stability as she suddenly felt lightheaded, and the concern on his face when he held her close touched her in a way a few things had.
"What would she need freedom from?"
"You know as well as any what trials women face here, Elizabeth, but that's not all she has to go through, Lettice is already in love with one she cannot have, so by this marriage she can be with the one she adores and still be respected in the realm."
"Who is it?"
"One of her ladies."
Then Elizabeth understood. There it was, a worse fate for someone in England than being a woman. She laughed, with relief, at the sheer ridiculousness of this predicament, or with hysteria, she did not know, but she laughed and laughed until there were tears in her eyes, Robert's gaze on her unwavering as she wiped them off and placed her hands on his chest, moving so it was easier for him to hold her.
"I thought I went too far, with my talk of never marrying, I thought you had grown tired of me."
He moved a hand to cup her face, smiling when she leaned into it, "I could not do that if I so wished, Your Majesty, I have been yours since the day we met and I will be so till the day I die. You are not going to lose me, ever."
"I prayed to God it were not true when I heard the news.", she confessed.
"Yes, but," she looked skeptically as Robert's smile turned somber and he dropped to his knees, "It is not God's forgiveness I seek," he said, pressing a kiss to her hand and looking at her as if she was his only way to absolution, "it is yours."
Gone were the days when they used to be shy around one another, drunk on their youth and affection for each other yet never quite managing to be themselves without questioning their every move, now, with years of easy familiarity and shared experiences, both joys and sorrows, behind them, it took little more than a touch for one of them to convey and the other to understand.
"Sweet Robin," she breathed, running a hand over his cheek as she took in the unabashed admiration in his eyes, the one man who never let her down, who gave her his all and never asked for anything in return, "my Eyes, how I have missed you."
"And I you, my love, " he said, a slight smirk on his lips as he heard her breath hitch when he ran his hand up the back of her foot, grabbing her calf and placing it on his knee, "my Queen," he continued as he bent down to press a kiss to the skirts covering her leg, worshipping at her altar like the most devoted of priests and finally, to her relief, standing up and letting her press her mouth to his, whispering softly, "I love you."
"I love you too."
Elizabeth smiled against his lips, hands tangled in his hair and head in the clouds as she felt truly free after a long time.
They pulled away only by the need to breathe, then, as they always did, broke into chuckles and rested their foreheads against each other, content in their embrace with no care for the rest of the world.
"Careful, my lady, it is quite unbecoming of someone of your standing to be alone with a man.", he teased, to which Elizabeth replied just as easily.
"Ah but you, Sir, are no man, are you?"
All that was left in the vast chamber was laughter as Robert picked her up, two happy souls in the dark abyss that was England.