Francis watched the wax slowly trail from the candle to it's silver holding.
It had been hours now, and Mary still hadn't woken. He gazed at her, running his hand over her feverish one, as he brushed a few stray locks away from her pale face. Francis felt his heart constrict as she whimpered, and let out a groan of discomfort. He turned away from her as he heard footsteps echoing in the halls, her hand still clutched tightly in hers, as he faced the door. The physicians had said that they had done all they could, that the only thing to do was to let nature run its course. Francis only half-listened as an array of doctors bounded through the heavy wooden doors and began to examine his wife's still body. They swiped at her brow, and pressed on her chest, and Francis strained to hear the doctor's hushed conversations. He managed to catch the words 'pain', and 'ending' before the physicians moved away once again. He fixed his gaze on Mary's chest, finding comfort with it's steady rise and fall, before turning his attention to the physician at her left. The burly man motioned for him to raise Mary's head, and Francis quickly moved towards Mary's side and cradled her head to his chest, allowing the physician and to wipe at the blood stemming heavily from her ear. She whimpered again, muttering a few inditiguishingable words, and Francis leaned forward to rush his hand against her chest in an attempt to soothe her. After several agonizing minutes, the physician finally grunted, indicating that he was finished, and Francis carefully lowered Mary's warm head back onto her pillow. Francis stared at the older man's back as he retreated out the door, quickly glancing toward Mary before letting a few tears escape down his cheeks.
"The Duke of Anjou has requested an audience with you this afternoon, as he wished to discuss the tariffs around his new estate. I informed him that Your Majesty is quite busy this afternoon, and offered to schedule a meeting with you tomorrow, but the Duke seemed especially eager to speak to you…" Francis only half listened to his lord magistrate as he listed out the agenda for the day. He played absentmindedly with the loose threads on his heavily embroidered jacket, before catching an irate Kenna out of the corner of his eye.
"Honestly! One would have thought that marriage would dissuade me from trying to court me! I found Lord Rienne inside my bedchambers awaiting my arrival, along with a sack of jewels and claiming that he had something special that he wanted to show me! I stopped him before he made to undo his breeches, and managed to push him out of my chambers before Bash arrived…" Francis listened as Kenna recounted the eccentric lord's escapade, frowning slightly to himself as he pictured his brother's reaction to the tale.
"He's already sent me a letter of apology, along with a diamond-encrusted bracelet, and several ruby rings. I've returned them of course, but I don't know what I should say to him, Mary." Francis closed his eyes and smiled briefly. Mary. He couldn't wait until the day ended, and he could get back into bed with her. He nodded his head in agreement to a statement by his lord magistrate, and turned his attention once more to the ladies enthralling conversation.
"Are you even listening to me? Mary? Mary? Hello? Mary?" Francis frowned again and snapped his eyes open, turning his attention to his wife just as her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed onto the tiled floor. He rushed over to his wife, shaking her and calling out her name, screaming for guards and physicians at her lack of response.
Francis's eyes were beginning to shut. He had begun to drift into sleep when he began to fell a gentle tug on his hand. He spun around, to see his wife, pale and trembling, with chocolate brown eyes wide open. She gave him a weak smile, for which he returned a watery one, and leaned over to hug her. She smiled again, and moved to wrap her arms around his back, while Francis nustled his face into her heck, breathing in her scent. They stayed like that for a while, afraid to break the fragile peace, before Mary brushed her thumb against his wet cheek.
"Please don't cry." She whispered against his ear. "I love you." Francis gazed down at her as more tears threatened to spill down his face.
"Don't do this. Don't leave me. Please, my darling. We have so much yet to do, so much to live for. We haven't yet danced under the stars of the Louvre, or eaten oranges picked from the trees in Nice…" He rushed out. Mary ran her hand across his face, wiping away his tears before pressing a quick kiss to his temple. Francis held her fast to himself, before swooping her legs into his arms, and carrying her to the window ledge. They stayed like that for several hours, watching the sun rise and brush it;'s rays over all of the towns surrounding the castle. Francis's hands shook as he stroked Mary's back, and whispered sweet nothings into her hair. He swallowed down the lump in his throat as tried not to think about the fact that this would be the last morning they would spend together. As the sunlight began to stream into the stifling room, Mary closed her eyes, and borrowed her face into Francis's nightshirt. He felt a small smile grace his face as felt Mary's warm breaths puff against his chest, and held Mary's frail figure tightly to his body.
She stopped breathing a few minutes later.