So finally, it´s here! Francis´ POV! Yay! Chapter Eleven is hereby yours to read and review on :D
Chapter Eleven
He was restless as he turned in his bed, trying to find some peace. Why did it have to be so hard for him to sleep? It had been like this for days. In truth, it had been this way since Mary had left a week earlier. He had felt, just for a moment, what it was like to wake up with her in his arms, for her to be truly his, and it had been ripped from his grip just as a quick as it had come to him in the first place.
He knew that he was being childish, acting like a silly boy with a broken heart. He had to pull himself together. Mary had obviously made her choice, and while he didn´t want to believe that she had wanted to leave him, all evidence showed differently. She had left on her own will. He needed to move on with his life, get over her, if he was to have any hope of being a good king someday.
His head was pounding and the sun that broke through the curtains certainly wasn´t making his hangover any better. He wasn´t about to admit it to anyone, but the amount of wine that he would drink at the evening feast had increased by many glasses over the last week. He woke up each day, regretting that he drank so much the previous night, but as the day wore on, he was reminded of the absence of Mary´s presence everywhere he looked, and drinking was the only way to keep him from insanity.
Just as he was about to get up from the bed to get dressed, he heard his page knock on the door. "Enter," he commanded, surprised at how rough his voice was. He cleared his throat as the page entered, seemingly nervous.
"A letter has arrived for you, your grace," the boy stuttered as he held out a letter.
Francis shrugged, grabbed the letter from the boy´s hand and threw it onto his bed without giving it a second glance. It was most likely just another lord, offering his daughter to him as it had been public knowledge by now that the engagement between him and Mary was broken and he was again eligible for marriage.
He dismissed the page and finished dressing before going to the throne room to meet with his father. He was by no means looking forward to the meetings that he had with his father after Mary left. King Henry was furious. Not only had Mary broken an alliance, but she had also left the French Court without protection. No matter how little Henry cared for her at the moment, she was, as long as she was in France, his responsibility and he had Mary´s family pressuring him to find her and return her to safety. For a week now, he had had his guards searching through every nearby town to look for her. For a week now, they had come back to court daily with the same news: Mary was nowhere to be found.
As Francis entered the throne room, he was met with the same frown from his father that he had by now grown used to. "Francis, there you are."
"Any news?" Francis asked. Every day he told himself not to be hopeful and every day he failed. He was growing accustomed to the disappointment and the fear in the pit of his stomach that came with the shake of his father´s head in response to his question. Today was no different.
"How far can that silly little girl have gotten on her own?" The king was frustrated. He was frustrated that he had Mary´s family pressuring him. He was frustrated that his useless guards never found her. He was frustrated that Mary had broken the alliance. Most of all, he was frustrated the he had lost Scotland and with it, the claim to England. He felt powerless, and he swore to himself, that no one would ever get away with making him feel that way – Queen or not. If he ever saw Mary again, he would not only force her to lay claim to England and marry his son, but he would make sure that her life would not be an easy one at the French Court.
"She wasn´t on her own," Francis muttered. His voice was filled with betrayal. His own brother had been the one to take Mary from him. His own brother, who had been his best friend growing up, was the one to steal her away.
"No, she wasn´t, was she?" Francis didn´t like the way his father said those words. There was no doubt that Sebastian had lost the role as the King´s favorite son. He almost felt sorry for his brother. Almost.
When he returned to his rooms that night, following hours of meetings with his father and the council, he was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under those covers and be dead to the world for a few hours. He wanted to escape from everything that he was feeling. He wanted to escape from the mixed feelings that he could never sort out. He was hurt and betrayed that Mary would leave him. As much as he wanted to deny it, to say that she meant little to nothing to him now, he felt scared, no terrified, to know that Mary was out there and no one knew where she was.
He shook off the thoughts and shed his clothes, landing in a pile on the floor, and crawled into bed. That was when he noticed the letter that he had received that morning. A part of him wanted to throw it away and forget all about it, but he knew that he had to read it – even if it was only a marriage proposal from some rich lord who wanted to rise in status and power.
He grabbed it, but before he could open it, his eyes landed on the seal and suddenly he knew why the page had been so nervous. The seal was obviously the royal seal of Scotland, the one that he could easily recognize as Mary´s.
His heart was beating faster in his chest instantly. He willed for himself to calm down, but no matter what, nothing helped. With shaking hands, he ripped the letter open to find a parchment with his brother´s writing on it.
With hurried steps and his heart painfully beating against his ribcage, he headed for his father´s rooms. For once, he could be sure that he would be there, no longer having a mistress in Diane and Kenna. Francis didn´t know what had happened and he couldn´t find it in him to care. He didn´t bother to knock and ignored the page´s protests as he barged into the room, finding his father by the bed, only wearing his night clothes.
"Lamballe, she´s in Lamballe," Francis said, his voice sounding breathless as he waved the letter at his father.