FRAGMENTS OF A DYNASTY
Summary: Elizabeth gets a huge welcome to heaven. Pairings: implied Margret/Jasper/Edmund triangle, Arthur/Katherine of Aragon if you squint, mentions of Tom Seymour/Katherine Parr/Elizabeth, Henry/all six wives, all six wives/Elizabeth in mother/daughter, sibling Elizabeth/Mary/Edward, and implied Robert/Elizabeth. The first thing she heard was a familiar voice shouts her name. Not that she paid any attention really, she was slightly preoccupied with the fact she looked nineteen again. The voice shouted her name again and then suddenly she is swept into a smothering warm embrace. A slight musky scent from all that incense a Catholic alter burns mixed with rose and lavender... She was being held by Mary. "Mary," she whispered, she will admit it she was in shock considering Mary practically wished her dead before. Her sister pulls away and Elizabeth is further stunned by how beautiful she was. She hadn't seen her sister this radiant and beautiful since she was a child. "Elizabeth, I'm so sorry, I was so horrible." Mary said quickly before Elizabeth could say anything. "I was bitter, resentful, angry, possessive and obsessive, and I should have never taken it out on you. You were just an innocent during this. I want you to know I put the blame on the right person." "Who?" Elizabeth asked tentatively, she was worried it was going to go back on her mother again. "Our father." There was a groan and a whimper from somewhere but Elizabeth ignored it as she was suddenly almost tackled to the ground by a forceful weight. "Elizabeth!" Edward cried out looking healthier than he ever did when he was alive...err was that a good thing? "You were amazing Elizabeth!" "You were," Mary agreed. "I wish I had never married and then perhaps I could have been a better Queen." Elizabeth does not contradict her older sister. She whole heartedly agreed with her, after all if it was not for Phillip, his ambassador and Bishop Gardiner they could have made a great two women team and mended England a lot quicker than Elizabeth did on her own. "Out of the way!" a strange sharp voice snapped. "I want to see her myself! Stop being selfish Mary and Edward!" "Lady Grandmother!" Edward protested although he stepped away from Elizabeth to reveal a small young looking girl. She could be no older than fifteen but instantly (considering how she was young again) Elizabeth knew she was a lot older than that. She saw no similarities between herself and the woman but there were a few with Mary. "Elizabeth, this is our Great Grandmother, My Lady, the King's Mother." Edward introduced them. Margret Beaufort grabbed hold of Elizabeth's wrists tightly, narrowed her eyes at her before giving a nod of approval, and then suddenly kissing both of Elizabeth's cheeks and releasing her. "You are the best of the Tudor House. There had never been anyone I am more proud of, apart from perhaps my own son since he did put us on the throne of England, but you were the best. There was very little that you did was stupid." "Excuse me!" Mary cried out. "Oh, do not concern yourself with trivia, you understand that I am proud of your devotion to the Catholic Church but you didn't half make a hash out of ruling the country with that marriage." Mary decided not to argue and dragged Edward away somewhere leaving Elizabeth with her slightly eccentric great grandmother. "I suppose I should take you to see the others. Your friends and that Dudley boy will want to see you eventually as well," there is a disdainful sniff, "I do not approve of that boy but I suppose since you waited this long in life on earth you might as well enjoy paradise." Elizabeth did not say anything but she gave her great grandmother a small smile and was rather surprised to see one in return. She was led to a long grand table where everyone was seated; they were all smiling and laughing apart from one slumped figure that appeared to have given up on death as well as life. A handsome, reddish-blonde haired man stepped up and offered his hand to Great Grandmother who accepted it and disappeared for a stroll with him, Elizabeth deduced that that man must have been her Great Grandfather. "Oh no, that is your Great Uncle Jasper," a blonde man said reading her thoughts, " your Great Grandfather is down there somewhere talking to your Grandfather, and yes that does mean that Lady Margret Beaufort was in love with the wrong brother, and no that does not mean that Edmund Tudor is not your Great Grandfather, and before you ask I did not read your mind but your facial expressions you share quite a few of them with your sister and brother, I am your Uncle Arthur." "Pleased to meet you," Elizabeth said holding her hand out. She was extremely pleased to say he took it, flipped it over, and gave it a kiss that a Queen should have. She suspected he only did the same for Mary and perhaps her mother. "Now I must abandon you to the six wives as I make some conversation with my own parents," Arthur said with a wink and suddenly disappearing to reveal a beautiful woman. She looked exactly like Elizabeth. The same eyes – colour and shape, - the same nose, the same lips, the same high cheekbones, and the same pale skin. She had deep dark curling hair and wore a very old fashioned dress (Elizabeth reminded herself that this woman had been dead for almost seventy years and could not have the latest lace collar). This was her mother, the infamous whore, Anne Boleyn. "Mama!" She did not know who initiated the hug she just knew it was everything she had wanted for so very long and it did not last as long as she had liked since she was pried out of Anne Boleyn's arms and pulled into the familiar warm arms of Katherine Parr. "I am so sorry," Elizabeth cried, not quite sure if she was apologising to her mother for being a girl or to Kate for lying with Tom Seymour. "I am so sorry!" "Nonsense my darling girl you have done no crime to any of us," Kate murmured, stroking her fine red hair and giving her a comforting kiss on the forehead before passing her on to a strange set of arms. "It is a shame that I never got to hold you or my son in life," a sweet melodic voice said. Elizabeth looked up to the beautiful blonde woman who she had a very vague memory of a Christmas with. This was of course Jane Seymour. "I am sorry, myself, for it was me that caused not only your mother's death but Tom being so close to the Royal Household." "Nonsense Jane," Anne Boleyn said cheerfully, "we all agreed it was Henry's fault." Another groan and whimper came from somewhere down the table. The women all rolled their eyes before Kitty Howard bounced across and gave Elizabeth a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Dear Bessie!" she exclaimed. "You shouldn't have not married on my account! Not all women cheat on their husbands and get beheaded." "Very true but this one husband should not have married you in the first place," a grave woman who looked like a darker version of Mary said softly. Her Spanish accent was thick and warm. Elizabeth felt a little nervous but the woman embraced her and complimented her. "You and Edward are almost like my Mary's children. Therefore I shall love you both dearly, besides I hold everything against your father now." Another annoying groan and whimper. "What on earth is that noise?" Elizabeth asked. "Your Father, ignore him, we do," Aunt Anne said gently. "Everyone has come to welcome you," her mother said excitedly, "Aunt Mary, my sister not Henry's, and Uncle George are here as well though your Aunt Mary on your father's side is somewhere here with Aunt Margret. Quite a few of the Scottish cousins and Grey relatives are here as well." Elizabeth could see Jane Grey in the corner of her eye talking excitedly to Edward and Mary. A sight she never expected to see. "Even Mary, Queen of Scots?" she asked warily not sure if she was ready to speak to the woman she had beheaded. "Oh no! Do not worry though, I say give it a century or two and it will all be forgiven and forgotten about." There slumped figure sat up revealing himself to be Elizabeth's father causing her to jump a little. She didn't expect him to be here for some reason. "So why haven't you forgiven and forgotten yet?" "She said a century or two, it hasn't even been a century yet, moron," Katherine of Aragon snapped. "Elizabeth dear, would you like to open up about how you feel about your father ruining your life." Elizabeth felt a smirk grow on her face. How odd, she thought to herself, that I seemed to have inherited my smirk from all of my stepmothers as well as my own mother. Henry groaned and smacked his head against the table – repeatedly. Honestly he wondered if it was possible to die again. Anything to get out of this eternal hell.
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