A/N: I recently came across this piece of angst while cleaning out my files. Just a short little bit of angst.
Disclaimer: I own nothing put the order in which this words are strung together.
He was engulfed in a thick fog, his limbs felt like slabs of stone dragging him down away from the fading light. He knew that beyond that fog lay pain, unending pain- his head would fill with deafening pounding and his body would burn up as if he were in the very depths of hell itself. But even worse than the pain was being powerless; his body betraying him- no longer even able sit up of his own accord let alone rule his nation. Yet Francis still desperately struggled to somehow, someway break though the haze because he knew that Mary was on the other side, never leaving his side. He needed to see her, to one last time tell his wife that he loved her, to make sure she would be all right. Every fiber of his being strained- the pull of the end being defeated even if temporarily by the pull Mary had over him.
"Mary," Francis whispered through cracked lips. His beloved wife sitting beside their bed quickly pulled her head up from where it had been resting on his hand. She made an effort to hide her wet cheeks, her tired eyes still holding back unshed tears.
"Francis," Mary breathed, her eyes filling with hope. "Save your strength, my love." Desperate to find words to encourage him, she blurted out, "The doctors said you are getting better- that you're going to be better in no time." Her words sounding false and empty even to her own ears.
As if God was granting him time for a final farewell, the haze cleared and pain lessened. For the first time in days he had a moment of lucidity. Francis cleared his throat desperate to get out what he felt would be his last words, "Mary, you are so strong. Stronger than you even know. Trust your heart and don't be easily swayed away from its guidance. Do not lose your way and become someone you are not. You will be a great queen. I know it," finality filling his words. He wanted to say more, to somehow comfort her but those words seemed to fade away into the returning fog the moment of clearness lost.
"Francis," Mary bottom lip trembled, "Don't say these things. We are going to rule together, we have our whole lives before us."
Francis brought his fingers up to trace her cheek as if he didn't hear her pleas. "I love you, always," he said reverently as exhaustion and pain edge their way back into his eyes.
Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks, "And I love you." Francis closed his eyes, drifting back into the fog. She laced her fingers with her husband's, placing a kiss on the back of his hand and whispered, "until the day I die."