The orchestral fanfare blares the first notes of The GooGoo Dolls' Come to Me as Francis and I enter the reception hall, showered in feathers and roses and greeted with applause. My husband leads me out to the center of the dance floor and I twirl into his arms; he rocks me slowly, his lips nipping at my neck teasingly.
"I can't wait until tonight, wife," Francis whispers tantalizingly. His hand slides around my waist and I tilt my head towards him. I can feel the hardness of his cock against me as I press my body against his. "I can't wait to make you mine." My husband spins me out of his arms and when I return to him, I immediately lock my arms around his neck.
"I'm already yours, husband," I say. I rest my head on his shoulder as we sway to the music, our fingers interweaved with one another. I am Francis's wife now. We're married; holy shit.
"Come to me my sweetest friend," he sings softly into my ear. "Can you feel my heart again? I'll take you back where you belong and this will be our favorite song." Francis's voice is like silk as it caresses me. "Come to me with secrets bare; I'll love you more so don't be scared. When we're old and near the end, we'll go home and start again." I meet his eyes and I kiss him deeply. The rest of the world is nonexistent; we are together now—we're married—and nothing else matters.
"I'm glad to see that you're happy, daughter." I jump out of my skin as my husband and I end our dance. I turn around and my heart leaps into my throat; tears of joy sting in my eyes as my mother envelops me in her arms.
"Mother!" I exclaim. "Oh my god, I've missed you so much. What—how…what are you doing here?"
"How could I have missed my own daughter's wedding day?" We pull apart so we can wipe our tears. "I didn't want to tell you I was coming because I wanted to surprise you," she explains. She smiles warmly, holding her hand out for Francis. "I'm Marie de Guise, your official mother-in-law."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," he tells her, shaking her hand. "I've never been happier nor more fortunate to be blessed with such a wife." I plant a kiss on his cheek at his words, and we beam at one another. Francis slides a hand around my waist, kissing my forehead. "I promise that I'll take good care of your daughter, Marie."
"Thank you, Francis," my mother says. She chuckles. "I wonder when I'll be a grandmother."
"Mother!" I gasp.
"I'm just kidding, Mary," she laughs. "I'm sure we don't have anything to worry about." For a moment, I wonder if she'll be staying for the consummation. Oh god. The thought of my mother watching Francis and I consummate our marriage fills me with horror and dread and mortification. I realize that the bedding ceremony has always been a royal tradition, but there are some things I would much rather my mother didn't see. "Francis, may I speak with my daughter alone for a moment?"
"Of course." My husband kisses me before he takes his leave of us. Mother grabs me by the arm and hastily pulls me aside as soon as he is out of sight. What the hell?
"Mother, what are you doing?" I demand. The orchestra bursts into the first notes of Nightwish's Alpenglow, the strings and the violins singing as one voice.
"Mary, there's something you must know," she explains quickly. "It's about Scotland."
"Scotland?" My eyes widen in shock. "What about Scotland? Is everything alright? You've been ruling in my stead for all of my eighteen years!"
"Exactly, Mary. The people have started to undermine my authority; they want their queen to come home," she goes on. "Scotland needs her queen. I've been your regent from the moment you came forth from my womb—but you're a woman grown and a queen."
"Mother, I can't leave France and you know that!" I protest. "I am the future queen of France and my husband is the future king." I meet her stare. "Do not forget that, Mother. You gave me to the French, remember?" My voice is hard and resolute as I speak.
"Your brother is grabbing for the crown even as we speak, Mary," Mother hisses. "I'm doing what I can to stall him, but James is relentless."
"And what are you?" I retort. "You're the queen regent, Mother. Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I have more power than you. Now get the hell out and leave France. When the day comes that I return to Scotland, it is because you have failed…or because you are dead." My mother's eyes are ice cold as she glares at me. Without another word, she storms off. I scan the crowd, looking for Francis. I see him conversing with Bash and Kenna, laughing and talking with them, and I decide to leave them be for the time being. Somewhere along the line, I find Olivia. She scowls at me for a moment before pacing up towards me angrily.
"If you're here to argue about Francis, forget it," I say lightly. "We're married now; he loves me and I love him."
"Give me a fucking break, Mary!" Olivia snaps. "Just yesterday, he told me that he was sending me away to some chateau! This is bullshit! I thought he loved me!" She laughs humorlessly. "You know, I tried to reach out to him after I heard about what happened with Tomas—but he wouldn't have it. I tried taking his mind off the trauma, but I guess you have your claws in him way too deep."
She tried to take advantage of my husband's pain so she could seduce him. Rage and loathing come over me in a rush, my blood boiling. "You. Selfish. Bitch," I growl. "You knew what Francis has been through, but all you can think of is being in his bed again. If you ever truly loved him, you would put his feelings above yours. You never loved Francis, Olivia. I don't presume to know what happened between you two before I returned to court, but I do know that he wants nothing to do with you, as do I. You will never become his mistress. There is nothing here for you, so do yourself a favor and just go to your new estate. In time, Francis will find a suitable husband for you and we will all be happy."
"Francis never loved me the way he loves you, Mary," she says bitterly and shakes her head. "I…excuse me." She shoves right past me just as Francis approaches.
"What was that?" my husband questions me, gathering me into his arms. "Was Olivia pestering you about us?"
"More or less, yeah," I answer. "Don't worry about it, Francis. She won't be bothering us anymore." My husband kisses me gently, tilting my face upwards to meet his lips.
"You are my path my home my star, a beautiful tale within the tale," he sings quietly, "and when the dust needs to move on, I will tuck us in on a bed of snow painting white, silencing the valley we built. Together we'll sleep, devoured by Life." The orchestra plays on and I close my eyes, letting the music carry me where it may. My husband continues to sing to me as the song closes itself.
"We were here, roaming on the endless prairie, writing an endless story, building a Walden of our own…we were here, grieving the saddened faces, conquering the darkest places. Time to rest now and finish the show and become the Music, one with alpenglow…" I hold his face in my hands, passionately kissing him just as the orchestra rings out the final notes of the song, tears streaming down my face. The kiss lasts for several long moments before we finally break apart; the music has stopped completely, which is all we need to know. It is time for the consummation.
My heart is pounding in my chest as the servants help me out of my wedding dress and into my consummation robes. They dab the makeup off my face and pull out my French braid, letting it tumble down my shoulders and my back, before dabbing at my sex. I have chosen to wear nothing underneath my robes, although a part of me suspects that it is required in order to make sure that our marriage is consummated in full.
I am led to the consummation chambers, where the bed is being blessed by the Vatican. Francis is waiting for me, his eyes filled with love and wanting. I wonder how he feels about this custom. I approach him slowly, my hands shaking. I can feel Catherine and Henri's eyes on us; my ladies are visibly uncomfortable, struggling to hide their awkwardness. The Vatican watches us expectantly, and my heart only accelerates.
"Shhh, Mary. Mary," my husband whispers, taking my face in his hands. "It's alright. Don't pay attention to them. It's just you and me, okay?" I nod, breathing deeply. Slowly, Francis presses his lips against mine. I instantly respond to his kiss; my desire for him makes it difficult for me to remember that we are in fact being watched by the king, the queen, my ladies and the Vatican as we fall back upon the bed. Francis is gentle in his lovemaking, almost teasing. I can't help but wonder where he'll take me for our honeymoon. The room is filled with our gasps and sighs of pleasure; Francis thrusts into me repeatedly as he kisses my neck and my cheek. I'm unable to stifle my screams as several orgasms pulse relentlessly throughout me, one right after another.
"May the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit bless this union as Marie de Stuart and Francois de Valois become one body, one heart, and one soul…and may he be cursed who would dare come between them."