Hey guys

Thank you so much for the reviews on the previous chapter - you are awesome!

Here is chapter twenty-one, with Francis as promised :) I hope you enjoy it :D

Chapter Twenty-one:

She wanted to go to sleep, more so than almost anything in that moment. If it was not the constant movements of the child within her that made it impossible for her to sleep, it was the worry over when and if Francis could ever forgive her. She was desperate to lose consciousness, to forget the way that he had looked at her. No words could describe the guilt that she felt, knowing that the hurt and disappointment in his eyes was directed towards her and knowing that she deserved every bit of it.

She had known this day would come. She had known that she would have to face the consequences of the choice she had made several weeks earlier when she decided that keeping the news of his father´s death from Francis was the best thing to do. The reality of his reaction was so much worse than any of the many scenarios that she had imagined.

If only he had actually gotten angry at her for it…

…

She had received words a few days earlier form her uncle that the battle at Calais had finally been won, that they were returning home. Flooded with relief that her lonesome misery without Francis by her side would soon be over, she reread the letter over and over, as if she hoped that the words telling her that Francis was safe and sound would somehow magically appear in front of her eyes if only she stared long enough. When it occurred to her that the letter stated nothing about the wellbeing of her husband, no matter how many times she read it, she put the paper down.

A smile still played on her lips. If Francis was hurt, surely she would have heard by now. Her grin widened and she laughed with tears in her eyes once the reality of the situation set in.

Francis was coming home to her. He was finally coming back.

…

She had shared the news with Catherine with a large smile. Though the older woman smiled back at her, perhaps merely because she could not help but reciprocate the joy that so obviously radiated from the young queen, she strangely did not seem surprised at all. Mary supposed that the Dowager Queen might have already heard the news from one of her countless spies that she seemed to have placed in every corner that Mary looked and was simply humoring her.

It was not until she lied in bed that night that she realized what her husband´s homecoming also meant. He would find out that his father was dead, and had been for weeks, unless, of course, he had already heard it from someone else. She was not even sure which scenario she preferred. Neither of them seemed to have a particularly pleasant outcome for her.

…

Over the next few days following the reception of the letter, Mary spent most of her time pacing the floors of her rooms and stressing over every little thing, be it big or small. She refused to listen when her ladies in waiting would tell her continuously that she should sit down, that she should rest, if not for herself then for the baby. She would comply and either sat down on the couch or on the bed, whichever was the closest to her at the time, but she would neither relax nor stay seated for long before the anxiety got the better of her and she was back on her feet.

It was quite comical to watch if any outsiders were observing her. Thankfully, no one was. She looked far from the strong and beautiful queen that she was as she paced the room, biting her finger nails and running her hand through the mess of dark curls on her head that used to be her shiny, long hair. She denied the need to sit down for long enough for either of her ladies to brush it for her.

At least the child was being still while she was pacing back and forth, rocked to sleep by her movements. However, this too, would only come back to haunt her at night when his continuing kicks against the inside of her womb made it impossible for her to find rest.

She was not eager to admit that she was losing control over her emotions, but she knew that it was true either way. France was in need of her queen for as long as she did not have her king. She needed to pull herself together and stay strong. However, every time she tried, every morning that she woke up, deciding that that would be the day where she would do something about it, she was reminded of him as soon as she felt the kicks of their child. She was reminded that he did not know about their existence; just one more secret that she had kept from him.

It was a cruel cycle that she did not know how to escape.

…

And then, finally and too soon at the same time, he was there; just a few meters in front of her. Standing proud and strong and looking every bit as handsome and healthy as she remembered him.

All too soon his posture faltered as he looked around and she knew instantly what, or rather, who, his eyes were searching or. His father. He should have been standing beside his mother where Mary now stood.

A look of something that Mary could not recognize flashed across his eyes as it dawned on him that it was true, whatever rumor that he had been told of. His father was really dead.

And that was when his icy blue eyes locked on hers. At first they were confused but when they saw the guilt in Mary´s, they changed to something else. Disbelief. Disappointment. Hurt. But never anger and that was the worst part.

Mary´s gaze faltered as she could not bear to see those emotions directed towards her. She felt so small in that moment. She wanted to disappear so that she would never have to face his scrutinizing look ever again. She never wanted to feel that way again and she knew that it was all her fault. She could never blame him for feeling that way because she let him down once again even though she thought she had a good reason to. Francis would never see it that way. He would never understand why she did what she did.

…

He had said no words to her at all before he disappeared into the castle, followed by his mother and several of his advisors. It was certainly not the reunion she had hoped for, but it still was not worse than what she had feared. He could have yelled at her in front of everybody, humiliated her. Though, he never would. He was too noble and too kindhearted and loving to ever even consider doing that to her, no matter what she did to deserve it.

Silent tears were rolling down her flushed cheeks and her eyes were locked on the ground as her two remaining ladies flanked her. They did not try to make any conversation with her as they led her back to her room, for which she was grateful. She would most likely not have offered them an answer if they did anyway.

They helped her into bed and she dismissed them even when Greer offered that they could stay if she needed the company. She was left to her own thoughts, and frankly, that was not a pleasant place to be.

…

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon and the colors of the world outside her window had disappeared, leaving her in complete darkness, alone in her room. The loneliness she felt then, even though she had alone in that bed for several months, was much worse. Knowing that he was there, somewhere in the castle but refused to see her was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

She felt a soft kick then, as if the baby tried to comfort her, showing her that she was never really alone, no matter how she felt. She could not help the small smile through her tears as she gently placed a hand over the place on her stomach where she had felt the child´s movements. She closed her eyes and surrendered herself completely to concentrate only on the kicks of her unborn son or daughter. It calmed her down enough to stop crying though she still whimpered once or twice.

The soft knocks on her door made her open her eyes. She did not speak up, though she was not really sure why. She held her breath as she waited, for what, she was not sure. For the person to go away or to speak up, she told herself.

The sound of his voice made her heart simultaneously skip a beat and pound harder and faster.

"Mary, please let me in."

Francis.