A REIGN FRANCIS AND MARY AFTER LIFE FIC
Fortheringay, 14 February 1587
The sky over Fortheringay was clear and blue as Francis Valois and Mary Stuart walked arm in arm through the gardens she knew so well, Sterling bounding happily after them. The old hound had died mere hours before and Mary had wanted to be there to help her old friend across.
Afterwards they lingered in the garden of the manor house where she had spend many years of her life under house arrest. Currently Mary was taking delight in showing Francis all her favorite spots. He allowed it with a somewhat secret smile, choosing not to reveal that he already knew them all.
She did not need to know that he had been 'earth-bound' for twenty-seven years, choosing to stay on earth, where he could watch over the love of his life. She had not been able to see him, until the eve of her execution, but he knew she'd felt him on numerous occasions, their bond was too strong for it to be otherwise and neither fate, nor death had been able to sever that bond.
"And this is where the robin has its nest," Mary told him excitedly, sounding sixteen years old once more and looking it too, for that matter. Same as him. They were once again teenagers in love, only this time there was no prophecies of doom or intervening, overprotective mothers…
Heaven, Francis had learned, was not so much a place as a state of mind and it would seem that his heaven was the same after death as it had been in life. His heaven was wherever Mary was.
"I tried to climb up this tree a year ago, one of the chicks fell from the nest and I tried to put it back, but it was too high…"
Francis laughed. "You are the only Queen I know who climbs trees, always so wild and unpredictable…"
"You like me wild," she reminded and he gave her that wicked grin that always set her heart at a gallop, now she had no heart to beat, but that smile still made her feel, so much and the emotions felt seemed almost too much for even her immortal soul.
"I do, indeed."
"Besides I'm not a queen anymore…" she added almost as an after thought.
"You're my Queen."
"Always," she agreed happily. "I was always yours and I always will be…"
He smiled that smile again. "That's a promise I intend holding you to…" He leaned down t kiss her when they heard a commotion and saw a carriage approaching, Mary recognized the colors and the seal adorning the coach on sight.
"My cousin, Elizabeth." Mary murmured.
"They can't see us," He reminded her as his arms encircled her waist, holding her close. "Not unless we wish it…"
"And if we wished it," Mary asked softly.
"Do you wish it?" He asked sounding just a little surprised.
"It's not that I want to scare her or anything," Mary told him, "You know Elizabeth and I never actually met and I've always regretted that. She became this dark shadow, this menacing presence and I think it was worse somehow because we never met…I'd like to break that power we had over each other, I want to look into her eyes as I forgive her…"
Elizabeth I bit back a curse as the carriage came to a sudden halt. "Why have we stopped?" The irate queen demanded of her driver.
The flustered ma hastened to explain that the wheels got stuck in the mud, it had rained the preceding three nights and the ground was saturated and soft…
Elizabeth shooed the man away with an agitated wave of her hand telling him to, "Fix the problem and be quick about it!"
By all rights the Queen of England should be sitting on top of the world right now, but instead Elizabeth I felt vexed and unsettled, having just come from a meeting with the Earl of Shrewsbury.
First there was the Earl's six year-old daughter crying over some dead dog and then the earl had given her the letters, Mary's letters…addressed to her. Currently they lay unopened on the seat beside her.
Truly it seemed that even dead and in her grave the rival queen of the Scots seemed determined to vex her! All of London were buzzing about the 'dignity and grace' with which Mary Stuart went to her grave. 'Beautiful', 'radiant' and 'serene' were other terms being bantered about and Elizabeth couldn't help but feel her cousin had managed to trump her in some way…and Elizabeth hated being trumped.
In her agitated state Elizabeth looked up to see a young couple and their dog approaching the carriage. The youth with the golden curls and remarkable blue eyes offered his help to the struggling coachmen while the girl curtseyed and her dog growled menacingly.
"Behave, Sterling," the girl with the dark auburn hair and doe eyes the color of liquid amber admonished the hound, her voice gentle, yet firm.
Elizabeth startled a little at the authority in the girl's voice and the fearlessness with which the girl met her own blue gaze.
"Begging your pardon, Madam." The girl spoke again, her voice clear and strong. "He means no harm; he's just very protective…"
Elizabeth found herself smiling, she could like this girl. "Where are you going, girl? Would you and your companion like a ride?"
"Thank you for the kind offer, your Grace, but my wife and I really must be going," the youth replied, the coach having been lifted from the mud. As he spoke his arms tightened somewhat possessively around his Sweetheart's waist. Or is it protectively? Elizabeth wondered.
Unlike the girl who regarded her with guarded curiosity and something akin to pity, the youth's eyes held a cold indifference making her somewhat uneasy. Like the girl he held in his arms he seemed to exude confidence and authority only born of growing up royal. Yet she'd never seen them at court…
She offered the young man money for his help with the coach, but he declined and led his young wife away, their dog following after. The coach pulled away alongside them and as they passed the couple Elizabeth noticed the signet rings on their fingers. It was the seal ring of the king and queen of France!
It was ridiculous of course, the Royals of France were known to her and yet…
The girl looked up as the coach passed and something in her eyes… Elizabeth yelled for the coachman to stop, but by the time she'd flung open the coach doors the young couple and their dog had disappeared as if they'd never been…
That night in her chamber Elizabeth I picked up a letter from the pile Shrewsbury had given her. Apparently it was the last letter Mary wrote her on the eve of her execution:
My Dear Cousin Elizabeth
This is the last of the unsent letters I will write to you. By this time tomorrow there will no longer be two queens of England…
Do what you must, Elizabeth and know I bear you no ill will. It pains me that fate never allowed us to meet, so I will send you the most precious possession I have…
And then Elizabeth could read no more and found she had to sit down on her bed for fear her legs might desert her, for in her trembling hands she held a painted wedding portrait, faded with age, of the king and queen Dauphin of France, but all Elizabeth could see was the couple on the road…
The End
