Gloriana – my Tudor Court AU with Emma as Elizabeth I and Killian as a mix of Robert Dudley and Francis Drake – was one of those fics that I did intend to continue but time just got away from me, and it did work as a one shot so I left it as it was. But I had started writing a second part forever ago and when I got this message I pulled up the file, reread it and my inner history nerd came out again….
….7,000 words later, here is Part 2. I always envisioned this as a non-linear story anyway, so there’s two flashback scenes plus a scene that takes place after part 1 and I’ve included the night at Hatfield referenced in this line, “She hadn’t been a virgin since that night at Hatfield House lo those many years ago, when Killian had taken her to his bed and made her a woman in his arms, ruining her for any other man from that day forward.”
(rated M)
Part 1 is here on Tumblr and the fic is posted on ff.net here
Gloriana – Part 2Hampton Court Palace
Some Time Ago“I do not believe we have been properly introduced, my lord.”
“We have not, but I’m afraid I must correct you, Your Highness, as I am not a lord.”
“And I must correct you, good sir, as I am simply Lady Emma and in my sister’s court it is a foolish mistake to call me Highness.”
The tall man with bright blue eyes that reminded Emma of the sea leaned down slightly in a graceful hint of a bow and lowered his voice so that it carried only to her ears, “I assure you I am no fool, Your Highness. My name is Killian Jones, and I have come to court to swear my service solely to the Princess Emma, lawful daughter of the great King David and true heiress to the throne of England.”
Across the room Philip of Spain bowed somewhat stiffly to Emma’s half sister Mary, daughter of her late father David and his first wife, the repudiated Kathryn. The whole of the court was there to celebrate their marriage, including Emma, the rather inconvenient heiress presumptive who Mary could hardly bear the sight of at times but couldn’t quite ignore completely. The courtiers tended to follow their queen’s lead and few were brave enough to be seen conversing openly with Mary Blanchard’s daughter. Queen Mary’s memory was long and her hatred of the dark haired siren of a woman who had drawn her father away from Kathryn had never abated over the years, frequently spilling over to the only child of the passionate union between king and commoner.