"And this one is Fleur, born just months ago." Francis explained to the little girl in his arms as she smiled and extended her small hands to reach for the animal. The white pony closed its eyes, clearly enjoying the fondness, and the brunette princess laughed.
"She's beautiful." The princess continued to caress the animal all the way being watched by her mother, who stood beside them with a smile in her face. They knew each other for mere three days and the bond that Anne and Francis already shared seemed like one of a lifetime. And Mary knew exactly why.
"I'm sure that as soon as the snow melts you will be able to ride it." Francis smiled to the princess in his arms. She was an exact copy of Mary when she was a child, with the exception of her eyes, which owned a bright tone of blue. Fair skin that contrasted with her long brunette hair, which as her mother's, had small braids hanging on the middle of its waves. Her personality was also the same. Impatient, headstrong, clever and impulsive. And Francis loved every single thing about that little girl.
"Really?" The little princess' eyes shinned at the proposition and the King nodded at her. "But you would have to teach me because my father never taught me. And he wouldn't let my mother teach me." Francis swallowed hard at the mention of Anne's father. Of course he would never teach her to ride. Because Thomas, the late King of Portugal, was a cruel and strict man and the French King could only imagine what was Anne's and Mary's life with him. He couldn't see a good one. He couldn't see them happy and free, as their spirits asked to be, and his heart ached because he knew that it was partly his fault. Because he wasn't able to convince his father to secure Scotland and with that, Mary had to accept Thomas' proposition of marriage to secure her country's future.
"Anne." Mary warned her daughter, raising her eyebrow at her. "King Francis is a very busy man. He has a country to take care of, as your father had. And you know that's why he wasn't able to spend much time with us." Francis watched as Mary tried to compose a good image of Thomas to Anne. Her face was serene, calm, as she was already used to giving many excuses to the little girl and once again he felt a lump on his throat.
"But father always found time to spend with Lady Teresa." Anne commented, too young to understand that it was more enjoyable for her father to spend time with his mistress, who would do and say whatever he wanted for his pleasure, than to spend time with his wife, who was a Queen by right and wouldn't accept all of his desires and orders. Not that he wouldn't force her some times. Francis quickly glanced at Mary, who maintained her serene posture and couldn't help but roll her eyes when she noticed the King's stare at her. He held back a laugh and some of the weight at his back evaporated, that small action of the Scottish Queen showing him that deep down he was still the same Mary he met sixteen years ago, when she was nothing but a toothless, skinny, impatient and prideful young Queen left by her mother at the French Court to secure an alliance.
"I'm sure that your father had good reasons for that." Francis answered to Anne before Mary could and the little princess nodded. Thomas had died six weeks before, found dead in his bed by one of his pageboys, and Francis couldn't deny that as soon as he received the letter informing him of the occurred, a flame of hope lit up inside of him.
He knew that Mary had given birth to a girl and because of her gender she was not able to inherit the Portuguese throne. Francis was fast, sending a letter to the Dowager Queen and offering the French Court as a place for them to stay, a place where they could be safe. Mary was also fast in her answer, explaining that she and her daughter needed to go back to Scotland, a country that needed her Queen and to meet her future one; but she would accept France as a refuge to rest during their long voyage to Scotland. They were received at the French Court with all the pomp and honor that asked for a Queen and Princess and the first thing that Francis noticed as soon as he laid his eyes on them was that neither of them seemed sad nor melancholy because of Thomas's death and the reasons of that appeared in each of the sentences said by the little princess about her father. Sentences full of sadness for a father who wasn't present for her.
"Mary?" The young Queen turned on her spot to stare at the person who called for her. Catherine stood at the entrance of the stable, a warm smile plastered on her face as she took in the scene in front of her. In the last five years Catherine watched the worst five years of her son's life. He closed himself to any other relationships, focusing on his training to become a King. After Henry's death, three years before, numerous propositions of different Kings arrived, proposing alliances with France that would be sealed with their daughters' marriage to the King. But he denied all of the offers and Catherine deep down knew that he still had hope Mary would come back. And now she was back. For a few days, truly, but both she and Francis hoped to convince her to stay for good.
"Catherine." Mary smiled, not really understanding if Catherine's smile was or not a fake one. When she had left five years ago, Catherine was more than happy with her departure, for reasons that Mary could only understand as fear for losing her son to another woman, to who he would devote his time and loyalty instead of her.
"Oh, my dear, how I missed you." Catherine walked over Mary and hugged her, a long and warm embrace that seemed like of friends who hadn't seen in years. "I apologize for not coming to see you before. Madeleine is supposed to come for a visit anytime and Charles is enthusiastic with her coming." Mary smiled as she remembered the brown haired little boy. She hadn't seen him in these last three days and all she could imagine was the handsome young man he was turning himself into.
"It's alright, don't worry." Mary shook her head and before she could say anything else, Catherine walked past her in direction of Francis and Anne.
"And this adorable little girl." Catherine smiled as she caressed Anne's cheek. "Princess Anne, right?" Anne nodded, and bowed her head down at the older woman in front of her.
"Right, your Grace." Anne continued to smile. She didn't know who that woman was but for the beautiful clothes she was wearing, she could bet she was a noble woman.
"Oh, please, call me Catherine." The former Queen continued to smile, staring deep down at Anne's blue eyes as if she was hypnotized by it. "I'm Francis mother. And since I've heard you are already very good friends, I'm hoping I can also be your friend."
"But of course." Anne continued to smile. "And you can call me Anne, no Princess." The three adults laughed at the little princess, who didn't really understand why the laughs, so she turned her attention back to the pony.
"Oh, Mary, she's beautiful." Catherine walked over the young Queen, who smiled. Francis, finding odd his mother's sudden fondness with Mary, put the little princess over the back of the pony. Anne laughed as she caressed the horsehair and as one of the stable men approached the young girl, Francis left her on his care, approaching where the two women stood.
"Don't worry, she will be fine." Francis quickly said to Mary as she turned to see where Anne was since she was not with Francis. "Carl is used with all the kids who come to the castle and visit the stables." Mary nodded and smiled to the King. Her heart couldn't help but ache at the care Francis already had for her daughter.
"How long are you two staying here?" Catherine asked, smiling. "Please tell me you are staying for the Christmas festivities. It will be a beautiful celebration this year."
"I don't believe we will be able to stay too much." Mary smiled apologetically. "I promised my mother that Anne and I would be in Scotland as soon as possible. We just stopped here to rest for a few days and restock the ship."
"But it's too dangerous for you to be in the middle of the ocean in the winter! Why don't you stay for the whole season? You could leave in spring." Catherine smiled warmly to Mary and the younger woman could see real concern on Catherine's eyes. But more than that, she seemed to be really interested on her and Anne staying longer at the French Court.
"I'll think about it." Mary answered, not wanting to prolong the topic. Catherine couldn't help but notice her son's smile at Mary's response and she knew that she needed to help him.
"God, Mary, she looks just like you when you were a little a girl." Catherine commented as she looked at Anne over Mary's shoulder. All stares turned to the little princess who spoke with the stable man as if she was an adult, listening carefully to his instructions. Mary smiled looking to Catherine. "But, her eyes..."
"They look like Thomas'." Mary was fast in her response, not wanting Catherine to jump to any conclusions.
"Perhaps." Catherine smiled to Mary and took a deep breath before saying the next words. She was betting everything in something she didn't even know was truth. But she needed to do that. For his son's happiness. "But I would say they remind me a lot of Francis' when he was a little boy." Mary shot her a small smile, gulping, at the same time Francis raised his eyebrows at his mother, not really understanding where she was going with that talk.
"A coincidence." Mary affirmed, reassuring it to Catherine and a little to herself. For the corner of her eye she noticed Francis beside her and she wondered what he was thinking about all of that.
"Of course." Catherine smiled. "But tell me, her premature birth didn't have any consequences on her healthy, did it?" Mary looked at Catherine shocked. "Of course we heard she was born perfectly fine and people couldn't even say she was premature. But we don't know..."
"She's absolutely healthy. Yes, she was born premature but absolutely healthy." Mary wrapped her cloak tightly over her body, a shiver running down her spine. How could Catherine know? "If you excuse me now, it's time for Anne's bath." Mary gave the French a small smile as she walked over Anne and picked her up from the animal's back.
She thanked Carl for his attention and carried her daughter to the castle, all the way being watched by Francis and Catherine. As they left the stables, Catherine couldn't help but notice Anne waving and smiling to Francis.
~0~
"Mother, I did not understand the tone of your questions to Mary." Francis stared at his mother as they walked back to the castle from the stables.
"I suspect of something, Francis. Something that might change your life and Mary's." Catherine said as she kept walking.
"What are you talking about, mother?" Francis stopped in his tracks, clearly confused. Catherine also stopped and took a deep breath, knowing that it wouldn't be easy to share her suspicious with her son.
"By the time Anne was born, the official story that Mary and her midwife released it was that she was born two months premature. A date that matched with her and Thomas' wedding."
"Alright." Francis raised his eyebrow and motioned to his mother to continue.
"I have sources in Portugal, darling. Anne was born absolutely healthy and not the size of a premature child. No one would say she was premature." Catherine shook her head and Francis kept staring at her, still not understanding where this conversation was going.
"Mother, I'm still lost here." Francis shook his head and Catherine held it between her hands, starring deep at her son's eyes. That was an exact copy of Anne's.
"I believe Anne is your daughter, my darling. That she is yours and Mary's daughter, not Thomas'." Catherine shook her head and she watched her son's eyes get bigger. He held his breath as he tried to absorb the words that had just left his mother's mouth.
"What are you talking about?" Francis mind started to spin around and he felt dizzy. He had never thought about that, about the possibility that Anne was his daughter. He and Mary had been intimate before she left for Portugal, a night that had started with him visiting her chambers to say goodbye in privately and ended up with their clothes scattered over the floor and him on top of her, being the first man to ever see her like that. He was truly surprised when they started kissing and he said he would stop whenever she wanted and her answer was never. As he kissed her most intimate parts he felt relieved that he was going to be her first man. He couldn't bear the idea of Thomas being the first to make her moan or make her reach her peak. He couldn't bear the idea of Thomas touching her in any way, but he at least had one night to remember. For a time he thought his whole life.
"I know that you were intimate before she left for Portugal, Francis. And I believe Mary asked the midwife to lie about Anne's birth. Because if Thomas had ever imagined the possibility of Anne not being his daughter, we both know he would have her beheaded." Francis swallowed hard as he tried not to imagine Thomas near Mary.
"It was one night, mother. One night." Francis stepped back from his mother and started pacing back and forth in front of her, hands in his hair. "Thomas is dead now and I know that Mary wouldn't hide something like this from me."
"This can still cost her head, son." Catherine shook her head. "If Anne is declared a bastard, Scotland's Catholics might not accept her as their future Queen. And they might even ask for Mary's head, for sleeping with another man. You know how this works."
"And why mother, are you suddenly so interested in my happiness?" Catherine raised her eyebrows, shocked. She was always interested in her son's happiness. She lived for her family, for her children, even that they didn't recognize that.
"I was always interested in your happiness, Francis! I always fought for it!"
"Fought for it? You hated Mary when she came back from the convent, even knowing that I was falling in love for her! You did everything you could to keep us apart; you even tried to kill her!"
"I had my motives, Francis." He kept staring at Catherine, waiting for one of her many excuses. "And I won't even try to explain them to you, because I know you won't believe me."
"Try." Francis challenged his mother, clearly upset. For the first time in years he was facing her of the real motives she tried to keep him and Mary apart, and as much as he wanted to know the reasons, he was afraid to not be able to trust his mother anymore.
"Nostradamus had a prophecy when she came back from the convent." Catherine watched her son roll his eyes. She knew that he didn't believe in Nostradamus and that this truth could cost their relationship. "He saw at that time that she would be the cause of your death." Francis sarcastically laughed, shaking his head. "I know you don't believe in it, Francis! But I did! And that's why I tried to take Mary away from you!"
"And now what? Nostradamus' prophecy changed and you decided to really fight for my happiness?" Francis threw the words at his mother, upset.
"I always fought for your happiness, Francis! I wanted you to live a long, happy life, with your children and a wife you loved, and by that time Mary wasn't the one to bring you this!"
"I loved Mary, mother!" Francis yelled. "I still do! She's my happiness! And I would not care to live a short life if that meant to be happy beside her! Not that I really believe in Nostradamus stupid prophecy!"
"There's no more prophecy, Francis!" Francis rolled his eyes as his mother yelled. "I spoke with Nostradamus a few days before we knew about Mary coming. He said that your true happiness was about to arrive and when we received Mary's letter he assured me that she was your happiness. That the first prophecy no longer existed." Catherine said, calmer now as she watched Francis pacing around in front of her again. They were in the middle of the frozen garden and for a moment she wondered what would people think about the King pacing around, hands in his hair like a mad person. But in that moment, she didn't care.
"So that's why you were truly happy when I told you Mary was going to stop by here. Because that stupid seer of yours decided to whisper in your ear that was alright for me to be with her!"
"Don't speak like that, Francis!"
"I will speak whoever I want!"
"I know that you're upset, darling…"
"Upset? Do you think I'm simply upset?" Francis yelled, bursting out everything he kept from himself in the past years. "I have loved Mary since we were children and I had to let her go to marry that cruel and mad man they called King of Portugal. God knows what she has been through in these past years, of the cruel things he has done to her and to that innocent little girl!"
"Then help her erase her dark past. Fight for her, my son!" Catherine held her son's head again between her hands, bringing his focus to her words. "Fight for your happiness. For hers. Forget what I said about prophecies, I know that you don't believe. I just want you to know that I'll support both of you. And about Anne, even that Mary doesn't confirm it, even that my suspicious are wrong, don't let that little girl grow up without a father. Be a father to her and give her many brothers and sisters as God allows you and Mary." Francis sighed as he stepped back from his mother and felt dizzy.
In a second he was simply happy for being at Mary's presence again and thinking about how he should approach her with a proposition of marriage. Yes, he was thinking about it. Not just because he loved her and needed to be with her but also because he knew that Scotland was now weak, alone, and France could guarantee security to Mary, Anne and their country. Now his mother was saying that he could be Anne's father. That he could have another reason to not let them go. That his silent wish years ago could have become true.
~0~
"I must speak with the Queen of Scotland." Francis spoke with one of the guards at the door of her rooms. After spending the rest of the afternoon in his chambers, absorbing all the information his mother had released, Francis was hoping to speak with Mary after their dinner. But, as he somehow expected after her reaction to his mother's inquisition, she didn't go downstairs to dinner, sending one of her ladies to notify him that she was going to eat in her bedchambers that night.
The guard nodded to the young King in front of him, dressed in his best clothes. He was determinate to make Mary stay in France, determinate in convince her to marry him. He had all this ideas in his head already but what he truly needed was a push. A push that came from the most unexpected person: his mother.
"You may enter, Your Grace." The guard told Francis, as he held the door open to him. The guard bowed and exited the room as Francis took in his surroundings. Mary was sitting on bed, her back supported at the head board as Anne sat on her lap, both of them paying attention on Aylee reading a book. Kenna, Greer and Lola also stood sitting in the bed and hearing Aylee.
"May I speak with you in privately?" Francis asked as Mary looked up at him. He noticed as she then turned her eyes to Kenna and she nodded to her Queen, as if encouraging her to go speak with him. The four ladies had traveled with her to Portugal five years before and now were going back to Scotland with her. Neither of them had married, which Francis found odd since they seemed desperate to find suitors when they lived in France, and he wondered if that decision had anything to do with their now different behavior around Mary. They were now absolutely over protective around her and Anne, making sure they knew where and with who they were all the time, checking if they were alright and if they needed anything.
"Why can't I hear it?" Anne stared at Francis, as she was challenging him, and he couldn't help but remember when Mary was of her age. Stubborn, impatient, with too strong opinions for her age. Kenna and Aylee couldn't hold her laugh at the princess behavior and Francis noticed Lola and Greer also struggling to not laugh.
"That's because your mother and King Francis have adult matters to discuss." Greer picked up the little princess from Mary's lap and put on hers. Mary laughed as Anne rolled her eyes but accepted Greer's lap.
"I will be right back." Mary smiled to Anne and her friends as she got up from the bed and put her shoes. Her hair was loose, in the long waves Francis adored. She was wearing nothing but a simple green silk dress that beautifully defined her curves. Over her arms stood a lace shawl and Francis couldn't help but keep staring at her body. "We may speak in my bedchamber." Mary said to Francis as she walked by him and then he noticed he truly was in Anne's bedchamber, mother and daughter's room adjacent to one another. He nodded to Mary as he followed her to a door beside the fire. She opened it and he followed her inside the room.
"You didn't show up for dinner tonight." Francis commented as he, without reservations, sat in a chaise by the fire in the Queen's room. Mary stood behind one of the chairs, not really wanting to approach Francis. They knew each other very well, better than they should, but after the last five years, it was difficult for Mary to be alone with any men. And she felt an excruciating pain inside of her, for not being able to trust even in Francis.
"Anne was tired so we decided to eat upstairs. Lola said you received my note." Mary answered as she wrapped the shawl tightly around her arms.
"I did." Francis smiled to her. "But I just wanted to see if everything was alright. You looked uncomfortable with my mother's inquisition this afternoon." Mary looked at the fire, not wanting to look at Francis's eyes.
"Everything is fine. Yes, I felt uncomfortable with your mother's inquisition. It seemed to me she was questioning something about Anne and I didn't like it."
"She didn't mean to offend or anything like that, Mary. She still hope on having grandchildren of her own and I think she imagined what would be like if Anne was my child." As Francis said those words, he noticed Mary swallowing hard. "I mean, after all, we were supposed to get married. If you had stayed in France, Anne could be my daughter."
"But I didn't stay in France." Mary turned her head to stare at Francis. "I did what was right for my country, what a Queen should have done, and I went to Portugal. And I can't, neither can you, as the King of France, keep thinking about the past or what might have happened."
"If things had gone the way we wanted, you mean." Francis repeated his words of years before and noticed they had effect over Mary.
"Please, don't." Mary shook her head and Francis got up from the chaise walking over her. As he extended his hand to touch her cheek, she flinched, stepping back from his reach. She was sensible, afraid of being touched, and a million of scenarios traveled through Francis' mind. It was the first time they were alone since her arrival, not because he hadn't tried before.
"It's just me, Mary." He extended his hand again, this time to reach her arm. She let him touch her this time and he couldn't help but caress it with his thumb. "You don't need to be cautious around me." He shot her a small smile and she couldn't help but return it. She didn't take his hand off of her arm, enjoying the soft touch of Francis fingers. It had been a long time she hadn't been touched with such fondness.
"Is that all you wanted to speak with me?" Mary whispered, her eyes not leaving Francis hand, which traveled down her arm and reached her hands.
"No." Francis answered as he took a step closer to her. "I wanted to ask you something."
"Go ahead." Mary nodded as she caressed Francis hands and he couldn't help but smile.
"Marry me." Francis blurted out his proposition and Mary's eyes got big.
"Excuse me?" Mary took off her hands of his and stared at him with disbelief, walking to in front of the fire.
"Marry me. As we were supposed to five years ago." Francis followed her and grabbed her hands again, putting it into his chest. Mary's knees got weak as she felt his heart beat under her hands. "Marry me and become my wife."
"That's madness." Mary shook her head but didn't step back from Francis hold.
"Madness is to ignore our hearts, Mary. Our feelings for each other." Francis kissed her hands.
"We're rulers, Francis. We don't have the privilege to obey our hearts." Mary shook her head. "We must marry for alliances, not for love."
"But we can do both, can't we?" Francis stared at her dark eyes. "France can guarantee safety to Scotland and her people as I can guarantee a happy and safe life for you and Anne. We can be happy and make our people happy too."
"Francis." Mary whispered his name and Francis saw tears threatening to fall. "I can't."
"Why not? Give me one reasonable cause to why you can't marry me."
"Because I'm not the same woman, Francis. I'm not the same person you felt in love with."
"Yes, you are." Francis touched Mary's cheek and she closed her eyes. "You're still the same stubborn, impatient, headstrong, clever and impulsive woman I felt in love with. And I can see in your eyes, the way that you're looking at me right now and by the way your heart beating increased as I got closer to you, that you still share the same feelings." Tears slid through Mary's cheek and Francis was quick in wiping them. "Marry me and let's raise our daughter together." Francis whispered the last part and he felt Mary's heart beat increase even more. Her eyes flicked to the fire and then turned back to Francis.
"What are you talking about, Francis?"
"I will not fight to recognize her as my daughter, Mary. I know what this could cost you, even with Thomas dead." Francis hand traveled to her waist and Francis felt her body relax in his touch. "But I have the right to raise my daughter. To love her and be a father to her. As she has the right to be raised by a loving mother and a loving father." And in a blink of an eye, Mary felt all of the walls she had built around her and her heart crash down. She had dreamed, hundreds and hundreds of times with the image of Francis raising their daughter, a happy life for them in France, as a true family. She knew that those dreams might never become true since she was married to Thomas and if she ever had his child, more accurately, his son, she would be stuck in Portugal for the rest of her life. But know he was dead and Francis was right in front of her proposing her everything she dreamed of.
"I want this." Mary whispered and Francis couldn't help but smile. "I want Anne to be raised by her father, by you." Mary felt like the weight of a whole country had been taken by her shoulders as she said those words and she couldn't help but feel Francis bringing her closer to him, a smile still plastered on his face. Anne was his daughter. His and Mary's daughter. A product of their love. "But I don't know how to be your wife. I don't know how to be a wife to anyone anymore."
"I have no idea of what you've been through these past years, Mary." Francis brought her hand to his lips and he kissed it. "But I can imagine. And I can't help but feel rage. And hate."
"He's dead, Francis." Mary whispered as she touched his cheek.
"He is. And that's what you have to remind yourself everyday you wake you. That he cannot touch you anymore. That I will treat you like the Queen you are." For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Francis was able to see a true smile in Mary's face. He saw the gesture as an acceptance, and hypnotized by it, he crushed his lips onto Mary's.
She didn't answer right away, scared, shocked and Francis waited, waited for her to match her movements. As descended his hand from her face to her hips, traveling down her body, and brought her even more to him, now with his two hands, her hands went up to his chest and he felt her lips moving. Their lips danced together at the same rhythm, as if they were made for each other and at the same time Francis felt Mary's hand go to his hair, he felt her lips open and he smiled against it. His tongue explored her mouth; she still tasted the same as he remembered.
Her hands got lost into his blonde curls that she so loved and as Francis brought her body closer to his, she couldn't help but moan felling his body response to being with her. Francis bit on lower lip as they parted so they could breathe and before Mary could say something, Francis lips went to her neck, sucking on her sensitive vein.
"I missed you so much." Francis whispered as he took off one of Mary's sleeves so he could have access to her shoulder. He kissed it, savoring the taste and the felling of her soft skin under his lips. Mary moaned again, biting on his earlobe and Francis knew that she shared the same feelings for him. That they were still in love for each other.
"I missed you too." Mary whispered in Francis's ear and that's all he needed to hear. Without taking his lips from her skin he slid his hand over her chest and took off her other sleeve, sliding the silk dress down her body only to reveal she was not wearing a corset. Mary felt a shiver running down her spine as the fact that she was naked sank in. But as she looked at the person who traveled with his mouth to her breasts, all she could see was his blonde locks. And then she remembered she was with Francis. With whom she belonged with.
"God, Mary." Francis whispered as she smiled and he traveled with his mouth to her breasts. They were bigger than before, more rounded and Francis felt his breeches too tight in that moment. Before he could finally take one of them into his mouth he noticed she had scars on it; when he looked at the other one, there were scars there too. They were lighter than her skin and they seemed like cuts, but not very deep. Scratches. He took a deep breath, trying to remember that that man was already dead. Because if he wasn't, it wouldn't take too long for him to be. As Mary looked down on Francis and noticed where he was staring, she froze. Remembering what was there. Remembering who did that.
"Don't." Mary whispered as Francis was about to kiss her scar. He took a deep breath and kissed it anyway, making her knees go weak. "Stop." Mary whispered again and Francis nodded, bending down to the floor to grab her dress. He put it back over her body, helping her with the sleeves and then grabbing her shawl that had also felt on the floor. After dressing her up, he kissed her forehead and led her to the chaise, sitting with her body wrapped in his. They didn't say anything for a few moments, Francis didn't know what to say and Mary was afraid of him asking too many questions.
"I don't know how to be a woman for you again." Mary whispered as she stared at the fire and tried to explain herself to Francis. She didn't know how to talk about; she had never talked about that with anyone but her ladies. Of course she spared them of details, but they knew that Mary was forced by Thomas to do things she was not pleased not comfortable with and that he was rough on bed, they had seen several bruises on several mornings while dressing her. After realizing that their Queen, their friend, has been trapped into an abusive relationship, each one of them had done a wordlessly promise to take care of her and help her as much as they could, since save her of that man was something they couldn't. "I want Anne to be raised by you. To be raised by her father." And again Mary felt like the height of a country was lifted of her back as she said those words. "But I can't be your wife." Francis closed his eyes, trying to focus on Mary and not on the man who had done that to her. Who had transformed her. He took in the scent of her hair and that was enough to calm him down.
"Yes, you can." Francis whispered as he turned herself on his arms and put her legs over his, caressing it over the silk of her dress. She smiled even as tears threatened to fall. "We have all the time in the world, Mary." He caressed her cheek and she closed her eyes, melting into his touch. "I need you by side. As the mother of my child, as my Queen, as my friend. And as soon as you're ready, my lover." Mary smiled as tears streamed down her cheeks and Francis wiped them with his fingers. She had waited so much to hear those words from Francis. To feel his lips on hers and his touch over her body. And as much as she was not ready to give herself fully to him, she was ready to finally be happy.
"Are you sure about this?" She stared at his blue eyes that were exactly like Anne's. "It won't be easy, Francis. We're not the same kids who felt in love for each other. I'm a Queen, you're a King. We have natural enemies and we will win some more as soon as we announce our engagement." Francis smiled as he heard those words leaving her mouth. "Including your mother, who hates me." She shook her head as she always did when reasoning and he continued to smile. As much as she denied the existence of the old Mary, he knew that some parts of her were still there. And he loved to see it out again.
"She won't be a problem anymore." Francis shook his head and Mary stared at him, raising her eyebrow, remembering a lot how Catherine hated her when she came back from the convent. "She claims she had her reasons to keep us apart, reasons that I don't believe nor want to discuss about. The important is that she will support us. She said it to me."
"She knows about Anne, doesn't she?" Mary asked and Francis nodded.
"She's not sure, but she was the one who enlightened me on this." Mary looked down at her lap where her fingers played with Francis' and felt somehow embarrassed for hiding this from him, even knowing there was no way the truth could be discovered. Francis noticed her, too used with her body language, and was quick on touching her chin and raising her head back. "She had spies on the Portuguese. She knew by the time that Anne was born that she was not the size of a premature baby and somehow she knew that we had been intimate before you left." Francis couldn't help but notice Mary blushing as he said the last part.
"Why does this not surprise me?" Mary asked and Francis laughed. Mary laughed with him with a genuine smile in her face and Francis couldn't hold himself to not kiss her. The kiss was delicate, sweet, with absolutely no rush, and Francis felt Mary smile against his lips. "I must go." Mary whispered as they broke the kiss. "Anne must be waiting for me. And tomorrow, before we confirm any kind of commitment between us, I need to speak with my uncle and get in touch with my mother and some of advisors. This won't be just a marriage between us. It might mean an alliance between our countries."
"And I wouldn't want it any other way." Francis smiled as Mary got up from the chaise. He followed her, not letting her hand out of his grasp. "England is watching any of your movement now that you don't have Portugal's protection. France will support and protect Scotland in everything you need."
"Thank you. For everything." Mary smiled caressing Francis' cheek and he smiled back at her, leaning forward to give her a quick peck on the lips.
"You have nothing to thank me for, Mary." Francis smiled and as Mary stared deep into his blue eyes, she knew that she was finally where she belonged to.
~0~
Three months later at the Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris, Mary I, Queen of Scotland wed Francis II, King of France, under the eyes of his loving mother, her happy friends and their proud daughter. The French, their people, cheered from outside the Cathedral as Mary became Queen of France and Francis King of Scotland, promising a brighter future for the country.
"How are you feeling, my dear?" Catherine whispered into Anne's ear as they stood hearing the priest finishing the ceremony. "Happy?"
"Very much." Anne smiled happily to the woman behind her. "Can I tell you a secret?" Catherine nodded, enchanted with that little girl.
"Of course, darling."
"Mother has never smiled as much as she smiles when she is near Francis." Anne whispered, already calling Francis by his first name, as he had asked her as soon as he and Mary told the little girl they were getting married.
"And can I tell you a secret?" Catherine smiled to the little girl and she nodded.
"Francis has never smiled as much as he smiles when he is near your mother." Anne held back a little laugh, knowing better than to make any noise inside the church. And as her mother and her father walked down the aisle to the outside of the church, she couldn't help but smile too.