On an otherwise unassuming day, the people of Camelot, and indeed, all of Albion, were treated to a rare event.
Camelot and the King of Knights were greeting a rare guest. The Duke of Lancaster, the former Queen of England, Elizabeth of Windsor. Ever since the two-day war and her short announcement, she hadn't been seen much.
Only a single time since then, when she met the King of Knights, the once and future King Arthuria, to hand over the realm, did she show herself.
And now, once again, the former queen, a still beloved figure in Albion, arrived in Camelot to meet with the king.
Given how rare it was to see her, everyone was eager to catch a glimpse of the Duchess of Lancaster.
They would have their wish.
Because Camelot had rules — there were no cars or closed carriages allowed. Even horses, carriages, or bikes weren't often seen in the city, as most people got around on foot. But given her advanced age, the Duchess was permitted a carriage ride through the city.
Much as when she had been a queen, the people lined up at the sides of the streets, waving at her.
She rode in an open, polished carriage, its frame crafted from gleaming white wood, intricately carved with symbols of the ancient British Isles, of dragons and lions, of crowns and swords. The wheels creaked softly against the smooth, polished stone of Camelot's streets, the faint clink of the horse's harnesses the only other sound in the otherwise silent crowd.
Then the cheers began.
It started with a single voice, a lone cheer that echoed off the tall, white stone walls of Camelot, then another joined it, then another, until the entire street was filled with the sound of thousands of voices, their cheers rising to a deafening crescendo.
The Duchess sat with her back straight, chin held high, white hair gleaming in the sunlight as she raised a gloved hand in a small, dignified wave. Despite her advanced age, her expression remained calm, serene, her blue eyes sharp and clear.
She wore the deep, royal blue of her house, a small, silver crown set with sapphires atop her head, gloved hands folded neatly in her lap, posture as regal as ever.
To the people of Albion, she was still a symbol of strength, of grace, of stability in a world that had been upended, and they greeted her with the same respect and admiration they had always shown her.
She was greeted by the towering, armored figures of Arthuria's knights, their polished armor gleaming in the bright morning light. Each one a legend in their own right. Legends she had heard about growing up.
Legends about the past of Britain, and the past of her own family in some cases. Yet now, so very real.
The return of legends hadn't been easy; they came with blood and war… but at least, she had to admit, that now, her home, the Isles her family had ruled for centuries, knew peace and prosperity.
So perhaps… it was all for the better.
Slowly, the Duchess stepped out of her carriage and turned to wave to the people, nodding her head in thanks. It was a strange feeling she felt today. It reminded her of the old days, but also of what had changed.
At the very least, she knew her people still cared for her – that she had not failed them.
Slowly, she went up the stairs to the castle itself, glad that her aged body could still handle a bit of walking around, because Camelot really wasn't built for people of poor walking.
As she reached the top of the stairs, the massive, polished white doors of the palace swung open, revealing the grand, echoing hall beyond.
Sunlight streamed through the tall, stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the polished marble floors, the air cool and crisp, the faint scent of fresh flowers lingering in the air.
ruly, the castle of Camelot was incomparable to any other she had ever known. It felt almost magical – a place no one could ever truly replicate.
With the knights of the Round Table leading the way, she once again made her way through the rich corridors of Arthuria's home.
Though this time she wasn't led towards the throne room. Instead, she found herself led into a cozy sitting room. A fire gently crackled in the fireplace. It wasn't dark, nor overly bright, giving the room a comfortably homely feel.
A soft rustle of fabric drew her attention to the opposite side of the room, where Arthuria stood by the window, her long, golden hair catching the soft glow of the firelight. She was not dressed in her regal armor but in a simple yet elegant blue gown, the kind that suited a host rather than a ruler.
Arthuria turned, offering a small, welcoming smile. "Your Grace," she greeted warmly. "Thank you for accepting my invitation. Please, have a seat."
Elizabeth gave a small nod, moving to the comfortable armchair nearest the fire. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she replied, lowering herself into the seat with practiced grace. One of the knights moved to pour tea, but Arthuria waved him away with a gentle motion.
"Allow me," Arthuria said, taking the teapot herself. She poured two cups, her movements careful and precise, and then handed one to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was one of the few people who knew that their king was, in fact, a woman. Something that had been rather surprising when she first learned of it.
Yet, as she was told about the reasons, she understood them. She, too, had struggled as a queen without a king. So she could only imagine how hard it would have been for Arthuria, centuries before her.
The former queen accepted the cup, glancing at Arthuria with a mix of curiosity and admiration. "No your majesty, it is I who should thank you for inviting me here, I know you are busy working for the betterment of the people."
I offered her a small smile as I settled into the armchair across from her. My own cup of tea was slowly steaming on the table. "It is my duty, the people deserve a leader who cares for them, who works for them, and I wish to be that."
Elizabeth returned the smile, her gloved hands resting lightly on the armrests of her chair. "That is precisely why I have come, Your Majesty. I come not just as the Duchess of Lancaster, but as a voice for the other noble houses. Many of them have expressed concerns… and hopes… for the future of Albion."
I nodded slightly at her words, but my eyes grew sharper. I had waited for this. The noble houses had so far been mostly taking a wait and see response. I had granted them their nobility, ensuring they wouldn't lose what their families had earned over generations.
But other than coming to me to ensure their titles, giving me gifts to try and earn my favor, they had done little to cash in on that favor.
However, it seemed that now they had something to ask.
"I see," I said, leaning back slightly, my hands folding neatly in my lap. "Then please, speak freely, Your Grace. What is it the nobility of Albion seeks?"
Elizabeth took a slow sip of her tea, her sharp blue eyes never leaving mine as she carefully placed the cup back onto its saucer. She was measuring her words, a habit I had come to recognize among the nobility. They rarely said what they truly meant without first testing the waters.
"The nobility of Albion is grateful, Your Majesty," she began, her tone measured, polite. "You have brought peace, stability, and prosperity to these lands. You have restored honor to the Isles, brought order to chaos, and for that, you have their respect."
I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging the compliment without letting it distract me. I knew well enough that praise often came with a hidden price.
"But" she continued, her hands folding neatly in her lap, her gaze never wavering, "there is a sense of… uncertainty among the noble houses. They worry about the situation outside your borders, the world is becoming increasingly hostile towards us, and it will bring certain limitations to us all, lack of essentials being one of them."
I met her gaze evenly, my expression calm. I had expected this. The nobles were hardly the only ones with this concern, it was shared by many, yet no answers had been given. Most people were able to sit still, hoping that I was working on it.
But nobles were rarely content to simply sit back and watch as the world around them changed. They liked to be on the inside, to be part of things. More so in this age, in Albion, where nobles saw a chance at real power once again.
"I understand their worries," I said, setting my cup down gently. "Albion's sudden emergence as an independent power has undoubtedly drawn the attention, and perhaps even the ire, of the world. Our decision to break away from the old order, to forge a new path, was never going to be without its challenges. But I assure you, I am not blind to these concerns."
Elizabeth's eyes remained fixed on me, her sharp, piercing gaze unrelenting. She had ruled an empire, faced down crises that would have broken lesser leaders. She understood the weight of power, the burden of rule. I respected that about her.
"Then you have plans to address this?" she asked, her tone carefully measured, her fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of her chair.
I allowed myself a small, confident smile. "I do. I have plans to ensure that Albion isn't tied to the rest of the world, that we can stand fully on our own; only then can we negotiate with them. Only when we no longer need them do we cease to fear them, and only then are we truly equal in negotiations."
Elizabeth's lips tightened slightly, her eyes narrowing in thought. She was a sharp woman, one who could see the potential risks as clearly as the potential rewards. "That is a bold vision, Your Majesty. But it will not be easy. The Isles just can't stand alone, we can't produce for our needs."
I met her gaze without hesitation, my voice firm, my eyes hard. "That is where you are wrong, where there is a will, there is a way. While standing fully alone will be impossible, we shouldn't need anyone, that is my goal."
Elizabeth's eyes flicked down to her teacup, her fingers tapping lightly against the delicate porcelain as she absorbed my words. She took a slow breath, the movement measured, deliberate, as if weighing each word before she spoke.
"That is… ambitious, Your Majesty," she said at last, her tone carefully controlled, her expression giving nothing away. "But the nobility worries that in our pursuit of independence, we may isolate ourselves. They fear that if Albion is seen as too self-sufficient, too unyielding, it may provoke the world to act against us, to cut us off before we can stand on our own."
I gave a small, understanding nod, leaning back slightly in my chair. "I am aware of that risk. But what choice do I have? Allow myself to fall? Is the kingdom returning to what it was before I returned from Avalon? No, the risks must be taken, and I fear not their response, they should fear mine."
Elizabeth was an old hand at this game of politics, far better than I could hope to be. After all, she had been playing this game for a long time.
But she wasn't used to having force on her side, Britain hadn't been weak under her rule, but they hadn't had the same divine might as it had now. And she didn't know how the world would change soon.
The world, the entire universe, would soon face a great purple storm, and it meant that this time was the best to make these changes.
"And how do you intend to achieve that, if I may ask?" she inquired, her tone polite, but with a hint of genuine curiosity.
I allowed myself a small, confident smile. "I might be a king of old, but I am not blind to the benefits of technology." I began to slowly explain my plans.
Because over the last year, I had made many plans, and done much, achieved far more than anyone believed.
(end of chapter)
Just a little visit from our favourite immortal Queen. Come to meet an immortal king who is also a Queen.
Just setting up some stuff here, highlighting a few things, nothing big, but we can't forget about little Lilibet, even if she isn't so little anymore.