I'd like to thank all those of you who've left reviews, favourited or followed. You've certainly encouraged me to get this second chapter up.
To those who might be wondering, there's dialogue and a bit of action in this one.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
II.
The newlyweds had been dancing and laughing and drinking for hours, but they had barely even touched the food of the banquet held in their honour. Catherine had been watching them bursting with happiness, a wide smile on her lips. For a while, all her worries were forgotten.
Her son was a man now. She was proud of him; she'd always been. But seeing him twirling Mary around the room, looking at her with adoration in his eyes, only made Catherine prouder. He now had a beautiful wife whom he loved deeply. Mary was everything she could have wanted for Francis; she was truly his equal. And they loved each other with a passion that Catherine had always wanted for herself and Henry. But she never got that; there were many things she had never got with Henry.
She shook her head slightly, trying to get rid of the thoughts that were threatening to embitter what remained of the feast. She smiled once more, thinking instead of what her son and his bride were about to go through. The consummation. Unlike hers, she was sure they would manage to go through it without being mortified. They might even come to enjoy it.
When it had been Catherine's time, well over two decades before, she'd been utterly scared. She had barely had the opportunity to even cross some words with her husband before being led to the bedchamber; he had practically been little more than a stranger to her. She'd been in a foreign country, with no friends whatsoever, surrounded by people she barely knew. She remembered being undressed by her ladies, standing in the room in only her nightgown. The old king Francis had come into the room and told her not to be afraid, with a reassuring smile on his lips. He'd kissed her forehead, calling her daughter, and then left the room. She'd been asked to enter the bed and wait for her husband to appear, and so she did, trembling under the covers, trying her best to keep her tears at bay. She'd been absolutely terrified.
She remembered hearing her husband and his friends coming closer to the bedchamber, laughing happily as they walked closer to the doors. Those laughs had made Catherine's blood freeze, bringing back painful memories; memories she had tried really hard to forget about. They made her start panicking; what would happen if he noticed? If he ever even suspected about had happened in Florence, about what those soldiers had done to her, he could easily repudiate her; he could get rid of her and send her back to that city. Who would have blamed him for repudiating a woman who hadn't gone into his bed intact? Would they have believed her if she'd told them what had happened? Would she be spared the humiliation and be allowed to remain his wife? She couldn't take that risk.
Henry had got inside the bed with her and dismissed everyone else, saying that there was no need for anyone else but the two of them to be present; after all, he wasn't the Dauphin, he was nothing more than the king's second son. He had smiled to her once they were all gone, climbing on top of her. She'd instantly flinched at his touch and shut her eyes tightly. His lips had kissed hers as he'd fought to lift her nightgown. Some tears escaped her eyes. Her trembling worsened.
Then, he suddenly stopped, having noticed her distress. He carefully removed her tears with a caress of his thumbs and kissed her lips sweetly. One of his hands remained resting on one of her cheek as he asked her to open her eyes. She did as he asked, and found him looking back at her, his eyes full of worry, affection and promises. He'd smiled and sworn he would never hurt her; he'd be a good husband; he'd take care of her and do his best to make her happy. She'd smiled in return and slightly nodded her head. She had believed him. In that moment, she had fallen for the man she had just married. His promises had vanished into thin air quite early after that, but that didn't really matter. Even if all he had promised her was nothing more than a dream, she'd never managed to get out of his trap; she'd only gotten better at taking his blows and hiding her heartbreak.
Catherine was glad that the love between Francis and Mary was a true one. They wouldn't have to go through what she'd had to go through with Henry. Marriage could be difficult when one loved fully and the other sought the love of another in return. But that's not what was in store for the young couple; they'd have a long and happy marriage.
A hand came to rest on her shoulder, immediately taking her out of her thoughts. She turned around slowly, ready to attack whomever had dared to touch their Queen. But she dropped all of her weapons when she realized it had been her son, now standing in front of her, looking back at her. "Mother," he said, a smile playing in his lips, "it's time for me and Mary to leave."
Catherine nodded knowingly. It was obvious he was excited. She couldn't blame him for that. "Good," she said with a smile that matched his, reaching to caress his cheek. Her little boy had grown into a man. "Be gentle. Listen to her," she whispered.
"I will." Francis took a step towards his mother and kissed her forehead. "She's told me that we owe all of this to you; that you opened her eyes. Thank you."
She smiled and shook her head slightly, dismissing his words. What she'd done, she'd done for him and the rest of her children. All she always did, she did for them. "You'll be a good husband." Catherine stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "The best husband any woman could ever dream of."
Francis smiled. "Well, I'll sure do my best." He looked into his mother's eyes and stayed silent for a moment. Yes, there was happiness in them, but there was also melancholy and sorrow, hidden to all but the few who knew how to read the Queen. He had learnt how to do that long ago, when he was still a child, when she used to lower her guard around him and his siblings. She didn't wear her mask around them back then. "You're safe now, mother," he said, resting a hand on her arm, squeezing it. "I'll do whatever's in my hand to ensure it stays this way." There was another short pause. "I'm not like father."
"I know. I do." Catherine let out a small laugh. "I know you're not. Sometimes, you're nothing like him."
Oh, but he was. He was like the Henry she had fallen in love with, the one she knew in their first years, before she'd learnt about his mistresses and he stopped having the decency to hide them from her. He was like that Henry who used to care about her and worry about her. He used to seek her company and have long conversations with her. He used to make her laugh with the smallest anecdote. That was the Henry she missed. Sometimes, she still saw him in her husband, hidden under many layers of haughtiness. He was still there, somewhere. He still made his appearance from time to time. Each time he did, it sent daggers to her heart.
She shook her head and cleared her throat. "Come on; don't let your old mother keep you from your wife's bed. She must be waiting for you already, wondering if you've changed your mind." He was about to protest, but then she gave him a small push towards the door, a smile on her lips. "Don't make her wait."
She had left the banquet as soon as her son did, rushing through the palace to her rooms. Once there, she'd instantly dismissed everyone. She was not in the mood to be around anyone. She could easily ready herself for bed.
As soon as she entered her bedchamber and her doors were closed, she got rid of her dress and oppressing corset with skilful hands. Just as easily, she got into her nightgown. Calmly, she sat in her vanity and stared at her own reflection as she stripped herself of her crown and jewels. Then, she slowly let down her hair and cleaned her face of all makeup.
Once she was done, Catherine continued staring into her reflection, confused. It was as if the woman looking back at her wasn't herself. Yes, years had passed; she was no longer the Catherine who'd first arrived to France. The reflection showed her an older woman, plumper than she used to be, with lines on her face and a woman's body, no longer a girl's. But that wasn't what Catherine didn't recognize in the mirror; it was the reflection's infinite sadness. Under all those layers she put on every day to keep going on and attend her duty, that woman was broken; there was an emptiness inside her that she didn't know how to fill.
Not so long ago she'd told Marie de Guise that she had been defeated. She had been right, even if in the end her life had been spared. She'd been defeated, and she hadn't realized to what extent until that woman stared into her eyes from the cold surface of the mirror.
She was tired of having to always put up her facade to keep her guard from falling. It didn't matter if she broke down, she was alone; nobody would be able to see or hear her. It would be a secret between her and the sad woman in the mirror.
The weight of everything that had been going on, of everything she'd gone through, came to crush her. Tears burned in her eyes. A lone sob left her throat, catching her by surprise, unleashing her tears and making them start falling down her cheeks. And after that sob came another and another, and then she wasn't able to hold them anymore. She buried her face in her hands and wept. It had been a long while since she had last allowed herself such a moment of weakness. It had been too long.
She didn't try to stop the tears. She needed to break down and let it all out; she had been needing it for a while, especially after these last months. It felt good; it proved that she was not the black-hearted woman some believed her to be, that she still had a heart that broke and ached and made her cry. She wasn't as emotionless and heartless as even she had started to believe.
A sound startled her, bringing her back to reality, as if she'd been slapped. Someone was coming to her door, their footsteps quick and determined. They were approaching too quick for her to have the time to make herself look decent. Alarmed, she grabbed her dressing gown and put it on, drying her tears in its sleeves with haste. Shespared herself a quick glance in the mirror; her hair was slightly tousled, her eyes already red and swollen, glistening with tears. She hoped that the light of the candles somehow disguised that. If she was being disrupted at that hour for some stupidity, she swore to herself she'd find a way to punish the fool.
Just as she started to mentally curse her guards for letting someone in, the doors opened with a loud thud, and in came her husband. Her heart stopped for a second.
Henry.
He walked into her room, still fully dressed, looking around curiously. "I'm glad to see that you're not in your bed yet." The doors closed after him, just as loudly.
Catherine sighed and looked at him through his reflection in her mirror, drawing her dressing gown closer to her body. Who else could have it been? Only Henry would dare to get into her rooms at that time of the night without even giving her an explanation. "Don't get your hopes up, husband. I was about to." Her voice came out way more sore and hoarse than she'd have wanted to. She was tired and emotionally exhausted. The last think she needed right then was Henry playing games with her. "What do you want?" She hoped that, whatever it was, it could wait until the following morning.
"Nothing." Her husband had a goofy grin perched in his lips. He seemed to enjoy whatever it was he thought was happening in there. "Do I need a reason to visit my wife now?"
Their eyes met in the mirror. Catherine felt a thrill run down her spine. "Why are you here, Henry? What is it that can't wait until the morning?" The true question, the one she didn't dare to ask, was what he wanted from her, coming to her chambers at that time of the night. He didn't seem to have an answer for her. She cleared her throat and turned her head to see him with her own eyes instead of through the mirror for the first time since he entered the room. "So this is but a courtesy visit? I'm not buying it." Their usual banter was the best protection she knew. The two of them were used to it. It was the best way to avoid starting to think of things she shouldn't think about whenever he was around. "You should start thinking of better excuses. Maybe your advisors could help you with that. They aren't much better at that than you, but unlike you, they are well used to giving excuses. "
He stroked his short beard and grinned. "I was..." He stopped, took a deep breath, attempted to take a step towards her, but eventually returned to his original position. "I don't know what to tell you." He paused and finally closed the distance between them by taking a step towards her. "I just wanted to see you."
Henry's words shook Catherine to her core. She felt a pang in her heart, as her eyes met Henry's again. There was innocence and truthfulness in them. No. She shut her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. No. She was in no condition to do that with him at that moment.
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortably. "Well, I guess now I'm here I should make the most of this visit and congratulate you." He made a pause and grinned. "In the end, all of your execution preparations turned out handy for the wedding. You did a good job. It all was perfect; the flowers, the wine, the food, the music... I can only begin to imagine how majestic it would've been."
She couldn't believe her ears. Her nostrils flared in anger. He'd gone too far. "How dare you?" she snapped, violently rising from her chair. She should have known better; she should have thrown him out of her rooms as soon as he got in. She had thought she could do it, that she could go on with her life and pretend that the last weeks hadn't really happened, but she wasn't sure anymore. She turned her back to him as hot tears of rage and frustration started flowing from her eyes. It was too soon. Too much had happened in too little time. Her already fragile heart hadn't had the time to recover from all the blows it had endured.
She didn't want him to see her like that. He wouldn't understand the tears in her eyes; he never had. He had never quite figured her out; he'd never really tried to. He'd quickly gotten used to her mask of indifference, and he'd forgotten even faster that, indeed, she was vulnerable. He'd forgotten that she was a woman, like any other. She wasn't sculpted in stone; she was human. Sometimes she feared that he had even forgotten that she had a heart and was capable of having feelings. Sometimes, she even wondered if he knew her at all, if he ever did.
Henry approached her until he was able to see her in the mirror. He already knew she was crying; her slight shaking gave her away. However, the actual sight of her tears unsettled him. The last time she'd actually seen them, they had just lost their youngest daughter, Victoria. Their girl had been weak and the doctors had told them she wouldn't make it, but Catherine wouldn't give up hope; she'd prayed for a miracle. Despite her pleas, their daughter hadn't made it through her sixth week. Catherine's tears had moved him back then. Now, they confused him.
Should he try to console her or should he just leave and let her be? He didn't know what to do, but he was uncomfortable. He felt the rush to leave the room, but something kept him there. He couldn't just leave his wife like that.
So, he closed the distance between them and hesitantly rested a hand on her shoulder. Catherine froze for an instant, and immediately turned around and slapped his hand away. "Don't," she hissed, her eyes rising to meet his, burning him.
Henry tried to reach for her once more, but he stopped himself beforen even touching her. Her eyes were full of tears and rage. He'd never seen her like that before. Dealing with Catherine in such a state would be like dealing with a wounded animal; despite being vulnerable she'd be more dangerous than ever. He took a deep breath, trying to make his voice softer and kinder. "What is it, Catherine? What is it that's wrong?"
A cackle escaped her throat. Unbelievable, he really was that blind, or maybe he was simply stupid. "Where do you want me to start, dear husband?" He didn't react; he just looked at her puzzled. "I'm on borrowed time. If it were for you, I would be dead right now." Her voice was low and controlled, but her eyes pierced him and made his skin crawl. "Is that answer good enough for you?" He didn't answer her once again. "Dead, Henry. And for what? Did you even think about the consequences? And our children? Had you thought what you would tell them when they asked you why you did it?" Tears were freely rolling down her cheeks. "No. You hadn't, had you?"
He took a step back. "Catherine..."
"No," she cut him off. "Now, you come here as if nothing happened. But it did." He had unleashed her tongue; there was no way she'd stop until she got it all out. "Suddenly, you don't seem to mind anymore the fact that I am, as you put it less than two days ago, a 'treasonous adulterer'." She stopped and looked away from him. Her anger was gone. She was simply exhausted. "You would've had my head, and you expect me to forget it all and be thankful because you decided to spare my life at the last minute." She looked at him again. "You would've had my head because of my betrayal, when you've been publicly exposing your for years, for all of the Court and France to see. Despite me being your wife, I've had to see your mistresses being paraded around, being given honours that should've been mine, being treated better by you than I was. And I've had to endure it in silence." She fell into her vanity's chair. "I've been humiliated so many times I've grown used to it. Isn't that a miserable way to live?" She was tired and broken, but it felt good to finally share it with someone, even if it was Henry. She took a deep breath and dried the wet tracks her tears had left in her cheeks. Then, she looked up to meet his eyes and smiled faintly. "I'm tired of this, Henry."
He looked at her, clueless. He knew she was right, and that made him feel guilty. He hadn't treated her the way she deserved to be treated. He hadn't been a good husband to her, nor a good father for their children. He had always been ruled by Diane, while he left Catherine to take care of them. He loved all of them dearly, but he'd always had things in his hands that seemed more important than spending time with them. Catherine, on the other hand, had made them her priority; there was nothing she wouldn't do for them. Only after listening to her he realized that he'd nearly robbed their children of the person who loved and cared about them the most. It hadn't even crossed his mind before.
It pained him to see his Catherine suddenly so small and vulnerable. She was usually stronger than him. She was stronger than all the other women. She was probably one of the strongest people he had ever crossed paths with. Seeing her crushed like that made him feel disgusted with himself. How could he have done that to her? And still, in her eyes he still saw love. Despite everything, his wife loved him, and that made his heart ache. He'd never been the man she deserved.
Henry walked the distance that separated them and hesitantly raised his hand to rest it on her cheek, unsure if she'd allow him to. She gave him a small smile and welcomed the gentle touch of his rough fingers. "Catherine," he had always loved the sound of her name in his tongue, "I'm sorry."
Her mouth opened in surprise. She didn't recall him ever apologising before. "What?" she asked softly. Maybe she'd heard him wrong. "Was it an apology, what just came out of your mouth?"
"Yes." He wanted to ask her to forgive him, but he knew it wouldn't be fair. He wanted to make promises, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep them. "I am sorry." He got onto his knees and took her hands from where they were resting in her lap. They were really small, compared to his. All of her was small, compared to him. And yet, she was braver and stronger than him in so many ways. "I really am." He took her hands into his and kissed them.
He didn't know what else to tell her, but he knew he had to do right to her. He wanted to make her happy again. He wanted to be the man Catherine deserved.