There was this urge in Mary that demanded for her to yell for help. A part of her wanted to scream for guards to come rushing to her aid, the logical part of her demanded her feet to start moving from this man who has just told her to end her marriage with Francis, the love of her life and the very essence of her existance.
How can he, a man who says he does not want to hurt her, argue against a love as compassionate and rare like their's? How can she trust him as he's proved nothing to be worth of her trust? How can she gamble just like that?
But Mary did little to distance herself from Darnley, despite the little voice inside of her telling her to get away. "I know that this is a lot to take in—hell, I know that you're doubting my words," Mary narrowed her eyes into thin slits. He was right, she was doubting his word and rightfully so, if she may add. To tear Scotland apart from an alliance that has protected her since she was a child from the English who wanted her throne. "And I understand that but know that I can prove it to you that ending your marriage with Francis will save both Scotland and France," and suddenly, Mary's every resolve vanished into the air. It didn't made sense, it did not add up in her mind because it was all so different. Darnley has made it so clear that his intentions are to protect Scotland alone but now he's included France into the mix?
Mary's mind was all in shambles. "France. . .what's happening with France?" it was not supposed to said out loud, but Mary found herself whispering to Darnley in utter confusion. With Scotland, it made sense, but with France it was all so vague and blurry an image to see. It was like a cloud to the entire sky or a grain of sand to an entire beach! It revealed to little and too much at the same time.
"I hate to admit this, but France is crucial to Scotland's survival, at first as an ally but because the tides have turned, you must find yourself able to accomodate change," Mary crossed her arms. Why should she accomodate such a drastic and risky move such as destroying an alliance that was carefully negotiated when she was a child?
Why should she take on Darnley's word?
"France was seen as a pivotal character in the alliance with England, angering Spain and Rome because they see it as tolerance for Protestantism and eventual adoption of the faith," pacing around, he took out a pamphlet. "This was published some months ago and the people are complaining about the change brought about the alliance in France," taking the paper into her hands, Mary's brows furrowed when she caught the words of Spanish Peacekeepers and the Pope's elite Swiss guards. What were they doing in France instead of Scotland?
"Look at the date," Mary squinted her eyes at the printed date at the bottom of the paper, "only a few weeks after the alliance was made known to the public, the King of Spain and the Pope sent these surveyers to check in with the people to see if they accepted Protestantism despite their alibi of being merchants," there was a sketch of an insignia. Mary swore under her breath, she's seen this before, "they bear the arms of the Don Carlos, the Prince of Spain," and then she remembered, the wedding of King Philip to Elisabeth. Don Carlos was there and he had displayed his own arms during the event.
"By God, what have they done?" Mary muttered in horror when the sketches of burning houses were accompanied by the pictures of Spanish soldiers and the stories that tell tales of the brutality and madness. "This is absurd! King Philip is a good friend of Francis, an ally of France, and the husband of Elisabeth. . .why would he do this?" she held the pamphlet back to Darnley, wishing yet utterly unable to unsee the horrors the pages brought to her, the enlightenment that terrified her.
"Because he's the so-called Defender of the Faith, he finds it fit to see that people, or heretics as he calls them, are tied to a stake and burned along with everything they own!" Darnley inserted the pamphlet back into his vest when something caught Mary's eyes.
"Give me that!" with lightning speed, the paper was back into her hands and she examined the name of the author of the pamphlet. Mary held up the pamphlet, he finger pointing to a fine print. "This was written by a Catholic noble!" although from a minor cadet branch of Guise, Mary knew well that the man was no Protestant. "Why would he write this if he's a Catholic? Surely, the Spaniards wouldn't lift a finger to harm a Catholic, let alone a French nobleman," expecting something else, Darnley sighed and shook his head.
"They're not after the Protestants, Mary, they are after the French—according to my network of spies, Philip considers this his personal mission; religion will not save anyone—and while they haven't got an excuse good enough to disguise as a reason to start a war, this is what they're doing. Once, not if, they target bigger nobles with far bigger influences and better strongholds, King Francis will have no choice but to attack and that will lead into—" Darnley didn't need to finish for Mary to catch unto his words, the meaning implied behind his desperate explanations.
Taking a step back, Mary couldn't help but gasp even though her finger had covered her lips. "My God, he's provoking Francis! Once we retaliate, a war will be inevitable," the horrors came rushing to Mary's mind. "The army is too spread out, we have little active troops that aren't stationed by the borders and the men we do have the ability to deploy now are," looking out the window to see the men, som grandfathers and some just teenagers, "aged and inexperienced!" taking her hands into his, Darnley lead Mary towards the door.
Taking a step forward, Darnley took Mary's hand in an attempt to convince her. "Scotland's breaking away from the Auld Alliance will be crucial for your country's survival and for France's protection—if Francis couldn't afford to protect his country right now, how can he help your country when France is in utter chaos?" and then everything went silent.
Darnley swore under his breathe and peered outside the window. They had been together for far too long. "We can't talk right now, but I can show you more—try to convince your husband to let you outside the castle, tell him you're going to visit the old nunnery you were raised at, and you will see for yourself the destruction of France," dipping his head low, Darnley slipped through the door leaving Mary conflicted—she promised him that she would never lie or keep secrets as he swore to her.
Is she so willing to risk her life and marriage? Will she have to break her promises again? Will this be a disaster like Condé?
So help me, God, Mary whispered silently as she found herself in front of the doors to Francis' study, being announced by her husband's page.
Francis, I am so sorry.