Title: Solace

Disclaimer: I don't own Francis Walsingham or Queen Elizabeth, or their universe. I'm just borrowing them to play.

Summary: First Walsibeth fan fic! Be gentle please.


Getting into the queen's chambers had not been too much of an obstacle for a man like Francis Walsingham. He had slipped inside quietly and closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it securely before proceeding further into the room.

Everything was silent and still. The gentle breeze that filtered in through a partially opened window was the only thing that seemed to move. His sharp gaze analyzed his surroundings and swept over the furniture, finally focusing on the bed at the center of his vision. The gauze curtains were hanging down, obscuring the image of the one who lay behind them. He paused to listen again and heard nothing. The queen's silence caused fear to grow in his gut, she had not even budged since he entered the room, that in itself was surely a sign of some kind of injury. Whether her injury was sustained physically or mentally he could not say, but he was here to find out.

Walsingham strode over to the right side of the bed and swiftly parted the curtains. Elizabeth was startled by his sudden appearance, for she let out a cry and scrambled backwards, her limbs sprawled awkwardly around her. He could not stifle the remorse he felt, he knew it must have shown in his face as he looked at her.

"What do you want, sir?" She uttered once she more or less regained herself.

Her eyes were bloodshot and the skin beneath them puffy, her cheeks whiter than snow, and her wig disheveled from the way she had placed her head on her pillow. Since they arrived at the palace, she had not bothered to change gowns. She had simply fallen into bed wearing the same one she had gone to her prayers in and sent all of her ladies out in a voice that brooked no argument.

"I needed to see you, Majesty." -Was his honest reply. Francis watched her eyes as they softened toward him. Seeing her now made him all the more regretful that he was not there in time to prevent the assassin from even pointing the gun at her. This was definitely not the first time an attempt had been made on her life, but luckily it had been unsuccessful. The thought of a universe where Elizabeth was assassinated was a frightening one. He was the one who was supposed to keep her safe, for God's sake! He cursed himself then. What if the gun had been properly loaded and hit its intended mark? Then where would England be?

Strangely, Walsingham found that the thought of her death induced a mildly painful twinge in his chest. He knew it had absolutely nothing to do with the chaos the state would have to deal with, it was the mere idea of the death of this woman that was the cause of his anguish.

"So you have. I must apologise for my appalling looks, I admit that I am in no state to be seen by anyone except you." Elizabeth kept her voice soft but he was still able to hear it crack on her last few syllables.

"I have not come to judge your looks, Majesty. I am here to see how you are faring." Walsingham moved nearer to her and perched himself atop of the mattress.

"Ah. I see," She said, her gaze averted from his. He dared not break the silence, he could not think of anything to say to her to make her feel more secure. Anything he might have said to comfort her would have most likely been a lie, for every hour there was probably some plot being hatched against her in various parts of the country. He knew well how she hated insipid words of consolation.

Yet as Walsingham observed her stoic facade come crashing down, there was an immense flood of despair that washed over him that made him desperately wish he could provide some semblance of comfort to her.

Elizabeth's brows wrinkled in distress as her eyes filled with tears that promptly poured over her pallid cheeks. Her lips, those soft, pink lips that he had worshiped so many times with his own, trembled with emotion and parted to release a single sob that cut him to the quick.

"Francis-" The solitary murmur was an inescapable summons to him. He opened his arms to her wordlessly, she in turn sank into his warm embrace. He felt her fragile body shake with sobs, finally letting out all of the shock she had experienced when the boy pulled the trigger. One of his hands was placed at the base of her neck, the other around her tiny waist. He held her, kissed her, hoping to console her with his touch rather than with words.

"You're safe, Elizabeth, you're safe..." He whispered, stroking her damp cheek with the back of his hand.

She looked up at him, an unmistakable love shining in the depths of her stormy eyes, a feeling he knew was reflected in his own.

That tiny moment of solace filled them both with a strength that would last them through the tension of oncoming days.


A/N: Too sappy?? Let me know, review please!