Memories of Ghosts

Sixteen: Royal Blood

**So Scotland is harder to write than England which is why this chapter took 5-ever to post (I also went to Disney World in Florida for a week but that's just another excuse, isn't it?). There's too many teddy-bears-disguised-as-assholes characters in this fic!

Nevertheless, I persisted. Please enjoy!**

19 May 1568

"Now, gentlemen, you all know why we are here, so there's no time for unserviceable debates today," Elizabeth announced, her voice reverberating around the large room where her Privy Council was gathered, each man entirely focused on the queen in front of him.

Nearly all sat on the edge of their seats; different passions were displayed across their faces, ranging from heated antagonism to increasing uneasiness. Papers were neatly arranged and quills were prepared, dipped in ink and grasped firmly in between fingers. Not a word slipped through their lips—they waited in high expectancy for Her Majesty to speak the words they all were thinking.

Elizabeth peered around the room with an air of authority and then declared, "We must decide what to do about Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland."

All at once, court members began shouting out their personal solutions, hoping theirs could be heard above everyone else's. Some waved their quills in the air as a way of grabbing the Queen's attention while some threw angry looks at other members, clearly discordant about whatever they were saying. The noise they made was unprofessional and chaotic.

Elizabeth sighed disapprovingly as she rested her chin in the palm of her hand. She slowly blinked at Arthur who sat at a table with William Cecil not too far away. Even though she wore that serious, grave mask of hers while in court, Arthur could plainly see the aggravated spark in her eyes. We're never leaving this room today, are we? the spark seemed to grumble.

Also expressing a stern appearance, he blinked back as a way of saying, Most likely, thus something productive must come out all of this.

At that, he pursed his lips and addressed to the rest of the room's occupants in a loud yet monotoned voice: "Her Majesty said no unserviceable debates today. Speaking all at once is exactly that; behave like the royal council you are."

The frantic shouts faded to bitter whispers and then to the mere ruffling of papers. Arthur glanced back in time to see Elizabeth cover her mouth with her fingers, attempting to conceal a grin that was on the verge of becoming a giggle. She swiftly recovered, however, returning to her "court mask" almost instantly (Arthur bit the inside of his cheek to suppress his own chuckle).

The Queen lightly tugged at the large ruff hugging her neck and continued: "On the sixteenth of May, We received a letter from Mary Stuart of Scotland that was dated the sixteenth of May and written in Workington, Cumberland. In it contained the results of the Battle of Langside—Mary's army was defeated and apparently fled the battlefield after losing over a hundred men. Her supporters—one of them being Lord Allister Kirkland, the personification of Scotland—helped her cross the border by sailing across the River Derwent and into Cumberland. Mary wishes for guidance and protection against her country's Protestants." She paused, looking around the room. "What should be done about this?"

"Scotland's queen isn't to be trusted!" replied Nicholas Bacon, immediately taking the opportunity to let his opinion be known. "Your Majesty has offered her plenty of assistance and advice in the past and she denied every single one of them. Asking for more is unnecessary and foolish of her."

The Privy Council mumbled in agreement.

Elizabeth nodded along, writing down some personal notes. "Yes, she's getting unpredictable which could lead to many destructible outcomes. We cannot just ignore her, though; something must be done."