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“Mary, I do love you. You know that no matter what I’ve done.”, confused and concerned the young Queen looked at her husband. “What’s happened?” “Nothing. It’s just the season. Makes one take stock of the year.”, he answered more lighthearted but still tense. She knows they have not been seeing eye to eye together often recently. Never really, except for Claude’s engagement to Condé. Yet she takes a deep breath trying to reach out to him again. “Well, then, let’s enjoy the season. Shall we get ready for the feast together?” Immediately her hope diminishes when he tells her about other things still occupying him. Of course, there would always be something else more important. Something he would not confide in her. As if sensing her mood, he reaches out to her. “Don’t worry. All is well.” She forces a small smile at that. “All right, then.”, she is about to leave to get ready alone when he calls her to wait.
A bit confused she stills and turns around. “I know you’re still angry but…let me look at you.” Confused, she stands still for a few minutes sensing him watch her. She is not self-conscious but the way Francis worded his request and the intense way he took her in brought back some of her worries. “Enough?”, she finally asked. “Not nearly”, the words hit her with a force she could not explain. She looked back up at him. Different now, something heavier in her chest she could not quite explain but before she could speak, he had already turned around and left.
The day goes on and the feast takes place. Mary makes polite conversation with the nobles excusing Francis, trying not to worry. Bash had told her earlier that he had left to smooth things over with the Vatican amid their decision that Claude and Louis should be wed. She was relieved to hear that finally they truly were in agreement again. Still the way his eyes lingered on her earlier that day had not left her and neither had the feeling in her chest that something bigger was happening. Yet she remained calm when she announced that with the king’s blessing the engagement was arranged, wishing them all the best for their future. She smiled at the guests politely ordering them to stop whispering and instead celebrate the couple.
The guilt at telling yet another lie was tearing at Francis’ soul. He prayed all day that this would have to be the last of it. That God would forgive him the sins committed and still to be committed to end all this. Bash riding next to him noticed but decided not to say anything. He knew this was hard on Francis and he knew his brother wished nothing more than stop the bloodshed. Wishes, Bash also knew, were the works of con artists and nothing to put your faith in. He sensed Francis’ tension when they found Montgomery, the man tied up in dirt and desperate. It was obvious Francis knew there was no other way out. Bash, by the time they found the man knew as much himself. Montgomery had to die tonight even as he begged and cried that he had no idea about why he was kidnapped. “He knows.”, Francis’ voice feigned calmness the way only someone who was born to rule a nation could. Maybe the tone was exactly what made Montgomery jump up, maybe it was just survival instinct as he started ranting about how he hated the late King Henry and did not care about how succession took place. Bash took one last look at his half brother and took both men out of their misery stabbing Montgomery in the chest.
It was eerily quiet in the shed after that. Francis had assumed he would feel relief after the biggest threat to him and those he loved was out of the picture. Turns out having a man murdered for your own sins did not lead to salvation. He took a deep breath before joining his brother. They would have to get rid of the body and fast before someone knew what really was going on. Maybe once Montgomery would be in the ground and no longer haunting his presence could Francis ease out of his tension. Bash thought better of it though and took his brother aside once they put the body on the horse. “You should go back. You are free, brother. After all this time, go back to your wife. She might still be awake; you should not carry your weights any longer. I’ll take care of this here. I promise.”
The King looked at his brother contemplating his options. He really did not want to leave Bash alone with the dirty work after everything that had happened, but he could see the sincerity in Bash’s eyes and deep in his heart he knew he wanted nothing more than return to Mary, hold her and never let her go again. “Thank you.”, he pulled Bash into a brief hug before getting back up at his horse determined to make it back as fast as he could. There was no way to fix what he had done over the past months, but he could still fix today and apologize for everything, hoping a part of Mary would understand his impossible position and at least partly forgive him today. Francis really could do with some of that today.
That thought stuck with him and settled deeper into his bones the closer he got to the castle. Outside everything seemed normal yet as he handed his horse over to the stableboys, something inside his soul shuddered. He knew something was wrong. It took him a few steps into the castle before he recognized the guard was array and it took him all the way up the stairs until he saw the first one fallen. Then he heard the fight and felt how his soul left his body. It didn’t take long for his muscle memory to take over, pulling out his sword and taking the corner into the hallway. Within seconds he was noticed and just as fast he was involved in the fight. He did not care much about himself right now; he thought maybe he deserved this after all that he had done, all that mattered to him, all that registered consciously in his mind was that they were too close to their chambers. That Mary might be in danger and that he needed to make sure she was alright no matter what else happened.
Mary had spent many nights getting ready for bed without her husband, falling asleep alone but despite their arguments and long silences she always knew at some point he would lie beside her. Tonight, she did not know such thing. The feast had dragged on and she had remained longer than usual but still there was no news about her husband or brother-in-law. Again, she thought back to how he had looked at her earlier, at the way he sounded when they talked. As if he might not see her again. She was restless and it took her a while to fall asleep but when she did, she had the most beautiful dream. A dress, white and much like the one she wore earlier that day, a garden, roses and in front of her, Francis. Not the King but the boy she met after the convent. The man she fell in love with, who would have fought everyone and everything, even fate itself to be with her. He was smiling at her and then he said the exact same things as her Francis had said earlier. When he said them in the dream, however, they were light and romantic, no bitter feeling behind. It was a beautiful dream, they ran around, Mary was pregnant, and Francis was happy. She wished for nothing more in her life than that.
She knew dreams were often the mind showing things that were stressing the body out, but she could not help but feel this was more than just her mind easing her, that Francis would be delighted by a child despite his awful words about the miscarriage. Even then a part of her hoped that the sadness she saw in his eyes was more than “his want for an heir because he was a man and a king”. She wanted Francis to have a child with her because he loved her the same way she loved him. A secret she had been carrying around for a few weeks afraid of another miscarriage so close before it was safe. Now she was past the twelve weeks and worried about his reaction still. Their recent agreement on the engagement had given her hope but she wouldn’t be at ease until he lay beside her again.
The dream continued in its beautiful bliss, they were so happy and in love until suddenly their world burned, and Mary heard shouting. The angels sworn to protect them pulled out their swords and started fighting. She could hear the metal clearly over the screams. A terrible feeling overcame her that she knew this, she knew she and Francis would die but suddenly he was no longer next to her. Her eyes shot awake. The bed was still empty beside her, but the screaming and metal did not stop. She rushed out of her bed and immediately guards rushed in. Mary should have known something was off. They did not look as if she had screamed, they just stood there, uncertain. Their swords were bloodied. They came closer as Mary looked around panic now settling into her body, there had to be a way out. She heard them whisper “She is a Queen.” “I don’t care.” Mary was not sure what they were discussing but the way they stared at her told her to run so she did.
She made it just across the room before they pulled her back by her arm. She tripped and fell, hitting her head. One of them laughed “She doesn’t look much of a Queen now.”, he snarled and pushed her back at her feet as if she were a discarded doll. Mary had been taught her entire life not to show any emotions that she would have to look calm and controlled. But she could not bring herself not to let a few tears fall, she knew with a sudden clarity what these men wanted from her. She heard the fight outside as if through cotton, as they held her down. Her eyes darting to the door hoping, praying that those angels she knew weren’t just killing helped her once again. Mary was not superstitious, she knew her religion and knew there was no such thing as reincarnation on earth, but something told her that she had not died in that garden, that her soul was not yet done living and she prayed to God and all the saints that she was right.
She barely registered when they turned her around, as the hand finally left her mouth she tried to scream and run off again but one of them stepped on her preventing her from moving away, putting his hand back over her face. “I am sorry”, he whispered, and she started crying even more. Her fear was taking over her body as the other yelled to hold her still. He took the knife out of his boot and grinned down at her as if he was a vengeful God himself ruling over everything. Mary tried one last time to escape when he stepped on her hand, forcing her still. There were no saints helping her this day, she would die one way or another today. For the first time since she found out she was glad she hadn’t old Francis about their baby. She couldn’t bear the thought of him mourning two losses.
Mary closed her eyes, praying for nothing in particular except that Francis was safe. She hoped it would be over soon as the fear dulled her senses, the blood and adrenaline rushing to her head. In truth the time seemed to slow down. As if in slow motion she registered voices inside the chamber, her head hitting the short distance to the stone floor and the sound of metal hitting metal. She was afraid to open her eyes even after her attacker let her go, to afraid to move. If she stays still, she thinks briefly, then all of this never happened. Then she is safe and not really there.
Except she is really there and the hands on her arm suddenly feel like a fire blazing. She thinks Dante had it wrong. This was hell and it felt nowhere near cold; she rather thinks this could melt all ice away. Suddenly Mary regained some of her adrenaline and tried to move away again but she was held back yet again. She shivered her nerves, giving up as new tears started rolling down her face. It took her a while to realize she was spoken to, that the hands holding her loosened their grip and that someone gently pushed the hair out of her face. “Shh, it's okay Mary. You’re safe. I’m sorry. You’re safe now.”, the soft voice of her husband reaches her in steps. The imaginary cotton that dulled her senses leaving as his voice drifts clearer to her. “Francis”, she rasps. It hurts to speak. “Don’t talk”, he urges her. She briefly hers him tell her that the attackers are either dead or imprisoned. That they cannot hurt her anymore and that she needs to try to relax. She has a head injury, he informs her but she knows. The blood has dried now. She does not think it is bad but her head hurts and she is tired.
“I can’t”, she whispers sinking into his arms. The adrenaline had finally worn off and her panic attack stopped. She felt so tired and out of her body right now as if her mind was more awake than the rest of her. “It’s okay”, he whispers and gently pulls her up. By the time they stood more guards and Catherine made it into the room. The Queen Mother stopped dead in her tracks taking the scene in. “Bring a physician. Now.”, was all she ordered before rushing towards the young couple. Immediately Catherine was all around Mary making sure she was physically okay. Mary instinctively turned away towards Francis as if Catherine's touch would harm her. “We need to make a statement.”, Catherine says, and Mary knows she does not mean to sound so cold but that does not make it hurt less. Politics, always politics, even though she just lived through hell.
She hears Francis argue with his mother that this could wait. That Mary needed a doctor and a moment to breathe. It was only then when Mary hugged Francis a little bit closer that he winced. Not audible but she felt it. Immediately she took her hand away. A moment later she saw the blood in his shirt, on her fingers. “Francis”, she whispered again this time scared. “It’s okay ju- “, he tries to reassure her but she’s already spiraling having the guards fetch a chair for him to sit down. Suddenly her body felt wide awake again, her own pain dulls as she watched the color leaving her husband’s face while his shirt grew redder as the seconds passed. Mary knew she should take a step back and let the guards put pressure on it, but she was not yet strong enough to let him go.
Hours pass until Mary finally gets to look into her husband’s blue eyes again. The physicians came and went. Reluctantly she let them look at her wound but wouldn’t let them touch her which made taking care of it difficult, but she managed. All she wanted was to see Francis, but Catherine ushered her out. “You don’t want to see this, child.”, she had said, and Mary thinks she might have been right, but she felt like she was not safe right now. She had changed her gowns and had tried to wash her body until the skin burned but she felt nothing but pain and fear. Finally, after moments that felt like eternity the physicians left the king’s chambers, claiming he only needed rest, and Mary rushed to her husband’s side. He looked so fragile laying there. She knew it would be wise to show herself to the people alongside Catherine as she gave the statement of the night’s account, but she could not manage herself away from Francis. To expose herself just now to prying eyes. The bed itself, not even the room felt safe to her right now, but her husband did. She gently brushed his hair aside, finally calming her heart and eventually fell asleep next to him.
When she woke up again, he was looking at her. For the first time in a while Mary did not know what to say, what to ask. How to react. Before last night they were walking around each other, appearing together as if nothing was wrong but privately angry. There were only brief moments of passion that brought them closer again when their emotions got too much. Right now, that felt insignificant. Last night Mary had thought her life would end, that she would be ruined forever with no way back. She had thought she would lose her unborn child and herself. Then she was saved only to think her husband was dying. Now he was looking at her with his beautiful blue eyes that held so much concern and guilt?
“It’s not your fault”, she said automatically. It wasn’t. She would not blame him for evil men forcing their way into the castle. He could not have known. “I should have been there.” “You were there.” “I was almost too late.” She sat up a little straighter looking him directly in the eye. “Almost, Francis. You were almost too late, but you were there. When I had given up you came through that door. I am bruised and I will have a scar on my forehead for a few days but that passes. The emotional strain I would have had regardless of whether you were in the room with me or not. They came to murder you, Francis. Watching that would have been so much worse.”
Mary had not known her true feelings until she said them out loud, but she realized that she meant them. Earlier when Catherine had informed her that the men had planned an assassination attempt on the King, she was grateful Francis was not in the room. If they had succeeded, they would have gone through with their plan for her anyway, this way her husband was able to stop them before anything irreversible happened. “I love you.”, she whispered trying to hold her tears back. She had done enough of that in the past few hours. Francis was awake. He would survive and so had their child. She could finally bring some good news into their lives.
“I lied to you.”, was all he said instead. Mary felt another shiver go through her, her voice hardening. “What are you talking about, Francis?” He tried to sit up and instinctively she pushed him down again. “I wasn’t meeting with the Vatican. I am sorry Mary, I- “, he broke off. Suddenly he looked like the boy that pushed her away just a year ago because he did not want to break her heart. “I killed my father.”
The silence that followed the confession felt heavy over the room. And it lasted because Francis did not know how to keep explaining, how does one explain all that has happened? While Mary could not believe she heard her husband correctly. Finally, after what felt like ages, he did sort his thoughts enough to keep going, to explain to her that he had no other choice. “Narcisse found out that it was me at the tournament, not Montgomery. He has blackmailed me ever since the plague, Mary, I wanted to tell you. I promise you I did. But I couldn’t if I wanted to keep you safe. You had to be able to walk out of this being able to deny any accusations. I could not do as I wanted knowing I risked your head.”
Francis sat up this time, ignoring her weak attempts to stop him. “He knew you and my mother had planned on killing Henry before the tournament. There was no way I could save you and shut him down. Mary, please believe me, it hurt me to go against your wishes that were so like my own. That I put this distance between us. I hated every second of it, but it is over now. I had Narcisse ordered to be imprisoned upon my return. Montgomery is no longer a thread, and Narcisse has done enough damage to be charged with treason. I am finally free, Mary. I can be the king you agreed to rule beside if you let me.”
He looked up at her expectantly. He did not expect anything in particular, only hoped she would understand, waiting for her to say anything at all. “We could have found a way to work this out together”, she said quietly. Suddenly Mary felt small, unsure of what to say. She knows her response was nonsense. Francis made perfect sense, and she understood him but the weeks of being shut out so completely had been real and they had hurt her. They were not just distance. There were words spoken. “What you said a few weeks ago, about- “, she broke off. Even thinking about the conversation made her stomach turn. It appeared he felt the same when he cautiously pulled her towards him. He allowed her to slip away from his touch. She noticed that instantly, but she let it happen. “I am so sorry I said that. I had to stop you from asking things I could not answer. It hurt so much to say, and you believed me so easily.” “I could not imagine you saying such a thing without meaning it.”
“I regretted the words everyday as soon as they left my mouth and I saw what they did to you. Mary, you need to know I never blamed you for what happened. I never lost hope in you. I know one day we will have children together. Yes, I wish for an heir, but even if we only had daughters, one daughter, I would love her just as much because she would be your child and mine. I love you, Mary, always.” By the time he finished his last sentence the couple were both crying trying to come to terms with the recent events. They had a lot to think about, and Mary decided she would not tell Francis about the child today. Not while he still felt so guilty and her emotional wounds were still so fresh. She could see himself beating him up if he found out she could have lost her child last night. Right now, she could still hide it for a while. Long enough for Francis to recover, for them to fix the politics.
They spent days going through the chaos that was France left under Narcisse’s passive rule. Their biggest priority was to stop the killings of Protestants and Catholics alike. After months of distance Mary and Francis finally were working together again to find solutions to go back on what had been declared earlier. Both of them, Mary realized with a lighter heart than she had in a while, still wanted to rule with tolerance and humanity rather than fear and cruelty. It had helped that Mary earlier bought Francis time when outing the Protestant nobility. They did make up a good fraction and an important one. With Narcisse’s land now new territory to distribute again they saw a path towards something. The young monarchs were under no illusions that any of this would go by fast and easy but the fact that they agreed on so much again helped give them hope and hope was exactly what France needed right now.
“Find any pretty stones I can decorate my swords with?” Francis’ light tone carried through the early morning hours startling Mary just a little bit. “You were rather cheeky that day, you should not sound so delighted.”, she said inspecting a beautiful green stone. She did not see it, but she knew he was smiling as he sat down next to her patting Sterling as he did so. “You turned my entire life upside down just by existing. I did not know how to react to your kindness and beauty. You were exactly as I remembered you, headstrong, confident. Yet you were so much more I did not expect.” “You were a lot ghastlier than I remembered you to be.”, she said short but without any real bite in her tone. Again, he laughed a little and this time she smiled too. Then she stood up suddenly expecting him to follow.
“This one is pretty.”, she said placing a greenish/grey stone into his hand before walking towards the castle. Sterling followed immediately while Francis stood there for a moment, confused by their strange interaction. “What are you hiding?”, he asked when he finally caught up with his wife. Mary did not answer at first. She picked up a branch and threw it for Sterling to chase, then she paused. “We are okay again.” Francis looked at his wife trying to figure out her emotions. “It took us a few days, weeks and I know there is still a lot to talk about, and I know I am still not well, still easily scared, but I am starting to have hope again Francis. In us, in our future.” She turned towards him now, taking his hands. He looked at her so lovingly she could not believe they were finally here again.
“I have known for a while, and I wanted to be sure, really sure. But then everything went bad, and we were figuring everything out again but- “, she took his hands putting them on her still rather flat stomach, “my ladies already had to loosen my corsets a lot and soon I will have to switch to other garments altogether…” “You’re pregnant.” Mary finally broke into a smile looking at her husband again. It took him only a second before he pulled her into a deep kiss, letting her know all the things he felt and could not put into words. “We’re going to have a child.”, he whispered into their kiss, making her smile again.
Francis could have stood there for hours but the bells signifying breakfast rang, forcing them to walk back towards the palace. That and a very loud deerhound waiting to be fed himself. Mary and Francis walked in silence, her arm in his, visibly happy in a way they hadn’t allowed themselves nearly the entire year.
“The physician said in a few weeks I might feel the kicks already.” Francis paused briefly, taking in the news. “We will have to announce it soon.”, he said absentmindedly secretly hating the idea that they could not keep this for themselves. “It will bring more hope and stability.”, she answers. Always a politician first whenever he allowed himself to just be a boy. He smiled briefly at that kissing her hand. “My mother will be unbearable.” He chuckled again, as she groaned, spinning her one last time in his arms before they entered the building returning to their duty as monarchs. This time knowing the angels made true with their promise granting them a long and happy reign.