Mary hurried towards the king's chambers; she had been pacing and fervently praying in her room since the tournament had ended. The memory of the horrifying sight as the king lay on the ground, blood seeming to pour unendingly from his helmet like a fountain, chilled Mary to the bones. However, her thoughts had not been filled with concern for the king but rather for her husband. Francis had fought so vehemently to save his father. Even when he knew that Henry was lost, he still wanted to keep him safe- hidden securely away in a prison. And now he had failed.

He admired his father so much, yearning for his love- his respect, wanting to be a ruler that Henry could be proud of. She wished Henry could see how much Francis wanted to be accepted by his father. She wished the king could see how wonderful of a leader Francis already was, not because of him, but in spite of him. She wished for Francis not be torn apart by his father's fate because he had made it himself. She wished… She wished so many things.

When the page brought her news that Francis had returned to the castle, Mary rubbed at her temple and dragged a hand through her already bedraggled hair, a habit she had picked up from her husband since their marriage, before smoothing her dress and hurrying out the door. Her attendants rushed after her, trying to straighten her hair and holding candles before her to light the dark corridors. The flickering candlelight seemed to cast even more shadows instead of lighting the way, making the stone passageways even more ominous and dark.

Now as she neared the king rooms she heard wails and cries filled with anguish echoing off the stones. Was the king dead?! Her feet quickened in hopes of helping the wails shape into words. "Long live the King. The king is dead! Long live the king!" As the shouts became clear, her feet turned to stone, no longer able to carry her closer to the hall. Her attendants halted around her, twittering like birds. She wanted to bat them away, yell at them to be quiet but she had lost her voice. She was frozen in place, her heart seemed to have fallen to her feet, the air sucked from her lungs. Her soul hurt for Francis, for his loss. She knew how deeply this would cut him. She prayed he had gotten a chance to say goodbye, to see Henry once last time, maybe even receive a blessing from his predecessor.

Then the world came back to life, the cries filled her ears, the breath rushed into her lungs, and she knew where she needed to be- with Francis. She hitched her skirt and took off as fast as her legs would carry her; leaving her entourage behind, each step she knew carried her closer to her other half. She took the last turn to the king's hall and skidded to a halt. There before her were Francis and Bash- brothers united in a desperate hug. She could see their pain, but she could also see the strength they drew from each other. Her hands absentmindedly rubbed the rosary beads she forgotten she held as she sent up a prayer for their relationship to continue to mend. They would need each other even more now than ever before.

The candlelight from her rushing attendants finally catching up, glinted off of Francis' cheeks which were awash with tears. Francis didn't need an audience to his pain. Quickly, she turned and curtly dismissed the ladies. They bowed and reluctantly backed out of the corridor. She turned back to the brothers; maybe she should leave as well? Before she could decide, Francis spotted her. His eyes begged her to stay as he drew away from Bash. The older brother's eyes followed his younger brother's gaze to Mary. Mary nodded her acknowledgement, but her eyes quickly flitted back to her husband. A crowd of courtiers started to spill out of the king's chambers, without speaking the brothers seemed make a decision. With a barely noticeable bow of the head, Bash headed towards the growing crowd.

Francis took a shaky breath, running his own fingers through his hair. Mary couldn't wait any longer and ran into her husband's arms.

"It's alright. I'm here. I'm here…"

The familiar words tumbled from her lips- her mind filling with the time Francis soothed her with those very words not so many months ago. This time she was his comforter- she was the pillar for him to draw strength from. He fell into her familiar embrace but she could tell he was fighting to remain in control of his emotions, probably already thinking about the duties he had waiting for him.

"Mary," Francis choked out, "he's dead. My father, the King of France, is dead." His voice sounds hollow, dead, so lacking in the warmth normally filling his words.

"I know, my love," she wished she could take his pain away. She grasped for anything to say to soften his pain, to make him share his burdened with her.

"It's not your fault," she tried.

Francis stiffened and pulled away from her- her arms already ached to pull him back. He looks into her eyes, his own shadowed and broken. "But it is," the words tumbled out of his mouth barely above a whisper.

She grabbed his hands, drawing him closer, and moved to place a palm on his tear soaked cheek, "No, Francis, no. I know it feels like it right now, but you can't blame yourself for things you can't control."

New tears threaten to spill from his eyes, and he opened his mouth as if to depart his deepest secrets.

"Uhmmm," one of Henry's advisors, the Duke of Bourbon, cleared his throat behind them. Apparently Bash hadn't been completely successful in keeping the courtiers away.

Francis whirled towards the older man, clearly startled, before straightening himself to his full height, appearing every bit the royal he is.

"Forgive me, your high…uhmm… your majesty, for interrupting. But there is much to attend to now, you are needed in the council chambers," the duke informed Francis, clearly flustered by his mistake but also sizing up the French inheritor. His keen eyes searched the new king for any weakness so that he could take full advantage of the new king.

"I will be there in a moment, thank you, Sir Charles," Francis replied crisply, leaving no room for argument or doubt that the duke had been dismissed.

Mary's heart swelled with pride, her Francis was going to be such a wonderful king, even in his pain he was a commanding presence. She watched the duke grudgingly turn down the hall before pulling Francis to her one more time.

After a moment, she pulled away and fetched her handkerchief from her waistband. She gently dried his cheeks, placing a tender kiss on each side when she finished. Mary backed away to get a good look at him, and he parted his lips about to continue what he was saying earlier.

"Francis, we don't have time now. Meet me after you talk to the council. We can talk then," she whispered as she straightened his hair. She watched him nod reluctantly; he knew they had duties beyond their own needs and they would have to wait for later. Now it was time for him to act like the king he now was, to put his life of training into action.

He grabbed her hands between his- crushing the fine kerchief, "thank you." Those two words spoke volumes and were filled with emotion and she felt them all keenly in her heart. She leaned forward, their lips crashed together and for one desperate moment they were lost in each other. The pain, the responsibility didn't exist. They were just a man and just a woman- in love, together.

Feeling the heavy eyes of court creep into their moment, they broke the kiss. Mary offered her husband a smile of encouragement before breaking their clasping hands. Looking down at the crushed silk kerchief she made a quick decision and reached up, tucking it into his coat over his heart.

"I'm here. With you," Mary said as she placed her hand on the outside of the smooth leather jacket, "always."

A small burden seemed to be lifted from his tired shoulders. Placing his hand over hers, "and I am yours," he leaned in for one last kiss, "always."

He squared his shoulders and turned to join his father's advisors.


A/N: This story was written for Queen Meggy, I hope you enjoy your tribute. ;)

Many thanks to CallieCat and Sophie for editing this story! They are both amazing and brilliant.