AN: Inspired by longing for both Jane who is now dead and Francis who probably isn't coming back for season 4:( as well as an awesome AU video I saw the other day about them as a couple. Sorry for the possible OC of Francis' character but I'm not good with writing guys.
If Jane was ever pressed. ( Under questioning in the Tower for instance) she would not be able to recall when her opinion of him changed or when she had fallen in love with him.
Not even she, the one who had committed such a sin, could have seen this coming.
She was supposed to be the meek one, the mild one, the one who was hoped to give the King his long awaited heir.
She was a devoted Catholic, she was modest, she was pure.
Her body was sacred, untouchable.
Not anymore.
No one, especially not the former Anne Boleyn could've ever thought that Jane Seymour, plain Jane could fall in love with a man who was the living image of everything she was against.
Jane could not explain it.
She did not condone it.
But by God she could not stop it.
June, 1536.
It was shortly after her marriage.
She and Henry were dining at the Royal table where their Majesties and a chosen few sat each night to dine.
Henry was talking to his friend Charles and Jane was bored, but she made sure that she still smiled radiantly.
A good Queen always masks her feelings.
Suddenly, as though he were a ghost a strange man appeared and immediately turned to her. Jane sat up slightly straighter as Henry turned his attention toward her. He clasped her hand in a display of affection that she was not quite sure that she returned and spoke.
" Sweetheart. This is Sir Francis Bryan, my new Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber."
Silently Jane appraised Francis for a few moments.
He was a rough looking man with an eye patch over one eye, he looked as in he belonged in the local tavern drinking and whoring himself to death instead of here at the King's side, but then, perhaps that was what the King liked about him.
That there was more than what there appeared to be.
" Sir Francis." She said, trying to make her voice sound engaged and yet indifferent all at the same time, but instead it came out with a slight hint of disbelief at his appearance.
When he raised his eyebrow and grinned mockingly she could tell he had noticed.
" Majesty." He said, bowing so deeply that it to was almost mocking. Henry, as usual, appeared not to notice, having already turned back to Charles and eyeing up another of her Ladies in Waiting.
Her heart gave a slight spasm of pain as she noticed his eyes wondering, but she had known that it would be like this. It was the burden of being a Queen, but even Jane had not anticipated that it would be quite so soon.
She nodded at Sir Francis and, like the skilled courtier he was, he knew it was a dismissal. Just for a moment Jane imagined there was pity on his face but she couldn't be sure if it was just a trick of the light.
Jane sat there for a few moments, reflecting, until her brother subtly nudged her and harsly told her to smile.
So, suppressing a large sigh, she smiled again as she raised her goblet to her lips.
When Jane had dreamed of marriage, this certainly wasn't what she had invisanged.
It was ironic really, a million girls would kill to be a Queen and yet she would rather be happier married to a Squire and living in a small manor in the country.
At least there she might've been happy.
She had only protested once.
He had met her, each time always in a different place and their meetings were few and far between since they both knew that at best, she would be exiled or, at worst, put to death for daring to cuckold the King.
Jane knew her husband well enough to know that it would most likely be the latter.
As for Francis, it would be a slow, agonizing death.
They could only meet when the King was kept to bed, ill with pain, which happened more and more as the weeks passed.
He did not want to see her then. His vanity and fear of showing weakness or age, prevented that.
" Francis." She had whispered, always being careful, always quiet, even during their lovemaking they could not make a sound.
" Hmm?" he murmured against her hair.
" I…." She hesitated for a moment.
" I think this should end."
" What?" he was fully alert now.
" End?" Us? End?" he repeated, as though he couldn't understand English.
She nodded, nearly begging him to forget the matter entirely when she saw the murderous look that passed across his face. But it was too dangerous to just forget.
As a Queen of England, let alone one who was cuckolding her husband with another man, danger was her constant companion.
" I think my brother is becoming suspicious. I find him glancing at me oddly and whenever we meet I seem to have a glow about me, he asked me why I was so… happy."
Francis looked startled.
Jane plowed on.
" And it is true. With you, I am happy. Happier than I have ever been as Queen of England."
" I can handle Edward, Jane." He said, smirking slightly.
" But he is not the only one who has noticed. Cromwell has as well."
" Cromwell?" he sat up abruptly and gripped her shoulders tightly.
" As my kin, Edward would have some discretion, but Cromwell would love any chance to bring down me, the Catholic Queen and the Seymour's with me." She said, trying not to tremble at the thought of what would happen to them if Cromwell found out.
"Are you sure that Cromwell has noticed? Francis said worriedly. If he had then they were both dead.
"Nothing concrete. I am certain, but he has many spies and he will stop at nothing to pull me down. "
" That is why we must stop this." Jane said, carrising his cheek softly.
" I don't know if I can." Francis admitted.
This was dangerous, he was dangerously close to falling in love with the Catholic Queen of England and a Seymour to boot.
" I don't know if I can either." Jane said.
" But we must try."
She blinked back tears and removed herself from his embrace.
He watched her go with an intense look of longing on his face.
For her, he would try.
They had lasted 3 months.
Three months of longing glances across rooms, Jane's resolution to be a more attentive wife to Henry and Francis's affairs with Ursula Misseldon and Anne Stanhope.
Each trying to forget the other.
The Kings leg was paining her yet again.
Francis was lying in bed.
Alone.
Desperately trying to forget about the most forbidden of all fruits.
If he had not realised before then, then he had certainly realised it now.
He was in love with Jane Seymour.
He groaned out loud with the stupidity of it all.
Francis Bryan was not in love with her.
He refused to be.
Suddenly, as if it were a dream, Jane's fair head peered around the door.
" Francis?" she said, once she was inside.
" Jane?" he sat bolt upright.
" What in God's name are you doing here? I thought you said…"
" I know what I said." She smiled her angelic smile at him, the one he could never resist and climbed on top of him.
He didn't have the will to fight her.
" And I don't care. I can't live this way any more. I am still not with child and the King will not speak to me." Her voice betrayed her hurt even though she did not truly love the King.
" I love you." She said so softly that she might not have said it at all.
A light blush graced her cheeks.
He didn't answer, not having much expirence in the way of feelings but she could tell he felt the same when he kissed her more passionately than ever.
He rolled over so that he was on top of her and after that there was no more talking.
An understanding had passed between them, and they were both prepared to risk the consequences.
They were both too selfish to do otherwise.
****
Jane became pregnant soon after that and to this day Francis did not know whether Edward was his or the King's.
He remembered clearly the evening she had told him.
" Francis." She had said almost as soon as she entered the room.
" I am with child." She blurted out.
For once in his life Francis was shocked.
" Is it…?" he left the question unspoken.
" I am not sure." She said, but even as she looked down at her hands, he saw a small cross her lips.
" I hope it is his Jane. I truly hope so." He said gravely.
For he did not need to tell her what could happen if the child looked like him.
He knew she was ill, but Francis did not want to consider the possibility that she might die. He knew it was foolish but he convinced himself that she would be fine.
Then she was dead. Dead. Gone. Her son had survived.
Edward she had named him. As blonde and fair as she had been.
Francis wasn't sure if this strange feeling in his chest was his heart breaking.
He sill couldn't believe that she was dead until he saw her still, pale face, eyes closed, in a coffin.
It took all his strength not to shove the King aside and take her by the shoulders and shake her.
Get her to wake up.
Later that night he had drowned his sorrows at the local tavern and with one of the blonde wenchs, like he had always done before when he was upset or angry, or both.
But this time was so much different.
He remembered her last words to him.
He was in a bad mood because Jane had laughed and danced attendance on the King all evening and not even spared him a glance. He was unaccustomed to sharing anything with anyone and though she was not even his to begin with it still stung. Even though it was crucial to both their lives that she continue to play the part of doting wife it still pained him.
" Oh Francis." Jane had laughed softly upon sensing his bad mood.
" You know I have been yours since you first smiled upon me and asked what such a perfect angel was doing here in this court full of devils."
He smiled then for he too, remembered that moment with perfect clarity.
Francis had claimed her fiercely, many times that night and if he had had his way he would've never let her go.
" I love you. Remember that."
Then she was gone.
There had been many women in his life, and no doubt there would be more.
But none like her.
He visited little Edward as often as he dared on the pretext of seeing his mother, just to gaze upon his face that was utterly hers.
But when Edward smiled, Francis could see his own smile, one that he hadn't used since her death, reflected back at him.
A mirror image.