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This too shall pass.
She kept herself sane with those words, her mantra. Every queenly duty that tired her of human interaction, every meeting of court or state that made her long for - well. She would long for the innocence of her youth, except she had barely had any. The first seven years of her life, approximately, were the only ones she remembered as being truly carefree. They passed.
She learned that everything, bad and good, comes to an end, and gradually that became her lifeline. Each time she faced a new challenge, she repeated that phrase over and over in her mind.
This too shall pass.
When she saw her husband with another woman, she was less surprised than resigned. Henry's heart had always been fickle, and she had expected as much, though that did not make it hurt less. When she asked him about it, he informed her in no uncertain terms that her approval of his new mistress was not necessary or desired. As if she thought it was.
She was learning the limits of her power, becoming accustomed to relinquishing control.
She was Queen of France, but she had power over neither the king nor his country. It was a title- one that granted her very little except the ability to plan meals, decorate chambers, and wear a target on her back at all times. She would look lovely and keep her mouth shut.
This too shall pass.
Of course, she used what power she had to make a place for herself. She was not so weak as to cave to her role and give up all autonomy. She had her ways of maintaining control, few of which were conventional and none of which were entirely honest - but she comforted her conscience by remembering it was a last resort. She would make her confession and forget. She was aware, dimly, that neither of these actions helped alleviate the burden of guilt she always bore, and so she learned to expand her skills of deception and use them upon herself. She would straighten her shoulders, adjust the load, and lie.
This too shall pass.
Sometimes it was true, other times it was a comforting falsehood, but it was her mantra nonetheless. Her memories of the attack when she was eight. Henry's constant affairs with other women. The guilt, hatred, deception, and most of all, the feeling that she was utterly trapped. It would pass.
Until, one day, she found something she didn't want to end. She held her children in her arms, looked at their small dear faces, eyes wide with innocence and trust. She would not betray them. They would be safe, they would be well, they would be innocent for as long as she could help them to be. They would be what she couldn't. She was determined, and when she wanted something, she got it. Her love for them felt infinite and whole, and she was unaccustomed to a feeling so pure. She swore it would not be wasted. She wanted it - them - to endure. To be her legacy.
It was ironic, really, that she had forgotten her mantra.
This too shall pass.
They did.