Within Temptation
By Draic Kin of the Balance
"Sparkling angel I believed
You were my savior in my time of need.
Blinded by faith I couldn't hear
All the whispers, the warnings so clear.
I see the angels,
I'll lead them to your door.
There's no escape now,
No mercy no more.
No remorse cause I still remember
The smile when you tore me apart.
You took my heart,
Deceived me right from the start.
You showed me dreams,
I wish they would turn into real.
You broke the promise and made me realize.
It was all just a lie.
Sparkling angel, I couldn't see
Your dark intentions, your feelings for me.
Fallen angel, tell me why?
What is the reason, the thorn in your eye?" ~Within Temptation, Angels
"It's time, Mary," says one of the nuns. "King Henri believes it is time you returned to the French court. You're eighteen years old. It's time you married the young Francis." I look up towards her from my novel, startled.
"Wait, now?" I ask. "Are you sure? I've been holed up here in this nunnery for almost ten years, waiting on a marriage that may or may not happen." I set my book down and approach her. "It's 2015, for god's sake. The English haven't made any attempts on my life, surprisingly…and now I have to go back to court?"
"Do you not want to marry the dauphin?" she presses me. I stare at her. How can I possibly explain it to her? Being forced into an arranged marriage to a husband who may or may not love you? Everyone knows of how King Henri flaunts his mistress Diane de Poitiers around court as his wife Catherine is forced to stand by and pretend as if it doesn't bother her. Will Francis even love me?
"I understand the importance of our marriage for the sake of our countries," I begin slowly. "Scotland needs France's support against England and vice versa. It was Henri's idea – this engagement, but it's entirely political. It's not a marriage out of love." And I've always dreamed and hoped that my future husband would love me, although I suppose I've always known my marriage would be one of politics and not love. I refuse to be trapped in a loveless marriage like that of Henri and Catherine, but if it means securing Scotland's future, so be it.
"You didn't answer my question, Mary." Sister Margaret gives me a pointed look and I groan inwardly. "Do you want to marry Francis?"
"Can you just give me Henri's letter, please?" I ask her. She reluctantly obliges and gives it to me. I take it from her and unfold it, reading it aloud.
Sister Margaret,
My family and I thank you for the protection you and your nunnery have offered Mary Stuart. Things have been rather tense here at court. We can feel the omnipresent threat of the English looming over our heads; they're like a snake poised to strike and we are just waiting for them to attack.
You are well aware of Mary's engagement to my son Francis and that they are to wed once they are of age. Francis has reached nineteen years; he is strong and healthy and a good match, I believe, for Mary. Mary will give Francis many sons and give the Valois dynasty the foothold it needs. A date has yet to be decided for the wedding, but in just due time, they will be married.
My loving wife Catherine, I will tell you, is not too keen on the prospect of a Stuart-Valois marriage. I will handle my wife. Please, send Mary to court as soon as possible. The sooner, the better.
H.
"I really don't have a choice, do I?" I could feel my heart racing and my palms beginning to sweat. Fuck, I am terrified. "I have to go to court and marry Francis."
"Let's go, Mary," says Sister Margaret. "No use in putting it off."
The limousine pulls up in front of the Louvre and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I'm overwhelmed by the immensity and beauty of the palace. This is where I'm going to live for the rest of my life. With my husband. I open the door and climb out; the entire court is standing outside, waiting for me. I take a deep breath and walk towards them. I am not a regular teenager anymore, perhaps I never was. I am Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, soon to be the Queen of France.
"Mary! Mary!" I'm suddenly attacked by my friends – Lola, Greer, Kenna and Aylee – as they all hug me. We end up falling to the ground as one mess of laughter and happiness.
"I've missed you all so much!" I exclaim, rising to my feet. "It's been so long!" As we all get to our feet, in my peripheral vision, I see Henri and Catherine. There is a glint of pride in the king's eyes, but Catherine is unreadable. I can sense her displeasure; I can't help but wonder why she is so opposed to my marriage to her son.
"We were getting kind of lonely without you!" confesses Aylee. "Sure, there are plenty of cute guys here but it just isn't the same without you!" I don't know why, but I feel myself blushing and my friends burst out laughing again.
"It's good to have you back, Mary," says Kenna. "Just in time, too. The engagement party is tonight; the castle's making preparations even as we speak."
"Engagement party?"
"Yeah, to celebrate your upcoming wedding to the dashing Francis!" she exclaims. "It's supposed to be a huge event. Think of it as your welcome home party." I force a smile. Of course, there's going to be a party. It's the French court. Almost nothing is bigger than a wedding or a coronation. "Oh my god, is…is that Francis? And his brother – no, half-brother – Sebastian?" I turn around and I see them. They are both tall and good on the eyes; one of them has short blond hair, the other has dark-brown hair.
"Isn't the darker one Francis?" Greer asks, but I can barely hear her over the hammering of my heart as Francis approaches us.
You can do this, Mary. You've known Francis since childhood, it's not as if you're meeting your husband just the night before your wedding. Get your shit together, you're a queen. My hands are trembling and I hope that he doesn't notice what a nervous wreck I am. Francis bows before me and smiles.
"Your Grace," he greets me.
"No, call me Mary, please!" I insist. "I mean, if we're going to be married soon, we might as well be on a first name basis."
"Of course, of course." Francis offers his hand to me. "Francis." I take it and for the first time since I got here, my smile is actually genuine. "Glad to have you back, Mary."
"Thank you," I stammer, surprised by the genuineness of his words. My heart flutters in my chest for a second. "Would you mind showing me around the castle?"
"No, not at all!" Francis offers me his arm. I'm startled by this gesture, but I take his arm nonetheless. I can hear my ladies snickering behind me; they're going to bombard me with questions about my fiancé as soon as they get the chance. We make our way inside the castle and I'm overwhelmed. It is so beautiful and so…huge. The ceiling is decorated in religious art; in one, the archangel Lucifer falls from Heaven and in another, Cain kills Abel in traditional, brutal and bloody fashion.
"I remember chasing you in these halls when we were children," I find myself saying. I smile and chuckle at the memory. "Your legs were always longer than mine; it was always hard to keep up with you."
"You were one tough cookie, Mary," Francis says. "You were the feistiest five year old I'd ever seen in my life."
"Shut up, I don't think I was that horrible!" I laugh, and playfully punch his shoulder. Francis laughs with me and for a moment, I feel it. I feel something between us. Something that has been long suppressed, waiting to be released. It's like the spark of a fire that is not yet ignited.
"No, you weren't that bad," he admits. We walk in silence for a few moments before he speaks again. "Our engagement party is tonight," he tells me.
"You don't sound particularly thrilled about it." Do you want this marriage? Do you want me? Or is there another who has your affections?
"We've been engaged since we were children, Mary," Francis explains. "I don't see why my father insists on throwing a party." He sounds bitter about it and I don't know why, but it hurts me. Does he see me only as a friend? Or an object, handed to him by his father? I want to ask him about our marriage, but I'm afraid of his answer.
"Kenna says that it's supposed to be a Welcome Back, Mary sort of thing, not just a celebration of our engagement," I point out. Francis shakes his head and I immediately know something's up. I drop my arm from his and face him directly.
"Francis, if you want to say something to me, just say it," I say in frustration. "Cut the bullshit and be honest with me. Do you want to marry me or not?" I've struck a nerve, for he stares at me for a few moments before storming off.
"Excuse me, Mary. I need to go," he says hurriedly. I'm shocked and hurt and infuriated by his sudden change in attitude. What the hell? One minute, we were reminiscing about our childhood and teasing and flirting with one another – the next, he's shutting me out and refusing to be open and honest with me!
"Francis! Francis! Francis!" I call. He doesn't even look back. I shake my head and roll my eyes, trying to suppress my disappointment. What were you expecting, Mary? For that moment of connection, if it was even there, to grow into something more? I laugh aloud at myself and my stupidity. Francis's elusiveness is all the proof I need. He doesn't want to marry me, and perhaps he never did.