(Continued from last chapter. After 2.09)
Mary opens her eyes. The chair Francis sat in the night before is no longer occupied. The book he was reading lies closed on the chair.
She sits up, scared. But she doesn't know if it's because Francis isn't here or if he isn't.
"Don't worry," a voice says. Mary searches the room and sees Francis buttoning up his shirt in the corner of the room. She lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Francis walks over to the bed and sits on the end. He does it cautiously, not wanting to hurt what they have now.
"What do you think of getting up and about today?" He asks.
Mary looks down. She could get used to lying in bed all day, but she knows what her duties are as queen. And she remembers what Catherine told her; she must not be a victim.
"I think I will," Mary says, pushing away the blankets.
Suddenly, the door opens and Mary is alert, ready to protect herself. Francis watches Mary for a moment, and her transformation as the door abruptly opens. Then he turns around and sees his mother in the doorway.
Catherine closes the door behind her.
"I'm sorry to frighten you, my dear." She says to Mary, who eases at the sight of Catherine. "I just wanted to urge you to leave your chambers, let your people know you are well."
Mary looks down.
"Mother, Mary is able to stay in bed if she needs," Francis says. "But she has already decided-"
"No, Catherine is right." Mary says.
Francis turns to face her with a wide smile on his face.
"What?" Mary asks, curious of his odd facial expression.
"It's been a while since you interrupted me," he says and Mary averts her eyes in shame. "I never thought that I'd miss it."
Mary look up and smiles at him. A smile he has missed seeing.
"Well," Catherine says, clapping her hands. She moves towards the bed. "Let's get started."
Francis offers his hand to Mary and prays that she will still take it.
"Hey, hey, hey, Francis," Catherine interrupts. "You know you need to keep your-"
Catherine's mouth shuts when she sees Mary take his hand. Surprised, she turns to them both.
Francis notices Catherine's bewilderment. "We've been taking small steps," he turns to Mary. "And this is the start."
Catherine nods in approval and pride. Proud, to have raised such a sensitive, caring son.
Francis stands, helping Mary off of the bed and onto her own two feet. The cold floor tickles Mary's bare toes.
Then she looks over in the corner to the spot. The spot.
Catherine notices. "Oh, and while you two are doing your duties as King and Queen, I will be rearranging your bedchambers."
Mary looks up with a raised brow, filled with gratitude. However, Francis is confused.
"Why do you-" He starts.
"It's awfully dull in here. And none of it is really working." Catherine says. She turns to the spot Mary looked at moments before. "And this! This rug is hideous! It shall be burnt to a crisp immediately!" Catherine announces.
"Mother, don't you think-" Francis begins, but is again cut off. This time, by his wife.
"I agree." Mary says.
Francis turns to look at Mary, and then realizes.
"Well, let's start the day." Says Mary.
Mary and Francis are about to round the corner towards the throne room when Francis stops them.
"What is it?" Mary asks.
Francis takes her hand in one of his and slowly moves his other to the small of her back.
Mary freezes and the oh-so familiar chant is back again and stronger than ever.
"Small steps…" Francis says, calmly. "But if you want me to-"
"No." Mary says without really realizing. She and Francis have been distant for far too long, and his touch is beginning to soothe her again. And remind her of happier times.
"Well, then. Shall we?" He asks her.
Mary nods, and they enter the throne room together.
Mary is tired. She lazily walks back to her chambers, wanting to fall into the soft cushions and sheets and drift into a peaceful slumber, but she know it won't be peaceful. In fact, she knows it will be awful.
She opens the door and is faced with a completely different room. One with no trace of the imposters. Not one trace. She can't even remember which spot was the spot anymore.
Mary smiles to herself. Perhaps the loss of this will weaken the memory, she thinks.
She changes into her nightgown and sits on a new, soft couch when Francis enters.
"Sorry it's later than usual. Lord Hollier wanted to go over some things with me." He says.
Mary nods, then goes back to fiddling with the cushion's threads.
Francis changes into his nightclothes. As he does up the strings, he turns to see Mary, with an agitated look on her face as she fumbles with the cushions.
"The room looks nice." He says, trying to take her mind off things.
Mary only nods.
Francis moves to the chair across from the couch Mary occupies.
"Mary, what is wrong?" He asks.
Mary then looks up. Finally, Francis can see her beautiful brown eyes and fall in love with them all over again.
"I had a wonderful day, today," she starts. "It was good for me, I think. I barely even thought about…" she lowers her head and furrows her brows. Mary takes a deep breath and continues, wanting to get her point out. "It's just, at night-time, I don't have a distraction. It is the only thing on my mind and I can't bring myself to think of anything else. And even when I fall asleep, it's what I dream about and-" Mary lets out a shaky breath as a tear falls down her cheek.
Francis has to think quickly. But he doesn't know what to do or say to make her pain go away. Normally, he would hug her or kiss her, but that probably wouldn't work.
When Mary buries her face in her hands, Francis begins.
"My love," he says, softly. Mary looks up and sees Francis has his two hands outstretched before her. She takes them reluctantly, not sure how this would help her.
Then, he begins to stand and pulls Mary with him, so they are standing face to face.
Francis slowly brings his hands to her face, as she allows hers to fall to her sides. He softly wipes her cheeks saying, "I love you."
Mary was nervous. She was scared that she would hate his touch, but she didn't. Knowing that it was him was what allowed her to bring her hands slowly and shakily to his sides.
"And since I am the man that loves you," Francis continues. He doesn't want his hands to leave her face now that her tears are gone, so he begins to put strands of hair behind her ear or draw circles on her cheeks.
Mary feels every movement and hangs on to every word.
"I want you to forget all the ways they hurt you," Francis says, staring deeply into Mary's eyes. "And remember all the ways that I love you."
A lone tear falls from Mary's eye.
"Can you think of a few?" Francis asks. Mary doesn't answer. "How about that time I rescued you from that monster Tomas?"
Mary almost rolls her eyes. "Yes, but you were the one who suggested I marry him in the first place."
"What a fool I was." Francis says. "Or what about our wedding?" Francis smiles. "That's a memory I often replay in my mind. You looked so beautiful in that white gown…"
Mary smiles at the memory, too.
Francis begins to walk Mary over to her side of the bed. "Or all of the countless times I told you I loved you and you didn't believe me. I think I said it about fifty times before you actually believed me."
Mary's smile becomes wider. "I think I did know…" she says. "I just wanted to keep hearing you say it."
Francis beams and leads her to the bed, where she lies down and pulls the covers up to her chest.
"You just remember all those things every night. And hopefully, that will do the trick." Francis says. He leans down and plants a whisper of a kiss on her forehead.
Then, he walks to the other side and sits in a chair beside the bed, opening his book.
"Francis," Mary says. He looks up. "It's better when I see your face. Your face instead of theirs…" she says.
"Oh," Francis stands up and stands by the bed.
"You don't have to read tonight…if you don't want to. I'd like to try and get into my normal routine again."
Francis freezes in happiness.
"Of course," he says, sliding in next to her. "But you just say the word if you feel uncomfortable."
"I will." She says, blinking more and more as her eyelids get heavy.
The last image she sees before she falls asleep is Francis.