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(disclaimer: I don't own anything)

29.

„Thank you your Highness, for taking the time to see me. I am most honored." the count bowed before him.

„For you always." he smiled at his guest. „ It is as you said, we are family after all, Piero. Come sit with me." he pointed to the chairs by the fire.

The Italian nobleman followed suit and sank into the chair opposite him. Piero was one of his mother cousins, one of the few Medici people still alive. He had mad his way to France, or Paris to be more exact, a few years ago for business and safety concerns. Apparently the French were more willing to invest money, an essential trait in clients for a family of bankers.

The two had barely spoken since their last encounter, which had only left a very blurred memory in Francis' head. He only remembered something about accusations against his brother connecting him to their father's death. But the man had appeared at court at a suspiciously convenient time, considering all circumstances.

Could he trust him? He wore a sly smile and had his mother cunning eyes, although he looked more Italian than Cathrine. He had played through all the options in his head multiple times, weighing each one carefully. The Italian might truly intend to help, him, his mother, their family. But on the other hand, he had met parts of his mother's family before and they had made Cathrine look almost like an innocent puppy by comparison. Of course the Medici family was infamous for their cunning and back stabbing, after all that is how one acquired power the easiest.

Finally he had decided to give into Piero's pleas for a private audience. Hearing the man out couldn't really do much harm, could it?

„So tell me, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" he thought it best not to circle around the actual merit for too long.

„I am in constant correspondence with my dear brothers, back in Florence. I do believe you're aware that our family used to contribute to the French crown in return for let's say … certain favors." the man almost unnoticeable pursed his lips, the sly smile still in place.

„I am, yes. And I assume the point here it that the Medici used to pay the crown. They don't anymore." he folded his hands in his lap.

„Indeed, your Highness. I hope we have your understanding in this matter. Your brother … pardon, half brother does not agree to meet our demands and there are no legal ties forcing us to pay." his Italian accent was growing thicker by the minute in accordance with his widening grin.

„Let me guess." he sighed. „Your demands are his …"

„Yes, his resignation from the throne." the Italian was to eager to let him finish. „After all he is a bastard, not a real royal."

„A bastard legitimized by the Vatican, the pope himself." he countered.

„But you say so yourself, your Highness, a bastard nonetheless."

It was almost comical. Only days before he had argued just with the same words that the count had just used. He had told Mary that she had married a bastard with a frail claim to the crown. Now here he was, defending his brother, despite all that had transpired.

He wasn't even sure why he was doing it. Maybe it was out of pity or just an annoying habit, they had been brothers and best friends for nearly two decades after all. He liked to think that that was the reason, when the truth was by far more self-serving.

The crown was tied to a life spent at court, a life in the golden cage with only one duty, to serve the country. In truth it was more like a never-ending game of conniving politics and backstabbing. He hadn't minded it all the years before, when it had been out of the question to become anything else but the King when his father would pass.

But now that he had actually taste the sweet freedom, once he had strayed from his shackles at court, he was more reluctant than ever to return. Everything would be so much simpler, no need to worry about political crisis, opposing lords and the life under the microscope that was French court. If none of them had been born into royal houses maybe Mary and he would already have a beautiful family, never once worrying about the threat of the English or a protestant invasion.

Unfortunately, the count's words were suspicious to say the least. He already knew where this was leading.

„Count, I do know that you are not happy with our current ruler. But it is neither mine nor your place to question god's decision." he tried his best to keep his words patient.

„Oh don't bring god into this. The Vatican is weak, Paul IV is on his death bed and I do not doubt his successor will agree with us." he drummed with his fingers on the leather. „My brothers in Florence have confirmed that one of ours will likely carry the papal seal next."

„So you do plan to overthrow our King?" he couldn't believe that the man would state such a bold claim out in the open, where anyone could be listening in on them right now.

„He is no legitimate ruler in the first place. I consider it my task to right the wrongs, which the French crown has had to endure. After all, the majority of the Lords stands behind this decision." a slight smirk was playing on his lips, only adding to the eery air .

„And what of the Queen. Queen Mary is a catholic ruler, we can't risk loosing Scotland to the protestants." his heart was suddenly quickening in his chest.

He hadn't thought of that yet. For better or for worse her fate was inevitably tied to his brother's. If he should fall, she and her whole country would fall with him.

„The Queen is of not much interest to the catholic church. They know about the English's advancements on the Scottish border. Sooner or later the country is doomed to fall into protestant hands and sending troops would only be a waste of valuable men. Quite frankly, we can afford to lose Scotland but France we cannot. If the protestant uprisings truly result in civil war, god may help us all." the count was now looking at him expectantly.

He was doing his best to hold back the bitter expression forming on his face. This was preposterous, this was treason they were talking about. Not only that, this man and probably most of the nobles with him didn't care for Mary. He couldn't allow anything to happen to her, he needed to find a way to get her out of this mess before everything inevitably came crashing down around them.

„I am sorry, but I'm afraid I can't help you." he rose from his chair, meaning to escort the count from his rooms.

„Your highness, the people stand behind you, they are ready. You are their true King, it is in your blood." the other man hurried to get his point across but Francis had had enough.

„Stop it. I will hear no more of this talk. Do you understand?" he hardened his tone, hoping the Italian would comply.

„Certainly, your Highness. You know where to find me if you should have a change of heart." with one last sly smile in his direction the Count disappeared behind the closing doors.

With one big breath he allowed himself to fall back into the chair. This was an even bigger mess than he had anticipated. The only silver lining he could make out, was that they needed him. In order for their plans to actually manifest, they would need him, the Dauphin, to comply and he had not the slightest intention of doing so. He could only hope that they wouldn't try anything reckless on their own.

This was a problem that had to be dealt with but he was to tired to ponder the topic any longer.

They were walking arm in arm, all eyes in court fixed on them. He detested all the attention but he had to remind himself that it was for a greater cause. They would stop every few meters to greet the countless congratulators of their engagement. Amélie would proudly show of the dainty golden ring gracing her finger and the women would instantly gush about the upcoming wedding.

He was glad, Amélie was good at talking and entertaining people, much better at theater then he himself. So all he had to do was smile and thank the noble lords and ladies. They had been at this for more than a day now, since their engagement had been announced by Amélie brother, and his dear friend, the day prior. It felt weird and wrong, and in a way he supposed it was. But a part of him was relieved, the fact that people had finally stopped bothering him about his future wife and all the countless offers he had received each day. It was a nice change for once, openly being able to talk to one of his best friends, who now the whole country believed to be his future wife.

And for some short seconds he had forgotten why he had done it in the first place. In those moments, actually marrying Amélie didn't seem like such a terrible idea. She was kind, good hearted and intelligent, maybe the closest friend he had. True, he didn't love her, or not in that way anyways, but he supposed that those things could be learned, acquired over time. And as the past year had shown him, love didn't always make one happy. On the opposite, it had made him miserable beyond imagining.

But his mind couldn't forget Mary for long. Sooner or later, mostly sooner, her face or name would pop up in his thoughts again. Then all the dreams of marrying another would quickly fade away and give way to the lust that was still there in his heart. He wanted her, after all that had happened, after all that she had done, he still wanted her.

He knew that she had to be somewhere in the crowd, he had spied Kenna just a minute ago. Most probably she was hiding somewhere, it would be unlike her to publicly humiliate herself. Although that was the whole lesson behind this little game, wasn't it. But she was to proud to be caught in an awkward situation in front of the whole court.

Amélie had returned her full attention to him as there was no once in close proximity to them. She was practically glowing, it was evident how much she was enjoying herself.

„Dear, I think she is looking at us." she kept her smile innocent as not to alert anyone to the content of her words. „I saw her at the back with that lady of hers. You should say something funny."

„Well if you don't find a suitable husband you can always get through as a detective." he gazed at her, an ever so faint smirk playing on his lips.

She instantly broke out into a fit of in-ignorable giggles and automatically heads started to turn their direction again. He was in awe of how seemingly easy this was for her, every smile, every word, they all sounded so sincere coming from her lips.

„I love the way you blush every time I call you my fiancee." he spoke just loud enough for people hear.

He was slowly getting the hang of this game. She half winked, half glared at him from below and her cheeks distinctly turned a brighter shade of pink. As if to hide her embarrassment, she moved closer and buried her face in his arm.

He also turned her way and bid his lip, as not to laugh at the absurdity of it. But this was fun, and definitely a way to take his mind off more serious matters.

When he allowed his eyes to glide over the crowed searching, he was almost shocked at how close Mary was. He had not seen her approach them but there she stood, only meters away. He quickly turned his gaze back to his fiancee, careful not to break the spell. If he would look her in the eyes it would only make this that much harder. But this was necessary, he had to do this, there was no other way.

„This is great and you're a natural at this." he whispered as he puller her into a hug.

He could sense her smirk at him in response. He pushed some of the stray strands of her blond locks out of her face, satisfied with their performance.

When he looked back over his shoulder, Mary was gone and Kenna was nowhere to be seen either. He let loose a silent sigh, their plan was working after all.

„Francis, there is something I must do. Will you excuse me for a bit?" Amélie gave him one of her sweetest smiles.

„Well now, is my fiancee already tiering of me?" he teased and she only rolled her eyes in response.

„I will meet you in you chambers, yes?" she squeezed his hand and made her way through the crowd.

After several more dull conversations with several noble men, he decided to retire to his chambers as well. He was good at politics and negotiating but he detested small talk and the vanity most people at court displayed so openly.

He was only two more corridors from his door when a figure glided from the shadows, positioning itself in the middle of the hallway. An unnerved sigh escaped him at the thought of having to deal with another courtier.

He had almost made up his mind to quickly rush by to his chamber when the person spoke and he froze in his tracks as he instantly recognized the voice.

„We need to talk." she had her hands on her hips and her chin was raised at him.

„I don't think now is a good time, Kenna." he glared at her.

How dared she? Why was it that everyone seemed to think that he owed them something? They had all been the ones to betray him but apparently that counted for nothing. He pressed his lips together, inhaling deeply to gather his thoughts.

„I don't care." she hissed under her breath. „I told you to leave her alone."

„Well I have, haven't I?" he challenged her. „I haven't talked to her, I haven't even seen her in a week. Also shouldn't you be happy, I found someone to marry, just like you suggested I do." his voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.

„Don't you dare." the danger glimmered openly in her now pitch black eyes.

„Excuse me. You have all seemed to have forgotten who kept secrets from who for months, who wouldn't even tell me a word. So yes, I dare." he took a step towards her, just enough to propel her further.

„Francis, stop it. This is not some childish game or your broken pride. You know just as well as I do that the nobles are getting harder and harder to control. If they even suspect Mary of infidelity or anything of that sorts, it will cost her head. So don't be so foolish, I know you care." she whispered the words angrily into his ear.

He glared at her for a moment, pondering what to retort with. She was right in a way, but if he left, Mary would be no saver.

„Don't you think I know that?"

„Then leave. You have your charming fiancee, you two should find a castle and stay there, preferably far from here." the determination was ringing in her voice.

„No, I've told you before and I will tell you again. I am not leaving court and you can't make me." it was him who was hissing at her now.

„No Francis, I can't. But she is your Queen. She does not wish to see you anymore. I know you wont believe me but before you say anything wait. You are endangering her here, and I don't care how broken your heart is, you will do the right thing. Because you love her and you don't want to be the one responsible if anything happens." with that she simply turned and hurried the other direction.

He stood there perplexed for a minute. There was an uneasy heaviness settling in his stomach and his head felt weirdly numb. Was she right, was he a danger to Mary?

His head was spinning when he finally stumbled through the door.

„Do you …" Amélie stopped in her tracks, the wine bottle already in her hand, when she caught his beaten expression. „What happened?"

„Kenna" was all he could say.

She quickly placed the bottle on a nearby table before hurrying his way and embracing him in a hug.

When she let go again, he ran his hands through his hair, only now realizing how tired he truly was.

„I think a drink is in order." he groaned, falling onto the couch.

Amélie swiftly poured both of them a rather big glass of dark red wine. He had already finished half of his when she broke the silence.

„What did she say?" her gentle smile really did have calming effect on his nerves, or maybe it was just the wine.

„Just the same thing all over again." he swallowed another sip and savored the feeling of warmth running through his body. „She wants me to leave. Apparently I am the one who poses a threat to our Queen." he nearly snorted at the irony of his own words.

„I see." Amélie kicked of her heels and stretched her legs. „But she can't really force you, can she?"

„No I guess she can't … but sometimes I wonder." he pursed his lips. „I wonder if I'm doing the right thing in staying here. Maybe it is wrong, maybe I should simply leave her alone."

Amélie seemed to weigh his words and she emptied her first glass while pondering a response.

„Maybe …" she poured them both another glass. „But you have to remember what you came back here for in the first place. If you leave now you will always wonder what could have been, question your decision. You owe this to yourself, to at least try."

He slowly nodded and his head felt heavier by the minute as the wine trickled into his stomach. She was right, of course she was. He couldn't give in now, he had already come too far for that.

„We should go for a walk tomorrow." she rested her legs on the couch and ever so slightly leaned into him.

„Hmm that sounds nice." he momentarily closed his eyes, letting his head fall back until it collided with the couch.

„She still takes walks every morning?"

„I believe so." he saw where she was going with this and it was a smart approach, he had to give her that.

„Good, then she will have to see us." Amélie sighed contently and nestled her head on his shoulder.

In response he put one arm around her and simply savored the feeling of having another person so close. She was so warm next to his body and her skin soft under his touch. He angled his head towards her, half resting it on top of hers. Her hair was now all he could see and her sweet scent filled his nose with every breath he took. She smelled good, nothing like Mary, but that didn't matter in that moment. It was an innocent sweetness, the detectable note of roses mixing with a hint of lavender and honey. So pure and innocent.

For a minute he entertained the thought of imagining it was Mary in his arms, with her body so closely pressed against his chest. Her weight was baring down on him and he relished the feeling. They had spent countless nights like this. All innocence as they had enjoyed each others company, simply knowing the other so close. Nothing could have torn them apart, they had been meant for one another and no one could have destroyed their little bubble of happiness.

He would tease her and her giggles would fill the room in response. They had had picnics before the fire in his room, resting on mountains of pillows and soft blankets. Inevitably he hadn't been able to resist the urge and had commenced to throw some of the grapes from his plate on her. She had screamed out in laughter and immediately revenged herself with an attack of her own.

It had always ended the same way though. They would topple over and finally collide on top one another. Heavy breathing and reddened faces on both parts. And it had been perfect, ever last moment. Her beauty never lost to his eyes, no matter how sweaty or disheveled her once neatly braided hair had become. Seeing her sweet face and those incredibly dark eyes, he had lost himself in countless time, was home to him. The one place in the world where he felt completely at ease, where he belonged with all his heart.

Her face, the skin felt so familiar to his fingers as he cupped her cheeks. There faces where mere inches away and he could feel her breaths tingle the hairs of his beard. Her pupils were dilated almost completely, intoxicating his head only further. He could feel the longing pull in his heart and how his mouth went dry with anticipation. His heart must be racing in his chest but all of that fell away, every sound was wiped from his ears and he could only focus on her lips. They were slightly parted and he admired their graceful shape. He wanted this, more than he had ever wanted anything. He needed to feel her again, taste her mouth to insure himself of the validity of his dreams.

His breaths came quicker now and the moment their lips touched he felt it like a rush through his whole system. His fingers tingled and his chest was filled with a warmth he so welcomed. The surge in his veins was intoxicating as they ever so gently moved against each other. He devoured each moment, never wanting to let go. Afraid of might happen if he did.

It bolted through him like a sharp sword, he remembered. Breathless he pulled away and his hands fell from her face. He should have known. How could he have been so stupid. When his vision returned and his eyes focused on her face, he could only feel regret. This was utterly wrong and it had been his fault entirely. Her eyes, they were supposed to be a deep shade of chocolate, but the pair that stared back at him now was bright green only interrupted by the golden flakes around the center.

His mind went numb and his brain was unable to decide what to do next. This had been a mistake, how had he allowed this to happen? The muscles in his neck and face tightened beneath his burning skin and the guilt shot through him. It had felt so right, so good and the anger that overcame him was solely directed to himself.

„Francis" she sounded just as out of breath as he was. „I am so sorry, I should have never …"

He only gaped at her, the wine in his blood making it nearly impossible to form a coherent thought. To his dismay he could see the tears rising in her eyes and she clasp her hands over her slightly swollen lips. She looked absolutely mortified and it only depend his guilt. This was not her fault, he had been the one to initiate it.

But it must be as clear to her now as it was to him that in his head he hadn't kissed her. The first thick tear rolled down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away with a trembling hand.

„I am so sorry." she repeated. „This is my fault, it won't … it won't happen again." she stumbled of the couch nearly knocking over her wine glass in the process.

His head finally recovered enough and he was right behind her. Before she could reach the door he took hold of her hand and forced her to turn.

„No, I am the one to apologize. This is not your fault." he could hear the tremble in his voice. „Please don't go, not now."

She stared at him with what was a mixture of shock and incredulousness before her stance softened and she gave into his plea. The wine had evidently left its mark other as well as she had difficulties to keep herself upright.

He weighed his options. Of course he could call for a maid to take her back to her room but he was in no mood to speak to anyone, let alone allow another person in his rooms at this hour. So he decided to guide her towards his bed and in his own intoxicated state did his best to safely tug her under the covers.

The sleep took her within seconds and he could feel the heavy darkness settling in his own head. He allowed himself to fall against the pillow on his side of the bed and the exhaustion was swallowing him.

Dark eyes followed him into his dreams and the thought of her intoxicated his mind more than the wine ever could.

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