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Chapter Text

The carriage came to a still abruptly, ripping Mary from her dreams. Dreams of him, dreams of them together, him holding her close, their fingers intertwined, dreams of happier memories. But those were just dreams, pretty one, but dreams nonetheless. Her heart ached longing for those sweet moments of pure joy they spent together.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts keeping a cool head. Her initial pan had failed and now she had to figure out a way to make things right again, to save him. She had never planed on returning ever again, to she him again, to see the hurt in his eyes and to know that she was the cause.

And then there was Bash to consider. The king would be furious with them both though he wouldn't dare touch Mary, she was an independent queen herself. But Bash was a French subject, the kings bastard son and only allowed at court by his fathers good graces, which would surely be gone now. She promised to keep him save, to protect him from his father, from Cathrin and - as much as it pained her to entertain the idea - from him, the one who’s life she sought to protect.

One of the guards helped her from the carriage. The usual trumpets announcing a royal arrival that normally accompanied her were silent. No doubt in order to keep the illusion that she had never left in the first place. The king would hate to admit that the Scottish queen, a mere girl, his claim to the English throne, had slipped through his fingers, escaping on horseback.

She was ushered into a side entrance, surely to keep the gossip at bay, and was told that the king was expecting her in the throne room. She hadn’t seen Bash since the guards had taken him into their custody at the tavern they were hiding at. He must have already been brought to the dungeons, chained to wall. She prayed they hadn't tortured him yet, maybe she could convince the king and spare him that fate. She hated the thought of Bash being tortured for helping her, for going along with her plan, though reckless it might have been.

She hurried along the corridors leading to the throne room, garnering looks of bewilderment and surprise from nobles and servants alike. Just now remembering how she must look, not at all decent or presentable in the least. Her hair disheveled, kept in a long and messy braid with pieces of her dark chocolate locks pocking out. Her dress wrinkled and muddy from riding days on end. Also she hadn't taken a bath in days and her usual lotions and oils that kept her body smooth and soft were a luxury that her escape hadn't offered. She tried her best to rearrange her messy hair, tucking some of the loose strands back into the braid and smoothing over the front of her dress in an hopeless effort to look more like the strong independent queen she longed to be, not the scared and trapped girl she felt.

Getting closer to the throne room, she could feel her heartbeat rise and her breath growing shorter and more hitched. Her feet were aching from all the walking and riding and she couldn't bring her mind to focus on the task ahead. She must keep a clear head, calm the kings anger, make him understand. She was feeling sick, the king scared her and after all, she was just a young girl, a queen only by name. She had never had to rule or make any decisions regarding her life as a queen before this day. That was the job of her advisers, her mother, ruling in Scotland in her stead. She was the king’s equal merely on paper, and she hadn’t the faintest idea of how to make her pleas before him heard, let alone garner his and the courtiers’ respect.

Before turning the last corner, she halted in an empty hallway to collect her thoughts. Her mind was racing and her stomach seamed to be tied up in an impossibly tight knot, she was thankful for not spewing out the contents of her stomach right then and there.

It was then that she heard them, footsteps coming her way, they must belong a man’s boots by the sound of them. She knew, even before she could turn to face the approacher, even before she felt his breath on the bare skin of her neck, before her nose could detect the smell that was so distinctly his, she knew.

„Mary“, his voice was hoarse, lined with the hurt she had caused him. The sound clawed at her heart.

She faced him, keeping her eyes glued to the embroiled tiles on the floor. She couldn’t dare meet his gaze, look into those eyes, it would hurt to much. He was her weak spot and now was not the time to be weak, she must stay strong, it was the only way to get through this. So she put on a mask of indifference, praying for him not to hear the hurt and grief in her voice as she spoke.

„Francis“ her voice sounded surprisingly calm.

„You came back …“ she could simultaneously hear the hope and incredulousness in his words. He sounded desperate and broken.

„Yes“ she answered, fiddling with her finger in her lap to keep them from shaking. „on Bash’s behalf.“ she added quickly, her heart racing in her chest, betraying her cool exterior.

„Why are you doing this Mary? We were happy and you left without any explanation, running off with my brother? You swore you’d wait for me!“, he spat the words out and anger was joining the hurt in his voice. With her eyes intently directs towards the floor she could still make out the change in his posture. When before his shoulder were slumped and his stance crooked resembling the one of a broken man, he was now straightening himself out, letting the dauphin take the place of the hurt boy. And she could feel his glare, mercilessly tucking at hear cold and wavering facade of indifference.

She couldn’t bare it anymore, she couldn’t tell him why she really left. Cathrin was right, he would try to talk her out of it, and he would be successful. She couldn’t allow it. She had to get away from him, he would see right through any lies she might present him with. He knew her too well.

So she turned, meaning to flee along the corridor into the throne room. She felt his hand grabbing her by her right arm, keeping her in place. His touch, normally so familiar to her body, felt different. His grasp was hard, unwavering, and even though she had her long sleeve dress as a protective layer between them, she couldn't help but shiver at his touch. He forced her to turn and her body complied following his unspoken command. His other arm reached for her chin, barely touching her skin for she flinched away, forcing her gaze to meet his. Her whole body froze in place and she was loosing herself in those all too familiar eyes. Two orbs the colour of ice glaring at her brown ones mercilessly and it was too much. She simply couldn’t bare it any longer. She knew she had hurt him and she knew she would have to hurt him even more, if his life was to be saved. Her facade finally crumbled her mask falling from her face. A single tear escaped onto her cheek, which she hastily sought to wipe away with her free hand that was now trembling she realized.

He tightened his grip on her arm, leaning his torso into her’s, „Mary, talk to me, please!“ There was pleading in his words and she could see the ice in his eyes melt and turn into two pools of blue water. He might have wanted to seem cold and abrasive, she realized, but he too couldn't keep up his facade.

„I can’t Francis, I can’t. … I …“ her voice was shaking and she wasn't exactly sure what she wanted to say, what she could say, could tell him so he would just let her be. His presence was overwhelming and as much as she willed herself to stay strong and cold towards him, her own body betrayed her. Her skin was craving his touch that made her come alive in his hands, her ears longed for the steady rhythm of his heart beating against hers, her mouth longing to taste his.

This was all to save his life, she forced herself to remember. Pictures of Francis cold to her touch, dead in her arms swam before her eyes, taking over her mind. She couldn't get lost in the memories of what they used to have or the dreams of a sweeter future together that would most certainly result in his death. She needed to stay strong for the both of them, she would not let herself be the cause of his death, never.

She ripped her arm from his grasp, using the moment of surprise to her advantage, hurrying away form him, nearly tripping over her own dress in the process. She could hear him calling out her name behind her, begging for her to come back. But he thankfully seemed to have stayed in place and was not following her, for his longer legs could have surely caught up to her.

A sense of relieve washed though her body when she finally reached the throne room, gladly facing Henry’s anger if it meant escaping Francis’ pleading eyes.

Chapter Text

The warm water felt southing on her skin and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in, letting herself relax for the first time in hours, for days if she was being completely honest. And suddenly she couldn't hold it back any longer and the tears started falling from her eyes in a steady stream, mixing with the scented bath water and all the memories came rushing back in, crushing her underneath their weight. Her whole body was shaking with uncontrollable and silent sobs, her lungs desperately grasping for air.

Her mind was spinning, trying to make sense of it all. She felt so utterly helpless, like a wounded animal left on the side of the road, alone and deprived off all it’s strength.

The king’s fury had been beyond even her wildest imaginations, his enraged screams had filled the whole castle, chilling her to down to her bones. She had simply stood there in silence, averting her gaze and feeling the stares of the other courtiers, in particular Cathrine, upon her. The queen’s expression had been stoic as usual, with only the slightest glimpse of satisfaction hiding in her cold eyes.

Henry had hurled all kinds of insults at her, calling her a stupid child, laughing at the folly of her actions. Even thought there were several meters between them she could detect the distinct smell of strong liquor radiating from his person.

Bash was to be charged with treason and to be executed in a fortnight if she didn't agree to marry Francis. The kings favorite son had fallen out of favor, the tables had turned on him in the blink of an eye. Mary had simply stood there in silence and nodded her head, not able to think of any arguments in Bash’s defense. Bash’s intentions had been sincere, he had simply wanted to help protect her from the dangerous lurking in the woods, not knowing that in helping her escape, he was costing Henry England, thereby committing treason against king and country.

A week ago, Mary would have been certain that Henry would never even think of hurting his favorite son, his own flesh and blood. After today she wasn't so sure anymore. The anger and hatred in the king’s expressions as he had issued his sentence, had left no room for any feelings of compassion towards his eldest son. Most likely Cathrin had fueled that anger on her behalf as well. She had never taken a liking to the king’s bastard, the living and breathing reminder of his indiscretions.

She was at a loss, what was she supposed to do? The king was making her choose, forcing her to choose one of his sons, killing the other in return. Marrying Francis would result in his certain death, she was sure of it, and not marrying him would cause Bash to loose his head. How was anyone supposed to make that choice?

Yes, Francis was the love of her live, her best friend, her save harbor, the one person in the world she could entrust with anything. Except for this one thing, she would have to carry the burden of the prophecy on her own. She dared not even play with the idea of telling him of his predicted fait. No matter how hard it would be to keep this one thing from him, it had to be done.

But Bash was one of her closest friends, the person that would take her riding while Francis spent hours talking politics with his father and strategizing with their advisers. Bash would make her laugh, telling her and her ladies stories of his adventures in the woods. He was the charming big brother she never had. She cared for him deeply and bearing the guilt of his death was unthinkable to her.

She must have sat there in her tub for hours trying to think of a solution that would keep both Francis and Bash alive. The water going colder on her skin, she unsuccessfully dosed off, the streaks her tears had left behind still evident on her puffy cheeks.

-

„Mary, Mary, wake up! Mary, dear, you can’t stay here, the cold water will make you sick“, Greer’s concerned voice was pulling her out of a dreamless sleep. Her eyes strained at the effort to open them and her mind was feeling foggy.

Greer and Lola helped her from the water, practically lifting her out of the tub like a helpless babe, while Kenna was wrapping her body in a thick robe and her wet hair in a towel. The three of them carried their queen back to her bed, for Mary barely had enough strength left in her to keep her eyes from falling shut again.

A maid must have lit a fire in her chambers, trying to keep the night’s chill at bay. It filled the room with a comforting warmth, making Mary’s head feel drowsy. When she was finally wrapped in her night gown and safely tucked under the warm and heavy covers of her bed, Kenna was whispering her good night, promising to check on her in the morning.

She was alone once more, only the light crackling of the fire breaking the silence around her. Her thoughts would have been filled with pictures of a dead Francis, Bash without his head if it wasn’t for the fatigue overtaking her body, forcing her mind into a restless sleep.

-

‘Boom, boom’ they were more blows then knocks, ringing through her room, making her shoot up in bed, suddenly wide awake. The room was cold again, the warmth of the fire long gone and only the faint silver glimmer, radiating from the moon, lighting her room, allowing her tired eyes to take in her surroundings. The banging wouldn’t stop, growing only more intent with each stroke.

She was confused, her guards were posted outside her door at all times and would have surely stopped any unwanted intruders from bashing against her door. The knocks weren't coming from the door however, they initiated on the other side of her room.

It came back to her in the blink of an eye. While Sophie, her maid, had been busy pouring her bath, she had remembered the door leading to the hidden passage ways. Francis and she had used them to sneak into each other’s rooms at night, unnoticed. She had been certain that he would use them again. She couldn't allow it, she wouldn't let herself be alone in the same room as Francis. He would get to her and she would forget all her reasons for leaving him with one look into his deep blue eyes, loosing herself in his gaze. So she had taken action, pulling one of her heavy wooden chairs in front of the door, keeping out any unwanted nightly visitors. It had taken her several minutes to move the heavy thing into position, making sure that the door was securely barred.

It seemed she had been right in her assumptions concerning Francis intent to see her again. Slowly moving closer to the source of the noise, her bare feet recoiling at the icy touch of the cold floor tiles, she could make out the sound of his breathing, heavy from the labor, against the door.

„Francis, please stop“ this time her voice sounded broken and she was simply to tired to hide the pleading in her words.

„Mary“ the hammering on the other side of the door halted, his voice barely more than a whisper „Please let me talk to you, you can’t do this to me!“

She could clearly hear the desperation in his voice.

„Why are you doing this Mary? Please, my father will kill Bash because you refuse to marry me. You are destroying everything we had! Please just open the door and let me talk to you!“

Her heart was hammering in her chest and her stomach was tightening up again. She couldn't do this, she so desperately wanted to open the door and fall into his arms, feel his embrace, taking in his smell and knowing that they were save in each other’s arms. But they weren’t, he would die and she would never let that happen. She had to stay strong, she had to find a way to keep him distant, to make him leave her, however much it would hurt, it had to be done.

Lifting her head, she answered, as regally as her exhausted body wood allow it.

„It is over Francis, I’ve said everything there is to be said. Good night.“ It was a lie of course and judging by the silence on the other side, her words had had their desired effect.

His next words were barely audible and she could hear the tears choking his voice, his breath growing ragged

„Mary please, I love you!“

In turn she could feel her tears, burning hot on her cheeks, and she had to muffle a sob, pressing the silk sleeve of heir night gown to her quivering lips.

Minutes passed before she heard his footsteps, finally retreating back to his rooms. She let out a shaky breath.

„I love you too!“ she whispered to the cold empty room.

Chapter Text

Mary woke to Greer’s gentle hand on her shoulder the next morning, surprisingly relaxed. Her head didn't hurt anymore and the dark circle beneath her eyes had nearly vanished completely. Stretching her muscles and arching her back, she sat up in bed, a genuine smile on her lips when her ladies helped her dress.

„Mary, might I ask you something?“, Kenna’s voice was kind but this wasn't a demand to be ignored.

„I won’t be able to stop you, now will I?“, Mary smiled.

„Have you told Francis why?“

„I …“ her voice faltered, her eyebrows furrowing slightly „ I can’t, I can’t tell him. If he knew he'd wear me down as long as need be, convincing me of the falsehood of the prophecy. I couldn’t …“

„But doesn’t he deserve to know?“ Lola suddenly blurted out, interrupting her queen mid sentence „He loves you Mary, he really does and now he thinks the feeling isn't mutual!“ challenging Mary with those tough grey eyes of hers. „He thinks you ran off with his brother on your wedding day, betraying his trust! You hurt him Mary, and he deserves an explanation.“ Lola finished in a determined tone.

There was a lot of truth in Lola’s words, she knew that. She was fully aware of what she had done to Francis, how she had shattered his heart into a thousand pieces. The hurt in his eyes when he had looked at her the day before had been agonizing and she just wanted it to stop, to go back in time to a happier place.

„Lola, that wasn’t kind“, Greer scolded her.

„But she needs someone to tell her the damage she has caused! He thinks she wanted to elope with his brother, his best friend.“

„I know!“ Mary shot Lola a warning look „I know what I've done, thank you very much.“

„Oh Mary“, Greer embraced her and wiped away a stray tear that had escaped Mary’s eye.

Did Francis really assume that she had run from him to marry his brother, did he really think her that cruel? Maybe Lola was right, she definitely owed him an explanation. She couldn't give him the one thing he so desperately desired and she had lied to him. In some ways that part was even worse. He was the one person she could have always been totally honest with, the one person that would have always heard her out, never mocking her for her words. Lying to him just felt so utterly wrong and unnatural.

She had to make him understand though that she couldn't marry him, not in this life. But he wouldn't get it, he wouldn't be able to comprehend why she loved him and still wouldn't become his wife. Lying to him was the only way, as much as it pained her to acknowledge that. She had to convince him that she no longer loved him, breaking his already shattered heart even further.

„He thinks I love Bash?“ Mary glares at Lola „How can you know?“

„It’s not really a secret, the whole castle is gossiping about the young queen that that ran off with a bastard at her side“ Lola offered, her voice kinder than before.

Mary was gaping at her, did people really think so low of her? She knew her disappearance must have looked bad but it wasn't until know that she conceived of how utterly stupid and childish her actions must have seemed. The Scottish queen, promised to the dauphin of France, eloping with his older bastard born brother.

A small laugh, derived of all humor, escaped her throat. But that was just it, she was betrothed to the dauphin, the future king, to Francis. How hadn't she thought of this before, it seemed to be so glaringly obvious to everyone else. She could marry Bash, the dauphin’s elder brother.

He was illegitimate of course, but bastards were being legitimized all over Europe. In England, the bastard Elizabeth might even become the next queen.

It wouldn't be easy, convincing Henry to legitimize his first born. Since Bash’s mother, the Kings mistress of over two decades ago, Diane des Portiers, had died on the birthing bed, all that had to be done was proof that she was had been married to Henry before Bash’s birth. There would be no need to annul the king’s current marriage to Cathrin, and Francis and his younger brothers would simply move back in the line of succession.

„Then I shall marry Bash.“ she exclaimed after several moments of silence, garnering looks of shock and bewilderment from her ladies.

„You can’t seriously mean that.“ Kenna gasped.

„But I do. Henry will get his claim to the English throne, and neither Bash nor Francis will have to die in the process!“ there was a triumphant smile on her lips.

She rose from the cushioned couch she had been resting on, striding across the room, her determination rising with every step. She had found a solution to a problem she had deemed impossible. And for the first time in days she felt strong, truly like the queen she was born to be.

Greer was the first to recover from the shock of what she had just told them, snatching Mary’s delicate crown from one of the dressing tables, carefully arranging it upon her queen’s head.

„Well if you are certain, you better make sure to convince the king“, Greer signaled the guards to open the door, letting their queen through.

Lola and Kenna were still staring at Mary with incredulousness but quickly made sure to follow their queen after Greer shot them a warning look.

-

„You want me to do what?“ Henry’s voice bellowed at her, they were in a private audience.

„Francis is my rightful heir, he has been groomed to follow me on the throne since the day of his birth. Legitimizing a bastard son would take the Vatican’s approval and you must know how difficult these things are to achieve, the pope is a short tempered man. And to what end? There is nothing wrong with Francis and I thought you had taken a certain liking to him?“

Mary blushed at his last words but kept her gaze steady, she would not give in and she had not yet played her trump card.

„Why I can’t marry Francis mustn’t concern you. You want England, yes? And this is my condition.“

At Henry’s look of retreat, in response to her words, she felt a surge of power shoot through her veins, it was intoxicating. This must be how it felt to be a ruler, to wield power so great, it could set the course of nations. The corners of her lips twitched, a smirk in her gaze as she challenged the French king.

„If this is your final word, I will consider your most gracious offer, Mary.“ he replied after a few moments of careful consideration. He bowed slightly before her and she knew she had won.

„Thank you, your Majesty.“, she curtsied before him, averting her gaze and finally took her leave.

On the way back to her chambers, her whole body felt lighter, a heavy weight having finally been lifted. She practically had to stop herself from skipping back to her rooms.

-

Her feelings of relief and victory were however short lived. The smile vanishing from her lips upon reaching her chamber’s door. The guards’ guilty faces gave it away in a heartbeat.

„Your grace, we tried to stop him, but the … the dauphin, he insisted“, the older man stuttered, his face taking on an alarming shade of scarlet.

She knew, she had expected this. After last night’s confrontation, he would return, trying a different approach to force her to speak. He had always been relentless when going after things important to him, a quality she had so admired. He would fight for their love, till death if necessary. That exactly was the problem. No matter how great their love was, his death was not a price she was willing to pay for it.

She straightened herself up, drawing in air, and consciously breathed out.

The doors flew open and there he was.

Could he already know, had the king already sent word, telling him of her actions? His eyes were staring at her, cold and abrasive, challenging her. He looked nothing like the radiant prince she had grown up with. His blond locks were pale and flat, the skin around his eyes reddened and it was obvious he hadn't shaved in days.

Unlike their last encounter she held his gaze, waiting for him to speak.

„I had thought to find you in your chambers, but you weren't here, so I waited.“ he sounded surprisingly steady and she was utterly perplexed by the triviality of his statement.

He had expected to find her in her chambers, not aware of her talk with his father in the throne room. He did not yet know of her plans to marry Bash and she would keep it that way. Telling him would only make this harder.

„I had business to attend to.“ it felt so strange, the way they talked was so foreign, like two distant acquaintances relying on court etiquette for conversation.

There was an awkward pause and he continued to stare at her with piercing eyes. Maybe having realized that where screaming at her in the middle of the night had failed at making her open up to him, he had retorted to using silence, forcing her to talk.

When Mary couldn't bare it any longer she gave in, breaking the silence.

„Why are you here, Francis?“

„You know why. You owe me an explanation.“

„I have already told you. I can not marry you, the pressure it puts on me, on Scotland, it is too high.“

„I don’t believe you!“

„Well, what other choice do you have?“

„You’re right Mary, I don’t have a choice, you never gave me one!“ his voice grew louder, his fists clenched. Taking two steps towards her, he closed the distance between them and she could feel the familiar warmth of his body so close to hers, making her skin tingle in anticipation. His face was so close to hers, too close. She could smell him, he smelled like Francis, so comforting and familiar.

„I love you Mary. I love you and there is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for that love. I would die if it meant you'd live.“

She flinched back at his last words, the mention of his sacrifice too much. He didn't know what he was saying, willingly giving his life for hers. She didn't want it. He wouldn't understand that she couldn't imagine living in a world where his body was cold to her touch, buried beneath the earth. A distant Francis was better than a dead one, she decided.

„I know.“ was all that she could muster. He was close enough for his breath to tickle her skin, sending shiver down her spine.

„That is precisely why this can never work, Francis!“ she willed herself to conceal the sadness in her words.

„I don’t … What is that even supposed to mean?“

„I don’t love you Francis, not the way you love me!“ There it was, the lie stung on her tongue like poison as she willed herself to spew out the dreaded words. She felt so guilty, a sick feeling settling in her gut.

She could see the impact of her words in his expression. His mouth fell open, his features contorted, the hurt blatantly obvious in his eyes. His cold facade crumbling. He had been angry at her before, for closing herself off from him, she had felt it. But this was worse, his anger had turned into a sickening blend of misery, desperation and hurt.

She had done it, she had finally broken him. It made her feel sick, her lungs deprived of all oxygen, her stomach ready to throw up.

The tears glistened in his eyes, his clenched fists shaking. His breath came out ragged, his shoulders tightening up and he looked like he wanted to punch something, someone. Her words had pierced his heart like a sharp dagger, stabbed between his ribs. But just like a wounded wolf, his brief moment of weakness was quickly overcome by the instinct to stay alive, to attack back in one last act of desperation.

He reached for her face, his touch rough on her soft skin, and before she could react, pressed his lips to hers. The anger and force taking her by surprise, as he compelled her lips to part, darting his tongue out. And she obliged, her body betraying her mind, she gave into him, returning his kiss with full force. Her fingers curled in his hair, pulling him closer to her, craving the feeling of his body pressed against hers.

All the desperation and pain she felt, the thought of this being their last kiss, the fear of loosing him she laid it all bare before him. In return, she could taste the anger and hurt on him, the ways his lips desperately moved against hers, catching her lower lip between his teeth and biting down. The flash of pain rushing through her system was quickly drowned out in the heat of her own passion. Her mind went blank, her body eagerly responding to his touch.

Suddenly he was gone, his lips disappearing from hers, sucking all of the oxygen out of her lungs. His body retreated and his arms fell from her face. She had to stop herself, her body instinctively wanting to follow his, to not loose his touch.

He glared at her, his voice turning to ice.

„You can’t seriously think, I would ever believe that!“ with that, he turned to the door and vanished in the hall way, leaving her confused and shuddering at the sudden lost of his warm body against hers.

She desperately wrapped her arms around her own body, trying to comfort herself. He knew she had lied to him, she was certain. The kiss and her reaction, must have made it glaringly obvious.

Her mind was racing, she could still feel his touch on her skin. The memory of his soft hair between her fingers, the pressure of his lips against hers, still vivid in her mind.

However much she willed herself to forget him, she couldn't denied the effect he had on her. He simply had to look at her for her cheeks to blush, his smile making her feel alive. No matter how far she pushed him away, she would always love him, part of her heart would always be his. And she cursed herself for that.

He could be a million miles away, happy in another’s arms, estranged to her touch and she still wouldn't be able to forget him, to shut him out of her mind completely. But that was the whole point off all of this, wasn't it. He would be happy somewhere else, anywhere else but here, at her side. They would both learn to care for other people, learn to be happy elsewhere and build a life apart from one another. The thought pained her. She had chosen this path for them and it hurt to admit what letting him go actually meant. She would never be able to love anyone else as completely and fully, as she did Francis, she was sure of it.

Their love was an extraordinary one but it was never meant to last.

Chapter Text

4.

The liquor burned his throat, filling his stomach. He could feel his body reacting to the rush of alcohol entering his bloodstream. On unsteady legs he swayed on the spot, his drunken laughter echoing throughout the room.

Father wouldn't be pleased if he saw him in such a state of drunkenness. A hoarse laugh escaped his throat, the liquor only seaming to emphasize the weight of the betrayal. His father no longer cared what he did. He had denounced him, had degraded the dauphin, his once so golden son.

He could still hear his mother’s words ringing in his head. „He is legitimizing the Bastard!“ She had been furious, broken porcelain had scattered the floor and the daggers in her eyes had been ready to kill. He was certain that if the king’s guards hadn't restrained her, she might have actually strangled Henry right then and there.

He had always envied his elder brother for his freedom, to go and do as he pleased. Wasn’t that supposed to be his role now? The king definitely disagreed. With his first words directed towards Francis, he had ordered him to stay at the castle.

He was to attend the royal wedding of the dauphin of France to the young queen of Scots, an alliance that would change Europe for centuries to come. Forcing him to witness Mary finding her happiness in the arms of his brother. Of course Henry wouldn't want to wast any time securing his claim to the English throne after Mary had so graciously presented it to him on a silver platter. And if denouncing Francis’ birthright was the price, Henry wouldn't even flinch. Who cared about family when you have power, not that he had ever had much of a family to begin with. His father had had a new mistress in his bed every week and his mother would, in her fury, come up with new ways to rid herself of the girls, only further fueling Henry’s rage.

In a way he now actually felt petty for his big brother. His mother would find away to kill him or die trying, he was certain. But that was none of his concern anymore. Father would have to find a way to tame his queen and caging her up like a wild beast was only a temporary fix.

They could all go to hell, for all that he was concerned, his dearest brother, an usurper, his loving father, a parent no more. And her, he had given her everything, had entrusted her with his heart and where had that gotten him. She had thrown it all away in the blink of an eye.

His face grimaced at the thought of her betrayal. He shook his head, sending his messy golden curls flying around him. Pictures of her beautiful face, her big brown eyes looking directly at him swam before his eyes. Suddenly she was riding away with Bash by her side and the sound of her telling him that she didn't love him anymore drowned out even the sound of his own pulse.
The tears welled in his eyes. Simultaneously the anger brewing in the depths of his stomach threatened to spill over. Confused over the fury and hurt he was feeling, he took another long sip, the liquor trickling down his throat, and once more the burning sensation, it left behind, drowned out any other feelings, numbing his mind.

He would never be able to stop loving her but the alcohol certainly helped dull the pain of his broken heart. Wasn’t that supposed to be his job, the shining dauphin, breaking girls’ hearts by the dozen. But here he was, an insignificant heartbroken prince. The only girl he had ever loved, every truly longed for, had broken him. He could practically hear the gods laughing.

The alcohol in his system making it increasingly harder to form a coherent thought, he stumbled back on his bed, still clutching his bottle in one hand. A small part of him was disgusted at how pathetic he must look. There where tears falling from his red eyes, their salty taste mixing with the burning liquor on his tongue.

In a feeble attempt to dry his eyes, he clumsily tipped over the bottle in his hand, spilling the remainder of it’s contents over his embellished jacket. He didn’t envy the servant that would have the misfortunate task of waking the drunken prince the next morning, cleaning up this mess.

Shifting in and out of consciousness, sleep finally took over his alcohol soaked mind.

-

Their paths barely crossed over the course of the following weeks. He deliberately tried his best to avoid seeing her. Her face, haunting his dreams each night, was already too much too handle.

Since the vatican had agreed to legitimize Bash mere weeks after Henry’s initial request, the planning for the upcoming wedding was in full force. Mary spent her days, sorting out seating charts, signing invitations and picking out dresses.

She seamed happy, always smiling, happily chatting with the courtiers. Everyone was enchanted by their future queen. Bash happily played his part as well, trying his best to accustom himself to the daily tasks of a future king.

Francis could see the stress in his tense body. Bash had spent his whole life hunting, enjoying himself, not once having to think about politics. That had been Francis’ role, since his 12th birthday, most days had been spent in stuffy rooms with his fathers advisors discussing matters of state. In a way it amused him to see Bash struggling with his new life, Francis’ life.

Since Bash’s legitimization came through, people practically ignored Francis. No one cared for favors with one of the many princes, the French crown out of his reach. He wasn't used to spending hours on end in his chambers all by himself without his father calling for him to attend meetings. Sleeping till early noon, he tried his best to keep his mind occupied with reading or writing, without much success. However hard he tried, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to Mary.

Was she happy with his brother, did she even miss him, think about him before falling asleep? What had he done wrong, everything had seamed so perfect and then she was gone and when she returned her eyes didn't look at him in the same way anymore.

He had told her, after the last kiss they had shared, that he didn't believe her telling him that she no longer loved him. But he wasn’t so sure anymore. He had felt her desire when she had returned his kiss, but her eyes had remained cold. Not like the warm brown eyes he had first fallen in love with. She had changed, her skin had grown paler and her dresses darker in colour and more concealing in cut.

Since that incident, whenever he did happen to cross paths with her, she would ignore him completely for the most part. He would freeze in place upon noticing her and would simply stare at her. She would catch him staring and would throw him a warning look, forcing him to avert his eyes. He wasn't quite able to determine wether the looks she gave him where just cold and abrasive or if there was also a hint of disgust hiding in her distant eyes.

He knew that she must have noticed by now. The stench of alcohol followed him everywhere, lingered on his cloths and evaporating from his throat with every breath. He had seen the other courtiers give him looks of disgust, and one of Mary’s ladies, it must have been Kenna, he couldn't quite tell them apart with the alcohol numbing his brain, had actually pulled him aside once.

Her cat shaped eyes had stared at him with such force, her anger evident in her ragged breaths. Her voice had been cold but he thought to have detected a hint of understanding and kindness in her words

„I know Mary hurt you. But that doesn’t give you the excuse to throw yourself away completely! Do you understand me, Francis?“

Her eyes had searched his face for any sign of a reaction and had found none. He had just stood there, unmoving, gaping at her, so she had turned on her heels rushing away from him with an audible groan.

He knew that letting himself go, giving into the bottle each night, wasn't doing him any good. But it was the only way to forget her for a while. He desperately needed to move on, to get away from her. He was actually anticipating the wedding, as it meant that he would finally be able to leave court. He didn't yet know where he would go but guessed that Paris would be a good start. The city was busy, buzzing with people from all over Europe, a welcome distraction.

He could start fresh, find new friends away from court, try and build a life for himself without her in it. The thought seamed impossible, ever since her return to court half a year ago, he had always seen his future tied to hers, his children had her strong eyes and dark hair. He could see himself falling asleep next to her warmth every night, argue politics and visit Scotland together. He would loose himself in those wishful thoughts each night before falling asleep to dreams filled with her eyes staring at him, her voice whispering in his ears.

-

When the day of the wedding finally arrived, all of his things were already neatly packed away, awaiting his departure later that day. He must attend the wedding and the following celebrations as by his fathers request. But he would stay not a minute longer, longing to escape her presence after a month of silent torture.

As a result of the constant pain, he could feel himself hardening. The sight of her still pulled at his bruised heart mercilessly but he forced himself to stay strong and, like her, put on a brave and cold facade. He still drank, but with his heart hardening he found that he gradually needed less and less liquor to dull his senses when around her.

His blond curls were neatly brushed and he was dressed all in black, only minor golden embellishments on his collar.

The wedding would be held in the castle’s chapel, an enormous ornamented hall connected to the east wing. The castle was overflowing with people, high lords and ladies from every corner of France, and Scotland, had arrived in the previous days, eagerly awaiting the ceremony.

There was a knock on his door and Leith entered, bottle in hand.

After his father’s, Lord Bayard’s, early death, he had inherited the family title and fortune, granting him a small castle and estate in the Paris region. Francis had found him easy to talk to and a friendship had quickly blossomed between the two men. Leith had agreed to accompany Francis on his travels to Paris. He too was not yet certain of his purpose in this world and too young to marry and tie himself down with a wife and family.

Francis envied his carefree life and even love wise Leith was a lucky man. Greer, another of Mary’s ladies, pretty blond hair and a nice figure, had taken a liking to the young lord. The two had snuck away on secret picnics, shared dances at every ball and just seemed way to happy compared to Francis’ own dark and empty love life. He would playfully tease Leith, making snarky comments when he saw his friend’s gaze drifting towards Greer.

„To take you mind of things before the ceremony, my friend.“ Leith grinned, waving the bottle before Francis’s eyes. He poured them each a glass and they clinked glasses, savoring the taste of the deep and sweet wine on their tongues.

Leith started telling him about all the things to do in Paris and Francis only listened with half an ear, his thoughts inadvertently drifting back to Mary. After today, there would be no going back, she would be married to his brother, would bear his children, sleep in his bed, while he would leave court, a home to him for nearly twenty years, his entire life, to try and find happiness elsewhere.

All too soon it was time for them to make their way to the chapel. They joined the stream of excitedly chatting people upon entering the east wing, neither uttering a word to the other. Leith knew what burden this wedding was on the prince’s shoulders and respected his friend’s absent mind.

There were flowers draped over the wooden ornaments and red roses filled the air with their sweet sent. They took their seats in the second row, just behind the king and queen, his parents. His mother had a big smile plastered upon her face but he only new too well how good she had gotten at playing pretend in front of the court. He kissed her cheeks, nodding and bowing before his father, who seemed genuinely happy at finally securing his grip on the Scottish queen and her English claim.

Everyone took their seats, the anticipation and excitement thick in the air. Bash stood in front of the altar, alone, his eyes fixed on the entrance, where Mary was bound to appear any second. His brother seamed happy, he decided. And why wouldn't he be. He had always had his eye on Mary and now that he was out of the way, there was nothing stopping Bash’s happiness with her. And from what Francis had witnessed the past weeks, she seemed to reciprocate Bash’s feelings. There hadn't been any inappropriate outbursts of affection between the two, but he had seen them kiss and smile at the sight of each other. And only god knew what happened between them in private.

He had to tear himself away, getting lost in his train of thought that would surely end in an unneeded rush of confused emotions. The last thing he need right now, was to be seen with tears in his eyes on her wedding day.

He clenched and unclenched his jaw in a conscious effort to clear his mind, his fingers playing with the hem of his jacket.

The music sounded, everybody rose and there she was. Through the sea of people he could already glimpse her radiant figure, her gown the color of fresh snow. Her hair was pulled up in an overcomplicated knot, a thin veil hiding her features. She seamed so radiant, her figure tall and prideful. She elegantly floated down the aisle in tact with the music, her three ladies following a few steps behind.

He could see her smile behind the wisp of fabric covering her face, her gaze focused on his brother, who, no doubt, was smiling back at her. But Francis couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes from her, drinking in the sight of her, savoring the memory of her warm smile and happy eyes.

He felt a rush of warmth engulfing his body, his mind lost.

And for one small moment, she was only a few rows away from him, he was sure that her eyes darted away from his brother, and for a moment focused on his blue ones. There it was. He could clearly detect a hint of sadness in her round brown eyes as her gaze lingered on him and he felt his heart drop in his chest, the air rushing out of his lungs.

But then she passed him and the moment was gone, his mind reeling, trying to decipher the look she had gifted him. He must have stayed like that for a while, for after several minutes, Leith gently gave him a nudge in his side with his elbow, bringing him back into the present.

The priest talked for what felt like hours, his monolog switching from French to Latin and back again. When they finally exchanged their vows and Bash lifted the veil from her face, Francis could feel his fingers curling into fists next to his body. Their lips barely touched when Bash brought his face to hers but Francis still felt a sting of anger and jealousy rushing through him.

The sight of someone, that wasn't him, touching Mary in such a way, made his teeth clench and his shoulders tense up.

Chapter Text

5.

The joyful tunes of violins and a loud cheer from the crowd welcomed them at their reception. Her hand in Bash’s, a huge smile plastered across her face as she waved at the courtiers. Her emotions were running high, after their vows had been exchanged and the priest had declared them husband and wife, the dauphin and the dauphine of France, they had been greeted by a waving and screaming mob of servants, maids and kitchen boys, outside the chapel. Making their way through the east wing to the big hall, people were shouting congratulations, blessing them with many children for the future.

It was done, she was married at last, and if it hadn't been for Francis’s face in the crowd, staring at her, it would have been the wedding of her dreams, marrying the future king of France.

She had glimpsed him in the chapel on her way down the aisle and for one very short moment she had felt like they were alone, just him and her, his blue eyes looking straight into her brown ones. Her pulse had quickened and a slight flush had rushed into her cheeks. But she had stopped herself in an instant, redirecting her gaze towards her now husband.

Bash was all she could have wished for in a husband, he was kind, young, caring and her best friend. Frankly, she could have done a lot worse. Memories of Tomas, the Portuguese bastard, bellowing commands at her, flashed through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. She cared for Bash, and she could learn to love him. They would share a good and long life together, ruling France and Scotland side by side until their children would succeed them. Bash was perfect in every way, he was tall and handsome with his dark short hair and impossibly green eyes, he had a good heart and could make her laugh.

But he wasn't Francis. She hated admitting it, but no one could ever measure up to him. He was the one person that could make her heart race, set her skin aflame with his touch. Her lips longed for his kisses, as she would fall asleep thinking of his eyes, the colour of the sky, and his sun kissed curls. The happiness they had once shared, months ago, seemed so distant and his absence made her heart ache. She loved him, she was married to another man, and she would always love him.

She knew that she would have to let him go, accept that they could never share a life together.

Once Francis left court, she would do her best to forget him. Bury the memory of his blue eyes, gazing at her, deep down, locking away her love for him in the abyss of her bruised heart. He would never truly leave her, but she would carry his memory inside of her, safely hidden away, out of sight. His love had left a mark on her, a mark she could hide and conceal, but never fully remove.

She would have a family with Bash, children she could care for and she had her friends, her loyal ladies. Still, she could feel the hole in her heart, the part of her that would always belong to Francis. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself of the opposite, the day of her marriage to another man would be a happy and joyful day but it was simultaneously the day she had to let go of her love for him completely.

Before she could sink even deeper into though, Henry’s voice boomed in her ear, as he stood right beside her, announcing the first dance of the bride and groom.

Dancing music set in and Bash bowed before her, offering his hand, which she accepted, bowing herself. They started out slow, moving in gracious circles around one another, their palms barely touching. As the music grew, caring them further and further on, she felt his firm hands on her waste, raising her light body up into a lift, his kind green eyes intently focused on her face. They spun through the room, her white dress dancing through the air behind them.

Her body relaxing in Bash’s hands, she lost herself in the movement and music, until a flutter in her peripheral vision commanded her attention. Her eyes looked upwards and her mouth opened slightly as the soft white feathers fell around her.

The raining feathers, Elizabeth’s wedding, the deja vu jolted through her body. The memories kicked in instantly and time seemed to slow for a moment.

She was dancing with her ladies, spinning in circles with Lola, their hands intertwined and their feet bare, as their shoes lay forgotten in a corner. Suddenly she was dancing on her own, moving in circles as she raised her hands to towards the ceiling, squeals of joy echoing from her lungs. Her whole face was flushed, her cheeks pink and her untamed long hair bubbling around her head, blurring her vision.

A tickling sensation on the bare skin of her arms, forced her gaze upwards. A cloud of white feathers falling from above and she could hear the laughter of children ringing in her ears.

„Francis is a girl’s name.“ she had whispered to him in a strong Scottish accent, as a giggle escaped her throat. As pay back he had snatched one of the pillows from the bed, tossing it in her direction. But she had ducked just in time, the pillow striking against the wooden bedpost showering them both in feathers. Soon more pillows had been flying through the air, their laughter filling the room. He had shaken his head, sending his blond curls and feathers flying everywhere and she had pressed her hands to her mouth, muffling a joyous squeal, her brown eyes glowing.

She turned, her mouth slightly open, gasping for air and her heart had hammered in her chest.

She could feel his gaze on her.

And when she looked up, blue eyes met brown.

Everything else fell away, Bash’s hands on her waist, the music, the people around them, they were all gone. Once more it was just him and her, and they could both feel the pull in their hearts.

For just that moment, all the sorrow and heartbreak was forgotten, their hearts intact again, beating in union. His blue eyes were glistening with love as they looked into hers, his smile filling her body with warmth. Her skin tingled and she could almost feel his touch. The way he had pulled her into his arms and held her close, making her feel save, all of her worries erased. His lips on hers and she could taste him as her hands curled into his soft hair. The sound of his steadily beating heart filled her ears and his familiar smell made her smile as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

She felt him pull away. As his arms left her body, she could feel the cold air harsh against her skin, her body protesting at the loss of his touch. When she looked up, the tears in his cold eyes were like an icy dagger in her heart. Her breath caught in her throat, her lungs deprived of all oxygen and her chest felt so incredibly tight. All the pain and hurt came rushing back in as she saw him turn away.

She blinked, and she was back in Bash’s arms again, the music drowning her ears and the loud voices of the people around them made her flinch. She could glimpse a wisp of blond hair disappearing in the sea of people and he was gone.

It felt as if a part of her was missing and she closed her eyes, hiding her tears as Bash’s strong hold on her waist kept her upright. She let his arms guide her body through the rest of their dance as her mind still lingered on the smile on Francis’ face. She would cherish this moment, forever keep it save, try and mend the hole in her heart, he had left her with.

-

The festivities continued with a six course banquet as roasted piglets, savory stews and layered cakes were carried in by the servants. Soon the high lords and ladies engaged in bustling conversations, the freely flowing wine loosening the strings of the normally tight corset of rules and good manners at French court. Laughter filled the hall, drunken lords boasting stories and ladies letting out high pitched giggles in response.

Mary’s smile stayed on her lips for the rest of the evening, making light conversation with various lords and ladies, thanking them for their congratulations and kind gifts. Bash and some of the other nobel lords each got their turn, dancing with the glowing bride, even the king offered her his hand, which she graciously accepted. She would be forced to dance with Francis at some point, her heart heavy at the thought. She hadn't seen him since the first dance as he seemed to have retired to his chambers, and she was glad for it. Seeing him would instantly fill her with sorrow again and a bride ought to look happy on her wedding day.

In his stead, Leith, one of the smaller lords and one of Francis friends, she had seem them together on numerous occasions, appeared before her, bowing his head.

„The prince excuses himself, but he has sent me in his place to dance with our gorgeous future queen.“ There was a smirk playing on his lips as he smiled at her. He truly was a charming man and she certainly understood why Greer had taken such a liking to him.

They twirled through the room and before long the music paused and they both curtsied, Leith pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand. She was about to turn away from him, when he suddenly leaned closer, his voice a whisper in her ear.

„You have left him with a broken heart, you know that right? And the alcohol isn't helping him forget.“ He looked at her knowingly but before she had the chance to reply, he was gone, making his way through the crowd towards Greer.

She silently cursed him under her breath. How dared he? Did he really think she didn't know how much she had hurt Francis? And the last thing she had needed right now, after her wedding to a man that wasn't him, was a reminder of his shattered heart. Her chest felt tight, her breathing growing more labored. She knew how he must feel, as she herself grieved for his loss, but she had to keep her happy facade up, she was a married woman now, a promising future awaiting her.

Her hands started shaking ever so slightly and the sickening feeling in her stomach returned. Aches in her belly sometimes plagued her at night and she had found her appetite had decreased since her return to court. She would sit a breakfast and only needed to glimpse his blond locks in the distance, for her stomach to rebel at smell of the warm porridge she would try to force down her throat. His absence physically made her sick.

She turned a corner, leaving all the drunken laughter and music of the big hall as she entered the corridor. Her hands found the wall behind her and she let her body fall back, the hard stone keeping her upright as her knees started to waver. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, forcing herself to consciously pull in and release air from her lungs. She paused like that for a while, the feeling of the cold stone smooth against her trembling palms, her lungs laboring to escape the tight cage, her corset formed around her torso.

She had assumed to be alone in the corridor only the flickering light of the candles on the walls bearing witness to her moment of weakness. But she could hear multiple pairs of boots approaching from the other end of the hallway. Her eyes flew open and her breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing.

She could clearly make out his voice before he turned the corner.

„The carriage is ready, yes?“

A servant mumbled something incomprehensible in response.

„Good, good. Please fetch Lord Bayard, tell him that we are ready to depart.“ he ordered.

If she didn't know any better, she would have imagined he was Francis the dauphin again, ordering servants, just usual business. He sounded so normal, and why wouldn't he. It was selfish of her to assume that he would spend his days alone and depressed in his chambers after she had left him. Of course he would be talking to people, she saw him even laughing with Leith sometimes. And here he was, leaving, his carriage ready to depart.

She had known that he wouldn't stay, not wanting to linger. Of course she knew that, but it still pained her to admit that it hurt, more than she had expected, to see him actually leaving. It was silly of course, she had broken things off between them, destroyed what they had, and still, here she was, not wanting to accept that he would truly be gone after today.

When he turned the corner and finally came into view, she froze in place, lowering her eyes to the ground. It was foolish to think he would pass by without noticing her. Her white dress a sharp contrast on the dark wall behind her. And so he did, his steps halted and his eyes fixed on her figure. He quickly snapped out of it though, gesturing at the servants trailing after him before he turned to her again, his eyes cold.

When the servants’ steps had disappeared behind another corner, mixing with the noises escaping the big hall, he finally spoke.

„I would have thought to leave without you noticing, but clearly I can’t seam to escape your presence, your majesty.“ he slightly bowed his head before her, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

So that’s what they were now, nothing but two courtiers, mere formalities between them. Her heart plummeted at the thought. His voice was hoarse and abrasive, the gaze in his eyes unwavering as he addressed her.

„I … I am sorry.“ she lowered her eyes, her voice small.

„You, you are sorry?“ his voice mocked her „That is a bit thick, even for you.“ His eyes grew darker as he glared at her, the blue nearly gone completely.

She swallowed, trying to ignore the lump, forming in her throat. She knew she had deserved that, but it still pained her to hear him say it out loud. Her throat was closing up, the lump growing bigger, and she was nearly relieved as he continued, breaking the agonizing silence once more.

„You broke me Mary. You kicked me, when I was already down. You mocked my love for you. So understand, that a simple ‚I am sorry‘ does not make it ok.“

Each insult stung, like sharp daggers piercing her skin. Her chest tightened up again and she could feel the tears, forming in her eyes.

„I loved you Mary, and I paid the price. Forgive me if I’m not willing to stay around, witnessing your marital bliss and future children with my beloved brother. I love you, I always will in some way, but I wont torture myself, I deserve better.“ His voice was hard and unforgiving with a lingering hint of pain. Not a glimpse of the warmth she had seen only hours ago, when the feathers had rained upon them, remained in his eyes.

He was so close, she could feel his warm breath, without any detectable trace of alcohol, on her skin. She only had to extend her arm to touch him, instead she stayed in place, tightly wrapping her arms around her middle, suppressing the sickening feeling of her rebelling stomach.

A single tear escaped on her left cheek and before she could react, she felt his thumb on her skin, swiftly brushing away the tear.

„A bride ought not to cry on her wedding night.“ his hand lingered for a moment, making her heart beat even faster.

A small sob escaped her throat as he leaned in and placed a light kiss on her cheek. His touch leaving behind a burning sensation on her skin as he backed away, a faint smile playing on his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes.

„Goodbye Mary!“ with that he turned, hurrying along the corridor and finally disappearing around a corner.

A stray feather, which must have still been caught in his hair, was floating the through the air, just where he had stood only moments ago, before sadly collapsing before her feet, the air sucked out under it’s snow-white downs.

She felt as if all the oxygen had been pulled out of her lungs. Her head felt faint and dizzy, her trembling arms still snugly wrapped around her middle. A feeling of emptiness was taking over her body, he was gone, actually gone.

„Goodbye“ she whispered, finally willing herself to let go.

Chapter Text

6.

She was woken by Bash’s light snoring in her ear, his arm snuggly wrapped around her body, the sheets tangled between their legs.

It had become a routine. She would wake up in his arms, him still soundly asleep and for a faint moment each morning she would let her mind wander. Allowing herself to imagine that it was Francis’ arms, tightly wound around her body, his breathing on her skin. And each morning she would have to stop herself, shaking the thoughts from her mind as she gently folded her body out of Bash’s tight embrace without waking him.

He always looked so peaceful, so carefree. She envied him for that. She had her cheerful moments of course, but ever since their first night together she had never truly felt happy. There would always be the nagging thoughts in the back of her mind, especially in the mornings. And as if on cue, her stomached growled, the now familiar pain making her whole body tense as she sat up in bed. She felt a tingling sensation at the back of her throat and just in time she reached for her chamber pod, her stomach emptying it’s spare contents out of her mouth.

The noise must have woken her husband, as she could now feel him stir on the bed behind her, sleep still thick in his voice.

„Mary darling, are you alright?“, she could sense the sincerity in his voice as he placed his strong hands on her shoulder, forcing her body to relax.

„I … yes, I just feel a bit dizzy, is all.“ her voice was shaking and she cursed herself.

He had already looked at her with worry in his eyes whenever she had seen him these past week. She spent the majority of her time in her chambers, talking to her ladies or reading. Bash knew her too well to be fooled by fake smiles, he would instantly notice how her eyes always looked tired and her normally radiant skin had grown paler. So she tried to avoid him as much as possible, not wanting to further fuel his concern.

She let go of the chamber bod, her hands shaking slightly, he should have never seen her like this. She couldn't just blame her nausea on tiredness or a migraine, he would never believe her. His brows furrowed in concern, he reached for her arm, gently rubbing the back of her hand.

„I am worried, you really don’t look well.“ he gave her hand a light squeeze.

She let out a shaky breath. Why did he have to care so much, couldn't he for once be absent, ignorant to his wife sorrow. He loved her so much, whenever he looked at her, she could see it in his soft green eyes. She knew that she would never be able to fully reciprocate his feelings and the thought tugged at her already weakened heart.

She started on last attempt to calm his worry.

„Bash, really I am fine.“ her voice didn't sound convincing at all.

She felt another sharp pain in her stomach and instinctively her hands clutched her middle.

She could feel him move from the bed behind her, now positioning himself before her, his eyes determined.

„I love you, and I know you're still grieving from my brother. But please, let me help you.“ her hand was in his again and his face was mere inches away from hers.

She hated herself in that moment. It wasn't fair to Bash, she had forced him into this marriage, and he had so selflessly gone along with it. No matter how hard she tried she just couldn't give into him, entrust him with her heart.

„I will tell Nostradamus to check on you. You’ve looked so pail these past days and I want to be sure you are well.“ he kissed her cheek, forcing a smile on her lips.

For a moment she let her facade fall and gave into him, letting her face fall against his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat soothing her mind. He felt so familiar and yet, the way his arms were wrapped around her body, just didn't feel right.

It would be useless to argue with him. Nostradamus would come and tell her that she was simply tired and exhausted, which she already knew. Bash would be relieved and would hopefully stop worrying about her as much. She desperately needed room to breath again, without his watching eyes glued to her every move. She sighted, closing her eyes, his hand rubbing small circles on her back.

-

„Your majesty mustn't worry, you are in good health. A bit weak yes, but when your appetite comes back, your strength will return as well.“ Nostradamus’ deep voice was kind.

She was sitting in one of her heavy chairs next to the fire, her shoulders wrapped in a thin shawl. He had questioned her about her eating habits and the pains in her stomach.

„But I do have news for your grace,“ he smiled continuing „you are with child.“

She gaped at him, this was the last thing she had expected to come out of his mouth.

There was a life inside of her, she couldn't quite believe it. Yes, she had been married for over six weeks now but her body felt so weak. How could she nurture a child growing inside of her when she could barely feed her own body? Her hand wandered to her still flat stomach, acknowledging the presence of the live just beneath her skin.

„You are certain?“ her eyes looked at him, filled with doubt.

„Yes your majesty, very certain. The symptoms are definite, your sickness in the mornings, the loss of your appetite.“

„A child.“ she smiled.

This would be good for her. She could focus on the life inside her, willing herself to stay strong for the baby's sake. Bash would be so happy as well, she knew that he had always wanted children. She could already see him playing with their child, laughter filling the air, as she would sit back and watch, smiling.

They would have a family. She might not be able to give him her heart but she could give him this, a child. She could see her brown hair and his green eyes, the future king of France or queen of Scotland.

Her hands, which had been tightly knotted in her lap, relaxed and she could feel the oxygen filling her lungs with every breath. And for the first time since their wedding, she felt happy, dimples in her cheeks and her warm brown eyes filled with joy.

„Your majesty, there is one more thing.“ Nostradamus cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him.

„The baby should arrive before the midsummer festivities“

Mary was confused at what he wanted to tell her, midsummer was still half a year away.

„Your majesty …“ his eyes intently looked at her, clearly wanting to tell her something.

„What is it, you may speak freely.“ the confusion, she felt creeping up her body, mirroring in her words.

„Your majesty has been pregnant for at least three months.“ for such a big man, his voice sounded surprisingly small.

Her heartbeat quickened, as she took in of his words and why he had hesitated to tell her. What he was alluding to, it was treason, it could cost her her head.

Her eyes grew wide and all the oxygen suddenly rushed from her lungs, leaving her gasping for air as she tried to sort through all the thoughts drowning her mind.

She had been pregnant for over three months, but it couldn't be, could it? The panic pulsing through her veins, her chest tightening. It all made sense in a way, the pains in her stomach had plagued her long before her wedding night. But this couldn't be happening, she couldn't do this. The tears started to well and a strangled sob escaped her quivering lips.

„Thank you, Nostradamus,“ she sounded broken „You can not tell anyone what you have just told me, do you understand. No one can know, especially not Cathrine.“ She knew the court seer and physician had a close relationship with the queen, and if she should hear of this, Mary’s death warrant would be as good as signed.

„I understand, your majesty. As far as I am concerned, you are only two weeks into your second month and the child will be born early.“ he bowed, his shoulders hunched as he took his leave.

Her thoughts were racing, her chest suddenly feeling so small, a heavy weight pressing down on her lungs. Both hands now clutching her stomach, the tears smeared her powdered face, quiet sobs echoing from her throat.

The nights spent in bed with Francis flashed before her eyes, him cupping her belly and wishing for her to be pregnant. The joy in his words, the laughter they had shared, a happiness now long lost to her. They hadn’t been careful, so stupid and yet so innocent. In those moments she would have never once doubted her marriage to Francis, their shared future together.

After he had left court weeks ago, she had slowly come to terms that he would no longer be a part of her life, that she wouldn't ever lay eyes on him again. She still missed him dearly, his absence haunting her day and night, but she had finally accepted that he would never return, that she would never hear his voice or see his smile again. After spending nights, silently crying herself to sleep with Bash oblivious to the pain she had felt, she had finally found closure, had accepted her new future, a future without Francis at her side.

Now all of that was gone, the wall she had built up, protecting her heart, torn down by Nostradamus’ words. She was carrying his child, a part of him remaining in her body, his mark on her, the mark she could never remove, a baby in her belly.

The child, it would always remind her of him, she would have to look into his eyes, his face every day for the rest of her life. How was she ever supposed to forget him, to let him go like that? It seemed a cruel fate, spending her whole life, remembering the one thing she had wanted most, the one thing she could never have.

She prayed for the child to take after her, dark hair and brown eyes. If in half a year’s time she gave birth to a blonde and blue eyed baby, people would start to talk, suspicions would be raised, her head could end up on the chopping block.

She shook the thoughts from her head, she couldn't tell anyone, it was too dangerous. Though at the back of her mind a small part of her wished for the child to look like him, and if it meant her head, just to loose herself in those endless blue eyes one last time.

She would have to bear the weight of this secret all on her own, it was the price she had to pay for her and Francis’ foolishness, for his life.

-

She had dozed off, her hands still on her belly, her eyes reddened, when a knock on her door forced her from her sleep. She bid the person knocking to enter and Kenna, Greer and Lola appeared in the door.

She sat up, straightening her back, her hands wiping the sleep and leftover tears from her eyes.

„Bash told us to check on you.“ Greer was the first to speak.

„Mary, you look awful.“ Kenna decided, worry evident in her words.

„Is everything alright?“ Lola rushed to her side, taking her hand.

„Yes, I am alright, just tired.“ she offered her ladies a weak smile.

„Forgive me for saying so, but you really don't seem well, you have been so tired and absent these past days.“ Lola was looking at her with her big grey eyes, her brow furrowed in worry.

She gestured for them to sit down, clearing her throat before continuing.

„I am well, truly, more than well actually,“ her eyes glistened „I am pregnant.“

Her smile grew wider upon seeing her ladies’ reactions. Kenna and Lola gaped at her in disbelieve and Greer let out a squeal of excitement.

„But that is wonderful, I am so happy for you.“ nearly knocking all the air out of her, Greer pulled Mary into a crushing embrace.

„How long have you known?“ Kenna’s words mirrored Greer’s excitement.

„Nostradamus was just here, a few hours ago.“

„A little prince or princess, I can’t wait!“ Lola exclaimed.

„Have you already thought of names?“ Kenna beamed.

„It is still early, but I am sure you will help me with that task.“ she tried to tame her ladies’ excitement but couldn't help but smile at their joyful reactions.

They continued discussing baby names, the nursery and the new dresses that would have to be made, accommodating Mary’s growing belly.

She was so thankful for her ladies in that moment. They might not have always seen eye to eye with her on her past decisions but had always been there to support their queen. Not only out of duty, but friendship, making her laugh and raising her spirits when dark thoughts clouded her mind.

-

She was already dressed in her nightgown, resting on her side of the bed, when Bash returned. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his weary green eyes, his brown hair flat on his head. She greeted him with a smile, feeling a pang of guilt welling in her chest, upon looking at her husband. She would have to lie to him, and he could never know, never even begin to doubt the truthfulness of her words.

„You seem better darling.“ he cupped her face placing a kiss on her lips and she nodded.

„Yes, I am. Nostradamus has told me good news.“ a short pause, her heartbeat quickening „I am pregnant, Bash.“

„That is … that is amazing. I don't know what to say.“

She watched as his tired eyes, suddenly lit up and grew wide as his mouth fell slightly open.
A laugh escaped her upon seeing his reaction. Like Greer, he embraced her in a crushing hug and she nestled her face into the crook of his neck, taking in his so familiar sent. They would have a family together, her duty as a wife and queen fulfilled. They would have further children as well, she hoped, children that would truly be his.

Suddenly blue eyes appeared in her mind again, clouding her vision with tears as she held onto Bash’s warm body. Francis could never know, he would never be able to be a father to the child in her belly. It pained her to think of him but how was she supposed to let him go, when a physical part of him, the child growing inside of her, would always be a living reminder of his lost presence.

When Bash pulled back, finally allowing her to breath again, she played the tears in her eyes off as byproducts of her immense joy. She cupped her husband’s face with her left hand, the stubble of his beard leaving a tingling sensation on her smooth skin, before turning around and placing her head on her pillow, her eyes falling shut.

When he joined her under the covers she was already half a sleep, piercing blue eyes following her into her dreams.

Chapter Text

7.

She tried to keep herself occupied, to keep her mind from wandering to places she ought not to let herself revisit. There would always be a smile on her lips when greeting courtiers or assuring her husband all was well. In some moments she could even convince herself that the happy expression on her face was genuine, that she truly felt happy inside. Then her hands would absentmindedly wander to her expanding belly, reminding her of all the things she so desperately longed to forget. All the memories, safely sorted away in the back of her mind, would come rushing back in, flooding her thoughts. It was all she could muster in these moments, to keep her facade up, to hide her trembling hands and conceal the pain in her shimmering brown eyes.

She could never quite tell if Bash knew how tormented his wife felt, what was truly hiding behind her smile. He had been so occupied the past weeks, and when he had returned to their rooms late at night, she would already be soundly asleep, curled up under multiple blankets.

-

He now slowly started to grasp what it meant to be the King of France, to rule a nation. Their would be hours spent discussing boarder control, riots between catholics and protestants or the distribution of their scares resources, with the council’s advisers. His back would hurt after spending too much time bending over maps, moving different pieces around the table, mimicking their troops’ movements. The English were relentless in their advances against Scotland, but France itself was plagued by unrest, religious differences causing whole towns to burn to the ground and their were whispers, rumors that the black death had returned.

Bash felt the pressure constantly growing, heavy on his shoulders. He had never been good at this, politics had always bored him. He would rather spent the day on horseback in the bloodwood then listening to French subjects scrabble about landownership or stolen crops. He had grown to accept his fate in away, trying his best to keep his mind from drifting when listening to his advisers make suggestions about the safety of their borders with the English. In the evenings, he constantly had to battle with migraines, his brain not accustomed to the heavy workload.

The advisers listened to his opinions and decisions, all eyes on him as his father sat in the corner, absentmindedly blabbering of attacks and conquests that would never happen. It had started a few weeks after their wedding, Henry would have sudden outbursts of anger and rage, smashing things and threatening people, his eyes wild and his breath reeking of liquor. Cathrine would try to hide it, but there were dark bruises covering her arms and parts of her neck. The normally so outspoken Queen had grown more silent, wary of her husbands rage.

The King would lust after girls in public, even whispering inappropriate things into the ears of high ladies in passing, who would in turn hurry away, their eyes filled with horror. Fantasies of conquering England, crushing the dying Tudor queen would take hold of his mind, making him spew out mad orders, calling for troops to attack the English stronghold in Calais. After some initial confusion, the royal advisers had learned to bow to their king’s made requests, but listened to Bash’s commands behind Henry’s back.

Word of the king’s madness could not get out, if their enemies in France and beyond her boards got word of the situation at French court, chaos would inadvertently follow. The situation was tense enough as it was, some of the nobles not willing to accept a bastard as next in line to the French throne. They would always talk in hushed voices whispering to one another, no doubt plotting something. He felt their stares in passing, knowing too well of the struggles awaiting him when he would some day wear the heavy crown on his head.

He had never envied his younger half brother, always mocking Francis for his willingness to follow the rules and do as their father bade him. He had never been one to embark on a reckless adventure like Bash, the duties of the Dauphin confining him to a life at court. That was Bash’s life now, while Francis no doubt spent his time roaming through Paris, enjoying the freedom of a rich and titled young man. He smiled at the thought of his younger brother, drunkenly staggering through the Parisian streets.

His wife still missed him, his brother. He could see it in her eyes, she would try to hid her sorrow of course, the smile on her lips omnipresent whenever he saw her in public. He didn't see much of her these days, his duties as the Dauphin, as regent, demanding his full attention and time. She would already be fast asleep in their bed, her face turned away from him, her hands clutching a pillow, when he returned to their chambers late at night. Sometimes he could hear her silently crying in her sleep.

It filled his heart with sorrow to see her like this, she used to be so bold and outspoken, he had always admired her for that. She was the only girl he had ever known to not care about her hair being messed up and the wrinkles in her dress as she had chased after him and his brother, squealing with joy. She seemed to be a mere shadow of herself these days. When Francis had left on their wedding day, he had taken a piece of her with him, making her eyes hollow and filling her beautiful face with sadness.

Not even her ladies truly knew how much their radiant queen suffered inside. They wouldn't hear her muffled sobs at night, they could only guess what was hiding behind her dead eyes.

Bash had racked his mind, trying to find some way to bring back the sparkle in Mary’s eyes, give her back some of her joy. He hoped that once their baby arrived she would have something else to focus her thoughts on. She truly seemed happy sometimes, clutching her growing belly. She would smile for a moment, caressing her expanding abdomen but it wouldn't last long, it never did. The sadness always retuned, her face becoming a mask once more, the pain safely tucked away behind a fake smile.

He had tried to talk to her ladies about it, which in itself had proven to be quit difficult. He had alway been charming, flirting with girls came easy to him, but truly talking about such serious matters with other women seemed nearly impossible. Lola would offer him a pitiful smile, assuring him of his wife’s wellbeing, only to walk away from him. Greer only rarely graced the court with her presence these days, spending most of her time in Paris with on of the smaller lords named Bayard, loyal to Francis, who she was now engaged to.

Kenna was the only one left. She reminded him of the old Mary in some ways. Her recklessness and how she would suddenly blurt out things better left unsaid. She was strong willed, her dark eyes fierce, glistening with fire as she challenged him to speak. The first time he had tried to approach her, she had simply smirked at him, a wicked look in her eyes as she had tuned on her heels, leaving him behind, utterly perplexed.

He had persisted, and after some initial weariness, she had finally confided in him. She would tell him how Mary closed herself off from everyone else, spending most of her time alone in her chambers, reading. And whenever she would talk with her ladies, she would never offer much of herself, confining their conversations to trivial matters.

Their talks had grown more frequent, and he could feel himself relax when he was with her. There never was much time but he felt save, confiding in Kenna and she would never judge him.

He felt guilty, he knew that he should spend ever free minute with his wife. But he barely ever saw Mary during the day and when he did she would merely wish him a well, never willing to linger for long. He would put his hands on her belly, the thought of their unborn child making a warmth spread through his whole body, but when he would look up, smiling, he would see her struggle to reciprocate his expression, the weak smile on her lips never quite reaching her hollow eyes.

He loved her, he truly did, maybe not in the way Francis had, but he cared for her like he had never cared for another person. He so desperately wanted for her to be happy, to see her smile again, to hear her laugh, sweet music in his tired ears. But she wasn't happy, no matter how many fake smiles she tried to fool him with, she was miserable and he could sense it. She looked different, a different Mary, a sad Mary. Sometimes her hands would tremble before she could safely clasp them in her lap, her jaw clenching, only ever so slightly betraying her unwavering facade.

It frustrated him, his wife was miserable and there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. He simply had to watch her every day, watch his heartbroken wife. Her heart wasn't his to mend, he knew that. She had broken it herself, the prophecy had altered her life and heart forever.

She had told him of Nostradamus’ vision, had confided in him when they had run away together almost six months ago. He could still remember the tears that had glistened in her eyes, the sobs that had escaped her tiered body. She had sat there, huddled on the filthy bed, in one of the dark taverns they had stayed at on the road, crying for hours and he had simply stood there, watching helplessly.

For a time he had been jealous of his brother, of Mary’s love for him. But now, after seeing how much hurt their love for one another had caused them, after seeing both of their hearts break, he no longer envied them. It had to be a cruel fate, knowing that you could never spent your life with the one person you loved more than anything in this world, never growing old, never raising children together.

Knowing there was nothing he could really do for Mary only added to his burdens and he needed to find some outlet. He knew he should stop talking to Kenna as much as he did, but it felt so incredibly good, to have a person he could share his sorrows with, someone who understood, who didn't judge. There were no expectations, no pressure, he could simply forget for a while, take his thoughts of politics and his wife.

-

„You know, the King is getting worse.“ Kenna sat across him on one of the red cushioned couches in the library „I actually saw him today, touching Lady Barnard’s breasts. She was appalled of course. I thought, she might have actually burst into tears right then and there, by the look on her face.“

Her delicate fingers where playing with a loose thread, sticking out from behind the couch and Bash let out a sight. His father’s behavior was getting harder and harder to control and people had already started to take notice of the King’s sudden mood swings.

„I know, he’s not well. His mind, he’s slowly going mad. Nostradamus assures me, it isn't poison, but I still worry.“ he buried his head in his hands, exhausted from the day’s events.

„Is there truly nothing you can do? Have you asked Cathrine, she surly has some kind of plan, she always does.“

„I’m sure, I’m the last person she’d share her plots with.“ a hoarse laugh escaped his throat.

„I know she's despicable Bash. She doesn't like you, thats true, but she doesn't really like anyone, to be honest. And taking care of Henry’s situation is to her benefit as well.“ she looked at him warmly „You must have noticed the dark spots on her arms?“

He nods, Kenna was right, of course. Cathrine was the one person who could pressure the King of France, but she scared him. He hated admitting it, but the idea of having to talk to the woman, ask her for a favor, it chilled him.

„You might be right, but even she won’t be able to cure him.“

„Well you don't need to make him well again, it just has to appear that way.“

He rubbed his eyes, aching for his soft bed, and stood up. Kenna nodded her head, offering him a kind smile and he curtsied before heading for his chambers.

When he reached the thick wooden door, the guards informed him that his wife was already inside. He sighted and quietly slipped through the door, only the warm glow from the fire illuminating the dark room. He could make out Mary’s silhouette melting into the bed. She looked so peaceful, one of her hands resting on her belly, the other clutching on of the many blankets covering her body. Her chest was rising and falling, the rhythm of her breaths calm.

He changed into his nightgown and positioned himself beside her, careful not to stir the bed to much with his movements. Instinctively he wanted to reach out and caress her beautiful face, but quickly thought better of it, turning beneath the covers and closing his heavy lids.

-

„The Dauphin, your Majesty.“ one of Cathrine’s guards, a gigantic man with a grim face, announced his arrival.

He entered the Queen’s chambers, holding his head high, not letting his insecurities show. She was bend over one of her tables, closing the golden doors of a bird cage before turning to face him.

„I have expected you.“ her eyes met his and he did his best to hold her cold gaze.

„So tell me, what do you want, I don't have all day.“ her words where harsh but her pale hands, hurriedly pulling down the sleeves of her dress, hiding her bruises from his view, betrayed her.

„The Kings conditions is becoming more problematic, people are starting to notice.“ he sounded surprisingly steady.

She nodded in accordance.

„So what do you propose?“ her face relaxed slightly.

„There has to be a way to keep him occupied, to draw his attention from …“

„ … from the next girl’s breasts, I know.“ she interrupting him, clearly not willing to linger on her husband’s unfaithfulness.

„You are his wife, the French Queen. You must know a way to help.“

„And there I thought you might actually have a concrete plan.“ she turned, her gaze fixed on on of the windows. „Henry, he is sick. He has always lusted after other women, but this is different. He is to prideful to let himself go this way in public.“

He wasn't entirely sure, she knew she was still talking to him, her mind seemed to have wandered.

„There is one way though.“ she continued „I have noticed he has taken a liking to one of Mary’s ladies in particular. He even mumbled her name in his sleep once, after too many bottles of wine. Kenna, she is the dark haired one, yes?“

He gaped at her, the disbelieve of what she was implying, blatant in his eyes.

„No! No, were not using her, submitting her to his rage.“

„She’s just a girl. What do you care?“ she smirked at him, a knowing look in her eyes. „You will be King one day, god knows I don't want it to happen, but it will. Making hard decisions, compromising one girl for the safety of a whole nation, are part of that.“

„I won’t do it. We’d be risking her life. There is no knowing what Henry might do.“ his voice was filled with dread.

He would never do that to Kenna. She trusted him and he wouldn't betray that trust.

„Well, you wanted a way to control Henry, here you have it.“ she challenged him, finally turning away once more, seemingly finished with their conversation.

There had to be another way. He had to protect Kenna, he felt responsible for her. Cathrine had set her eyes on her and would surely try to throw her into Henry’s arms somehow. He could hear his boots echoing on the stone floor on his way back to his chambers, his fists clenching in anger. He could feel the rage pulsing through his veins, making his blood boil.

There had to be another way.

Chapter Text

8.

By mid April Mary’s belly was already clearly visible. She felt the courtiers’ looks on her in the corridors, the pregnant Dauphine the center of all gossip around the castle. Spirits had been low after a hard winter, the promise of the birth of a young prince or princess taking peoples’ attention away from the scares resources and food shortages plaguing France.

Bash would try to pamper her, always making sure she and the unborn child were taken care of. His concern for her only further fueled her guilt. He was all she could have ever wished for in a husband. He showered her with presents, made snarky remarks to her, making her laugh, he held her close in his arms at night and woke her from her nightmares, calming her mind. He was perfect, all she shad wanted, but he wasn't Francis, he would never be. Still after so much time she couldn't let him go, simply couldn't forget him and she hated herself for it. Her expanding baby was a constant reminder of his missing presence.

Sometimes she would wake at night, Bash soundly asleep next to her, and she could very distinctively feel the child move inside of her. They weren't really kicks yet, but rather soft movements, small nudges, just enough to stir her from her dreams. Instinctively the memories of Francis would kick in, his beautiful blue eyes and blond locks swimming before her teary eyes. The beautiful images in her head paralyzing her body. All she could do was lay there, wishing him next to her. She would struggle to fall back asleep and when she finally did, he would follow her into her dreams.

Bash sometimes seemed to notice the sorrow in her eyes, of course he did, he knew her too well. He would rush to her side, caressing her cheek and gently putting one of his protective hands on her swollen belly, whispering sweet things to her and the child, the child that wasn't his. The guilty feeling would creep under her skin, forming a dry lump in her throat and stealing the air from her lungs. It pained her to think that her lie was making him so happy, made his eyes sparkle in joy and anticipation of the life growing inside her. His words only making it worse. He would promise to protect and love her and the child, his intentions so sincere so innocent.

Sometimes the thought that he would never know would ease her mind. For all he cared, it was his child and he would love and cherish it, she was sure. But it was so selfish, who had given her the right to take this away from Francis, who had given her the right to lie to her husband.

She longed for nothing more then to tell Francis. It was foolish of course, she had pushed him away so far, had made him miserable beyond words. He was surely angry with her, for all the pain she had caused them both and telling him of their child inside her, a child he could never meet, would only add to his burdens. Still, the thought of their child growing up without it’s father, never even being allowed to know him, pained her beyond words. Her dreams were filled with images of him, holding their child, two pairs of identical blue eyes smiling at her. It was all they had ever wanted, could have ever wished for, a child, a family of their own.

She desperately wanted for Francis to find his happiness again. She knew in the depths of her heart that she would never truly be as happy anywhere else as she had been in his arms. But it was selfish of her, she had pushed him away and he deserved better, more than the pain she had left him with.

She would try to stop herself, knowing it wouldn't help, but still she asked Greer about Francis multiple times. Her lady had visited Leith often these past months, and had spent the last two weeks in Paris with him and Francis. Every time Mary tried to mentioned Francis’ name, Greer would merely shake her head, refusing to talk to her queen about him, only offering her a quick „He’s well“. The lie in her words evident in the pitiful look in her big hazel eyes, as she spoke the words.

Mary would resign and, with a sight, continue listening to Greer gush about Leith, telling her friends of the events in Paris. Leith had proposed to her a few nights ago and her whole face would glow, when recounting the glorious details of the moment, fidgeting with the gracious golden ring, he had given her, on her finger.

Mary was happy for her friend she truly was, but she couldn’t suppress the jealousy manifesting in her bones, her jaw would clench knowing that she could never have what Greer and Leith did.

Lola and Greer where eagerly discussing wedding details, while Mary’s eyes lost themselves in the clouds, dancing through the trust grey sky outside the window. Next to her, Kenna’s upper half was wrapped in a thinly knitted shawl as she intently stared at her hands, intertwined in her lap. A shaky breath, escaping her friend’s throat, drew Mary’s attention back to the present.

„Kenna, dear, is something amiss?“ she reached out, caressing her friend’s hand. Kenna flinched, protectively wrapping her arms around her middle.

„I … I don’t know what to do.“ she whispered, tears where welling in her eyes as one spilled onto her powdered cheek.

„Please tell me, I can help.“ Mary’s voice was filled with concern for her friend, shaking beside her.

„I … the King, he …“ her voice broke again, the tears now flowing freely.

„Kenna, please speak to me.“ her words were pleading, willing her friend to trust her.

„His hands, he … he pushed me against the wall. He …“ she pushed the piece of fabric off her shoulders, her hands shaking. There were big angry purple spots covering her dainty shoulders and creeping up her neck, hiding behind her brown locks.

Mary reached for her friends arm, careful not to startle Kenna with her touch. Kenna caved and gave into her Queen’s embrace, sobbing against her neck.

Lola and Greer looked at them with big eyes, ignorant to what had provoked Kenna’s sudden outburst.

Encircled by her three friends, Kenna finally built up the courage to continue her recount of what had happened.

Apparently, the Queen had sent for her. Upon entering she had, realized that Cathrine was not in her chambers and had instead found herself alone with the king. His eyes had been wild, filled with lust as he had pressed her up against the wall, ravishing her neck. His harsh touch still evident in the bruises covering her arms, shoulders and neck. Henry had forced his lips upon her, trapping her small frame against the hard wall behind her. He had already hiked up her skirts when she had managed to kick him, her small hand smacking him across the face. She had ran for her life, hearing his enrages screams behind her, calling for his guards to seize her. Mercifully they had ignored their mad king’s request, averting their eyes as the young girl had fled his chambers.

Together they had helped their crying friend into Mary’s bed, snuggly tugging her shaking body under the covers.

Now Greer was sitting on the edge of the bed whispering kind words into her friend’s ear, southing her to sleep, while Mary was restlessly pacing across the room.

„He is clearly out of his mind, this can not be allowed to happen again.“

„Yes, but what can we do?“ Lola was sitting across the room.

„I am the Queen of Scotland, she is my subject, mine to protect.“

„But Mary ..“

„Don’t. I have been passive for far too long. I’m a Queen, it is my duty to act. Queens don't have the privilege to be heartbroken.“ now both Lola and Greer looked at her in incredulous disbelieve.

They had grown so used to the new Mary. The Mary that would sit in her chambers all day, that would constantly be on the verge of tears, that would barely ever speak. This, here before them, was the old Mary, the Mary they had known for so many years, the Mary that would take action, stand up to the bullies, would do anything for her friends.

„You stay here with Kenna, I will return shortly.“ she ordered her friends, striding out the door as fast as her belly would allow it.

-

The guards and courtiers she encountered on her way, looked stunned. The Dauphine hadn't shown her face in days and the determination in her step definitely didn't fit her usual behavior.

When she reached the council’s chamber, the room where her husband spent most of his waking hours, the guards positioned outside barely had time to announce her arrival before she burst in.

Startled faces greeted her, Bash froze upon seeing her, his mouth falling slightly open in surprise. He quickly caught himself though, rushing to her side, taking her small hands into his large ones, and this time she didn't pull away. He motioned for the other lords and council members to leave them before addressing her, a concerned look now in his eyes

„Mary, what is wrong. Is it the baby, tell me.“

„No, no, I am ok, please don't worry about me.“ she offered him a small reassuring smile and she could see the relief flooding his eye. „It is about your father, something has happened.“ he let out a sigh at the mention of his father.

„I know Mary, he isn't well. But there is nothing I can do.“ he sounded exhausted.

„You have to do something. He … he has hurt Kenna. She's in my rooms now, asleep, but she looks awful.“

His reaction surprised her, as he nearly jumped at the mention of her lady’s name, the anger colouring his normally green eyes black. His whole figure tensed up before her and his hands slipped from her’s, balling up into fists.

„What … how did this happen?“ he clenched his jaw.

„I’m not exactly sure. Kenna was summoned to the Queen’s chambers and he ambushed her.“

„Cathrine“ was all her husband could muster, before he stormed out of the council’s chamber, leaving her behind, frozen in place by surprise.

She didn't understand, why was he so enraged. What happened to Kenna, it made her guts boil in anger and disgust, and she longed for nothing more than hurt her attacker back, just as much as he had hurt her friend. Kenna was her companion since childhood, her friend and it made her heart ache to see her in such pain, but Bash, he had no connection to her lady. It didn't make sense.

Mary was utterly perplexed, she had never seen him like this and she wasn't sure what had spiked his sudden anger, the rage suddenly boiling inside his eyes as his features contorted in pain.

She struggled to keep up with him as she hurried after him, her shorter legs no match for his long and muscular ones, and her belly constricting every movement.

When he finally halted before their chambers’ door, she was practically jogging after him, desperately trying to catch her breath. Her heart was racing and her hand were on her stomach, trying to support the baby’s weight. Before Bash had the chance to enter, she put a hand on his shoulder in a desperate effort to ease his tense body and calm the anger, flashing in his eyes. He however simply shot her a look, something glistening in his eyes - was it fear, pain, she count quite tell - before storming through the door.

Kenna was still asleep in Mary’s bed, right where she had left her, and Greer and Lola who had been resting on her couch, where now jumping up, bewildered and confused at Bash’s sudden appearance.

„What happened?“ it was nearly a growl, his eyes looking desperate.
„Henry, he … he …“ before Lola could even finish Bash was rushing across the room, rushing to Kenna’s side.

If Mary hadn't know any better she would have thought there were actual tears glistening in her husband’s eyes. She was confused, why was Bash so angry, he barely ever barely even knew Kenna. But there he was, standing over her lady’s sleeping figure, a pained expression in his face.

„Bash, what is the matter? Please speak to me.“ her voice was desperate.

He didn't react, frozen in place, as he continued to stare at the angry bruises on Kenna’s neck. She could see it, the single tear falling from his eye, colliding with Kenna’s skin and it broke something inside her, making her come undone.

It felt as if someone had dropped a stone in the pit of her stomach, the realization creeping up on her in horror. Her husband was having an affair with her lady, her friend. The air suddenly seemed to be knocked out of her lungs, a dizzy feeling settling in her head as the room started to spin around her,slow at first but steadily picking up speed.

„Bash please!“ she gulped in a breath of air, her hands clasping her growing belly. The betrayal scattered a part of her heart, she hadn't realized had still been whole.

Chapter Text

9.

It was all to much, her mind was practically spinning.

She was leaning against the thick wooden pole of the bed in her old chambers, her whole body trembling. The airflow to her lungs was constricted by her tight corset as she panicked and tried to gulp in air, to no avail. Her fingers found the strings that were holding her corset together and were desperately trying to claw it open. Her heart was racing, her pupils expanded and the fear overtook her body.

She wanted to scream, to desperately call for help but her lungs failed her. The room started to spin and the darkness fell heavy on her eyes.

-

„Help! Someone help, the Dauphine!“ Lola’s screams sounded distant, like in a dream.

She could feel strong arms grabbing her, setting her down on the bed.

„The corset, open her corset!“ Lola was now closer, gently stroking her face, while a maid was loosening the strings at her back.

„Mary, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?“

She managed a weak nod in response but her eyes stayed shut.

„What happened, did you fall?“

Before she could even think of an answer, there were more footsteps and she could clearly hear Bash’s voice.

„Mary, is she alright?“ his hand reaching for hers, his grip strong.

Lola answered something that was lost to her ears.

„Please leave us, and call Nostradamus!“ footsteps were exiting the room and the door fell shut.

„Mary darling, please say something.“ his words were filled with concern as he stroked her pale face.

„ I … Bash, I …“ her voice failed her again, her eyes still shut.

She couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes. It would hurt too much. It was so pathetic, collapsing in front of her ladies, her husband, why couldn't she keep it together? This wasn't worthy of a queen.

She wasn't being fair, she knew that. She didn't marry him out of love but rather convenience, out of love for his brother. He must know, must suspect that in truth she still loved Francis. It was so selfish, he had given up his old life to marry her, he loved her and there was nothing she could give in return. The love and sorrow mixed in his eyes, she felt it when he looked at her.

But she barely ever saw him these days, shutting herself off in her chambers. It was her fault that he wasn't happy in their marriage, her fault if he sought comfort in the arms of another. She couldn't really blame him, could she? She was his wife, the one person that should support him no matter what, just like he supported her. But she had failed and now he had moved on. She knew it that she couldn't very well blame him, but still, it hurt so much, the betrayal of her best friend, her husband. He had been the closest thing she had ever had to family, someone who had always valued and cared for her and now she had lost him as well.

It was too much and the fear gripped her body again. The tears started to rush from her eyes, small sobs escaping her dry throat.

„What is it, is something wrong? Is it the baby?“ she could feel Bash panicking beside her.

She managed to shake her head again, finally bringing herself to open her heavy lids. There were tears clouding his green eyes as well. They were so close to hers, she could feel his labored breath tingling the bare skin on her face.

One of his gentle hands was now cupping her cheek, the other still holding onto her pale fingers.

„Kenna … Bash, why? Please tell me.“ she hated how weak she sounded.

„Kenna, what does she have to do with this?“ his brow was furrowed in confusion.

„Just tell me what happened between you. Please Bash, I need to know.“ her voice sounded so strangled, like drowning person clinging on for dear life.

„Mary dear, nothing happened. I just …“ a sight escaped him as he realized what his wife was asking of him. „I have just found a really good friend in her. Please believe me, nothing happened, we just talk sometimes at night.“

She could feel her lips parting and closing again without a single sound escaping them. Was he lying to her? She wasn't sure what to think. Why else would he have reacted the way he had back in their rooms?

„Please Mary, you know that I would never do that you. I love you.“

His hand let go of hers and moved to her swollen belly, cupping it gently and placing a tender kiss on her tear streaked cheek.

„You are my wife Mary, carrying our child inside of you.“ another sob escaped her at the mention of the child.

„I am sorry Bash, I just thought …“ she didn't really know what to think. Was she being childish, getting all worked up about nothing, it was pathetic. She trusted her friend, Kenna would never have done this to her. And Bash, he sounded so sincere, still the bad feeling remained heavy in her gut.

Her husband talked with her lady at night, did he not trust her anymore. Had they grown so far apart so soon into their marriage? It was her fault, she knew that, she had closed herself off, barely ever offered him anything at all.

She pulled him closer and he leaned into her, embracing her shaking body, while she continued to sob into his neck.

„I am sorry Bash.“ she whispered the words just loud enough for him to hear. ‚For being absent, for not trusting you, for not carrying your child and not telling you‘ she added in her mind.

-

Kenna already looked a lot better the next day. Her neck and shoulders were still covered in dark marks and her bottom lip was swollen, but she was smiling again.

„I am very sorry, I should have told you, Mary.“ her eyes were sincere.

„No please, I should be the one apologizing.“ she reached for Kenna’s hand.

„He’s your husband and you are my best friends. I just … I didn't want to hurt you, but that’s exactly what I did.“ Kenna’s big eyes looked glassy and Mary was afraid she would start to cry again, feeling her friend’s hand starting to shake.

„I mean it, please don't blame yourself, Kenna. I am his wife and I was the one who wouldn't speak to him. It’s only natural that he needed someone to talk to.“

„I wanted to tell you Mary, I really did. You just seemed so sad as it was and I feared that telling you would only add to your pains.“

Mary nodded in response, gently squeezing her friend’s hand. She understood, even if it pained her to accept the truth.

Yes, at first she had been mad at Kenna, at Bash as well, not believing that there was truly nothing but friendship between them. She had been jealous that her husband trusted one of her ladies more than his own wife. In truth she just wanted to let it go, they were two of the people closest to her and after Francis, she couldn't bear to loose any more of her friends to ill will or jealousy. Besides, how could she expect Bash to be honest with her when she herself refused to confide in him, keeping so many things from her husband, her friends.

Forgiving Kenna had been easier than expected, it felt good to be able to talk to her friend again, no more secrets, no more jealous thoughts between them.

„You know, at some point you will have to tell him.“ Kenna broke the silence.

Both had been deep in thought, sitting in Mary’s room, a platter filled with warm bread and grapes propped up on the table next to them.

„Tell who what?“ she furrowed her brow.

„Francis, at some point you will have to tell him why. You know that right?“ Kenna absentmindedly played with a grape between her dainty fingers.

That, Mary hadn't expected to hear from her friend, her mouth slightly falling open in surprise.

„You have changed so much since he’s left. The way you barely talk to anyone, the sadness in your eyes. I know you had hoped to forget him once he had left court, but clearly it isn't working. You're no happier than before. Far from it, you just seem more miserable every day. It would give you closure.“ now it was Kenna’s turn to take her friend’s hand into her own.

Mary was dumbfounded, it was weird, hearing someone else telling her what she had known for so long. Kenna was right but for one thing. Yes, she needed to tell him, she desperately needed closure, but it wasn't the prophecy that prohibited her from letting him go, it was the child inside her belly. She was literally carrying a part of him inside her, making forgetting him impossible.

Absentmindedly, her hands were caressing her swollen belly again. She caught herself doing that a lot lately, as she found it to have a very calming effect on her nerves, sometimes even forcing a absentminded smile on her lips.

„I know that I should tell him but I can’t risk it.“ her and Kenna weren't talking about the same thing anymore but still, it felt good to confide in someone, even if she couldn't tell her the full truth.

„But what do you have to loose? You are married now, even he can’t change that.“

„He wouldn't understand, he has never been one to believe in prophecies. He wouldn't be able to let it go, would never leave me in peace if he knew.“

„But at some point, he needs to know that you miss him as well. He thinks you don't love him, never have.“

„Well, that was the point all along. Of course he deserves better than this, of course he does. But if this is the price to pay for his life, then so be it.“

„Mary, Greer tells me things. He’s miserable, he still can’t get over what happened between you. Yes, you have saved him from death, but what kind of life is that, you have subjected him to? Doesn’t he deserve to know, deserve to have a say as well?“

Mary’s heartbeat quickened, this was the first time she had heard any news from him. She desperately longed for Kenna to continue.

„He told Greer that?“ she was lightly shocked. Why had they never told her this before.

„No, I don't believe he talks much of his old life. But he isn't the Francis, we used to know, anymore. He drinks more and smiles less, at least that’s what Greer tells me.“

„I can’t tell him, not now, maybe never. I am sorry, I do really wish I could.“ she let out a sight, offering her friend a weak smile.

„Just consider it, will you?“ she felt Kenna squeeze her hand.

-

The sun had already vanished beyond the horizon, leaving behind a shimmering golden glow. The candles were flickering in the warm breeze. It was an especially kind spring night, the promise of the near summer thick in the evening’s air.

The baby kicked, forming a bump on the left side of her stomach and Mary gently put her hand against the small bulge in her satin night robe. It felt as if the child inside her was reaching out to her, comforting it’s mother and giving her strength. She smiled, massaging the tender skin on her stomach.

After Kenna’s talk, earlier that day, she had felt the urge to tell someone. She knew she could not tell another person, she didn't dare risk it, it was her and the child’s lives on the line.

Her situation was already precarious enough as it was, the birth of the child might prove disastrous in itself. Dark hair was normally dominant in children and she could only pray that the baby wouldn't take too much after it’s father. People were bound to get suspicious if two dark-haired parents produced a fair headed child. No one would dare to say anything of course, but it was a potential weakness that could be exploited by her countless enemies. The English would be just too eager to rid themselves of the Scottish queen and her English claim, and she would have been the one, handing them her noose.

Her eyes wandered through the room, her mind lost in thought, and halted on her desk. It was a beautifully crafted wooden table, dainty long legs and golden ornaments, a wedding gift from one of her French uncles. She would sometimes write letters there, mostly to her mother in Scotland or friends that had moved from court. She couldn't shake the thought that had so suddenly popped into her head. It was madness of course, but she just couldn't stop herself, the idea too intriguing.

The feather screeched on the paper, her hand marking the page with long curves and elegant edges. The words simply poured out of her, easing the constant weight on her shoulders with each brushstroke.

When she finally set the feather aside, she noticed that she was crying again, silent tears had creeped onto her cheeks, heavy blotches falling onto the thick paper. Spots of black ink, mixed with her salty tears, and covered the parchment as she hastily sought to try the spots, as not to ruin her written words.

She blotted her cheeks, her nose sniffling, before her eyes skimmed over the letter, the already familiar knot in her stomach starting to from again.

‚My dearest Francis,

It pains me greatly to see you struggling with the hurt I have caused you. There are so many things I can not allow myself to tell you, but know how sorry I am. You were the one person who always understood me, would listen to me cry and make me laugh. The most joyous times of my life were sent in your presence. I could not loose you, a world were your body is cold to my touch, is not a world I could ever live in. You were my light, and no matter how far you go that light will burn forever.
Letting you go was the single hardest thing I have ever done. I often find myself wondering how it would have been if things had turned out differently, but I can not change what has happened. I must accept and learn to live with that, as do you.
You haunt my dreams each night, making forgetting you impossible. I can not tell you, I can not tell anyone and that is what pains me most. I am carrying a piece of you inside me and I have to keep the secret all by myself. Lying to you, to my husband, it feels so utterly wrong but I have no other choice.
You will never read this, I know, but I have to tell someone. Even if that someone is a mere piece of paper.
I love you Francis, I always will. For all the hurt it has caused us, I will always treasure what we once had, as I will our child, who can never know you as it’s father. It crushes my heart that I will never be able to tell it stories about you, it will never hear your voice, everyone but me oblivious to the truth. This is the burden I must bare, the price I have paid for your beating heart.

I will never forget you Francis, never forget the love we once had.

I love you, forever
Mary’

The child kicked again, as if in protest.

„I am so sorry, my dear. Know that your father would have loved you very very much. He would have been so happy, and you so lucky to have him.“ the tears strained her voice, choking her words, as the baby kicked against her palm again.

„I will keep him in my heart for us both, I promise.“ her voice barely more than a whisper, her mind beginning to drift off again.

She listened to the crackling sounds of the fire next to her, the flames making the shadows on the walls dance in flickering motions. A sight escaped her, she knew, it was time to let go.

No one could ever be allowed to read her words, she would have to carry them within her, safely locked away in the depths of her heart. Her eyes ran over the letter one last time, memorizing every brush stroke. Her hand, holding the letter, was shaking slightly but she willed herself to stand up, her other arm clutching the armrest for support.

She took in a deep breath, gathering all her courage. She pressed the paper to her lips, before letting it go, her words disappearing in the fire. The flames danced around the crumbling letter, eagerly eating up her words, her declaration of love.

All she could do was stand there and watch, one hand on her heart, the other supporting her belly.

„I will never forget, I love you.“ she whispered to the flames as they hissed in answer.

Chapter Text

10.

It was a chilly June night and the cold wind felt like razor blades on Mary’s skin, the icy air, entering her lungs, chilled her to her bones. She shuddered, wrapping the thickly knitted shawl, Sophie had handed her, more tightly around her shivering body. She could see everyone’s breath forming small clouds in the clear night sky. The silence around her was eery, no one dared to speak or even move.

The King had summoned everyone to the courtyard, forcing them out of their warm beds. She could sense the fear of the people around her, smell it in the air. The King was mad, they all knew that, and it scared them. Instinctively her hands flew to her belly, protecting her unborn child. She was already nearing the end of her eighth month of her pregnancy and her belly was huge. It hurt to stand for long periods of time and she was clasping Bash’s hand for support, trying to ignore the numbness settling in her swollen feet.

Henry was pacing before them, a sword tightly gripped in one hand, dangerous flames dancing in his pitch black eyes. Just moments before he had bellowed at them to be quiet.

„I am your king, and when I speak you listen!“ his voice had boomed, bits of spit flying from his fletched mouth and she had sensed several people beside her flinch at his words.

Next to her, Bash clenched his jaw, his whole body tense beside hers. The anger flickered in his green eyes, but he kept his mouth shout as he tightly clutched her hand, nearly crushing it between his fingers. She had felt his pulse quicken, at his father’s words, his chest rising and falling in rhythm to his racing heart.

Kenna and Lola were right beside to them, their fingers intertwined, all four eyes intently directed towards the hard ground under their feet. Even from a meter away it was obvious how scared Kenna was, her whole figure trembling, like a trapped animal tucking it’s tail between it’s legs.

„I am your king. Some of you have seem to forgotten that and would do good to remember!“ his gaze flickered to his wife, who stood next to Bash, bravely holding Henry’s gaze, her eyes empty of any emotion.

„It has come to my intention that some of you have been plotting against me, hoping to remove me from my throne. My own councilors have betrayed my trust and they will pay the prize, you can be sure of that.“ he truly looked mad, wildly gesturing at them with his drawn sword flashing in the torch light.

„Even my own son and wife have gone behind my back.“ Mary flinched as he put the tip of the blade against Bash’s chest. The veins on his neck popped out as he glared at his son, the dauphine.

Bash didn't move, didn't even flinch but she could sense his fear, his grip on her hand tightening even further.

„You really think you can take the crown from me, your own father?“ pure crazy rang in his bellowing laugh.

Thankfully he retreated, taking his sword off Bash and returned to pacing before them.

Her husband let out a shaky breath and she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

„I am anointed by god, nothing can hurt me!“ he raised both arms, mimicking a divine gesture.

„One does not simply deny their King!“

Suddenly he was standing right in front of Mary, making her hold onto Bash even tighter, not daring to meet the King’s eyes. Relief flooded her when she could sense him moving away from her but the horror of what happened next caught her breath in her throat.

Henry had grabbed Kenna’s face, only inches separating the two. The look of pure horror on her friends face made her stomach turn.

„You do not refuse your King, whore!“

The fear had paralyzed Kenna’s body, her mouth falling slightly open and her wet cheeks glistened in the moonlight. Next to the King’s enormous figure she looked so small, so helpless as he tightened his hold on her.

Henry raised his sword, there was a sudden movement and a high pitched scream followed by deafening silence.

For a moment nobody moved, everything seemed frozen in place, only the flickering lights of the torches adding an eery glow to the horrific scene before them.

People where huddled on the cold ground, the King, flat on his back, a lady’s dress covering his body. Another figure crouching on the floor, wide eyes and hands covering her mouth.

„No, No! Please no!“ her screams filled the night, the terror ripped through the silent crowd around them.

There was more movement, two guards shuffled to their king’s side, pulling the lifeless body of the girl off him and helping Henry to his feet. He stumbled backwards, grabbing the guards’ arms for support.

„Please somebody help! Help her!“ Kenna’s words finally pulled Mary out of her trance like state, willing her body to move forward.

The spell seemed broken, people started to move beside her, forming a cluster around the girl’s lifeless body. Mary pushed through the people, Bash right behind her, and she could feel her chest tightening at the sight before her.

Lola’s grey eyes where staring right at her, drained of all life, the black blood pooling around her head. Her brown locks where sprawled around her, partially covering her ghostly skin. The blood was dripping from her lips, her mouth still opened in a silent scream, the terror frozen in her eyes. The embellished handle of Henry’s sword was peaking out between the layers of her dress, the blade buried in her chest to the hilt.

A broken sob sounded from Mary’s mouth and she could feel the sickness brewing in her guts, her whole body recoiling at the terror before her.

„Lola no … no!“ the tears muffled her screams and she could feel Bash’s grip on her body as she tried to leap forward, to hold her friend. Bash’s arms tight around her middle, he lifted her into the air effortlessly while she still cried out for the dead girl.

„Please help her! Bash let me go, I need to help her!“ she tried to wrestle his grip to no avail.

„Mary, she is gone. There is nothing you can do. She is gone.“

Her husbands words rang in her head, their meaning completely lost to her. Lola needed her help, her friend needed her protection. She couldn't leave her body, on the cold floor, her eyes, she looked so scared.

She tried to push Bash away, her tiny balled fists desperately falling against his chest, but he wouldn't relent, only tightening his grip on her.

„She is dead, Mary. Lola is dead. Do you hear me?“ he whispered the words, the terror making his voice shake against her ears.

„No, no, she … she can’t …“ her voice failed her.

Her fingers clutched Bash’s shoulders and she finally gave up, letting her head fall against his chest, the violent sobs shaking her whole body. Lola couldn't be dead, she didn't understand. The King he had gripped Kenna and now Lola was laying on the cold floor, her lifeless body impaled by Henry’s sword.

Bash carried her back to the castle, and when she turned in his arms one last time, someone had mercifully covered Lola’s body with a cloak, hiding her dead eyes and silent scream.

-

When Mary woke, hours later, the sun was already up, dipping her chamber in a warm glow. It was a beautiful day outside, barely any clouds in the sky and the birds’ songs filled the warm spring air.

Her lids felt so impossibly heavy as she struggled to open her eyes, but closed them instantly, the bright morning light too much for her tired mind. She turned, only to find the other side of the bed cold and empty, Bash nowhere to be seen.

She rubbed her eyes, slowly growing accustomed to the bright sun, filling the room. She felt as if she had been drugged, her body rebelling against her every move. Her head was pounding and her mind felt numb.

She let out a breath, trying to gather her thoughts. Mindlessly, her hand wandered to her belly, gently rubbing circles on her stretched skin. The baby inside her moved, kicking against her palm and it all came rushing back.

The eery silence, Henry pacing before them in the courtyard, a high pitched scream and Lola’s dead eyes. Her pulse quickened and her chest rose and fell with every labored breath.

Lola was dead, she felt the panic return, her hand clutching the edge of the bed for support as she sat up, her mind spinning. Lola was dead, her friend gone. All the blood, there had been so much blood, drenching her soaked dress and pooling around her head. So much blood, dark and angry, spilling from her mouth. Her dead eyes, the expression of horror in Lola’s pale eyes gave her chills, the skin of her arms covered in goosebumps.

She didn’t understand, it didn't make sense. Why would Henry kill her lady, why Lola, why one of her friends?

Her chest was heaving, her heart pounding against her ribs. It couldn't be real, it didn't feel real. It had to have been a dream, just another one of her nightmares. The idea calmed her at bit, Lola alive and well, her skin rosy and her eyes fierce and determined as ever.

The morning sun felt southing on her skin, as she pushed back the sleeves of her night gown, exposing her pale arms to the sun’s warmth. It stared at her, dark and angry, the splash of dried blood flashing against her white skin.

All the warmth and comfort she had felt just a moment before where gone, panic taking over her body once more as her breath grew shaky. All she could do in that moment was to stare at the blotch of her friend’s blood on her skin, her eyes glued to her left arm. The shock had taken her body hostage, she was unable to move, her lungs screaming for air, her dry eyes waiting for the tears to well. Only her heart was racing in her chest, pounding against her ribs, the choleric rhythm too fast, making her whole body vibrate with every beat. Even the child in her belly had grown still, paralyzed by it’s mother’s sorrow.

Once the waves of panic had ebbed through her, she took in a deep breath, the fresh oxygen igniting her body, enabling her to move again. Carefully she placed the bare soles of her feet on the cold tiled floor beneath her bed, shifting her weight to her legs. A small sigh escaped her lips as her body accommodated itself to the new position. The bigger her belly had grow, the hard it had gotten to get out of bed in the mornings. Her body wasn't used to the extra weight around her middle and it strained her back.

Fully upright, she put her hands on her sides, gently stretching her sore muscles.

The thought of having to talk to anyone today, even Kenna or Greer, was dreadful and she already felt exhausting. But she was a queen, she couldn't simply spend all her days in bed refusing to talk to people.

-

The day was warm and the fresh spring breeze felt refreshing against the rosy skin of her face. The ground beneath her feet crunched with every step, still slightly frozen from a long and hard winter, but the first flowers were already peaking out of the ground announcing a new season. The birds she had heard this morning were still singing, there voices sweet against her ears.

Save for the two guards following a few steps behind, she was completely alone. Her body was wrapped in thick furs and half of her face was concealed by a warm knitted scarf, only her pink nose peaking out from underneath the layers.

It had to be wonderful to live in Spain or Italy, she imagined, the sun was always present, even the winters pleasantly warm. One day she might convince Bash to take her to one of those places, where lemon trees decorated the cities, the smell of fresh spices filled the air as the warm salty breeze of the sea tousled one’s hair. Growing up in Scotland, where the winters were nearly unbearable, and the north of France, she had known few truly sunny days, dark clouds and harsh winds always near.

Every path and corner of the gardens was so familiar, she knew it all by heart. They used to spend most of their days out here, when they had been kids, chasing through the soft grass and conquering every tree. She had always been the slowest, the two boys both a head taller then her, her shorter figure no match for their long lean legs. She had stomped her tiny feet in fury every time they had escaped her, earning her giggles from the boys. They had loved to tease her and sometimes her short temper would make her recoil in frustration.

She would barricade herself in her room and it had sometime take the fair-haired boy, the more patient one of the two brother, hours to make her open the door again. He would tell her of all the games they could play and how she had always won the one, where they had thrown a ball at each other. Finally she would always give in and the enchanting smile on his face and in his crystal blue eyes, when she had opened the door, would have forced her resolve to break away completely, her whole face lighting up with joy. They would giggle and run down the corridors of the castle, him consciously slowing down for her sake, looking for his brown haired older brother.

She spotted him close to the edge of the lake, his dark hair disheveled by the warm wind.

„Bash, I have been looking for you.“ he turned at her words, and she nearly flinched at how hollow his jade coloured eyes looked.

„Lola, what happened … I don't know what …“ her voice was so small.

She didn't even know what she had wanted to say, what words to choose to express the pain and grief she still felt wallowing in her chest. It had been a week since the incident, Lola’s cold body already safely buried beneath the earth, but it still didn't feel real. Walking through the gardens, the memories of her happy childhood, had nearly made her forget. But the hurt look in Bash’s face brought it all back, and at last she could feel the tears, she had held in all this time, filling her eyes.

She closed the space between them and tightly hugged his body, his arms wrapping around her back mechanically. His whole body felt so tense, and the way he embraced her, it reminded her of the stiff puppets they had used to play with as children.

When she pulled back, keeping her hands on his chest, he had turned his face away from her, facing the water again. She extended her arm, reaching for his chin but his hand enveloped hers and he gave her a light squeeze, dropping her hand from his face.

„Please, talk to me Bash.“ she pleaded with him.

He stayed in place, his eyes still directed away from her and she could see his hands balling into fists next to his tense body.

„I know how you feel. Lola, it is all so terrible. Put please just talk to me, I cannot loose you as well, you are my husband.“

„Yes I am, and a husband should protect his wive.“ the anger in his voice took her by surprise as he turned around to face her, his eyes glistening.

„But, I don't understand. You have always protected me, Bash. Why would …“ he cut her off.

„I will be King one day, Mary. Yet I can’t even seem to protect the people closest to me, to us. Things have gotten out of hand and it is my fault.“

„If you mean your father, he is mad, Bash. There is nothing you could have done.“

„Yes I could have. I can’t cure him, but I should have done something, I should have kept him from hurting people. He beat Kenna bloody, even Cathrine isn't save from his fury. And he … he killed Lola, he …“ this time it was she that interrupted him.

„She is dead. He killed her, he killed one of my closest friends. He has ripped a hole in my heart and I hate him for it. But we cannot stop him, he is your father, the King.“ the hurt was evident in her voice as she hoped to calm his fury.

He clenched his jaw and the way his whole face was drained of colour, the vein on his forehead budging against his skin, it scared her. He looked so lost and she didn't know what to do, what to say to help him. She tried to move closer again but he just retreated further. He violently rubbed his eyes but the tears he tried to smear away didn't escape her notice.

„A King should protect his people. Mary, who knows what hill do next. He wants to go to war with England and conquer the Tudor throne. He will destroy this country, kill us all. I am the next King, your husband, I have to protect France. Keep you and and our child save. I will not risk anymore lives!“ the despair rang in his words and all she could do was gape in surprise as he stormed off, leaving her alone by the lake.

-

A pounding on the door ripped her from her sleep and she could barely make out anything in the pitch black room as she shot up beneath the covers, the sleep still numbing her mind. Her hand reached for the other side of the bed, meaning to wake her husband, but it was empty. He was gone.

„Your Majesty!“ it was one of her guards, she recognized the voice „Your Majesty, I am sorry to disturb you, but you have to come at once!“

Chapter Text

11.

His head was pounding, the bright sun light forcing him to shut his eyes again. Groaning he turned in bed and tried to rid himself of the blanket tangled between his legs. As he tucked on the white sheet, he noticed the other body in the bed next to him.

He could make out the pale skin on her bare limbs, peaking through the sheets, her head of nutty brown hair sprawled on a pillow. Her face turned away from him and he could hear the girl’s breathing, rhythmical and slow.

His mind was numb from the night before, the alcohol still clouding his thoughts. And just for one moment he imagined it was her, laying in bed next to him. Her big brown eyes staring back at him, the soft giggles escaping her sweet mouth. Mary’s face swam before his eyes, but he quickly wiped it away, he would not loose himself in those dreams again. He shook his head in determination, sending his unruly and tangled blond curls flying in all directions.

Memories of her still plagued him at night sometimes and it would claw at his heart. But the pain had become bearable, he had grown to accept that his old life, a life with her in it, was gone and never coming back. He had let her hurt him for far too long. She had broken his heart, shattering it into a thousand pieces and it had taken him months, nearly half a year to partially piece it back together again, the fractures still remaining. Being away from her, here in Paris with his friends, had helped a great deal, all the parties and adventures helping him forget.

He would never truly be able to rid himself of her, he knew that, but he had pushed her memory to the far back of his heart, not allowing her to hurt him any longer.

He stretched his arms, sitting up in bed and instantly regretted it. The fast movement had sent the whole room spinning before his eyes and he let his head fall back once more.

The girl stirred beside him, turning her head and looking at him with sleepy eyes.

„Morning“ she offered him a tired smile.

He let out another sight and massaged his temple with his hand.

„I am sorry, you will excuse me, there is somewhere I have to be.“ his words sounded harsh and he instantly regretted them when he saw the hurt look on her face.

„I … I am sorry, truly. I just …“ his head hurt so much and trying to form a coherent thought was agonizing.

„It’s okay, I understand. You don't have to apologize.“ her voice sounded hoarse and before he had the chance to think of a reply she had slipped out of the bed, clutching on of the blankets around her bare body as she disappeared behind the door.

He should feel guilty, he knew that, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. Finally managing to sit up, he reached for his robe and tied it around his waist. He hadn't really lied, Leith was expecting him at noon, Greer and a few more of their friends probably already waiting for him.

-

„You look rough, my friend. Long night?“ Leith got up from his chair and smirked at his friend.

Francis threw him a look but couldn't quite keep the smile off his lips.

„Sorry for my tardiness, something came up.“ he embraced his friend in a quick hug, padding his back before greeting the other guests.

Greer was sitting with her group of girls, while the men were gathered in another corner of the room. She smiled at him, acknowledging his presence with a nod, her warm eyes kind.

Her and Leith’s wedding was planned for next autumn and she seemed to be enjoying her time here in Paris. She had spent the greater part of the past six months in the city, only occasionally visiting court and her friends there. In the beginning he had been desperate, had begged her for any news of Mary, but she had alway stayed strong, never revealing much. It had frustrated him then, but now he was thankful. If he was honest, he didn't really want to now the exact details of her marriage to his brother.

His mother would write him occasionally, and he suspected it was out of loneliness. After his father had cast her aside, she had spent her time caring for her children, grooming her oldest son, Francis, for the throne. As a woman, she could never hold any real power of her own, but she would make sure her children would. She had been a kind mother, but her short temper had sometimes caused her fury to boil over, screaming at her husband and servants, as he and his brothers would hide in a corner.

Now all of that had been taken from her as well. She still was a Queen, but in truth only a King’s consort, a pretty head, adorned with a meaningless crown. He felt for her, truly, sometimes even missed her.

But he had discovered something here he had deemed impossible, he had found his happiness, here in Paris, his friends, away from court, away from his family, from her. No one cared for politics or the French throne, they were just young men enjoying their youth and freedom. Someday he would inherit whichever estates his father or half brother deemed him worthy of. He would find a wife, someone with a kind heart to share his life with, to have children with, a family of his own.

They talked for some hours, discussing upcoming events and travel plans. Pierre, a young noble from the south of France, was traveling to Venice in two day and had offered to take Francis with him. He had never been to Italy before, frankly he had never really left court since the day he had been born, always kept sheltered and protected behind the castle’s thick walls. It seemed intriguing to visit his mother’s country, meet the Medici side of his family. He could stay with his mother’s relatives in Florence, maybe spend the summer there.

„As long as you're back for the wedding, I say, go and enjoy yourself.“ Leith said, once he had shared his plans with his friend.

„Greer should introduce you to Pierre’s sister, she is quite the catch.“ the mischief glimmered in Leith’s eyes.

Francis rolled his eyes in fake annoyance and both men raised their glasses, toasting to a bright future.

-

Before long the sunlight was receding and the wine was flowing freely, loosening the spirits of the young nobles. Giggles filled the room and some men would burst into laughter, spewing wine everywhere. It was so freeing, no one cared for court etiquette, for good manors or fake smiles. Here the laughter was real, friends would hug on another and bowing was only seen very rarely. Most of the young lords were affluent enough to throw extravagant parties and dinners, gambling and drinking at night, sleeping till noon and shopping in the markets when the sun was out. Politics and court intrigues were of no interest, they just wanted to enjoy their youth in the bussing French capital.

Francis enjoyed himself, he would never talk much, rather enjoying the spectacle from the corners of the room. He would sometimes go out on adventures with Leith in the city but for the most part he just embraced the loose atmosphere.

He had been talking to Philippe, one of Leith’s distant cousins from Spain, discussing different types of daggers for hunting and skinning deer, when Greer appeared beside them, interrupting them mid conversation.

„Francis,“ there was a slight slur in her voice and her her cheeks were flushed „this is Amélie, Pierre’s sister.“ she giggled, gently shoving the girl, which had been trailing behind her, in Francis’ direction.

„Amélie, this is Francis.“ the other girl looked very uncomfortable, clearly not as intoxicated as Greer next to her.

„Leith told me you were looking for her.“ she padded his shoulder, smiling widely before turning on her heel, vanishing in the crowd as quickly as she had appeared.

The girl before him was nervously fidgeting with her hands, her gaze directed at the floor. She was certainly pretty, long blond waves spilling over the front of her dress.

He cleared his throat, feeling slightly embarrassed himself as well, despite the wine in his system. With a sign of his hand he excused himself from Philippe and turned his full attention to the girl, intending to send her off gently,

„I am sorry for my friends’ behavior. I am Francis.“ he nodded his head and offered her a kind smile.

„It is quite alright, Greer has been wanting to introduce me for the past two hours.“ She returned his smile and he could see the sprinkles of gold in her emerald eyes.

„You do not have to talk to me, I wont keep you from your friends.“ he kept his voice polite.

„Oh no don't worry, I’m on my own, my brother is busy gambling with his friends.“ she gifted him with a small smile and he sighted.

He wasn't exactly keen to talk to this timid girl, he didn't know at all.

She furrowed her brow at his expression, and tucked at his sleeve. Maybe she was a little drunk after all?

„Come on. I assure you, I’m a great listener, or story teller, whichever you prefer.“ the wickedness was flashing in her eyes as she threat her arm through his, practically pull him behind her.

Once they found an empty table and she had poured them both a glass of dark red wine, she propped her head on her arms, looking at him expectantly. He just stared at her, rather stunned, girls normally never behaved like this around him. When he didn't say anything she broke the silence.

„So a your the young wealthy lord accompanying us to Italy?“ her eyes were sparkling at him.

„I guess that is me, your brother has told you?“ he offered reluctantly.

„Oh no, Greer did, I guess she heard it from you. So what is it your doing in Italy?“ it was obvious that she wouldn't relent.

Maybe it was for the best, if she was to travel with him he might as well get to know his travel companion.

„I have family in Florence. I was thinking of spending the summer there.“he hoped that he hadn't given to much away with his answer, only few knew of his real identity.

People always seemed to tense up when realizing the were talking to a royal, the King’s cast off son. All of France had heard of what had happened at court, months ago. Thankfully most people had never seen him before and would not recognize him as the disowned Dauphin.

„Ahh, I see.“ she nodded in understanding to his gaunt response. „So,do you live here, in Paris?“ she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

„Well, I moved here half a year ago but I doubt that I’ll stay for too long.“

It was true, he felt so at home here in this city, surrounded by his friends. But he knew that after Leith and Greer’s wedding the two would move to his father’s chateau, a day’s ride from Paris. Slowly all of his friends would trickle away, leaving him alone once more. It was better to acknowledge the great memories he had collected here and move on, taking on new adventures.

That had been his plan all along, to travel the rest of Europe, the rest of the world. He was a free man, no obligations to his family or the throne. And as such he could do as he pleased, though it still felt strange to him. There was always that small nagging voice in the back of his mind, shouting at him to stay, to return. With time that voice would fade, he hoped. There was nothing tying him to his old life at court anymore, and besides Leith, Greer and a few others, most people wouldn't even notice he was gone.

„How do you know Greer and Leith?“ she was making simple small talk but he unconsciously clenched his jaw, thinking of a suitable answer.

„I spent some years at French court, that is where we met.“ he avoided looking into her eyes, it wasn't a lie, but it still didn't feel completely honest.

„French court, you surely are a mysterious man.“ she smirked at him, her cheeks growing more flushed with every sip.

„Well, tell me about you then. I know your brother Pierre well, what about the rest of your family?“ he was glad to shift the topic of conversation away from him.

„I’m the youngest, my two older sisters, Eloise and Pauline, are already married with children. Our parents have a few chateaus in the south, so it’s just me and Pierre left. He’s in Venice on business and I am to meet a potential husband. He’s a Venetian prince, apparently tall and handsome, a proper Italian, if his portrait can be trusted. I have already exchanged letters with him and he seems decent, smart but not up tight. He loves riding and poetry.“ her eyes were dreamy and she seemed genuinely excited when talking about her suitor.

He could feel the ice breaking between them. She was fun to talk to and wouldn't dwell on uncomfortable subjects.

„As long as he is kind and treats you well.“ he added, instantly remembering Tomas, the cruel Portuguese prince, who had wanted to steel Mary away.

At least she was safe with his brother, he thought. It was ironic in a way, he still felt resentful towards Bash for taking Mary from him, but he knew that his older half brother had always loved Mary, and would never dare hurt her.

„My brother is a good man, he will not sell me off to a beast, I hope.“ she giggled. „But tell me, a handsome rich lord like yourself must have dozen of girls, just waiting to marry you?“

„There are so many other things I want to do or see before marrying, you know?“ he sighted.

Also his heart was still to fragile to attempt another serious engagement with a girl, he added in his mind.

„But there must be at least one girl, you like? Or are you just not interested in that thing in general?“ the wine had evidently loosened her tongue.

He gaped at her in surprise for a moment, had she really just implied that he preferred men? A small laugh broke from his throat as he fidget with the seam of his doublet.

„No, no, not at all. It is just quite complicated.“ he hurriedly tried to explain himself.

„Oh I see. She broke your heart then.“ her voice was kind, but it still stung.

It wasn't a question, just a statement, but he slowly nodded all the same. His chest suddenly felt tighter, his mind revisiting places he had swore himself to forget.

„She … she married someone else.“ he leaned his forehead on his hand, doing his best to collect himself again. It was harder than he had thought, saying it out loud. Somehow it made it more real.

„I am sorry, I didn’t mean to ..:“ he could feel her hand, gently rubbing his arm. He prayed that in the dimly lit room she couldn't see the hurt and tears sparkling in his eyes.

„It is okay. I just … I really loved her.“ why was he even telling her this. He didn't know this girl and despite the wine he still felt surprisingly sober.

He hated to admit it, but in a way it felt good, finally being able to tell another person, taking some of the weight off his chest. The relief he had sought fro so long.

„You know, for what it’s worth, she probably misses you as well.“

A choked laugh escaped his throat.

„She chose to marry my brother.“ he felt the anger rising in his stomach.

She looked at him with big round eyes and he silently cursed himself when he could see the realization dawning in her face.

„I am sorry, I didn’t realize … you …“ he had seemingly rendered her speechless.

He was intently staring a the his hands, twirling the stem of his wineglass between his thumb and index finger, swishing the red liquid around inside.

When the silence became unbearable she continued.

„Your family in Florence, the Scottish Queen, you are Francis the second, the kings son. I am truly sorry about what I said, I didn't want to hurt you. The wine, I just …“

„Don’t apologize. It is the truth after all, I can’t hide from it forever.“ ha faced her again, running his hand through his hair.

He let out a ragged breath, his mind a mess. He took another long sip, trying to calm himself, the wine heating his belly.

„It will get easier, time does help. She doesn't deserve you, and you’ll realize that in time. I know it’s hard, but you will find someone else, someone who's worthy of your love.“ her voice grew more distant and he wasn't so sure anymore if she was still talking about him anymore. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, her hand absentmindedly rubbing her neck and he was simply to exhausted to interrupt her.

-

He woke alone, the sky outside dark and angry. A few days had passed since his conversation with Amélie and his things were once more packed away, ready for his departure.

It hadn't felt like it in the moment, but talking to her had helped a lot. His mind felt lighter and he was finally ready to accept the realness of his situation. Until now, a small part of him would have always hoped, that this was just temporary, that he would return to court and Mary again, that this had all just been a bad dream. Talking about it out loud made it real, made it undeniable.

He was putting on his traveling clothes for the day, just fastening the golden clasp of his belt, when his page burst through the door.

„I apologize, your Highness!“ he bowed and Francis gestured for him to continue.

„My Lord, there have been news from court.“ he stuttered slightly „A letter.“ he extended his hand, handing Francis a small piece of folded and sealed parchment.

Francis was perplexed, he didn't know what he had expected but it certainly hadn't been that. A rushed letter from court, now? Why, he didn't understand.

„What happened?“

„That … that is all I know, I apologize.“ the page was visibly frightened.

„Leave me!“ the boy quickly disappeared behind the wooden door.

He was alone again, staring at the piece of paper in his hands, the seal was his mother’s, the Medici’s emblem. She sent him letters, regularly, but never like this. This wasn't like her, this was too rushed, too sloppy.

He let out a tense breath, trying to calm his spinning mind. The parchment felt heavy between his fingers and he dreaded it’s content. He didn't want to open it, he just wanted to leave, leave France, leave all of this behind.

But a small part of him was curious, hoping for impossible things.

His fingers shook slightly when he tore the seal with one swift motion, unfolding the paper. His heart was pounding in his chest. There were a few rushed lines scattered on the page, he could barely recognize his mother’s normally neat hand.

Suddenly the room around him was spinning, his mind blank. His knees felt weak and his breath caught in his throat

‚Your father is dead.

You need to return.

Mary, I know why she left you.

Catherine’

Chapter Text

12.

Her hurried steps sounded of the dark corridor walls as she followed the guards from her chambers. Her head still felt heavy with sleep and her muscles were straining with every movement. The sudden exercise made her mind spin and she tried focusing her mind, ignoring the darkness creeping up on her.

She was confused, the guards hadn't told her anything besides that she was needed in the courtyard. Was it Henry again, had he summoned them again? The thought made her stomach turn and her hands instinctively sought to protect her belly. The King scared her and she had barely left her chambers since Lola’s death avoiding the mad ruler at all cost. Kenna had always stayed with her keeping her Queen’s company, though her friend was likely more terrified than her.

Her pulse was quickening and she could feel the nervousness rising in her limbs, her fingers shaking and her mouth a thin line. Before they turned the last corner, she halted for one last moment as she braced herself for what might awaits her around the corner. Drawing in air, doing her best to ignore the anxiety clouding her mind, she stepped forward.

There were people gathered, standing in small groups, filling the corridor leading to the court yard. Most were in their night garments, just like her, only wrapped in thin robes, the ladies’ unbrushed hair tumbling from their shoulders as they huddled together to keep warm. What was the meaning of this, it made no sense to her. Her eyes scanned the crowd for any familiar faces and found the the dark head of hair, illuminated by the sparse torch light. She hurriedly tried to wrap her thin night robe tighter around her middle, her belly already to big for most of her garments, hiding the goose bumps covering her skin.

„Bash, what is happening?“ she nearly tripped, momentarily forgetting the weight of her belly, but caught herself just in time as she rushed towards her husband.

The gloomy light was glistening in his eyes as he opened his arms for her, but he seemed unusually tense. Something was terribly worn, she could sense it, almost smell his fear. She had never seen him looking so nervous as he did right now and the suspense was nagging at her.

The hushed voices of the surrounding courtiers filled the corridors and the sky was still pitch black against the windows. It was a warm summer night but the spooky ambiance was sending chills down her back as she caught people staring at her.

„Mary, are you alright?“ Bash enveloped her, placing a quick kiss on her forehead.

She nodded in response, her fingers clinging to his back. It felt so good to hold him close, to feel his warm skin against hers as she allowed herself to relaxing in his arms. He held her tightly, and she could feel his heart pounding against her chest.

„What happened?“ she repeated once more.

„The King, Henry, he … he jumped. They found his body in courtyard.“ he sounded unsteady, his breathing uneven against her skin.

His words took her by surprise and she wasn't sure how to react. It was not what she had expected to hear and her mind was reeling, trying to puzzle together the meaning behind his words. The King had jumped, but why? Was it the madness in his head, had it driven him to jump from a window? Where was he know, instinctively the fear returned.

„Is he, is he dead?“ she whispered the words, their meaning heavy on her tongue.

„Yes, he was already gone when the guards found him.“ he sounded distressed, his voice shaking ever so slightly and his eyes refused to meet hers.

She didn't quite understand why, but relief flooded her body. It was wrong to wish anyone dead, even your worst foe, a sin before god, she knew that. But all that had happened, Lola’s death and the King seemingly growing madder by the hour, had been a heavy burden. If he was truly dead, her mind refusing to quite believe it, it was all over. Peace would return to court and they were finally save, all of them. He was dead, truly gone, he wouldn't hurt anymore people, she wouldn't loose anymore of her friends to his madness. The baby, Bash, her friends, they were all finally save.

She let out a breath, trying to sort through her thoughts. The people around them had grown quite shamelessly staring at the pair as she let go of Bash’s body. They were looking at them expectantly and it took a few for moments till it hit her.

It felt like an iron fist to her stomach, the French King was dead, the throne had passed to anther. The man standing beside her, still shaking as their hands were intertwined, was the new King, the new ruler. It didn't feel real, Bash, the boy who had spent his days hunting and drinking with friends, the charming bastard that would boast stories of his bravery was now King, the most powerful man in France. It was too soon, they were not ready. Her brain was still weary from sleep as a second realization dawned on her, clenching her stomach, she was the French Queen now.

As if on cue, a group of guards rounded the corner, marching towards them.

„The King is dead, long live the King! The King is dead, long live the King!“ more people joined in, and soon there was a respectable chorus forming around them.

Bash let go of her hand, turning towards the chanting people, looking as perplexed as she felt, his eyes scared. They quieted, falling to their knees one by one, bowing before their King. The guards drew their swords, the sound of scraping metal filling the eery silence as they offered their blades up to their new ruler, a pledge of their everlasting loyalty. A tingling sensation prickled through her body, as the surge of adrenaline ignited her blood. Her head suddenly went numb and she felt drunk, the image intoxicating. The people’s faces before her eyes grew slightly blurry as the surge of power clouded her thoughts.
There they were, not yet 20 years of age, the King and Queen of two nations, surrounded by a sea of kneeling people.

-

The rest of the night was restless, she had tossed and turned beneath the covers, trying to find a comfortable position that supported the weight of her belly. Bash’s side of the bed was cold, he had never returned to their rooms, the night’s events demanding his attention.

A part of her was still not sure if she hadn't simply dreamed the whole thing. It all seamed so sudden, so unreal. Henry had jumped from a third floor window and had broken his neck. The whole scene had looked so eery. Small groups of people had gathered in the courtyard, conversing in hushed voices. Henry’s body had rested on the cold floor, his limbs sprawled out. Unlike with Lola, there had been no blood, no visible wounds, only his head and left leg had been contoured at awkward angles. Like a fallen puppet, dropped from it’s strings, he had lain there, the golden crown shimmering beside him in the dark night. Most people had seemed just as shocked as she had been, simply standing there, staring in silence. Finally, one of the council members had called for someone to cover the King’s body, and one of the guards had obliged instantly, using his cloak to shield the the dead from prying eyes.

Bash and some trusted advisors had examined the body as well as the open window on the third floor. There had been no witnesses and people seemed unsure of how the King had left his chambers unnoticed.

Nostradamus had quickly examined the body as well, determining fetal head trauma and a broken neck as the causes of death, before allowing the servants to take his corpse, preparing the fallen King for his last journey to Paris.

She had only glimpsed the old Queen once, just before retiring to her chambers. Cathrine had stood there, beside her husband’s cold body, unmoving like a statue. Her lips thin and eyes hollow, she had kneaded her hands in her lap, fixating on Henry’s unmoving body. It had been impossible to tell, what she had been feeling, her face a lithic mask, not revealing a single emotions. Had she grieved, felt relieved, angry? Mary had been aware of the bruises covering her arms, angry purple marks, she had sought to cover with long dresses. But after all, she had been married to him for over 20 years, had had 10 children with this man, surely she must have felt some sorrow. It was rumored that many years ago they had been happy, in love even. It was hard to imagine, since her return to court they had barely ever looked at each other and the only words that had been spoken, were out of distrust and bitterness for the other. He had taken countless lovers and she had grown more resentful with each one.

The only time she had seen the Queen’s facade waver for one fleeting moment had been, when Cathrine had glimpsed Bash, the anger and wrath burning flashing in her flaming eyes. It had chilled Mary to her bones, the fear rising in her stomach. It had scared her, seeing Cathrine’s reaction and know what the woman was capable of. She might have hope to rid herself of Bash before her husbands death and now that plan had failed and the new King was not her son. But she wouldn't dare to hurt Bash now, would she? It would certainly cost her her head, but Mary knew that the one thing Cathrine valued above all else were her children. It wasn't far fetched to think that she would give her life if it meant securing her children’s stolen birth right.

She made a mental note to tell Bash about her concerns once he returned. Cathrine had tried to kill and rape her before, she wouldn't be so stupid and underestimate the woman again.

She rubbed her eyes, the grey sky slowly turning pink outside her windows, the calm water of the lake shimmering in the morning’s first light. The skin stretching on her expanding belly felt tense, her body heavy. There was no pain, she simply felt so huge, all her movements off. She would barely take five steps for her feet to start aching and for her back to rebel in agony. She knew she was lucky. In their last month of pregnancy women would be confined to their beds, not allowed to move or see the sun light. She would evade that fate, since beside herself and Nostradamus, everyone assumed she had only been pregnant for seven months, when in truth, she was already well into her ninth.

She would stay in bed for now, she decided, ordering her maid to send for breakfast. Sitting up under the covers, granting her lower back some relief, she stretched out her arms, gently massaging her temples.

-

He let his heavy head fall on the backrest of the chair he was currently sitting in. His councilors were eagerly discussing preparations for the funeral and upcoming coronation. But he was simply to exhausted at this point to listen to their endless chatter.

The whole night and morning had been one big blur, countless people had come up to him, his fathers dead body, the guilt and Cathrine’s knowing stare. He pressed his hands against his face, taking in a huge gulp of air, his chest heaving in response. All he wanted, was to return to his bed, close his heavy lids and simply forget everything. But he was the King now, it still felt so wrong, the idea giving him chills. He was the King and Kings didn't enjoy the privilege of rest, decisions had to be made, orders given.

It had all been so grotesque, his father had simply lain there, unmoving, his one leg twisted against his body. He had almost looked peaceful, like a man deep in sleep, his face nestled into the cold earth. His dark crimson cloak had partly covered his body but there had been no blood, no pools of grim black liquid nuzzling around his bare head. The heavy golden crown, the one that was now bedded on a velvet cushion on the table next to him, had survived the fall, had come to a still on the courtyard floor some inches away from it’s previous owner.

All the other people, they had just stood there, unmoving, simply staring at their dead king. He could feel his chest tighten, his breathing growing more ragged. His nails dug into the firm wood of the chair, tears glistening in his red eyes. This was a mess, what had he done?

The chair nearly tripped back as he stood up with such force, the room suddenly growing dead silent.

„You will excuse me.“ he looked at no one in particular as he strode towards the doors and the other lords bowed, their eyes confused at their young King’s sudden outburst.

He could hear the doors fall shout with a dull clank behind him, the emptiness of the cold corridor welcoming him. It was all to much and the hallway started to spin before his exhausted eyes.

He staggered towards the nearest wall, clutching onto it for support, his knees about to give out. His fingers curled into the ridges opening up between the dark stones as his lungs gasped for air. He could feel the blood boil inside his veins, a sudden anger and frustration taking hold of his body. His mind felt as if someone had set it aflame, the images clouding his vision. His lips parted, the desperate scream caught in his throat. He felt the disgust brewing in his stomach, paralyzing his muscles, igniting every nerve ending. His palms clashed against the hard and indifferent wall before him, the hollow sounds rising in his ears. He clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth and he could taste the blood on his tongue, fueling his rage.

He hadn’t heard her coming, her voice reaching his ears out of nowhere, and he froze in place.

„You“ it was a low growl that left her throat. He flinched, he couldn't see her, not able to move his body, turn his head towards the noise, but the sound of rage and despair in her voice was harrowing.

„This will cost you, Bastard!“ there wasn't the slightest hint of fear in her words, as she insulted the King.

Finally, he turned, facing the woman. If looks could kill, her stair would have already stripped him of his heart and drowned his lungs in his own blood. Her normally hazel coloured eyes were pitch black, her clenched fists baring white knuckles.

He gulped in a breath of air, somehow finding the courage in himself to open his mouth, forcing the words off his tongue.

„I am your King, you do not threaten me!“ he could feel himself growing harder, his words gaining strength as he returned her glare.

„You took everything from me, let me assure you that this debt will be repaid. I might not be able to touch you but there is always your wife, the unborn bastard child in her belly.“ she spat out the last words, desperation ringing in her voice.

He winced silently, the mention of his unborn child propelling him forward. His face was inches from Cathrine’s. Her eyes left no doubt, this was no empty threat.

His fingers curled into fists, every muscle in his torso tense and he wanted nothing more than to strange the life from her cold throat. But he stopped himself, his breaths now coming out rushed as he backed away, finally turning to escape along the corridor.

-

„Bash“ her cheerful tone made him flinch. She was propped against a stack of pillows, resting on the bed, a joyful dancing on her lips.

He couldn't face her, couldn't meet her warm eyes.

Her hands were gently caressing her belly, and Catrine’s words shot through his body, stinging like poison. He couldn't loose her, couldn't loose their child. He could feel the tears, filling his tired eyes and all he could do was stare at her, frozen in place, and let them fall.

The warm smile was suddenly wiped off her beautiful face, her eyes growing wide with concern, filling with confusion.

„Bash, what happened? Tell me!“ she scrambled, freeing herself of the thin blanket and lifting herself out of bed.

Her hands were on his face, caressing the stubbly skin on his cheek, her touch so soft, so innocent.

His mind finally caught up, and he pushed her light arms away, staggering backwards.

„No, no! Mary, you need to go, you need to leave, now!“ his voice was unsteady.

„You’re not making any sense. Please speak to me!“ she sounded desperate, her eyes pleading with him.

„It’s … it’s not save here, you need to leave!“

Why wouldn't she listen, why couldn't she understand. He needed her to go, to make her leave. He wouldn't let them die as well, his unborn child so peaceful in he womb.

„I am not going anywhere until you tell me why.“ he flinched at the sudden anger in her voice, as she approached him once more, her hands reaching for his.

And this time, he let her. She wrapped her thin arms around his trembling body, the familiar scent of her long hair in his nose. It felt so comforting, to know her warm body close to his, her heartbeat next to his own. He let his head fall onto her shoulders, burying his face in her sweet neck, soaking in her smell with every ragged breath.

„Please, just tell me, Bash.“ it was a whisper in his ear.

„Mary, I … I …“ his voice broke, he couldn't bring himself to force the condemning words off his tongue.

She drew back just far enough, to glimpse his face, her eyes encouraging him.

Her body froze beneath his touch as the words finally spilled from his cold lips.

Chapter Text

13.

„I … I killed him, Mary.“

„I killed him, I killed my own father.“ the words still rang in her head, and she need to sit down, her feet collapsing beneath her.

The white of her knuckles was shining through her skin, her fingers clutching the arm rest, her belly suddenly seeming too heavy, crushing her lungs beneath it’s weight. She desperately tried to suck in air, her throat rebelling with every breath.

Her thoughts were spinning and at the same time her mind felt numb, completely blank, like the eye of the storm.

Bash was pacing before her, his movements manic, his face buried in his hands. He must have felt her gaze, as he halted and turned towards her. She averted her eyes instantly, not yet daring to face him.

„Please Mary, say something.“ there was an audible tremble in his voice and the hollowness of his words scared her.

„I … I can’t, how … how did it happen?“ it was a whisper and she was not even sure if Bash had heard her.

He had turned away once more, facing the glistening lake outside the window. She could see his chest heaving, his internal fight manifesting in balled fists and a clenched jaw. The silence grew heavy on the room, threatening to crush them both beneath it’s massive weight.

„I just wanted to talk to him, make him see.“ the broken sound of his voice made her flinch. „We were in the hidden passage way, and he just flipped. The anger in him, it overtook him. He, he was threatening me, you, our child. He couldn't even remember killing Lola, Mary. I tried to calm him, really, I tried my best, but he was so far gone.“ the tears were clogging his throat, drowning out his words.

She could hear the sobs, could see them shake his entire body. What was she supposed to do, nothing made sense anymore and she just wanted to shut her ears, forgetting everything. This was not how things had been supposed to go. Marrying him, the false child inside her belly, Bash killing his own father, Lola dead. Her mind was shutting it all out, refusing to accept the truth.

„And the window, we were so close and then he was falling. Mary, I can’t even remember it, remember the moment I killed my own father.“ the horror overshadowed his eyes, the green gone completely.

„Please stop, just please stop.“ she couldn't hear any more of it.

That is why she had woken alone last night, her husband missing as the guards had ripped her from her sleep. He should have been soundly asleep beside her that night, soundly tugged underneath the covers next to her. He had never supposed to have been out in the corridors at that hour. This was not the Bash she had known, the man she had sworn a vow to. The Bash she had known, the brother she had always wished for, would have never been capable of this, killing his own father. This was all her fault, the pain and desperation shimmering in his eyes, it was all because of her.

„You need to go Mary, it’s not save.“ his eyes were suddenly staring at her, the determination clear in his tone.

„Bash, he is dead. Your father is dead and he can’t hurt me, hurt us any longer!“ she propped herself up on her arms, pushing her body into a standing position.

„It’s not him Mary. She knows, Cathrine knows!“ she felt as if someone had sucker punched her, forcing all the air from her lungs.

If there was one person, she feared more then the English, it was the old Queen. The woman’s hatred for her was astonishing, the angry glare in her cold eyes whenever their paths crossed. In the beginning her anger had been fueled by the prophecy, the one foretelling her son’s death if he should ever marry her and the Medici had done everything in her power to save him. As had Mary, she had married Bash, saving Francis’ life in turn. Although her son was saved from certain death, Cathrine would never forgive Mary for stealing her sons’ birthright, weakening their claim to the French throne. It seemed, no matter what Mary did or didn't do, the woman would always despise her. Cathrine wasn't the French Queen anymore, that title now belonged to Mary, but one did good not to underestimate her powerful allies at court. Her knowledge of poisons was renowned all through Europe and the death count formidable. Making her an enemy could cost her and Bash’s heads.

Something had to be done, they might not be able to stop her entirely but they could minimize the damage.

„You cannot let her bully you, Bash. You need to have her arrested, thrown in the dungeons.“ she hoped, her words would get through to him.

It was a mad plan, she knew that, but they had to act, had to do something. No matter how reckless, they had to try, put up a good fight. Cathrine would be ruthless, if she could only find a shred of proof it would mean their certain end. But if they did nothing their deaths were certain.

„I … I can’t Mary. She will find a way to kill you. And the other noble lords, they've never wanted a bastard on the throne. The will not accept it, the old Queen thrown in the dungeon.“ he sounded so utterly hopeless.

She knew that he was afraid, she was as well. Cathrine would do that to people, sometimes that was all it took, she would scare you to the point where that fear alone would drive you insane, render your mind useless.

But she had had enough, had spent enough days wallowing in misery, grieving for all the people she had lost. She would not let them take this from her as well, her crown, Bash, the child. She would fight, until her head found itself on the chopping block if need be, she would not simply give in.

She could feel the determination rising in her body, infusing every cell, flooding her blood stream with adrenaline. It felt so incredibly good, so empowering, like an animal ready to fight, prepared to kill or die trying.

„You have to do this for us, do this one thing Bash. We can not let her win. Imprison her, sentence her for treason, for threatening her King. She isn’t the Queen anymore, not even the Queen mother, merely a French subject. All her power died with you father. And the nobel will never respect you, if you do not show them what kind of King you plan to be. Just do this one thing.“ she sounded more certain than she felt.

It could all go so horribly wrong, she knew that, but it was a risk they would have to take.

He looked at her, and his doubtful green eyes met her determined brown ones and she knew she had done it, convinced him. He rolled his hunched shoulders back, straightening his spine and she could see the determination rising within him as well. Before her eyes, he was turning into the King he was, the timid boy gone, overshadowed by the strong and confident man before her.

A maid had put his crown one a cushioned display on one of the dressing tables and she reached for the golden headpiece, the embellished stones catching the sunlight. It felt heavy in her hands as she carefully positioned it upon Bash’s brown hair, it fit perfectly. He looked different, regal, something she had never expected to see in his familiar face, but it filled her with pride.

Before she could retreat, he gently cupped her face with his hands, placing a sweet kiss to the soft skin on her forehead.

„You truly are my Queen.“ he smiled at her and she could feel her lips doing the same.

-

What she and Bash had done might cost them along the road but for now the utterly horrified look on Cathrine’s face, as the guards had escorted her out, filled Mary with satisfaction. How long she had waited for this moment, to finally know the old Queen behind thick iron bars. Of course they would never fully be save from her fury and retribution but this had been a step in the right direction.

They had made sure to only post guards, loyal to her and Bash outside her cell. Some of the men even stemmed from Mary’s personal guard, born in Scotland with a distaste for everything French in their blood. She had been stripped of all her belonging and no one was to visit her without the King’s explicit approval.

A hush had fallen upon the throne room as the woman had been led to the dungeons, flanked by heavy armored men, and her vengeful screams at filled the air, cursing Bash and throwing insults at his Queen.

The other courtiers had been utterly perplexed, open mouths gaping at the scene before them, no one uttering a word. They had not expected this, and the mutual feeling of surprise had rendered most speechless, until a cry filled the room.

A young lord, Mary had never spoken to, but had seen Bash interact with multiple times, broke the silence around them.

„Long live the King. Long live the King.“ he chanted and the people joined in.

Soon, the better part of the crowd was shouting in union, some lords’ loud voices booming through the hall while the ladies kept their tones polite and small. It filled Marry’s chest with warmth, all the people cheering for their new King.

Some of the faces however had turned to stone, clenched fists, and angry daggers in their eyes.

„Traitors, this will not stand!“ one of the older noble man spoke out, the chant quieting.

„This is a betrayal of the French throne, Bastard!“ another joined the first man.

Mary could see their glares, intently directed towards Bash beside her, and she could feel a chill creeping up her arms. Was this it, had they already lost, so soon?

Before she could indulge the thought any further, the group of men before them turned, angrily exiting the hall, their wives trailing not far behind.

Mary breathed out in relief as she could see their opponents’ backs disappearing into the corridor and she reached for her husband’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

He returned the gesture and it gave her strength to know, whatever they would face, they would face it together.

-

„I still can’t believe you actually imprisoned Cathrine.“ Kenna giggled, as she held a dress to her waist, angering her graceful body before Mary’s long dressing mirror.

Mary just nodded in response, her maid helping her into her gown, a modest cut, all in black. It was the same one she had worn for Lola’s burial weeks ago and the memories were still fresh in her head, but the dress felt too tight, not fitting properly around her middle. Even her custom made gowns would barely fit her anymore, as her belly was growing larger by the day and she knew it would not be much longer. Thankfully she wasn't forced to tie herself into constricting corsets that would crush her lungs any longer, pregnant women were at least spared that fate.

It had been a few day’s since Cathrine’s imprisonment and Kenna was the only friend she had still left, with Lola gone and Greer in Paris. The bruises, marks Henry had left her with, were still evident on her arms and neck, but the dark violet colour had failed, slowly turning into green and yellow spots on her pale skin. Kenna seemed so much happier and freer since the news of the King’s sudden death, the relief lifting a heavy weight from her shoulders. She was nearly her old self again, happily babbling away next to Mary, her jokes making her Queen laugh, the mischief glittering in her dark eyes again.

Mary couldn't say that she felt happy in that moment, the fear of Cathrine and her supporters still haunting her, the worry about her child and husband making her lie awake at night. But she felt better at times, sometimes forgetting her sadness, even though she wouldn't move much these days, her belly confining her to her chambers, she would talk to Kenna and Bash, even listening to Bash’s talks of politics. The stress of their current situation was always present and dark thoughts would sometimes cloud her mind. Lola’s passing was still so fresh and whenever Kenna would greet her in the mornings, alone, she would feel a pang of pain, the lost of her lady, her friend, still agonizing.

The reality, of what had happened the past days, was sometimes lost on her, her mind unable to cope. She would just push it all away as far as possible, afraid of the pain it might cause her. The numbness in her brain made her feel stronger and fearless. Surprisingly, the absence of any feelings of pain, guilt or fear helped her cope with her current situation, enabled her to act. Whenever Bash would hug her, gently kiss her, she would smile, but at the same time feel dead on the inside. Pushing all the things, she feared away, also meant distancing herself from any other positive emotion. Half of France despised her and Bash, her friend was dead, the love of her life lost and the baby inside her not her husband’s but all of that seemed so far away, and it couldn't reach her at this moment. She felt cold, her heart a frozen stone inside her chest, but it made her strong. Not letting herself be affect by any crushing feelings had turned her into ice, but had at the same time made her fearless, reckless even.

She knew that she couldn't keep it up forever. At some point the save dam she had build, keeping it all back, would burst and it would all catch up to her, tear her down once more, rip it all away again, she new that. But now was not that moment and that was all she cared for. It was her choice, and for the time being, she decided, it was better to feel nothing at all than drown in the pain.

The maid had finished tying up he bodice and had secured her layered skirts around her waist, the smooth fabric caressing her belly. The young girl bowed, leaving the Queen and her lady behind.

„You know, I think we will all be okay. Horrible things have happened, but we are still here, still alive.“ Kenna reached for her arm with a reassuring smile.

She must have noticed how lost in thought Mary had been.

„I know.“ she nodded.

„The midsummer celebrations are next week and I think it wont be too long until your little one arrives.“ there was a slight smirk dancing on Kenna’s lush lips.

„Let’s hope for a boy.“ she didn't particularly care for the child’s sex but she knew that a male heir would secure Bash’s claim, even if it wasn't his child.

She sighted, not willing to linger on the topic, she was still afraid of the birth but she didn't want to discuss it, just forget it for as long as possible.

Kenna just smiled politely, probably having realized that her friend was not in the mood and directed her gaze outside the window.

They remained in silence for some minutes, both lost in thought until Kenna gasped.

„Look, look, there are carriages arriving, probably for the funeral.“ she pointed outside the window but Mary simply nodded, not particularly thrilled at the idea of more guests she would have to greet later.

But something flipped inside her, her whole body tensing up at the sound reaching her ears. Trumpets, echoing through the through the thick castle walls. Their melody, it could only mean one thing.

„A royal visitor?“ Kenna seemed as perplexed as her „But who could possibly …“ her voice trailed off as the realization dawned on her face, her eyes growing wide.

Mary felt numb, her whole body suddenly frozen in place, unable to move. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart rebelled in her chest, violently pounding against her ribs.

Her hands clutched her stomach, that suddenly felt ten times heavier, threatening to topple her whole body over.

„Francis“ it was barely more than a whisper.

This was not happening. No, she couldn't see him, not after all this time, after all those months spent awake in her bed at night, longing for his touch, she couldn't do this. She couldn't face him, she had spent half a year building a thick wall around herself and she knew, only a glimpse of those blue eyes would send it all crushing down. Six months she had spent, accepting her new life, never once expecting this. She couldn't keep lying to him, his child visible in her swollen belly, the though caused her stomach to tighten and she felt sick again. It was too much, she couldn't stay strong, it would break her and she could already feel the tears welling in her eyes.

„Mary, dear.“ she felt Kenna’s gentle hands on her shoulders, as her friend tried to comfort her.

„I … I … I can’t … I just …“her mind was racing and she wasn't even sure what she had wanted to say.

She didn't know where she found the strength, her knees wobbling beneath her but she rose and approached the door.

This was madness, her breath was still ragged and the tears clouded her vision as she hurried along the corridors. She knew she should stop, return to her chambers, but she couldn’t, something deep inside her forcing her onwards and her frail body obliged.

A crowd had already gathered around the main entrance and she could make out Bash’s figure in the very front, ready to welcome the visitor.

The carriage door opened and a head peaked out, making her heart jump, but it wasn't him. The hair was darker, the build taller, as the men exited and took in his surroundings, seeming mildly surprised at the respectable welcoming comity.

She already wanted to turn away, thinking herself foolish for automatically assuming it was him. There were dozens of other royal families in Europe and what we're the chances, surely he was already far away, enjoying the sun in some tropical city, his life in France long forgotten. She was ready to return to her chambers when a murmur went through the crowd and everyone fell silent.

Her eyes looked back for just one fleeting moment and there he was, a blond head of locks, so familiar she would have recognized it anywhere.

It was him, in flesh and blood, just meters away from her, really him. Before he turned to face the gathered crowd, he extended a hand and helped a girl from the carriage.

It ripped through her like a lightning bolt. Seeing another girl at his side, it made her stomach sick. She was pretty, a fair face and long blond waves, and she was undeniably smiling at him.

She could feel all the air being squeezed from her lungs as she froze, simply staring at the pair, helplessly. Her heart threatened to explode in her chest as he slowly turned and she could feel his eyes fall on her. The icy blue piercing right though her heart and the look he gave made it all fall apart.

He didn't seem to react at first as he just stood there and stared and she wasn't sure if he had actually seen her. But his whole face turned to ice, a hollow sadness in his face as his eyes found her belly.

Chapter Text

14.

He had tried to prepare himself, to brace his heart for what he would encounter. But absolutely nothing could have readied him for the moment his eyes had caught her figure.

She just stood there staring back at him and he felt so numb, his body unable to move. All the people around them vanished. Amélie, Pierre, the whole crowd, they were all gone.

All he could see was her, those familiar eyes that had haunted him in his dreams for months, those same two dots of brown were now intently fixed on him. Was it anger flicking in them, or maybe even fear? It was impossible to tell.

He could see her mouth falling slightly open in surprise, but otherwise her pale face remained an unreadable mask, revealing no emotion. Her hands had moved lower on her body and his eyes followed.

The sudden sickness that overcame him nearly knocked him over and his heart revolted in pain. Even the numerous thick layers of her black gown couldn't hide it, her hands were clutching her huge swollen stomach.

His mind went black with anger and pain, his whole body suddenly numb. He wasn't sure what he had expected, coming here, what good it could have possibly done. All of this had been a huge mistake, he should have just left for Florence as he had planned. What had he expected, she was married now, married to his brother and that would not change. She was married and carrying his brother’s child in her belly. He could feel his once healed heart already falling to pieces again in his chest.

It was simply too much, he couldn't take it anymore and the hurt and confusion must have shown on his face, for Amélie tucked at his arm, her eyes filled with worry.

„Francis, are you alright?“ she whispered to him and all he could muster was a heavy nod.

They moved forward, towards the crowd of people gathered to greet them.

„I present his Highness, Francis the Second de Valois, Lord Bourgois and the Lady Amélie.“ the voice of the announcer boomed.

He bowed and Pierre and Amélie, who had her arm linked through his, followed his lead. When he rose, his eyes caught his brother, who acknowledged him with a small nod of the head. Bash looked so different, older and his face had grown harder in the course of mere months. The burdens of the new crown on his head were already showing.

His brother, his older bastard born half brother, Bash, now the French King. It seemed so unreal, felt so eternally wrong.

This was not how things had supposed to go, his brother King with Mary by his side. How had things gone so utterly and completely wrong?

Bash offered him a polite welcome but the words that left his mouth never reached Francis’ ears. His brain seemed unable to react and he just stared at his brother, who, after a moment of confusion, turned before him and retreated back into the castle, flanked by heavy armed guards. When he could feel the hands in the crowd slowly turning from him and following their king, he allowed his eyes to move from their fixed point again, as they flickered over the crowd, searching. They found the spot in the very back, she had occupied just minutes before, but it was empty now. She was already gone, had disappeared into thin air and his heart grew heavy.

The letter, the crumbled piece of parchment felt so heavy in his pocket. This was so foolish, he should have never listened to his mother’s pleas, never returned to this cursed place. No matter what his mother knew or suspected of Mary’s motives to marry Bash, it was irrelevant now, some things could not be undone.

„Francis?“ Amélie tucked at his doublet.

His eyes flickered back to her, the brown speckles on green ground frowning at him. He took in a breath, gathering his mind, trying to push of all his overwhelming emotions as far back as possible. His hands were curled up into fists and his jaw clenched in an effort to stay calm, concealing the mess inside his head.

„I am so sorry for you, seeing her again must have been excruciating. And in her present condition, I …“

„I’m fine, thank you for your concerns.“ it came out cold and abrupt.

He hadn't meant for it to sound so abrasive but he didn't need her petty, there was still a decent amount of people gathered around them, eyeing him in curiosity, and the last thing he needed was to break down in front of the court.

He pushed her hand away, he couldn't stand it, all the people staring at him, the sympathy and petty thick in their eyes. Ever since the wedding, people would approach him, ask questions he couldn't and wouldn't answer. He had heard the whispers following him everywhere, the uncrowned prince, the King’s unfavored son.

The whispers would grow louder again, now that he had retuned to court. People would gossip, say he wanted to challenge his brother, seek revenge and reach for the crown himself.

It was the last thing he desired, he simply sought to live his life in peace, away from all his painful memories, his brother, Mary. And he would have never returned, if it hadn't been for his mother letter, the promise of closure. Ever since Mary had thrown those words at him, months ago after their last kiss, he had wondered. The questions and doubts had kept him awake at night, never leaving his mind as they followed him like a dark shadow at day. Why, why had she left him? Why had she said those words? Had she meant them? How hadn't he seen it coming? And most importantly of all: Had she truly never loved him, had it all been one big lie, a giant illusion from the start? Had she only ever coveted him for the King he one day would be and not for the man that must bare the heavy crown?

He had come up with empty answers and unsatisfactory excuses in an attempt to set his mind to rest and after a while it had started to work. Her face would keep from his dreams at night and he had been able to wander the Parisian streets without seeing her figure, her hair, her eyes around every corner. His lungs had been able to breath again, his bruised heart had slowly put itself back together piece by piece, beating stronger with every passing day.

He hadn’t completely forgotten her of course, sometimes his mind would still wander and his thoughts would find her again, buried deep in his heart, and he would freeze for one moment, before shaking it off, pushing her away once more.

His mother’s letter had stirred up all those old memories and painful emotions again, a shock to his entire system. He had had no other choice, if there was only a glimmer of hope that Cathrine could truly tell him why, why she had done it, he would chase after that chance, no matter how slim and unattainable. It would give him the closure he had sought for so long, would finally set him free after all these months. She was married now, pregnant even, he could not change that, but he could change, would finally bid her memory one last goodbye.

„I will go, look for my mother.“ he didn't look at Amélie or her Pierre, just wanting to get away.

The castle felt so cold despite the warm weather as the thick stone walls kept out the summer’s heat. He kept his eyes straight ahead, avoiding peoples glances in the corridors, as he hurried along, his steps echoing off the walls.

It was strange, there was the door to his mother’s chambers, but there were no guards, normally her rooms where heavily protected at all time. She wasn't the French Queen anymore, he knew that, but still it struck him as odd.

He knocked, once, twice, finally hammering his fists against the door as no one answered.

„Mother, are you in there? Open the door, please.“ he knew he sounded desperate but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Finally his hand stilled, waiting for any reaction from the other side, but nothing happened. He gripped the handle and pulled, as hard as he could. The heavy wood wouldn't move, not even an inch.

He was dumbfounded, where was his mother. She hadn't greeted him in the yard and her chambers were locked and empty. He couldn't make sense of it as a heavy feeling settled in his stomach.

He simply stayed before the locked door, waiting, not knowing for what or who. He was lost, and his mind to exhausted to command him otherwise.

Minutes past, before he heard light footsteps approaching from behind and they stopped, just meters from where he stood. As he turned he could see the fear in the young girl’s eyes. She wanted to retreat but he was faster.

„Stop!“ she froze in place her eyes growing wide.

„Tell me, where is my mother?“ this time he truly sounded angry, not able to keep the frustration out of his voice.

She gaped at him for a moment, and he thought he could see her shoulders tremble, it didn't move him.

She curtsied, and fidgeting with her maid apron before she finally opened her mouth.

„M’lord, my apologies. The lady Cathrine is … is indisposed.“

„What do you mean, indisposed. Where is she?“ she flinched at his tone, but the anger and frustration clouded his mind, and he didn't care.

„In … in … the dungeons. The King … he …“ he could barely make out anything, her voice was trembling so heavily.

The dungeons, but it didn't make any sense. Why would she be there and not her in her chambers.

He decided, it didn't matter, he had to find her. He rushed past the maid, who was still frozen in place, the fear written all over her face. This time he barely noticed the people, looking at him as he strode past, his steps angry and determined.

The entrance to the dungeon was heavily guarded, but as he meant to pass the armored men lifted there lances, obstructing his path.

„My Lord, no on is to enter, by the King’s word.“ the man who had spoken wouldn't meet his eyes.

„I was told my mother was here. I will see her!“ he could feel the anger starting to boil over in his stomach.

„My Lord, the Lady Cathrine has been imprisoned by the King’s command. No one is too see her.“ the guard was chewing on his bottom lip, the awkwardness of the situation apparent in his tight face.

His hands clenched into fists once more and he could feel a sudden rage pulsing through his veins, blurring his thought.

„You will let me pass, I will see my mother!“ he took another step, ready to push the guards’ lances aside but the other man was faster. His huge hand landed on Francis’ chest, keeping him at a save distance.

Francis tumbled backwards a few steps, the action taking him by surprise. He was used to being treated with respect, guards and servants always bowed to his every command, never once questioning his word. It only further fueled the anger, rising in his chest, and his features contoured with rage.

„This will not stand. There will be consequences.“ he turned on his heels, furious.

What was his half-brother thinking. He had always trusted Bash, viewed him as part of his family, his brother even. Had the power risen to his head so quickly? Why else would he dare throw his mother into a dark cell, locking up the old Queen.

He had only one aim before his eyes, finding the King, his dear brother. The throne room was empty when he reached it, only a few courtiers still lingering from the mornings public audience.

His head was practically fuming by the time he reached the royal chambers, the angry veins one his forehead, clearly visible through his reddened skin.

„The King is not in his chambers.“ one of the Bash’s private guards informed him, but he didn't care.

Before the man could stop him, he was throwing his fists against the heavy wood, his angry knocks echoing of the corridor’s walls.

When the armored man finally managed to pull him away from the door, another guard rushing to help, he was still rebelling, trying to rid himself of the strong arms on his body.

„I do not care, I will wait for the King!“ his spat the words out, glaring at the guards.

Suddenly the door before them opened and the guards as well as Francis stilled in their movements, their eyes locking on the door.

He could feel all the air rushing form his lungs, it felt as if someone had hit him in the chest, hard.

Her dark eyes were glued to his figure, the shock evident in her slightly parted lips. She looked as confused as he felt, her eyes now wandering to the two guards, who were still restraining his arms.

„Let him go.“ she sounded slightly unsteady, her eyes still locked on him and he just stared at her.

„I said, let him go. I command it, as your Queen.“ there was more determination in her words this time as she glared at the guards and they let go momentarily, scuffling away.

Of course, how could he have forgotten. She was the French Queen, his ruler, now. It was only logical that she would reside in the royal chambers with her loved husband. It all still felt so foreign, so wrong. His father dead, his mother imprisoned, his bastard half-brother the King, married to his former fiancee, it was comedic in some ways, a cruel joke.

He barely managed to steady himself, the men’s missing weight causing a sudden lost of balance. He had missed seeing her, knowing her so close but it also scared him and he recoiled.

His jaw clenched and his whole body tensed up as he meant to turn away but she stopped him before he could even take the first step.

„Francis, what are you doing here?“ she sounded softer, the commanding queenlike tone completely vanished from her voice.

„My father’s funeral.“ it wasn't true but that had been his pretense for coming all along.

„No, I mean what are you doing here, before my chambers?“ he couldn’t decipher the look in her eyes.

Her eyes looked so warm and welcoming, and it scared him. This was how he'd had wished for her to look at him for the past half year and now that he was actually standing before her, he felt so empty, his body so useless.

„I … I …“ his voice failed him.

All the anger suddenly fled from his mind as he saw her lips curl up ever so slightly into the faintest of smiles. It was barely there and it might have been out of pity, but it was a smile after all. All the reasons for his rage were suddenly forgotten. His mothers imprisonment, his anger at Bash, it all seemed so distant in this moment.

Only one thing remained, the question that had haunted him for months.

„Why, Mary?“ he could feel the tears rising in his eyes and hurriedly blinked them away.

She gaped at him, her brown eyes growing sad and her hands flew to her huge belly, protectively shielding it, as if to hide it from his view.

„You know why, I …“ now it was her turn to be speechless as her voice broke mid sentence.

„No, I don’t, Mary. You have all you have ever wanted, the French King by your side, the alliance, the power. You won and the least you owe me is a simple explanation.“ he pressed the words out and it hurt but he intently focused his mind on keeping the tears from his eyes, on staying strong in this one moment.

Seeing her like this, pregnant with his brother’s child, it was a visible remainder of the path she had chosen, the one that didn't include him. The hurt was pulsing in his heart and he could feel all the patched up pieces tearing apart once more, slowly breaking again, for her.

„I told you, I couldn't marry you because I … I …“ a tear escaped her eye and she hastily wiped it away with her sleeve.

„You don't love me.“ the word stung on his tongue and he could see her recoil in response.

Another tear slipped onto her pale cheek and her hand tried to cover the sob escaping her throat.

„Please Francis, just leave. Don’t make this any harder.“ the sobs where now shaking her whole figure and the pain was evident in her eyes.

The confusion stirred up anger again, how could she say that, she had no right.

„I am making this hard? You are the one who left me, who took everything from me. And here you stand, in my brother’s chambers, his child in your belly, and you dare to tell me that this is hard for you. You do not get to tell me that, you haven't earned that right.“ his voice was booming in the corridor and he could see her flinch.

He hadn’t meant for it to sound so harsh, but he just couldn't stop himself, it was the truth after all He loved her and she had used that love to destroy him, beaten him down.

The tears were now freely flowing in her eyes, dripping from her shaking chin. She looked so small and helpless, her hands holding onto her belly for dear life. The hurt in her eyes as he had flung the words at her, it only intensified his own misery.

Why wouldn't she just tell him, make it easier for them both.

„Francis, please. Don't make me. I can’t tell you, please, just go.“

„No Mary, I will not leave before you tell me. You’re married and pregnant with an heir, and whatever it is you're hiding wont change that. Just say it, you owe me that much.“ he took one step in her direction and she stumbled against the wall behind her.

He could see the pain in her eyes as she tried to stop herself.

„I … I lied. I never …“ a scream cut her off.

She bent forward, her body contorting in pain, one hand still clutching her enormous belly as the other tried to cling to the wall in an effort to keep her body upright. But her fingers slipped and she fell forward, her body colliding into his.

He was so perplexed, the shock of feeling her against him again, the smell of her hair, took over his mind. He hadn’t touched her in so long and head missed her body so dearly. The way her arms were pressed against his chest, her sweet dark hair partially covering his face.

He staggered backwards, her weight threatening to topple him over as well. But he caught him self just in time as he wrapped his arms around her body, keeping them both upright. She felt so familiar, so good, so right.

Another scream tore from her throat and he could feel her hand clawing into his shoulder, as a wave of pain rocked her body.

He was overwhelmed, not knowing what to do as his mind went black in shock. Mary, was pressed against his chest, her hand holding onto his shoulder for dear life. She was in agony, in so much pain and each of her screams violently ripped at his heart.

People where approaching from the other end of the hallway, two maids hurrying towards them. Mary’s screams must have alerted the whole castle.

„Francis, the baby … it …“ her voice was breathless as she tried to form a coherent sentence, her eyes pleading as they locked with his and another scream shook her body.

Chapter Text

15.

Her eyes were pleading with him and she looked so desperate as the maids tried to free her from his grasp. In response she just grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt even tighter, small whimpers escaping her throat. He had his arms still protectively wrapped around her shaking body, his mind at a total loss.

This was wrong, yet if felt so right, so good to feel her against him after so long, her familiar smell clouding every logical thought. His body was so intently familiar with every inch of hers, she fitted into his arms perfectly, like two half forming a whole. His brain screamed to let go, but his body refused, only clutching her tighter.

„Your Majesty, the baby is coming. You need to lie down.“ the maid’s voice was pulling him back into the present.

This was all wrong, she wasn’t his, she hadn't chosen him. The realization sank in and he finally took his arms from her body and gently loosened her grip on his clothing, forcing her to let go. Without another word he backed away, staggering back against the wall as the maids half dragged, half carried her back into her chambers.

„Francis“ it was one last cry of desperation that left her lungs and it stung.

He flinched, the sight of her tear filled eyes, begging him to return, to not leave her, too much. There was nothing he would rather do but he couldn’t. She wasn't his wife and it wasn't his child in her belly that made her scream out in pain. He felt the confusion of the situation take over his body, leaving behind a numbing sensation and trembling hands.

The doors flew shut with a bang but he could still hear her agonizing screams, each stinging like a sharp needle, piercing his skin. She was in pain and he so desperately wanted to help, to be by her side, but he couldn’t and it tore him apart inside.

-

He was leaning against a window sill in the great hall, his thoughts as lost as the hurried clouds in the sky outside. He had tried to get as far away from the western wing, which consisted mostly of the royal chambers, but her screams now filled the whole castle.

Everyone around was whispering in hushed voices, the tension palpable in the stuffy air. Will the chid live, will it be a boy, will France have a new heir, a new Dauphin?

He hadn’t thought about it, but technically that title was his again, or at least until the child was born. People had addressed him as Dauphin, bowed before him and it had taken him by surprise. He had left this life behind, the life were he had been tied to the throne and the future King. He had never felt particularly regal but now the thought made him shudder. All he wanted was to leave, to put as much distance a possible between him and this cursed place. He needed to find away to speak to his mother, find out what she had wanted to tell him. He would take her with him, back to Italy, Bash at the very least owed him that much. He had gotten it all, the woman, the crown, the perfect life and wasn't it just fair that he left Francis and his family in peace in return.

Another distant scream filled the hall and he could feel his jaw tightened. It had been hours since her tear filled face had disappeared between the wooden door and he wasn't entirely sure how much more he could take.

What had she meant, she had lied? About what part, why couldn't she simply tell him? He ran his hand through his unruly locks, a sigh escaping his lungs. He knew that she was hiding something, had been keeping a secret for all these months but he couldn't make sense of any of it. He had seen it in her eyes back then, tasted it on her mouth that evening she had destroyed everything. The pain had been hiding in her strong brown eyes all along but he couldn't figure out why. It was impossible to tell apart what had been a lie and what the truth. Had she truly never loved him, had it all been just one big charade, a mere illusion on his part? Had he read too much into her actions, their kisses and how every touch had electrified his skin? It made him sick to think that none of it had been real and at the same time he despised the idea of her lying to him all this time. He had loved her unconditionally, even killed for that love, and no matter how terrible the secret she was hiding, her betrayal tore at his already weak heart. She had broken their trust and nothing could ever repair that. If he could ever forgive her for her betrayal, for taking everything from him, it would take more than time and he wasn't sure he would be willing to try. She had driven a wedge between them and where had it led them, they both were miserably, he had seen it in her eyes.

He rubbed his temple, anxious to empty his mind of the useless thoughts and painful memories. He had to stop, had to erase the wishful voices, telling him that maybe she still loved him and all of this had just been one huge understanding. It would only lead to more disappointment, he had learned that much. He bit his lip, trying to focus his mind on other matters.He couldn't change what had happened and lingering on the topic wouldn’t help.

The other people in the hall were staring at him, waiting for him to show even the slightest sign of weakness. All of France knew of his and Mary’s shared history, the once so golden couple now nothing more but laughable gossip, whispered into ears behind his back. They all knew and it took every little ounce of strength left in his tired body to keep it together, to not break down in tears here before the whole court.

Thankfully Amélie appeared before him, a tall dark haired man at her side.

„Francis, this is Piero Strozzi, one of your mothers cousins.“ he acknowledge the other man with a small nod.

„Count, this is Francis the Second, Dauphin of France.“ she smiled and vanished in the crowd, leaving the two men behind.

„Your Highness, I am delighted to meet you at last. Your mother is family, and a dear friend.“ he bowed, smiling at Francis.

„The pleasure is mine. Has my mother sent you?“ maybe this was his chance to find out more at last.

„I apologize, has no one told you yet?“

„Told me what?“ he furrowed his brow.

„His Majesty the King has imprisoned and sentenced her for treason.“ the other man suddenly looked quite uncomfortable, fidgeting with his fingers.

His breath caught in his throat, the shock momentarily paralyzing his body. What had Bash done?

„On what grounds?“ it strained him to keep his voice low, the fury, rising within him, contained.

„Threatening the King and his family.“ the count intently concentrated on his feet as if he feared Francis slapping him any moment.

„This, this cannot stand!“ his jaw clenched and he could feel the heat rising under his skin.

„I agree, your Highness. There have been rumors, rumors concerning your father’s death.“

Francis simply stared at him, the shock of what the man had just told him, still blinding in his mind.

„Not here.“ he wasn't sure what the man was about to share with him, but he was sure that it was a conversation better had in private.

He pulled him into an empty corridor and motioned for him to continue.

„Rumors, that the bastard King is to blame for your father’s death.“ the count’s voice was a whisper but still, the words rang heavy in his head.

This simply could’t be true, Bash killing their father? No, no there had to be a mistake, a misunderstanding. His brother would never do that, never risk regicide just to seize the throne for himself.

His mind was reeling, trying to sort through all the blazing emotions. Nothing made sense anymore, his whole life just seemed like a giant storm hurling confusing and contradictory events at him, one after another, hitting him harder each time.

When he didn't answer, the count continued.

„There is more, there have been revolts here in France, organized by lords that refuse to accept the new King. The people are angry, they don't want a bastard on the French throne.“

„This does not concern me.“ he buried his face in his hands, his head throbbing.

„But it does, your Highness. France relies on our families money and the Medici are not willing to further fund an illegitimate ruler.“ the man grew more confident with every word, like a vender, pricing his goods to Francis.

He had heard enough, what the count was implying, it was unthinkable. He wouldn't listen to another word, he just needed to get away, fell the fresh air in his lungs.

„You will excuse me.“ he rushed past the man, who just gaped after him as he disappeared behind a corner.

-

The fresh air felt so good on his skin, a warm summer breeze tossing his hair. The funeral had ended and he had finally found time to tear himself away from the others’ pity filled eyes. He was alone, no one else in the gardens, everyone within the castle walls enjoying the funeral banquet and eagerly awaiting the royal birth.

He took in and released the air from his lungs, refreshing his whole body and calming his messy mind. This was exactly what he had needed, a moment just to breath and clear his head.

It was a gorgeous day, only a few fluffy clouds dancing in the blue sky and the lake was calm, even as a mirror as it reflection the sun’s rays. Birds were singing in the trees and the fountain was cheerfully spewing squirts of crystal water.

The suns warmth embraced his skin as he stretched the strained muscles in his arms and legs, rolling his head in an effort to relax his tight neck. The soft grass felt like soft pillows under his feet and the apple trees were in full bloom, bees dancing around their leafs.

The trees held so many happy memories and the thoughts of his childhood made him smile.

They had climbed every tree, explored even the remotest corners of the gardens, getting as close as they had dared to the surrounding forrest. They had never been bored for a minute, always chasing adventures, conquering them together. She had always squealed, ferociously chasing after them, her legs not long enough to keep up with the boys. Throwing balls at each other and giggling behind there hands, cowering behind some of the old ruins, as their governess called out for them with desperate cries.

Sometimes the dark haired girl had screamed at them in frustration, as she was not as strong as fast as her two playmates. She would stomp her tiny feet and barricade herself in her rooms, refusing to let anyone in for hours at a time. It had taken him a lot of patience and practice to make her leave her hide out. He would tell her stories while she sniffed behind the door, but after a while the noises on the other side would turn into giggles, hushed at first but growing bolder by the minute. After a few more moments she wouldn't be able to stop herself and would unlock the door, eagerly turning the key. The smile he had received when her head finally appeared in the gap would fill his young heart with warmth. She would throw herself in his arms and he would return the hug, pulling her body closer than the governess or his mother would have ever allowed it, his whole face glowing with joy at being reunited with his best friend.

That was how he wanted to remember her, the bold girl with the strong eyes, her resounding laughter filling his ears. His best friend, the one person that had made him leave his shell of insecurity and shyness once she had arrived at French court. Her Scottish accent still thick in her every word, but he had always adored that about her. She hadn't been like the other girls, always worrying about their stupid dresses and perfect hair. She hadn't cared, climbing trees and tumbling in the lush gras, her beautiful locks messily flying to all sides and the delicate fabric of her dress had always been stained by mud and wrinkles. When the governess had scolded her for her inappropriate behavior, this was not how a nobly lady, let alone a Queen, should behave, she had simply suppressed a giggle and had shot him a wicked look.

They had been young and innocent, oblivious to the drama that would follow, ignorant to politics or the power games their parents had played behind their back. If only a smudge of their happy childhood had remained, maybe things would have turned out differently.

He let out a sigh, lost in the memories, the soft gravel crunching under his feet. Walking here, in the gardens, all on his own, he could imagine that nothing had changed, they were still just children, no talk of crowns or politics spoiling their freedom and hearts.

This had been the spot were he had first kissed her, he had been desperate in that moment as well. The frustration had made him forget his manners for a split second and he had found himself so close to her, the sweet scent of her soft locks intoxicating. He had felt the surprise on her full lips at the sudden contact, but her face had relaxed in his hands and she had given in. The warmth that had flooded his body, had made his mind dizzy and everything else had fallen away. The way her lips had felt against his, their movement so in sync, it had dazzled him. Of course he had kissed other girls before but it had never felt like this. Every single cell of his body had been electrified, his senses magnified as he had tasted her sweet mouth, loosing himself in her. He had felt her blush against his touch, had sensed the heat rising in her face as she had given herself up to him and had returned his passion. Nothing had ever felt so right in his life and he silently cursed the moment his lips had left hers and his hands had lost her touch.

He could feel the pain returning, hot and sharp in his chest and the image of her face hovering before his eyes made him wince. That was all it was now, all it would ever be, a memory.

A dark head of hair appeared before his blurry eyes and he only now noticed the tears clouding his vision. His breath froze for a moment, but when he blinked the tears away, the disappointment was strong in his bones, it wasn’t Mary, who stood before him, of course it wasn’t.

„Francis, there is something you need to know.“ Kenna’s voice sounded uneasy, the concern flickering in her eyes.

He stared at her in confusion for a brief moment, unsure how to respond.

She sat down on one of the marble benches that lined the paths, smoothing out her dress and gesturing for him to sit down beside her.

He complied, his aching feet thankful for the short rest, as he waited for her to continue.

There is something you need to know, and I know that it shouldn't be me, telling you this but …“ her voice trailed off, unsure how to express her thoughts.

„But what?“ he bore his eyes into her dark ones, hoping to force the answer from her lips.

There were so many things they had kept from him, secrets only he didn't know and he no longer cared who told him. They had all been in on it, he knew it. They all knew why Mary had done what she had done, he had felt it in their stares, their pitiful faces. He could sense the anger rising within his stomach again, his friends, they had all betrayed him, and it hurt.

„I … I know I shouldn't tell you, Mary will hate me for it. But there has been a change in circumstance and I feel like you need to know.“ her voice was small and he could feel her tremble beside him.

He ran both his hands through his messy hair again, the frustration making him want to scream. Why did they all have to talk in riddles, Kenna, his mother, Mary? Why couldn't they simply tell him, what was so terrible that he could not know?

„Before I tell you, please promise me that you will wait, will hear me out. It is important that you listen to the end. Do you understand me, Francis?“

„Yes, I promise. Please!“ he nodded, his heartbeat rising in his chest in anticipation.

„They child has arrived and is healthy, a girl. But Mary, she … she is weak, she has lost consciousness and Nostradamus isn't sure if … if“ she pressed her hand to her mouth, silencing a sob.

His eyes grew wide, the panic taking his body hostage. Mary was unconscious, dying. He couldn't hold it back any longer, the hot tears escaping his eyes, crushing his heart.

„She has been weak for weeks now. Her heart, it is broken and it’s not fair to you but ever since you left, she has changed. She’s not the old Mary anymore, she’s so quiet and secluded now. I think I know how to save her, but I need you to listen to me, okay?“ she reached for his hand, lightly squeezing it.

He nodded, his head empty as he wiped away the tears that kept on flowing from his eyes. He didn't know what to feel or how to react, he only knew that he couldn't loose her, not now.

„She still loves you, Francis. I know, I shouldn't be telling you this, but she would want you to know. She still loves you so much and it has broken her.“ her eyes were big and she rubbed small soothing circles on the back of his hand.

„But, but why?“ was all he could manage.

He could feel his heart racing in his chest, hear his blood pumping in his ears, drowning out all other senses. These were the words he had longed to hear for months but now that it was out, he didn't feel any lighter, the weight in his stomach only growing heavier, threatening to crush him completely. She still loved him, it had been real. But why had she done it? In what world had he deserved the pain that love had brought him? He wanted to scream, she loved him but all he could feel was pain.

„I have already told you too much. Please just know that she still loves you.“ he glared at her.

What was so terrible that they all had to keep it from him. It frustrated him beyond words, he was so close to finding out but Kenna choose this to keep her mouth shut. He simply couldn't accept it.

„Please“ he hated himself for how frail and pitiful his voice sounded but he was beyond that point, his pride already lost long ago.

„I can’t Francis. I am so terribly sorry.“ she really did sound sincere, her voice shaking as her eyes met his „I can only tell you that she loved you enough to let you go.“

She couldn't possibly be serious, after all this time that was all she choose to tell him? This was madness, what could possibly have made Mary do this. He didn't understand, maybe she was just lying to him, playing a cruel game. He could not imagine anything terrible enough to justify what Mary had done, the only explanation left, was that it had all been a game. Just a charade to make him fall for her and she had in truth never felt anything for him. No, Mary would have never done that, he wouldn't believe it, he couldn’t. The only person he had ever loved so unconditionally would not have done hat to him, would she? He shook his head in frustration, the trees starting to spin before his eyes.

„Please understand. Francis, I know it sounds so foolish, but she couldn't loose you.“

„But don’t you see, she did, she lost me. We both lost it all, she took everything from me. And for what, because she loved me enough to let me go? I apologize, but this is just laughable.“ he spat the words out, a bitter laugh ringing in his voice.

Kenna flinched slightly at his sudden change of tone, but quickly collected herself.

„Please just … just listen. I know that it isn't fair to ask this of you, but she needs you. She needs to tell you herself and there is something more she is keeping from all of us. I am not sure what but you need to try, please.“ she looked at him pleadingly.

„But there is nothing I could possibly do, I am the last person she would…“ his voice failed him.

It was all so confusing, he didn't know what to think. Should he be happy to hear she still loved him or mad that they were still lying to him?

„Bash would never allow it, but she needs to see you, hear your voice. The hidden passage ways, I will let you into her rooms. You need to promise me, promise me that you’ll try.“ she leaned in and hugged him, pulling him close „We cannot let her die, Francis please.“

His limbs hang lifeless from his body as she embraced him before letting go again, moving away from him.

His mind was still in shock and he felt like a helpless marionette, as he stood up, his body seemingly acting independently from his mind. He didn't know what to do so he just held on to Kenna’s words, blindly following her instructions.

He found the way to the hidden door to her rooms with ease, having walked this way countless times before, using the hidden passages for nightly visits to her chambers.

There he stood before the small door, his heart threatening to explode in his chest as he softly brought his hand forward and knocked, once, twice.The thought of Mary, so close, maybe on her death bed on the other side of the door suddenly made him forget all his anger, the thought of her betrayal suddenly so far away. Only the desperation was left and he wanted nothing more than to feel her beating heart against his.

Silence, and then the door open a smidge wide, Kenna’s face appearing before him as she bade him to enter, her finger raised to her lips.

Chapter Text

16.

The sharp pain, it cut through her flesh like a hot knife, paralyzing her body. His hands, tightly wrapped around her middle were the only thing keeping her upright.

The baby, something was wrong, she knew it.Pain was to be expected but this felt different, something wasn't right. No, no, she could not loose the baby as well, it would kill her.

„Francis, the baby … it …“ she tried to tell him, but another wave of pain, washing over her shaking body, interrupted her and a high pitched cry excited her throat instead.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and she could feel him pulling her closer in response. She felt so save in his arms, so snug and secure. His familiar sent filled her nose. The distinct notes of warm cedar and clean orange soap calmed her mind and the steady beat of his heart partially dulled the pain in her limp body.

She could hear the maids approaching, bidding her to let go and lie down inside. She couldn’t, she couldn't let him go and do this without him. Her fingers only held onto him tighter. She was so close, she merely had to say the words and make him see. This was her chance to make it all right and finally tell him the truth.

But then she could feel his grip loosen around her middle and he gently prayed her shaking hands off his shirt. He stumbled back, silent tears flashing in his eyes as he kept them on her. It felt as if all the air had been pulled from her and if it hadn't been for her maids, she would have collapsed on the stone floor before him.

Her own heavy tears clouded her vision and all she could see was the outline of his face, two sad blue pools on a pale ground. She wanted to scream, but her lungs failed her, rebelling at the loss of oxygen. The pull in heart, it was so strong, but her frail body was unable to move, unable to put up a fight.

She had lost him, finally, totally and completely lost him. He would never know of his child, leave court, never return, and she would be all alone. The realization hit her like a hard slap across the face, leaving behind a burning sensation in her nerve endings. The pain of his loss drowned out her physical one, raging in her belly. The child, his child, tearing it’s way out of her.

She needed him, needed to hold his hand, see his face next to hers. Never until this moment had she realized how much of her strength had relied on the stupid dream of him returning after all. It was foolish but a part of her simply could’t let him go. She needed him, needed the piece of him in her heart that kept her from falling apart. She could not do this alone, if the child died, if she lost even this last part of him it would all be over.

She could feel the energy leaving her body as the maids placed her on her bed, draping towels over her body. She just laid there, unmoving, salty tears silently sliding down her cheeks as the waves of pain rolled through her. The pressure in her pelvic area grew and she could feel the baby pushing in her belly.

„Mary, the baby, it is coming?“ it was Kenna’s voice, she sounded so enthusiastic.

She could feel Kenna’s hand grasping hers and her fingers stroked her sweaty hair in an effort to comfort her.

„It is alright, the midwife is on her way and I will stay with you. I promise.“ her voice sounded comforting but the worry was evident in her words.

Mary nodded, in that moment so eternally thankful for the last friend she had still left.

As promised, a few minutes later, the midwife arrived and gave her a small dose of milk of the poppy, to take the pain and allow her body to rest. It worked, the pain vanished and she drifted into a dreamless state somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

She could still make out the voices of the midwife, the maids and Kenna as they prepared for the birth. The woman in charge remarked that the Queen’s current state was very weak and she would need to gain strength before the time came to push. Kenna argued with her and she could feel wet towels being pressed against her burning forehead, the cold water trickling down her face.

It was slow at first but the pains were returning, the pressure in her lower torso building again and she thought her belly might burst under the stress of it all. With each wave of pain, her breaths came out harder and faster. She was furrowing her brow in an effort to keep quite but the cries still slipped from her lips. Her fingers clawed into the sheets and Kenna’s hand, her whole body tense.

„Your Majesty, I am sorry. We can’t give you any more milk of the poppy, you need your strength to push.“ the midwifes voice sounded from before the bed.

She threw her head back, keeping her eyes shut and bit her lip, her body shuddering with pain.

The pressure in her lower belly grew even further and her breaths broke from her lungs in a ragged and rushed rhythm, as the pain dulled her senses.

„Your Majesty needs to push now, the baby is ready.“ it sounded like a command.

She focused all the energy still left in her tired body and pushed with all her might. The pain made her instantly see black and after a few moments she fell back on the bed, panting in exhaustion as the room started to spin around her.

„Mary … Mary, can you hear me?“ Kenna was squeezing her hand and when she opened her eyes, her friends face was floating above her’s with concern filled eyes.

„Kenna, I can’t do this … I …“ a sob escaped her.

„You need to push, now Mary. For the baby’s sake, please.“ Kenna was caressing her sweaty face and helped her sit up once more.

The next wave of pain came and she pushed, trying to ignore the desperate signals her body was sending her. She forced herself and pushed again, focusing ever muscle on the task at hand.

Before she could collapse on the bed once more, Kenna propped her up with more pillows, keeping her body upright. Someone dapped her face and all she could do was let her body sink back against the stack of pillows, her breathing labored.

„You can do this, okay? I will stay here with you and you and the baby will get through this, do you hear me?“ Kenna sounded so far away and she was starting to see double.

This time she could barely feel it, her body so numb, and it was only when the midwife called for her to push that she realized that another labour pain was upon her. She tried but after a few seconds her body gave out, her limbs falling to the sticky sheets and her head collapsed against her heaving chest.

She couldn't to this, it was impossible. There wasn't an ounce of strength left in her tired muscles and her mind just wanted to drift away. There was no way, she and the child would make it out of this alive and she was prepared to let it all go. It would be so much easier to just go to sleep, leave her recked body. The darkness seemed so sweet in that moment. There was nothing left for her here. Her friends were gone, Lola was dead, Aylee as well. Worst of all the child, it wouldn't survive and Francis, she had finally lost the one person that had made her world whole. Without him nothing made sense anymore, she didn't want to live in a world were he was not by her side. Fate must be a cruel thing. The one person she desired most, loved more than anyone else, was the one thing she could never have, no matter how hard she tried. Their love had been destined to fail from the start. It wasn't fair, why could others have their happy endings? Why must her’s always end in pain and misery? She could not live without Francis, and a life in union would mean his death. She cursed Nostradamus, cursed his visions that had brought her whole life crumbling down in front of her. She could see no way out of this, no way to end her misery.

She had caused him so much pain, it had been so blatantly obvious in his eyes as he had stared at her. The hurt and desperation had taken all the vibrant beauty out of the blue, leaving his eyes pale and flat. But he had let her go, his arms had left her body and in that moment she had lost it all. She had seen him with that blond girl at the carriage, the ways the lady had touched him, so intimate. Had he just come to bid her goodbye, having already found solace in the arms of another? It was all her fault, she had taken it all from them, from him. She had condemned him to this life and now he had finally given in, left her.

Her heart was so weak, so frail. He had taken it all with him and had left her rotting. She could not blame him for letting go, for finally doing the one thing she had pushed him towards for months. She was dead without him and his baby trapped in her belly. The sorrow filled her, she would kill this last part of him as well, their innocent child in her belly. All just because it’s mother wasn't strong enough.

The tears must have rolled onto her hot cheeks again, as she could feel Kenna wiping them away.

„Mary, listen to me. I know it hurts but you need to stay strong.“

She didn't move, not an inch. None of them knew, none of them could understand. It didn't hurt, she wasn't afraid of the pain, on the contrary she would prefer anything over the numbness that had settled in her body. She felt nothing and she had nothing to give, her body was not obeying her mind’s weak commands.

„Your baby, Mary it will die if you don't push!“ Kenna's voice was growing louder in desperation, and she could feel her shaking her shoulder.

„I … I can’t. I can’t. Kenna … he … he’s gone.“ it was barely a whisper but her friend was close enough to hear.

„Who …?“ Kenna’s eyes were wide with concern and her brow furrowed in confusion.

But she could she the realization dawning in her friends face, her mouth forming a small o.

„Francis“ she squeezed Mary’s hand again „But Mary he’s still here, he’s still in the castle.“

He was still her, he hadn’t left, but why? She didn't understand. Was it true or just a lie to comfort her? Why would he stay, linger a moment longer? The King’s funeral had already ended an hour ago, when she had still had the anergy to cry out in pain.

Something changed, something shifted in her heart and she could feel it all return. Her exhausted body, the pain in her abdomen, she could feel it all, the child trying to flee her belly.

„Mary push, now!“ this time she obeyed Kenna’s words.

She hadn’t thought it possible but her tired muscles had regained some strength and she pushed as hard as she possibly could. Maybe there still was a chance, maybe they would both survive, the child would scream in her arms as it took in it’s first breath of air. She had to try, she owed him that. He was still here, he hadn't given up on her yet and she wouldn't either. She would muster up every last piece of strength in her body and she would save their child.

„Push, your Majesty. Just one more push, I can already see the head.“ the midwife’s words rang in her ears.

She propped herself up on the bed one more time, her features contorting with strain, the vein on her forehead popping through her reddened skin.

And then she could feel it, the sudden relief flooding her body, the pressure disappearing from her pelvic area. She could sense the midwife pulling the baby from her tired body, an utterly strange sensation.

There was silence, nobody uttered a word, the whole room holding it’s breath and waiting, everyone straining their ears.

The cry filled the room and she could hear people let out screams of relief and Kenna gave her an awkward hug, her sitting position complicating the embrace.

„It’s a girl, a healthy baby girl.“ the midwife exclaimed as she padded the squealing baby dry.

Mary was flooded with a feeling of relief and thankfulness, her baby’s cry the sweetest thing to ever reach her ears. She extended her arms, eager to hold her daughter in her own arms, to feel her tiny beating heart against her chest.

„Can I hold her?“ there were tears in her eyes again, but this time not of sorrow but endless joy.

Kenna took the wrapped bundle from the midwife and carried her to Mary’s side.

„She is beautiful.“ Kenna smiled as she handed her her daughter.

She felt so light in her arms, so fragile. A warmth filled her as she looked at the tiny face, taking in every feature.

A tuft of brown hair covered the top of her small head, her eyes were closed and she was stretching her tiny fingers out towards Mary. She was indeed gorgeous, the most beautiful thing Mary had ever seen. She was so warm against her chest and she could feel her daughter’s heart strong against her skin as the baby wrapped it’s hand around her finger.

„Do you already know the name, your Majesty?“ the midwife wiped her blood covered hands on her apron.

„Anne, she will be called Anne.“ a wide smile took over her face.

Suddenly the baby stirred in her arms, reacting to it’s mothers voice. The tiny head turned towards it’s her face, instinctively following her voice.

When she opened her eyes, she could feel it like a stab in her chest.

They were his eyes staring back at her, his warm and loving blue eyes, smiling at her. All the air rushed from her lungs and she could feel her head starting to spin again.

She had dreamed of this moment, dreamed of meeting her baby, of staring into his eyes again. But the actual pain of seeing it overtook her. No, no, she could not do this. It was too painful, the way Anne smiled at her and opened her small mouth. Now that her daughter’s eyes were open she saw it, saw how much her daughter’s face resembled her father’s. The way her tiny cheekbones curved, her small lips and the furrow in her blond brows. It was all too familiar, too painful. Their child, if it wasn't for the dark hair covering her head, a mini version of her father. How could she keep this secret, keep it to herself. Didn't she owe it to the baby, owe it to her daughter to allow her to meet her real father. She could not keep this from her, could not lie to the innocent life in her arms.

This would kill her, eat her up alive. She would never be able to look at her husband or Francis again, they would catch her lies, eventually find out the truth. They would have grounds to execute her, kill her baby.

Panic set in and the darkness circled in on her again. Anne let out another scream and she could feel her hands growing limp, no longer strong enough to hold onto her daughter. Someone took the baby off her chest and everything fell away, all the happiness, all the pain were wiped from her numb heart.

-

She was shifting in and out of consciousness for hours. Every part of her body felt so heavy, as if her bones were suddenly made out of stone, pressing her into the bed. She couldn't move at all, not even her eyelids would respond, covering her vision with darkness. Only her ears were still functioning, different sounds reaching her mind. Anne’s crying had quickly subsided as they had taken the baby out of the room, only the whispers of the maids remaining. She couldn't make out exactly what they were saying but they sounded worried and in some moments she could her silent sobs, close to her ear. Kenna was probably still holding her hand. At some point Bash had also been in the room but hadn't talked much, merely whispering some words in her ear, which her tired brain hadn't been able to deceiver.

She hoped that he was spending the time taking care of Anne, for all he knew she was his child after all. She wasn't the male heir France had hoped for but she knew Bash well enough to be sure that he would love her regardless. But still, the thought that it wasn't Francis’ arms that were holding their child, not his lips placing sweet kissed on the baby’s forehead, pained her. Yes, he had stayed, hadn't left court yet, but who knew for how long. He might leave later today, tomorrow and all the hope Kenna’s words had given her would be nothing more than wishful thoughts.

She would see them, his eyes, or Anne’s, she wasn't quite sure, floating in the darkness before her. They were staring at her and she was frozen in place, unable to escape them. At first the blue orbs were smiling, the blue vibrant with happiness and love but they were slowly changing now. The warm water was growing colder, turning into bitter ice. Tears and pain clouded the vibrant colour and she wanted nothing more than to look away, but her mind, like her body, seemed paralyzed.

How much time had passed since the darkness had cloaked her body, she wasn't sure. Was this what death felt like, just an endless painful limbo. The priests had always spoken of a heavenly embrace, warmness and all encompassing love. That was to be the reward for good choices on earth, but maybe she wasn't deserving. Was this hell, had she really been such a bad person? Maybe she deserved it, after all she had caused the people around her so much misery and pain. She had destroyed her love and other people in the process, friends had died because of her and she had lied to her husband, had given birth to another man’s child. Yes, she definitely didn't deserve to live amongst the angels in heaven.

The blue eyes floating before her, once more, changed. The tears slowly dried away and an indifferent and disappointed look took the place of the painful one. In some ways this was even worse, at least hurt and anger still attested to a present emotion, but the indifference, staring at her, stung. Was this the sign that she had finally lost him, their child as well?

She could feel the tightness taking hold of her chest, her heart revolting beneath her ribs. It hurt so much that for a moment she didn't even take notice. She could feel again, even if the current sensation was far from pleasant. The pain, in her chest, it was so intense, there was no way it was only an illusion of her mind. It spread like fire, slowly the flames lit up her whole body and the blackness before her eyes turned red. When before she had felt so cold, her skin was now burning hot.

Suddenly she could feel everything, ever little wisp of air brushing over her skin, the heat of the fire, meters away. The sensations flooded her mind. Only her right hand still felt weirdly numb, her fingers bent at awkward angles. Her chest felt so heavy, as if a massive stone was pressing the air out of her lungs and her heart vehemently rebelled.

The lack of oxygen was making her head dizzy and when she though she was about to drown, her body finally woke up, allowing her lungs to greedily suck in air. The sudden rush of oxygen jolted through her body, and everything seemed so much closer somehow. The sensations were crushing her. Her breaths were still ragged and the weight on her chest was confining her lungs.

There was a sound close to her ear and something moved over her face, tinging her skin.

She panicked as the hairs on her arms rose in fear. Something was on her, crushing her torso and moving closer to her face. Her heart was racing in her chest and her mind was reeling. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t react. She was trapped and there was something on top of her.

As the realization set in her breathing grew out of control, and the horror was making her respiration rushed. She felt like she was suffocating, the air not reaching her lungs. She tried to scream, but her mouth barely opened at all.

„Mary“ there it was again, the sound now even closer then before.

„Can you hear me, Mary? Shhh it’s ok.“ at first her mind couldn't make any sense of the sounds reaching her ears.

She had to calm down, her heart threatening to explode in her chest but her mind was growing numb again due to the lack of oxygen in her blood. Still she couldn't move and the pressure on her chest grew bigger. She could feel the thing moving on top of her again. This time it brushed her face, her hair and strange sounds filled her ears.

„Mary, please wake up.“ It reminded her of a scared animal, the noises more muffled now. She could hear someone sucking in air next to her, sobbing.

„Don’t be dead. Please, don't be dead. I cant loose you.“ the sobbing was growing more intense and she wasn't sure what to think.

Her mind was still so slow, the words barely registered as such in her mind, their meaning completely lost. But there was another person at her side, she was sure of that.

„I love you. Please Mary.“ there was a sloppy movement at her face, and she could feel something clinging onto her cheek, covering the side of her face

‚Love you‘, the words stirred something inside her, she wasn't sure why but she knew that she had to try. She mustered all the strength she could find in her weak body and with great struggle she managed to lift her lids just a smidge.

It was all blurred, the light was too bright and the colours all mixed before her eyes. There it was again, the movement, someone was on top of her, just before her head, coming closer.

Her eyes focused and the blurred lines became sharper, the image growing clearer before her eyes and the fear took over.

This was just another game, her mind was playing. She was still in her delirium, this was just another layer of the nothingness that had engulfed her. No, she wanted to scream. She had been so sure, so certain that the pain and all the sensations had been real but it was the same picture, she had been staring at for hours, before her eyes again.

„Mary“ the blue eyes were so close.

Please leave me your thoughts in the comments! :)

Chapter Text

17.

„Mary“ the blue eyes were so close.

This time they were crying and the heavy tears were dripping on her face.

„Mary“ the voice grew louder and his pupils dilated as she peaked at them from behind her lashes.

She could feel his hands cupping her cheeks again, his thumbs stroking across her pale skin.

It felt so real, truly and utterly real. The way his touches elicited small bursts of electricity from her nerve endings and his tears now clung to her skin as well. But it had to be another hallucination of her exhausted mind or maybe she had finally passed over and left live behind.

She could feel the trail of fire his touches left on her skin and how his familiar smell engulfed her nose, clouding her already weary head. This couldn’t possibly be real, it made no sense. Why would he be her, in her rooms in the dark of night?

No, this had to be another of her desperate dreams, an imagined reality. Her heart dropped at the thought of it, sending cool shivers down her spine. God was playing a cruel game with her, an endless loop of pain and misery.

The desperation caused her own tears to spilled over and trace down her already wet cheeks.

„Mary, can you hear me?“ he hurriedly grabbed for her lump hand, tightly squeezing it in his.

His other hand gently brushed away her tears and his eyes were filled with fear. The blue was deepened by his own wet eyes and she could see a trace of panic flash in his face.

She couldn’t react, do noting but stare at his face. Was this real, was he real?

„Mary. Mary, can you squeeze my hand?“ he was begging her.

She could feel his finger, tightly wrapped around her’s. But every single part of her body felt so incredibly heavy, her muscles not strong enough. If this was only her mind’s imagination she was entirely powerless.

„Please, Mary I love you. Come back to me.“ he barely got the words out and the salty tears were dripping from his face again.

‚I love you‘ the words triggered something in her brain. It all seemed to explode before her eyes at once. His blue eyes, Anne’s and she could hear her daughter’s scream. Her baby, his child, the one person she had vowed to protect.

At the thought of her daughter’s angelic face and her sweet smile, her hand instinctively latched onto his, and her finger ever so slightly tugged against his grip.

She could feel his whole body instantly tense up in response and his eyes grew even wider. His lips parted and now it was him, who was staring at her motionless. She could feel a comforting warmth trickle through her body in response to his look. They way his eyes suddenly lit up, all the hope and love flashing in the blue. Her body rebelled, but she couldn’t help it and her lips slowly curled up into a weak smile.

„Francis“ it was more a stertorous breath than an actual word, but he understood.

„You … you are alive. I .. I thought …I had lost you …“ the tears strangled any further words.

All the tension fell away from his body, as if she had finally freed him from his burdens. His golden locks were falling from his head unkempt and messy. The skin around his watery eyes was still blotchy from the tears.. But none of that mattered. All she could see was the smile that filled his face and the blue eyes glowing with joy. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed, and she could feel her heart mending at last, as it beat in union with his.

„You came back.“ she barely managed to get the words out.

It was truly him, merely inches away from her face. He had returned, he hadn't left her yet. She felt the relief welling in her chest, her heart picking up it’s pace. He was so close and it strained her eyes to focus on his face, as he buried it in her hair for one moment. His breath tickled her skin and his so familiar hands traced along the line of her cheek bone, caressing her pale skin. His thumb brushed across her cheek and he rested his forehead against hers, breathing her in and she savored the feeling of knowing him so close.

„I thought that I would never see you again, that … that …“ the sobs came quick out of his mouth now.

He pulled her closer, hugging her weak body and she clung onto him as if it meant her life. He nestled his face in the crook of her neck as his hands desperately tried to bring her body even closer to his. His heart was so strong in his chest and it’s beat vibrated through her.

„Francis“ he was holding her so tightly, she feared he would crack her ribs.

He partly loosened his grip, giving her lungs room to breath as she sucked in air. Her body gained more strength by the minute, her fingers now grasping the soft fabric of his jacket.

It felt so right, all the pieces she had feared she had lost were suddenly put back together again. The hole in her heart gone, mended for a moment and she felt truly alive, for the first time in months.

The way his hair still smelled the same, of oranges and fresh soap, his body so inexplicably familiar as her fingers touched his skin. He had changed so much, but at heart he was still the same man who had kissed her in the gardens, who had vowed to spend his life by her side, still her Francis. The man she loved, still

All those happy memories, they filled her head with sweetness and now the tears started to fall from her eyes again.

„I am so sorry.“ she truly meant it.

„I know.“ he brushed her tears away once more with his thumb.

The way he touched her, how his fingers curved around her body, so intimately familiar with every path of her body. It electrified her skin and the love in his eyes filled her whole body.

„I … I ruined …“ the sob broke from her trembling lips as her brown eyes pleaded with his sky coloured ones.

„Shh shh shhh“ he put his finger against her lips, silencing her.

„You are alive, that is all that matters.“ his voice was so warm, so kind.

He was alive as well, that was all that had mattered to her. The reason she had sacrificed so much, to feel his beating heart next to hers.

A part of her lived in him, through him and she wouldn’t last if he were gone. Maybe it was pure selfishness but she couldn’t let his death be the price for her happiness. Some things simply weren't meant to be and maybe even this moment of closeness was tempting fate.

She shuddered, the guilt of what she had done taking over her body. Her betrayal of his love, she had caused him so much suffering, them both so much pain. Her own actions terrified her. Her breathing grew more labored, the sobs wracking her body. The tears were so heavy in her eyes, blinding her and all her forgotten burdens were slowly returning.

„Mary, I need to know.“ he brought his face before her eyes, close enough for his breaths to melt with hers.

„What you told me all those months ago, here in this room, did you mean it?“ she could glimpse the glimmer of pain returning to his beautiful loving eyes.

She knew what he was asking of her and he deserved to know. She wanted nothing more but to tell him, finally confess that it had all been a lie, that her love hadn't wavered for a single moment. She needed him to know that her heart still belonged to him, and that he had taken all her happiness with him when he had left her months ago. But something was stopping her, her mouth falling slightly open as she gaped at him.

He intently kept his eyes on hers, patiently waiting for her to speak. She swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the fear in her bones. This was harder than she had ever imagined it to be, he was right there, just inches from her face and still her mouth seemed unable to form the words.

„Please, Mary! Kenna told me, but I need to hear you say it. I need to know why.“ the tears had returned to his eyes.

She felt it like a sharp dagger in her chest, he knew. What had Kenna done, what had she told him? No, this couldn’t be true, her friend wouldn’t have. The panic was taking over control and she could feel herself freeze in his grasp as the sickening feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Kenna’s betray surprised her, she had never expected this from her. Her loyal lady being the one to tell Francis. It stung.

All the reasons for her actions blurred her mind. He would die, she loved him and it would kill him. The images of his dead cold body clouded her vision and the pain of his loss pestered her heart. What she had done to him, however terrible, it would keep him alive.

Was it already to late, had the damage already been done? She needed to know exactly how much her friend had let slip.

„What did Kenna say?“ her voice was small and heavily laced with guilt.

She could see the the disappointment flash in his eyes for a brief moment, but he pulled it together.

„Only that you loved me enough to let me go.“ his face was contoured with the strain to keep his boiling emotions contained. „You need to tell me Mary, why you lied for all these months.“

Her eyes fell to her shaking hands, unable to endure the pain in his face for a moment longer. This was impossible. She loved him but she needed to remember, no matter what she would tell him now, it wouldn't help any of them. Keeping up the lie, the false pretense, even with Kenna’s betrayal, might keep him at a save distance. He would be crushed by the disappointment but he wouldn't be able to use her own heart against her.

If she told him, if she finally confess what her heart had been screaming for months, he wouldn't relent. He wouldn't let her go, his heart wouldn't allow him to and things would turn ugly. It would put her, her rule and most importantly her daughter in danger. The one line she was not willing to cross was her child’s safety, not even for him.

She could not allow anything to happen to Anne. She had already played this game for long enough, so she might as well keep up the charade now.

Slowly she shook her head, her eyes still unable to meet his.

„I love you, Mary. I don’t care how terrible the reason is. I don’t care that your child is my brother’s. Just please don't do this to me.“ he shook her shoulder, trying to force the three words from her lips.

The sobs were growing more violent and she could feel the darkness creeping up on her again.

„Please“ his hand guided her chin upwards, forcing her to finally meet his gaze.

„I am so sorry Francis.“ the tears strained her voice „I can’t.“

His eyes were so desperate, and it felt as if she was breaking his heart and her own all over again. She could see something crumbling inside him, all the joy that had been in his eyes just moments before, now gone without a trace. In the end the pain was all that they had left.

„No, no, I don't believe you.“ she could feel the anger in his tightened muscles, in the way his neck tensed up and how his eyes glared at her.

„No, I should have never let you go. I should have never allowed you to marry my brother. I already lost you once.“ his determination was rising with ever word, his chest heaving with his labored breaths.

He grew bigger before her eyes, his shoulders growing stronger and his back straightened all the way. This was the Francis that defied his father, that had fought for her, for her country. The Francis she had fallen in love with, so strong and proud. He had needed no crowns or scepters, no declarations from the Vatican or his fathers blessing and still had been the strongest and truest person she had ever known. This Francis, rising before her eyes, would fight for the people he loved. He wouldn’t give in and if it meant fighting till the bitter end or his own death.

It only worsened the guilt in her bones, it was so cruel. He would never understand. The prophecy, his life was not important to him but she could not allow him to throw it away so easily. She cared, she cared for his beating heart and the sparkle of life in his eyes. His death would not be on her, her heart couldn't bare loosing him again but it wouldn't survive his death.

His breaths quickened and the air was hot with anger and desperation. He swiftly closed the space between them and she could feel her own heart restlessly thumping in her chest. His hand reached for her cheek and she meant to turn from his touch but he was faster. He didn't even leave her a chance to react as he pressed his lips against hers, hot and heavy. The sudden sensation flooded her whole body and drowned her mind, instantly rendering her senses useless. For a moment she couldn’t react at all, her lips defenseless, as he pressed against them, the pressure building.

The determination was evident in his bold movements and the strength he was radiating. She was drowning in him and there was nothing she could to to prevail his advances as the sudden ecstasy flooded her bloodstream. His tongue was daring her lips and she obliged, her body finding itself with an unquenched thirst only he could still. Her lips parted for him but to her surprise he pulled away.

Her lids flew open in shock and the sudden loss of him left her gasping for air. There was a wickedness in his eyes as he glared at her, the blue sparkling dangerously. His face was still so close as he gently rested his forehead against hers for a moment, before he drew back completely.

He knew, just as well as she did, all the things she didn't allow herself to tell him out loud. He had felt it, felt the way her body still ached for his, how his face was all she could see in her bed at night and how his name was her last thought before sleep overtook her. It only fueled his resolve, setting his eyes ablaze. She could see the hope, she herself had thought to have lost, evident in face.

„I will not let you do this, we have already lost too much.“ he brushed his thumb across her still parted lips one last time, and he was gone.

Chapter Text

18.

The slight breeze from the lake made some loose strands of her chestnut brown hair dance around her face. The water was calm before her and the waves flat as a mirror, reflecting the sun’s golden rays. A thin layer of fabric, her favorite shawl, deep blue with delicate golden embellishments, was draped across her shoulders and secured into a knot before her chest.

It wasn't a hot day but an unfamiliar warmth filled her body, keeping the bumps from her skin as she faced the cool air. She had always loved the outdoors, the peace and quiet only interrupted by the moving water and the birds singing in the trees.

Her chest rose and fell with every breath, the rhythm slow but steady, and her mind was at ease.

„Maman“ the sudden noise startled her and she was unsure if she hadn't simply imagined it in her head.

As she looked around, the gardens were still empty, not a person in sight. She was alone. Breathing out she tried to ease her worries.

„Maman“ there it was again, louder and more distinct this time.

Her eyes frenetically searched the grass an she turned her head, clutching the shawl tighter around her shoulders.

She thought she had seen one of the bushes move, but it must have been just a bird or the cool wind. There was still no-one besides her on the south lawn.

Her heart beat quickened and the feeling of calmness, that had occupied her mind just minutes before, was gone as she hectically tried to think of an explanation for the strange voice.

„Maman“ this time the voice was closer and she could feel something pulling at her skirts.

She flinched and it took all of her self-control not to cry out in horror. There was something, someone, right next to her, touching her. Her mind was reeling, trying to block out the panic, she could feel creeping up her spine. Goosebumps covered the exposed patches of her skin and she shivered involuntarily, the air still warm around her. She turned in both directions ruffling her skirts as she frantically sought to find the origin of the noise but there was nothing there.

She could feel the panic slowly starting to take control as her breaths grew more hitched and her heart was racing beneath her ribs, causing her pulse to radiate through her fingers. And the rhythmic sound of her pumping blood clogged her ears, drowning out any other sound.

She wanted to call out but her voice failed her, not a single sound escaping her trembling lips.

„Maman, look.“ she was now certain, it was a voice calling to her, not simply the wind.

Something tugged at her skirts again and this time she could see who had uttered the words.

Her hair was dark, just like her own, and her sweet face was beaming at her, as the little girl stretched out a skinny arm towards her.

„Look, maman.“ her little fist opened and she poured something cool and heavy into Mary’s hand.

The stones were smooth, their surfaces polished by the water and they sparkled in the warm sunlight.

When a moment ago, she had still been scared, her mind had suddenly calmed down. She had never seen the girl before and she wasn't sure why, but the voice and face of the child before her seemed so intently familiar.

„Anne“ she whispered, her eyes widening in utter disbelieve.

„Yes, maman?“ the girl sheepishly bit her full bottom lip as her eyes stared back at her questioningly.

The rocks, she had seen them before, she was certain. She remembered and it hit her hard, she had been her before in the same position with the stones pressing softly against her palm.

It must have been some time ago, but she remembered. She had found them next to the water and they had seemed so beautiful and polished, a perfect gift she had thought. A present for someone, a person she had barely known back then. But even in those first days the pull had always been undeniable.

„Where did you get those?“ the fear trickled into her heart as she waited for an answer and she wasn't sure why.

„By the lake“ a proud face beamed at her as Anne pointed her thin arms towards the water „they are for papa.“

For some inexplicable reason she hadn't seen it before although it must have been obvious since the start. It was as if only know that she had spoken the words, that her eyes took on a familiar blue tone. Somehow it changed her childlike features, the blue fitting perfectly, like the last piece of a puzzle and it finally clicked. Her face looked so familiar, as if she had looked at it a thousand times before. But something wasn’t quite right, and it scared her. The way her cheek bones curved through her rosy skin and how she furrowed her dark full brows at her mother, she had seen it all before, countless times. Her heart grew heavy as the realization settled into her mind.

She looked so much like him and it scared her. The thick brown curls were her’s of course but other than that Anne looked just like her father. It all blurred for a moment and it was him smiling at her, his blue eyes sparkling and the sound his laugh made clawed at her heart. But the blue eyes weren't his but his daughter’s.

This was all she had ever wanted, a child with him, a happy life. But was she happy, in that moment? She couldn't tell, there was an unknown weight straining her heart, reminding her of things she had wished to forget.

„You promised, we would visit papa today.“ she could see a determination flicker in those blue eyes, she only knew too well.

„Visit papa?“ she wasn't sure what the child was asking.

Did she know her real father, did she think it was Bash, and where did she want to go? She felt so lost and confused, this didn't make any sense.

„You said we would, maman! We haven't visited him in so long, he surely misses us.“ tears of anger and frustration were creeping into the blue eyes as the little girl stomped her foot, sending her brown curled flying.

Mary just stared at her, unable to react to her daughters demands. She could feel her heart growing heavier with every beat and she wasn't quite sure where the worry, clouding her mind, had come from.

His face suddenly swam before her eyes. His blue eyes were heavy and her instincts told her that something was off. Why wasn't he here? Why was she alone with their daughter? He should be by her side, he should be the one playing with Anne, while she watched. He should be here.

The air had grown colder around them as the winds had turned and the water wasn't calm any longer, angry waves splashing against the bank. It had grown darker around them, the sky full of heavy black clouds and the birds’ songs had halted. It was an eery atmosphere that had so suddenly settled over them and she felt the shivers creeping up her spine.

„Come, Maman.“ her daughters small fingers curled around her palm as she started to pull her mother after her.

Hesitantly, Mary obliged and her feet started to move, her dress gliding across the dark grass as she followed the girl tugging her along.

The couldn't have moved more than five steps when Anne halted again but the familiar gardens were gone. They were still close to the lake, but the trees were more numerous now and the grass beneath their feet wilder than before.

Again, the uneasy feeling settled in her bones, she had been here before. The way the branches of the trees curved and how the castle was still visible through the gaps in the leafs on the opposite shore left no doubt.

He had taken her here, many months or maybe years ago. It was hard to tell, the whole concept of time nonexistent. She had stood right here in this very spot, her arms protectively crossed before her chest, as she had impatiently awaited his arrival. But the colours had been brighter back then and the grass under her feet had been soft and pillowy. All their problems, the troops for Scotland and her engagement to the Portuguese prince hadn't mattered in this place. Here under the protective leafs of the trees, save from any prying eyes, it had been just them. This had been the place, where all the lies had fallen away and they could have been true with one another. Their actions hadn't been dictated by court etiquette and the way his eyes had glowed whenever the had fallen on her smiling face, had not been subject to his mothers scrutiny.

They had been just a girl and just a boy, Mary and Francis. There had been no titles or crowns, no obligation and strings tying them to their families and thrones. The weight of carrying the fate of their respective countries on their young shoulders, had been lifted for just a few hours. Here they could finally breath without hiding their true emotions from the other.

The small crack of a twig to her right, had announced his arrival. Her eyes had lit up with joy upon seeing his figure approaching. This had been the one thing she could have always relied on, no matter how dire things had gotten. How he had filled her heart with an indescribable warmth and how the love had radiated through every cell in her body. It had been magnetic, the pull she felt towards him always so strong, even now tugging at her heart.

It was still there now, she wanted him here by her side. Her eyes searched the encompassing trees for the familiar figure, the light golden locks and his usual smirk.

She had carefully arranged the blanket on the already fallen leaves to protect their clothes from the underlaying dirt. Taking his hand in her’s, they had sat down, the concern still present in his eyes. In an effort to take his worries away she had teased him, eliciting a smile from his face.

‚You know they say Bash got all the good looks and passion, and all you have is tedious …‘ he hadn't let her finish back than and she hadn't wanted to.

This had been all her body had ached for, to feel him so close. To her his touch held an inexplicable magic, whenever she felt it, her whole body would light up and her head would turn dizzy. The lust pumping through her veins, in that moment she couldn’t have even consider feeling shameful for it. She had been so lost in him, and he in her.

The happiness they had enjoyed then was still there, a memory in her heart. But the world she stood in now seemed colder, cruel to her eyes and she shivered. It was impossible to put her finger on it but in her gut she knew something terrible must have happened.

„Can I give them to him?“ Anne’s voice shook her from her thoughts.

Her small hand curled around the stones again, taking them from her mother.

But she didn't understand, there was no one here. Where was Francis, where was Anne’s father? The bad feeling in her gut intensified and she could feel her head starting to spin. Why were they here, in this exact place? How had her daughter even found it?

„I love you, papa.“ Anne whispered, carefully kneeling down on the cold ground.

She took care not to wrinkle or stain her skirts to much, before opening her hand again. It was only when she carefully placed the stones onto the cool earth that Mary noticed the headstone, Anne was kneeling before.

Her heart plummeted, as the feeling ripped through her mercilessly, taking all the air from her lungs. She couldn't breath, her chest suddenly tightening and the pain clouded her mind.

No, no he wasn't gone, he couldn’t be. This could not be true, he had to still be alive. She wouldn't survive if his heart was no longer beating. No, this was all wrong, this was supposed to be a happy place, a happy memory.

„I miss you papa, maman misses you too.“ Anne pressed her small hand to her lips and then touched the cool stone. „We love you.“

Her hand covered just the spot, where the word ‚Francis‘ was engraved in the smooth surface of the stone, symbolizing a kiss to her late father.

It was to much, she felt herself sinking to the ground the tears desperately pouring from her eyes. This was not true, he couldn't be dead, he couldn't be true. The sobs came more frequent and she just wished for it all to go away.

It was her fault, he was dead and she had killed him, she could feel it. The guilt was weighing so heavy in her heart, she had taken him from this earth, from his daughter. It was all her doing.

Somehow her lungs were rebelling with every breath, refusing the desperately needed oxygen and she could feel a dangerous tingling sensation filling her limbs. It didn’t hurt, in fact she was unable to feel anything in that moment. A terrifying numbness had settled in her body and mind, slowly pulling her towards the darkness.

„No, no, no!“ the words were barely audible, but she could see her daughter turn towards her in response.

Anne’s wide blue eyes swam before her, and they only mad it worse. The guilt was swallowing her whole, leaving nothing behind.

„Maman, stop!“ the girl pulled at her skirts again, yanking at the soft material.

But Mary couldn't stop, she had ruined it all and he was gone. The girl tugged at the light fabric again, this time with more force and her tiny brows furrowed in concern when her mother wouldn’t stop crying.

„Maman“ the words turned into a desperate scream.

„Maman“ the noise was drowning her from all sides.

„Maman“ the cries persisted and Anne was fading away into the all consuming darkness around them.

„Maman“ the words were all scrambled now, their meaning lost.

„Maman“ she was gone, and Mary was alone once more.

The screams echoed around her and she couldn't make them stop. The were calling for her and she was unable to move, ever part of her body as heavy as led. It was maddening.

Everything else slowly faded away, the green from the trees, the blue water, all gone. Only the black clouds still remained, angry and rumbling before her.

The cries grew even louder, more intense and she could feel her body rebelling.

„Mary, wake up!“ someone was tugging at her shoulder again, but the screaming still prevailed.

As the sensation wouldn't relent, her eyes flew open and Kenna’s worried face suddenly filled her field of vision.

„I am sorry, but she just wouldn't stop crying. I think she needs her mother.“ a sudden weight pressed onto her chest and when she looked down, there they were again, the same eyes from her dream.

Chapter Text

It was pure cowardliness, she knew that, but she just couldn't bring herself to stay.

The chambers she had spent the greater part of the past months in, seemed to be closing in and slowly suffocating her. He had changed so much, they both had. It wasn't fair to put the blame on him but she simply couldn't stand it any longer.

And he must have felt it too, the way she would barely offer him any words or how she always sought to escape his presence. She would keep the baby from him as well, she wasn't even sure why, but the instincts in her gut were undeniable.

For months she had known, been painfully aware that she didn't love him, never truly had and never would. When she had woken from her state of unconsciousness, already on the brink of death, it hadn't been his voice that had brought her back, not his eyes that had greeted hers. He cared for her so much, he loved her more than she could ever love him and the pain that flashed in his eyes whenever she turned a cold shoulder ate away at her. He was the person she had vowed to spend her life with, whom’s promise she wore on her finger each day and it wasn't right. He was her husband, but now that was nothing more than a meaningless title. Their relationship had never been true from the beginning. She had wanted it to work, she truly had. All her efforts had been of nought, her heart couldn’t bare loving another person, letting anyone else in, and so it had all crumbled. Her choices had turned all three of their lives into misery and pain, none of them could escape.

Maybe she had given up too easily, maybe she should have tried harder, maybe it was her selfishness that kept her from loving him. But she couldn't change that now, she couldn't change her past actions, couldn't change the fact that her daughter wasn't his and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

She cared for him and he was important to her, and not only because she needed the French support for her people in Scotland or because he was the man wearing the crown. No he was part of her life, and he would alway play an essential role. He had been her brother when they were all small, chasing after one another in the gardens. He had been the person to do silly things with and secretly drink wine in the stables till her cheeks would be bright red. He was the one she would complain about his brother to, an he had always listened so patiently.

It was all so cruel and unfair, he didn't deserve this, her. He loved her and she had used his love to save his brother, all the while never returning his feelings. Maybe he was the better man, the better choice but nothing could change the fact that he wasn't the man who held her heart. Her love was and had always been meant for another. His touch didn't electrify her skin, his voice didn't make her stomach flutter in anticipation and she hated herself for it.

Partly she was disgusted by herself. She had forsaken her marriage vows, her duties as his wife. But she couldn't bare it for another minute, couldn't stand his guilt infusing presence for another moment. She had to get out, move from his grasp and allow herself to breathe again.

Her daughter needed a father, but she couldn't bare the thought of trusting him with her. Of course he would never hurt the baby, not even if he knew that she wasn't his, he was too good a man. But she couldn't live with the guilt of lying to him any longer, it wasn't right.

For the past months she had hoped that once the baby arrived, things would change for the better. Maybe she had even hoped to discover her love for him in some ways, the child bringing them closer again. She had imagined him smiling at her daughter, playing with her on the south lawn, forcing sweet giggles from her tiny lips. She had dreamed of their happy little family and how they would rule Scotland and France side by side. Now those thoughts just seemed foolish, silly dreams, so far from their reality.

The throne demanded his full attention and he had been more King than husband with every passing day, barely ever setting the heavy crown aside. He had seemed so content and happy when she had allowed him to hold Anne for the first time. The way his eyes had sparkled with joy and he had kissed her forehead. She had nearly forgotten in that moment, how wrong it all was. But the guilt was never far away and so she had averted her eyes, swallowing down a thick lump in her throat. That had been the last time she had properly spoken with him, exchanged words with actual meaning and sincerity behind them.

She hadn't seen that happy sparkle in his green eyes since, only the ever growing stress and pain in his hardening features. And she knew, she was fully aware that she was partly to blame for the strained look in his face. Whenever their paths did cross for a short second, he would only stare at her with pleading eyes, and her heart would recoil, trying to block the pain by turning away.

Her old chamber had been dusted and cleaned by the maids but she hadn't cared for any untidiness, wanting to leave the royal chambers as soon as possible. Her old study had been turned into an improvised nursery for Anne and her bed had been moved closer to the fire to keep her warm at night. The maids were still hard at work around her, making the rooms fit for the French Queen, as she just stood their, Anne safely in her arms. The baby was soundly asleep, her forehead smooth and her breathing a slow but steady rhythm against her mother’s chest.

She let her hand glide over the back rest of her heavy chair, letting herself sink into it’s embrace. She could smell the distinct sent of leather in her nose and the fire before her tingled the bare skin on her face with it’s warmth. This felt good, she decide, this was finally something familiar she could hold on to. Sitting here in her usual spot, which she had occupied countless times before, mad her feel save and for a moment she could forget.

She was younger, not the French Queen, only the girl betrothed to the Dauphin, and her head was mostly free of worry. She would giggle with her ladies and exchange whispered stories of their first kisses, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment when it had been her turn to share. She had been just a child back then, this time last year, dreaming of kissing the handsome young prince she had once known as a girl. Her head had been filled with sweet dreams and impossible wishes. What had changed, what had caused it all to go so terribly wrong? How had she ended up here? The answers escaped her mind. The only thing she could make out was that it was her fault. It had all been her doing in some way or another. If she had never listened to Cathrine’s pleading, if she had trusted in her love, maybe she would be happy now. Maybe he would be by her side and maybe Anne would have her father. But maybe she would have never gotten pregnant, the sleeping child in her arms would be an unfulfilled wish and he would be dead, and buried beneath the cold earth.

She couldn't change the past, so the only thing remaining was to trust in her decision, have faith that this had been the right path, not the one that brought her happiness but the one that kept his heart beating and his skin warm. But how could something that felt so utterly wrong be right, she didn't understand. She knew, the one thing she could do now was take her of the child in her arms, gift her daughter the love, she herself had never shared with her distant mother. It was her duty her debt. All the love in her heart she still kept for him would be given to his daughter, maybe the child would never know her father but the least she could do was share his love with her. That much she owed them all.

„Mary“ his breathless voice ungently ripped her from her thoughts and her eyes grew wide as she took in his figure in the doorway.

„Mary, why are you doing this?“ he approached the chair she was still resting in, his steps wide. „Please don't do this.“

His eyes were filled with pain again as the weight of her betrayal hit him. In his eyes she was taking his daughter away from him, was closing herself off once more.

„Bash, I am sorry.“ her voice was small, weakened by the heavy guilt.

„Then come back. I will take care of you both. Please, I need you, Mary.“ his eyes were so close, as he fell on his knees before her.

The gesture didn't befit a King but he seemingly didn't care. His hands reached for her free one, and she could feel his desperation.

„It will be easier this way. I want to stay close to Anne, and here she wont wake you with her cries at night. You need your sleep.“ she focused her gaze on her daughter for fear, he would catch the lie in her eyes.

„No Mary, I don’t care, please. Don't give up on us now, we need to face this together.“ his voice seemed so strained with burden and he looked so utterly helpless.

„I’m not leaving you, Bash, I promise. I just … I need some space. Please try to understand.“ she bit her lip as he gently lifted her head with his hand and forced her gaze to meet his.

„I can’t. I need to protect you, both of you. If anything happens … it will be my fault.“ he squeezed her limp hand in his. „Just please, stay in our chambers until he’s gone. I promise, I wont let him stay much longer.“

His words confused her, who was not staying much longer? What had anyone else to do with their distant marriage, she didn't understand.

„Bash, what are you saying? Who isn’t …“her voice trailed off as she realized that he was talking of his brother.

„Mary, I know his presence is causing you distress and I don't want him to be a constant reminder. I have tried to ask him to leave, but he refuses to listen.“ he sounded angry now, and frustrated.

„But why?“ she felt so guilty.

Bash didn't know that his brother was not the cause of her pain but rather the one thing that had kept her heart beating when everything else had seemed lost. But she couldn't very well tell him that. It would destroy him. It was better to let him think that Francis was making her unhappy, however she need him to stay. It was selfish, but she couldn’t loose him again so soon, not now.

„He’s angry about Cathrine. I tried to tell him, I tried to reason but he wants her released. We can’t let her go free, Mary. It’s too dangerous.“ her husband seemed far away now as he lost himself in his frustration.

„Did he tell you that, that he’ll stay?“ she tried her best to keep the hopefulness from her voice.

„Well he … but why do you …“ clearly he had caught onto the desperate tone in her voice.

The pain was taking the place of his anger and frustration as he gaped at her with sad eyes. His hand let go of hers and he took a step back.

„You don’t want him to leave.“ he whispered the words and the hurt was clouding his unsteady voice.

„Please Bash, don’t.“ she could feel her own voice break and a single tear escaped her eye.

„No, Mary. I know you love him but I thought that after all that happened and the baby, you would see. You cant do this, he will destroy us, he will kill us if he finds out what I did.“ he sounded so deeply hurt and the pain in his eyes bore into her bruised heart.

„I am sorry.“ she knew it was hideous, the way he had given her everything and had received nothing in return.

„No, I am sorry, Mary. But I can’t do this, he needs to leave. I am his King and I will command him to.“ he was furious, his hands were balled into fists and his eyes were lit with fiery rage.

She flinched at his harsh tone and Anne was stirring in her arms. Her tiny feet kicked against her chest and she started to cry, the adults loud voices having woken her. Her puffy face was growing red with strain and Mary tried to calm her, rocking her in her arms.

„Please“ the tears were still evident on her eyes and she kept her eyes on the distressed baby.

„I should leave.“ his voice was ice cold, and she flinched when the doors fell close with a loud bang.

She hated herself, for the pain and disappointment she had caused him. He was furious, and he had every right to be. His voice had sounded so utterly derived of any hope and his eyes had turned cold towards her. He had finally seen it, realized that she truly still wanted his brother and not him, even when she was holding his apparent child in her hands and was bound to him before god. He had seen the cowardliness in her actions and how all she had done was hurt him.

She tried to calm her breathing while bobbing Anne against her body in hopes to stop her screaming. She had risen from her chair and was now pacing before the windows, trying to distract her mind with the stormy sky outside.

The baby’s cries continued to fill the room and she waved away the wet nurse that offered to take Anne from her. No, she deserved this, she deserved to hear her daughter’s upset. She had every right to be angry with her mother. She had made too many wrong choices, had caused too much harm. Worst of all, she didn't even feel saddened by Bash’s reaction. Her husband’s anger had evoked her guilt anew but she didn't grieve for his trust. He had lost her months ago and had only now realized it. She had long ago already come to terms with their platonic marriage and her seemingly indestructible craving for his brother.

She should care, she should hurry after him, apologize, swear that it was him that she loved, that she would be a good wife and mother. But she couldn’t. It was her fault, her guilt and blame but she didn't have the strength to face her sins, to face him.

„I promise I will make it right one day.“ she whispered the words and placed a kiss on Anne’s soft head.

The baby haled her screaming for a moment, looking at her mother’s face with wide eyes. But the silence didn't wear long as a knock sounded on the door. Mary turned, the movement too sudden, and Anne resumed her seemingly inexhaustible crying.

It was Kenna. Her lady curtsied and hurried towards her.

„I am sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.“ she looked at Mary with unusually shy eyes.

Kenna seemed scared of her, eyeing her every movement like a frightened deer. She still feared her Queen’s backlash, for her disobedience, for unleashing her secret. If only she knew that Mary had never truly been angry at her. Yes she had been disappointed but a part of her knew that Kenna had done what she herself had been too scared and cowardly to do. If it hadn't been for her confession to Francis, she might not even be standing here this very moment and she might have never heard her daughter scream in her arms. No, she definitely wasn't angry. Kenna was the only one left, and she wouldn't loose another friend to jealousy or ill thought. She couldn’t afford that sentiment.

„Please, Kenna. It’s fine, I am not angry as I keep telling you.“ she offered her friend a weak smile, Anne still screaming in her arms.

„But you should be, I broke my promise to you.“ the girl looked to her feet with guilt filled eyes, gnawing on her bottom lip.

„You did, and I am thankful for it. If it hadn't been for your words I might not be alive right now.“ she had to raise her voice to make her words heard over her daughter’s cries.

„You are?“ Kenna stared at her with big eyes.

„Yes, now tell me why you came here. It surly wasn't Anne’s delightful voice.“ finally Kenna mirrored her smile.

„No, half the castle is kept awake at night by the princess’ lovely voice.“ the familiar wicked tone was back in her voice and it warmed Mary’s heart. „I know you’re not taking any audiences, of course you aren't so soon after the birth. But I don't know what to tell him anymore, it has been a week and he is relentless. I think he hopes I will give in because I was the one who told him in the first place.“ the nervousness was back in her voice and she looked at Mary questioningly.

Kenna didn’t need to mention his names, it was obvious, to them both, who she was talking about. He had promised her and who was she to doubt his words. Of course he would try to pursue her, she had given him only the faintest glimmer of hope and he clung to it.

„He wants to see me?“ her words sounded a little to hopefully.

She knew that she would have to keep him distant, if only for Anne’s sake. But the fact that he was truly seeking her company was lighting a long lost fire in her cold heart.

Chapter Text

20.

‚I am sorry‘ her tear-filled brown eyes closed in on him. He reached out for her face, but the moment he meant to touch her soft skin it was all ripped away.

He shot up in bed, his heart racing in his chest, and he was panting so heavily as if he had run ten miles. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears and his hand reached out to the other side of the bed. But all he could feel, was the thin sheets and more pillows, it was empty. There was no one in the bed with him, he was alone.

His mind seemed to be spinning as he slowly sat up under the covers. She had been so close, he could have sworn that she had been just there, inches from his face. But the air before him was empty, only lost dust flakes dancing in the morning sun. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his messy hair.

The warm sun rays tingled his skin and the bright light was straining his eyes. For a moment he pretended to forget, to imagine a time so far away now. These had been, in his chambers, in this familiar bed, he had spent so many nights in. The room held countless memories, too many.

Months ago, this was the exact spot he had woken in, to find her sound asleep in his arms. The sweet smell of her hair and soft skin had filled his nose and the way her body had fit into his had seemed so perfect. They had been meant for each other, at least in that moment.

Everything had been perfect back than, or at least he had thought so. Their kisses had reeked of sweetness and love and when he had tickled her she would let out squeals of joy, playfully punching his shoulder in reply. Her eyes would glow whenever they had met his and he had felt the love filling his heart.

He had kissed her stomach and whispered in her ear that he hoped she was pregnant. She had thrown one of the small decorative pillows at his head in response, giggling happily. They had been so sure of their future together. There wedding only weeks away and they had already dreamed of the children they undoubtedly would have one day.

They had already thought of names and they had a passionate debate on the matter. She had wanted their first son to be named James, after her late father, who she had never known. But they had disagreed over their daughter’s name. Margaret or Jane, after her father’s sisters or Cathrine she had argued, since the name ran in in both their families. But he had determinedly shaken his head, no he wouldn't name his child after his mother. Of course Cathrine would be thrilled, but no child deserved that burden.

Anne, he had proposed, his eyes glimmering with excitement. The name had a nice ring to it and he had always liked it. There was no particular connection to either of their families, but maybe that could be a good thing. It would be a fresh start, their own family and not a painful reminder of their treacherous ancestors.

She had looked at him with doubt filled eyes back then, but in the end she had stood no chance against his pleading face and the way he had sprinkled her neck with kisses.

Now that was all gone, only a fading memories of silly dreams. He felt it like a sting in the chest, the realization that those moments were forever lost now. ‚I am so sorry‘ her voice rang in his head. But her apologies did nothing to lessen his sorrow.

The children they had dreamed of, their life together it was all he had ever wanted but it was the one thing that he could never have. The babe in her arms wasn't his and the ring on her finger bore his brother’s name. A heaviness filled his chest and he could feel a tingling sensation at the pit of his empty stomach. It wasn't really jealousy he felt, rather the pain of an empty heart.

For a moment he had forgotten why he was still here, why he hadn't left this cursed place and all the painful memories it held. He had promised her, he had vowed that he would fight this time. It had sounded so courages and heroic back then, when in truth he hadn't the faintest idea how.

How could he fight for her now? So much had happened between them, too much maybe. Winning back a married Queen was pure madness. Even if he could bring her to admit her love or any other feelings she might still harbor towards him, what would that do? Wouldn't it only make it so much harder?

It already seemed impossible to face her as it was. Hearing that she longed for him as well, might give him brief satisfaction but it wouldn't change the fact that she was still married, tied to his brother. She had just given birth to his baby for god’s sake. This was folly and he knew it, but deep down in his heart some small part was pleading for him to stay. He had to try, even if he failed, he had to know that he had given it his all, fought till the bitter end.

He massaged his temples, as his head started to pound with all the frustration and tumultuous thoughts. He had no plan, he was absolutely clueless to what to do next. It seemed like the mountain he wanted to climb was a steep rock face with no footholds in sight.

He would start with another problem, the even more pending issue. His mother was still incarcerated with a death sentence hanging over her neck. This was what he had been trained to do since childhood. His diplomatic skills weren't the strongest but he was confident that he could negotiate some kind of deal. He wasn't asking for much, only for his mother release and safe passage to Italy. Why had Bash done it, the whole idea seemed so ludicrous to him and he could feel the anger trickling in again. He clenched his fists, pushing his feelings for Mary aside for the moment. He would never forgive his brother for killing his mother. He had already taken everything from him and he wouldn't give him this last piece of his life.

He pushed his tired body out of bed, determined to achieve at least some small accomplishment before the sun set again. His night gown was exchanged for the usual black shirt, dark breeches and an embellished doublet. There would be a banquet held today, in honor of the royal baby’s arrival. He already dreaded the people and questioning looks he would get, but there was no way around it. He was to show his respect to the King and crown.

-

A week had passed since he had held her face in his hands and he had cried heavy tears over her lifeless body, begging for her to live. It seemed so much farther away now, the whole memory like a dream. Whenever he would pass a lady with dark brown hair in the corridors, he would freeze for a single moment, thinking it was her. Of course it never was, how could it be her? It was silly to expect her out of her chambers, in public, so soon. She had barely escaped death days ago and her body would surely need more time to recover.

He wasn't sure if her ghostly absence was a blessing or curse. It certainly made things easier, since actually seeing her in public would surely be excruciating. On the other hand it pained him to think that she was so close, within the same castle walls, and still out of his reach. He wasn't sure how he had done it all these months, how he had actually survived without her. Not seeing her sweet face seemed unimaginable and cruel now. They had been destined for one another, two halves forming a perfect whole. Going about his day without her, felt so unnatural and wrong. The pull in his heart was so strong and the missing piece, a constant reminder of her absence.

But what if he couldn’t do it, what if couldn’t win her back and would loose her forever? How could he go on after that? It was unimaginable to him, he needed her. He prayed that in her heart her love was as true as his, and that there was still a fighting chance left. If the damage had already been done and all of this was beyond repair, only god may know what awaited him.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, keeping his eyes pinned to the floor as he strode towards the great hall. The festivities were about to start and slightly drunken laughter and the joyful tune of violins already sounded from the hall. France was celebrating, the baby was a girl and not the desired heir, but that didn’t seem to mute the happy spirits. She would be the heir to her mother’s Scottish throne and a royal baby, no matter the gender, was always a welcomed distraction from the usual dullness of everyday life at court.

Before he could turn the corner, another dark haired head caught his attention, he was familiar with this one.

„Kenna, a moment.“ he lightly touched her arm, directing her attention towards him.

„Francis“ there was a look of surprise and confusion in her eyes when her head spun towards him.

„I … I need to know. Is she well, is she getting stronger?“ he couldn’t keep the begging tone from his voice.

„She has been better.“ she calculated her choice of words carefully and her eyes were derived of any emotion as she spoke them.

Sometime it was so hard to tell with women. They could never straight out say what they meant, it was always intended as guessing game. It frustrated him, he had thought to having found a friend or at the very least a confident in her. But Kenna seemed just as cold and abrasive as ever.

„Kenna, please. I need to know if she’s okay.“ he took a measured step towards her and just like a dance, she moved back as well.

„She is alive, the child is alive. That is all that matters.“ she meant to turn away but he caught her by her shoulder.

„Please don’t do this Kenna. You said it yourself, I deserve to know.“ he quickly let go of her arm when she shot him a fiery look.

„Maybe you do, but that’s not up to me anymore. Whatever she want’s to tell you, she can do it herself. I told you certain things to keep her alive but now that she’s back, it his her choice. I’m not responsible for her decisions.“ she sounded weirdly frustrated.

He moved back, shocked by the bluntness and honesty of her words. She had been so considerate and kind back in the gardens. Now she was hurling words at him and he wasn't sure if she meant for them to sting, as much as they did, on purpose.

He could feel his jaw clenching and for reasons unknown to him, the anger was boiling in his stomach again.

„I really am sorry, Francis. Please know that, but it is her you need to talk to, not me.“ she quickly reached for his hand and the sudden change of tone in her voice took him by surprise.

He could feel her squeezing his hand for one short moment before letting go again. Her words had been gentle and filled with understanding this time.

Before he could offer a reply, she quickly bowed and disappeared behind the corner. He just stood there for a moment, unsure what to do next.

Whatever game it was they were playing, he felt grossly unqualified. The odds had been rigged against him from the start, so much had been obvious, but everyone seemed to only pile even more stones on his already too heavy plate. How was he supposed to better things with Mary, when she was locked away in her chambers and he wasn’t allowed to speak or even be in the same room as her.

He knew that this wasn't Kenna’s fault in particular, but she had helped him before and she could surely do so again, if she was so inclined. If Mary was out of his reach for now, he would start with her lady then. He would get her to talk and somehow convince her to help him. He needed to concur the fortress, Mary hid herself behind, and Kenna was his ticket in.

He let out a deep breath before setting his feet into motion again and heavy heartily turning the corner.

-

If things hadn't already been awkward enough with him back at court, sitting only meters away from his brother, the King, surely didn't help. The feast was in full flow and people where happily chatting all around him, their voices mixing with the tunes of the music.

He had barely uttered a word since entering the hall, merely saying a quick ‚thank you‘ to various Lords that would come up to him. Pushing his untouched food around on the plate set before him, he wanted nothing more than to be alone in his room, away from all the people and laughter. But he knew, that he had to stay and pay his respects to his King, however much he might detested it. He was the Dauphin again, next in line to the throne, at least until a son was borne. The title carried a certain respect and esteem, and the nobles would only be too happy to fall in favor with the heir to the French throne.

It filled him with some satisfaction to know that things didn't look too bright for his brother, as many still disliked the thought of a bastard on the throne. He knew that if he wanted to, he could chat up various influential Lords and add even more weight to the pressure on Bash’s shoulders. But however much the thought entertained him, he was in no mood to talk politics or plots behind his back. He still felt the bitterness when seeing his brother wear the crown that had been meant for his head. But once he pushed those jealous thoughts away he truly didn't yearn for all the stress and headaches that came with the title.

He let his eyes trail over the table, filled with noble lords and ladies. And once more it was Kenna, who caught his attention.

It wasn't so much the cheerful look on her face that struck him as odd, then it was the person she was currently talking too. The King himself was deep in conversation with Mary’s lady. The way they talked, how she addressed him a touch too informal for their difference in rank, struck a cord with him. They were way too familiar with one another to be mere acquaintances as befitted their stations. No, they had to know each other, and quite well by the look of it. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Maybe this was why she refused to talk to him. She had already chosen a side, and it wasn't his.

In truth, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Why would she then even talk to him then in the first place? Had she maybe even told Bash of his presence at his wife’s bedside? The thought made him uneasy. He wasn't particularly scared of his brother, but still, the idea that Bash new of his recent actions didn't sit well with him.

He swallowed hard, doing his best to try and calm his messy mind. If Kenna truly was so close to the King, it surely wouldn't make things easier. He drowned the last few sips of wine left in his glass and tried to think.

Maybe, just maybe, he could use this to his advantage. He only had to get Kenna to actually talk to him, a daunting thought. No one probably knew more about the royal couple’s situation than her. She was the one person that could help him, if she only wanted to.

He could hear her laughter even from where he was sitting, as she giggled at something Bash had said. She was a lot more relaxed than when he had talked to her hours ago. Her smile seemed genuine and the wine had clearly loosened her spirits.

Maybe this way she would open up to him. If he could only get closer to her somehow, maybe offer another glass of wine.

As if on cue, he could see his brother standing up and excusing self from the conversation. He left the chair next to Kenna vacant, as he moved towards a group of lords, who respectfully bowed their heads before him.

Without thinking twice, he got up from his chair himself and he could already feel the distinct pounding sensation in his head from all the wine. He pushed past a few lords and ladies, hurrying towards Kenna. But when he finally reached her, she was just leaving the table herself, striding towards the dance floor. He halted for one moment, unsure what to do now, but then conceived of another plan.

„My Lady.“ he gently brushed her arm, causing her to turn towards him.

„Would you do me the honor of having this dance.“ he slightly bowed his head before her.

She didn't respond at first, only gaping at him with surprised eyes. Clearly, she hadn't seen this coming and he could practically see the wheels turning as she tried to think of a response.

With his most charming smile in place on his lips, he offered his hand to her. The alcohol must have truly weakened her resolve, as she accepted his outstretched hand without another word.

They moved around each other in circles and he waited till the dance forced her back into his arms before speaking again.

„Tell me, Kenna.“ she was close enough for him to whisper the words into her ear.

„No, you know it is not my place. I will not defy my friend’s wishes again.“ her words sounded a little bit doggerel but her eyes were flashing at him again with determination.

„I only ask of you to tell me if she is better. I did help you, didn't I and I’m just curious wether it worked.“ the smirk wasn't totally honest but he wouldn't fall back into his desperate pleading again.

She stared at him for a moment, and just to be sure he gently tightened his hold on the small of her back. He wouldn't allow her to escape now.

„You men truly are insufferable. She’s alive, the child’s alive, everyone it fine. Are you happy now?“ her eyes were filled with fire and her tone cold as ice.

It lightened the weight on his shoulders to hear that she was alive and well but still that nagging voice at the back of his head remained. ‚You men‘, was she talking about someone else as well?

„Is it true, she moved out of the royal chambers?“ he might have sounded a bit to hopeful.

„That is none of your business.“ she snapped back.

A small satisfactory smile curled on his lips. He had her now.

„So it is true. The royal marriage is troubled?“ he was taunting her even further, as he new that her temper was due to snap any moment.

And he was right.

„I know it might be hard to accept, but she doesn't belong to you, nor your brother. You would all do good to leave her be. Of course she’s still week and recovering, but she doesn't need any of you, hovering over her. Don’t worry your pretty head about her. She’s perfectly save and content in her chambers …“ a sudden hiccup interrupted her tirade. „As befit a mother, she is spending her time looking after Anne as …“

„Anne?“ he interrupted her, his voice filled with incredulousness.

„Yes, the baby. You do remember she was pregnant?“ the wine had only amplified her temper.

But the mocking undertone in her voice left him cold, his mind too busy trying to ponder what she had just said.

He let go of her body as he stumbled backwards, away from the dancing and music. He could feel the sound of his racing heard drowning out all other noises and his head started to spin.

Maybe she missed him, maybe she even still loved him but nothing could ever excuse this. It was beyond cruel and he could feel his heart rebelling.

How could she, how could she do this to him? The tears were silently creeping into his eyes and the weigh of her betrayal threatened to drown him.

How dared she? She had no right. Taking the name he had chosen, using it to name her child that wasn't his. When she had pushed him away all these months ago, she had lost any right to him or the things he had told her.

He didn't know what she was playing at, but with doing this she had taken it a step to far. She had already taken their future from them. Had that not been enough? Had she no sympathy for him? It was simply cruel to take the this from him as well. The child they would never have, she mocked his loss with the name.

Chapter Text

21.

„A daisy, my dear. Isn't it beautiful.“ Kenna dangled the delicate flower in front of Anne’s face, eliciting a wave of excited giggles from the baby’s mouth.

Her daughter was squealing with joy, reaching out with her short hands and tried to grab the flower with her small fists, all the while kicking against Mary. Kenna’s mouth was wide open, a bright grin in her eyes as she kept the white petaled flower just out of the baby’s reach.

„She is so precious.“ Kenna gushed and Mary nodded her head in accordance.

Her lips were turned upwards in a content smile as well. Yes, Anne was the most precious thing and her love for her daughter was so pure and all encompassing. She could feel a surge of warmth enter her chest whenever her eyes would fall Anne’s golden face, her blue eyes sparkling with joy. She would sometimes cry at night, of course all children did. But other than those rare outbursts she was always happy and content. Such a perfect baby, her perfect daughter and now that she was finally here in her arms, Mary couldn’t even phantom how she had ever lived without her.

She had never imagines that a love for another person could bring her such joy and happiness, but Anne hat made her wiser. Until her, she had only ever loved one person as deeply and truly and all that that love had gotten her were misery and pain. It had destroyed a part of her, had made her heart cold and her dark eyes deprived of all joy. But that had changed, she had never dared to hope that the frozen part of her heart would ever warm up again, but it had. No matter how dire things looked, she could alway rely on the sweet child safely tugged in her arms to bring a true smile to her face.

Maybe it wasn't truly fair or right to say that her love for him had brought her nothing but hurt and misery. Yes, her heart had broken and there had been moments where the black nothingness of death had seemed like the better option, but after all their love had brought her this. All the strain and effort had been worth it, and if she had to choose she would do it all over again, a live without her daughter seemingly impossible now. She was the only part of him she had still left, a part that brought her joy and happiness, a part that had made her trust in love again.

It wasn't the same as loving him, it would never be, but it was good enough. And after all she had done, all the hurt she had caused the people around her, she hadn't thought she would be even deserving of this small piece of heaven. For now, just this one moment, her life was perfect, all her fears and worries far away.

The summer air was pleasantly warm around them and the grass so soft and pillowy. Mary had alway loved being outside, the fresh air and all the too often overlooked beauty around them. The birds were singing sweet songs in the lush green trees above their heads, and the fountain happily spewed a fine mist of water in the surrounding air. There were barely any clouds in the gloriously blue sky today and the sun’s long finger warmed their skin.

Normally she had always preferred darker tones and colours when it came to her gowns and dresses but today was different. She felt so free and younger again, more like the innocent girl that had arrived from the convent almost a year ago. She thought it only befitting to chose a lighter garment today, a cream coloured bodice with soft rosy skirts and delicate golden embellishments around her collarbones and waist. She still enjoyed the freedom of dresses without the usual tight corsets, as her body was still not fully recovered from the birth and needed room to properly heal.

She felt beautiful today, a rare state for her normally always troubled and self conscious mind. She would enjoy it as long as it lasted, she silently promised herself.

„I wish it was always as warm and sunny in France.“ Kenna sighed, her eyes wide and dreamy.

„Yes, well it’s still warmer than in Scotland, mind you.“ Mary chuckled lightly in response.

„I know, but still, it must be heavenly to live in the south. All the fresh fruit and the warm sea, good wine and looser etiquette.“ she gushed, her hand now absentmindedly twisting the flower between her fingers.

„Well, you can always find yourself a young and handsome southern lord to marry.“ she teased her friend.

Kenna returned her wicked smile with a smirk herself, laughing. It felt so incredibly good to have her friend back, to spend hours gossiping and gushing about dresses and new jewelry. They were just two young girls, not a care or worry in their pretty heads besides the questions which dress to choose for the next dance or dinner.

„I’am glad you’re your old self again. I have missed you, Mary.“ Kenna picked a few more of the small white flowers around them, collecting them in her hand.

„I’m not sure if I’ll ever bee my old self again, but I’m happy today. That is all that counts.“ she smiled, gently rocking the child in her lap.

It was true, she would most likely never find her way back to her old and carefree self again, too much had happened, too much tragedy had passed since then. But she was grateful for any moments without the constant worry and fear in the back of her mind, since they never lasted long. She was painfully aware that her present happy state wouldn't last either, it never did. Soon, maybe tomorrow, maybe in the next hour, her usual worries would return and she would once more be plagued by guilt and the uncertainty of her situation. But for now, all that was far away.

Kenna smiled at her, she probably knew too well how fragile her Queen’s bonheur was. She started intertwining the thin stems of the daisies, combing them into a long chain.

In her lap, Anne was reaching out her arms again, her mouth forming a small o as her sparkling eyes caught a glimpse of a butterfly, gliding through the air around them.

„It’s a butterfly, Anne.“ Mary pointed at the graceful insect. „It looks just like a flying flower, so many colours and shades.“

Anne excitedly bobbed her head out, now both arms extended towards the butterfly. A small scream of joy escaped her tiny mouth, bits of spit flying in all directions.

„Shh shh, don’t scare it away.“ Mary gently calmed her daughter excited arms, forcing her too still her sudden movements.

Anne obliged, letting her head fall back against her mothers chest, her eyes growing big with astonishment, as the small animal slowed and landed on her mothers extended finger. The butterfly flapped its wings one last time for balance, before folding them together, it’s legs holding onto Mary’s finger. The sensation tingled her hand and she dared not breath for fear of scaring the beautiful creature away. It was so graceful, the way it’s tiny wings curved and the rich blue colour bled into a soft yellow at the bottom, ornamented with thin black lines.

Anne couldn’t bare it any longer, letting loose another loud giggle and in turn sent the butterfly flying off Mary’s finger in seconds. The animal turned in circles before shooting skywards and disappearing behind them.

Anne kicked her little feet, trying to turn in her mother’s lap, and her laugh turned into a disappointed cry as the animal disappeared from her view. In hopes to calm the child’s temper, Kenna extended a hand and placed a freshly plucked daisy in Anne’s lap. Mary turned, angling her torso in the opposite direction to allow her daughter, who was now clutching the delicate flower, to look after the butterfly that had now settled on a gras holm a few feet away. Anne shook her hands and waved the flower at the butterfly. She was hitting Mary’s arms and she could see the effort reddening her sweet puffy face.

„It’s okay Anne, it’s still here. See.“ she smiled, pointing at the colorful insect before them.

She contemplated moving, to get closer to the animal that fascinated the child in her lap so intently. But before she could even finish the thought, the butterfly suddenly shot away again. It had darted up in the sky escaping the steps approaching them.

An angry cry left Anne’s puckered lips and her small brows furrowed with frustration. She threw the daisy after the animal, the disappointed red in her chubby face.

Before Mary could even think of a way to calm the angry child in her lap, a shadow darkened the grass around them. The person squatted before them, picking up the daisy, Anne had so viciously tossed away. She instinctively looked up and their eyes met for a brief moment, and her heart seemed to freeze in her chest in surprise.

Thankfully her friend reacted quicker beside her. Kenna instantly let go of the unfinished flower crown in her hands, rising at once to face the intruder, and block Mary from his view.

„You shouldn’t be here.“ her voices suddenly sounded cold and hard as she looked at him challenging.

Mary, froze, suddenly grasping her daughter tighter in her arms as she instantly recognized the man before them. All the joy and carefreeness was gone at once as the familiar uncomfortable tight feeling in her chest returned. She could sense her heart beat quickening in her chest and a sudden feeling of panic set in. She couldn’t move, her muscles were locked in place, unwilling to oblige any of her commands.

„You can’t be seen here. Please, just leave.“ Kenna's tone grew louder, more insistent.

„I don’t care.“ she could sense him move closer, as her head was still directed towards the grass unable to meet his eyes.

Only when she could feel Anne rebelling against her tight grasp, her little fists hitting her stomach, her body finally reacted. She shot up, clutching the baby against her chest, as to shield her from his view. The panic won over and she stumbled back a few steps.

It had been foolish, to bring her daughter out her in the open, of course he would take advantage. She couldn’t allow him to see her, he wasn't stupid and would figure it out. She couldn’t let him, if he knew, if he realized what she had been hiding from him, from them, all this time, it would surely anger him. There was no telling how he would react and she wouldn't put Anne in that danger. It was infidelity, treason against her husband and country and she would loose her head if it became public knowledge. No, no, she had to get away from him.

„Mary, please talk to me.“ He took another step towards her, ignoring the fear glimmering in her eyes.

He looked like his old self again, his soft hair combed and the stubble around his mouth was gone, leaving only smooth skin. His complexion looked healthy again and his eyes weren't reddened from tears, unlike that last time she had seen him so close, when he had hovered above her. It scared her even more, the way he looked like nothing had changed, so put together, the desperation and pleading gone from his crystal blue eyes.

It evoked so many emotions of all the things she longed to forget but could never quite let go. The way his eyes weren't looking at her with disappointment but with such a familiar warmth and adoration. He looked just like she remembered him, his charming old self. The golden curls glistening in the warm sun and the way he wore his shirt loose, not fully tied up in the front, only partially covered by his usual black doublet. He was truly handsome, and made her remember how she had fallen in love with him in the first place, they had been in the gardens back then as well. He was smiling at her, his eyes kind in an effort to calm her fear filled heart.

But she couldn’t take it, it was all too much. The memories were too painful in her head and she continued stumbling backwards, but had to stop when she nearly tripped over the long seam of her own dress. She pressed the child against her chest, as Anne had started to cry again, screaming in her ears.

Kenna was right behind Francis and her eyes were determined, like a loyal dog protecting it’s owner as she glared at him.

„She doesn't want you here.“ her tone was challenging him and her words lines with fire as she positioned herself between him and Mary, her arms placed on her hips.

But he didn't listen, seemingly indifferent to her words and simply pushed past her, his eyes still intently focused on Mary.

„Then she can tell me that herself.“ his voice sounded so calm and he didn't even look at Kenna, who just glared at him with incredulousness eyes, muttering something under her breath.

„Mary, I am not angry, just please say something.“ he reached his arm out towards her, his eyes now pleading with hers.

She didn't answer, she couldn’t. Even if she had wanted too, the words were stuck in her throat and she simply continued to stare at him, the sight of his blazing blue eyes blurring any coherent thought.

„I don’t care that you’re married to my brother, I don't care that Anne isn't my child …“ he carried on but the rest of his words were lost to her.

Now that he said it, that he had actually spoken her name out loud, she could feel a distinct jolt in her heart. ‚Anne‘, it was the name he had chosen for their child, never knowing that it actually carried that name now. She had nearly forgotten that conversation they had had in bed one night, months ago, arguing over child names. For some inexplicable reason she had instantly known her daughter’s name, the moment the midwife had asked her. Now that she contemplated it, it seemed cruel and right at the same time. He must have probably thought her monstrous for giving the child, he didn't know to be his, the name he had chosen. When in truth, it was a way to give Anne a piece of her father, a way to compensate for the endless lies.

The child halted it’s screaming in her arms as his words filled the air around them. Mary could feel her small body twisting against her chest, trying to turn towards the origin of the voice.

It shot through her like a sharp arrow, knocking all the air out of her lungs. She had been so lost in the memories, but he didn't know what he was saying. He was so oblivious as to his words’ meaning. He would care, he would care that she was his daughter too and that she was keeping his child from him. He was open with her, he had always been honest, had never hid anything from her. But she had lied to him for months again and again, was still lying to him in this moment, her baby’s blue eyes the undeniable proof.

She could feel her facade crumbling again as her body wanted nothing more than to accept his outstretched hand, to tell him that she too loved him and that it would all be okay. But it wouldn’t, it wouldn't all be okay, she had made sure of that with the choices she had taken.

„Please stop.“ she could feel the hot tears in her eyes as her lips formed the words „I want you to leave, Francis.“

He halted his advances and stared at her for a moment, unsure how to react. But when the pain and tears in her eyes registered in his mind, his mouth fell slightly open and his blue eyes grew sad. Anne started crying again, her skin bright red and her face contorted as if she too, could feel her parents’ misery. She could see him swallow hard, forcing himself to mask the hurt and disappointment her words had caused him but his strong and charming facade was crumbling as well, only revealing glimpses of the broken heart beneath. He nodded his head before turning on his heals, without another look back.

Only when he had safely disappeared back inside the castle, she allowed herself to breath again and the effort made her mind dizzy. She could feel a tingling sensation in her stomach and tried to hide the sobs, now shaking her torso.

It was all one big mess, and she was clueless as to how to make things right again. The whole situation was too much and she was merely a helpless marionette, hopelessly exposed to destiny’s cruel course.

„Mary, it’s okay. He’s gone now.“ Kenna was at her side again, gently stroking her arm in an effort to calm her. „I apologize, I should have never allowed him to get so close. I will be more careful next time, I promise.“ she looked at Mary with guilty eyes.

She just shook her eyes, this wasn't Kenna’s fault and she wouldn't let her friend feel responsible for her own sinful actions.

„Should I take Anne, I can call for the wet nurse if you want.“ she offered her hands to take the wailing child from her Queen’s arms.

But Mary refused, only holding onto Anne even tighter. She wasn't sure how to react, but the one thing she knew for sure, was that she couldn’t let her daughter go now, she was the only safe thing in her world.

„Come“ Kenna guided her back to their blanked, where the unfinished flower crown was still laying forgotten and gently helped her sit down again. „Does he scare you?“

Mary managed to shake her head. In some ways she was afraid what his actions might cost them both, if she let him get too close, but he didn't directly scare her. The panic that had overtaken her body just moment ago was not cause by any danger on his side but the sheer fear that he could find out.

„You must know he loves you. He would never hurt you or Anne.“ Kenna’s hands were fidgeting with the daisy chain again.

„Of course, but …“ how could she explain that there were things she couldn’t tell him, couldn't share with even her closest friend?

„I know you feel like you have no one to trust. But please don’t keep it all to yourself. You can tell me, I swear I wont share your words with anyone, you know I wouldn’t.“ she was knotting together the two ends of the chain, finishing the flower crown.

She wiped the tear stains from her cheeks, slowly collecting herself again. Anne had mercifully stilled her crying in her arms and was now contently hustled against her chest, her tiny fist clutching the soft material of her dress.

„I can’t. I know you won’t understand, but there are things I can’t say out loud. It would be too dangerous.“ she sounded pathetic and her excuses weak.

Kenna let out a sigh, clearly disappointed by her friend lack of trust. But she put on a brave smile and carefully arranged the daisies in a circle.

Mary’s eyes followed her friends hands, and the memories the images sparked in her mind made her smile. She could hear laughter, the happy giggles of children rolling in the soft gras. He had always collected the flowers and had placed them into her lap with a proud smile on his young face. Then he would have patiently waited for her to finish braiding the flowers together and his eyes had shun with joy when she had placed the finished crown on his unruly curls, mirroring the one already on her own darker hair.

He had been the King and she his Queen in theses day, ruling over the bushes and flowers in their small kingdom between the paths of the gardens.

She smiled, and Kenna was visibly relieved to see her friend’s mind at ease again.

„Her you go, little princess.“ she carefully placed the small circle of flowers on Anne’s soft head, who opened her sleepy eyes.

Just like her father, she thought, and pressed a sweet kiss on her daughter’s still rosy cheek.

Chapter Text

22.

She looked happy, enjoying the sun with Kenna and her daughter. He wasn't gonna lie, it had hurt to find out about her daughter’s name. He still wasn't sure why she had done it, what benefit it would bring her or the child. If he didn't miss her so dearly, her anew betray would have rendered him senseless with anger, but in the end his heart was always stronger.

His hands were pressed against the windowsill as he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The three of them were too far away to tell exactly what they were doing but she truly seemed relaxed, a rare sight theses days. Whenever he had seen her these past weeks, which hadn't been often, she would have quickly hurried away as if she had been scared of his reaction. And no matter how often he had requested to see her, he had been denied every single time.

‚She doesn’t want to see you.‘ he had now lost count of how many times Kenna had told him those exact words. Mary’s lady was avid in her role as her Queen’s protector and guard dog. She had only slipped up that one time at the feast. She must have been quite intoxicated by all the wine back than, as she had never remotely opened up to him that much since that encounter.

Sometime he thought to have seen pity flash in her deep brown eyes when she had rejected him, time after time, after time. He had tried to coax something out of her without success. No matter how charming his words had been or how many glasses of wine he had offered her, she would always refuse and quickly seek to escape his presence. If the whole thing wasn't so frustrating, he would have chuckled at how scared she seemed to be of him now. He knew it, and she did as well. She had let something slip once, proof that her cold facade wasn't impenetrable.

Maybe she even longed to tell him more than she could allow herself to, but in the end she always stayed loyal to Mary. He respected that devotion, even if he didn't agree with it. Sometimes he was simply thankful to know that Mary had a least one true friend she could rely on.

This was truly a rare occasion, she was so close, just a few meters away, out there on the grass. Thinking about it, this must bee the first time, he had ever seen her with the baby and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Of course he was glad that they had both survived and the child was now safe in her mother arms. But at the same time she was the living and breathing reminder of everything that had passed between them. She really was married to his brother and in truth there wasn't anything he could do against that. His bastard brother was the one with the golden crown on his head while he was dammed to hide behind windows to catch even the faintest glimpse of her.

He could see the baby in Mary’s lap while Kenna was pulling faces at her, eliciting a smile from the child and mother both. This was wrong, hiding here in the shadows. She was happy, or at least happier than he had seen her in a long while and who was he to disturb that happiness. What gave him the right to interfere with her life? This had been her choice after all, maybe this truly was what she wanted.

He clenched his fists, the frustration making his fingers tremble. He allowed his head to fall against the cool stone as he tried his best to clear his mind.

He wouldn't stop now, he had promised himself that weeks ago at her bedside. No, he shouldn't care if it made her uncomfortable, he had to do this, for himself. He needed to at least try. That, he owed his still aching heart.

It took every last bit of his will power to bring himself to leave his safe hideout behind the window. He hated admitting it, but in that moment he was scared, like a small boy facing his biggest fear. His heart was racing in his chest, just at the thought of seeing her so close again.

How would she react? Would he even get close enough, or would Kenna keep him away? Would she actually speak to him, or allow herself to look at him without the heavy fear and sadness in her eyes?

His stomach rebelled, not at al d’accord with what he was about to do. He slowly shook his spinning head in a effort to calm his racing mind. This wouldn't work if they saw his trembling hands or heard the fear in his shaking voice. No matter how impossible it seemed, he needed to look strong on the outside. His inner fear and unsureness would have to be hidden behind a mask, radiating strength and determination. In other words, he would have to play the game of hide and seek so familiar at French court.

It would be the only way to get through this. He couldn’t dare let his real emotions show, for fear they might break him all together. He took in a deep breath and savored the boost the oxygen it gave him. Straightening himself out, he ran his hands through his hair one last time, calming his unruly curls and unnecessarily dusting off his doublet.

With one last look at his reflection in the glass he exited the castle through a side door, and the golden smile fell into place on his lips.

The warm air surprised him, but he welcomed the fresh feeling, filling his body. He would have to be careful now, if Kenna spotted him too soon his chance would be gone. He circled around to the gardens till both their backs faced his direction. The freshly cut grass felt so soft under his feet and the sun tickled his skin.

He slowly moved closer and he could now hear the baby let out cries of joy, as she happily bobbed her whole body in her mother’s lap. He had to admit, the way she stretched our her short arms, trying to catch a butterfly, was adorable. But he couldn’t let himself get sidetracked by that, she wasn't his and he wasn't here because of her, but her mother.

Kenna and Mary still had their heads turned the opposite direction ignorant to his presence. But the colourful little insect that had fascinate the baby just moments ago, was now darting past him towards the lake and in an attempt to reach after it the child turned in Mary’s lap.

Their eyes only met for a split second, but her tiny round face looked so familiar. It was irrational, but he felt like he had seen her before. And in a way he had, he guessed. She looked so much like her mother. The small patch of chest brown hair that covered the top part of her head and how her cheeks and forehead were formed just like Mary’s, covered by the familiar pale skin. Only the eyes didn't quite fit. Unlike her mother’s deep brown ones, her’s were much lighter, as clear as the water. He thought he had seen a flash of green in them, the only mark, besides the colour of her hair, his brother seemed to have left on the child.

She gaped at him for a second, her mouth falling slightly open, before she looked past him and hurled a tiny white flower in his direction. He carefully moved closer and squatted down to pick up the daisy.

Now both Mary and Kenna turned their heads towards him and seemed to be dumbfounded for a moment, as they both froze. It took every bit of self control to keep his eyes warm and his smile charming as he caught the undeniable look of horror and pain in Mary’s eyes. Kenna was the first to snap out of her own surprise and quickly scrambled to her feet.

Her eyes were burning with fire as she outright glared at him.

„You shouldn’t bee here.“ she spat the words at him, moving her body between him and Mary, forcing his attention away from her Queen.

He instinctively sought to fight back, the poisonous words already on his tongue but he made himself swallow his frustration. When he met Kenna’s determined eyes again, he simply smiled at her as if nothing was amiss. And it worked, for one short moment the surprise won over and she wasn't sure how to respond.

„You can’t be seen here. Please, just leave.“ she hissed after a moment of silence.

He had expected no less of her. Still, he kept his face relaxed and his eyes warm, knowing that this was his only weapon. She would expect him to plead or beg like a pathetic little boy and he wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

„I don’t care.“ he smirked at her, taking a step closer as he challenged her next move.

As long a he concentrated on Kenna’s face, it wasn't impossible to keep this little game up. Thankfully, Mary had half turned away from him, protectively pressing the child against her chest as if to shield her from his view. Could she seriously be afraid of him hurting the baby? No, that was ridiculous.

Finally she reacted as she suddenly shot up, still tightly clutching the child. She still had her eyes directed to the ground, avoiding his at all cost, as she stumbled away from him.

„Mary, please talk to me.“ he took another measured step in her direction, and he could feel his happy facade crack.

In response she sought to practically ran backwards to escape him and it was only when she threatened to trip over her own dress that she stopped. The child had stared to cry in her arms as it fidgeted in her mother’s tight grip.

It was only then that she finally looked up and met his eyes for one brief moment. It took him by surprise, how her eyes were filled with panic and widened by an inexplicable fear. He felt it like sharp sting in his chest and now it was actually Kenna, who came to his rescue.

„She doesn't want you here.“ her voice was a dangerous rumble as she once more pushed herself between him and Mary.

That short moment of distraction was enough for him to recompose his thoughts and secure the charming smile into position once more.

„Then she can tell me that herself.“ he kept his voice measured and warm, no accusations or anger lining his words.

He simply pushed past Kenna, and he could feel her small body tighten beside him.

„You promised, you’d stay away.“ she muttered under her breath, so only he would hear it.

His face didn't even waver and he feigned ignorance as he moved closer towards Mary.

When he was close enough to detect the hidden tears glistening in her eyes, he halted his advance.

„Mary, I am not angry, just please say something.“ he reached his right arm out to her in a welcoming motion.

She flinched slightly but did nothing but continue to stare at him. When after a few moments she still wouldn't speak, he continued.

„I don’t care that you’re married to my brother, I don't care that Anne isn't my child or that you lied to me for months. Just please talk to me.“ it got increasingly harder to keep the pain from his voice.

He could see something change in her face as he spoke and her whole face seemed to crumble before him. She broke their mutual stare for a moment, looking down. The child had stopped her screaming and was now twisting in her mother’s arms as if to turn towards him.

The way Mary looked at him in that moment, reminded him of a beaten animal, scared of another punch. She was trapped here before him with the child in her arms.

The tears were now becoming more visible in her wide eyes and when he thought she couldn’t take it any longer, she finally spoke.

„Please stop.“ her voice was so small, and he could see her lips tremble „I want you to leave, Francis.“

At that point he couldn’t keep it together for another second. It was simply too much, seeing the pain so blatant in her eyes and how she would flinch whenever he spoke. She was scared of him, there was no doubt about it. It pained him beyond words to know that he could evoke such emotions in her, especially since he had no idea why. He knew that she had avoided him since their last encounter, fearful that she would loose control once more. But this was different, it mad no sense.

He had lost this round, she had explicitly asked him to leave. He swallowed hard, fully aware that his disappointment and pain would show in his eyes. But he didn't care any longer, he had tried his best and it hadn't worked. At least not this time, he concluded.

He nodded his head before her, as there was nothing else left to do or say and he wanted nothing more than to get farther away before he lost it completely.

He hurried away from them, towards the castle walls. This time wishing to hide behind them. He didn't turn around once or look back, as he could already feel the tears hot in his own eyes.

-

„Is it working, has she talked to you?“ Amélie set down her cup of wine.

„Not directly.“ he swallowed the sip of wine in his mouth.

Ironically, the seemingly naive girl he had met weeks ago in Paris was now one of his closest friends. She could offer great advise but at the same time knew when to change to a lighter topic.

His finger was twisting the wrinkled daisy, the only reminder of their encounter, in his hands. For some inexplicable reason, he had chosen to hold onto it.

He wasn't ashamed of his friendship with Amélie, but tried to keep their meetings private. To him she truly was nothing more than a friend, but he knew that people would talk. Gossip would blossom, the cast away prince finding solace in another pretty girl’s arms. No, he would do his best to keep those rumors from spreading. Especially since his main goal in coming here was to somehow get closer to Mary. Her thinking that he had already set his eyes on another, surely wouldn't help.

Amélie had her arms thrown around a pillow as she rested on his deep velvet couch beside the window. She always seemed so happy and carefree whenever he saw her. But the sweet smile on her lips wasn't truly honest, he had come to know that much.

One night, when he had been utterly incapable of articulating his feelings and thoughts, she had filled the silence with her own stories. Before her time in Paris, she had made the acquaintance of a young noble man in the south. Her eyes had been filled with joy, when she had described the man to him, and she had lost herself in the memories. But a moment later the joy had given way to a deep sadness in sweet face. When recounting the details of how he had been forced to marry another and how she had been completely powerless, the look in her eyes had given him goose bumps. She had sniffled and quickly wiped away a stray tear and her broken heart had been glaringly obvious.

She was good at hiding her pain though, covering it with her free spirit and merry temper. The smile on her full lips was omnipresent but when you knew where to look for her true state of mind, her heavy green eyes gave it away in an instant.

It was most likely the reason, he felt so comfortable sharing his burdens with her. She knew how hard it was. She understood him because she herself had lived it. Her empathy towards him wasn't fake but rather a mirror of her own emotions and memories.

Neither had spoken for several minutes, but the silence seemed to calm his mind rather than to arouse any feelings of awkwardness. Her fingers were absentmindedly playing with the delicate stem of her wine glass as she twisted it in her hand. Her face was half turned from him and her eyes followed the sunset behind the window.

„I don’t know what to do anymore. She refuses to see me and when she does, it’s … it’s like she’s afraid of me.“ he finally found the courage to speak.

She twisted on the sofa and the empathy that filled her eyes help calm his racing heart somewhat. His fingers were now playing with a stray bread crumbs in his lap, as he did his best to keep his mind occupied with something other than the panic in Mary’s eyes.

„Maybe it’s not you but rather what she associates you with.“ she tired to offer advise.

„You should have seen her. She was horrified of me and the closer I came, the more she panicked.“ recounting the exact details wasn't pleasant.

„I am truly sorry for you, Francis. I know that this must be hard.“ she gave him a comforting smile. „Just maybe, you should try a different approach?“

„A different approach?“ he didn't quite understand.

Sometimes he needed her solely for her view of things. Women did approach these matters of the heart differently and he was glad to have her as a translator.

„You know, not confront her so directly.“ her eyes were trying to tell him something but he was still ignorant as to her meaning.

When he just answered her with a confused look and furrowed brows, she quickly continued.

„Maybe seeing you in person is too much for her, especially before other people. I know it’s not fare, since she’s the one responsible for your situation but you have to see it from her view.“ she scooted closer to him and took his hand into hers. „I was thinking, maybe finding a way to send her her favorite flowers or a small token of your appreciation. That way she wont have to hide herself in front of you or anyone else and can think it over privately. Do you know what I mean?“

He slowly nodded, finally understanding her implications. It did make sense in a way. He himself had experienced how hard and unforgiving it could be to be confronted with one’s weak heart in public. A small part of him might have liked the idea of making her feel shameful before her friends for just a moment. She did deserve to join in his misery, but it was cruel and wouldn't help him.

No, Amélie was right. A small token of his still prevailing love for her might force her heart open again.

Chapter Text

„Your Majesty“ her guards bowed as she entered her chambers.

Her maids and Anne’s nanny were trailing closely behind her. It was a good day and her cheeks were still flushed from the cool morning air. Her morning walks had become a daily ritual and Kenna would always keep her company in these lonely early hours.

„The princess Anne.“ the nanny bowed before handing the peacefully sleeping child to her.

She was still too small to take her out into the cold to often and Mary relished the moment she would hold her in her arms again. Her round face was so relaxed and her eyes were closed.

Mary moved towards one of her dressing tables, intending to put down the flowers she had picked in the gardens. They were so colourful, a deep blue and shades of yellow and red as she inspected them in her hand. Anne would love them, the child had developed a certain fascination for flowers.

But just when she let the flowers glide onto the polished wood of the table, she stilled in her movement. Something was different, she wasn't yet sure what exactly, but the feeling made the thin hairs on her arms stand. There was something here that most definitely hadn't been in her room when she had woken.

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she took in the sizable bouquet of wild flowers in her favorite white porcelain vase. They were beautiful, absolutely breathtaking but at the same time she felt a shiver run down her spine at the sight of them. Her maids would have never dared to put them in here without asking permission, let alone in the delicate white vase.

Her heart stopped when her eyes fell on the folded parchment in the bouquet’s shadow. Despite the distance, she instantly recognized the handwriting.

„Leave me.“ the servants looked at her in confusion for a moment, but nonetheless silently obeyed her command.

When the last had shuffled out of the room and the heavy doors had fallen closed she allowed herself to breath out again. She could feel her mind starting to spin and decided it better to set Anne down in her crib.

She swallowed before reaching for the letter with a shaking hand. It weighed heavy in her palm and she dreaded it’s content.

‚Mary‘ was written on the front in long and curved letters. The black inc was a distinct contrast to the pale paper underneath.

She could feel her blood pulsing through her veins as she instinctively clutched the letter to her chest right above the spot where her heart rested. It was a way of compensating his absence, she told herself.

Touching the smooth paper couldn’t come close to actually feeling his skin against hers but it was all she had of him in that moment. It had been him, who had written out her name in long, and beautiful strokes and his fingers, who had folded the paper at a perfect angle.

In her mind she relished the idea of holding a piece of him in her own hands. Even his scent, so distinctly familiar to her body and mind, still faintly lingered on the paper. Maybe he had carried it under his doublet bringing it here.

She hadn't actually thought of that yet, her heart to lost in the sentiment of it, but how had the flowers and his letter gotten here? Surely her servants would have never allowed it inside. They were under strict instructions to not allow him anywhere near her chambers and she trusted them, fully.

Her eyes searched the room for any indications of an intruder and got caught on the spot on her back wall, where she knew the secret door to the passage ways was hiding. No, he wouldn't have actually dared to enter her rooms, would he? Her head was suddenly very heavy with the thought of him having been in this room. But how else could he have gotten the things in here?

She could feel a slight shiver creep up her spine at the idea of it. She hadn't been gone for more than an hour, meaning he must have just been here, in the exact same spot, minutes ago. The thought alarmed her, though she couldn’t deny that knowing he had been here was comforting.

She hadn't spoken or even truly seen him since the incident on the front lawn with Anne and Kenna. Her heart plummeted at the memory, still so painfully sharp in her mind. Back than she had hoped or maybe feared that she might have finally pushed him away. Clearly that hadn't been the case, and a sudden warmth overtook her heart, right where the smooth paper touched her bare skin.

But what if he had had enough and this was just his goodbye to her? Would he not dare face her again and rather write some quick lines on paper instead? She could feel all the hope, which had occupied her heart just moments ago, flee her body and leave her scared and shivering despite the fire in the room. If that truly was the case, how could she bring herself to open the letter and face his undeniable farewell.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, biting the inside of her cheek. Her whole body suddenly felt incredibly tense and heavy, impeding any movements. It was only when Anne let out a small but content moan, that her lids flew open again.

She had to open it, there was no way she could deny herself the truth hiding behind the folded paper, and she truly was curious.

With shaking fingers, she ripped the sloppy seal, tearing it open and unfolding the paper. After another deep breath, she allowed herself to take in the words, scribbled across the page.

‚My dearest Mary,

I am sorry for any trouble or discomfort I have caused you. It was truly never my intention to scare you, so let this be my apology.
I do not understand why you still refuse to talk to me, and maybe I never will. But please know that whatever has happened and whatever will happen cannot ever change the fact that I love you. You might not feel the same way, and I can learn to accept that and live with your choice.
I just ask of you to tell me why. If you do, I will walk away and leave you, your daughter and your husband in peace. I promise it on my love and honor.

I love you Mary,
forever’

She wasn't sure what she had expected to find, but it certainly hadn’t been this. The tears were heavy in her eyes and she could feel her breaths come out as broken gasps.

Simply knowing that he had actually writing these words, dedicated his mind to her for however long, was spiking her pulse. Her mind was a messy storm of impulsive thoughts and heavy emotions. With one hand she sought to wipe away the tears staining her cheeks and smearing the pale powder, but they wouldn't relent. Even with the back of her shaking hand pressed against her mouth, she couldn’t fully muffle the sobs, escaping her throat.

She let the letter glide onto the table next to the nearly forgotten flowers and she herself sank down in the heavy arm chair beside the wooden table.

What was she to make of this? Her emotions were to confused to form any coherent thoughts and she hurried her face in her hands. He loved her, these words were the undeniable proof of that. Reading it black on white had been harder than she would have ever imagined it to be. Of course her heart relished knowing he still cared so deeply for her, despite all her betrayals against him. But it also scared her beyond words, how strong and unbreakable there bond was. He loved her, but if she finally caved and gave into her feelings, he wouldn't survive. And the only thing more terrifying than spending her life apart from him was him dying in her arms and fully well knowing she could have prevented it.

What he was asking, his request of her was so simple but still impossible to fulfill. She couldn’t tell him and the lies were eating her up inside. Sometimes she herself wasn't even sure why she had done all the things she had. And maybe if she had never gotten pregnant with his beautiful child, she might bring herself to tell him. But she knew, just too well, that she couldn’t risk Anne’s safety.

Only telling him of the prophecy wouldn't do either. He would know, instantly, that there was more that there had to be more. Why else would she still flee his presence and reject any offer he made. No, if she told him only of Nostradamus’ vision he would demand more and she might not be able to stop herself. He could do this to her. To anyone else she might seem like a strong and defiant Queen, even to her friends and husband. But he was her soft spot, her breaking point. With the right words and his begging eyes she simply couldn’t trust herself around him.

Cathrine had been right all these months ago, he was relentless in all things but especially in his love for her. He wouldn't simply be satisfied with her weak answers, he would demand the full truth, she simply couldn’t give him.

No, she decided, as much as she would like to tell him those two words, she couldn’t.

The string, which had kept the stems of the flowers together, had loosened and some of of them had fallen out. One red flower in particular had fallen over the edge of the table and she had only noticed it when Anne let out a joyous giggle. As she peaked over the crib, her daughter was happily waving the flower at her, smiling widely.

She couldn't help herself, despite the tears that still clouded her eyes she felt her lips curve into a small smile at the heart warming sight before her. Reaching out her arms, which had stopped shaking, she took the baby into her arms, settling her against her chest.

„It’s a beautiful flower, isn’t it Anne.“ she sniffled but kept smiling at her daughter. „They are maman’s favorites, you know.“

It was true, the wild and ungroomed flowers at the edges of the gardens had always been her favorites. They were all different and beautiful in there own way. Unlike the planted ones in the flower beds, which were colourful but boring and all the same.

Even as children, she had always collected them into bundles and would sometimes git one to Francis, when she would feel particularly happy.

„You remembered.“ she whispered the words and it filled her heart with a weird proudness as she looked at the gorgeous bouquet.

He must have gone out in the early morning hours and picked them himself, since they were still fresh with touches of frost still visible on some petals. She would hold onto them for as long as possible, dreading the moment they would inevitably fade away.

„I love you.“ she wasn't sure what had overcome her.

She wasn't even certain if the words had been meant for her daughter, the flowers or him. But the sudden urge had taken her and she hadn't been able to stop herself.

A sudden noise behind her, made her turn on the spot, eliciting a small shriek from her lips. It was gone now, but she was certain that she had heard it, had heard something. The panic filled her instantly and her heart was racing beneath her ribs.

Her heart nearly stopped when her eyes fell on the hidden door once again. Of course, how had she been so stupid? She had known of the door and had been beyond foolish enough not to check and barrow it since returning to her old chambers.

Anne, still in her arms, she hurried towards the seemingly solid wall and pushed against the part, where she knew the door to be. It swung open too easily for her taste and the black corridors behind greeted her. There was no one there but when she held her breath, she could make out the faint sounds of foot steps, echoing off the stone walls.

The tears were in her eyes again. Had it been Clarissa or someone else? Had he been her, had he watched her? How much had he heard? The terror filled her chest when she remembered the words she had spoken just a minute ago. He hadn't been supposed to hear them. Of course they had been meant for him, but he could never know.

-

His heart was drumming inside his chest, as he cowered behind the small door. He let his back rest against the rough wooden surface of the hidden door as he heard the women talk on the other side. This had been close, too close. One second sooner and she would have caught him inside her rooms with her servants as witnesses. He shuddered at the thought.

He was about to leave, trace his steps back through the passage ways, when he heard her speak again. She had command the servants to leave her, but it wasn't the content of her words than rather the way she had spoken them. Her voice, it sounded harsh all the sudden and he could clearly hear the tension in her words. He wasn't exactly sure what hat compelled him, but he stayed, his ear pressed against the door and he held his breath.

It was hard to make out anything as the wood muffled every noise and all he could hear was the baby letting out content sighs. He should just leave, give her the privacy she deserved but he couldn’t. His feet were frozen in place and instead he pushed the door open just an inch to see inside the room. Thankfully she had her back towards him as she studied the flowers and the letter, he had left on the table.

She didn't move for a while until he could hear the baby make small noises again and she turned towards the crib. More minutes past and he impatiently held his breath, waiting for her to do something, as she seemed incapable of moving herself.

Just when he was about to give up hope she finally moved again, tearing the letter open with her fingers. More silence followed and he could sense an uneasy feeling settle in his gut.

He wasn't sure how he had expected her to react or what reaction he might have secretly wished for. He was only certain that it hadn't been this.

She was crying. He could hear her muffled sobs even at this distance and her tears threatened to drown his heart all over again. He didn't understand.

She still missed him in some way that had been obvious but it simply didn't make any sense. Why wouldn't she just tell him, what in god’s name was stopping her? What could be so terrible it would force tears into her eyes whenever she saw him?

He was nearly thankful when another noise from the crib interrupted her and she the sobs silenced. It was a giggle, the baby was squealing and he was too far away to see what had caused the sudden outburst.

He could see her reaching into the child’s bed and picking her up in her arm, while the other held one of the flowers that must have fallen from the bouquet. The baby was trying to get hold of the colourful plant, wiggling her tiny arms.

„It’s a beautiful flower, isn't it Anne. They are your maman’s favorites, you know.“ she dangled the flower over the baby’s face.

He was stunned for a moment. He knew that he hadn't been supposed to hear her words, but the warmed his cold heart all the same. She liked the flowers, she was happy for their presence. He could feel a comforting fire welling in his chest.

„You remembered.“ it was only a whisper and barely audible behind the door.

But he froze in place. Who had she spoken to? She couldn’t possibly be talking to him, could she? Her back was still facing him and she seemed so lost in her thoughts. Was she talking to the child? But that wouldn't make any sense, would it?

„I love you.“

Before he could stop it, the small gasp had already escaped his throat.

His heart was pounding heavily in his chest and he couldn’t move. Suddenly it was too much and he could feel his fingers shaking at his sides.

He couldn’t believe that she had just truly said those three words. He had craved to hear them leave her mouth for so long but now he felt a weird emptiness taking hold of his body. His breath was stuck in his throat and he could feel his mouth going dry.

It was only when he could see her turn and stare at the door in shock that he moved. The panic of her discovering him here, took over and his feet finally moved. He hurried away as fast as his body and the narrow corridors would allow it. He could hear his own footsteps sounding of the stone walls and the noise drowned out everything else.

Chapter Text

„Your Majesty.“ one of the council man cleared his voice.

„Hmm“ his head was pounding and his thoughts were completely lost as he stared aimlessly out the window.

There had been too much politics, too many council meetings and endless negotiations as of late. He would spend most of his waking hours in these stuffy chambers with the other Lords, discussing war strategies or ways to ease the tensions between the opposing groups in the country.

Whole villages were burning, children kidnapped and countless murders committed. France was in turmoil. Religious differences had brought them to the edge of civil war. Every day, the number of new reported uprisings, small or large, would climb higher and higher. Neighbors were turning on neighbors, ratting each other out, killing in the name of the same god.

The current food shortages, though it was still summer, had only worsened the present situation. The most frustrating part was that they had sufficient grain to feed the whole country, but some Lords were refusing to deliver their owed shares. More than a third of the highest Lords in the country had turned on their King, as they refused to accept a bastard, they still deemed illegitimate. And although he was the one wearing the heavy crown, blessed by the catholic church and god himself, the power lay elsewhere. A King without his nobles’ respect was a mere pupped on a lonely string.

They had more money, more resources and their own powerful alliances. Especially the southern lords, who owned most of the crown’s farm lands had refused to pledge their loyalty. They had offered to deliver on his demands under one condition, his abdication. And some days he actually considered it. Wouldn't it make his life that much easier?

But then he would remind himself why he had done all this in the first place. She needed him, she needed her husband to be the King, not some sad and powerless bastard. Scotland needed France, and as far as politics were concerned she and her country were the same. If he should withdraw his claim, they would loose everything. His title, his name, it would all be gone. All the reasons she had pressed for this marriage in the first place. He would need to fight, for her and for the child’s sake.

Whenever he thought of their daughter, it stung. No matter what he said or how hard he tried to reason with her, she wouldn't listen. He knew that he was busy, that he had been more King then husband these past weeks, but he did it for her.

Apparently she thought differently. It had been only about a week when she had moved out of their joined royal chambers, back to her old rooms. And she had taken the baby with her.

His jaw clenched, the frustration hot under his skin. In the beginning he had thought that it had simply been her recovering from the birth that had isolated her. But clearly things hadn't changed. Before the child’s arrival he had prayed that the baby would bring them closer again. All he wanted was to see that sweet smile on her lips and the glowing dark eyes he missed so dearly. But the person he mourned for so desperately was gone, far out of his reach.

He was supposed to protect them, a caring husband and a loving father. But how could he? He had held Anne all of five times, and never for too long. Once she had regained enough strength she had closeted herself off in her room, the child always safely hidden in her arms. The worst part was that he couldn’t even explain it to himself, what he had done wrong. What could be so bad, as for her too keep the child from him? He wanted to love his daughter, see her beautiful eyes and hear her incoherent babbles.

Sometimes it felt almost as if she didn't trust him, was afraid of letting him get near the baby. He silently promised himself to try and talk to her today, after this excruciating meeting was finished. She couldn’t run and hide from him forever.

„Your Majesty“ he finally turned and was greeted with several anxious faces.

Apparently he had stood their in silence and lost in thought for multiple minutes. Some were staring at him, while others had averted their gazes to the floor, a slight flush in their faces.

„Yes, I … I am sorry, you were saying?“ he tried to keep his tone casual and push all the painful thoughts away as far as possible for now.

„Your Majesty, we were just discussing the grain deliveries. Lord Barcleau still refuses to answer to your Majesty’s commands.“ this was not news, only a painful reminder of his repeated failures as King.

„I am aware. Thank you, Lord Dornalie. Is there anything else we can do, any other way? We need to replenish or stocks for winter or …“ the rest of his words didn't quite make it.

„Your Majesty, there is one offer from the Spanish. Lord Maquise has proposed to sell wheat and corn but …“ the youngest in their midst spoke.

„But we can’t afford to pay.“ Bash finished the thought for him.

„Yes,“ the other man nodded his head, his eyes still not daring to meet the King’s, afraid to anger him. „We have too few resources as it is. I know your Majesty has refused to consider this option, but I ask you to hear me out.“

Bash nodded, encouraging the Lord to continue with a small gesture of his hand. He was certain he wouldn't like what the young man was about to say, but what other choice did he have?

„The biggest contributor to the Crown under your late father was his wife’s family. But the Medici refuse to send any more coin until … until the Lady Cathrine is freed.“ the man swallowed.

„No“ he didn't even need to think before the word escaped his lips.

Whatever the price, he couldn’t release Cathrine. It simply wasn't an option.

„I know your Majesty refuses to pardon her crimes.“ an older Lord was speaking now „However, we are fortunate enough to be hosting another member of the Medici family. The young Dauphin, your Lord brother, he could help.“ the man had taken a step towards him, offering his hands in an empty gesture.

„Francis“ he groaned.

Of course his brother could help, if he so desired. But asking for his favor simply felt wrong.

„Thank you, my Lords. You will excuse me.“ he decided he had spent enough time in these chambers today, the stuffy air slowly threatened to suffocate him.

Once he could her the doors fall close behind him, he allowed himself to breathe again. Taking in huge gasps of air and slowly exhaling, he finally felt his tense muscles relax under his tired skin.

Thankfully the corridors were empty this time of day, as most of the court’s inhabitants we're enjoying the sunny hours outdoors, basking in the last golden rays of summer. He hurried along his usual path and quickly enough found himself alone in his rooms.

The crown was carefully placed on it’s usual velvet cushion and he ran his hands though his flat hair. He let himself fall into his armed chair next to the empty hearth and his heavy head collapsed onto the pillowy rest.

After his page had set his usual glass of wine and the opened bottle on the table before him, he let the heavy thoughts, which had bothered him all day, run free. His mouth eagerly swallowed the first glass of the deep red liquid and he could barely sense the alcohol running down his throat.

It was all one big, inescapable mess without a beacon of hope. He wasn't quite sure what he actually brought about all the disastrous events that had unfolded but that hardly mattered now. He couldn’t change what had happened, none of them could.

A tired sigh and another too long sip of wine.

His councilors were right, Francis could help, he might be the only person able to actually. The defiant Lords respected him, if only because he would be more fit to wear the crown in their eyes. Their late father had made him the heir and King but truly it was still his younger brother that held all the respect and power.

He had been away for so long, more than half a year, until he had so suddenly returned weeks ago. Bash still wasn't sure why Francis had come back at all. From what he had heard from Paris, his younger brother had been happy there, or as happy as on might have expected him to be, considering the circumstances. Since his return the tides had changed and the tensions at court had grown.

And to this moment he couldn’t tell what Francis wanted. As far as he could tell, the Dauphin spent his days talking and enjoying himself. Though he was never seen too often, as he spent most of his time in his own chambers, and his conversations with royals barely ever touched politics. Clearly, he wasn't interested in overthrowing his brother or attempt anything else of that sort. And still, the few times they had passed one another in the corridors, without uttering a word to the other, Francis hadn't truly seemed happy or content. The slight creases on his forehead and the noticeable shadows under his eyes, had given it away.

He didn't want to admit it, as if speaking it out loud would make it more real.

Francis was here because of her. He had to be.

He didn't envy his brother’s current situation but still the jealousy had remained in his gut since his return. The day the carriage had stopped before the castle and the trumpets had announced his brothers arrival, he had seen it. Francis’ blond head had appeared from inside the carriage and he had bowed before his King. During the whole process never once taking his eyes off his brother’s wife. And the still honest part of his heart couldn’t blame him.

What was strange was the fact that as far as he knew and his informants had told him, the two had barely spoken or even seen one another. Apparently the had argued just before her labour had set in. And since Anne’s birth he had only glimpsed them together once. Mary, the baby and Kenna had been out on the south lawn when his brother had approached them but the conversation had been short as she had quickly retreated and he Francis returned to the castle.

He had tried to inquire with Kenna, as she had always been so open and helpful when it came to things between him and Mary. But she had refused him, her words had been kind but clear. He was not to worry, his wife and the child were well and Mary apparently needed some distance and rest. There wasn't much he could have countered to that.

Of course, he was the King, however unfit for the role, and if he so desired he could command her to see him. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Seeing her sad eyes was already burden enough and forcing her into his presence against her will surely wouldn't help to bring them closer in any way.

No, he would need to be careful and delicate when approaching the matter. Right now, she clearly didn't want to speak to him and he would have to respect that, even if it pained him beyond words to see the one person he cared most for, so utterly miserable.

What hurt most, was the fact that he knew that it wasn't truly him she wanted. She still loved Francis, that much was apparent. Still after all this time and all that had happened between the three of them, she still wanted him more

He buried his heavy head in his hands, rubbing his temples. The one thing she desired more than anything, was the only thing he couldn’t give her.

He wasn't Francis, and he would never be his brother. It was a simple as that. And yes, he was jealous. No matter how hard he tried and after all the things he had done for her, she would never return his love. He drowned his third glass of wine, it wasn't fair.

In a way all of this, every single one of her actions, had been for Francis. She had only ever wanted to marry him, to save his younger brother. Because her love for him was truly that strong. Oh what he wouldn't give for that love.

Sometimes it felt like torture. He was bound to her by marriage, and she to him, before god and country. No matter their personal feelings, they were forced to spend this life together, and it would be miserable for each in their own way. He would need to learn to live with the fact that her heart truly belong to another and she would have to keep pretending to care for the wrong husband.

Francis’ presence only complicated it further. He was the living and breathing proof of their marital problems and grievances. As long as he remained at court, none of them would ever forget.

Why couldn’t he simply leave, another sip of wine.

What could he possibly gain? Was he just here to take his wife from him?

Maybe he wanted his crown, maybe that was the reason after all?

„Fuck“ the glass shattered against the wall, the little specs of broken glass filling the air.

He needed to go. He would make him leave, he was the King after all.

The anger was pulsing hot through his veins, cloaking his mind and thoughts with the alcohol heavy in his bloodstream.

He balled his hands into vengeful fists, his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. But the pain stayed absent. He was already too numb and lost in his frustration to register any other feelings or sensations.

„Bring my brother here, now!“ the guards nearly jumped at the angry tone in his voice as he bellowed the command at them.

-

„You wanted to see me, your Majesty.“ the smirk on his brothers lips only further fueled his rage.

„I want you leave.“ the wine slightly slurred his words.

„Then why call for me.“ Francis let out a humorless laugh.

He could feel his fists curling again, as stared at his brother. In that moment, he undoubtedly looked as much a King as a common beggar. He hadn't cried, yet, but his eyes were still bloodshot from the alcohol. He should feel embarrassed, standing here before his ever well groomed and charming younger brother. But at this point, he simply didn't care. The frustration and anger that had been building up inside, demanded to be released.

„You need to leave court.“ he did his best to keep himself from screaming at his brother.

„No“ there was still a defiant smile curling on Francis’ lips.

Did he think this was funny, a laughing matter?

„I don’t think you understand, I demand you to leave.“ the spite in his voice was growing with each word.

„What will you do? Incarcerate me, lock me up like my mother?“ he could sense the sting of danger hiding behind his brothers words.

„I will force you to leave, so I’ll ask you one last time. Go.“ he had taken a step towards Francis, feeling the rage build like a crushing pressure in his chest.

„If you release Cathrine.“

„No, I will do no such thing. She is a traitor to the crown.“ he could feel his hands shaking as he rose one to gesture towards his brother.

„Then I will stay until you do so.“ Francis let himself sink into one of the chairs „You don’t mind do you?“ he gestured towards the chair.

Bash simply glared at him. How did he have the audacity to behave this way? He was in the presence of his King, he should show more respect.

„As your King, I command you to go!“ he spat out the words but Francis simply laughed in response.

„Yes, yes you are dear brother. But never forget, it’s the people, who give the King his power, that truly matter.“ the blue in his eyes was flashing dangerously.

„Is this a threat?“ his voice was now all but a low rumble at the back of his throat.

Deep down he recognized that drowning countless glasses of wine had now put him at a considerable disadvantage. His thoughts were simply to slow while Francis was coming at him with full speed.

„I don’t want to cause you any trouble, brother. But if you seek to cause it for me then yes, consider this a threat.“ his tone was noticeably harder now, with the last trace of laughter finally gone.

The threat wasn't an empty one, he deduced that much by his brothers stern eyes. He would be powerless if Francis did decide to act, if he stood by his threats.

There was only one card left and it was close to his heart. Nevertheless he had no other choice, he would play it.

„She will never be yours.“ the words came easier than he had expected them to.

The reaction in Francis’ face was instant. It was subtle but he recognized the signs in a blink of an eye. The way his brother’s lips pressed ever so slightly into a thin line and his whole demeanor seemed to crumble within seconds.

„She is my wife. It was her choice and she chose me, Francis.“ it was a low punch, but the guilt failed to appear.

Now it were Francis’ hands that were balling into tense fists and his turn to glare at his brother. He had hurt him, but in that moment his head was filled with wine and Bash couldn't care less.

Out of nowhere a chuckle escaped his dry throat as he looked at his brother. Francis’ eyes were cold and sharp as daggers, but all the same he could detect the hints of tears in the icy blue. He had just remembered that she hadn't told him yet.

„You still don’t know“ his laughter sounded bitter and hollow.

Francis’ reaction was filled with disgust as he faced his clearly drunk and vengeful brother.

„You will excuse me.“ he turned sharply, his blond curls following suit.

Bash laughter still filled the room long after the doors had fallen closed behind Francis. This was what they had come to. When once there had been a bond of friendship and brotherhood binding them together, hurt and spite was all that was left to them now.

Chapter Text

„We can’t keep this up much longer.“ he was leaning against her bedroom wall.

She was pretty certain she knew what he was talking about but she kept silent all the same. Anne was in the other room with the nurse and she found her fingers oddly empty and unoccupied. She just stood there, next to the tall window, patiently waiting for him to continue.

„He’s gaining leverage and we cannot let him take Cathrine.“ his voice was dripping with frustration and he half turned to face her.

She swallowed and slowly nodded. The Medici woman could not be allowed to go free, she knew that. Cathrine new of Bash’s actions, his sins against his father and country. If word got out, it would topple everything and France could not be allowed to bee seen as weak right now.

„She knows too much, Mary.“ he forced her attention back to him.

She flinched ever so slightly at the mention of her name. It was all so absurd, how they talked like strangers, incapable of a true conversation. They had been best friends once, what had happened? Of course she knew the answer but didn't want to admit it.

He was looking at her so intently as if he expect her to say something. Her mind was reeling but she truly didn't know what he wanted to hear.

„What do we do?“ she already feared his answer.

„I need your help, my darling.“ he took three steps towards her.

She swallowed hard, yet the forming lump in her throat remained. Whatever he was about to ask of her, she was sure she wouldn't like it. In her heart she knew where this conversation was going.

„You have to talk to him.“ he simply got straight to it and his directness baffled her.

Instinctively, she took a step back, feeling her shoulders collide with the wall behind her.

„No“ was all she could bring herself to answer.

Her heart was thumping in her chest and she could sense the usual anxiety set in once more.

„Listen to me. I know you don't want to do this, but you must, Mary. We can’t let him win.“ she could see him advert his eyes as to hide the pain behind the cool green.

„No“ she couldn’t do it.

„Mary, believe me, I like this no more than you. But you and I both know that you're the real reason he’s still here.“ he wrang his hands and his mouth formed a thin line „You’re the only person he will listen too. If you tell him to go, he will.“

She knew he was right. Of course he was, no matter how she felt towards him at this time and how much she detested his pitiful pleas for her to talk to him, he was no stupid man. She didn't know if the two brothers had spoken at all since Francis’ return and if they had, she could only guess to the content of their conversation. But surely, even without talking to his brother, Bash must have by now realized that Francis had made her his goal.

He had never been to open and public in his advances, as he had always seemed to have planned them out carefully. The encounter on the south lawn, the roses in her room, even when he had cried at her bedside, he knew just too well which strings he had to pull to make her heart anxious. He was a smart man, cunning even, a quality which she had much admired and which now came back to haunt her. At some point, if she wasn't careful and prepared for another attack, he would get her. And once he would open her heart, her mouth would follow, telling of truths better kept hidden.

But Bash knew, he had been so angry when she had moved from their chambers, so desperate for her to return. And the pain in his eyes, when he had realized that Francis was still the one in her heart, had cracked hers. Besides her ladies, Cathrine and Nostradamus of course, he was the one person that knew the truth, or as much of it as she had allowed herself to share. Bash was aware of the prophecy and it’s catastrophic implications. He understood just too well why Mary had done what she had and why. But that also meant that he knew what Francis didn’t. Why she had left him all so suddenly.

Back then, she had taken comfort in having a friend in Bash, a confident she could share her burdens with. But the situation was different now, the once blooming friendship was all but a sad weathered rose. When they had once been so close, the distance between them now felt insurmountable. The thought of him didn't evoke happiness or joy, only frustration and anger.

In truth, she was scared he might use his knowledge against her. In some ways he knew too much. Many things, Francis didn't and she couldn’t let him. He could black mail her, the thought made her stomach turn. If he was the one to tell Francis, it would make it all just that much worse.

The lump in her throat was still growing, refusing to let air pass, and her head felt dizzier by the minute. Bash was still staring at her with hollow eyes, as she hadn't responded.

„There is no other way, you know it is true. Mary you need to …“ the furrow between his eyes deepened.

„Please don't do this. Please, don't make me, Bash.“ she sounded nothing like the Queen, who’s title she carried and the tears on her cheeks weren't regal ones.

She could see him swallow and look away, out of the window next to her, for a moment. He seemed to ponder her response, as he chose his next words carefully. Nevertheless the impact hit her hard and his stoic facade crumbled, revealing the cold bitterness hiding behind.

„You know I love you, Mary. You are my wedded wife, the mother of my child, my queen and friend but …“ he bit his tongue „ … but I will make you. I know you just wanted to save him, and me. But this has grown into so much more than that. You still love him, you still lust after him. I heard his name sometime when you were still asleep next to me. I helped you, I heard your pleas and became your accomplice. You owe this to me, Mary. You still love him and that love will destroy us all. You have to tell him to leave. He needs to realize that you are my wife and maybe you would do good to remind yourself of that too.I am sorry to say so, but frankly I don't care any longer if you need him here or not. He can’t stay, it’s that simple. You are my wife, but also a Queen and a ruler can’t let personal feelings get in the way of their country’s needs!“ his eyes had grown large and with ever word his voice had grown.

She was paralyzed, the shock had frozen her in place. The cold wall behind her was the only reason she was still up and standing before her husband.

„If you don't do this, I … I will make you. Don’t test me, Mary, not in this.“ with that he turned his back to her and rushed out of the room.

She was stunned. The anger and frustration in his voice scared her. ‚I will make you‘ those were words she had never expected to come out his of all mouths. Hadn’t he promised to always put her first, and his crown second? Hadn't he vowed to her to not be Francis, who would excel as King but maybe not as husband? But that was the problem, he wasn't Francis and he knew it just as well as she did. Yes, Francis would have thought of France every step along the way and maybe their marriage would have suffered. But she would have understood, she was a ruler herself after all. And maybe it wold have never come this far with the revolting lords and uprisings if the other brother had claimed the throne.

She shook her head vigorously, burying it in her shaking hands. These thoughts were no use, no use at all. She would have to figure out what to do next and make the choice she had been dreading for so long.

-

Normally it would have only taken her a few minutes to reach his quarters, but she was in no hurry to enter those dreads rooms once more. She took the longest rout she could think of, passing by the great hall and even the kitchens, earning suspicious look from any bypasses she encountered on her way. She need to buy herself more time, to prepare whatever she would tell him.

Her fingers were nervously fighting in her lap, as she stopped in the middle of a corridor. She had tried to mentally walk through the conversations, reciting the words she planned to tell him. But the small part at the back of her brain that she alway tried to keep quiet, the part that always spoke in honest words, was practically yelling at her. It was no use, preparing prewritten words to persuade him, when he would notice the falseness after her first syllable. No, maybe even before that, he had a way of knowing the state of mind, however hard she tried to conceal it. She knew, because it was the same for her. The shade of his eyes, the angle of his lips or how he would furrow his brows in a certain way, she was familiar with every tiny motion.

She cursed herself under her breath, closing her eyes for one moment. She would need to keep a cool head this time, she couldn’t let him win this fight, too much weight on her victory.

Her plan, in theory, was a simple one. She would ask him too leave and then wait for his response. That was the easy part, saying the words and praying he would capitulate. After all he was only the Dauphin, and she his rightful Queen, she outranked him. But deep down she already knew, he wouldn't listen, wouldn't care for her commands. He was far to driven to give in that easily. So if he did resist her words she would say it again, but with more conviction. She would tell him that she truly didn't love him any longer and would force him to believe the lie. He wouldn't like it and neither would she, but it was the only way.

Whatever happened and however he would try to persuade her of the opposite, she would stay strong and not waver for a second. She wouldn't tell him anything, there was no reason to say any of it and even if, it wouldn't help either of them. She would use the moment of surprise, she hadn't warned him of her visit and he surely wasn't expecting it, to her advantage. The less he spoke, and his voice tucked at her heart, the better.

She collected herself one more time, making sure that her skirts were in order and her hair all neatly in her updo before she compelled herself to resume walking.

The familiar wooden doors of the Dauphin’s quarters were up before her too fast. The two guards positioned outside, lifted their heads at the sound of her heels on the stone floor. The surprise was written blatantly all over the faces before one could even muster the composure to address her.

„Your Majesty, we apologize … we weren't expecting anyone …“ he bowed before her, his voice crooked.

„It’s quite alright. I thought I might pay the Dauphin a visit, is he in?“ she purposely avoided his name and kept her tone light.

„Yes, your Majesty. But he … he is not to be disturbed. He is resting from his ride earlier today.“ the man sounded guilty and his eyes were glued to the floor.

A bad feeling settled in her gut. Was this a code for something different? Was he in company, of another woman? No, he wouldn't would he? But truthfully she wasn't so sure anymore. After all, she couldn’t seriously expect him to stay alone for ever. Still it hurt, that he did it so blatantly under her nose.

She forced herself to swallow before she continued.

„That is quite alright, he wont mind me disturbing him.“ she did her best to fake a convincing smile but wasn't too sure of her success, as the two men exchanged uncertain looks.

„But the Dauphin said …“ now it was the other man that stuttered.

„I know what the Dauphin said. But as your Queen I command you to let my enter.“ she could hear the growl in her voice, as her patience snapped.

The guards exchanged on last look before they reluctantly opened the doors and she could feel her heart still for a split second.

The room looked just like she had remembered it. The hearth next to the window, the overflowing bookshelf and the wide bed at the other side. She swallowed, this was the bed in which they had been so happy. But she forced herself too look away. It was only than that, with a jump of her heart, she realized that he must be alone.

She hadn't noticed him at first as his figure was over at the desk, unmoving. He had his head buried in his hands, his eyes blocked from her view by his tangled curls. And with a small pang in her chest she realized that he must have fallen asleep composing a letter. The desk and surrounding carpet were covered in crunched up pieces of paper and there was a respectable bouquet of peonies set on another smaller table.

She could already feel her determination swindle and her heart was hammering in her ears. Where they meant for her? Was that why the guards had been so reluctant, because he had planned on delivering another letter to her room? She swallowed again, the lump thick in her throat again. It touched her more than she could have ever thought possible.

It was only when the doors fell close behind her, that she realized that she had moved forward a few steps. But the unexpected noise made her freeze instantly and her eyes grew wide as she anticipated his reaction.

They were alone.

At first nothing happened, as he seemed still asleep over at the desk, but after a few more seconds of silence she could make out small movements. Slowly, he lifted his head and carefully stretched his arms before turning towards the source of the disturbance.

„I told you not to …“ he started in an unnerved tone but instantly stopped when his eyes caught her figure.

There they were again. Two pairs of eyes, one blue and one brown, both filled with indescribable love and sorrow, staring right at one another. Neither moved, both seemingly to shocked or scared to act. She could feel the pressure behind his still sleepy eyes growing, as he bore them into hers.

This was not the time to be scared or frighten, she reminded herself. If she wanted this to work, she had to act, now. It seemed impossible, but somehow she worked up the courage to speak.

„I …“ she had to clear her throat to make her words heard „I came here to tell you something.“

Momentarily, she could see the hope flash in his eyes, and regretted her poor choice of words instantly. While she contemplated how to explain her reasons for coming here, he rose from his chair and took a few steps towards her. He moved slowly, as if to make sure not to scare her away, like he had on the south lawn. She could see the sleep quickly fading from his body as he moved.

„I wanted to ask you to … to leave.“ as his confusion registered with her she quickly added „… court. I want you to leave court.“ her voice didn't sound as strong and determined as she would have wanted it to, but at this point she was simply thankful to get the words out at all.

He seemed just as stunned as she had been when Bash had told her. For a heartbeat he just stared at her with those same sad eyes again, but he broke the gaze and ran his hand through his unruly hair, only adding to the messiness of his blond tangles.

„No“ his voice was barely more than a whisper, but still the rejection rang as loud as a scream in her ears.

She bit her lip, she had known that this would happen. And in some ways she was glad that he wouldn't leave here, leave her, this easily. His words, promising to fight for her this time, truly hadn't been in vain.

„As your Queen, I command you to.“ it was low, of her to pull her superior rank on him, but she was running out of options.

„Really, is that all we are now, a Queen and her subject?“ his voice was seething with bitterness.

It instantly mad her regret her harsh words. Seeing the pain in his face and hearing the despair in his voice was too much. This was not aligning with her thought out plans at all, and all the lies made her feel sick to her stomach.

„I didn’t mean to … Francis, please!“ it was pathetic how fast she had retorted to begging.

„I am sure you did, or at least your husband does. No, I wont leave here.“ his voice was growing harder and more insistent.

„This has northing to do with Bash!“ her defensive tone gave away the lie in a heartbeat.

„Oh, please Mary. Don’t be so foolish, he already asked me. And I refused, I guess this is why you’re here now, doing his bidding.“ his words were intended to hurt her, just like she had hurt him.

„That’s not true. I just don't want you here anymore, is all.“ he was holding onto the longer end and she could already feel herself drowning.

„Please, don't lie to me. I know you too well.“ his tone changed to a kinder one and he took another step towards her. „And you know what, I will make you a deal. If you really want me to leave, I will. But only if you tell me the truth, about everything.“ the barely noticeable smirk on his lips was challenging her.

„Like I told you before. I don’t lov …“ her voice was weak and he wouldn't let her finish.

„No, Mary. We both know it isn't true. And after all that has happened and what Kenna told me, you can’t seriously think I would believe this nonsense any longer.“ and he too, sounded broken.

Her heart was beating too fast in her chest and the airflow to her lungs was slim, causing her brain to stall. But the tears fell anyways. Her silent plea to him, begging him not to force her.

But his reaction took her by surprise. Instead of yelling at her or demanding an answer he simply closed the distance between them and embraced her. His touch instantly wiped her mind clean and all she could concentrate on was his hands on her back and his hair in her face. It was intoxicating, her body relished the sensation of feeling him so close and his steadily beating heart was all she could hear. It felt so right, and truly this was what she had wanted for all this time.

His hand was gently rubbing small circles on her back and he pulled her even closer, leaving virtually no air between them. Maybe it was defeat or maybe it was victory, she wasn't sure, but she simply didn't care as she let her head sink into his neck, breathing him in, and her hands grasped the fabric on his back. His breath was hot and heavy in her ear and she was sure he could smell the salty tears on her wet cheeks as her skin pressed against his. His neck and hair muffled her sobs and he whispered „Shhh“ in her ear to calm her trembling figure.

„You know I love you, and no matter how horrible your reasons are, I can forgive you. You know, I could never truly resent you, right? I just need to hear you say it out loud.“ his voice was low and the kindness in his words pulled at her tattered heart.

His one hand was now gently coming through the loose part of her hair, while the other remained on the small of her back. Another louder sob escaped her.

She felt so save and helpless at the same time, the contradictory air of the situation only adding to her confusion. In response she only tightened her grip on his doublet.

He must have realized that she was in no condition too speak so he continued for her.

„We are blessed. What we have, it is a gift from the gods. I tried, Mary, I truly did, but I can’t forget you, not as long as we still breath the same air. And no matter what happens, the way I feel for you will never go away. But seeing you like this, so helpless and depressed, it hurts me. I can’t simply stand by and watch you crumble more with every day. I had hoped that when you opened your eyes when all hope seemed lost that things would get better and that maybe I could leave, knowing you're happy. But you aren't and you can lie to me all you want, it wouldn't matter. I love you and I will not give up on what we head.“ he whispered the words, only for her ears to hear.

And he must have started to cry as well, she noticed. Thick drops were landing on her forehead, as he rested his cheek on top of her head. Thats how they remained for several minutes, neither wanting nor capable of speaking.

This was what magic must feel like, she thought. The way two people could morph into one, two hearts beating in sync as their touches melted into one another.

But he pulled away, reluctantly letting go of her body. His hands were on her shoulders as he held her at arm’s length. His head was lowered slightly, allowing him to deeply gaze into her still reddened eyes. The blue was clear as crystals or fresh spring water, and the warmth his gaze encompassed enchanted her.

„I love you“ he brought her closer again, pressing a soft but lingering kiss on her forehead.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the unexpected sensation, as the fire shot through her nerves. She could feel her body craving the warmth of his embrace and the tiny hairs on her arms rose.

It was lost, she knew it was hopeless. He had won and she had allowed him to, even welcomed it. The defeat in that moment felt sweeter than victory ever could, if it meant him holding her the way he did.

She opened her eyes, returning his gaze.

„I love you.“ the sight of his eyes lighting up with infinite joy, was everything she had ever truly needed.

Chapter Text

26.

„I love you.“ suddenly his heart was whole again and all the hurt and heartbreak forgotten in an instant.

This time, the tears clouding his eyes were not out of sadness but joy. Nothing had ever sounded sweeter to his ears than the three magical words she had finally said out loud. Of course she had said them before, many time back when the sun had still been brighter in the sky and they had shared the same bed most nights. But this meant so much more. It was the irrefutable proof he had chased after for so long, the confession that had finally set his heart free.

And just when he had thought it was impossible for their love to grow any stronger, it had. His chest was practically bursting with it as the warmth filled his whole body. And the smile, now playing so blatantly on his lips, had never been so true.

The impact wasn't lost on her either. Another sob escaped her pouted lips, but her beaming eyes were compensation enough. And he could feel it as well, how her body was suddenly relieved of all tension and she melted into him, nestling her sweet head into his chest. Her scent was intoxicating, as he inhaled it, with his nose so closely pressed to her hair.

Being back in this room, with her in his arms, felt like home to him and he had been absent for far too long. As they stood there, she had balanced most of her weight on him and when he truly feared she might fall over, he moved his one hand lower, swooping her up into his arms. She felt lighter and her bones were more prominent through her thin skin then they had used to be. It made him feel a small pang of sadness, knowing how physically weak she still was. He made sure he had her securely propped against his chest before moving to the large couch next to the fire. All the while neither uttered a word, not daring to destroy the bliss the current moment entailed.

He carefully put her down and she sank against the backrest, gifting him a weak smile. Her hand was still in his and he took the place next to her, almost terrified of loosing her once more.

Her smile was all he could focus on and he already dreaded the question he would have to ask her. But there was no way around this. He had come too far and this had been his goal all along. He needed to know, needed to hear what she had kept from him for all this time.

„Mary,“ he swallowed as he could already feel the tight feeling in his chest return „I need to know.“ he gave her hand another squeeze.

She averted her eyes for a moment, gazing out the window, and when they returned to him, the tears running down her cheeks when she blinked, hurt more than he had expected.

„Please don’t, Francis. I don’t want to ruin this.“ she barely got the words out as the tears clogged her voice.

She lightly shook her head and the fear was now blatant in her eyes. He could feel his stomach drop. Everything had seemed so perfect just a minute ago. He didn't want to go back to this, he couldn’t. Seeing the silent hurt behind her big round eyes and knowing that there was so much unsaid between them, he couldn’t let it happen again. There were so many lies and coveted looks separating them and he wasn't having it any longer. It all needed to stop. No matter how hard, the only way to escape this silent hell was the truth. Both of them needed to come to terms with that.

Deep inside his heart he was sure that she must know how he was feeling. She had probably realized, the damage her lies had caused, long ago. And whatever the reason for her to still stay silent, he wouldn't like hearing it. But he had to, it was the only way.

He could feel the fear that he had glimpsed in her eyes, now trickling in as well. His heart was accelerating in his chest, the anticipation building with every passing beat. This wasn't any easier for him, but sometimes one had to be brave and brace the facing storm to reach the save land.

He took another shaky breath before he broke the heavy silence.

„Just say it. You must know that there is no way around it. At some point I will find out, and I’d rather it be you, who told me. Please, Mary, all the lies, they are killing us both.“ he was begging now, but he didn't care.

He could see her gnaw her lip as she pondered his pleas.

„If I tell you, will you … will you go?“ she sounded terrified with the thought of it.

He weight his options. Truly, he wanted to stay here with her, never leave her sight again. But he knew that that was another life. She wasn't his wife and staying wouldn't make that fact any less true. Slowly, he nodded his head. He had come this far and she was obviously ready to tell him something. He better not waste this chance.

„Yes, if you tell me the truth, I will go.“ the sickening feeling filled his stomach again at the thought of letting her go.

„You need to listen, Francis. What I’ll tell you, you won’t like it. You will probably not understand and accept it in some way. I need you too keep an open mind and listen to the very end. This is my condition.“ she looked up to him, a sudden spark of strength back in her eyes.

With every word, his stomach seemed to drop even further. What could be so terrible? He couldn’t understand the panic in her eyes or why she wouldn't trust his fair judgement. But questioning it now was no use. He needed to get it over with. So for the second time, he nodded his head in a promise to hear her out.

She took another deep breath, clutching onto his hand even tighter before she finally continued.

„Before I tell you anything. Please know that this was all because I loved you so greatly, I still do.“ her smile at him was filled with pain „ You are the one person I couldn’t bare living without … and …“ a small sob and bit her lip again „ and that is why we can never … never live our lives together.“

„But that makes …“ the confusion was blatant on his face.

„No, I need to finish, please. You remember your mother’s distain of our union, yes?“ he nodded in response.

„Well, I used to despise her for keeping us apart, but she truly only meant the best by it. Nostradamus had a vision Francis, a vision of your … your death.“ the last word was barely audible and her eyes swam in tears.

His death, but what was that supposed to mean? He was completely dumbfounded by what she had just told him. How was he supposed to react to this? Thankfully he didn't have to in this moment, as she continued on.

„He predicted that our union, I, would be the cause of your death. I would be left alone and childless, carrying the blame and Francis .. you … you would be gone.“ her mouth fell open as in a silent scream but no sound escaped and she pressed her hands to cover her mouth.

He was baffled. Of all the things he had expected to hear, of all the things he had mentally prepared himself for, this certainly hadn't been one of them. This was ludicrous, a vision, a silly pitiful excuse.

„But Mary, he is a charlatan. The visions, they aren't real. Why would you …“ he couldn’t continue.

His mind was virtually spinning, the shock freezing his entire system. This couldn’t be it, could it? What she had been hiding from him for all this time? He stood and stumbled back a step, trying desperately not to fall over in the process.

„He predicted Aylee’s death. He said she would never return home and that one of my ladies would die.“ the tears had already spilled onto her cheeks, forming a steady stream across her reddened skin.

„I don’t believe it.“ he shook his head vehemently, letting go of her hand.

She looked at him with such despair and fear in her eyes, begging for him to understand. But he couldn’t take it any longer, he looked away and got up from the couch, nervously pacing before the windows.

„No, Mary. I refuse to believe you destroyed everything for a stupid prophecy!“ he practically spat the words out.

He was wringing his hands and she flinched at his harsh tone. The anger was flaring in his body, taking hold of his mind.

„I couldn’t risk you life. Can’t you see, Francis? I would rather die than live without you. I couldn’t be the one responsible, it would feel as if I was the one killing you.“ she was protectively clutching one of the decorative pillows in her lap.

She sounded nothing liker her normal self, her voice too high and filled with panic. And there the fear was again. He had never seen her so small before him than in this moment but there was not an ounce of pity left in his bones. In that moment he didn't see the person he loved, but the person that had taken his love away.

„You had no right!“ he was practically screaming now but he didn't care, he had to release his pent up anger somehow.

She only managed to sob in response.

„How could you do this, keep this from me? You should have told me, asked me!“ his hands were shaking as he worked them through his hair in manic motions.

The air suddenly seemed to be pressing down on them, the smell of destruction filling the room.

„Don’t you see? It would have killed you!“ now her voice was growing louder as well and she too rose from her place on the couch.

„I don’t care, have you thought of that?“ he could sense bits of spit flying from his mouth.

„But I do!“ her lips were forming a thin line, her eyes glimmering at him.

„It is my life. You don't get to decide if my life is worth it. It was my choice and you took that choice away from me.“ his jaw clenched and for some inexplicable reason the tears were in the corners of his eyes once more.

„You would have made the wrong choice!“ he still couldn’t bare to look at her.

„And you think, this was the right choice? God, look at us Mary. We are both miserable. This is where your choice has gotten us!“ the first tear was bearing hot on his cheek and he could feel the veins on his forehead bulging against his skin.

She flinched once more, and took one step back, like a frightened animal in retreat before its attacker.

„I am sorry“ she muffled another sob with her hand.

„You took everything from us, and for what, superstition?“ her pitiful face only fueled his rage further.

„I am so sorry, Francis.“ this time it was barely a whisper.

He didn't know what to do. The whole situation felt so surreal. What had she done? They could have been happy, if it hadn't been for this damned seer. What would compel the man to tell Mary such things? Had it been his mother’s doing all along?

„There is nothing we can do now, what is done, is done. You can’t image how sorry I am, Francis. But we can’t change anything now.“ this time her voice truly was filled with regret.

„So, this is it. You expect me to just leave … after what you just told me?“ she couldn’t seriously expect him to go now.

„If you stay, you’ll only make things worse. Please, Francis, you promised“ her eyes were begging him to.

„No, no … this is madness. I won’t go, you can’t make me. We have wasted enough time, I won’t let you go again.“ he took two measured steps towards her.

„But it isn’t your choice. I am married, I am not yours to take anymore.“ there was defiance in the way her arms rose to her hips.

Something seemed to have sparked a fire behind her eyes, for now she was outright glaring at him. Her small fists were balled, ready to attack.

„I don’t care. They can all go hell for as much as I am concerned. Bash, my Mother, your chi …“ he stopped himself but it was already to late.

For a second he seriously thought she might jump him at the mention of her chid. The daggers in her eyes where sharper than ever before and he could practically feel the anger radiating of her slim frame. He hadn't meant for it to sound so condescending, in truth the child probably played the most innocent role in all of this. But still the fact remained that the baby was a constant reminder.

„No, Francis, there're things even you can’t change. I love you, I truly do, with all of my heart. But maybe that simply isn't enough anymore. I can’t afford to loose my marriage or be suspected of infidelity. I am not just Mary, the girl you fell in love with last summer. I am the Queen of Scotland, a whole country of people depends on me.“ she grew taller before him and for the first time since his arrival he truly glimpsed the Queen in her.

„I am sorry to say so, but where was Scotland when you chose to marry a bastard?“ now he had intended for it to sound condescending.

„A legitimized bastard, by the Vatican.“ she protectively crossed her arms before her chest.

„But a bastard nonetheless. Don’t you see, Mary. He’s barely holding onto the crown with his small finger, a mere pupped hanging still by a single thin thread. If he falls, you and Scotland will fall with him. But no, don’t tell me now that this is all because you’re a monarch, a Queen, who let’s others rule in her stead.“

„You wouldn’t dare!“ it was a low growl in her throat and the look she gave him, could kill.

„Well, someone needs to tell you.“ he was in too deep now, all he could see and feel were anger and hot rage.

„Is this a threat? Are you threatening your Queen, overthrowing my lawfully wedded husband, your King and brother?“ she was screaming at him again, her own anger dark in her eyes.

„If it will help you come to your senses.“ the smirk on his lips was cruel, but he didn't care any longer.

This was all her fault, not his, She was the one that had maneuvered them into this mess. She deserved to hear the truth from someone.

He would probably regret most of his carelessly chosen words in the morning, but right now all he wanted, was to make his anger heard. The frustration was too big too simply swallow down. They could have had everything but she had torn it all down carelessly.

She hadn't trusted him. Maybe that was what had hurt him most. She had made the, probably most important, decision of their lives without even thinking of telling him. She had played god and had taken it upon herself to choose over his life and supposed death.

He had promised he would forgive her anything, never in his wildest dreams imagining this. Maybe he could forgive her with time, but certainly not now.

„I want you to leave.“ her eyes pointed to the door, behind which the guards and servants were surely trying to listen too their more than heated dispute. By tomorrow the whole court would be talking about what had conspired in this room. The roomers would fly faster than any words of truth.

Deep down, knowing that him staying here wouldn't do either of them any good, he obeyed.

„If your Majesty wishes.“ he bowed deeper than necessary and his words where dripping with mock.

He was oblivious to the tears still glistening on his cheeks when he rushed out of his own rooms.

Chapter Text

„The Lady Kenna, your Highness.“ his page carefully poked his head through the door.

His brain was pulsing with a throbbing pain and it took him several moments to recover his senses.

„Ahh yes, please send her in.“ his voice was still laced with sleep, as he rose his head.

He buried his face in his hands, before letting his head fall back against the chair once more. If he weren't so exhausted he would have found Kenna’s sudden visit more suspicious, but in this moment he was to numb to care. But she had picked a particularly bad time, as he felt in no way capable of listening to any of her accusations.

There was nothing he would rather do than close his heavy eyes again, but instead he pushed himself out of the chair followed by a heavy grown. He must look pathetic, with the dark skin framing his eyes, his messy hair and the evident stubble on his cheeks. Hastily he ran his fingers through the tangled strands of his curls in order to look somewhat representable. He wasn't very confident in his success.

Just as he let his hands fall back down to rest on the back of the chair she appeared in the door as his page ushered her in. For a moment both of them just stood there staring at the other. Her dark hair was falling around her face in simple braids at the front and she momentarily balled her hands as if she herself wasn't sure why she was here either. Her lips were tightly pressed together, forming a thin line and the look in her eyes was indecipherable.

„Francis … I mean your Highness.“ she wavered before hastily curtsying before him.

It somewhat baffled him. She was normally so outspoken and confident in her ways, this didn't seem to fit. Her unsureness made her look younger somehow, like an insecure little girl.

„I think Francis will do.“ he tried to smile but his muscles didn't obey, so he simply resumed to search her face for any clues.

Evidently, his unwavering stare made her uncomfortable as she averted her gaze and when she met his eyes again, her fingers were intertwined before her body.

„Francis, the King has sent me.“ she looked more nervous by the second „I am to deliver a request from his majesty.“

He could feel the muscles in his neck stiffening at the mention of his brother, causing his jaw to tighten in response. With the events of last week’s encounter still vivid before his eyes, he didn't take too kindly to the mention of Bash. Whatever he wanted now, it wouldn't be good, he was sure of that. The mere fact that he had sent Kenna to do his bidding instead only proved his point.

„I don’t see why I should listen to anything he has to say.“ his words were cold and Kenna’s eyes seemed to flinch in response.

„Please Francis, just give me a chance to explain.“ she took three carefully measured steps toward him.

„If he wants me to listen, he can come and tell me himself. Or is our King too much a coward to face his own brother?“ he laughed but his eyes stayed hard.

„You know that he doesn’t hate you, right?“ the sudden kindness in her voice took him by surprise.

„But maybe I do.“ he determinedly crossed his arms before his chest as to underline the weight of his words.

„You don’t mean that.“ she moved closer still and he could sense some of her usual fire returning. „Do you mind?“ she gestured towards an empty stool and he only nodded slightly in response.

„Then just tell me and get it over with.“ he groaned.

He might as well give in and hear her out. Maybe this way he could rid himself of her unwelcome company quicker then by refusing an open ear. Seeing as she was now perched on the stool with her dress sprawling around her and well below him, he too let himself sink back into his chair.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe his brother did actually have a sensible request for him and was simply to busy to deliver it himself. He entertained that idea for a moment before deciding it wasn't very likely. He sighted, trying to mentally prepare himself for whatever Kenna had to say.

„The King he asks you … he bids you to find a suitable lady. His Majesty thinks that you are of age and ready to wed. He will grant you and your family additional land and properties in thanks for accepting his wish. He wants me to emphasize that it would truly mean a lot to him.“ her words sounded weirdly hollow and her eyes couldn’t quite meet his.

„You can’t be serious.“ he actually let out a laugh.

He was perplexed by the absurdity of her words. They had sounded like a rehearsed speech and her eyes didn't seem to agree with her mouth in any way, telling a completely different story. Bash could’t seriously think he would ever agree to this. He wanted to force him into a marriage, force some willing girl on him, just to rid himself of the threats the blood flowing in his veins still carried.

He was a Valois prince after all, the Dauphin and the throne was his by right. Truly he didn't yearn for his brother crown but this was simply appalling. He had shown nothing but understanding towards his brother and this was how he would be repaid? By forcing him out of court, his home, once again.

No, no he wouldn't give in so simply. He might have lost this fight, but the war was long from over and he had no intent of waving the white flag early. Sure, his last conversation, if one could even call it that as it had practically consisted of both of them screaming at the other, hadn't gone well. But he wouldn't loose his spirit after one set back.

„I am afraid, the King does not consider this a laughing matter.“ Kenna interrupted his train of thought for just a moment.

„He knew.“ all the sudden the anger was hot in his veins and he practically saw red.

He had known all along, the all had, each and ever one of them. Bash had been aware of the prophecy and probably only encouraged Mary’s fears to further his own gain. The thought sickened him to his stomach. They had all betrayed him, ever single one of his so called friends.

„I am sorry, I don't understand?“ Kenna sounded scared as he glared at her mercilessly.

„You all knew. She told everyone, didn't she? Everyone but me that is.“ the pain of their betrayal threatened to drown him.

„Francis, I am truly sorry … but what …“ she stared at him, outright confusion mirroring in her heavy eyes.

„The prophecy, you knew didn't you? Bash knew …“ he spat the words out and in fear that the tears in his eyes might show, he turned his back to her.

„She told you.“ Kenna suddenly sounded weirdly small. „Francis, please … you know why she couldn’t tell you … you know why she didn’t say …“ he felt her hand on his shoulder and she gently forced him to turn again.

„I understand that she was scared, even if I don't agree with her logic. But you … you aren't just her friends, you were mine as well. It was your responsibility to help her realize her faults, but know you only encouraged this madness. You should have told me, because that it was friends do, what brothers do.“ he did his best to contain his anger, but his voice was still louder than he had intended „I hope you’re all happy now. She obviously isn’t, and that is all but my fault.“ he concluded and sensed her stepping away.

The tear were stinging in his eyes and even though her face was blurred he could clearly recognize the traces of sadness and guilt in her features.

„It wasn't my decision. She is my Queen and I must obey her. Truly, I wish things would have played out differently but we can’t change that now. You have to talk to your brother, I can’t answer for his actions.“ her words made sense but the bitter feeling of betrayal still lingered.

It was just too easy for her, wasn't it? Whenever she wanted to she could claim that her responsibilities to her Queen saved her from any consequences. He groaned audibly and the tight feeling in his chest was encouraged by anger this time. He needed to find some way to release his pent up emotions.

„That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to live with the consequences.“ it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t help himself.

Right now, Bash and his wife were not standing before him, Kenna was. So for better of for worse, she was the only person he could direct his anger at. It had been cowardly of them to send one of Mary’s Ladies instead of having the courage to face him in person. No, if this is how they hoped to earn his forgiveness, he wouldn't give it to them. He didn't deserve this and he surely wouldn't easily agree to their terms.

„No, I don’t. But you cannot change that you do.“ she sounded more confident now. Most likely his unfounded accusations had fired her up as we’ll. „Francis, for god’s sake, she is married. She is married to the King, they have a child. I don't care how unjust it is or how much you truly still love her, it is done. You have to accept that some fates are irreversible. Do you think you’re helping her, staying and parading yourself around court?“ she glared back at him.

He was taken aback by the sudden promptness of her words. Did they truly think he would just accept his fate, simply give up. How was he supposed to reacted, when all his closest friends had acted behind his back and now he was the one who had to live with the consequences.

His fingers curled into fists at his sides and his throat went dry.

„I’m not parading myself around court.“ danger now glimmered in his eyes „This is my home. They have taken everything from me and freeing my mother is the least I can do.“

„It might not be fair, but marrying and moving from court is the right thing to do. Francis, I don’t know what she told you but there is nothing here for you any longer.“ her stance stayed hard and now it was her that was crossing her arms determinately before her chest.

„You know that I’ve always wanted to name my daughter Anne? She even took that from me. So don’t tell me to accept her actions because I don’t. I don’t owe them anything, not her, not my brother and certainly not you.“ he could feel the pain welling up inside with heightened intensity.

She stared at him for a moment as if she hadn't grasped the meaning behind his words but recovered quickly. She took another step towards him and he thought he could feel her breath as her fire filled eyes challenged him.

„Just leave it be.“ she stared at him for another moment before abruptly turning.

When the door closed behind her and he was left with nothing but silence. His own racing heart the only sound echoing heavily in his ears.

„Damn it!“ he exhaled and his fist met the hard wooden surface of the table.

He was breathing heavily and he could feel his head spinning. He didn't know how much of what Kenna had told him had been her own thoughts. There was no way to tell what the royal couple had instructed her to say. She was loyal to Mary, her Queen, he knew that.

After all she might be right. Leaving here would do all of them good, but he couldn’t, not after what Mary had told him. It might not be right or fair to her but he would have to do this for his own sake. She had put him through so much pain and misery it was only just for her to feel his hurt now.

But maybe his brothers command was a blessing in disguise. He might be able to use it against them. This time he could for the first time turn the tables against them, feeding them their own poison.

„The Lady Amélie, please.“ his page quickly nodded in response.

-

„Your Highness“ she had her usual bright smile plastered on her lips and he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter at the sight.

„Thank you for coming at such short notice.“ he was quickly at her side and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand in greeting. „Come, please sit.“ he gestured towards his couch.

„How are you? I know of your … your dispute with the Queen.“ she kept her choice of words vague and polite.

„In truth, it still hurts but I guess that is to be expected. She threw our life away for a prophecy and …“ he stopped himself before he got pulled down that all too familiar hole once more. He had called her here for a different reason all together. „I have a proposition for you and I need your help.“

She looked at him expectancy with a shimmer of confusion hiding behind her clear green eyes. His gaze lingered on her sweetly curved face for a moment longer as if to assure himself that what he was about to do, truly was the right thing. He could only hope that she would go along with his plan as it was the only resource he had left.

„You are not yet engaged, is that right?“ his words were careful and he could see her ever so slightly tilt her head in response.

„Yes, as of now I am not betrothed to anyone. But you know that my father wishes to negotiate a deal with the Italians.“ her eyes and words alike were filled with uncertainty.

„What if I could offer a even more lucrative match?“ he tried to keep his words as vague as possible to assert the situation and her stance on the matter.

„Yes, I guess my father would consider it. Do you have someone specific in mind?“ her eyes were seemingly growing bigger by the second.

„I do, but it is not an assured marriage. I can’t promise that, but you would be doing me a great favor.“ he paused once more before finally spilling the words „The King asks me to find a wife, Amélie.“

„Oh“ the word escaped her lips and her eyes grew bigger still as the realization dawned on her.

She stared at him for what felt like hours, when actually only seconds had passed, before she spoke again.

„I see. So you want to make her jealous?“ she didn't seem hurt by the fact that he intended to use her, which he chose to take as a good sign.

„Yes, granted it is an arrangement for mere appearances. I don’t expect anything of you and we would only need to be seen in public together and sit next to each other at banquets. I know it’s not fair to play pretend when you do really need to find a husband but …“ before he could finish she interrupted him.

„But being the fiancee to the Dauphin of France would be seen as honorable, even if it’s just for a short while.“ she smiled and the weight on his chest lifted instantly „I am sure my father would be thrilled to hear about your most generous offer.“ she took his hands into hers and squeezed them gently, beaming at him.

„You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear it. I will make sure to announce our engagement to the King as quickly as possible then, fiancee.“ he leaned in an ghosted a kiss on her cheek.

She chuckles in response and her whole face was practically glowing. This had gone better than he had ever dreamed and judging by the beaming smile on her lips, she really was thrilled by the idea.

„I think we’re in luck. There is a feast two nights from now and from what I’ve heard the royal couple is attending.“ she had a cheeky smile on her lips and her eyes were glimmering with mischief. „We can match our attire, I have a golden gown that would go perfectly with your embellished doublet, the one made from Italian silk, and …“ she went on but he stopped listening and simply smiled at the sight of her excitement.

Maybe this truly was a promising plan. He had tried charming and friendly with Mary, which obviously didn’t seem to have had any effect at all. So hopefully jealousy would succeed were charm and courtship hadn’t. Normally he would have considered these kind of games beneath him, but there weren't many other options left to him. And in truth he didn't really feel guilty for doing it either. She had done exponentially worse things to him and after all she was the one with a child and married to the King.

Even if the worse should truly come to pass and his plan should fail, Amélie wasn't the worse partner he have wished for.

There was no love between them but maybe friendship could make the heart happier than love ever could.

Chapter Text

„Mary“ she heard someone clear their throat.

Still her eyes determinately remained set on the pair across the room. What a cruel joke, surely there had to be another explanation. They were so close, too close. Was this revenge, his way of hurting her back? After all she probably deserved it.

She swallowed, all the moisture gone from her throat. It was pathetic, hiding in the shadows while she couldn't take her eyes of the scene unraveling before her. Their faces were so close, mere inches away from a kiss and against her better judgement, she strained her eyes even more in response.

„Mary“ Kenna raised her voice, forcing her attention elsewhere,.

„Hmm“ she still wouldn’t quite turn all the way to face her lady.

„Mary, look at me.“ she tugged at Mary’s leave until she finally turned.

„What?“ she made sure to empathize her annoyance.

„You’re doing yourself no favors.“ Kenna’s patience audibly was running out „Just listen to me, will you?“

Reluctantly she followed Kenna a few steps to the side, as her lady pulled her close to one of the windows overlooking the unruly lake. Her chest was visibly heaving and she mangled her hands, seeking to keep her composure.

„You were staring, Mary.“ Kenna tried to reason with her.

„No, I wasn’t.“ she defiantly crossed her arms before her chest.

Of course she had been staring and there most likely was no point in denying it to her best friend, but her pride was stronger than her head in that moment. As a Queen, and a married one by that, it was far beneath her and highly inappropriate but she yearned for nothing more than to turn back around.

„Oh please, you know it just as well as I. Mary, you’re only making this harder for yourself.“ she felt Kenna’s hand covering hers.

„He’s doing this to punish me.“ she sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

„Maybe“ her heart jumped at Kenna’s reply as this was not what she had wanted to hear.

She couldn’t stand it any longer, she freed her hand from her friend’s grip and turned towards the hall once more. Just in time to hear the Lady Amélie let loose a resounding giggle at something undoubtedly amusing her fiancé must have said.

Her anger was brewing in her stomach and she could sense it slowly filling her head. She clenched her jaw, unconsciously biting her lip as she strained her ears to listen to their exchange.

„I love the way you blush every time I call you my fiancée.“ she could mentally picture Francis’ smirk going along with his cheeky remark.

Even at a distance she could see the girl’s cheeks turn bright red in response. In an attempt to hide her blushing face, she buried it in the crook of his arm. Every second her eyes stayed on them she could feel the renewed stabs to her heart. The resounding sweetness felt sickening to her. Every touch of his that didn't belong to her, every word and glance that was meant for another, they were all like small daggers in her heart. Whatever of it had been left standing after their fight last week was doomed to crumble to pieces now as well.

It was basically a miracle that she had lasted two whole days before her resolve had broken. She normally wouldn't see him around court much at all but since their engagement had been made public he and his dear fiancee seemed to be lurking behind every corner, ambushing her at every turn. For two days she had written it off as a mere joke or cruel comeback on his part, but the more time had passed the heavier the knots in her stomach had grown until she had no longer been able to bare it.

It was almost noon and she had spent the better part of the day watching them from the back of the usual crowds of chattering people at court. Kenna had been very helpful in her role as a human shield. Without her usual tall heels she was smaller then her lady and alway did her best to angle herself just the right way to avoid his looks. In response she had earned multiple unnerved stares on Kenna’s part, as the girl had grown more and more inpatient. Finally she had had enough and had barked at her Queen in a not so appropriate tone.

Now here they were again, playing the whole game anew, only this time Mary was in clear view and closer than she had ever dared to go. She could distinctly hear Kenna hissing behind her, compelling her to turn around but her ears refused to listen to any voice of reason.

Francis was now embracing Amélie in a very inappropriate tight hug and gently pushed a few of her blond strands out of her face. They truly looked the angelic couple, the whole court was flaying their mouths over. His hair was a befitting few shades darker and his blue eyes complimented her green ones perfectly. They were kissed by the sun and children of the golden gods, or at least that was what people gushed behind her back.

Francis especially looked different. Not so much his appearance - he still wore his hair combed back, a wisp of a beard and his usual black doublet - but the glow in his eyes had changed. She wasn’t sure if he was faking it and if he was, he was a bloody good liar, but he looked truly happy. Happier than she had seen him since his return. The time she had told him she loved him being the only faint exception, but granted that moment hadn't lasted very long before all the glow had turned to bitterness.

The inevitable question stuck in her mind, maybe the other girl really made him happier. She swallowed hard in a failed effort to fight back the tears. She shouldn't care, she was a married Queen, she shouldn't care. But she did and she saw no scenario in which she wouldn’t. She cursed herself, the prophecy and her failed attempts at reconciliation.

It was only when she felt Kenna’s hand grabbing her arm that she realized that she had moved closer to them, too close. Her friend yanked her arm back a little too roughly and when she instinctively turned with daggers flashing in her eyes, Kenna gave her a warning look.

„Don’t, Mary. Don’t do something you will regret come tomorrow.“ she spoke with conviction.

„Let go of me!“ the high pitch in her voice was a dead giveaway.

„No, you will thank me for this later.“ without loosing another word, Kenna pressed for the closest corridor, pulling Mary along with an iron grip.

A little short of breath from trying to keep up with her friend’s fast paced steps, Mary sank against one of the stone walls. All she wanted was to hide under her sheets and never face the outside world ever again. Her hands clasped over her face and she could sense Kenna standing very close with her arms crossed and head held high.

„Mary, I beg you. Don’t do this to yourself.“

„I tried, Kenna, I truly did but I can’t forget him. I can’t let him go. Oh god, what have I done?“ her hands fell from her face, revealing the tears and bloodshot eyes.

„You know why he is doing this.“

„He wants to hurt me back, as is his right. But I can’t do it … I …“

„And he’s looking for a way to move on.“ Kenna took her hand again.

„What?“ it was more a gasp than an actual articulated word.

„The are two things I have learned from the both of you. The first is that true love really does exist. Looking at all the harm you have both done to another it verges on a miracle that either of you would still be capable of such emotions, but evidently you are. And the second being, true love doesn't end well. The things you have done for the other, you were motivated by your deep compassion for the another but at the same time you tore the other down.“ she huffed in frustration before continuing. „I guess what I’m trying to say is, you need to accept that you love him but that you will never get the life you two have dreamed off.“

„You’re not helping.“ Mary hiccuped.

„This love can’t make you happy, it just destroys you more every day. You need to let go at some point or this will not end well, for any of us.“

„But how do I let him go, Kenna how?“

In response Kenna enveloped her in a bone crushing hug. She tried to concentrate on that, on the feeling of safety her friend offered her. It worked, her shaking hadn’t fully stopped but was now a weak tremble.

„There is more at stake now, that is how. There is a whole country standing behind you, people that need your help. If we loose France, Scotland falls to the protestants and …“ she suddenly stopped, not entirely sure how to continue.

„And what?“ Mary tried to edge her on.

„And I believe I know why, Mary.“ she wiped the still remaining tears stains of her Queen’s face before continuing.

„I don’t understand.“ she suddenly felt very helpless.

„By god Mary, I swear no one told me and no one else knows, most importantly to you, he doesn't know. I’m not even sure myself but the pieces fit. You don’t have to tell him, that is your choice, but he needs to go. Please consider what happens if anyone else finds out, it won’t end well.“ Kenna let out one shaky breath, tightly clutching her hand. „Mary, you need to let him go for your child’s sake.“

Mary stared at her friend with wide eyes, filled with incredulousness. She couldn't know, how had she found out? Her head suddenly felt incredible dizzy and the darkness seemed closer than ever.

Her step faltered and Kenna quickly caught her before she could fall to the floor. When she opened her lids again and was met with light instead of darkness, Kenna’s worry filled face was hovering above her.

„How?“ she could feel the tears returning.

„You named her Anne.“ Kenna offered her a weak smile.

Before either could add anything else, the distinct sound of clicking heels on the tiled floor was drawing closer. Instinctively Mary’s head shot up to assess the approacher and to her surprise it was the fair haired lady with the beautiful green eyes hurrying towards them.

Suddenly Kenna’s arms fell from her and her friend took a step towards the other lady, obvious danger flaming behind her dark eyes.

„What do you think you’re doing?“ Kenna hissed.

„Apologies, your Majesty, your Lady.“ the girl bowed. „May I offer you something?“ her eye flew towards Mary, who stumbled back in response.

„No you might not. The Queen does not wish to see you. And might I add, I find your behavior appealing, don’t you have any respect?“ Kenna had seldom sounded so cold and Mary found herself flinching at her tone.

Amélie stumbled back in response and her eyes widened. She was still very young, Mary realized as she inspected her appearance. But before a drop of pity reached her heart, she remembered the picture of her in Francis arms and how he had touched her so intimately. The jealousy and anger overwhelmed her instantly.

„Please, hear me out.“ the girl suddenly seemed very small before Kenna.

„I said, you should lea…“

„No, let her speak, Kenna.“ Mary shot her a warning look. „Tell me what you came here for, I don’t want to bare your presence any longer than I have to but I will not turn away subjects.“ she straightened her head, pulling every last fiber of the Queen inside her out.

„Thank you. Thank you, your Majesty. I … I just wanted to give you this.“ she reached out her arm and pressed a small object into Mary’s open palm. „It’s just, I know that this was meant for you. I found it in … I found it and you should have it. That is all.“ with that she quickly curtseyed and hastily made her way back to the great hall.

Mary was speechless for a moment as she looked after the girl until she disappeared around a corner. Only then did she look down to the object in her hand, it was a flower.

Or better, a sodden rattle carved like a wild flower with tiny bells tied to its petals.

„What is it?“ Kenna curious craned her neck to inspect the gift.

The way the wood had been worked and how the paint had been spread over the flower, it sparked memories deep inside her. Memories of him standing in a loose shirt on the highest floor of the west tower. The distinct smell of wood and metal filling his work room, the place that had once been hers, years ago. They had spent hours there, him working ferociously on another knife while she had sat on one of the stools, memorized by the things his hands could create.

When she turned the piece around, there it was, his sign. The one he had engraved in every dagger and sword, every bow or arrow he had made. The small but still distinctly visible ‚F‘ in the left corner.

„It’s from Francis.“ she smiled „I think it is meant for Anne.“

-

The winds were strong over the lake today as the waves danced wildly on the water. It truly was a shame that summer only ever lasted so short in these parts of the country. The green of the trees was already disappearing and the sun was mostly obstructed by heavy clouds, hastily chasing across the sky.

A sigh escaped her lips, her head leaning against the hard stone wall.

Ironically this was how all of there talks now went. Bash would make his way down to her chambers while she would face the window, rather loosing herself in the far off horizon than bare facing her husband’s accusing eyes. Anne stirred in her arms and Mary gently rocked her small body in response. The child had cried, no rather squealed the whole morning and only her mother’s arms had been able to calm her.

„Please sit, dear.“ Bash’s voice sounded strangely gentle for a change but the tense undertone remained nonetheless.

She hesitated, weighing her options but finally complied. She sank into the armed chair, glad to have support for Anne’s weight.

„I have set the date for the christening for the day after tomorrow.“ he came right out with it.

By now she had gotten used to the fact that their conversations got straight to the point, no need for niceties or misplaced gallantry. After all business was all that was left between them and that’s why he was here in the first place.

She only nodded in response, fidgeting with Anne’s knitted wrap cloth.

„Have you already selected a godparent?“ he came to rest on the chair opposite her.

She hadn't thought of that yet, of course Anne would need a godparent but she could not find it in her to think of a person right now. She knew who would be perfect and deserving of the honor but he wasn't even an option to consider.

„Maybe Kenna, she is a kind person and a good friend to the both of us.“ she desperately hoped he would agree.

„If we weren't in the situation we’re in right now, I would agree. Kenna is the perfect choice and I could not think of a better person to care for our daughter if we … if we are gone, but …“ he didn't meet her eyes, keeping his eyes on the flames facing in the hearth.

„But what?“ her voice grew more demanding and she dreaded his answer.

„Things are tense, Mary. The lords, my councilmen, they think we should chose someone everyone would accept. Kenna is a kind lady, but political irrelevant. They want me to show France that we have heard her troubles, that we are willing to make peace with our opposers. Our rule is so fragile, hanging by a single threat, and we cannot allow for a single misstep. We have to carefully plan ever move. We need to compromise.“ he suddenly sounded tired, hoo voice full of burden.

„Our daughter’s christening is not a political event. I will not give her to a stranger if we are not here anymore to take care of her.“ she could feel the anger stirring in the pit of stomach.

He sighted, finally raising his head and meeting her fiery eyes. He looked so beaten and hopeless all of the sudden.

„Don’t you think I know that. I would never entrust a stranger with our child’s life, I hope you know that.“ he turned his head towards the window, avoiding her eyes.

„Then what do you propose we do?“ she knew that none of this was really his fault but she simply could not hold the anger and frustration, welling in her voice, back any longer.

„I know this might be hard to hear but there is one person that we both know, who is of royal descent, respected by those that defy us and who will, despite our personal differences, care for our child.“ the painful look in his deep green eyes made the guild in her chest well up anew.

She swallowed hard, blinking away the tears, threatening to fall from her eyes. No, she could not allow it, she knew who he was alluding to, had known it in her heart all along but she could not let him do this.

„No, no Bash, I will not allow it!“ the determination was flat in her voice, she sounded nowhere as courages as she had hoped.

„Mary, I am sorry, but there is no other way.“ he stood and started pacing before her.

„Please, Bash.“ she hated begging and how desperate she sounded doing it, but what else could she do.

„I know that the two of you share a complicated history and that currently there is a lot standing between you, but I need this. France needs this and so does Scotland. I know you still …“ he paused, choosing his next words carefully „You still care for him, and I cannot change that but this is bigger than your broken heart. You are a Queen and we have two countries to think of.“ his words, allegations almost, struck her and she flinched at his harsh tone.

Anne moved again, her tiny fist reaching out of her snug bundle and Mary got side tracked for a moment as she admired her daughter’s perfect little face. She looked so sweet and the thought of Francis at least getting the chance to hold her, if only for a second, seemed incredibly tempting.

„He will not have to stay at court for too long, he’s engaged and the date has already been set. And no matter your personal sentiments, you know he will care for his niece. If I die, he will succeed me and as a girl she poses no threat to his claim.“ he gently massaged his temple.

He was probably right, Francis would never dare hurt a child to further his own cause. But the mention of his engagement and near wedding had soured the hope that had still filled her heart.

Kenna already seemed to have discovered the truth and heaven knows how she found out. If she had managed it, why shouldn’t Francis be able to piece it together, especially if he actually held his daughter in his hands. It was clearly just a matter of time. The thought induced a tight feeling of panic in her chest and her heart quickened its pace.

„No“ she couldn’t let this happen.

„Mary“ he groaned audibly. „For god’s sake, please just do this one thing. It is only a christening after all. Most likely we will not die prematurely and that scenario will never come to pass. It is only a contract on paper, and I need this.“ he sounded so utterly exhausted and disappointed by her renewed refusal.

She swallowed hard but the fear of what might be set in motion by this choice wouldn't fade.

Why couldn't something for once go he way? The whole word seemed set against her.

Maybe she was just ungrateful, after all she had everything one could wish for. It was pure selfishness to ask for more. She was a Queen in her own right, married to the most powerful man in France, had a beautiful healthy child. Her homes were castles and she had all the dresses and beauty money could buy. This was supposed to be perfection, but it felt so incredibly far from it. She was not free in her own choices. As a wife she was bound to one man for the rest of her life and as Queen she was responsible for a whole country of people.

Anne yawned in her arms and she instantly focused back on her daughter. This was all for her, she reminded herself. All the sacrifices and pain was so that her child would have a happier life. It would be worth it in the long run.

Groggy, Anne slowly opened her eyes and the sleep was still heavy in the blue as she gazed at her mother. Suddenly her crystal coloured eyes swam before her and the images mixed with a flood of memories. He was staring back at her and she couldn’t contain the tears that seemed to follow her everywhere nowadays.

„Mary, you will agree to this. This is my final decision.“ Bash rose his voice and she shrieked at the mention of her name.

„No, I will not. Bash, please.“ she glared back at him with stern eyes, even forgetting the tears in her despair.

„Damn it Mary.“ suddenly she heard his hand slam against a vase on one of the side tabled.

Porcelain pieces and the remainders of the bouquet of wild flowers Francis had gifted her over a week ago, flew freely across the room, filling the air. Anne had instantly taken to squealing at the top her lungs in response to the sudden outbreak.

„You love him, you confessed it to me. I could hold you for treason as you haven't given me an heir yet.“ he barked at her, bits of spit flying from the corners of his mouth.

She stumbled out of her seat in response, retreating towards the door. In that moment the fear of what he might do, what he might know, was stronger and she balked.

She simply had to get away, bring Anne to safety. Hurrying through the door she was completely ignorant to the guards’ incredulous stares - they had surely been listening - as she hurried away.

It was all a blur and the one thing she could be certain of was that she needed to see him. She didn't care for the late hour or of how inappropriate it must be. Her legs seemed to move at their own accord as they carried her through the corridors.

Every step would carry her closer, bring her to the one person she needed most.

Chapter Text

They were walking arm in arm, all eyes in court fixed on them. He detested all the attention but he had to remind himself that it was for a greater cause. They would stop every few meters to greet the countless congratulators of their engagement. Amélie would proudly show of the dainty golden ring gracing her finger and the women would instantly gush about the upcoming wedding.

He was glad, Amélie was good at talking and entertaining people, much better at theater then he himself. So all he had to do was smile and thank the noble lords and ladies. They had been at this for more than a day now, since their engagement had been announced by Amélie brother, and his dear friend, the day prior. It felt weird and wrong, and in a way he supposed it was. But a part of him was relieved, the fact that people had finally stopped bothering him about his future wife and all the countless offers he had received each day. It was a nice change for once, openly being able to talk to one of his best friends, who now the whole country believed to be his future wife.

And for some short seconds he had forgotten why he had done it in the first place. In those moments, actually marrying Amélie didn't seem like such a terrible idea. She was kind, good hearted and intelligent, maybe the closest friend he had. True, he didn't love her, or not in that way anyways, but he supposed that those things could be learned, acquired over time. And as the past year had shown him, love didn't always make one happy. On the opposite, it had made him miserable beyond imagining.

But his mind couldn’t forget Mary for long. Sooner or later, mostly sooner, her face or name would pop up in his thoughts again. Then all the dreams of marrying another would quickly fade away and give way to the lust that was still there in his heart. He wanted her, after all that had happened, after all that she had done, he still wanted her.

He knew that she had to be somewhere in the crowd, he had spied Kenna just a minute ago. Most probably she was hiding somewhere, it would be unlike her to publicly humiliate herself. Although that was the whole lesson behind this little game, wasn't it. But she was to proud to be caught in an awkward situation in front of the whole court.

Amélie had returned her full attention to him as there was no once in close proximity to them. She was practically glowing, it was evident how much she was enjoying herself.

„Dear, I think she is looking at us.“ she kept her smile innocent as not to alert anyone to the content of her words. „I saw her at the back with that lady of hers. You should say something funny.“

„Well if you don't find a suitable husband you can always get through as a detective.“ he gazed at her, an ever so faint smirk playing on his lips.

She instantly broke out into a fit of in-ignorable giggles and automatically heads started to turn their direction again. He was in awe of how seemingly easy this was for her, every smile, every word, they all sounded so sincere coming from her lips.

„I love the way you blush every time I call you my fiancee.“ he spoke just loud enough for people hear.

He was slowly getting the hang of this game. She half winked, half glared at him from below and her cheeks distinctly turned a brighter shade of pink. As if to hide her embarrassment, she moved closer and buried her face in his arm.

He also turned her way and bid his lip, as not to laugh at the absurdity of it. But this was fun, and definitely a way to take his mind off more serious matters.

When he allowed his eyes to glide over the crowed searching, he was almost shocked at how close Mary was. He had not seen her approach them but there she stood, only meters away. He quickly turned his gaze back to his fiancee, careful not to break the spell. If he would look her in the eyes it would only make this that much harder. But this was necessary, he had to do this, there was no other way.

„This is great and you’re a natural at this.“ he whispered as he puller her into a hug.

He could sense her smirk at him in response. He pushed some of the stray strands of her blond locks out of her face, satisfied with their performance.

When he looked back over his shoulder, Mary was gone and Kenna was nowhere to be seen either. He let loose a silent sigh, their plan was working after all.

„Francis, there is something I must do. Will you excuse me for a bit?“ Amélie gave him one of her sweetest smiles.

„Well now, is my fiancee already tiering of me?“ he teased and she only rolled her eyes in response.

„I will meet you in you chambers, yes?“ she squeezed his hand and made her way through the crowd.

After several more dull conversations with several noble men, he decided to retire to his chambers as well. He was good at politics and negotiating but he detested small talk and the vanity most people at court displayed so openly.

He was only two more corridors from his door when a figure glided from the shadows, positioning itself in the middle of the hallway. An unnerved sigh escaped him at the thought of having to deal with another courtier.

He had almost made up his mind to quickly rush by to his chamber when the person spoke and he froze in his tracks as he instantly recognized the voice.

„We need to talk.“ she had her hands on her hips and her chin was raised at him.

„I don’t think now is a good time, Kenna.“ he glared at her.

How dared she? Why was it that everyone seemed to think that he owed them something? They had all been the ones to betray him but apparently that counted for nothing. He pressed his lips together, inhaling deeply to gather his thoughts.

„I don’t care.“ she hissed under her breath. „I told you to leave her alone.“

„Well I have, haven’t I?“ he challenged her. „I haven’t talked to her, I haven't even seen her in a week. Also shouldn't you be happy, I found someone to marry, just like you suggested I do.“ his voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.

„Don’t you dare.“ the danger glimmered openly in her now pitch black eyes.

„Excuse me. You have all seemed to have forgotten who kept secrets from who for months, who wouldn't even tell me a word. So yes, I dare.“ he took a step towards her, just enough to propel her further.

„Francis, stop it. This is not some childish game or your broken pride. You know just as well as I do that the nobles are getting harder and harder to control. If they even suspect Mary of infidelity or anything of that sorts, it will cost her head. So don’t be so foolish, I know you care.“ she whispered the words angrily into his ear.

He glared at her for a moment, pondering what to retort with. She was right in a way, but if he left, Mary would be no saver.

„Don’t you think I know that?“

„Then leave. You have your charming fiancee, you two should find a castle and stay there, preferably far from here.“ the determination was ringing in her voice.

„No, I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. I am not leaving court and you can’t make me.“ it was him who was hissing at her now.

„No Francis, I can’t. But she is your Queen. She does not wish to see you anymore. I know you wont believe me but before you say anything wait. You are endangering her here, and I don't care how broken your heart is, you will do the right thing. Because you love her and you don't want to be the one responsible if anything happens.“ with that she simply turned and hurried the other direction.

He stood there perplexed for a minute. There was an uneasy heaviness settling in his stomach and his head felt weirdly numb. Was she right, was he a danger to Mary?

His head was spinning when he finally stumbled through the door.

„Do you …“ Amélie stopped in her tracks, the wine bottle already in her hand, when she caught his beaten expression. „What happened?“

„Kenna“ was all he could say.

She quickly placed the bottle on a nearby table before hurrying his way and embracing him in a hug.

When she let go again, he ran his hands through his hair, only now realizing how tired he truly was.

„I think a drink is in order.“ he groaned, falling onto the couch.

Amélie swiftly poured both of them a rather big glass of dark red wine. He had already finished half of his when she broke the silence.

„What did she say?“ her gentle smile really did have calming effect on his nerves, or maybe it was just the wine.

„Just the same thing all over again.“ he swallowed another sip and savored the feeling of warmth running through his body. „She wants me to leave. Apparently I am the one who poses a threat to our Queen.“ he nearly snorted at the irony of his own words.

„I see.“ Amélie kicked of her heels and stretched her legs. „But she can’t really force you, can she?“

„No I guess she can’t … but sometimes I wonder.“ he pursed his lips. „I wonder if I’m doing the right thing in staying here. Maybe it is wrong, maybe I should simply leave her alone.“

Amélie seemed to weigh his words and she emptied her first glass while pondering a response.

„Maybe …“ she poured them both another glass. „But you have to remember what you came back here for in the first place. If you leave now you will always wonder what could have been, question your decision. You owe this to yourself, to at least try.“

He slowly nodded and his head felt heavier by the minute as the wine trickled into his stomach. She was right, of course she was. He couldn’t give in now, he had already come too far for that.

„We should go for a walk tomorrow.“ she rested her legs on the couch and ever so slightly leaned into him.

„Hmm that sounds nice.“ he momentarily closed his eyes, letting his head fall back until it collided with the couch.

„She still takes walks every morning?“

„I believe so.“ he saw where she was going with this and it was a smart approach, he had to give her that.

„Good, then she will have to see us.“ Amélie sighed contently and nestled her head on his shoulder.

In response he put one arm around her and simply savored the feeling of having another person so close. She was so warm next to his body and her skin soft under his touch. He angled his head towards her, half resting it on top of hers. Her hair was now all he could see and her sweet scent filled his nose with every breath he took. She smelled good, nothing like Mary, but that didn't matter in that moment. It was an innocent sweetness, the detectable note of roses mixing with a hint of lavender and honey. So pure and innocent.

For a minute he entertained the thought of imagining it was Mary in his arms, with her body so closely pressed against his chest. Her weight was baring down on him and he relished the feeling. They had spent countless nights like this. All innocence as they had enjoyed each others company, simply knowing the other so close. Nothing could have torn them apart, they had been meant for one another and no one could have destroyed their little bubble of happiness.

He would tease her and her giggles would fill the room in response. They had had picnics before the fire in his room, resting on mountains of pillows and soft blankets. Inevitably he hadn't been able to resist the urge and had commenced to throw some of the grapes from his plate on her. She had screamed out in laughter and immediately revenged herself with an attack of her own.

It had always ended the same way though. They would topple over and finally collide on top one another. Heavy breathing and reddened faces on both parts. And it had been perfect, ever last moment. Her beauty never lost to his eyes, no matter how sweaty or disheveled her once neatly braided hair had become. Seeing her sweet face and those incredibly dark eyes, he had lost himself in countless time, was home to him. The one place in the world where he felt completely at ease, where he belonged with all his heart.

Her face, the skin felt so familiar to his fingers as he cupped her cheeks. There faces where mere inches away and he could feel her breaths tingle the hairs of his beard. Her pupils were dilated almost completely, intoxicating his head only further. He could feel the longing pull in his heart and how his mouth went dry with anticipation. His heart must be racing in his chest but all of that fell away, every sound was wiped from his ears and he could only focus on her lips. They were slightly parted and he admired their graceful shape. He wanted this, more than he had ever wanted anything. He needed to feel her again, taste her mouth to insure himself of the validity of his dreams.

His breaths came quicker now and the moment their lips touched he felt it like a rush through his whole system. His fingers tingled and his chest was filled with a warmth he so welcomed. The surge in his veins was intoxicating as they ever so gently moved against each other. He devoured each moment, never wanting to let go. Afraid of might happen if he did.

It bolted through him like a sharp sword, he remembered. Breathless he pulled away and his hands fell from her face. He should have known. How could he have been so stupid. When his vision returned and his eyes focused on her face, he could only feel regret. This was utterly wrong and it had been his fault entirely. Her eyes, they were supposed to be a deep shade of chocolate, but the pair that stared back at him now was bright green only interrupted by the golden flakes around the center.

His mind went numb and his brain was unable to decide what to do next. This had been a mistake, how had he allowed this to happen? The muscles in his neck and face tightened beneath his burning skin and the guilt shot through him. It had felt so right, so good and the anger that overcame him was solely directed to himself.

„Francis“ she sounded just as out of breath as he was. „I am so sorry, I should have never …“

He only gaped at her, the wine in his blood making it nearly impossible to form a coherent thought. To his dismay he could see the tears rising in her eyes and she clasp her hands over her slightly swollen lips. She looked absolutely mortified and it only depend his guilt. This was not her fault, he had been the one to initiate it.

But it must be as clear to her now as it was to him that in his head he hadn't kissed her. The first thick tear rolled down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away with a trembling hand.

„I am so sorry.“ she repeated. „This is my fault, it won’t … it won’t happen again.“ she stumbled of the couch nearly knocking over her wine glass in the process.

His head finally recovered enough and he was right behind her. Before she could reach the door he took hold of her hand and forced her to turn.

„No, I am the one to apologize. This is not your fault.“ he could hear the tremble in his voice. „Please don’t go, not now.“

She stared at him with what was a mixture of shock and incredulousness before her stance softened and she gave into his plea. The wine had evidently left its mark other as well as she had difficulties to keep herself upright.

He weighed his options. Of course he could call for a maid to take her back to her room but he was in no mood to speak to anyone, let alone allow another person in his rooms at this hour. So he decided to guide her towards his bed and in his own intoxicated state did his best to safely tug her under the covers.

The sleep took her within seconds and he could feel the heavy darkness settling in his own head. He allowed himself to fall against the pillow on his side of the bed and the exhaustion was swallowing him.

Dark eyes followed him into his dreams and the thought of her intoxicated his mind more than the wine ever could.

Chapter Text

Anne was tightly gripping onto the hem of her dress as they rushed through the corridors. Her head was spinning with contradictory thoughts. It was all going so catastrophically wrong. She only prayed to god that there was still some way to solve this mess, she hadn't the faintest idea how. All she was certain of in this moment, was that she needed him, she needed to see his face, hear his voice.

They had taken it too far, both of them. He was marrying another, just like she had pushed him to do for months. Now that it was finally happening she was miserable, the though seemed intolerable and she felt sick to her stomach, imagining him with someone else.

Was this what if had been like for him? Had he felt the jealousy boil in his stomach whenever he had seen her with his brother? The intolerable pain gripping his heart, knowing that she she would never be his. It had been hard on her and the past months had broken her down into pieces but this was different. All this time she had still harbored that spark of hope within her scarred heart, the impossible wish that there was still a chance.

Seeing him at the other girl’s side had broken that last shimmer of light within her, and more. She felt physically sick and her legs were slowly turning numb beneath her. Only the heat of Anne’s body, so closely pressed against her, kept her from shivering. Her heels echoed in the empty corridors, as most of the castles inhabitants had already taken to their rooms. She was torn between wanting to hurry and stop in her tracks, scared of what might await her behind his doors.

It was all blurred and suddenly she was standing before the all too familiar door. Her chest was heaving and her lungs were desperately trying to catch up with the pace her feet had set. Miraculously, Anne wasn't crying. In fact she didn't utter a single sound, she just stared at her mothers contorted face. Her eyes were two big round blue bulbs, shining in the corridor’s darkness. It was incredibly actually, how much she looked like him. Of course she had heard countless people gush over how much the little princess resembled her mother and it flattered her. She could only guess that people saw whatever they wanted to see. But to her the resemblance was irrefutable. Even her chestnut coloured locks were starting to take on a slightly lighter shade.

Of course it was pure madness to take the baby here. What was she thinking? In fact she wasn't thinking much at all. This was exactly what she had tried to prevent with every measure possible. He couldn’t see her, no matter how much they might both deserve it. He would know, he was not that stupid nor ignorant. Kenna had found out and Mary still had not the faintest idea how. She hadn't told her and she was positive that no one else knew, besides the seer, but surely he wouldn't dare defy his Queen’s commands.

Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast and the lump in her throat was growing with ever moment she spent her before his door, pondering what to do next. She knew that she had no choice, she was too far in now but the needed courage was missing. In an effort to assure herself in her decision she pressed Anne closer and placed a lingering kiss on the baby’s soft forehead.

„Maman will make things right again, my darling.“ she whispered and Anne stared at her with even bigger eyes in response.

In her daze she didn't even think it curious that the guards where not on their usual posts before his door. But when her gaze flickered sideways, she could see the one man asleep, slumped against the wall. It would have normally bothered her but in this moment she had to take this opportunity, the universe had granted her. For once something seemed to be working in her favor.

With another deep breath out she reached for the handle with one hand and the door swung open.

It was late in the evening and the sun had already vanished only leaving a dimmer rosy afterglow. The room was complete black and the only source of light was the faint flicker of the last flames in the hearth.

She carefully took three steps into the room, her heart hammering in her ears. Where was he?

When her eyes had accommodated to the dim light she could make out the shapes of his chairs and the desk, they were both empty. She turned, her eyes falling to his bed, which was held hidden by the drapery. Holding her breath she listened and the definitive sound of breathing reached her ears.

So he was here after all, a shiver went down her spine. She moved around the bed, not sure how to wake him. But to her absolute shock she found not one but two figures, laying intertwined under a bundle of blankets.

The sickness was spiraling in her stomach and she quickly covered her open mouth to swallow a gasp. This couldn’t be true. Her eyes must be betraying her. Why would he have another girl in his bed. She could feel the tears rising to her eyes and quickly blinked them away.

This was exactly what she been scared of. The one scenarios she had feared most. He wasn't alone, sharing his bed with another girl. A girl that wasn't her and the pain was too great to hide as she stared at the pair.

His hair was messily flying around his head, obstruction the view of his face. He was still deep asleep and the blanked covering the both of them had tangled between their feet. She was facing him with her head hustled against his chest, the colour of her hair melting with his. Her hand was pressed against him, and his arm was wound around her small waist.

They looked so innocent and it felt instinctive wrong to watch them this way. This was a moment between them, not meant for any onlookers. But she couldn't move, her feet were glued to the ground beneath her and her eyes were fixed on the way his hand caressed her back.

This had been them a year ago. He would hold her each night and in the mornings his arms around her was the first thing she would notice. It hurt all the more, knowing how much she herself craved his touch. The frustration and jealousy poisoned her mind, her thought twirling uncontrollably into darker territories. This was not helping her, it only deepened the pain, amplifying the fresh tears in her already broken heart

Anne must have noticed her mother’s shivering hands and stared to rebel against her tight grip. The child started twisting and kicking in her arms and she felt more helpless than ever before. When Anne wouldn't take it any longer, little groans came from her mouth. Mary felt the panic but there was nothing she could do. She was unable to move, the shock still rolling over her bodies in waves.

And then Anne let out a cry, her face grew red and her little blond brows contorted. Soon after another wail followed and Mary was completely helpless, condoned to watch as the two people in the bed started to stir beneath the covers.

She could make out Francis shifting his weight, his head turning against the pillow. His attempts to block out the sudden noise filling the room were fruitless and he finally turned, taking his arm off Amélie, who still seemed soundly asleep.

More seconds passed and Francis was now almost upright in his bed, squinting to find the source of the disturbance.

„Who is this?“ he sounded confused and his voice was still full of sleep.

She tried to open her mouth, but her words failed her. Her feet felt like two heavy led weights, restricting any movements. Anne was slowly turning red beneath her, the cries exhausting her small body and all she could do was stare at the bed.

He hastily threw off the covers and Amélie was now upright as well. Once he moved closer to where she was standing, she could make out the shock manifesting in his face when he realized who stood before him. His eyes grew wide, in a weird way mimicking Anne’s, and his mouth fell slightly open.

„Mary“ he too was at a loss of words. „What … what are you doing here?“

Bewilderment filled his eyes when they fell on the crying baby in her arms.

„What in god’s name do you think you’re doing here?“ it was not anger but his words where harsh none the less, making her flinch.

„I … I am sorry, I thought you would be … alone.“ her eyes wandered to a still sleepy Amélie.

The other girl stared at her in pure confusion and Mary could feel the jealousy return, only tightening the knot in her throat further.

„Did you sleep with her?“ it was pathetic how weak she sounded.

Somehow she had lost complete control over her words. The anger now welling in her chest mixed with the jealousy and together they blurred her mind. She clenched her jaw, almost glaring at him accusingly.

He stared back at her, his pupils dilated and filled with incredulousness and her heart dropped further. His silence only confirmed her worse suspicions, making it all the harder to fight off the tears.

„That is none of your business, I believe.“ his face hardened and the last bits of hope were slipping through her fingers.

„Why is she here Francis, why would you …“ the tears choked the rest of her words.

„I think I should leave.“ Amélie reached for one of Francis’ robes to cover her thin night gown and padded towards the door barefoot.

„No, stay. Amélie this is …“ but the other girl had already slipped though the door and silently pulled it close behind her.

They stood there for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than a minute, simply staring at the other. Both wore a similar expression of anger and incomprehension for the other’s actions.

„What are you doing here? It is the middle of the night and this is not your place.“ he sounded so much colder and abrasive than she had hoped. „And why would you bring the child here? Is this another way to mock me, to show me that Bash is the one you chose? I hope you know, I don't care anymore, I have moved on. I am happy now, happier than I have been in a long time.“

In response she only grabbed Anne more tightly, directing her gaze away from his face. Every word stung and she couldn’t hear any more of it.

„I am sorry, please …“ she tried to calm the fire in his eyes but he cut her off before she could finish.

„You should go.“ he took a step towards the door, his hand wanting to lead her out.

„I … I … I need to ask you something. That is why I came.“

He waited for her to continue, his lips pressed in a thin line.

„Ahm … Bash, my husband, he wants you to be Anne’s godfather.“ she swallowed. „I wanted to ask you to refuse.“

She could see his confusion mix with annoyance. It hurt to see him so abrasive. She wasn't sure what she had expected to find here, but a cold Francis hadn't been it. All of his usual warmth was missing whenever he addressed her and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was just an act or a genuine display of emotion.

„Why?“ he took half a step towards her, his pupils nearly backing out all of the blue.

„Why …“

„Why should I refuse.“ he clarified his question. „Give me one valid reason.“

„Please, can you just do this one thing for me?“ she immediately regretted her choice of words when she saw a flash of pure anger cross his face.

„Excuse me? I don’t think I owe you anything.“ she could hear it as well.

„Francis, I am sorry.“

„No, don’t Mary. I don't want to hear it. This is not how things work. You can’t just bulge in here. I don’t serve you anymore, in any way.“ his jaw was clenching at the effort to keep his words calm.

„I can’t do this any longer.“ tears blurred her vision. „Francis, I can’t do it, seeing you at court with … with …“

„… Amélie, my fiancee. She is lovely and kind Mary and she actually trusts me. You know that all of this was for you. I stayed because you wanted me to. I watched you for weeks at my brother’s side, for you. I tried to comfort you so that you would feel better. I watched you parade around a child that wasn't mine, for you. I did it all for you and don't think this was easy for me. But I’ve moved on. I’ve finally found someone, someone actually worth of my attention.“ his voice grew with each spoken word as he fired them at her defenseless demeanor and the tears dripped from her eyes one by one.

„Please, Francis.“ she begged him.

„Listen to yourself. You made your choice and for better or worse you have to live with the consequences now.“ he massaged his temples. „I regret a lot of things. I wanted this, I wanted you … even when you threw me away, destroyed every single thing I valued in life. You can’t do this now, I wont let you.“ he was almost screaming at her.

Anne had halted her respective wailing for the most part but when Francis had raised his voice her face contorted once more. She looked up to Mary but her mother was too deeply buried in her own pain.

„You should go, you should have never brought the child here.“ his anger had simmered down slightly but the resentment ringing in his voice when he had spoken of Anne gave her chills. „The child has no place in this. And don't think I will take pity on her part.“ he was about to motion towards the door again but she stopped him.

„How can you seriously believe that?“ her lips twitched and the sentiment was filled with bitterness.

„How can I believe what?“ he snapped. „Mary, truly I’ve had enough of these childish games. Either you tell me, or you don’t and leave me be.“

She gently caressed the top of Annes head and the baby finally stilled its wails.

„Francis … she, she’s the reason I couldn’t tell you.“ he only stared at her with annoyance, apparently not understanding her meaning whatsoever.

„I couldn’t tell you. It is treason and I can’t let anything happen to her, do you understand?“ he still only glared at her, so she quickly continued, unsure how to tell him.

„Francis, she … she is yours.“ she only whispered the word and for a moment she wasn't sure if he had even heard her.

He stood there for over a minute, not moving at all. His eyes were black and trained on her face, making the hairs rise on her arms. The fear in her chest grew with every passing second and just when she thought she couldn’t breath any longer he moved.

„No“ he took a step away as if to shield himself.

„Just before I left … I was already pregnant before the wedding Francis.“ her heart was slamming against her rib cage and she prayed he would see reason.

„No, Mary this can’t be true. I don’t …“ to her surprise it were tears that clogged his voice.

„I thought … I thought you would never meet her but I couldn’t keep this from you any longer. Neither of you deserve it.“ she took a step towards him, and to her surprise he didn’t retreat. „Please Francis, you have every right to resent me, truly you do. But she … she has no part in this, you said so yourself. It’s not her fault.“

The blue of his eyes was swimming in tears and the vein on his forehead was bulging though his skin. She couldn’t decipher if the emotion contorting his face was anger, hurt or something entirely different.

„Please forgive me.“ she pleaded with him and took another step.

They were close now, she could feel his breaths, racing from his mouth, and his eyes glimmered with tears in the moonlight.

„Do you really mean it, she really is …“

„Yes, yes I promise.“ she smiled and hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks using her free hand. „Francis, Anne is your daughter. She is our child.“

Slowly the realization seemed to dawn on his face and his tightly pressed lips softened and twitched into the smallest hint of a smile. The warmth and relief that flooded her body in response were the release she had yearend for so long.

Finally there were no more secrets between them. And however unwise her decision may have been, she simply couldn’t regret it. The glow in his eyes was balsam for her heart and the fact that this time the reason was a sincere one made it all the greater.

„Mary, I don’t know what to say.“ she finally saw the old Francis, the warm and kind version of himself, whom she had missed so dearly.

She only lightly shook her head in response and before anymore words could ruin the moment he enveloped them both in a hug, careful not to crush the baby.

The warmth of his body was so intimate and comforting. His hands closely held onto her shoulder and waist, gently massaging her skin. The rush of warmth surged through her entire body and her mind let go of all the sorrows and fears she had harbored.

He put his head to her’s, their foreheads gently colliding and she couldn’t bite back the grin that overtook her face. His breaths tickles her skin and made her loose hairs dance around her face. It had been so long since he had last touched her and each and everyone of her nerve endings seemed to flame at the contact of his skin.

For the first time in a year she felt at home. She never wanted to let go again, the fear of ever losing him again too great. And thankfully he didn't either, on the contrary, he only pulled her impossibly closer, not wanting to leave any space between them.

„Mary“ the warm tone filling his voice rang of so many memories and her heart respond in tune.

„Yes“ she still refused to open her eyes for the fear of discovering that it had all a dream.

„I love you. I love you so much.“ she only realized that he was crying when the sob escaped his mouth. „I missed you, every day. The thought of never seeing you again …“

„I know, I felt it too.“ she whispered in response.I will forever love you. And I am so sorry for all the things …“

„Don’t say anymore, not now. I will not poison this moment.“ he opened his eyes, his forehead still connected to hers.

His thumb reached for her face, softly caressing the reddened skin of her cheek. In response to his touch her eyes slowly fluttered open and where met with his. The blue colour had returned and the depth was hypnotizing. Before she could say anything further, he tilted his head and their lips met.

It was slow and gentle. There was no rush, no pressure and all the time in the world belonged to them. The sweetness of the moment overtook her mind and she completely lost herself in him, giving everything up. This was nothing like their last kiss, no anger, no pain clouded the moment. He moved to her bottom lip, gently nibbling on it and he swallowed the small sigh that escaped her in response. She felt him smile against her lips and when they both pulled away, their heads were filled with an unmatched appreciation and love for the other.

When both of them were sure that they wouldn't lose the other, he slowly took his hands from her, giving her room to breath. The rush of emotion had coloured the apples of her cheeks red and his eyes were burning with affection for the one person that had always meant more than anyone else. There was so much unspoken between them but their deep understanding of the other person was enough to know that words were not needed.

Anne had stayed silent through their whole exchange, looking from one to the other with confusion playing on her little face.

„She has your eyes.“ Mary whispered and the smile on both their lips grew.

„And your hair.“ he retorted and she bit he lip. „Can I … can I hold her?“ he almost sounded like the child version of himself, a sheepish innocence to his request.

„Of course.“ she shifted Anne in her arms and gently placed her in Francis’.

His movements were crooked and unsure at first, but she showed him how to angle is arms to support her head. The moment was all she ever dreamed it would be and more. The light in his eyes, how his whole face glowed when he beamed down at his daughter.

„She is so beautiful, she is perfect.“ he gently rocked her against his chest.

Somehow, through some inexplicable way, Anne seemed to know. The child understood. At her father’s touch she rested any tries to escape his arms and simply looked at his face in awe.

It was in this moment that Mary understood, her heart had grown whole again. This was it, the family they had always hoped for, the one the prophecy had made impossible. No matter how hard she had tried to deny it, they had been meant for another all along. Their paths had been destined to cross and no fait could have ever prevented them from finding another.

It didn't matter anymore that their circumstances were complicated, they didn't care. All that mattered was them. Francis briefly took his eyes of Anne to look at her and she knew that he too, had found his home.

Chapter Text

For two hours, time was lost to them. They were caught up in their own little eternity. Finally they had found each other, had found the place, both of their hearts had yearned for all this time. This was home, the space where all that had seemed impossibly actually manifested.

The only words were whispered in the other’s ear, not daring to break the spell. But both had carried a part of the other in their heart and the touch felt so intimately familiar. The child in their arms was an extension of their love, the living proof of both their sacrifice.

Although only having been aware of her presence for hours, the connection had been immediate. It felt as if he had known his child from the start and maybe he had. She was perfect, better than he could have ever wished. Her eyes, her encompassing gaze could hypnotize him for hours and he felt it heavy in his heart. The warmth spread through his entire body and clouded his head with a welcomed sweetness.

Now that he looked down at her in his arms, he couldn’t understand how he hadn't seen it earlier. Her eyes truly matched his so closely, reminding him of little Henry’s begging faces and his mother’s stern looks. Maybe it was only his clouded perception but to him Anne looked like her mother. Her fine cheekbones and her lips, even the crinkle of her brows seemed identical. Mary was right, Anne’s hair might be a touch lighter than her own, but still the resemblance was undeniable. She even smelled like her mother, of sweet honey and faintly of fresh lavender.

He brought her close and placed a gentle kiss on the soft skin of her forehead, closing his eyes for a moment as he savored the touch of her impossibly soft skin. It was a gesture he had extended to her mother countless times before, and this felt no different. Though he cherished holding her, he still feared for how fragile the child was. With every movement he was scared to somehow break her tiny body and when he shared his fears with Mary, she simply smiled in reply.

„She is stronger than she looks, Francis.“ Mary shifted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder and her brown locks tumbled around them.

They were perched on the edge of his bed and Francis gently placed Anne on the duvet between them. He didn't take his eyes of her, afraid to loose her again.

„Like her mother.“ he smiled, finally meeting Mary’s eyes.

„And I fear we will need to be a lot stronger still.“ she didn't look too pleased with her own words, biting her lip.

He understood. This right here was their bubble, their safe space. But this wouldn't last and they would all be inadvertently pulled apart once more. The thought soured the feeling of euphoria which had previously filled his veins. How was he supposed to let them both go, let them out of his eyes ever again?

What Mary had implied, was most likely true. This was the easy part, the comfortable steps leading to a steep and dangerous path. Wherever they were to go from here, it would most certainly get harder.

„I know.“ he barely whispered the words as if saying them too loudly would actually make it true.

„What do we do, Francis? I need to return to my chambers. Anne will have to be fed and my maids will get suspicious.“ she folded her hands in her lap, her eyes filled with doubt.

„I don’t know.“ he swallowed. It was true, he had no idea what to do next. „I just know that I have to protect you, both of you.“

Once again their future was unclear, just a blur of different scenarios. Some good but most dreadful and filled with darkness and tragedy. They would have to decide on what the wanted, and soon. Their enemies would waste no time to attack if the only sensed so much as a trace of weakness. After all, their lives were all but easy. There was more at stake then just them, there where whole countries, millions of people, to think of.

„I will stay at court, that is out of the question.“ he would not leave her again, ever.

„Bash won’t like it.“ she instantly sounded tired at the mention of her husband.

„I know. But I do believe that I have the upper hand. I should at the very least be able to force him to let me stay.“ his mind was already spinning further plans, falling straight back into old habits of the dutiful Dauphine.

„Amélie, that is her name right?“ surprisingly she didn't sound upset.

„Yes, what of her?“ he did not like where this was going.

„She should stay your fiancée. I don't think can be helped, lying to her. She seems like a sweet girl and most importantly Bash seems to like her at your side. He will feel less threatened with her present.“ just like that the Queen in her had manifested.

„I am glad you feel this way. We don't have to worry, Amélie is a dear friend and on our side.“

„How so?“ the faint note of jealousy in her voice instantly registered in his ears.

He took her hands in his, his thumb drawing faint circles into her skin. She bit her lip again when their eyes met and he squeezed her hands in response.

„We .. we never truly were engaged, not really. We have become friends. There was never anything between us but she has helped me get through a lot when …“

„When I wasn't there.“ Mary finished for him.

„Yes“ he nodded his head. „I don't expect you to like her, but she has a big heart and I ask you to give her a chance. She is one of the kindest and most honest people I have ever seen at court.“

She looked at him with heavy eyes that sent his stomach tumbling. With a short lived feeling of regret, he remembered their kiss. It was all jumbled in his head, the wine obstruction most of his memories of the evening. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel bad, even disgusted by his actions. But after all he had never intended any harm to either Mary nor Amélie.

„I promise, I will.“ Mary put her hand atop of his, simultaneously pulling him from his thoughts.

„Good. Concerning your reason for coming here in the first place.“ the hint of a wicked smile appeared on his face. „What do you intend to do about the christening?“

„Well, I’m not entirely sure but …“ she paused for a moment. „But I think we should do as the King asked. That way he wont be suspicious and you get to see Anne in public without having to play pretend. Just promise me that you won't try something.“

This time he was the one, who swore to uphold her words as he gave her a reassuring smile.

„Yes, I would like that. If she can never truly be mine, I imagine this is the closes I will ever come.“

„I am so sorry, Francis. If I … if I could go back, redo my choices, believe me I would. This is not what I wanted. I simply couldn’t risk you …“ she couldn't get the last word out, the tears welling in her eyes.

„I know. Mary I know.“ he reached out for her face, gently caressing the line of her jaw with his thumb.

The tears made her eyes sparkle and they mirrored all the regret and sadness he himself harbored. This was not how things had been supposed to go, this was not the life they had once dreamed of. He knew and he understood. He could see why she had done what she had done, thought he couldn’t yet bring himself to fully forgive her. She tried her best to smile away the pain but couldn’t quite hide her own sadness. Reading for his hand, she took it and together placed it on Anne’s head.

He closed his eyes giving into the touch. They were here together, all three of them. They were alive, able to enjoy this moment even if it wouldn't last.

The thoughts of what might have been, what they could have had where too daunting in his mind. But they had a child, the child they had always wished for, that would have to be enough he supposed. Anne was all his heart could have ever desired, so beautiful, so perfect. But the thought of never allowing himself to truly be her father, the role that was supposed to be his, stained the sweetness. He never wanted to let her go again, never for another second let her out of his eyes. Her face, her every movement was mesmerizing to him. The longer his eyes rested on his daughter the harder the idea of letting her go was in his head.

She would still be with her mother, save in Mary’s arms, he tried to assure himself. But it wouldn't quite work. He clenched his jaw, unconsciously tightening his grip on the bed post. She was his, they shouldn't be able to take her from him. No one should have the right to take his child from him.

It only seemed to further fuel his anger towards his brother, thought he knew that Bash most likely didn't even suspect a thing. For all he knew the child was his only still standing connection to Mary. What would Bash do, if he discovered that even that last link had been an act of betrayal all along?

„Bash can never know.“ he swallowed.

„I know. I don't believe he suspects anything as of now, though he does know that you’re still here because of me. But I don't think he’s the person we should worry about.“ she looked at him, her eyes suddenly turning very serious. „There are people here at court, who would only jump at the opportunity to overthrow the crown, if they only smelled so much as a trace of weakness. Francis, they will execute me.“ the fear mad her voice higher than usual.

„I wont let that happen.“ he abruptly stood from the bed, no longer able to bare look at them both, knowing that this could never truly be his life.

„Francis, you cannot tell your mother. Cathrine already knows …“ she stopped herself mid sentence, her eyes suddenly growing wide.

„My mother knows what?“ he turned towards her, feeling the betrayal return at the mention of Cathrine. „Mary, you locked her in a dungeon, don't believe that I would ever …“

„She knows. She knows that Bash killed … killed your father.“ she sounded mortified by her own words

„So it’s true.“ he could feel the anger rising in his chest and his voice grew with ever word.

He hadn’t meant for it to sound so resentful towards Mary, but it surely had been her doing partly as well. She hadn't pushed his father herself but had helped Bash cover it up. They had locked his mother away for over a month. It was just another lie adding to the long list of things she had hidden from him. No matter how good hearted her intent, it still hurt.

„Francis, please understand.“ Mary had risen to her feet as well, taking a step towards him.

„She is my mother.“ he spat out the words, looking at no one in particular and turned away from the bed and Mary. „You locked my mother away.“

It felt like their betrayals all over again. They had locked his mother, who was truly innocent in this cause, away. If it hadn't been for his arrival and the political pressure he had brought with him, Bash might have already executed her. And all of this just to cover up another lie. He was sick of it, sick of being stabbed in the back at every turn.

„Francis“ he felt her hand on his shoulder and she slowly forced him to turn her way. „Francis, please know that it was a last resort. She would have killed Bash, me and she would have killed Anne as well. She doesn't deserve this, but I couldn’t put our daughter in danger.“ she pleaded with him.

Her eyes were wide and her hands on him partly reduced the tense muscles in his neck and chest. She brushed along his face before melting into his tense stand, tightly throwing her arms around his middle. It took him several moment, but finally he gave into her embrace, allowing her comforting touch. She truly had a gift to wipe his mind clean and make all the anger fade from his body.

„I don’t agree, but I can understand you choice.“ he mumbled into her ear and allowed his head to fall on top of hers.

She slowly pulled away, careful not to make any too sudden moves. The fire behind them illuminated her eyes and they shown like dark gold against his.

„I need to go.“ she kissed him, slowly as if to savor the touch of his lips. „I love you.“ she pulled away.

His eyes stayed closed for another moment, not able to let her image go yet. When he opened them, she was over by the bed about to pick up Anne.

„Just let me hold her one last time.“

„Of course.“ she put Anne into his arms.

He took in a deep breath, kissing his daughter goodbye for one last time.

-

The castle’s chapel was filled to the brim with buzzing people. Lords and ladies from all over the country and beyond France’s borders had arrived in the last day. The crowd was only marginally smaller than at the royal wedding a year back. Even some of the lords, still opposing the current king, were in attendance. Most likely to witness any sign of weakness from the new King or his wife. After all, the girl did not yet secure the French throne.

He was standing between the priest on the one side and Mary and Bash on the other. The King looked pleased enough with how things had turned out and the smug smile made Francis’ stomach coil. But he supposed Bash’s ignorance was better than him suspecting Mary of treason.

Mary seemed happy, she was almost glowing. Truly a rare sight for the Queen these days.

He wasn't sure how to feel or behave. The situation was just too absurd and for some moments he wouldn't be quite sure if he hadn't simply dreamed the whole thing. He couldn’t show too much emotion or empathy for the child or people would surely have their suspicions. He swallowed, just the thought of Anne’s beautiful eyes making his heart flutter in anticipation.

„Hoc cum dixisset insuflavit et dicit eis accipter spiritui sancti.“ the priest’s voice boomed beside him.

In accord, Mary turned towards him, carefully resting Anne in his arms. When he looked up he caught the last glimpse of her smile and it inflamed a warmth in his chest.

Anne was awake, her eyes wide and full of interest as she stared up at him. He had to mentally force himself to look away as not to get caught in her eyes again. But the feeling of holding her so close had immediate effects on him. He could sense the heat in his veins traveling to his face, inflaming his cheeks and he hoped that the frankincense filling the air, would hide the change of colour.

He could feel Anne’s feet bumping against his upper body as he held her over the font. The priest poured the holy water over her forehead and Francis could see her eyes flashing upwards in response to the strange sensation. But she didn't cry and only looked at the man above her with big round eyes.

„In nomine filii hoc in conspectus multitudinis unxi te …“ he drew a cross over the wet skin of her forehead. „Anne Marie Madeleine Valois, first Princess of France and Dauphine of Scotland.“

Applause surged threw the hall and Mary seemed to outright beam with joy when he handed Anne back to her. His arm bumped into hers and he had to restrain himself from touching her out here in public. Beside her Bash had a polite smile on his lips but his usual lively green eyes looked weirdly empty.

The three of them made their way back through the crow, with the royal couple and Anne in front and Francis following suit. Congratulations were reigning in from all sides and people had happily resumed chatting as they exited the stuffy chapel.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could sense Amélie approaching and with a nod of his head he gave her a sign to wait for him outside.

Just when Bash was about to depart, leaving his wife to converse with the courtiers, Francis caught him in the corridor leading from the chapel.

„Brother, a word.“ he kept his face stern and his voice determined.

„What in god’s name …“ he could her the annoyance in his brothers voice.

„We need to talk, brother. I have a preposition for you I’m sure you’d be just too eager to hear.“ he tried not to let the anger influence his words.

„What preposition?“ Bash halted next to one of the windows lining the corridors, motioning for Francis to continue.

„There are certain things that have come to my attention. At first I suspected them to be nothing more than mean spirited rumors but I have my reasons to believe they are validity.“ he was careful not to arouse his brother’s anger too quickly.

„What things have you heard? And I warn you Francis, think carefully before you continue.“ Bash unfortunately seemed to already have an idea where this was going.

„Let us just say that our father’s fall might not have been an accident after.“ he met his brother’s eyes and the response was immediate.

„This is treason you’re talking of. I warn you Francis, I am still your King.“ he had driven his brother into defense.

„No, I warn you. You have two options. Either I talk, or as your legitimate heir and favored brother for the throne, I will keep quiet about this.“

„In exchange for what?“ the snarl in Bash’s voice made a smirk curl on his lips.

„In exchange for my mother. I believe that she has information that could hurt you and I promise to keep her quiet. But you have to fulfill my demand, it is that simple.“ he gifted his brother one last dangerous smile before turning. „You have until midnight.“

-

Just before the bells rang to mark the end of the day, the key turned in her cell and she was, after more than a month, free at last.

The hard wooden door swung against the hard stone wall of her cell with an ear-piercing bang and she shot up in bed. Her eyes flew open, hectically searching for any forms she could make out in the pitch black sell. A guard appeared, torch in hand, bowing before her.

She looked awful, her hair hadn't been combed in weeks, resulting in a cluster of knots and strands of tangles grey. The weight she had lost was evident in her prominent collarbones and her sunken in cheeks. She looked absolutely awful, and the stench radiating from her person was barely tolerable. The wrinkles gracing her forehead had deepened and her fingers were shaking from the cold of her confinements.

But she wiped her filthy hands on her dress, got up from the bare wooden bed she had been resting on and straighten her posture. Her head held high, she pushed her shoulders back and strode past the men that had been the only faces she had seen for days on end.

„I will have your heads for this. Don’t forget who I am.“ her tone was cold as usual and the flames of the torches were dancing dangerously bright in her eyes.

Cathrine de Medici was back and the people responsible would have to behold her wrath.

Chapter Text

32.

„Mary“ Kenna was visibly out of breath.

„I am sorry, your Majesty. I tried to tell Lady Kenna that you are indisposed. But she …“ Mary’s page was nervously fidgeting with his hands and Kenna shot him a icy look.

„Mary, you need to hear this!“ she huffed.

Mary gave herself a moment to take in the scene unfolding before her. Her page's look had turned into one of terror at facing Kenna's fierce spirit. She bit her lip, trying to hold back a laugh. Kenna could truly behave like an unruly lioness, but that fire was the reason she was such a dear friend. She would do whatever it took for her Queen and Kenna had saved her countless times. Still, seeing the young boy visibly trembling before them was humorous to behold.

„It’s alright, she can stay.“ Mary chuckled.

„Thank you, your Majesty.“ Kenna rolled her eyes in annoyance.

„You gave that boy quite the scare.“ she sank back down on the stool perched before her dressing table.

Lately, or at least the day since her talk with Francis, she had been in a measurably better mood. Her worries were still present and lurking behind ever corner but somehow that didn't really bother her. She had found a way to walk past them, pushing them into the forgotten darkness of her mind. Sure, danger was all encompassing but at some point, one’s body and mind seemed to adapt to the circumstances at hand.

She let her fingers trace over a beautiful necklace, crafted from delicate golden links and tiny rubies. It would go marvelously well with the cream coloured dress she had chosen for the day. Normally she would prefer wearing blacks and darker, more sinister, shades for her gowns. The darker tone made her feel save, a shield of fabric to hide behind. But today she had experienced a sudden urge to dress in something lighter, a piece of clothing that would further lift her spirits, rather than weigh them down again. She smiled to herself, the mental image of spinning in many layered dress with the light catching in the blood clouded jewels vivid in her mind.

Meanwhile Kenna had grabbed the nearest stool herself and thumped down on it next to Mary. She looked slightly disheveled which was not a usual assurance for her normally always careful friend.

„Well, tell me already. What required you to burst in her at this hour?“ she smiled at Kenna through the mirror, adjusting some locks of hair.

„Haven’t you heard yet?“ Kenna still sounded out of breath, which meant she had covered quite the distance coming here.

„Haven’t I heard what?“ Mary turned, letting the earring, she was just about to put in, slide back onto its velvet cushion.

The high pitched tone in Kenna's voice, alluding to some kind of emergency, had caught her attention. She let out a breath, trying to convincer herself that it was probably nothing, a minor incident most likely. She would not allow this to ruin her exceptionally good mood, not today.

„Cathrine was released yesterday.“ Kenna sounded appalled by her own words.

Mary’s heart seemed to still for a split second and it took her several seconds to actual make sense of what Kenna had just said. She must have not heard correctly. It couldn’t be true, it simply couldn’t be.

„She was what?“ all the calmness from just a minute ago, was gone, swooped away by the sudden news.

„Yes, yes, she was released some time during the night. So has no one told you yet? Have you spoke to Bash?“ the unrest in her friend’s eyes perfectly matched her own state of mind.

„No, I haven’t heard anything.“ she buried her face in her hands, wishing for this all to simply go away. „On who’s orders?“

„Apparently the King’s.“

No, Bash wouldn't have done this. No matter how much she had hurt him, he wouldn't dare. It was his life and his crown on the line as well. She simply couldn’t make sense of it, not now.

It was catastrophic news. If Cathrine walked free it only put every single one of them in danger. The implications of this were disastrous. The Medici woman knew too much, things that could kill her and her innocent child.

„But why would he do this now?“ the helplessness, she had already gotten so familiar with the past months, had returned.

„I … I am not sure.“ Kenna voice trembled ever so slightly.

„Whatever you know, please just tell me. I don’t care who you’ve heard it from.“ the panic was closing in.

Her chest felt awfully tight beneath her corset, restricting the intakes of her breaths. The tips of her fingers registered the familiar tingling sensation and the chill crept up her spine, making the tiny hairs, lining her skin, stand.

„My maid told me something. Apparently she heard it from one of the guards, but I don't know if …“ Kenna had seldom sounded so careful, a bad sign.

„Just say it.“ Mary could hear herself barking as her patience snapped.

„Francis … he supposedly forced the King to release his mother.“ Kenna’s eyes were dead set on studying the patterns of the rug beneath her feet.

„Francis?“ Mary felt as if all the air had been drawn from her lungs.

Why would he do that. Hadn't he sworn to her, just days ago, that Cathrine needed to be kept in the dark. The more Kenna told her, the less anything seemed to make sense.

„Mary, I’m sure he didn't do it to hurt you.“ her friends hand squeezed her trembling hand.

„I told him. Kenna, I told him about Anne.“ the tears blurred her vision and her voice cracked.

It felt like a hard punch to the stomach. Bash’s actions had been bad enough, but the two of them had grown apart far enough for her not to take it personal any longer. He was the King and she only his Queen in name, in truth there wasn't much left of any kind of relationship at all.

But this had come from Francis. The one person she had trusted more than anyone else. The one person she had entrusted her heart with. The idea of him betraying her, hurt beyond words. Her whole body ached and her chest felt awfully tight. Had he been lying to her all along? Had it all been just a clever ploy to elicit a confession and overthrow her husband?

The tear caught in her eyes lashes and when she trie to blink it away, it spun its ways down to her jawline. She looked up in the mirror and the happy girl that had woken this morning was gone. All that was left was the beaten and crushed version she had faced for too long. All the worries and fears had become unbearable and she had so welcomed the rays of hope the past days. But the face in the mirror was one of smeared black around her eyes and a deep furrow between her brows. The tissue to plot away her messy makeup freed her face from the black staines but the pain in her eyes remained.

„If you want, I can talk to him. He doesn't like me much, but maybe that’s a good thing.“ Kenna did her best to sound cheerful. „Mary, maybe it’s nothing. Maybe there is nothing to worry about.“

„You truly believe that?“ she sounded beaten.

„I believe that you shouldn't jump to any conclusions before hearing his side.“ she forced Mary to stand up with her just to envelop her in a hug.

-

„The Dauphin isn't in. I apologize your Majesty.“ the guard tried his best to persuade her to leave but she wouldn't have it.

„Your Queen has commanded to let her in. Don’t you dare defy her.“ Kenna held her head high, throwing the two hesitant men before Francis’ chambers a deadly look.

„I am sorry, I have strict orders not to let your Majesty or any of her ladies enter.“ the guard cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable by the confrontation.

„I beg your pardon?“ Kenna snapped back. „By who?“

Mary’s stomach dropped. Maybe it truly had been just a play on his part. He obviously didn't wish to see her, that much was clear. The uncomfortable feeling of panic took hold of her again and if it hadn't been for Kenna fighting at her side, she might have already broken down crying.

„We are under orders …“ the other guard tried to offer but was cut of when the door abruptly swung open.

„Oh for heaven’s sake. I told you two idiots to alert me when the Queen shows up, not make a public spectacle of it out here.“ her voice was fiery as ever. „I must apologize, these two don’t even deserve the title of guards, dogs would do a better job.“

Both Mary and Kenna found themselves staring at the woman before them in utter disbelieve. Cathrine certainly looked different. She was skinnier and her appearance was not as polished as the usual flawless version, they were used to. Multiple weeks in a dark cell could do that to even the finest lady, Mary supposed. Nevertheless her eyes were no less threatening and the fear of what the woman might do next, pressed down on her.

„Do come in.“ her overly cheerful voice and bright smile looked sickening.

After a moment’s hesitation both Mary and Kenna moved forward. The two exchanged looks and for once Kenna seemed just a shocked as she felt herself.

„Not you.“ Cathrine abruptly fired at Kenna who flinched back. „I want to talk to the Queen in private. Was that not obvious?“

Mary turned around but Kenna urged her to follow Cathrine. Mouthing ‚good luck‘.

The next moment, Kenna was gone and Mary found herself inside Francis’ chambers with Cathrine staring at her mercilessly.

„Where is Fr…“ she tried to ask.

„Not here. My son was kind enough to lend me his chambers for now, I hope you don't mind.“ she gestured towards the chairs at the hearth. „Sit, I urge you.“

Her heart was drumming against her rib cage and Mary sat, careful not to wrinkle her new dress. Cathrine sank into the chair opposite her, folding her hands before her chest. She did bare a scarily striking resemblance to a tiger about to attack. Her cold eyes were glowing with a sentiment, Mary couldn’t quite decipher, but it made her shredder nonetheless.

„Let me make something clear. You can call yourself Queen all you want, for me you will be no more than a beggar, an impostor on the throne. You, my dear, will never be a true Queen of France.“ the danger rang unmistakably in her choice of words.

„I demand to speak to Francis.“ she insisted on her request, turning it into a command.

„Oh no, you won’t. My son does not concern you anymore. He has found a lovely wife, much better behaved than you, I might add. And they will make a glorious royal couple. He’s finally moved past you, dear, and it’s all your doing.“ hearing Cathrine throw insults at her, even when she new that they were most likely unfounded, hurt.

There was no way of telling what was true and what the woman had just made up. After all Francis had set her free, going against there mutual agreement.

It didn’t make sense and the rational part of her brain told her not to listen, but what if Cathrine was right. Francis wouldn't be the type to leave just after finding out he had a daughter. She knew that, but what if she was simply wrong? What if he was not the man, she had once fallen in love with? That possibility always remained and it scared her beyond words.

She had trusted him with this secret, a secret that could destroy her. And he had seemed so sincere, so true in his love for her, for Anne. Her mind was spinning and it was getting increasingly harder to keep up with all the lies and twists her life had become.

„You don’t command any power within these walls, within this country.“ she would not let the woman get to her that easily.

She might be weak and nowhere as cunning as the much more experienced Cathrine but she wouldn't simply go down without a fight. Kenna was right, she needed to hear the second side of the story.

„Careful, my dear. You know, just as well as I do, that there are certain implication that could get both you and your husband removed from the throne.“ the older woman smiles one of her most sinister smiles.

„What doe you want, Cathrine?“ Mary snapped at her, not willing to endure this any longer.

„I want you gone, you and your husband.“ Cathrine glared back at her. „Go back to the retched country you came form for all I care. Oh and take that child of yours with you. The girl won’t do any good here anyways.“

„I will not.“ she could here herself shrieking.

„Oh, but I don't think you quite comprehend the situation you’re in, dear Mary.“ the air in the whole room seemed to be filled with danger and the kind of suspense, just before an explosion. „I am giving you a chance to go quietly. Don’t be mistaken, this won’t be pretty. I will not hesitate to put your head on the same chopping block, you have placed mine on for weeks. And I am not afraid to put the little baby you have to sleep as well. You will make a beautiful family in heaven, I am sure.“ the smile was the most fear inducing thing Mary had seen yet.

„Don’t you dare!“ Mary basically jumped from her seat. „Don’t you ever dare threaten my daughter ever again. No matter what issues stand between us, they have nothing to do with my child.“

„The daughter of an illegitimate king will not survive long either way. I would be doing her a kindness really.“ Cathrine was most evidently in a killing mood that had coloured her eyes pitch black.

„I will do everything for my child. Don’t underestimate me, after all you said it yourself. There is nothing greater in this world than the love a mother bares for her children.“ Mary’s voice had been reduced to nothing but a low grow, originating from the very back of her throat.

The impulse to jump at the older woman suddenly surged through her veins and it took every last inch of self control to make it to the doors and out into the corridor without her anger breaking loose.

But when her head fell heavy agains the cold stone, it was not anger but fear that gripped her. The sobs came quick, surging though her body and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Her whole body was shaking, no trembling, at the thought of loosing her daughter.

In some ways to many things had happened for her to care for her own survival. When she had been on the brink of death before, it hadn't seemed scary or dark but rather a welcoming nothingness. But the child, her child was not something she could fantom loosing. Anne was an innocent in this, she couldn’t allow anyone to make her responsible for her parents’ crimes.

Her fingers bore into the rough surface of the stone wall and her knees were slowly weakening under the weight of her body. She gasped out for air and opens her eyes just long enough to realize that there was someone standing before her.

She quickly tried to smooth out the carelessly wrinkled fabric of her dress and wiped the stray tears from her puffy face. She must look awful but there was nothing she could do now to rectify the situation.

„Your Majesty, are you alright.“ the girl carefully approached her.

With growing horror, Mary realized that it was Amélie.

Francis’ fiancée, the girl that had given her the rattle. But could she trust her? Francis had said so and she did seem sweet. But what if it was all just a ploy to lure her into trusting them. Right now it’s ought to be safer trusting no one beside Kenna and herself, she concluded.

„Is there anything I can do? You are shaking.“ the lady’s eyes grew wide before her.

‚You’re shaking.‘ something flipped in her mind and suddenly it wasn't Amélie face, hovering before her.

‚Don’t move, don’t push me away. You’re shaking.‘ his hand was on her waist and she instinctively tried to push it away.

She remembered, it had been her first week at court and the English envoy had cornered her, threats and dark promises leaving his mouth. He had been there for her then. Francis had used his sharpened social skills to extract her from the conversation, pushing her against a pillar in the progress.

‚You can’t show them you’re scared.‘ he had kept his voice just loud enough for her to hear.

Of course it was easier said than done for him. The English envoy had threatened her life, basically confirming that it had in fact been them, who had poisoned her taster at the convent. The fear had sent her into a state of shock, making it impossible to move or speak a word. The threats hadn't been empty ones and the she had practically felt the danger swallowing her whole with her back pressed against the cold surface of the marble pillar.

But he had somehow found a way to free her from her state of panic and fear. His touch had been the anchor, which had kept her afloat. No matter how dire the situation may have been, her trust in him had always been stronger. He would help her get through anything and it was the mental image of his eyes, encouraging her to be brave and to have faith in his words, that kept her mind from spiraling out of control.

‚I am at your side. We will prove to them our union is strong.‘ his face had moved closer with every word until they had only been a breath apart.

He would do this for her, help her find the strength both she and her county so desperately needed. She had had no other choice than to believe in him, to trust that he would be strong enough for them both.

Once she had regained control over her breathing and the black in her eyes had reduced to its normal size, she offered him a week smile. He returned the gesture and offered her his hand.

Can you do this?’ his outstretched arm had waited for hers.

‚Absolutely‘ she had nodded.

With her hand in his and knowing him close at her side, the English had suddenly seemed less threatening and even Cathrine’s sinister stares hadn't bother her as much. He had fought for her countless times and now it was her turn to honor his sacrifice. But when she blinked, his blue eyes had turned into green ones again and the realization hit her like cold water.

He wasn't here, he couldn’t help her, no one could. All the strength his memories had brought her, was quickly fleeing her body, leaving her week and empty. The Francis she had known on her first weeks back at court had been strong and determined in their love for each other. He would have done anything for her back than but that had been another time. Things had changed and she had pushed him away, broken the trust he had once brought forth.

She hoped that his promises the other day had been just as honest as a year ago but she couldn’t know for sure. And if anything, the past months had thought her to never unquestioningly trust any words, no matter how sweet or tempting they might be. She hoped he still loved her, but for now she needed to at least consider the possibility of something far worse.

„I … I think I should sit down.“ she murmured, feeling the sudden wave of weakness manifesting in her body.

„Certainly“ the other girl put a gentle but firm arm around her waist and guided her along the corridor to the nearest benches. Once she had assured herself that the Queen was safely propped against the wall behind her, Amélie snack down next to her.

„What happened?“ if she didn't feel so full of pity herself, Mary might have wrinkled her nose at the informal and direct address from a stranger but that was the least of her concerns right now.

„I thank you for your help but …“ she swallowed. „… but I can’t really trust you. I’m sorry.“

„Look, I know that you talked to Cathrine in there. I know that we share a complicated relationship but I’m not your enemy. Please believe that my words are true.“ Amélie did sound sincere but she knew better than to fall for her sweet round eyes so easily.

„Then proof it.“ Mary was too tired for any niceties.

„Cathrine may have discussed certain things with me, things she would rather not have reach your ears.“ the lady was biting on her lips, clearly unsure how to proceed. „She plans to make me the next Queen of France.“

Mary stared at her in disbelieve.

Chapter Text

„Leave me." she bit her lip, feeling the fear wither through her body. „I thank you for your help, but I need to be alone now."

Amélie examined her with a clear look of worry shining in her green eyes. The girl hesitated for a second before rising from her place. She quickly bowed before Mary and hasted towards the door, leaving the Queen alone in her chambers.

Just before the doors could fall closed behind her head of twirling blond locks, another person barged through the still open gap.

„Mary, there you are." Kenna was panting and her cheeks were flaming red. „You scared me to death, I thought Cathrine might have done something."

She quickly rushed towards the place Mary was sitting, completely disregarding the guard's disgruntled complaints at her unannounced entry.

Mary let out a sigh and with a quick nod of her head, made it clear that her Lady was a welcomed guest. The man shuffled out of the room and the doors finally fell closed behind him.

There was a moment of complete silence. Only the slight crackle of the wood in the fire and her own faint breaths filled her ears. She closed her eyes, her fingers tangling in her lap. Kenna must have simply stood before her, not moving a single finger as when she opened her eyes again, she found her in the exact same position as before.

„What happened?" Kenna pulled one of the stools closer, sinking on it before Mary. „What did Cathrine do? And why … why was she here?" her eyes narrowed, visibly annoyed by Amélie's visit.

„Cathrine threatened me, Bash and Anne as well. Nothing less than what you might expect from the woman, she's a ruthless calculating snake after all." her voice barely trembled and strangely enough she felt her strength returning little by little.

„But what could she do, even if she wanted to act on her threats?" Kenna sounded worried but the confusion was written blatantly on her face. „She holds no power here any longer."

„She knows things. Things that could topple Bash's rule and I don't believe her threats were empty ones." she hated repeating it over and over, as if the repetition might actually make it more real.

Especially since she couldn't tell Kenna the full truth. This was something that had to stay between Bash and her. It would only endanger Kenna as well, should she find out. Regicide was one of the deadliest crimes one could commit, especially when it meant killing one's own father.

Even telling Francis might have been a huge mistake, a fool's errand, now that she looked back on it and contemplated her foolish actions. She had given him the weapon to bring down Bash, and herself. She had practically handed him the crown. Her heart had reasoned that he would never use it against her, that he would never dare hurt his own daughter. But what if he didn't care, what if it had all been an act for her to expose her secrets. He could take Anne and patiently wait for her and Bash's heads to leave their respected bodies.

She swallowed hard, the thought of Francis betraying her making it hard to fight back the tears. Besides maybe Kenna, he was the only person she had really ever trusted. Her heart was his, it had belonged to him for a very long time. The love binding them together was the only reason she was still here, alive to watch her daughter grow. But maybe it was exactly that love, her heart so desperately clung to, that had blind sighted her. Had it made her ignorant to his true intentions? All she knew was that if that was the case there would be little she could do. She couldn't fight, not him, not after all that had happened. He would rip her heart out and she wouldn't survive that level of torment again. Her body and heart, the same, had grown to weak, exhausted by the actions she herself had initiated. All the lies and bitterness had broken something within her, a part of her she had once dreamed invincible.

For those fading few hours in his room, with Anne between them, she had felt whole again. As if finally she had been abled to breath at last, having slowly suffocated for all this time. Gradually the oxygen, an with it the life, had drained from her bones and it was only when she had felt his skin, so tightly pressed against her's that he head pulled her out of the water, in which depths she had threatened to drown in.

The distance put between them had made her sick, physically week. Her body craved his and she longed for the touch of his hands in her hair, on her neck and tightly wrung around her back. The need her body exhibited towards him was almost pathetic and though she wanted to believe that it was all simply in her head, she couldn't deny the pull. His laughter ringing in her ear when she would chastise him for his unruly locks and the deepness of his eyes, she had once been so intimately familiar with. They had woken every morning to each others kisses, and entangled limbs under the sheets. She would nestle her cheeks against his bare chest, the heat of his body brining colour to her skin. His hands would absentmindedly run through her long hair, gently tugging at the strands and she would trace the lines of his muscles and faint scars he had earned in fights against his brother with her fingers. The magic those moments had entailed felt almost unreal when she would try to recall the memories. The genuine happiness within them both had seemed bigger than even life itself. How foolish they had been when reality had slapped all of their love and comfort from them.

She found her chest heaving as the emotions threatened to drown her. The memories seemed so real and there was no world she could imagine without him. If his betrayal was true, she couldn't live with herself.

Kenna's hand was, as so often, wrapped around hers and her friend's thumb gently caressed the back of her hand.

„You know we will find a way through this. We always have. You have survived so much, I promise we will sort this out somehow."

„Kenna, she has the English on her side." her voice was choked by the tears, blurring her eyes. „They don't simply want me of the throne, they want me dead." one tears dripped onto her skirts, creating a perfect circle as it melted into the thin fabric of her dress.

Kenna was stunned for a moment. „The English, but how do you know?"

„Amélie told me. Cathrine intends for her to be the next Queen at Francis side. She wants me gone from French court but … but the English wont allow me back to Scotland alive. They will kill me and Anne." Mary willed herself to fight through the haze, her own tears had created.

Her eyes must have been filled with sheer terror as she witnessed her friend panicking.

„Mary, you will fight this. We will fight them, they won't touch Scotland, they wont touch you!" Kenna was talking too fast and almost stumbled over her own words.

She didn't understand, none of them would. She didn't want to fight, she couldn't if it meant fighting him. There was not an ounce of strength or willpower left within her weakened body. The past months had drained her and she simply wanted to rest, to sleep and forget all the problems toppling over her.

She had lost him again, after all the trust she had placed in his hands, he had walked away. This was it, she was sure, this would be how it all ended. In blood and misery, all the joy robbed from them.

„I can't find Francis." she barely managed to swallow her own sob. „He left me, again. I can't do this, not if it means fighting him."

„What do you mean? Why would Francis have betrayed you." Kenna sounded more shocked than anything else. „You must know that he would never hurt you, hurt his own daughter. Mary, he loves you."

„I thought so too. But there are so many things, things I can't explain. He freed Cathrine, against my explicit wishes and I haven't talked to him since. I don't know where he is, not even Amélie could tell me. Kenna, I can't find him." her voice was shaking and she could feel her whole body tremble.

„No, I saw him. I saw him just half an hour ago. Mary he hasn't gone anywhere." Kenna pulled her into a hug, doing her best to calm her Queen's fears. „Don't do this to yourself, don't jump to any conclusions. He might have been busy. Maybe he doesn't even know what Cathrine is planning."

„Where did you see him?" seemingly Mary had ignored the rest of Kenna's calming words, only concentration of the shimmer of hope she had lain out before her.

„He was talking to that noble. You remember, the Count from Italy, we have seen at court?" Kenna almost beamed at her, happy to have found some comforting news to bring her friend.

„Count Strozzi?"

„Yes, I believe that is his name."

„Kenna, he's the one, who threatens to bankrupt the crown unless Bash abdicates."

The beckon of hope, Kenna had drawn up inside her, had been extinguished by the blink of an eye. When before she could have clung to the idea of Francis simply being ignorant to his mothers plans, that hope was gone now. He was, right in this moment, talking to the very man who would like nothing more than to see Bash and herself off the throne. After all the Count was one of Cathrine's Medici cousins. The man wouldn't hesitate to set all hell loose on them if it meant seeing a Medici heir on the throne.

„Mary listen, you need to do something." Kenna was still beside her, not willing to let go of her any time soon. „If they truly plan as you say, you can't simply let them win. You need to tell someone."

Mary slowly nodded, still overwhelmed with the flood of tangles thoughts occupying her mind. Kenna was right, she needed to do something. If not for herself, than for Anne, she couldn't simply give up on her daughter.

„I need to find Bash, and quickly." she shot up from her place and Kenna stared at her with a mix of surprise and pride mirroring in her dark eyes.

„The Queen, your Majesty." the page bowed and allowed her to enter the royal chambers.

The rooms where darker than she remembered. The curtains had been partly drawn to block the weak autumn sun and the hearth was empty of any comforting flames. Only several burned down candle stumps illuminated the eery room. The light flickered across the walls and the grand bed, she had spent so many nights in, casting ghostlike shadows.

This had once been a happy place. Though the bed had never been filled with true love it had brought her joy. Months ago, the thought of waking to Bash beside her, had seemed comforting. The whisked green eyes and his messy brown hair had amused her when she had found herself in his arms in the early morning hours. He had never been his younger brother but the mutual respect both had shared for the other had been good enough. And maybe, if it hadn't been for the child, it could have truly been enough for a lifetime. But that was not how things had gone, too much had passed and the flame of their once bright friendship had been suffocated by the lies and spite between them.

Maybe one day, they could find back to that place of trust and friendship she so dearly missed. It was the respect, she still held in her heart for him, that she prayed would help her now. Here in France she was just a Queen, no more than her husband's consort, carrying a meaningless title with a grand but empty crown. He was the King, her King, and if she was to succeed in escaping this turmoil, his help was indispensable. After all, Cathrine's threats conceded him just as much as they did her. If he wanted to keep his throne and life, neither of them really had a choice.

She took in a breath and felt the puffy air filling her reluctant lungs. He had been scrunched over his desc but at the page's announcement he had turned towards her. His eyes looked strangely hollow and deprived of any emotion as he eyed her. He was clearly surprised to find her here, of all places, in their shared chambers.

The heavy golden crown rested on a stack of books beside him and she could see the damage its weight had inflicted on his body. His shoulders had sunken forward slightly and the normally perfectly fitted doublet seemed looser around his torso. The skin on his arms and face had grown paler and she guessed that he must have spent most of summer inside the privy council's dark chamber. A pang of guilt manifested in her chest at the sight before her. She couldn't help thinking that this was partly her doing. She had forced the crown on him and had stood by idly as he had crumbled under its responsibilities.

But this was not the moment to ponder her poorly made choices, it was too late for that now. What she had come here to discuss was of far greater urgency.

„We need to talk, Bash." she straightened her posture, hoping to find her lost confidence.

„I know." he rose from his chair and crossed over to where she was standing, closer to the door.

„Why didn't you tell me? Why would you release Cathrine in the first place?"

He only stared at her for a moment, his heavy green eyes piercing her weakened facade. His lips opened but he quickly closed them again, dropping his gaze to his hands. His reaction only further confused her and she wasn't sure what to do next.

„I need you to talk to me. Bash, look at me." she slowly moved closer and her demanding tone caused his head to rise again.

„Now, you want me to talk to you. Mary, I am sorry." his words sounded hollow.

„Tell me why you did it, why you let her walk free." she repeated her question as a demand. „She could kill you, she could kill both of us. This is not some idle game."

„Don't you think I know that." he suddenly hissed at her. „Whatever you might think of me. I'm not a stupid man, I know the power she holds over us." his green eyes sparkled at her with a certain hint of danger.

„Why then?" the frustration made her voice rise.

„He threatened me. If I hadn't let her out of that cell, Francis would have had both our heads." his jaw tensed and she could hear the strain in his voice.

„He wouldn't have." she said it more to herself than him and the tears suddenly shone heavy before her eyes.

She hadn't expected Bash to confirm her worst fears. Francis would have never done that, he would have never hurt her, would he?

„I guess you don't know your dear Francis as well as you thought." he spat at her, clearly not pleased with her reaction. „After all, I did this to also safe you, we are married, incase you might have forgotten."

She stayed quiet, too busy sorting through all the thoughts and clouded fears in her head. He must be mistaken, Francis would have never threatened him, not after she had asked him not to. Had he truly forsaken her, her and his own daughter? She couldn't believe it.

„What I find most curious," his voice demanded her attention. „Is how he got word of it in the first place. You see Mary, he threatened me with things that I had thought previously only between us two. He knows I killed our father and don't dare say he only heard the rumors." the anger welling in his voice made her flinch.

Whatever she said now, he had caught her in a lie. When Bash, herself and Cathrine had been the only people to know of the sin her husband had committed, it was impossible to excuse her actions. She had told Francis, she had placed their most dangerous in the hands of the one person, who could bring both of them down. It was her betrayal and they both knew it.

„You told him." he seemingly interpreted her silent reaction as proof of his claims. „For god's sake, Mary. Why on earth would you do that? Do I mean that little to you, does your own life, our daughter's, mean nothing at all?" it was nearly a scream and she kept her eyes on the floor.

„I am sorry." she tried to search for the right words.

She needed to explain to him, why she had done it, why she had to tell Francis. But her mind felt weirdly empty and there was nothing she could do or say to counter his anger.

„You are sorry? Mary, you might have killed us both. Do you even realize what you have done?" he ran his hands through his tangled hair, manically pacing before her.

„Bash, I never wanted this. I thought he would use it against us. He confronted me about the rumors and It thought he deserved …" but he cut her off.

„Of course he deserves to know how our father died. Mary, he is my brother after all. But he will use this and there is nothing we can do. He won't care that Henry went mad or that I simply wanted to save you, it won't matter to him."

„I didn't think …"

„Yes, you didn't think. Whenever it comes to my dear younger brother, your naive love for him seems to win over. You'er not a stupid girl anymore but I simply don't understand what you see in him. He has already betrayed you and still you won't let him go. Mary, he's using you and your simply following him to your grave." he wrung his hands at her, his eyes catching the candles' fire.

She stumbled back, struck by his blunt words. He had no right to speak to her in this way. She was not a small child anymore. She wouldn't allow him to patronize her with his words, she had taken enough insults for one day.

„I don't expect you to understand." she shot back at him.

„Well good, because I don't. We're at his mercy because of you. For the child's sake, I hope he still has some piece of his conscience left. She won't survive long if we fall, I hope you know that." he glared at her one last time before turning around.

She gaped at him in utter disbelieve. He had barely ever interacted with Anne, but still she couldn't comprehend how he could talk so coldly about his own daughter.

„Bash, I'm not finished." she ordered him to turn around but he wouldn't obey.

„But, I am." he kept his back towards her and when he wouldn't say another word, she thought it better to leave.

Her thoughts were flying through her mind, sending her head in a dizzy. She understood that he must be frustrated, even angry with her past behavior. But how could he turn a blind eye to what was unfolding right under his nose? Why wouldn't he do anything to help her, to help himself? The panic restricted her breaths and she had to hold onto the nearest wall for balance.

If he had already given up, she would have to find another way. She wouldn't let Cathrine and her English foes win so easily, there was still a fight left within her. Her heart was curiously steady within her chest, almost as if it was begging her mind to concentrate. There must be another solution, she was sure of it.

But that was just it, if she couldn't win against Cathrine, there was one last chance to stop her threats. It was dangerous and she didn't trust the woman nearly enough, but there was no other way and telling her was a risk she would have to take. A careful smile spread over her lips and she quickly lifted her skirts as she hurried along the familiar corridors to Francis' apartments.

Chapter Text

„Cathrine, a word.“ even she was surprised by her sudden surge of courage.

The older woman spun around, narrowing her eyes at Mary.

„Guards“ she exclaimed and the men carefully peaked through the still open door.

„As of now, I am still your Queen and for the time being, you will obey my orders.“ Mary glared at them.

„I condemn this way of simply bursting into my chambers, your Majesty.“ Cathrine still held one of her little flasks, which she had been fiddling with earlier, in her hand.

It was curious indeed. Minutes ago her husband had screamed at her, cursing her stupidity and reckless choices. The fear mixed with anger in his eyes had infected her and she could have fainted from the overbearingness of it all. But somehow she hadn’t. As through a miracle, her legs had carried her out of Bash’s chambers and her head had felt weirdly empty. But that same nothingness meant that the fear had somehow fled her body and mind. Maybe she had just been beyond the point of carrying for anything anymore. The adrenaline in her veins had filled her head and washed out all her fears and inhibitions.

When one reached one’s breaking point and pushed beyond it, the resistance, built up by one’s own doubts and fears, eventually faded away. If you pushed a scared cat long enough, she would at some point attack with an impulse to kill. She had never felt this determined in her life, standing here before the one woman she had used to dread more than any other person in this world. If this plan of her’s failed, it would mean her death and maybe it were just those high risks, riding on the outcome, that made her braver than ever before. When the only alternative was death, no sacrifice would be too high.

Francis wasn't here and the likelihood of his betrayal higher than she might have wanted to admit. The secrets she had entrusted him with and the courage it had taken her to speak the words in the first place were now lost. He had deserted her and the damage it had done, left her heart and soul strangely hollow and empty. In this very moment he was in talks with one of the biggest threats to her and her husband’s rule. Whatever the future might hold, she had to find another way. Anne was the one thing she held dearest in her heart and she was not about to give that love up for anything, not even death if that was what it took.

She had spent enough of her time, pondering Francis decisions and choices. If he was lost to her and her daughter too, she wouldn't crumble with the pain but rather grow with the challenge. She was a queen, the ruler of an entire nation in her own right, just as Anne would be her rightful successor. No one could ever take this from them and she wouldn't allow anyone to take her daughter from her side. She wouldn't rely on any man, be it France or the husband, she wished she had never married. This right here was her responsibility and she wouldn't disappoint, she could feel the strength restoring in her bones.

With the courage filling her hollow heart to the brim, she put on a bittersweet smile that would compliment the fire in her eyes and willed herself to speak again.

„These aren't your chambers, the Dauphine resides here by my and may husband’s good graces. But I’m not here for him and what would you have to be afraid of? You said it yourself, you have the power to destroy both me and my husband in a heartbeat.“ it felt almost ecstatic and freeing in a way to finally be able to say those words to Cathrine.

„What do you want?“ Cathrine glared at her and Mary could sense the tension filling the room.

„To make you a preposition.“ she folded her hands in her lap and gave Cathrine her most endearing smile.

„What in god’s name could you offer me?“ Cathrine put down the flask, crossing her arms before her chest. „You have lost dear, it is time you came to that conclusion as well.“

„I may have lost, but there is something you would do good to consider. Francis would never forgive you for being the one responsible for my death.“

„You don’t have to die, dear. It is entirely your choice, either you return to your country and reign there amongst your protestant friends, or stay here and find your head on the chopping block.“ Cathrine seemed satisfied with her proposal.

„Well, you see, the English might not share your good heart. We both know, fully well, that they will never allow me back to Scotland alive.“

„Oh, but I don’t believe that is my problem.“

„Are you certain, Francis will see it that way?“ Mary herself couldn’t be sure what Francis really wanted, but Cathrine didn't know that, which was all that mattered for the purposes of her plan. „He loved me and I loved him. I don’t think he would take kindly to my death.“

„How dare you.“ Cathrine moved towards her and the fury slowly took hold in her eyes. „How dare you talk of your love for my son. You were the one who ruined him, you broke him and I won’t allow you to go near him ever again, not if i can help it.“

„But after all, it was you who told me not to marry him. You didn't want him at my side and I believed your prophecy. I didn’t event tell him why I did it all, until much much later, too late.“ Mary swallowed, doing her best to contain her own anger. „I did as you told me. I kept it silent. So you can blame me for many things, but not for following your own words.“

„You did so much more than simply not marrying him. You threw his whole life, his family’s legacy, his claim to the throne away. You got my husband killed and locked me into a cell for weeks. These were not my words and you know that, just as well as I.“ Cathrine’s head had taken on more colour with every word. „But I hope you’re content now. You took everything from my family and now you’re the one who wears the crown.“

„This is appalling. You talk as if this had been my plan all along. Do you really believe that power matters this much to me?“ her fingers were filled with the strange tingling sensation. „I loved Francis, I still do. I did it all for him, too keep him alive, to keep your firstborn son’s heart beating.“

„You must truly be delusional.“ Cathrine laughed in her face and her fingers were pressed into tight fists.

„I guess love can do that to a person. You can hate me all you want but don’t do this to your own son.“

„Francis will recover. Once he discovers what a life without your destructive choices can offer him, he will see reason.“

„Maybe“ Mary narrowed her eyes. „You once told me that there is nothing greater than the love a mother bares for her children.“

„And that is precisely why I’m doing this.“ Cathrine persisted on her point.

„Have you actually talked to Francis yet? Because I believe the love a father carries for his child can be just a great.“ she couldn’t help but let out a short laugh at Cathrine’s aghast expression.

There was a moment of silence that weighed down on the whole room and neither woman moved so much as a finger. This was it, she had entered through the doors she had promised herself never to cross. Cathrine might not have grasped onto her meaning yet, but she had rounded a corner from which there was no turning back.

„I am actually surprised you haven't discovered it yet. You’re normally so fast and sharp with these things.“ Mary bit her lip trying to suppress another mad giggle.

„Discovered what?“ Cathrine was practically grinding her teeth.

„I lost. You were right and there is not much else I can do. But I can tell you about the honest consequences of winning. The innocent child you propose to murder carries your own blood.“ she could detect a hint of uncertainty behind Cathrine’s normally unwavering facade.

Cathrine only stared at her with incredulousness, clearly not wanting to believe what Mary had just told her.

„You’re lying to save your own pitiful skin.“

„Believe me, I would have never have told you under any other circumstances. But I had already been pregnant before the wedding and as a result, this could cost both me and the child our lives.“

„This is madness.“ Cathrine sank onto her lounge.

„However much, you might hate me, you could never kill your own grandchild. And before you consider the possibility, Francis knows. I lost but this is not your victory either.“ Mary finished.

Her heart was pounding awfully fast, sending waves through her body that resonated in her ears with every beat. The adrenaline had set free a part of herself she hadn't seen in what seemed like forever. The sudden surge of strength had hit her full fore, had taken her body and mind alike hostage. Cathrine had truly been right about that one thing, a mothers instinct to protect her child was the strongest force she had ever known. A kind of love that paralyzed and freed one’s body at the same time.

She could see it in Cathrine’s eyes. The shimmer of reflected light in the sea of grey, signaling her defeat. Mary had accomplished the unthinkable, she had shocked Cathrine, broken the woman’s unwavering strength into pieces.

Cathrine had sunken down on the lounge before the fire, her expression catching the dancing flames. Her arms were propped on her knees, covered by an almost black dress, and her eyes wouldn't leave the burning wood. The outer edges were already well burned and crumbling down in flakes of black while the wooden core was ablaze with fiery red flames, liking their way deeper and deeper. The heavy silence weighing over Francis’ chamber was only disturbed by the hushed crackling sounds escaping the dead wood. Cathrine simply continued staring and Mary was too busy, collecting her racing thoughts, only encouraged by the wave of euphoria her victory had illicited, to do anything more than stand there and breathe. The older woman had absentmindedly begun to twirl the decadent golden ring, embedded with an enormous ruby, between her thumb and index finger. The strain, her recent confinement had left on her, was still evident in her meager fingers and most of her ornaments ill fitted her thinner frame.

„Why should I believe a word you say?“ Cathrine’s eyes remained set on the fire before her and her voice had lost some of its determination and coldness. „For all I know, you could just be making this up. How am I supposed to determine the child’s father?“

„If my word truly counts for nothing, you can speak to your seer. Nostradamus was the first to discover my true date of conception.“ Mary too felt calmer.

„You could have payed him.“

„For heaven’s sake, she even looks like Francis. I’ve tried to hide it as best as I could, but I guess it must have been just a matter of time before someone discovered the truth.“ Mary fidgeted with the golden seam of her long cut sleeves.

She thought about her daughter’s sweet face and angelic golden blond curls. Anne’s face hovered before her eyes and it only struck her in that moment.

„I’ve never seen it before now.“ she smiled. „But Anne has something of your eyes.“

It was true, Cathrine’s blue hazel eyes resembled her daughters in a strange way. Hers were cold and abrasive, just like the kind of water cold enough to burn your hand. Anne’s blue reminded her more of Francis’ warmer and welcoming tone and the love she still hoped to find in his smiles. Before, she would have hated, if not totally detested, the notion that her sweet child might in any way resemble the cruel and aged beautify of the Medici Queen.

Cathrine eyed her suspiciously and for a moment Mary feared the woman might scream at the audacity of her words. But when she blinked, Cathrine’s stern look had softened and miraculously her thinly pressed lips had relaxed into the smallest hint of a smile. The notion of her first grandchild and Anne’s resemblance had conjured some of the fire’s warmth into the cold woman’s heart.

„But this … this means …“ she seemed lost for words, looking at Mary for help.

„You have a grandchild, yes.“ Mary tried to offer but Cathrine only shook her head vehemently.

„No, no, the prophecy.“ she exclaimed and her eyes lit up with fire.

A bolt of fear tore its way through Mary’s chest and pierced the hope her heart had recovered. Nostradamus’ cursed words had been the cause of all this, the reason for all the hurt and pain between them. She had suffered enough and was certain that her heart couldn’t take anymore. Whatever talk had inspired the mention of the prophecy in Cathrine, it wouldn't be good. She shuddered slightly and a sense of nervous anticipation had won over the previous euphoria.

„It was wrong.“ Cathrine raised her hands towards Mary in an almost begging manor and all she could do was stare at the woman with empty eyes.

„What?“ she couldn’t believe it.

What could have possibly made Cathrine come to that abhorrent conclusion?

„It was wrong, at least in that one aspect.“

„I don’t understand.“ Mary was too lost for words and even articulating this simply sentence had strained her racing mind.

„Nostradamus, he told me …“ the smile on Cathrine’s face looked somewhat manic and the sudden pitch in her voice didn't help to calm Mary’s confusion. „He saw the future, a future where my son was dying and … and you, you were childless. Don’t you see? You and Francis were never supposed to produce a child.“

Mary stared at her with incredulousness. Whatever Cathrine was trying to convey to her, it didn't make any sense. It couldn’t be true. After all these months of suffering and silent torture, it had all been for nothing? Both their sacrifices had been useless and only helped to further their sorrow. The floor beneath her heels was strangely unsteady and she had to hold onto the headrest of the nearest chair to keep herself from falling.

„You cannot mean that.“ her sudden weakness translated into her voice and it took all her strength to remain standing.

„But I do.“ Catrine, in contrast, was a close to beaming as Mary had ever seen her. „This is good news, Francis is saved.“ the notion of her oldest and most promising child being saved from fate’s cruel grasp had visibly lightened her demeanor.

„Nothing is good. You have destroyed everything. I should have never listened to your insane words and pleas in the first place. Don’t you see, what you have done to me and Francis.“ Mary almost screamed at her and the fingers clutching to the chair were shaking vehemently.

Cathrine gaped at her, visibly in shock by her response. Mary could feel the colour rising in her cheeks and this time it was not because of shame or embarrassment, but a deep and growling anger. The prophecy, those few words, had toppled her whole life and had left it in pitiful pieces. The nights she had spent crying against a damp pillow and the ache in her heart at the thought of him. It seemed so utterly cruel, a bad joke but laughter was the furthest thing from her mind. The voice in her head, she recognized as her own, rang in her ears, yelling for her to do something, say something. She needed Cathrine to feel the pain and fury ripping at her own heart but her body was frozen in place. Only the increasing shaking of her fingers and colour of her skin alluded to the storm brewing within her.

„After all these months, you tell me that my sacrifice has been for nothing.“ the breaths were racing from her lungs as if her body sought to rid itself of all air, causing the uncomfortable tightening in her chest. „I might die, my daughter might die because of you.“

Cathrine’s narrow eyes had grown wide and the black had almost drowned out all the blue and brown tones still left. Her white skin had turned even paler and she stumbled back against Francis’ broad desk, knocking over the pot of inc. The dark black liquid spilled over the wood, drawing the strangest patterns on its surface.

„You have made Francis hate me. The love we had, you destroyed it all.“ Mary took a step towards her.

She could sense her own shoulders growing broader and her head towered more than ever above Cathrine’s slightly crouched figure.

„I will never forgive you for this.“ her hand hit the left side of Cathrine’s face and the impact sent a sharp sound echoing throughout the room.

They stood there for several moments, bot women staring at the other. Her chest was rising and falling with every labored breath her lungs produced and she balled her hand, trying to rid herself of the strange tingling sensation radiating from her palm. The look in Cathrine’s eyes was indecipherable and she felt trapped by the woman’s hollow gaze. She could see the faint red mark, her own hand had left, growing more visible on Cathrine’s cheek. The sounds of their breaths mixed with the crackling from the fire and sent chills down Mary’s spine.

The sharp snap of the doors abruptly opening finally caused both to move. Their heads snapped around, almost in union, to find the source of the disturbance. When her eyes fell on their intruder, the frightening coldness from her chest spread through her body and her mind went numb.

„Mary“ Francis eyed her with blatant confusion. „Mother?“ but Cathrine too stayed silent.

Cathrine rose her hand to the bright red spot, drawing across her cheek, carefully testing the rearing patch if skin. But at her son’s confused look she only pressed her lips into a tight line, a expression Mary had witnessed countless times, and didn't speak a word. Mary for her part stared at Francis and her lips were still parted in surprise. After all the worries and pain the thought of him at inflicted on her she couldn’t believe he stood only meters from her.

She wasn't sure what to feel exactly. Was she angry, furious with him for the betray of her trust? Or was she, on the contrary, relieved to see his face, for what might be the last time? She couldn’t tell and the surge of emotions captivating her mind were too tangled to make sense of. After all that Cathrine had told her, after hearing the words she had clung to with regret for months, the sight of his eyes hurt a part deep down she hadn’t known existed.

He could have been her life, the husband she had alway wanted at her side and the child born out of long lost love would be truly theirs in name and legacy. But however much she wished to change the past, to undo all the cataclysmic choices, which had landed them here in this room with miles of hurt and lies between them, she couldn’t. A year of sorrow and heart ache for nothing and the once glorious future before them had crumbled to ashes, just as the scorched wood in hearth.

She swallowed and with regret, felt the knot in her throat growing with ever moment of deafening silence. For his sake she had done abominable things, with the one goal of his survival pushing her further and further into territories, best left untouched. And the maybe worst part of this revelation was that she had succeeded. The pain she had inflicted upon him had driven him away, too far for the length of her bloodied hands to reach him. Out of her grasp, he had let go the part of herself once promised to him and while she had crumbled in despair, he had turned his back and moved onwards.

The love both had shared was the most destructive force she had ever come to know. People had died and everyone had suffered more than their fare share, and maybe if it hadn't been for the innocent lives at stake she could come to terms with her own terrible faults. But after all, this wasn't about them anymore and the people standing behind them both could not be brought forth to suffer anymore. She wasn't just a girl and he not simply a boy. The destiny of countries confined them to an invisible cage and the keys had long since been lost, thrown away by their own mothers.

As he stood there and his eyes flickered between his mother and Mary, the sensation of drowning closed in on her. He must have noticed the despair mirroring in her gaze and how unusually cold the warm colour of chocolate had grown towards him. His eyes narrowed slightly in response and turned his head in anguish, reaching his hand out towards her but stopping in his tracks. Whatever he had seen behind her frozen facade it had caused him to recoil and the furrow between his brows deepened in confusion.

Just when she thought he might not take it any longer he moved, but not in her direction.

„Mother, what have you done?“ the deep growl in his normally warm voice sounded colder than she had ever heard him and little bumps covered the length of her arms and neck.

Cathrine opened and closed her mouth, not sure what to tell him and in her own disarray, her eyes flickered towards Mary’s. The almost pleading expression didn't help, to calm the storm raging behind her own eyes.

„No Francis, what did you do.“ it wasn't a question and the words felt foreign as they passed between her lips.

„I didn’t …“ but the pain of his betray, shutting through her veins, was greater.

„Do I truly mean that little to you? Where all of your promises just pretty words?“ her fingers curled into fists at both sides and the blood pulsed threw her body. „Your own daughter, Francis.“

He gaped at her with a mixture of confusion and shock at the tone of her voice.

„Mary, whatever you think I did, I assure you …“

„No Francis, you don't get to tell me not to worry. You promised not to release your mother and instead you set her on me like a wild dog. Threatening Bash and even myself I can understand, but you had no right to drag Anne into this.“ she hissed at his astonished face.

Francis eyes darted back to his mother, who leaning against the wall, avoided his gaze. In her own state of enragement she barely noticed the sudden change in his demeanor.

„How could you dare say that I would ever assume to threaten my own daughter’s life?“ both glared at the other and the air seamed hot enough to burn skin. „How could you ever think this low of me? I did nothing but support you after all the things you have done and this is your thanks. You should know me better by now, than to trust my mother’s words.“

„I am sorry, but bringing the English into this is far beyond the question of me trusting your mother’s words. They will see me dead and I won’t apologize for keeping my daughter save.“ she shot back, in no mood to simply accept to his accusations.

„Mother, I only asked for you to give me a day before reigning havoc within this castle. Maybe the cell truly has turned you mad after all.“ the vertical vein on his forehead was budging through his skin and the muscles in his face echoed his distress. „I told you not to talk to Mary.“

„Then I’m pleased to tell you that it was she, who sought me out. Otherwise I might have never learned about the existence of my grandchild.“ the old and headstrong Cathrine had freed herself from the state of shock, she had previously been in.

„You told her?“ he spun around.

„I had no other choice.“ all the sudden it was Mary, who found herself in the defensive. „You were nowhere to be found, conspiring with that Italian friend of yours and I would not tolerate your mother’s threats any longer.“

„I see now that I should have told you but things were moving so quickly.“ he massaged his temple with two fingers and the exhaustion of the day’s events started to peak through his anger. „But I thought you trusted me. I would never dare to put Anne in harm’s way, believe me.“

„Then what did you discuss with Count Strozzi, for a whole day, I might ad?“ she demanded in response, crossing her arms defiantly.

„The succession to the throne.“

„Whatever for?“ she glared at him, not entirely sure what his words were alluding to.

„The planned coup. I cannot allow this madness to continue.“ he confessed, finally meeting her gaze.

His eyes looked heavy and she could do nothing but respond with an expression of incredulousness. How had they arrived at this point? She had never thought it possible that there might come a time when one brother would overthrow the other, while spite and their shared lies were the only things binding them all together.

Chapter Text

While cold winds and dark clouds surrounded the caste, the mood within its walls perfectly matched the harsh first days of early winter. The nights reached longer into the days and the little sunshine that did remain, felt cloaked by darkness once the sun started its decent beyond the gloomy and somber lake. The birds had already forsaken their usual spots between the flowering gardens and stone paths, leaving the morning hours empty of their warm songs.

Midwinter was still months away but the heavy clouds, draining the sun’s last rays, threatened snow. Abrasive winds would swoop under dresses and send hair flying in all direction of those, who dared brave the cold. Mary had confined her daily routines to the insides of the castle’s walls, having given up her usual morning walks days ago.

She found it hard to concentrate on anything really these days. Her worries accompanied her at every step and the fear of her uncertain future seemed omnipresent. Sometimes she would wake in the middle of the nights to find her sheet slick with sweat. The heavy blankets would cling to every inch of her body and the sensation of being a captive in her own bed, her own rooms, would overtake her. Not once had she actually screamed out in terror, causing one of her maids to force her from her night mares.

The faces she saw were contoured and all wrong. Missing eyes or expressions she had never seen before, tormented her. It was mostly be Bash, who visited her in her dreams, his beard unshaved and the insanity in his eyes made them shine bright green. She would thrash in her her bed, struggling to cover her dreaming eyes and no matter how hard she tried to push the images away, they wouldn't relent. When at last, she did wake in her cold and empty bed, her mind would reel and suddenly Bash was at her side. His arms would press her body into the mattress with an inescapable force and things she had never thought to find in her husband would appear in her dreams. He taunted her, cursing her existence, their marriage and the child he envied for its mother’s love.

It wasn't real, of course it wasn’t. But the fear always won over the rational parts of her mind, poisoning her heart with resentment. The thought of Bash incited fear and she hated herself for it. This was not his fault and in truth he might be the actual victim in this blurred war. It disgusted her, knowing that at some point his abdication would be inevitable. She would nod and assure Francis of her support but her stomach recoiled whenever she heard him and Cathrine plot their coup.

It might not be just, having a legitimized bastard sit the French throne. But she questioned the rightness of their own planned actions. Surely god wouldn't sanctify this act of treason between brothers. After all, Bash was still that, Francis’ brother and her husband and dear friend. He didn't deserve any of this and the guild felt heavy in her heart. The memories of them together in the gardens, chasing after her dog and his bright laughter as they tumbled in the soft grass still rang in her head, but the darkness and her own regrets obscured the images and sounds her heart tried so eagerly to cling to.

Could she really rectify betraying her friend? Her conscience constantly reminded her of all the people she had already forsaken. Lola and Aylee, girls she had known since her very first days at French court. Even Henry’s death burdened her, the fact that she had been partly responsible for Cathrine’e imprisonment. How much more could her mortal soul really take?

Kenna did her very best to occupy her friend’s mind with brighter, less frightening thoughts. She would read her Ovid’s poems and present her with the newest silks from Venice. But after few minutes, the dark thoughts would inevitably return and her strength crumbled under the pressure of not letting their impact show.

It was almost midday and the light outside the clouded glass of her windows lingered between the dark sky and pitch black water of the nearby lake. Kenna was busy braiding the loose ends of her hair and rolling them into a not at the back of her neck. The pins and needles she used to secure the pieces of hair in place, tucked on her scalp more than normal. She already lusted for the moment to let her hair fall loose in the evening, releasing the building pressure. The headaches she had alway been prone to, only seemed to intensive with her tight updos.

She glanced at her reflection in the golden framed hand mirror and carefully dusted some rouge on the high points of her cheeks, giving her dire pale skin some much needed colour. The brush sent off clouds of dust when she shook it against her wrist and the little particles sparkled in the weak sunlight.

„You look beautiful, the colour truly suits your eyes.“ Kenna complimented her newest gown.

It was a deep green piece, simple in its cut but the material was incredibly soft and soothed her skin, rather than scratching it. Golden buttons covered the whole length of the bodice and skirts and the whole look remained her of an huntress. An illusion of strength and the person, she yearned to be. Amélie had sent her the dress as a gift and she had been truly thankful when the girl had handed it to her. It fit perfectly and Mary smiled at Kenna’s notice.

„That is very kind of you to say, thank you.“ she focused on her reflection in the mirror again, unsure if her eyes needed more colour.

„Have Francis and you decided yet, what you want to do?“ Kenna carefully approached the sensitive topic.

„Not really.“ Mary confessed. „There is still time and I don’t see the need to rush anything.“

„I am just glad, the two of you finally stand on common ground.“ she carefully positioned the delicate crown in Mary’s hair, securing it with even more pins.

Mary gently smiled in response and finished her look for the day, by slipping her usual rings on their according fingers.

-

The guards greeted them at the entrance to the nursery.

Mary would have preferred keeping Anne at her sides in her own chambers at all times, but court protocol demanded a strict separation of the Queen’s children. It was a cruel idea indeed but there was little she could do to change it. In the beginning it had been hard and she had lain awake in bed for countless nights, listening to Anne’s distant screams. She had worried and cried herself to sleep wishing for her daughter. But nothing, no amount of tears or sleepless nights, had helped, the only remedy being Anne’s beautiful face in the mornings, when she would rush to the nursery.

The grief of having to hand her off every day was still present and she doubted the day it would truly disappear but in the end she had come to terms with the arrangement. After breakfast in her own chambers, sometimes accompanied by Kenna, she would ready herself for the day and Anne’s sweet face would wait for her in the child’s bed, multiple corridors away from her own door.

She had brought a book of stories for Anne to read to. She doubted that her daughter even understood one word but the sound of her mothers voice always brought a warm glow to her chubby face. Anne would spew out incoherent sibyls and even the simple roll of her lips managed to enlighten her mother’s worried spirits.

When there door opened to the small room she halted for a moment. There was another figure standing before the window and the crib was empty. This had never happened before as she had always been the only one to visit her daughter here. The light escaping through the glass obscured her view of whoever was standing with their back turned towards her and for a moment she feared, Bash had come to take the baby away. But at the opening of the doors the person turned and to her her immense relief it was not Bash, but Francis standing before them.

„I hope you don’t mind.“ he smiled at her and than Anne in his arms. „I heard her crying and couldn’t stop myself.“

„Of course not. On the contrary, I am happy to find you here.“ she responded with a smile herself and signaled for Kenna to leave them.

The doors closed behind her lady and she wasted not another moment apart from the two people, most dearest to her heart. Francis was leaning into the small alcove the window formed against the walls and she positioned herself opposite from him.

She regarded his face while his own eyes intently concentrated on every small movement of their daughter in his arms. The corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly and the sparkle in his eyes was magnificent to behold. She bit her lip, trying to suppress a giggle that would surely pull Anne from her light slumber and the impulse, to tuck away the loose strands of blond hair falling into his face, was nearly too strong to contain.

Seeing them both before her, only manifested their resemblance. The shape of his slender lips fitted into her angelic face perfectly and their hair almost shared the same shade. If there ever even had been such a moment of doubt, it was undeniable that she was Francis’ daughter.

Anne’s lips parted, forming a perfect o-shape and a sigh escaped her small mouth. Francis gently rocked her in his arms, careful not to wake her.

„It’s almost a miracle, I thought she might never stop crying.“ he raised his head to meet Mary’s gaze and she gave him an amused smile in return. „You should have heard her. She might look as peaceful as an angle now, but dear god, her screams could deafen a grown man.“

Mary only chuckled in response and lightly shook her head. He faked an expression of outrage but the warmth never left his eyes.

„You don’t believe me?“ he teased.

„But of course darling, I could never doubt your abilities as a nanny.“ once the last word left her lips, she couldn’t contain the laughter any longer.

Her giggles filled the small room and now it was Francis time to shake his head in loving incomprehension. His lips curled into a smile as well and Anne slowly started to move against her wrap in his arms. Thankfully the child stayed silent and both adults exchanged a look of relief.

„You’re the perfect father, I couldn’t have asked for a better man. I truly mean it.“ she rectified her previous words.

She reached both hands out and cupped his face, framing both cheeks. His eyes met hers and she could feel the slight stubble as her thumb drew across his skin. The kiss she pressed to his lips was one of mutual love and gratitude both kept save in their hearts. She felt his lips smiling against hers and when she drew back, both found themselves slightly out of breath.

She took one hand from his face to gently brush over Anne’s smooth blond head and the baby stared back at her. Her mouth formed tiny bubbles of spit and a little drooled down her chubby chin.

Regrettably their moment of comfort and peace was cut short, when both Amélie and Kenna burst through the door in unison. Francis was just about to reprimand them for their intrusion, when he caught the look of outright distress, contorting Amélie’s features.The girl was out of breath, judging by hear panting and bright red cheeks. But Kenna was the first to recover her voice.

„Cathrine …“ she drew in another breath.“ He has Cathrine!“ she exclaimed and her eyes flashed between Mary and Francis.

„What“ Mary started but got cut off again.

„The King, he … he is threatening to arrest her again.“ Amélie huffed.

„But why would he, what reason does he have?“ Francis looked absolutely lost.

„After Cathrine switched sides, the English sought for a new ally and they found one. They’re all in the throne room, we have to hurry.“ the tone of urgency was blatant in her high pitched voice.“

„Call the nanny.“ Francis placed his daughter into Kenna's arms and pulled Mary through the door with him.

They practically flew through the corridors, not taking note of any aghast looks they earned in passing. Seeing the Queen running, which on its own was considered scandalous behavior, hand in hand with her husband’s brother was sure to gain them the attention of the whole court. But they didn't care, not for this moment. If Amélie spoke the truth, and they had no reason to doubt her, there was no time to waste.

Whatever insanity had brought Bash to take such a step, she didn't know but the consequences would be disastrous. However much she had hated the woman, she trusted her actions were sincere. Cathrine had promised them she would forsake the alliance she had created with Mary’s English foes but none could have ever foreseen this outcome. It didn't make much sense, if she was being honest, but if her husband was in league with her worst enemy, he certainly hadn't done it out of concern for her.

„It will be okay, I promise.“ Francis whispered and she felt his grip tightening around her trembling hand.

They rounded the corner and stopped when the scene, unfolding in the throne room, manifested before their eyes. Guards were littered across the entire hall and a disgruntled crowed hectically filled the room with noise. A sense of panic and fear lay in the air and Mary felt herself shudder in response.

She could clearly make out Bash, positioned on his throne, atop the steps towards the back of the hall. She had expected to find him hectically ordering commands or even screaming at Cathrine but he kept quiet and his eyes were curiously turned towards the tips of his leather boots. The more worrying sight than her own husband though, was the man standing beside his right. The deep red colour and golden lion emblems stitched across his doublet clearly marked him as a supporter of the English crown. The smug smile curling on the man’s grim features sent chills running down her spine and when she turned her head, the expression she met on Francis’ face mirrored her own.

„Get Count Strozzi, now!“ he hissed towards Amélie, who had come to a stop directly behind them. „Tell him it is time.“

The girl quickly nodded and hurried off with her heels hitting the stone floor in a rapid clicking rhythm.

„Francis, thank god.“ Cathrine emerged from the crowd, flanked by two of the King’s personal guards.

„What has this to mean, I demand an answer.“ Francis broke their hands apart and moved into the room, leaving her behind at the entrance.

The crowed willingly parted for him and a silent hush fell over the hall. Bash nervously scooted in his place on the throne and the English envoy only gave Francis a spiteful glare.

„On what ground do you rectify arresting my mother, the wife and Queen to our late King, my father?“ his words carried through the whole room, echoing at the high sealing

At first he was met with silence but after a long moments of exchanged glances, several cheers echoed from the crowd and a murmur surged through the courtiers. Multiple men shouted their approval at Francis words and some clapped in agreement.

„The Lady Cathrine has committed treason against her own King and country.“ the English man at Bash’s side cleared his voice.

„And what treason would that be?“ Francis had now reached the bottom of the steps, leading to the King’s throne, and placed a foot onto the first step. „Did she by any chance point out the treasonous actions of our own King?“

„Careful“ Bash hissed and shot Francis a warning glare. „Your mother has conspired with an enemy of the state.“

„The same man, standing beside your throne at this very moment, your Majesty?“ the mocking undertone in Francis words did not go unnoticed and multiple voices erupted from the crowd behind him. „We value your Lordship’s presence at French court, but don't assume to forget your rightful place.“ the English envoy only chuckled in response and remained unmoving at Bash’s side.

The man and Bash exchanged a look and the King rose from his throne. „Arrest her.“ his words persuaded the crowd to momentary silence agin, before he was confronted with an outburst of angry voices and raised fists.

„Treason“, „Traitor“ and „Bastard“, they shouted. The angry mob blocked the guards’ access to Cathrine’s person and multiple man pushed against the guards’ advances. A heated quarrel formed and Francis’ own personal guard did their best to shield the Dauphin from the outburst. Mary could barely make out his blond head in the aroused crowed and the sound of her racing heart filled her ears. She had never before witnessed such a display of physical disobedience at court before and the growing mob, forming before her, infused her head with fear. The sense of panic rose throughout her body and she stumbled backwards, meaning to put as much distance ad possible between herself and the fighting courtiers.

„Your Majesty“ she almost shrieked aloud when a deep voice addressed her from behind.

She shot around to find the Italian Count, she had seen with Francis multiple times, standing before her. A sly smile curled on his slips and she was surprised to find a whole brigade of man, armed with swords and wooden shields, ready behind him.

„Don’t fear, your Majesty, we will keep you save.“ he nodded towards one of the man behind him.

The guard bowed before her and moved to stand at her side while the count continued forward into the hall. The element of surprise worked in their favor and the crowd stilled for a brief moment, regarding the newly arrived with curious distrust. The Italian had brought more men than Mary had anticipated and all she could do was watch in awe as they encircled the contesting crowd. Once all of them were in position, the Count nodded towards Francis, who presumed to fight his way out of the crowd and climb the stairs to the same level as his brother.

„Honored Lords, I urge you to listen to me.“ he is voice boomed surprisingly loud through the hall. „The times are not easy and our great country yearns for a strong leader. Many of you know me, personally, and let me assure the other, I am not a man of spite or betrayal. I value honesty and this is a fight I have pondered long and with great care. To give truth and justice where it is due and free this court from all its lies and corrupt voices.“ The crowd followed each word, pouring from his lips, in total awe. „As my late father’s heir and the rightful successor to the throne I demand to relief my brother, the King, of his duties.“ a charged uproar exploded from the crowd.

Mary felt a tingling sensation accumulating in the tips of her fingers and she bit her lip with anticipation. By god, she had never wanted this, never meant for it to go this far. Francis’ words had elicited a certain element of euphoria and victory in her but the fear, their actual meaning thrusted through her body, tensed ever muscle within her. This was a dangerous game, the threats were no empty ones any longer and the danger behind them imminent. Whoever smiled victoriously after today would have paid a high price. This conflict demanded blood and the losing side, would pay with their heads. She knew that defeat would mean her own, Francis and Anne’s heads but her stomach recoiled at the thought of loosing her estranged husband all together.

She clasped her hands together, tightly knotting her fingers to keep her from shaking. The tall man at her side, remained motionless and his stern eyes were directed at the spectacle ahead. Anne was safe with he nanny and Kenna, she hoped but still the fear for her child lingered in her bones.

„I hold in my hands a document from his Holiness, the pope himself,“ Francis drew a piece of parchment from beneath his doublet, holding it out for the crowed to see. „withdrawing the legitimization of by brother, Sebastian. Further, I have witnesses proving his part in the late King Henry’s murder.“ another burst of outrage erupted from the crowed.

All the colour had drained from Bash’s face, as he stood motionless beside his younger brother. Mary could clearly detect the hints of fear sparkling in her husband’s eyes and the knot in her stomach tightened in response.

„I hereby sentence Sebastian de Portiers for treason and regicide against his father, King and country.“ Francis briefly met her eyes and she could see the glimmer of regret as he slightly nodded his head towards her. „Arrest him!“

To Mary’s surprise, cheers suddenly filled the hall and she could her people applauding and chanting „Long live the king!“. The Count’s guards moved forward, encircling Bash where he stood at the top of the stairs. He looked beaten and offered no resistance when the men at his side pushed him through the agitated crowed.

He halted before Mary and his expression of sorrow and regret brought tears to her own eyes.

„I am sorry, Mary, truly.“ his eyes pleaded with her for forgiveness but before she couldn't move or say anything, the guards forced him onwards.

She felt the tremor move from her finger throughout her whole body and it wasn't long before her whole stature shook with the terror and tears welling within her. He had been her best friend, the person she had once felt closest to in the whole word adds he couldn’t help but thinking that this was her fault. It had been she, who had forced him onto the throne and now she had betrayed her own husband. The weight of her own crimes threatened to suffocate her and it wasn't until Amélie appeared at her side to expand a calming hand, that she regained her breaths.

-

The morning was dark and early as the sun hid behind the thick grey clouds, racing across the sky. She hesitantly opened her eyes to find the fire in the hearth empty and cold. The air ghosted under the blankets and drew goose bumps over her skin. She shivered and the muscles in her neck and arms ached from the cold when she attempted to turn around. The silence was ghostly and she felt something stir within her, an uncomfortable sensation she just couldn't shake. The memories from the past week had haunted her dreams and infused her heart with even more guilt. Bash was right now in a dark and musty cell, fearing for his life while she enjoyed the comfort of her warm feathered bed. She had know that, even if they were victorious, it would still mean the loss of a friend. But she had never expected this level of guilt and regret to greet her in the morning.

Her body felt numb and surely not simply from the cold room she found herself in. Her fingers carefully spread over the cool and crisp surface of the sheets, covering her body, and fisted the material in her hand. Her dark hair clouded her view of the bed and when she tried to rise from under the blankets a weight, drawn across her legs, stopped her. She halted and found Francis legs covering her own. It took her a moment to comprehend his presence in her chambers. She couldn’t remember falling asleep next to him, which mean he must have joined her later in the night.

She certainly didn't condemn his being here but the thought of what had conspired the days before, what he had done mad her feel uneasy. She gathered her thoughts deciding she would visit Anne before breakfast. She had just seen her daughter before turning to her own bed yesterday evening but the question of her safety and wellbeing was always most forefront on her mind. They had done things, set in motion an unforeseeable chain of events that could potentially bite them back, once they reached its last link.

It had been over a week ago now, Bash had been brought to the dungeons and she had stood by watching it all happen. His pleading green eyes still haunted her. Especially know that his punishment had been set yesterday, he was to be burned at the stake, his face haunted her day and night. It was a cruel way of taking a life and the idea of feeling one’s own skin melt from the bones was terrifying at best. His mother had been a pagan and evidently that had been enough to convict him of the same monstrosity. She still wasn't quite sure, why Francis wouldn't have granted him a more forgiving death and he had averred any questions she had confronted him with. Beheading was gruesome to behold, surely, but it went by quickly and as painless as it could ever be.

She did her best to push the dark thoughts and images of Bash’s head rolling before her, as far away as possible. The date of the execution had not been set yet and maybe there was still another way to be found. But her daughter was still alive and well, that was what mattered most for the moment.

It was still early and there were hours left before the whole castle would rise but she welcomed the idea of spending some time without prying eyes, lurking behind every corner.

She scooted out from underneath the blankets and gently freed her feet from Francis’ grasp. He was still deep in his dreams, his head turned against the pillow and some blond hair peaked through the white of the sheets. She drew her robe closer against her shivering body and slipped into her flat slippers. The shoes were still icy cold and her toes recoiled at the touch but she didn't mind the cold, not today.

She reached the door, just when Francis turned in the bed, muttering something incomprehensible in his sleep. He turned his head with his eyes still closed, as if to follow her person and she halted for a moment. He looked so peaceful, the way his mouth would fall slightly open and the furrow between his brows was calm in his sleep. Before deciding against it, she leaned over the bed one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin covering his forehead. He sighed in response but didn't wake. She smiled to herself and quickly scurried through the door.

As she had expected, the corridors where empty and the only people awake to witness her early morning visit to the nursery where the guards bowing before the door.

She quietly entered Anne’s chamber and the cold gush of air took her by surprise. The window stood wide open and the nanny was nowhere to be seen. She hastily hurried to the crib but found it empty.

A sudden surge of fear withered through her body and ran along her spine. The muscles around her stomach tightened and the need to throw up overcame her with an unexpected intensity. The crib was empty, her daughter wasn't here. She panicked and the fear mad her head spin. She clung to the wall with her hands, desperately trying to remain standing as her knees threatened to give out beneath her.

She was gone, Anne was gone. Someone took her daughter. And finally she screamed, the tears blurring her vision when when the guards rushed to find her sunken against the wall.

„They took my baby.“ her heart recoiled in her chest and the thought of loosing the one person she held dearest in this world, poisoned her mind.

Chapter Text

36.

„What is going on, someone speak to me.“ Francis commanded as he rushed into the nursery.

„She is gone. Francis, they took her.“ Mary’s face was framed by the tears chasing down her cheeks and the desperation cracked her voice.

When his eyes fell from Mary to the empty crib, she was hovering over, his heart recoiled. The air fled his lungs and he felt as if someone had just knocked their fist through his stomach. It shouldn't be empty. He froze and his mind rebelled against the truth of what he saw before him. His limbs felt heavy as lumps of lead and unstable as friable wood at the same time. He gaped at Mary, unable to find the right words, or any word for that matter, to calm her fears. There was nothing he could do as he himself stood paralyzed at the sight before him.

„They took my baby. Anne, my sweet little Anne.“ Mary repeated it over and over like a prayer, as if the words could somehow bring her back.

She crumbled to the floors, her fingers still clinging to the wooden frame of the crib. The sobs visibly surged through her body as she shook before his eyes. His eyes flickered between her and the wooden child bed, unable to form a coherent thought. His hair was uncombed as he had scaled straight from under the covers at her screams. Some lonely blond curl fell into his face and when he brought his hands up to push the hair away, he found them trembling. This had been his worst fear and maybe it had been foolish of them not to keep Anne closer. If this was the price he would pay for their victory, Anne’s innocent life, he would gladly choose defeat without so much as a second thought.

Slowly he sensed his coherent thoughts returning and his heart pushed past the withering curtain of pain and despair. The window to the side of the crib stood wide open and now that he saw it, he felt the chill ghost over his skin. He shuddered and in the next moment found himself at the perch of the window looking over the sill. His heart threatened to explode in his chest and when he found the hard and frozen ground beneath empty, the relief still felt smothering.

This meant, there was still a chance. The glimmer of hope she was still alive. He held onto that thought with all the strength in his heart. They couldn’t allow the pain to win over, not now. This was not the time for tears and no amount of heavy drops from his eyes would bring her back. Anne needed her parents to be brave, to fight for her. That same hope of his child’s life finally brought him to speak.

„Lock the gate, all the exits from the castle and search ever room. I don’t care who you wake, you will find her!“ the anger and despair soured his tone and the guards flinched at his dead eyes.

Moments later he could make out the men hurrying through the corridors and in minutes the whole castle was filled with confused voices. Mary still sat crumbled against the wall and had her face buried in her hands. He swallowed, well aware that there was nothing he could say to calm her own panic but he also knew that he would have to at least try. So he sank to his knees beside her, prying her hands from the wooden frame of the crib and closely enveloped them in his own.

„It will be okay. I won’t allow them to take her from us. Mary, we will find her!“ his words didn't sound half as confident as he had hoped and she slowly rose her head at the sound of his voice.

When normally, her eyes resembled the colour of dark warm chocolate, they looked grey and frighteningly hollow when they met his. The skin around them gleamed red from the tears, her eyes had rained upon her face, and her lips weakly parted without a single sound escaping.

He stared at her with a mixture of desperation and ignorance at what to do. She faltered and her eyes broke from his glance as she wrapped her shaking arms around her body in hopes of shielding it from the icy air escaping the still open window. He quickly moved to close it, before carefully picking Mary up from the hard stone tiles. She felt awfully light in his arms and her head fell heavy against his chest. The shudders still raced through her body but the sobs had slowly turned into less violent hiccups. He pressed his lips against the top of her head and with the weight of her body in his arms the tears finally manifested before his eyes.

-

„Have you looked everywhere?“ he barked at the guard and the man carefully nodded in response. „Are you certain?“

He felt the heavy feeling in his stomach returned as the man repeated his nod. She wasn't in the castle. Wherever the perpetrators had taken her, she was somewhere out there, in the cold harsh winter. The anger spiraling though his mind urged for a release and the wooden table trembled beneath him when his hands slammed against its polished surface. The air felt suddenly deprived of all oxygen and his lunges labored to keep him afloat.

„Are we sure, it is the English that have taken her?“ he tried his best to remain calm in the face of his own drowning fears, but was interrupted by another voice.

„There has been a rider, your Majesty.“ a servant’s boy interrupted his question as he came to a halt before them, visibly panting. „He waits outside, your Majesty.“ he bowed and nervously awaited Francis’ reaction.

He studied the boy’s nervously glimmering eyes and his lips formed a thin line as he pondered the news. His eyes landed on Mary, who sat curled up in one of his heavy arm chairs. The thing looked almost monstrous in comparison to her slender figure. She had knees pulled against her stomach and the waves of her deep brown curls hid her face from his view. He could see the white of her knuckles and her fists, tightly gripping the wrinkled fabric of her robe. She had refused to change into a more befitting attire. But he guessed there was no fitting gown or any jewels appropriate to mourn the loss of one’s child.

The whole room was silent, Mary had thankfully stopped sobbing; the awful sound of her cries had only broken his heart further. He hoped that she might have fallen asleep but he was too scared to check. If she was lost in a world of dreams, far from this one, he didn’t want to rip her back into their dreadful reality. His hand hovered inches above her head but he decided against caressing her soft hair and balled his fingers into a fist instead. An indistinguishable rush of emotions ran through his veins and he felt his nails digging into the soft skin covering his palms.

He loved her so much and the greatest pain was the truth he had to accept. He was helpless, there was nothing he could do and he hated himself for it. Wasn't he the one supposed to protect her, hadn't he sworn her that? He let out an uneven breath and closed his eyes for only one brief moment, yearning for escape. When he opened them again, they were met with his mother’s sympathetic glance. She had stood next to the fire, unmoving, and for a moment he had pushed her existence from his mind. Not even one of her canning plans could bring back Anne, and the look of defeat in her eyes only proved it.

He swallowed before turning back to the door and quietly entering out into the corridor. The guards and another man, he took for the announced rider, already waited for him. The men’s expressions seemed set in stone and no matter how hard he tried, his mind couldn't decipher their meaning.

„I am told, you bring news?“ he cleared his voice.

He was King, the leader of France, the man wearing the crown. But today he felt as far from royal and as he ever had. There was nothing regal about his bloodshot eyes and the slight tremor occupying his fingers. He quickly intertwined them and bit his lip. No today he wasn't King, today he was a father mourning the loss of his child.

„Yes, your Majesty. I was sent to deliver this to the castle.“ the man hastily pushed back the overbearing fabric hanging from his arms and pulled a filthy looking bundle from a worn out leather bag.

He stretched the thing out towards Francis, who carefully picked it from the man’s hand. It was a lightweight bundle, wrapped in multiple layers of cloth. The colour resembled that of mud and the stench radiating from the thing almost made him gag in disgust. The inadvertent tremor in his fingers returned as he carefully pulled apart the layers of cloth.

He froze when the last layer revealed another kind of fabric, a thicker material. His breath stilled and he slowly ran his thumb across the material. It was rose in colour and little roses were stitched across it but there were multiple dark splotches and with a shattered release of breath he recognized what he was holding in his hands. It was a piece of Anne’s clothing, one of the bodices Mary or the nanny would dress her in. He distinctly remembered the soft touch of the fabric, when he had last held her in his arms.

But there was something, some kind of object, wrapped in the bodice. He already dreaded what it might reveal to him and his mind felt weirdly empty when he pulled the fabric aside.

„No“ he only whispered the word.

The object he uncovered was one he had held in his hands before. The wooden rattle, carved in the shape of an flower was drenched it half dried blood. The bells he had once tied to its petals were partly ripped of or squished under what must have been a heavy weight. His fingers were covered with sticky blood and the strong stench of iron mixed with something rotten.

„No, no“ he repeated it louder this time and staggered backwards as the rattle his the ground with the distinct sound of breaking wood.

His vision was obscured by the tears in his eyes and the tightness in his chest suddenly felt unbearable. Her sweet face swam before his eyes and the pictures mixed into an endless swirl of bloodied memories. She wasn't dead, it couldn’t be true. He would not accept it. He felt his head shaking and the voices, of his guards and own mother calling out to him, sounded distant, as if all sound was filtered by a thick feathery pillow. All he could see was his daughter’s face, the sweet smile she would greet him with and the eyes everyone always liked to compared to his own.

The child he had barely know for a months was his own. The bond in his heart had been instant as if the connection had been there all along. He heard his own sobs and the awful sound filled his ears. All he could hear was his own misery and pain of loosing the person he had known too short. They had supposed to have had more time, this was not nearly enough. It wasn't fair, they should have taken him, his life, he would gladly trade it for hers. Whatever the price ,he would pay it to spend only another second with his child.

He finally understood his mothers fears, the hot blinding pain that ripped at his chest. The one feeling he would never wish upon another person. A part had been taken from him and no words could ever come close to describing the loss.

„Francis“ Mary’s confused tone momentarily pulled him from his own delirium and he stared at her in shock.

She closely regarded his face and the expression of pain must have been blatantly written upon it. Her eyes slowly wandered to the broken pieces of the rattle on the floor between them both and further to his shaking hands and the blood drenched cloth buried in his grip. He could see her expression falter and witnessed as the ground was pulled from under her feet. Her eyes suddenly felt dead and her mouth opened in a silent scream.

She shook her head and his own tears blurred her image. He could only make out the impact her racing breaths had on her figure. Her head still shook from side to side but she couldn't block out the drowning feeling, he could sense in his own heart.

„No“ he heard the tortured scream tear from Mary’s throat and the intensity of her own grief ripped him from his trancelike state.

She had escaped Cathrine’s arms, who had tried to shield her, and sank down to her hard floor. Her fingers scraped along the hard stone floor, searching to collect the parts of the broken rattle. She held the wooden petals in her trembling hands and pressed them closely to her chest as he saw her whole body tether forwards and back in a manic rhythm. The white shone threw the skin, stretching over her knuckles, and her hair obscured the view of her tear stricken face.

„Anne“ she wept her name and Francis had trouble to bare her broken cries.

Her chest cage rose and fell and the breaths she sought to drew in her lungs struggled to break through the curtain of tears. Cathrine had risen to her level, doing her best to calm Mary but no amount of pretty words or empty promises would ever bring her back. Nothing could compensate her loss. He understood, the pain reading havoc in her heart, he felt it as well.

What scared him more, was the feeling of numbness, settling over his body as he watched her weep on the ground before him. He was powerless. He might be King, the golden son, the chosen one, but no crowns or titles could help them now.

„I need a horse … I, I need to find her.“ Mary had suddenly rose from the floor.

Her eyes flew around the corridor aimlessly and her arms reached out for things only she could see. The biggest piece of the broken wood was still in her hand as her fist motioned through the air. Cathrine was right behind her, trying to catch her as Mary sought to make way for the other end of the corridor.

„Let go of me!“ she struggled against his mother’s grasp. „She is still alive, I know it.“ her arms pushed and pressed against Cathrine’s smaller stature without much success.

„I don’t think there is any point, hoping …“ the older woman tried to argue.

„I will look for her myself. I will find her, I know I will.“ she now looked directly at him and the plea in her bloodshot eyes tore at his shattered heart. „Please, Francis.“ her resistance against Cathrine’s stronger arms seized and the desperate expression of hope and pain finally broke his own paralyses.

„You will freeze to death out there.“ he weakly retorted.

She gaped at him, her bare feet slouching across the ice cold floor as she had left her slipper several steps behind.

„I will go.“ he decided and the surge of hope in her eyes filled his chest.

„This is madness. You’re the King, you can’t simply leave on such a reckless endeavor.“ his mother protested as she let go of Mary, hurrying to his side.

„No, no … you yourself said that the English have a hideout close by. I need to find her, mother please. If she is still out there, alive, I need to go.“ he shuddered at the thought of what he might find. „I love her, she is my daughter.“ his voice failed him and the tears were burning in his eyes.

He saw Cathrine falter at the tone of desperation in his voice. He must have looked mad, with his bloodshot eyes and undoubtedly botchy skin and uncombed hair. His heart felt so empty and the thought of his daughter, freezing to death, abandoned in the snow, killed the last bit of happiness he had know. Her face was omnipresent before his eyes, never leaving his field of vision. It was almost as if she was encouraging him to stand up, to fight the pain and find her.

„There is a small cottage, several hours’ ride along the river. But Francis, I beg of you, don’t do this. Don’t throw away your life.“

But he completely disregard the second part of her plea. Cathrine didn’t understand, there was no life left without her. This, he must do. He had never felt more certain about anything in his life. She was out there, somewhere and she needed his help. She was his to protect and he would not forsake hid duties as her father, not when he had a choice.

-

The horse had been readied in minutes and no number of his mother’s desperate attempts at convincing him to stay had any influence on him in the slightest. It had never been this easy, ignoring his mother’s misguided wishes.

Cathrine kissed both his cheeks, lingering with her hand caressing his jaw. Just before he pushed her away to mount the horse, he stilled and caught her eyes one last time.

„The execution“ he swallowed and tried to disguise his words from Mary. „Do it whenever you see fit, you know what to do.“

Cathrine slowly nodded in response and reached for his hands, gently squeezing it in her own. Her gaze seemed warmer than usual and he glimpsed actual tears shining in the corners of her eyes. She was afraid too, he realized. She stood to loose her first born child, just as he did.

„Come back with her, come back to me.“ Mary clung to his shoulders. „Promise me Francis.“ he felt her nails digging into the fabric of his coat and he drew her closer.

With his nose buried in her hair, he inhaled the familiar scent of her one last time, cherishing it in his heart. He felt the shaking of her limbs with her body pressed so tightly against his and there was nothing he would rather do than take away her fears. His hand caressed the outline of her waist and he did his best to blink away the forming tear.

They had wasted enough time crying and his strength would be needed elsewhere if he was to find Anne. He felt the weakness in Mary’s body, her skinny figure and tired muscles. It was his duty now, to protect her to bring back what was theirs

„I love you.“ he whispered against her hair and buried his nose in the crook of her neck. „I will bring her back, I promise.“

The kiss he pressed to her lips lingered for several moments and neither wished to break the spell. But he drew away and she nodded in encouragement when her heavy brown eyes met his. She had fought so much for them both. For their daughters life, when birth had almost taken them both from this world, from him. For their chance at the happy ever after, their child versions had dreamed of. She had done so much and it was his turn to save them, his duty to them both.

He swung his legs across the horse’s back and pressed his heels into its sides. The animal’s response was instant. She was not his preferred horse but she would do for now, a sturdy build that should allow him to cover great distances.

The gates rattled closed behind him and when he turned on last time, it was Mary’s face, lurking through one of the gaps, a silent ‚I love you‘ on her lips. Her fingers were clenched around the wooden frame and she remained there till he turned his head and spurred his horse forward.

He raced alongside the lake, southwards. The water was already hidden beneath a layer of almost translucent ice. The temperatures where colder than he had first anticipated as the north winds carried the cooler air over the coast of France. The first flakes of snow sank to the ground around him and lost themselves between the grass. His hair danced in the wind and he could feel the cold, penetrate his clothing. It wouldn't be long until his whole body would be covered in a layer of freezing fabric. But he didn't mind, not now when there were greater troubles waiting ahead.

The frozen ground sounded hard with every step the horse took and he sensed the stiffness creeping into his muscles. Somehow the discomfort helped, it made it feel more real. He was aware of the dangers and stupid risk he was taking. The pain was proof of his choice and impulsively offered sacrifice. This was not merely a dream, a nightmare he would wake from in the morning. This was their reality and the only way to change fate’s outcome was to take the reigns into his own hands.

Maybe his mother was right, maybe he would never return. She had sent guards out after him but they were hours behind and if it truly came to a fight with the English, his chances were more than slim. His sword was shielded by his side, bumping against his left leg with every movement of the horse beneath him but he knew that it could only defend him against so much. He most likely wouldn't even stand a fighting chance against an outnumbering group of attackers.

Thankfully, the early days of winter still allowed for some sunlight during the days and he was grateful for every last ray illuminating his way. He couldn’t imagine, ever finding his way in the dead of night. The trees and every curve of the river beside him, looked identical and he prayed that this was indeed the right path. The house, his mother had told him of, shouldn't be impossible to locate but even if he succeeded, there was still the strong possibility of not finding Anne there after all.

He tried to push the very real and realistic doubts he had in his mind away. They only made the whole task that much more unbearable. He needed to believe that this was the right thing to do, the wise choice to make. Her face would be waiting for him at the end, he convinced himself of that. He pictured her, smiling in his arms, and her little giggles he so adored.

The blood, he had banned it from his mind. He dared not consider the possibility of finding her insured or even worse, dead. No, her blue eyes would be filled with life and her skin would be untouched and aglow with a rosy colour. To hurt an innocent child, was a monstrosity he hoped not even the English were capable of. God may forgive many sins, but killing a child, a baby still, surely guaranteed an afterlife in the depths of everlasting hell.

The sun peaked through the sparse trees from the West, granting him a few last hours of light. The village growing bigger before him seemed mostly abandoned. The houses were dark and not a soul was to be seen in the streets. He slowed his horse to a trot and regarded the houses one by one as he passed by them.

His mother had spoken of a mill, close to the water’s edge and indeed he found a wooden wheel peaking through the gaps between two bridled walls. He stirred the horse towards the building, careful not to come too close. If they were truly in there hiding behind the rotten wood of the door at the back, he had be quiet. He dared not risk being discovered. After all, he was armed with only a sword and the guards were still too far behind him.

He carefully snuck closer to the crumbling wall of the mill, his finger gliding along the rough stone. His heart was racing in his chest and the echoes it sent with every beat, filled his ears. He held his breath and pressed one ear against the door. Thankfully the wood was already far enough gone to allow him to listen through the gaps.

He could definitely hear voices, arguing in some way, thought the sounds were too muffled to distinguish any sentences or even words. But he persisted, not willing to give in so soon. He remained, pressed against the door with his whole body, trying not to make a sound. He bit his lip in an effort to even suppress unnecessary breathing noises. The men inside the mill kept on babbling and he could make out the clinking of cups followed by galling laughter.

When there was nothing more to be heard, he slumped against the door with his back and buried his face in his freezing hands. Maybe they had been wrong and this had been a pointless endeavor all along. A wild goose chase after a ghost, long out of his reach. He squeezed his eyes shut and the disappointment and deafening hollowness in his heart won over. Seldom had he ever felt as helpless as in this moment. He literally stood with his back up against the wall and he dreaded admitting the inevitable. This was defeat and he would have to carry the news back to Mary.

He already recoiled at the thought of her tear filled eyes and the cries that had ripped from her throat. She would hate him, despise the empty hands he would return with and no words or actions could excuse the loss both had suffered.

The tears rolled from his eyes and he pressed his hand against his mouth, to swallow his sobs. His other arm was propped against the wall beside him and he slowly sunk in his knees. Thankfully the muddy ground was frozen hard beneath him and his fingers scratched down the cold stone. His back hit the wall and the overbearing weight of it all almost smothered him. This was the end, the moment he head dreaded since leaving the castles gates behind. He had failed, not only himself but Mary and Anne as well. Was this the life god granted them, an existence filled with nothing but sorrow and heart ache? His mind spun in circles and his thoughts aimlessly mixed before him. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore and he felt the darkness circling in on him. His last thoughts were images of Mary holding Anne in her arms and smiling at him with such sweetness the memory almost managed to numb the pain. His own lips curled into a weak smile and his head sunk back against the wall.

The loud bang almost mad him jump in his place and the wooden door collided hard with his body.

Chapter Text

He leaped out of the way, cowering behind the now opened door. A second later and the men, who were now mindlessly staggering through the empty alley, would have seen him. His heart hammered in his chest and the adrenaline, cursing through his veins, almost brought stars before his eyes.

The flesh covering his left shoulder throbbed with pain, as he had slammed against the hard stone behind him. Now, wedged between the mill’s wall against his back and the scabby wooden door covering him from the men’s view in the front, he did his best to catch his breath. The icy air streamed into his lungs, numbing his mouth and nose in passing. The backs of his boots scraped against the rough face of the stone bricks behind him and he dug his gloved fingers against the wall to keep as quiet as possible.

The sky was black and the moon and any stars one might have glimpsed in the sky were absent above him. He must have fallen asleep, sitting against the wall. A dim light and the fading colour of orange and rose were creeping up from horizon. He shivered and felt the ache in his muscles. Both his legs and lower back were throbbing from the sudden movement, when he had leaped out of the way. He silently cursed himself, he had been utterly careless to sink into deep sleep in this position. It dawned on a miracle that the men, whoever they were, hadn't yet seen him. He could hear the sounds of their boots on the frozen ground slowly fading into the distance and he carefully propped himself up against the wall.

If the men really were, who he suspected them to be, it was imperative that they didn’t discover him here, crouching behind a door. The fingers of his right hand slowly crept across his torso and carefully found the shaft of his sword. His grip tightened and he collected his thoughts. He would have to think of a plan, and quickly.

For now, the men had moved out of his view, behind the part, the door before him was obstructing. He could hear there slurred voices and audibly drunken laughter. The noise echoed through the empty alley and carefully tried to sneak an eyes out behind the door. He couldn’t understand what they were saying exactly, the words sounded foreigner but familiar. It was definitely not French and he concluded that they must be foreigners. The language, it wasn't Spanish or Italian, he knew enough of those languages to recognize that it sounded too harsh to be either. He focused his thoughts, no it wasn't one of the German dialects, the words weren't hard enough. It must be English, he concluded.

His heart seamed to skip several beats at the realization. He had actually found them, reached the hideout his mother had spoken of. It had to be them, the chances of meeting random English travelers or merchants at this hour, in this shabby mill where close to zero. His fist tightened around his sword and his heart hammered against his rib cage with every echoing beat.

What was he supposed to do? He had, since a young age been trained at the art of sword fighting and duels, but this was different. No one had ever thought to teach the future King the skill of hiding in the shadows and sneaking past enemy lines. Now that he stood here, alone and without any idea how to proceed, he regretted his gap of knowledge. His tutors and father alike had alway insisted on one on one duels, as it was the only honorable way to fight. In their eyes, cowardly hiding from one’s enemy and trying to outsmart them with cheap tricks was a dishonorable deed not befitting for a future king. Those kinds of tasks where to be left for guards and hired knives. They were the ones to slash men’s throats in the dead of night and assassinate any unwelcome foes. After all, there was no honor to be had in stabbing the blade into one’s opponent’s unsuspecting back.

He would practical hear his fathers words, his hard voice screaming from the realm of heavens. ‚A true man faces his enemy and fights.‘ Henry had uttered it in a fit of anger as Francis had never been the keenest when it came physical confrontations. He had in no way been bad or clumsy with swords - on the contrary he greatly appreciated the beauty and art worked into every single blade - but he would always pail in comparison to his older brother. Bash had been a natural, he had spent days hunting in the woods and could out maneuver any man, at least with a sword. Politics, talks of strategy and spending had always been reserved for Francis. He had been sheltered and kept hidden at court. His pure royal blood had been his greatest value to both France and his parents. No adventures or spontaneous visits to Paris, not an hour unaccompanied by either guards or his mother. Bash had been free to roam the woods or the rest of the word, for what Henry had cared. He had been jealous, had envied his brother’s freedom but after having tasted it himself the allure had faded. Being forced out of choices, forced from Mary’s side for, what they had called, his own safety, had drawn up a different kind of prison entirely. This time the walls hadn't been placed to keep him inside but as far away form the one thing he had desired most.

In the end his brother’s skills with blades had not helped Bash on the new playing field, he had found himself upon. Surrounded by noble lords, in velvet slippers instead of muddy boats, and armored with scrolls of parchment instead of swords, he had looked utterly out of place. A wild animal confined in a golden palace where rumors would drown out any truth and the gossip could prove as deadly as a freshly sharpened blade.

Maybe Bash was already gone, save in a place far from anyone’s reach. He dearly wished his brother the best for his next life. Too many mistakes had been made in this one, some to awful to take back. It hadn't been his fault, Francis knew that. Mary had been the one to pressure him into marriage and the crown but still the feeling of resentment lingered. The kiss at the lake, that one short moment, which had brought the walls raveling down around him. His brother had loved Mary, maybe not as deeply as he himself but it had been there all along. And maybe if it hadn't been for the child, his child, Mary would have opened her heart to him. The thought made him shudder.

Anne, his child, he loved her more than anything in this world. This was a sin he could attribute to Bash. It had surely been no coincidence, the morning after his death sentence had been declared, she had gone missing from her crib. Bash had conspired with the English to keep the French throne and as a result, Anne was gone. A sudden surge of angered flamed through his body and the tiny hairs along his arms and spine rose in accordance. If he couldn’t save her, he would never forgive his brother for his actions. What baffled him most was the fact that Bash must still believe Anne to be his, and still he had sought to kidnap his own child. It disgusted Francis beyond words and he felt the emotions swallowing him. A tear escaped onto his cheek and he only know realized the build up of liquid filling his eyes. Hastily, he dabbed his face dry and bit the inside of his cheeks, focusing his reeling mind.

He had to move. It might be reckless, but he didn’t really have any other choice. If he stayed here, behind the door they were bound to find him and escaping back to his horse was out of the question. She was here, she had to be and there was no fiber in his body ready to give up on this chance. Here in the cottage, just behind the wall, he convinced himself to the truth of his words, repeating them over and over in his head. All he had to do was turn from behind his hiding spot and look. His heart raced and the beats sent the tips of his fingers pulsing against his tightly fitted gloves.

Carefully, he peaked from behind the door, to find the alley empty. The men must have made their way deeper into the small village. Maybe this would give him more time, a chance at least. He tip toed around the door and found the room behind it empty at first glance.

There were a couple of chairs crowded around a feeble looking table and heaps of weapons and armor laid crowded around them. He narrowed his eyes and tried to adjust to the dim light in the stuffy room. There was only a single spare candle illuminating the tiny chamber and its shadows ghosted across the narrow walls.

With his hand still around the shaft, he drew the swords a couple of inches in preparation and nearly stumbled backwards when he made out a figure at the far back. A man sat hanging over his stool in a corner and light snores sounded from his direction.

Francis swallowed, trying to hold onto the surge of braveness that had overcome him earlier. A loose floorboard screeched beneath his boot and he held his breath, listening for the man’s rhythmic breathing. He was still soundly asleep as far as Francis could tell and he took the chance to carefully search the rest of the room with his eyes.

There were boxes and bags scattered across the floor, filled with all kinds of supplies and food. Shields stood stacked against one wall and the corresponding swords lay to their feet. He quietly stepped over multiple blades and was only meters away from the sleeping English man when his eyes fell on a small bundle.

His heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat. The bundle looked familiar, the same type of fabric the bloodied rattle had been wrapped in. And indeed when he looked closer he could see the pale colour of a baby’s face. It looked utterly surreal, too pale and unmoving. He froze for a moment uncertain what to do, when Anne opened her eyes beneath him. Both pairs of almost identical blue eyes starred at one another and he could sense the child’s confusion.

Another heartbeat passed and her cry ripped him from his temporary paralyses. Without a second thought he grabbed for her, pressing the baby tightly to his chest as he heard the man behind them stir to consciousness.

-

„Kenna“ in the pitch black cell he only recognized her from the distinct sound her heels made against the stone floor. „What in god’s …“ but she cut him off.

„Shhh, we have to be quick.“ she whispered and he felt her pull at his arm.

With all the might in her small body she had dragged, half shoved him from the hard wooden bed. His bare feet hit the ground and the cold burned like scalding fire. Exerting a heavy groan he lifted his body into a standing position and felt the ground shift beneath his feet. He had spent more than a fortnight confined to his cell, well below the castles halls and the strain those days had left on him, became visible in his feeble tries at carrying his own weight. His arms and head felt heavy like dense pieces of lead pulling him back to the ground. He felt himself stumbling into Kenna’s surprised arms, their bodies collided in an unmannerly fashion and it was all she could do to keep them upright.

Why was she here, had she come to save him or was she the angel already reaching her tempting arms from near heaven? It might as well be a dream, the sane part of his mind tried to argue. She had no business being here in his cell and the longer he pondered her presence, the more unlikely a sudden salvation seemed. He hadn't even spoken to her in weeks, they had once been close, friends, the likes only the young Mary had come close to. But the daily burdens the crown had lain upon him hadn’t only poisoned his marriage, no he had lost all the people he had once held closest. That loss had pained him more than the freedom he had left behind with his youth. He could tolerate the hours upon hours he had spent in stuffy privy chambers, and the constant company of men twice his age, if only the people, his heart truly yearend for in the lonely hours spent in his empty bed, had stayed by his side.

He didn’t blame them, not really. Everybody loved the King, who successfully sat his throne, the man who stirred his county to peace and prosperity. But he wasn't that man, not by a long shot. The heavy crown had never quit seemed to fit his head. It had been as if even the vain piece of jewelry had forsaken him from the first second. The crown would fit his brother marvelously, he could almost see Francis before him. The crown resting perfectly upon his golden curls and every of his brother’s movements oozed respect. He would excel atop the French throne and in truth Bash was relieved to hand on the burden.

The months since his father’s death had felt like pure torture and every time he had looked into his wife’s eyes, the hollow cold would make him flinch. She despised him, maybe hated him even. The touch of her skin, her delicate hands and sweet smelling hair, he longed for it still. The past week, he had spent his nights shivering under a meager ripped blanked, while his mind had tried to find the welcomed nothingness of sleep. And she had visited him in his dreams, almost every night. Sometimes she would kiss him and hold his hands until the morning while other times her eyes had been filled with inexplainable hatred and her words had cut deeper than any knives ever could.

Those nights had been the worst, he had woken to a cold and empty cell with the last remaining tears lingering on his bridled skin. It was in these moments that even the prospect of the warming fires, hell was promised to offer the undeserving, seemed a better choice than his present miserable existence. It was the torture and unnecessary prolonging of his death, he despised, not the act itself.

He had long ago come to the conclusion that this life would not carry him into old age. The dreams, that had filled both his and Mary’s heads had been full of false promises and lies. It had been so innocent in the beginning, her simple wish to save his brother’s life. He had believed it then, the prophecy, almost welcomed it. Mary had caught his eyes, the very first time she had stepped into his life as a small girl. Those strong brown eyes and her fierce spirit, he had always admired her for it. He had loved her, still did, but it had never meant to be. Sometimes hearts were supposed to break for reasons unknown to the mortal. Their story had never been meant for the books of history. The prophecy had given him hope in a time where the prospect of their marriage had been the only thought on his mind. He had dreamed of being the husband at her side, the man she could trust in, who would gift her the his unconditional love. He would be her prince, her knight in shining armor.

If Nostradamus’ words had been true, he wasn't so certain anymore. He had advised Mary that the only possible way to save the man she had always loved was to marry another, and she had done just that. He had welcomed her with open arms, eager to exert whatever little love she might give him. He could be content with anything as long as he had her, a fairytale only a misguided child could believe. She might have loved him but never in the way his heart had done each of its beats for her. Mary still saw him as a friend to share her burdens with, a brother to entrust with the burden of her secret love for another.

In Francis eyes, and maybe even in her own, he was the person, who had destroyed their love. The resentment in his brother’s eyes, the pain of betrayal, they had swallowed him. The hollow anger Francis’ words had reeked of and the awful sound they had created in his own ears. He had known all along, the real truth behind Mary’s actions, the lies she had told his brother. And Francis truly had ever right to despise him for keeping her secrets. He may have belied the seer’s words but his brother had had a right to the truth, he saw that now. It had been so foolish and arrogant of him, the thought that he was the one keeping Mary save. She had withered at his side, faded in the long shadow he had unknowingly cast across her.

As much as his dreams might still long for her, the prospect of a life at her side seemed unthinkable now. Too much and happened and maybe time had finally brought the proof, all three of them had longed for. He had loved her, and there was no reality in which he could ever forsake that commitment his heart still felt towards her. But shallow love was nothing without trust and understanding, it was all but an empty shell filled with lies and guilt. He had let her go the moment he had agreed to the English’s plan, a desperate act, he most certainly wasn't proud of. He had done it out of pure self serving survival, the hope that maybe they could still pull him from destiny’s reach, cling to the last threads of his pitiful life. He had betrayed her, them both, one last time and the pain drove the tears into his eyes. He had been desperate and not the brave man he had alway made himself out to be. This would be his punishment, the flaming fire his pagan routs condemned him to. He welcomed the flames and even the excruciating pain felt like one last chance to repent the sins his mortal body had committed.

Would Mary weep for him at his funeral, would his little brother pay him his last respects? He would be gone by then but the thought of the two people he had valued most in his life, despising him even beyond death seemed to crush the last burning flames in his chest. They might never forgive him and he would have to accept that fate.

He only hoped that his death would bring them the comfort both had yearend for too long. If god would grant him one last wish before the gates of heaven and hell, he would plea for their love, the life both deserved. Their peace would be his reward. Time had proven that their love had been gifted from the gods’ themselves, an indestructible force one must bow before.

The had run from their fate for more than a year, sought to flee the inescapable. Nostradamus’ prophecy might have been wrong and he prayed that Francis might live a long and fulfilled life aside Mary. But even if the words held a spark of truth, he understood now, there were worse things than death. If all that had been meant for them were few years before his brother’s passing so be it but the time they would spend with one another would be worth it. He pitied them, Mary, his brother and himself, if only one had come to the conclusion sooner, it might have spared them much unneeded pain and suffering on all sides.

With a bitter sentiment he recognized that maybe one of them had. Francis might have never believed in a seer’s half conscious words but his foolishly brave and self unnerving nature would have never allowed Mary to leave his side. He would have been relentless in their shared future together, even if it had meant his death. He knew it, as he himself was now glad to pay with his life for Mary’s happiness. But they hadn't told Francis, and it was almost humorous how Mary’s desperate tries to save Francis had brought them nothing but sorrow.

Now their wishes would be full filled, they would share their lives together, a better and brighter future.

„A better life.“ he hadn't noticed that he had spoken the words out loud.

His head was heavy upon Kenna’s hands and he was genuinely surprised that she was really here, holding him upright. His finger weakly scraped along the outline of her arms and all the strength seemed drained from his body. He couldn’t believe that there was another person, a real person and not just a dream, standing before him.

„Bash, listen to me.“ her hand ungently nudged his face as she urged his heavy eyes open. „We don’t have much time, the guards will be back soon, we have to go now!“

He slowly felt his head nodding at its own accord. She pulled at his arms and the force her body produced, forced him reluctantly out the opened door of his cell. The top of his head collided against the ceiling multiple times but the klicks of her heels before him didn’t stop. Her skirts ruffled against the moist walls as they hurried along the dark path. He had no idea what plan she was following and his mind was to numb to make the effort to care. A lifeless marionette, blindly following its master’s will, it was all he was capable of.

They hadn't gotten far when heavier steps sounded behind them. The men, most likely guards chasing after them, would catch them in seconds. But Kenna wouldn’t give up, the closer they came the more relentlessly she pulled at his arm. Only when the stronger arms grabbed him from behind, forcing both of them to stop did she give in.

„No, no, don’t take him.“ Kenna cried out in desperation but the guards didn’t so much as blink in response.

One of the man had caught her arm and was dragging her back into the corridor they had come from.

„No, let go of me!“ she screamed at kicked at the man but he was almost twice her size and left her no chance.

In one last desperate attempt to at least save her, he fought back against the man, who pressed him against the wall. His elbows found the man’s stomach and he could hear an exclamation of pain in response but the arms around him were too strong and wouldn't relent. He helplessly watched as the one guard dragged Kenna away and his own hands were bound at his back.

He expected the man behind him to bring him back to his cell or maybe even execute him on the spot but nothing of the sort happened. The distant torches had given them at least a glimmer of light in the underground tunnel but suddenly all the light faded away his eyes closed before the world around him. There was nothing left, nothing but impenetrable darkness.

-

The fire reared on the front lawn and its flames mirrored on the frozen water of the lake. Shadows danced across the castle’s stone and the movements were bustling with doom. The night was pure and the sky unoccupied but still, not a single star could be seen on the canopy. A howling wind drove through the trees, eliciting eery sounds. Ghosts were dancing around them, brought to life by the burning stake.

The pyre, set directs before her baloney, slowly disappeared in the sea of flames. It wasn’t the freezing air or threatening flames that scared her. No, the unbroken silence made the hairs on her skin stand and she shivered despite her thick coat.

She was powerless, forced to watch as a bystander as the man, she had sworn her life to, faced the death brining flames. Her fingers clutched around the fabric, she hadn't let out of her grasp for hours. They were all gone, and she would be left in this cursed place on her own.

When the screams finally reached her ears, a single tear escaped her eye. The sounds were gut wrenching and the terror filled her head. A man crying out in utter agony and then silence again.

Chapter Text

38.

She was somewhere in a place between sleep and consciousness, permanently shifting from one state to the other. The things before her eyes grew bolder and more frightening with every hour she spent hidden under multiple layers of blankets. It was impossible to determine whether the images were real or just products of her fears and sorrow. Dark shadows and hushed voices, whispering in the winds reached her ears. The awful screams filled her head and the bright orange flames danced around and around in endless circles. Whenever she blinked the darkness behind her shut lids was no different to what she found when she opened them again.

The weight of her own blankets seemed to crush her underneath them but she didn’t move. She hadn't even lifted so much as a finger after the maids had helped her into bed. Her hands still tightly clung to the piece of fabric, bloodied by her daughters blood, and her fists were pressed against the cool skin of her chest. The silence in her chambers worked to suffocate her mind and she concentrated with all her strength on any noises she might make out in the dead of night. Nothing, only more silence and even the sounds of her own chest pulling and releasing air in shallow breaths seemed distant.

For the first few hours, Bash’s face had been omnipresent and the tears had lingered on the dry skin of her cheeks. His incredibly green eyes had borne into chest and the expression on his face had been one somewhere between sadness and the promise of love, they had once both clung to. She had lost him and still his presence seemed so tauntingly close as she just had to reach out with her hands to find the familiar touch of his skin and the thick hair crowning his head.

She had muttered her apologies than, over and over, had repeated them for what seemed like hours, and maybe it had been. To atone for the things she had cost him, them both. But to her dismay his face had failed into the all encompassing darkness. His features had disappeared in the smoke of the burned down fire and she had unsuccessfully tried to call him back. Maybe that was what frightened her most, the fact that she couldn’t find him any longer, she was unable to see his face or hear the voice, she knew to be his.

The tears had seized and her face had lain emotionless against her soft pillow. She had felt so alone, separated from all the people she knew to be in the castle with her. Someone had drawn a wall up around her and she found herself isolated in her own mind. The nurse had told her that this was the shock and mourning of the people she had lost, that this was only temporary. But she felt trapped in the bed she had shared with Francis and her husband alike, suddenly finding it to big for just one person. Everything felt out of proportion and the dim light peaking through the windows seemed unreachably far away.

Then she heard them, the wails of a child. The cries sounded exactly like Anne’s when her daughter’s demanding voice had ripped her from her sleep countless nights. What she wouldn't give for one single moment with her child. She might still be out there, waiting for Francis. The uncertainty weighed on her heart, what if she would never know, what if no one returned? The idea haunted her and she tried her best to cling to the bits of hope she still held inside. Just like with Bash, Anne’s eyes had hovered before her eyes but soon faded into the nothingness she feared most of all.

The suns slowly rose, drawing long shadows across the carpet and lounge before the hearth. She could see the little dust particles dancing in the glimmering light and the snowflakes mirroring their movements outside the frosted glass. Her eyes wandered through her room, inspecting every floorboard and painting on the walls. She sought to find something, anything that might help her, give her hope. She lingered on the desk, the polished wooden surface reflected the morning sun and the vase, which had once held the wild flowers Francis had given her, was nothing but empty glass. Her teeth nudged over her bottom lip and it was only when she tasted the blood in her mouth, that she realized she had exerted too much power.

In what might have been an act of mercy, the handle of the door moved and a person carefully swept inside her bed chamber. She blinked multiple times to persuade her eyes to focus on the blond locks of hair and dark green dress tiptoeing to her bedside.

„Mary“ a hand carefully rubbed her shoulder. „Are you awake?“

„Yes“ it barely even sounded like a spoken word but she instantly found a tone of understanding in Amélie’s worried eyes.

„How are you feeling?“ Mary only weakly nodded in return. „Here, I brought you a coup of tea.“

Amélie placed the steaming hot mug in her fingers, careful not to spill any of the liquid. The hot surface took her by surprise but instead of flinching back, she cherished the feeling of warmth against her own cold fingers.

„I know that what happened yesterdays was … awful.“ Amélie pushed a strand of hair from her face and intertwined her fingers in her lap. „But there is something else. Cathrine didn’t want to burden you any further yesterday but …“

„But what?“ she slowly sat up under the covers, propping her back against an unnecessarily huge stack of pillows.

Already she pictured the worst. Was Amélie here to bring her the news of Francis empty handed return or maybe even worse? The anxiety made her heart quicken and she was desperate for the lady to continue.

„There was an incident, just before the … the execution.“ Amélie visibly struggled to get the words across. „Kenna, she tried to help Bash flee the castle. They were caught down in the tunnels.“

„What?“ the idea seemed simply ludicrous.

„I am so sorry.“ she reached for her hand, gently stroking the back of her hand. „I would have waited to tell you, but we don't have much time. They want to send her back to Scotland before the sun sets, Mary.“

„I don’t understand, how could this be possible.“ she set the steaming coup on the small table beside the bed and straightened her back. „And who in god’s name are ‚they‘?“

„It is international courtesy to not prosecute foreign citizens … that is why she must return to Scotland.“

„I know that, I mean I don't see why Kenna would have ever done something so reckless.“ Sure her friend was strong spirited and sometimes overstepping lines she shouldn't have. But this didn’t fit.

„Please, if you will allow it the guards will let her see you. They are waiting outside.“ Amélie nodded towards the door she had herself entered through. „I thought it best to tell you first in private.“

„Yes“ Mary agreed but the knot forming in her throat grew uncomfortable large. It felt surreal, nothing seemed to make sense any longer.

Kenna was flanked by two armed men, she had never before seen. She looked dreadful, her skin as pale as that of a corpse and her normally neat hair was falling from her head in unruly strands.

„Leave us.“ Mary climbed from her bed and shot the guards angry looks, who momentary vanished behind the door.

„I am so sorry.“ Kenna sobbed and threw herself into Mary’s arms. „I am so sorry, Mary. I never meant to …“ but her words were swallowed by another sob.

In her own still frail state she clung to Kenna, just as much as her friend clung to her own body. Both tightly knotted there arms around the other and Mary smelled the damp dungeons and filth in Kenna’s hair. Her friend’s body was shaking with every intake of breath and she closed her eyes. This was not really happening, was it? Kenna had been her friend the majority of her life, had helped her through the most challenging months. When everyone else had forsaken her, for reasons she was to blame herself, Kenna had remained at her side. She had never questioned her Queen’s and friends decisions alike, she had been the truest ally Mary had ever known in her still young life.

„I am so sorry.“ Kenna repeated it over and over even when Mary tried to calm her.

Soon, much too soon the door opened again and the two men from before closed in on them.

„No, you can’t take her from me.“ she refused to let go and Kenna herself only clung tighter to the fabric of Mary’s night gown.

„Tell me why.“ Mary managed to direct at her friend, before they were forced apart. „Why would you do something like this?“ the desperation rang in her voice.

Kenna stared at her with wide eyes for a brief moment before weakly opening her mouth. „She told me to, Cathrine, she told me to …“ but she was cut off when the guards managed to drag her out the door.

Mary was left standing in the middle of her room, unable to make any sense of her friends last words. What on earth could Catrine have to do with this? She was lost and Amélie’s pitiful eyes didn’t help to clear her confusion. If anything, the blond girl’s understanding face only encouraged her desperation and anger. She balled her hands into fists and her barefoot toes bore against the cold floor.

The fire was rising inside her, the strength she had so desperately searched for in the last hours. Her body felt alive with the desperate wish to do something, anything at all. She couldn’t simply sit in this castle and patiently wait for Francis’ return any longer. There must be something she could do, and even if her efforts were useless she needed to try.

„Inform the stables, we’re leaving and I don’t wish to discuss this.“ she almost snapped and Amélie slightly flinched at her sharp tone.

-

The fresh air felt ice cold on any bare patch of skin but it made her feel more alive. And this was most definitely an improvement to the stuffy rooms she had previously confided herself to. The horse was accelerating beneath her and her skirts and scarves were trailing behind her as they moved farther and farther from the castle. They had accomplished nothing yet but the simple act of stepping outside her usual boundaries felt like a bird finally opening its wings. She felt the air rush past her and only pressed her thighs tighter against the horse’s belly.

Of course this might be reckless, she was the the Scottish Queen and riding into the wilderness with only another lady and two guards to accompany her. Cathrine had tried to stop her, using all the charm and sweetness she could rally but Mary had refused to waver. Especially after Kenna had mentioned the woman’s name, her suspicions, when it came to Cathrine, had returned to the forefront of her mind. She was in a way glad to leave all of that behind her, even if it was just for a few hours.

A layer of snow already covered the frozen ground and thick white flakes were falling around them. Every breath from her lungs resulted in a cloud forming in the cold air. She could sense the horse paw its feet beneath her and Amélie looked petrified beside her. The girl was not as experienced on horseback as she herself and the fear was clearly visible in her tense posture. Amélie’s fingers were tightly curled around the reigns and her feet clung to the horse’s middle.

„Just breathe, horses can sense fear.“ Mary tried to assure her.

Amélie let out a breath and both horses found a common pace. They circled around the castle’s estate until they reached the fringes of the lake. It was an enormous body of water, easily stretching multiple miles beyond the crown’s lands. The snow was spraying around them, kicked through the air by their horses. There were still some lonely blades of grass visible through the white and every now and then a tree would dispose itself of the snow clogging its branches as a branch shot upwards.

Cathrine had reluctantly advised them to follow the river which originated from the lake but they still had several miles to go until they would reach the stream. The light was slowly dim as the sun hid behind a thick layer of grey clouds and a ghostly glow spread over the lake. The water was already well frozen and different track marks from wolves and other deer were imprinted in the snow. They kept close to the tree line along the water’s edge to avoid being seen. The Scottish Queen alone with two guards and another helpless lady was surely an easy target.

She wiped the snow from her face and felt the water trickle through her clothing. Sitting on horse back was far from comfortable but it was almost as if all the pain and discomfort had been blocked from her brain. It might simply be the cold, numbing her nerves and the patches of skin, exposed to the freezing air. There was a fire alive deep inside her, an undeniable impulse. The farther they got from the castle the hotter it burned, a torch lighting the bleak path before them.

They had to be out there, they had to be alive, she wouldn't allow herself to think anything else. Francis would return and Anne would be safely tugged in his arms. The image manifested before her eyes and his warm eyes followed her through the snow.

‚I love you. I will bring her back.“ his voice echoed in her ears. He had promised her and Francis was not one to break a promise easily. She held onto his last words, repeating them over and over like a prayer. The memories was all she could cling to and she wouldn't allow herself to loose even the last part of him still with her. He was out there fighting for them and she would never forget to honor his sacrifice. Francis had offered up his life without a second thought, just as she had alway known he would.

It had been her reason fro not telling him of the prophecy sooner. He wouldn't have cared about his own survival, if his death was the price for their short-lived happiness, he would have gladly paid it. She couldn't loose him, not then and not now. It was selfish, wanting to keep him, but her heart would break beyond repair if his seized beating.It would kill her. She already knew the pain of letting him go from her arms once and the idea of loosing him for good gutted her.

No, he would come back. Tomorrow they would wake in the same bed and know Anne safely between them. They would be the family they had always dreamed of, their own little version of heaven. Opening her eyes to find his arms wrapped around her middle as they kept each other warm under the sheets. The sweet kisses and carefree giggles, it would all be theirs. A castle full of little royal as he had once so eloquently put it. They would have more children, an heir for both their countries, once old age took them to god’s realm.

„Look“ Amélie was pointing a gloved finger at a something off in the distance.

It took Mary a few moments to find her way back into the present. The beautiful dreams faded and left her with the snow covered view from atop her horse. The white flakes clung to her hair and her coat’s once red colour had faded to white. She squinted her eyes at the direction, Amélie had been pointing at. There was a dark silhouette off in the distance, no bigger than a mouse from their perspective.

It was moving rapidly in their direction.

„It’s on the ice?“ Mary thought to glimpse the figure on the lake.

The lake was still beside them and the frozen ice apparently thick enough to carry a person or animal, she couldn't be sure. Was it Francis, had he found his was back to her? Was Anne with him? Her heart fought against the confinements of her rib cage and the thought made her mind dwindle.

She urged her horse forward, forcing it to quicken its pace. Amélie was struggling to keep up with her pace, calling out behind her. „Mary, we don’t know who it is.“

But she didn’t care, not when the chance of finding them was so close before her grasp. The figure grew before her over the frozen lake and she was now close enough to make out a horse. She spurred her own animal harder and her skirts were fluttering through the air behind her. The wind presses the loose locks from her face and she felt her heart accelerating with ever step the horse under her took.

It had to be him, it had to. Francis face would appear before her and she would fall into his arms. Her heart almost stopped when she realized that the horse racing towards her was without a rider. It couldn’t be. The mare’s colour and the nut brown saddle were too familiar. The golden ‚F‘ she knew to be engraved on it’s right side were the undeniable proof of its owner.

The air was pulled from her lungs and the tight knot grew in her throat. She felt the tears blurring her vision, as they mixed with the snow before her. The horse slowed beneath her and she felt every thump echoing hard through her body. She had been so sure, without a doubt in her mind that it had been him. The disappointment jolted through her body and left her gasping for air.

They brought their horses to a stand at the lake’s edge. She was ready to give up, sink into the snow and close her tired eyes. Her knees sank against the floor and she felt her head grow heavy.

„Mary“ Amélie shrieked beside her and she spun around.

This time it was a person, definitely a person. She struggled to her feet, her hands seeking support with the nearest tree. It was hard to see, with the snow falling around them, but there was someone struggling over the ice. The person had escaped the shielding tree line onto the ice only meters from their position.

Before she could do as much as gasp, two more figures followed the first. They had their swords already drawn and the person before them drew hers as well. There was a moment of anticipation before all three charged at each other. The distinct sound of blade clashing into another rang from the frozen lake and she tried to make out any detail to identify the men. They were too fast, rushing past one another and it all blurred before her eyes.

They kept circling each other but the two man seemed both set on the first who defended himself against despite the uneven fight. It wasn't until one of the two approaches slipped and fell on the ice that the first one had a chance to pierce him with his blade. The man fell to the ground, clawing at his stomach.

The other two continued in a duel and both moved closer to where Mary and her companions where hiding, sheltered by the trees. Her breath stilled in her chest when she caught the wisp of blond hair as the first man spun around It was him, the realization shot through her body like a bold of fire. Francis struggled just meters from her. His opponent had almost to heads on him and she could see him stumbling backwards as he ducked from the blows of the antagonizer’s sword.

He was at a clear disadvantage and his left arms was busy clutching a bundle against his chest. She wasn't sure of to cheer out in joy or cry in despair at knowing her daughter in his arms. He had found her, actually brought their daughter back. But with a tingle of fear that ran down her spine, she recognized that this fight was far from over. They were both just out of her grasp and once again she could do nothing but watch and pray. How could he possibly win against a man, who outnumbered him both in size and strength? Her heart seemingly dropped from its place in her chest and her finger tips grew weirdly numb.

„No, somebody help him!“ she struggled closer to the ice. „Help the king!“

She meant to run towards him, to help him in some way. But her own guard caught her before she could reach the lake. „Your Majesty, it is too dangerous. The ice, it is not save.“

It made no sense, if it could carry a horse and fully armored men, why shouldn't she be able to walk on it. She struggled against their grasp but they wouldn't relent. Someone had to help him, she felt the panic welling in her chest and her knees struggled under her.

With a tortured cry she witnessed Francis stumbling backwards and falling against the ice. The other man rose his swords, ready to deliver the final blow. With what bordered on a miracle Francis managed to position his sword between his own chest and his attacker, driving the blade into the attacker’s body.

The cry of relief was already on Mary’s tongue when an awful cracking noise sounded through the air and she tried to ignore its fatal implication.

„Francis, no.“ she kicked against the guards holding her and in their moment of surprise she managed to break free.

„Mary“ he turned his head in her direction and she met his eyes.

The expression of sorrow and regret was set deep in his gaze and she felt her heart crumble. The tears shone in his eyes and he whispered the three words one last time. She might have been too far away to hear the last sounds of his voice but her eyes clung to each movement of his lips. He still stood there unmoving and for a moment everything around them seemed to slow. Her own tears blurred her vision but she could nevertheless make out the look of blatant fear in Francis eyes.

Again the sound of breaking ice disrupted the eery silence and before she could so much as blink his figure disappeared in the depths of the lake.

„No“ it was no more than a tortured cry of despair and she could far away hear the shriek of her own panic filled voice.

She climbed over the dead men’s bodies and found Anne lying oh the otherwise empty ice before her. Francis must have somehow managed to place her on the ice before he broke through.

„Francis“ she tried to call out for him again. „Francis“ she sobbed her fingers reaching for the empty space before her.

But the only remainder of his presence were the stray bubbles raising to the water’s surface.

Chapter Text

Epilogue

„Mary“ he called out to her.

Time froze for a single moment as she caught his blue eyes. He stared at her with a mix of deep sorrow and pain and the fear paralyzed her own heart. The smile he gave her was almost an apologetic one and her stomach recoiled.

He had accepted his fate, to willingly give his life for his daughter and hers. ‚I love you‘ he mouthed the words and she could do nothing but stare at his face with tears swimming in her eyes. This couldn't be it, this was not the end she had dreamed for them. His death wouldn't be the end of their excruciating journey, this couldn’t be the reward for all their sacrifices. No god was this cruel or unforgiving.

„Francis“ she cried out in absolute terror.

He tried to keep the smile on his lips but the tears won over and his face turned into an expression of sadness. Why didn’t he fight, why wouldn't he move? She wanted to shake him, to force him off the ice, to do something. He would break through any second but he did nothing but stare at her, as if to memorize ever little detail of her face for the very last time.

She wouldn't let them take him from her, not again. The tightness in her chest increased as her muscles strained to keep her upright put the excruciating pain was not one of physical origin. It was as if an essential organ, a part of her body had been ripped from her flesh. The hole felt unbridgeable and made her completely powerless.

The awful cracking sound, she had dreaded to hear, drowned out any other noise. And as the ice crumbled beneath him, he used his last moments above the freezing water to ease Anne onto the save ice. He fell and she felt everything crumble to ash and rubble inside her. She had expected it to be more dramatic, had thought to see him fall in slow motion, maybe even hear his screams. But he was gone in the blink of an eye, without another sound the lake had swallowed him up.

The silence felt harder than any screams or the sounds of breaking ice. No one moved and she felt herself shaking as her nails dug into the cold bark of the tree to her right. Her lungs were squeezed dry of all air and she could sense the darkness approaching.

Then a cry echoed through the air, closely followed by another one. Anne was still on the ice and her screams had broken the silence. Her daughter was still there, only meters from where she was standing, cowered against a tree.

She scrambled forward, almost tripping over her own skirts as she hurried onto the ice. Amélie and the guards called out behind her but she ignored their warnings. Even if the ice should break under her weight, she did not fear the cold waters which would hold her certain death.

„Francis“ it sounded more like a plea than an actual scream and the tears broke her voice.

„Francis“ she repeated his name over and over, ringing more desperate every time.

But he wasn't there and when she stumble towards the hole in the ice, she could see nothing but pitch black water. She carefully scooped Anne into her arms and sank down next to the hole.

„Francis, please … please don’t leave me here.“ she sobbed and pressed Anne tighter against her chest.

Her fingers ghosted over the baby’s deep red cheeks. She was so cold, she felt so incredibly cold in her arms and her cries had stilled. Mary felt herself shaking as her body rocked forward.

„Francis, come back to me.“ she fought against the surge of tears drowning her voice. „You promised, you would come back to me.“

But when she looked at the water, the pale white face that rose to the surface, was drained of all life. The eyes stood white open and their blue colour seemed to leak into the surrounding water. They didn’t move, set on a point in the clouded sky above them. His mouth stood open and his lips were still curled into a silent scream of fear and panic.

„No“ she collapsed against the ice and everything faded to black. The eyes, his eyes, were haunting her, the moment of his death contained in their cold stare for eternity.

Nothing, there was nothing left.

„Mary“ someone was shaking her shoulders. „Wake up, Mary.“

The sudden light blinded her and she gasped out for air, as if it had been her drowning. The familiar room and bed she found herself in, confused her. No trace of the cold water and frozen lake, instead warm sheets and a fire in the hearth.

„It was just a dream, a nightmare, darling.“ fingers traced the line of her cheekbones and caressed her skin.

For a split second her body flinched, unable to cope with the sudden change of time and place. She had heard the voice before, countless times and it took her several moments to accept its reality. The fingers on her cheeks grew more insistent, drawing her face upwards and she resistantly complied, lifting her head from the feathered pillow.

„Francis“ the confusion welled through her body when she saw his face hovering so closely before her.

It was a mixture of joy at seeing his face, when she had thought him gone, and the pure shock of the absurdity of this situation. How could this be? She had seen his dead eyes and unmoving face, she remembered it distinctly. The ghostly white colour of his skin and dead stare.

But his eyes were bursting with warmth and his pupils dilated slightly when he inspected her with a clear sight of worry. His cheeks were full of colour and the fingers, cupping her face, were filled with warmth. He pushed some stray strands of hair from her face and the furrow between his brows depend with concern.

„You’er alive.“ she whispered and he laughed in relieve.

„Yes, yes, I’m alive.“ he smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. „I can prove it.“ he gave her a slight smirk and drew her closer into his arms.

He took her hand and positioned its palm directly over the spot on his chest above his heart. „Incase you should need a reminder.“

She bit her lip and allowed her body to melt against his, relishing the sound of a heart, beating relentlessly in his chest. He was still with her, in their shared bed, at her side.

Safely pressed against his chest, he memories came flooding back and she remembered. Her own screams had sounded so distant and Amélie had held her back with every ounce of strength the smaller girl had possessed. She had been helplessly watching as her guards had pulled the unconscious king from the water, dragging him from the hole in the ice. With Anne pressed against her chest she had almost fainted herself at seeing Francis’ empty and lifeless face. His curls had clung to his skin, which had taken on a eery blueish tone.

Somehow, she thanked god for it, the guards had managed to force the water from his body and his eyes had opened. He had been weak, so incredibly weak and it had clawed at her heart seeing him in such a state. The whole ride back, her fingers had been clenched around her own horse’s reigns, praying that he would make it back to the castle. She had heard Nostradamus’ words, they had rang in her ears, warning her of his death. And though she had sworn of the prophecy, its indications haunted her more than ever in those hours, fearing for his life.

It had taken several days for his strength to return and he was still weak by comparison. He had spent the majority of his days in their bed, reading and seldom meeting with his privy council and royal advisers. She had been at his side, helping where she could and, for the first time in her own reign as Queen of Scotland, she had taken over some of his duties as king. She was not a legitimate ruler to France, but the trust he had put in her seemingly had been enough to convince the high lords. At first, they had bowed hesitantly but as time had gone by, their own reservations against her had faded.

It had been harder than she had anticipated, prevailing over such a large number of people. Every lord or count had expected something different and in the beginning, finding the right compromise had been a hard challenge to master. There had been fights over land or inheritance brought before her and thankfully the council members had always offered their guidance.

She would return to their chambers with her head feeling like it was packed with wool and her whole body seemingly drained of all energy. But she had relished the scarce hours spent in bed with Francis, and Anne between them. All the politics and audiences had forced almost all her time away from her child and nothing felt better than swopping Anne from her crib after an excruciating day at work. The child would be filled with laughter and giggles at the sight of her mother. Some nights she would carefully open the door, to find both Francis and Anne asleep in the master bed. His arm would be gently wrapped around her small body while their chests rose and fell in union. Other times she had found him with Anne in his lap, reading her from the stack of paper that piled on the small table at his side of the bed. He would explain strategies of reforming the country, or legal documents concerning French subjects to the child. Anne in turn would only giggle and reach out to touch the scrolls with her tiny arms. She would make an excellent leader one day, Mary imagined. Her heart had almost burst with joy and love at seeing them both happy and alive before her.

Each hour she had spent away from him, she had still feared for his health, concerned that he might suddenly relapse. Thankfully nothing of that kind happened and almost a week ago, the court appointed doctor had assured them Francis had made a full recovery. Seeing the relief on his face had been gift enough, and he had gently kissed her then.

Every time she would see his face, the thankfulness of having him still here, at her side, overwhelmed her. After all they had been through, she would never again take anything for granted. Life was the most precious gift of all, especially when one realized, how quickly it could be taken away. A blink of an eye, a poisoned cup, a blade driven through the chest, the blood loss after bearing a child, the threatening flames of a pyre and finally ice cracking, a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her days. She slightly flinched at the memory again.

Francis arms were tightly wound around her body and her fingers where desperately clutching his garment. Inexplicably, there were tears trickling down her cheeks and they kept on flowing in a seemingly endless stream.

„I will never let you go again.“ she sobbed against him and her arms curled against his chest.

The thin material of his night shirt was drenched as she fisted it in her hands. He gently rubbed her back and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. In this moment, the heat radiating from his body onto hers, the familiar smell of his hair and the sweet sound of his voice were too much. The thought that she might have lost it all, never having the chance of knowing him so close, wrenched at her heart. All the things she had done, the sins she had committed against herself and others, threatened to crush her beneath their weight. The sobs gently echoed through her body and she only pressed herself tighter against Francis who seemed utterly perplex by her sudden reaction.

„I will never leave you again, my dear.“ he gently shifted their weight so they could see eye to eye.

His hand came up to trace the line of her cheeks and finally he used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her skin.

„A bride ought not to cry on her wedding day.“ he whispered against her ear and she couldn't help but smile in response.

-

The ship swayed under her feet and she squinted her eyes to make out the growing strip of land before her. The winds were harsher than when they had left the coast of Francs and she tightly clutched the shawl around her chest. With her other hand holding onto the rail, her feet threatened to slip on the wet deck beneath her. The captain had estimated their arrival in the harbor of Edinburgh in the next few hours. She felt both exited and anxious to return to her home country. Her parents, brothers and sister all lived here and she had been away for a long time. But the excitement was dulled by a sense of lost. All that she had left behind once she had boarded the ship. A country she she had grown to love, her queen and best friend, she would most likely never see them again.

Mary’s last words echoed in her head. ‚Tell me why!‘ her friend had begged her and seeing her tears had been too much. She had broken Mary’s trust in a time when she had needed it most. What if the child wouldn't live and she couldn't even picture the grief Mary might have to face, if Francis never returned from his search. She swallowed, trying her best to ignore the forming lump in her throat. She had been so stupid to trust Cathrine.

Tears stung in her eyes and she wasn't sure if it was her own grief or simply the harsh winds around her. How could she have been so naive, shouldn't she have known better? Kenna had always prided herself on her cunning and unparalleled instincts, how she had always been the reasoning one of her friends. But after all this time, it was the old Medici woman, who had fooled her and she clenched her hands into fists.

Cathrine had seemed so sincere and her promises had certainly flattered Kenna’s proud heart. The idea of saving Bash had sounded so right in her mind, when the woman had told her. Of course she would have given anything to spare him the flames and excruciating death, the pyre would bring. After all, she would have had Cathrine on her side and the woman surely knew how to bribe guards and smuggle people in and out the castle’s impenetrable walls. But she hadn't bribed any guards or help anyone escape this time. Kenna felt the anger rising at the memory. No, they had been caught and the guards had dragged her back by her hair and dress, taking no notice of her relentless screams and kicks. And worst of all, the look of defeat on Bash’s face when the guard had forced him against the hard stone wall and bound his hands anew.

She hastily wiped away the tear, glistening on the reddened skin of her cheek and sniffled. How cruel could a person be, to toy with peoples life like that. Did the woman have no compassion at all? Of course Kenna had heard the stories as well, the tales of how Bash had been the one to throw his mad father out a window to his death. Goose bumps formed along her spine and she shivered as the cold air swooped through her layers of cloths. She could understand Cathrine’s need for revenge but this seemed so wrong and she still remembered the look of fear on the woman’s face when Henry had driven the sword through Lola’s innocent body. There certainly hadn't been any love left between the two and she couldn't imagine Cathrine actually regretting her late husband’s death. Maybe the woman just loved seeing people killed, she pondered, it might thrill her in some disgusting way.

She had felt sorry for Francis, truly pitted him for how things between Mary, Bash and him had unfolded. But she had never taken the warm hearted prince, now French King, to be of a cruel heart. As much as she had valued him as a friend, though they had mostly shared very heated discussions, she could never forgive him for this. Of course his daughter had just been taken from him, but executing his own brother would not bring the child back.

Bash might have been the one to marry Mary, the ultimate prize it seemed. But in the end, his life had been filled with misery and despair just as much as Francis’ had. He was never born a king, unlike his younger brother, and the crown had proven too much paired with the troubled relationship with Mary. He might have put the ring on her finger, but her heart and most tragically the growing child inside her had never belonged to him. She couldn't lie, seeing both of them, over the past months, fighting and screaming at the other, had been heart breaking to witness. How many evenings had she spent, rubbing Mary’s back and holding her friend’s hand, as she had wept and cried in despair. Her heart had bled for Mary, but knowing that Bash wasn't really the one to blame had only made it worse. The lies had build up like a wall between them and both had been too blind see past their own pain.

She took in a deep breath as she closed her eyes and relished the sensation of feeling the cold air rush into her lungs. Her head seemed to burst with heavy thoughts and memories she couldn't quite let go. She stayed at her place at the front of the ship for the remaining hours of their journey, wishing for nothing more than to throw her burdens over the edge into the almost black waters below.

When the ground finally steadied beneath her feet and the buzzing harbor came to life all around a feeling of finally standing of Scottish ground took her heart. But at the same time a strange sensation of longing overcame her. No matter which direction she turned, the faces that would meet hers, she couldn't recognize, they were all strangers. Talking in a language she could understand, but hadn't spoken herself in years and it all seemed like a completely new word. Nothing here reminded her in the slightest of French court, the manners and extravagant gowns. Here, everything looked some shade of grey or brown and the men’s faces carried deep lines and tired eyes, as they rolled barrels across muddied ground and pulled smaller ships into the harbor. She felt completely out of place, with her light blue dress, which had already caught dirt at the seam, and her huge entourage of boxes and oversized chests filled with even more gowns and jewels.

„Madam“ she turned to find the grey bearded captain of their ship before her. „I was told to give you this, almost forgot.“ he mumbled.

He stretched his arm out to her, handing her a crumbled up piece of paper she carefully unfolded and even out. There was no seal or name and she furrowed her brows in confusion. The paper only held few words ‚take him with you - do not tell anyone‘. She slightly shook her head, not grasping the meaning of the message before her.

„I don’t understand. Who am I supposed to take with me?“ she directed the question at the man before her.

„Ah yes, your steward.“ he nodded.

„My what?“ she had never in her life had a steward and saw absolutely no reason for one now.

„He’s a curious companion, didn’t utter a word. The queen had me swear to keep him under deck.“ the captain shrugged and without another word turned towards the boat.

Before she could try to make any sense of the situation and the captain’s words, a slightly bent over figure emerged behind the beard shipman and her heart almost stilled in shock.

„Bash“ she couldn’t believe her eyes.

-

„Do you take this man, Francis the Second of the House of Valois, to be your lawfully wedded husband?“

„Yes“ she had never so easily uttered a word.

Her hand was in Francis’ and he gently pushed the delicate golden ring on her finger gifting her his sincerest smile. She could bust with joy, standing here before the whole court and at last being able to profess her love for the one man, who had always held her heart. He gentle squeezed her hand and bit his lip as the priest rose above them once more.

„In the name of god, I declare you husband and wife until death may you part.“

Francis helped her to her feet and resounding applause filled the chapel. She rose to her tip toes and he put his right hand around the small of her back kissing her. Mary smiled against his lips and when they move drew back she mused at the sudden redness filling his cheeks.

Her hand still securely in his they found their way back the ail. The chapel had been filled to the brink with people, some from court and others from more distant regions. But they had all joined to see their King wed to who would be the French Queen once more. And for once, there were no hidden sneers or conspiring lords threatening to topple their rule. France was at last, at peace.

Amélie followed just a few steps behind them, Anne safely snuggled in her arms. For the ceremony Mary had allowed her ladies and maids to dress the princess more extravagantly. A rose coloured bow was tied around her brown haired head and the snow white colour of her tiny gown matched perfectly with her mother’s.

The whole castle seemed to erupt with cheers and they were eagerly greeted by all the maids and servants upon entering the great hall. Despite the freezing temperatures and thick cover of snow around the court’s walls, its interior was draped with lush bouquets of white flowers and the tables were filled with displays of the ripest fruits and intricately decorated tarts and cakes.

The air was filled with a sweet mixture of wine and wild flowers and an abundance of candles and lusters dipped the whole hall in a warm honey like glow. When she turned her head she could see the little sparkles of light reflected in Francis’ eyes. She allowed herself a moment to marvel at the man, who at last she could call her husband and goose bumps rose on her arms. God had truly had mercy on her and this was the greatest gift of all. Knowing him by her side for the rest of their days and the life they had always dreamed of. Whenever he would gaze at her, admiring her own beauty his eyes were filled with the love, both had been chasing after for far too long.

Behind them, the musicians drew their instruments and the first few tunes were still competing with the murmur and laughter from the crows. Before her, Francis bowed his head, carefully not to disrupt his golden crown, and presented his hand.

„I have waited for this moment my whole life. Will you give do me the honor of the first dance?“ his gaze was bursting with warmth and compassion and she could feel herself blush beneath her powdered cheeks.
„Of course“ she smiled and he rose to meet her arms.

The crowed had formed a slightly uneven circle in the middle of the hall and they found themselves alone on the dance floor. Both curtseyed once more and slowly the started to move to the music. At first their palms barely touched as the kept their steps small and moved in graceful circles around each other. As the music grew louder and quicker around them, so did their movements.

It felt right, as if their bodies had been destined for each other. Each of his moves was perfectly parallel with her own and she had never enjoyed a dance as much as she did this one. He gently guided her and not once did their feet collide or take a misplaced step.

Francis placed his hands on her waist and gently rose her body into the air, spinning them both around. When her feet met the ground she caught his eyes and he gently rested his forehead against hers, never letting go of her eyes.

„Look“ he nudged his head upwards and her eyes followed his movement.

Her breath caught in her chest when she witnessed the claud of tiny white feathers pouring from above them. Her mouth opened in astonishment and a laugh escaped her lips. Francis peered at her from above and when their eyes met, he too knew the memories playing in her head.

The happy squeals of their childhood as they had bounced on a bed covered in feathers, his sisters wedding and Mary dancing with her ladies only to catch his eye and of course, the night of her wedding to bash and the brief moment when her brown eyes had met his blue ones.

But this time there was no pain or hurt, no lies between them. Today it was only them and the love that had been in their hearts all along. He returned her smile and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before continuing to spin her through the room until both of them were slightly red faced and breathless.

-

The voices and music still echoed from the hall several floors down and the night was alight with candles on the perch of the balcony. Francis had carefully managed to balance to mugs of hot milk, sweetened with a touch of honey, on the stone perch and Mary had collected all the blankets and furs she had found in their chambers to keep the night’s chill away.

Francis was holding Anne and the baby had finally tired from the day’s busy events and was now soundly asleep as he rocked her against his chest. Mary huddled closer to him and nestled her head against his shoulder, following Anne’s movements, as her small chest gently rose and fell with every breath.

„This is all I’ver ever wanted.“ she intertwined her hand with his free one. „To think that all of this had to happen to get us here.“ she hid her face against the smooth fabric of his embellished doublet.

„All that matters is, we are here now.“ he looked as content as she had ever seen him and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. „Time has proven that our destiny had always been with another and I wouldn't have it any other ways.“

The remained cuddled against one another with Anne save from the cold between them. There were lanterns lit all across the lawn, reaching to the waterline of the lake. Scarce, people, mostly couples, were scattered across the snow covered grass beneath them. Despite the freezing temperatures the strong walls of the castles shielded them from most of the winds and an incredibly sensation of warmth spread throughout her body.

Memories of their happy childhood flashed before her eyes and the moment she fist saw Francis, after returning from the convent. Maybe he was right, they had been destined for each other, engaged since their very early childhood. Now, she truly was married to the French King and father of her beautiful child.

She could feel the slight tingle of Francis’ breath on her skin and when she turned her head upwards, she found his eyes glued to her face. His cheeks grew slightly pink in response and he looked as if she had caught him doing something indecent.

„I love you.“ he muttered against her ear, his eyes aglow with the flames radiating from the candles.

„And I love you, always have and always wills.“ his smile grew even wider and he gently lowered his head, hovering only inches from her face.

Their lips touched and she relished the sensation. Everything had changed and nothing. He was still the same man, just Francis, and she just Mary, despite all the things that had conspired. He drew her in closer and their kiss deepened. She could taste the faint hints of honey and milk and rose her hands to cup his face. Her thumbs gently drew across his cheeks and she could sense his lips gently turning into a smile against hers. The sweetness and joy overwhelmed her and for the first time she truly felt home. This was were she belonged, where her heart felt at home and she knew that he felt it as well.

When they finally drew back and his top lip ghosted across her bottom one one last time the stars seemed to mirror in his now almost black eyes. She couldn’t hold back a giggle and he couldn't help but laugh in response.

She intertwined her own hands around his neck and meant to rest her face against his neck, to relishing the familiar smell that was so uniquely his. But drops of red on his jaw line caught her attention. They must have dripped down from his ear and when she wiped them away with the sleeve of her robe, the blood melted into the fabric.

Francis instantly caught her worried look and smiled.

„Oh it is nothing, dear. My ear's just still a bit sore from the cold water..“

Satisfied with his answer she leaned her head against his chest and in her mind this was how ever night should end. Close enough to feel both their daughter and Francis’ beating hearts against her own skin.