To Love, Honor, Protect and Break
The distance had been eating her alive for some time now. After his fathers death it's as if nothing can bring back the man she fell in love with. She felt like it was her fault that she lost their child, he somehow resented her for his fathers death and the death of their child. Mary tried so hard to be happy and supportive, not let her emotions, her temper or depression get the best of her but seeing him stare dazed into the fire like it held all the answers in the world killed her. She didn't just want to be his queen; Mary wanted to be his partner, his confidant, and his world. When there was a problem she wanted him to consult her before Bash or his privy council. Even thinking the words she knew they were selfish ones. Nobody had to tell her otherwise. She didn't even want to think them but they kept plaguing her mind. Sighing deeply, she spoke with his back still hunched helplessly over the roaring fire. "I love you, I need you to know that," her words were firm and echoed against the stones of the walls. They hung in the air between them before Francis' sleek form finally turned around to face her. His cornflower eyes pierced her dark ones. "I do," was his simple sentiment devoid of all feeling.
His beautiful eyes were dull and flat lacking all emotion. Mary could feel her amber eyes start to glisten over as she spoke the words she had sworn would never leave her mouth, "I want to support you as your wife, as your queen but I can't understand why you would let the murders of that young boy, your cousin walk free. This isn't you." Despite the audacity of her words and the raging emotions within Mary, her voice was fierce and calm. She didn't mean to sound accusatory, bereft or even aloof, but by the way his eyes blazed she knew she needed to tread carefully if this conversation was continuing.
The words left his mouth before he even thought them through in the slightest, "You know the larger issue here." As soon as the fighting words left his mouth Francis wanted to retract them. He didn't want to alienate his wife like his father had done to his mother; in fact, he wished his father could be erased from his memory forever. His anger was at himself and Lord Narcisse, not his beautiful Mary.
As a ruler, Mary understood having to keep France's interests above their own, but she couldn't understand why Francis would bow down to the injustices that were doled out to his family especially when he had always told her they would rule as a team, their rule would be so different from his father and mothers. "I understand that we need to bow down to Catholic nobles who pretend to bow down to us, but you could have held those men accountable. What they did is only going to further inflame the Protestants."
The distressed, longing look in Francis' soulful eyes went unnoticed by Mary though when it appeared as if there was no reasoning with him. In all of their years of knowing each other and their short courtship and even shorter marriage, he had never spoken to her like that. She knew very well that most noble marriages, especially those involving royals were far from loving and romantic but she had thought her and Francis would be different. Despite the warnings everyone had given her, Mary felt incredibly naïve and wounded. "Do not talk to me about larger issues here. My mother had to flee our homeland because of Protestants; my country has fallen to Protestantism. I do not need a lecture from you about the dangers of religious intolerance and what it can do to our people, our nations."
"Mary, I can't talk about this anymore, I am begging you to let it go. The decision has been made." His frustration was mounting at her pressing him and his secrets. Francis wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth, she was the light of his world, but doing so would greatly endanger her. He was trapped in a corner with nowhere to go. The flames of his sins were burning him from the inside out and strangling him.
She couldn't stop pushing him, Mary could feel how close he was to telling her what was really bothering him. She couldn't stand the secrets mounting between them. She felt it hardening them into people they had previously hated. "Why can't we discuss this Francis, we used to," Mary was exasperated at the edginess of her husband.
"It's not always possible to talk everything out-I am the king of France! If my own wife can't respect my decisions how are my subjects supposed to!?" Francis face was a purple, red color with a crazed look in his eye. He could feel the hatred for his father spreading through his veins. Even dead he was still controlling all of his actions. He honestly wished there was a way to spare Mary the hurt he was bound to cause her because of these secrets.
Mary was slowly accepting defeat; her biggest fear was possibly upon them already. The thought of Francis resenting her made her heart shrink and stop beating. In her last attempt to try and reach him she grappled about their times before coronation, "It used to be, you used to tell me everything, no matter what. What's changed Francis? There is something else going on, I know you. You've been distant, acting as though you're haunted by something."
"It was a choice I made as king," he gritted out through his teeth. Finally gaining the courage to look at Mary again, Francis saw the pleading in her dark eyes. She just wanted what was troubling her lover. Francis saw her begin to speak again and knew if he didn't shut this down he would end up endangering his love more than he already had by making under the table deals with Narcisse. The worst part is, is he knew how Mary would react. She would try to save him, save their countries from falling under noble rule again. He didn't want to corrupt her like he had already been. There was no hope in having a different rule from his fathers. That was their fatal flaw. Her fatal flaw still, she thought she could bring justice to France. The situation was getting the better of him, getting the better of his marriage. "I just need peace and quite Mary, please." He was back to begging his beautiful wife to let him wallow in his own selfish mistakes.
Francis knew just by looking at her she was thinking the worse. He wanted nothing more than to be able to take her into his arms and hold her; reassuring everything would be okay and then making sweet passionate love to the woman he would do anything for. He killed for her, for their future and it was now killing him.
Mary honestly didn't understand why Francis was being so secretive. Didn't he realize that all she wanted was to be treated as his equal and loved. She wanted to help him carry his burdens not be treated like a porcelain doll who couldn't handle getting her hands dirty. If she had learned one thing while in French court it was that in order to survive you had to get dirty. "You need to trust me, let me help you."
He turned back to the fire, unable to face Mary and her worry for the pathetic piece of shit he had become in his short rule. Gripping the stone fireplace he was once again leaning into he squeezed his eyes shut in hopes this would all be a bad dream as he let more sharp words fall from his thin lips, "Not everything can be solved by talking, by love, by you. There are things that can't be changed, that can't be undone no matter what. There are things you need to be protected from, I need to protect you," he blurted at the last moment. Francis inwardly cringed at letting his need to confide in Mary get the best of him!
Mary felt like crumbling to the floor in frustration. Her and Francis were literally talking in circles not making sense. He refused to give her a clear answer. Even though she knew she needed to be protected, her pride got the best of her. "I'm not fragile and going to be broken by a few harsh words. I don't need to be kept in the dark. What are you trying to adamantly to protect me from," Mary's voice raised in octaves as the argument continued.
"Stop pushing me Mary, I've said too much already. Please, I'm asking once more, let it go," Francis anger was both growing and diminishing. He didn't know how much longer he could fight with Mary. The stress on the day was wearing on him and he suddenly felt very frail and ill.
She rolled her eyes and scoffed in anger. "You have said far too little actually!" Mary felt like a petulant little girl whose older brothers were taunting her just because she wasn't male.
Francis unintentionally punched the mantle he had previously been clutching for dear life. "Mary, there are things I don't tell you because they endanger you. As queen of not only France but also Scotland you should understand people not telling you things for your safety! It is too risky and if god forbids anything happens, you have to be here. Safe. It's important that you are in the dark on some issues, on dangerous issues. You need to trust me." Mary knew Francis was trying to force her hand here so he could get out of having to explain. If her safety was in danger she had a right to know so she could try and combat the danger herself as well. All her life she had had a knife over her head, even being queen hadn't changed that.
"Whether I am your queen or the queen of Scotland or I lay claim to England there will always be threats and dangers. We are royals by birth and from birth we are expected to know the dangers our positions hold! How dare you treat me like an insolent Francis, you know that I realize the dangers of who we are better than anyone else," Mary's eyes were gleaming with a burning hatred for Francis, for their positions, for being royal at that moment. At times like this, she wished more than anything to be back at the convent, to be a normal girl…
In that moment, Francis became his father. Everything he had ever promised Mary went up in smoke. His anger at the predicament they were in got the best of him. Why had his father gone mad? Why had his father tried to take Mary away from him? "MARY," Francis roared, his anger and hatred matching his wives, "How dare you question the king of France! Do not forget dear wife that you are still in my court at my leisure."
Mary was speechless, she had heard Henry speak like this to many women in her short time here at French court, but never Francis, not even when he was with Olivia and she was irrevocably jealous. Mary's mind was still reeling, playing over the conversation they had just had as Francis paced in front of her vigorously running his hands through his curly, golden hair. She would have been pleased with him for not leaving after their quarrel except it was still too fresh. His biting words still stung and her eyes still glistened with unshed tears.
Mary was trying to make sense of what she couldn't do, what she couldn't help him with when she suddenly gasped, breaking the silence of the room despite Francis' heavy footfalls. His blue eyes immediately met her dark ones, both were haunted, Francis noticed how tense and frigid Mary seemed in that moment. He had never seen her so closed off and lost. She appeared to have shrunk in size. Her plush lips were moving and her eyes were the size of gold coin pieces. Francis desperately wanted her to turn and go to sleep, they would figure it out in the morning, but once she spoke he too froze with the same haunted look on his face. "You said that there were things that I couldn't do, I couldn't help you with… This mystery threat that somehow involves your sons nanny and you skulking around the castle at all hours of the night, something I can't fix and you can't change. The secrets visits to see your son… And the baby that I lost," Mary's dark eyes dropped to the ground as her heart silently broke. She had known all along…
Francis almost dropped to his knees to make Mary realize what she was saying was absurd. Almost. His heart was Mary's for the taking, even in his darkest moments when he thought he lost her, it still beat for her, and without Mary he was nothing. Francis knew if he lost her it would be the death of him. Yet here he was, at a crossroad. He had the option to be honest with her, allow her to judge him for the monster he had become and decide whether he was worth loving, worth staying with or keep her safe at the expense of his heart. Of their hearts, of their happiness together.
Francis realized that as long as Mary was safe and alive, he didn't care if they were miserable together, he would always love her and put her above his own happiness, their own happiness. In that moment, Francis broke his own heart to save Mary from his own faults and mistakes. He had to let Mary rip out his own heart and lie to her to save them.
"Do you worry that I can't bear you a child," Mary's voice was hoarse and the words kept getting caught in her throat. Francis was gutting her with a rusty, dull knife and slowly letting her bleed out on the ground. He had lied to her and said that it would be okay, that they would get through it when he resented her and thought her to have purposely lost their baby, their heir while Lola had no trouble-producing sons at all. "Do you find me so despicable you would cast me off not even a year into our marriage and turn to my lady, my friend Lola to become your mistress because she can give you sons, heirs," the disgust in her voice made him want to vomit and beg her for forgiveness.
Francis swallowed his disgust with himself and saw part of his Mary die right before his eyes. "Yes! I worry because as a King and as a man I want heirs. Is that what you want to hear? Does it bring us closer for you to know that your failure disappoints me beyond words?" He couldn't even bring himself to speak Lola's name for fear the lie would literally strangle him alive. Francis was filled with so much hatred and self-loathing he didn't even realize what he was saying anymore. He didn't realize Mary collapse into the lounge, tears streaming down her face. His stomach churned and he could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat, "Have I answered you fully? Are we done with this relentless interrogation," the grave tone of his voice sounded like death, he felt dead inside.
Mary couldn't get enough oxygen into her lungs; it felt like she was drowning with a lead weight on her chest. Her heart had broken at the hand of the only person she had ever truly loved, "When you told me you hadn't lost hope..."
Her next words made Francis recoil; all he wanted to do was tell his wife it was all a lie. Everything he had said. None of it was true. If all she would do is forgive him he would forever be in her debt and shower her with love and affection and devotion until the day he died. But he couldn't risk having Mary killed because of him. He had to save her because their children, his country would need her but they could easily survive without him. Everyone could survive without him. "I lied. Mary, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I wish..." He wished for so many things, if God could grant him one wish for the rest of his life it wouldn't have anything to deal with money or heirs or even his country's well-being, it would only have to do with Mary- each beat of his heart, it said Mary, was for her.
She was still speechless; Mary couldn't believe how easily Francis could lie to her about anything, about seemingly everything. About her greatest fear and insecurity. Mary barely whispered the words out, in fact, she wasn't even sure Francis heard her. "For something I can't give you. Well, I asked you for the truth and you certainly gave it to me. I don't need to hear anymore."
Their hearts were bleeding with no intention of ever stopping or ever healing but for completely different reasons. Francis moved towards Mary sitting down, he didn't care at this point. He wanted her in his arms, he would cry with her, holding her tightly explaining everything if it got that distant, dead look off her face. However, when he moved towards her, she flinched away from him.
Mary saw Francis move towards her and the mere thought of him touching her made her want to cry out in pain like he had whipped her. She couldn't handle this; she couldn't be with him right now. As he moved forward again to sit, Mary stood and walked out. She had nowhere else to go in the castle, but she couldn't stay and go to sleep like everything was fine.
Two royals were in that castle that night, slowly bleeding to death, but not dying.
So this is my response to what happened in season two, episode five. It just seemed unfinished to me. I've yet to decide if I will continue this as a story or not. Feedback is always welcome! JAnd any and all errors are my fault; I did not proofread like I should. Enjoy!
