AN: Thank you so much for the encouraging reviews! I'm so happy people like this one, because I had so much fun writing it! It will have 8 chapters, not one of my longer stories, and will be M rated for chapter 6 - a heads-up in case you don't like reading M material. I'll change the story rating when it comes to that chapter. I hope you continue to enjoy it, and please keep the reviews coming - I love love love receiving them!

Chapter Four

Henry kept to his chambers for the rest of the day, feigning a headache, when the truth was that he was just too terrified to go out and face the world around him. He felt as though he was spinning out of control with nothing familiar to hold on to, and he couldn't make it stop. A short nap didn't help, but Henry hoped that a proper sleep overnight would have the effect of resetting the strange events that had taken place since he woke from his last long sleep. Unfortunately for Henry, a somewhat restless night's sleep did not make any difference to the maddening situation he was still faced with upon rising the next morning. He still woke to his things decorating his wife's chambers, and knew with a sinking heart that he was still trapped in this world – Catherine ruling France in his place, even waking in his place in her no-doubt lavishly decorated version of his own private chambers. He prickled with indignation at the thought, sweeping his coverlet aside roughly, and dressing as quickly as he could before his servants could come and slow him down by aiding him. He would go and see for himself. It was still early, but he did not care.

The castle was bustling with servants at this time of the morning, all hurrying back and forth from bedchambers and kitchens, making sure everything was in place for nobles and royals alike to be able to rise and make a start to their day. As he turned the familiar corner to his own chambers, he saw that it was guarded as usual, though with Catherine's guards, not his own. Approaching the doors, he was surprised to see them opening, thinking that perhaps Catherine was on her way out already, but a servant backed out instead, and closed the doors behind him. Henry stopped a few feet away, observing the man. He took an instant dislike to him. The way he hesitated, still half-turned to the door, and the jaunty little smirk on his lips as he tugged his shirt to straighten it – something about him just raised his hackles. He didn't want that servant boy near his wife.

The young man turned fully now, and startled slightly at the unexpected sight of the King standing in front of him, glaring down from his full height. He recovered himself quickly and nodded his head slightly, acknowledging his presence.

"Your Majesty," he murmured respectfully, though his body language seemed almost to defy his words. His eyes lifted again, and he looked Henry straight in the eye, unusually bold and confident for a low-born, especially one so young.

"Your name?" Henry barked out.

"Christophe," the man's lips quirked again into that infuriating smirk. "I'm a Valet des Chambres. I tend the castle's fires."

"You were here lighting the Queen's fire?"

The smile on Christophe's face broadened, and his eyes shone darkly with something that Henry didn't quite recognise. He was almost too bold, reckless in his attitude towards his King as he stood there.

"Yes, your Majesty," was all he said in response, a hint of smugness to his tone. His dark eyes seemed to Henry as though they held a challenge as he stood confidently before him and waited for him to speak. Henry had never seen this young man before, but he most certainly would see to it that he was sent somewhere else to work. This very day if he could manage it.

"What are you just standing there for!" hesnapped. "Get on with your work!"

He took a moment to breathe his irritation away, as Christophe sauntered off down the corridor, before turning again to the doors to his chambers.

"Father!"

Henry turned, caught off guard by the sound of his son's voice. Francis strode towards him, smiling cheerfully.

"You're up early this morning! What are your plans for the day?" Francis paused at his side, nodding towards the closed doors. "I shouldn't think mother is up yet. You know how she likes her rest before an important day." He clapped Henry on the shoulder in a friendly manner. Henry almost flinched at his son's touch. He wasn't used to such a casual and amiable relationship with his son and heir – well, his son and… whatever he now was. Confusion marred his senses, and he tried not to let it show, as a myriad of thoughts and questions passed through his mind in a matter of seconds. Was he especially close to Francis here? The way he had greeted him made him think so. It was similar to the way it felt when Bash –

His breath caught in his chest. If there was no Diane, could it be that there was no Bash? That his eldest son whose company he enjoyed so much simply didn't exist? He pushed the thought quickly from his mind, pulling himself back to the moment. What had Francis just said?

"Important day?" he managed, furrowing his brow in an attempt to hide his anguish with interest.

"Yes, she - " Francis paused. "Are you alright?"

Henry waved his hand dismissively, "Oh, bit of a headache, that's all. I probably should have slept a little longer, like your mother." He managed a light chuckle, and Francis seemed to accept his answer, continuing with his explanation.

"She's meeting the foreign ambassadors today – the summit, you remember? Are you attending this time?"

"I – I…. She – she hasn't mentioned…." Henry stammered, his words fading off. He felt suddenly redundant at his own Court. It was rather a shock to his system, and he felt unexpectedly deflated and unconfident.

"I'm sure she will brief you again before the event," said Francis comfortably. "Listen, I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to thank you, for what you said on the wedding day."

"Hmmm?" Henry was completely confused. What had he said? And on whose wedding day?!

"You know," Francis lowered his voice a little, tugging Henry aside by his elbow, so that the two men stood by the alcoved window at the side of the corridor, away from the guards' listening ears. "The advice you gave me? Our man-to-man talk. It was…. very helpful."

"H-how so?"

"I appreciate that it can't have been easy for you, given the way things have turned out with you and mother… But, knowing the mistakes you've made, and the wisdom that comes from that – what you would have done differently if you'd known… I'm thankful that you felt able to share that with me, so that I can meet Mary's needs and, you know…" he gestured as though searching for the right words, "… serve her well, as her consort. I hope ours will be a happy marriage, and that I'll be able to provide her with an heir sooner than later. It will be so good for Scotland."

Before Henry could move to stop his own eyeballs falling out onto the stone floor, his son pulled him into a sudden close hug. "I will miss you, Father."

Henry gave Francis a few awkward pats on the back as they embraced, trying to relax his muscles so that he didn't alarm his son with his stiffness, which he realised could be interpreted as indifference. He needed to maintain whatever the norm was in this strange version of reality, so as not to arouse suspicion. Every explanation that came out of anyone's mouth here was just astonishingly odd, and he could not get used to it. Watching his son continue down the corridor with a cheerful wave, he pushed down rising panic and tried to remain calm. He needed to talk to Catherine, without her suspecting that anything was wrong.

He turned back to the doors decisively, and knocked. It seemed like knocking would be a good idea. Apparently, Catherine was awake after all, for she called out, "Enter!" and he stepped into the chambers that he knew as his own, closing the door behind him.

The Queen's chambers were magnificent! Henry gazed around him at the sumptuous embroidered textiles, the gold themed colours with dark red accents thrown in for that regal touch, the beautiful art adorning the walls, even a couple of her favourite marble statues in the corners of the room. His favourite tapestry remained on the wall, but then, that didn't surprise him. Catherine had always admired it and wanted it as her own. The only structural change to the room as he knew it was the addition of a luxurious window seat across the breadth of the enormous windows, lavishly framed with heavy drapes of deep red velvet, and padded with sumptuous gold cushions. He imagined that Catherine spent much of her free time reading in that window seat, and he smiled at the warmth that the thought gave him. It suited her well.

However, her majestic four-poster bed was a mess – the sheets rumpled, and even pulled away from the top corner on one side, and pillows scattered about. One of them had fallen to the floor beside the bed, along with the coverlet. Catherine herself was busily looking through her wardrobe of clothing on the other side of the room. She wore a silk nightgown and a floor length wine-coloured robe. Her hair was, well, gorgeous. Loose over her shoulders and curling down her back in a tousled disarray, messier than Henry remembered it, but attractive all the same. She was flushed, even down to her chest and beyond under the lace-edged neckline of her nightgown, and had a brightness to her eyes that seemed familiar to Henry. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Surely she hadn't been… His mind jerked back to the smug servant boy leaving her chambers not too long ago, and his eyes flicked quickly to the fireplace.

Whatever else the young man had been doing here, he had indeed tended to the fire, which was well stocked with logs, crackling and burning merrily.

"What do you need, Henry?"

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked over at her, his mind completely blank as to what he had originally wanted to see her about. He was overcome with an urge to demand to know what she had been up to with that foolish boy, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. Suddenly the possibility crushed him, and he was afraid to have it voiced, because it would make it more real. He realised that it would hurt him to hear her tell him that yes, she had just allowed that young thing into her bed to pleasure her; that he had not only lit the chamber fires, but hers as well, accounting for the flush over half her body. His eye fell again on the dishevelled bed – evidence of no small amount of passion – and his fists clenched miserably, as he fought to keep her from seeing how enraged he was that another man would DARE to touch her, when she belonged to him and him alone. He would not acknowledge it. It would suggest that he, Henry, her husband and the King of France, was not… enough. That she would turn to a young nobody – and goodness knows who else – to meet her sexual needs instead of him. Why would she not turn to him? The question hung painfully in his mind, needing an answer, but he was afraid to find out. It was a sobering and surprisingly unbearable thought that he pushed down with every ounce of his strength, maintaining a forcibly calm exterior as he acknowledged Catherine's question.

"Where is Diane?"

"Diane who?" She barely looked up from the rack of dresses.

"Diane de Poitiers. Don't you know her?"

Catherine paused, her brow furrowed, looking off into the distance for a moment as she tried to place the name, before turning to Henry. "Do you mean the Diane who was lady-in-waiting to your mother years ago?" She seemed genuinely mystified at his question.

"I – Yes, that's her." Henry's palms began to sweat, and he wiped them subtly on the hips of his embroidered doublet.

Catherine's frown vanished, and she shrugged, her eyebrows raised. "I've no idea where she is after all these years. Why?" She turned back to the dresses, her interest waning.

"No reason," Henry deflected. "She just… came to mind, that's all."

"Oh." His wife held a beautiful pearl-encrusted gown to herself, turning to face Henry with her eyebrows raised again, in question. "For the summit. What do you think?"

Finally, he was being asked his opinion over a decision to be made! He nodded his approval. "Very fitting."

Catherine smiled with satisfaction, turning to lay the gown on her rumpled bed. "You always did have an eye for these things," she said softly, and Henry wondered if he could discern a hint of wistful nostalgia in her tone.