My OC (Cecily) was born in 1541


March 1561

"It can't go on like this!" Cecily Howard sighed in her lover's arms, "It's been almost a year, Bash. We can't go on like this! We can't!" She flapped a letter in the Duke's face, "Lady Guise says the Princess Marie is getting more and more impossible. It's the third letter I've had like that this month. She needs her father, Bash. Marie needs her father and France needs it's King!"

"I know. I know. But what do you want me to do about it?" Bash sighed, "Francis is the King, Cecily. If he wants to stay in seclusion, then there's nothing anyone can do."

"You could try, Bash. You're his brother."

"What makes you think I could do a better job than you could?"

"I'm a woman he's only exchanged pleasantries with. I was born in England, even if I have French roots. And I am Dowager Queen. Political reasons, but reasons nonetheless. He won't speak to me the way he would to another man. Particularly not since Mary and I were rivals for the simple fact of our marriages. Please, Bash." Removing herself from his arms so she was able to straddle his hips, she stroked his hair.

"There's no one who knows how to talk to Francis better than you. And think of our children. Think of your own son. Would you want to let him live with the pain of not knowing his father?"

"No! Of course not!" Bash exclaimed, his heart clenching at the thought of no longer being a part of his son's life. Cecily stroked his dark locks around her fingers.

"I thought not. So don't let Marie go through it either. Go and talk Francis out of his seclusion. Please."

"Oh, very well. I'll try. I'll try. But, first, I believe we were in the middle of something, weren't we?" He cheekily asked, eliciting a giggle from the Dowager Queen who promptly pressed a passionate kiss to his lips.


Two hours later

Extricating himself from Cecily's hold, he sighed, kissed her swiftly, slipped from the room and made his way to King Francis's apartments.

The young page, Donald Parrish was just exiting as he reached them. Bash stopped the boy with a quiet hand on his shoulder.

"How is he, Donald?"

"No better, no worse, My Lord of the Hunt," Donald murmured. Sighing, Bash nodded and stepped past him into the darkened room, trying not to reel back at the musty smell that permeated the air.

"Francis? Your Majesty?"

"I said I didn't want to be disturbed, Bash." Francis's voice was heavy. Bash hesitated, but knew he had to press forward. He owed it to the royal family.

"I know, Francis. I know."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I'm your friend. Because I don't like seeing you hurt. Because I want to help you." Bash stepped forward, laying a daring hand on his brother's shoulder. To his relief, Francis didn't pull away. Instead he simply sighed bitterly.

"You have, Bash. More than you know."

A silence stretched between the two men for a moment. Suddenly, Francis burst out, "Is there a curse on the Valois, Bash, because we won our throne through politics and not through direct inheritance? Are we doomed to lose our Queens forever?"

"No, Francis no! You mustn't think that! You mustn't!"

"Almost every Valois king has lost a Queen to childbirth. My grandfather lost his Claude. My father was the exception, and yet, still he almost my mother with the twins. I lost Mary. And my sons. There must be…"

"It was bad luck, Francis, that's all. Sheer bad luck. Look, I know how you feel. I know it feels like the end of the world; like she's taken your youth with her; like you'll never be happy again. But it'll pass. Trust me, it'll pass."

"How do you…? That's it exactly. How do you know?"

At Francis's words, Bash sighed with relief, releasing a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. He couldn't let Francis consider the fact that he might have been cursed. He couldn't. Francis was so superstitious. Who knew where he might let the thought lead him?

He said nothing of his thoughts to Francis, of course. All he said was, "I lost Delphine, remember? I lost my Delphine just like you lost the Queen. I felt like you, Francis. I thought I'd never be happy again. But things changed. I stopped grieving like a husband and let myself grieve like the young man I knew I still was. And then I met Kenna. Your wife's friend. I met her and I loved her. She made me happy again, Francis. She made me happy again and now we're married and have our beautiful children. So you're not cursed, Francis. You're not. You'll have a boy to be your Prince yet. You'll have him with a woman you love, I promise. Just because you lost Mary doesn't mean you can't have a boy with a woman you love. You just have to give it time."

"What changed you, Bash? What changed things for you?" Francis's voice was hollow. Bash took a deep breath. He knew he was taking a gamble with his next words, knew Kenna and Cecily both would hate him for this whatever the result, but he had no choice. He'd baited the hook and now he had to reel it in.

"I grieved like a man. I let myself stop being a husband and a father and just became a man. That's what you need to do, Francis. Stop being a King. Stop being Mary's husband. Stop being a father. Just be Francis. Just Francis."

"How? After everything that's happened, Bash, how?"

"Would you like me to show you?"