A/N: As a historian, I've never liked Mary and I just didn't really care about Francis. Then Reign comes along and makes me love them together only for Mary to start messing up everything. Francis did his fair share to mess with their relationship, but he had good reason. If the ambition shows up, I plan to do a series of unconnected one-shots of various points throughout season 2 for the Frary pairing. Number one, set after they argue about Mary's fertility and Francis goes to see his son that night.
Francis sat at the crib-side of his infant son. He thought over everything he had done recently in his life. The law said that he was old enough to be a king without needing his mother, or anyone else, as a regent, but all the evidence was strongly pointing to that being incorrect. His moment impersonating Montgomery was supposed to bring peace to France, to his mother, and to Mary. All it had done was to give a Nobleman more power.
His musings turned ever-darker. His choice could cost him his own life. He knew that when he made it. What he hadn't realized was that Catherine and Mary had attempted to kill Henry earlier and thus could also be implicated as conspirators. This would put them in danger of execution as well. He had to bow to Narcisse's wishes until he found all the witnesses and got rid of them or persuaded them not to talk. He couldn't tell Mary about any of it, to protect her, as he continually reminded himself. It was for her own good.
It was causing her to hate him. He was becoming less that king that he wanted to be with each passing day. And thus, less and less the king and man she wanted to be married to. That lie about her not giving him an heir, it slipped out so easily. He was disappointed that they had yet to have a child, to be sure. He didn't blame Mary. He didn't blame anyone. The look on her face when he had said the most vile, the most hurtful words he could summon to her- he would never forgive himself as long as he lived for how he had just broken her heart.
Mary's heart was his to protect, as her husband. But then, so was her neck. He was more concerned about the latter, at the present moment, but his chest ached at the cruelty of his words.
Learning farther over the cradle, he gently stroked his fingertips over the forehead of the sleeping baby. "You're the only good thing I've done with my life, you know that? You're so perfect. You're so untainted by the evils of this world."
A voice from the darker reaches of the room almost made Francis jump, "I certainly hope you don't truly believe that." Lola, Mary's lady's maid and mother of his child had been watching and listening. He knew she was there. These were her chambers and he knew that, more often than not, she preferred to take care of their son herself rather than rely on a nanny during the night.
Francis thought about standing, as was proper, to greet her, but they were in far too intimate a setting for either of them to really stand on propriety. "Lola," he chose to incline his head instead, "uh, what do you mean?" It was too late in the night and it had been far too trying of a day for Francis to worry about his eloquence.
Lola cleared her throat and sat down next to him, also looking in at their baby. "You said that he's the only good thing you've done with your life. While I agree that he's quite wonderful, and handsome, and I love him more than I can describe, his screaming through half the night assures me that he's not perfect." She leaned over to softly hold his little hand, "and you've done quite a bit good with your life."
Without taking his eyes off his child's face, he responded, "I've done an excellent job of making a mess of everything else good I've done, though. I've been anything but the kind of king I wanted to be. I've been an even worse husband." Francis tore his gaze away from the cradle and turned to face Lola, noticing the movement, Lola met his gaze. "Lola, I have done so very many things wrong. I've allowed myself to be coerced by nobles into doing things that I don't think right when she's been telling my what is right each step of the way. The only good things the crown has done recently have been Mary's doing and all I keep doing is breaking her heart, over and over again." He dropped his line of sight back to the small rise and fall of the infant's chest.
Lola placed a hand on his shoulder, "Francis, it hasn't been all that bad. I know Mary still loves you and wants to believe in you. You've yet to do something unforgivable."
Francis let out a rueful chuckle, "Lola, I locked my wife in a tower."
"And she forgave you for that! She not only forgave both of us for this," Lola gestured at their baby, "but she also volunteered to be his godmother. Whatever is going on, she will forgive you if you work on it and talk with her." Lola stood up and began to walk away, but paused, "You need to not shut her out. She'll be there for you as long as you'll let her." The click of Lola's heel faded as Francis continued to sit in the glow of the fire and his child.
A soft knock could be heard as Mary sat in front of her and Francis' hearth, thinking over everything that had been said earlier that night. Francis had left their chambers after their blowout. He wouldn't knock, would he? Standing and straightening her dressing gown, Mary called, "Enter!" to the guard at the doors. Lola strode in and her panic spiked momentarily. It was very late at night.
"Lola, to what do I owe this visit at such a late hour?" Lola stopped a few feet away and curtsied slightly.
"May I speak plainly, as your friend and not as your Lady?" Mary nodded. "Mary, do you want to let me know why your husband is sitting up with his baby in my chambers, preventing me from taking advantage of the fact that the baby is actually asleep?"
Mary sat back down and gestured for Lola to join her. "Ahh, so that's where he went. I knew that was a strong possibility." Her voice caught, "Particularly considering the way that we left things." Mary took hold of the goblet of wine she'd been sipping at and took a larger pull than she had really meant to. Francis was disappointed in her for not being able to bear him a child so he went to visit the one he already had. Of course he had. It made sense.
Lola leaned across the short divan and grasped the cup. She gently took it from Mary and set it on the table in front of them. "Mary, it's not my life, but the last time that you and Francis had a fight and you had too much to drink, you ended up kissing Bash." The two traded weary smiles. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Mary sighed deeply, "I'm really not sure what there is to talk about. He wants an heir and I have been unable to give him one. Ever since I found out that you were carrying his child, I worried that yours would be the only child he would have and it seems he now shares this fear. We traded harsh words about it. Or rather, I pushed him into saying some very harsh words. I asked for the truth and he told me. I just wasn't emotionally prepared to hear it."
Lola slid closer to draw Mary to her. "Mary, I don't think he meant it. I was just speaking with him. He seems very distraught over the state of both the kingdom and your marriage. He blames himself for everything. I think all of the stress is getting to him and he let it out in a moment of frustration. You should go to him. Be with him." There was a short pause. "and for goodness' sake, let me sleep!" The two girls dissolved in giggles reminiscent of much younger years before Mary stood.
"You think that the husband I fell in love with and married is there?"
"I really do, Mary. Go. You'll see."
Mary squared her shoulders and walked toward her doors.
Francis heard the door open behind him, but assumed it was Lola returning and didn't stir. The walk was feminine, but it didn't sound like Lola. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a face that he wasn't expecting, "Mary!" He began to stand and to remove his hand from the crib where it had been resting.
Mary raised a finger to her lips, "Shh, Francis, don't wake your son." She approached him slowly and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder while looking beyond him at the sleeping babe. She smiled, as she always had looking at this child. She held no ill-will toward him, or the manner of his conception anymore. She loved Francis and Lola both. Her jealousy was minimal and was only there at all because of her failure to provide a son. Moving around the bench, she sat next to Francis.
"Mary, I- "
"Francis, please." Mary cut off her husband before he could bring up their earlier fight. She had been rehearsing what she wanted to say the entire walk to this wing of the castle. "I don't want to reopen our fight. I don't want to fight at all. Lola came to our chambers when she left here. She seemed to think that you could use me in here."
Francis sighed and looked from Mary, to the baby, to the fire and back. He continued this rotation uneasily.
"Francis." Mary took his unoccupied hand and twined their fingers together. She began running her other hand up and down his arm. "I love you. I trust you. I trust that in all decisions you make, you are choosing what you absolutely think is best for the situation that you are in. I shouldn't have pressured you so much tonight. I wish you would let me in more and allow me to help more. But I'm accepting that you can't or won't." She brought their joined hands up to her mouth and gently kissed the back of his hand before lowering them and lowering her head to his shoulder. "So, when you can't or won't, just tell me. I'll still be here. You can draw strength from me even if I don't know the situation." She coaxed him into turning his gaze to meet hers, "I'm here for you, Francis."
Their lips met, knowing that nothing was fixed. Nothing was resolved. They both still felt the weight of their arguments, sharp words, and disagreements in their hearts, but all was not as bleak as it had been an hour ago.
A/N: Reign is not mine. I haven't finished it yet, but I do know what happens. I keep reminding myself that I don't care about Mary and that Elizabeth I is my favorite monarch, but that doesn't seem to be working!
Also, I understand that this is the best-sleeping baby ever.