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elder441 [chapter 72]: There is always a rainbow at the end of rainfall ;) I'm getting there, having chapters pre-written posted for now but might space them out depending on how I feel. Thank you so much xx

Guest (1) [chapter 72]: Thank you so much xx Your words mean a lot, especially in these times. It will be a while until Rose and Anne come to terms with it, especially Anne as she now has a new role as future Queen of Sweden. At the end of the day, she still wants to be Daddy's Little Girl, but might not have that chance. Francis will have words to tell John, showing him that even if he's dead, John will always have a place just as Bash did following Henry's death. Happy days will come eventually ;) Oh and I am sorry for making you cry! I hope this one does the trick too, haha!

We are now two chapters into what I refer to as 'season 7'. Chapters 70 to 79 will focus on Francis and his health. I find it fun putting these into 'seasons' so to speak as there are so many chapters by now and each group of 9-10 chapters have their own little plot that interweaves with prior or future chapters like TV shows. So enjoy.


Anne stood by the cliff edge, staring into the distance. Everything had changed now and she understood why her father had spoken to her about marrying sooner rather than later.

A French Queen in unchartered lands will prove beneficial to France, Scotland and whatever her parents ruled over. Marriages didn't have to contain love and she set her jaw - she would do as her father wished without question. She will make her marriage work, her husband will be willing to listen to her and should France or Scotland need it, she will have him send support and he will agree.

It had been a full day since they found out and she hadn't seen her father. In fact, shortly after breaking their fast, he'd been sent to bed on Paré's orders. He was weakening by the day and Anne swallowed a sob down.

Her eyes closed and she smiled shakily, remembering all the times she and Francis got into spats or enjoyed spending quality time with each other. No matter what, he always had time for his little girl. His eldest daughter. His Annie.

"Beautiful sight, isn't it?"

Anne nodded, not opening her eyes. "I could be here forever."

"What are you remembering right now?"

Anne sniffled, letting out a sob. "During the plague. Papa played dolls with us. And he and Mama got Rose and me to write those letters to each other. What am I going to do without him, Auntie Kenna?"

Kenna sighed. "You will get through this, Anne. Your father is a strong man, I can promise you that he won't give up without a fight. He loves you all too much to."

"I can't imagine a world without him."

"None of us can," Kenna whispered. "He's become a dear friend of mine. He's not only our king, but he is our father, our in-law, our brother, our uncle, our son... You mustn't worry, Anne. Even when he passes, you mustn't crumble. Anne, your father's death will make you, not break you."

"Can queens ask for hugs?"

Kenna smiled softly and nodded. "Of course," she said, accepting Anne's arms around her frame. She ran her fingers through the girl's hair. "You will be just fine, Anne."

...

"Well?" Francis asked his mother.

Catherine sighed, tears springing to her eyes. "It's just as I thought. The poison used - it's incurable."

"Mother-"

"Francis, I am so sorry," she sobbed, cupping his cheeks. "I wish I could do more. But this strain, it's... it's beyond our time."

Francis placed his hand on hers. "I know you tried your best," he croaked out. "Don't cry."

"Why... why wouldn't I?" Catherine asked. "I should have stayed in France. I never should have gone to Italy-"

"Mother, it would still be the same situation," he said. "Just your lack of presence."

"You are my bright sun, Francis," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "My longed-for child. And now, you're being taken away from me."

"Not willingly."

She laughed softly. "No, not willingly." She shifted her hand to his hair, running her fingers through it. "When did you become so... It feels like yesterday when you were a little boy. You and Mary would tear the castle now, take no prisoners."

"Mary prefers to forget about her rebellious years," he replied lightly. "I keep those stories alive through our children." He took his mother's hand in his. "I know you and Mary have had your differences but please, be there for her. You are the only mother she knows now."

Catherine nodded a little. She couldn't deny, before the whole prophecy thing, she was impressed with the girl queen. Even as a child, Catherine knew that Mary would do great things, be great things.

"I will try."

"Thank you, Mother."

Catherine smiled. "I will let you rest."

She left the bedchamber and found Rose outside, pacing and questioning herself about going in or not. Catherine made the decision for her, gently pushing the girl inside.

"He's still your father," Catherine told her. "No matter how he is."

Rose's eyes sparkled with tears and she closed the door.

...

"How long have you known about Francis dying?" Mary asked Bash as they strolled through the gardens.

"That night you came to find him," Bash admitted.

Mary raised her brows. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was his secret to tell, Mary," Bash told her. "Do you think I'd betray his trust?"

"Even though I am his wife?"

"I was his brother for far longer than you have been his wife," Bash said gently.

Mary scoffed, smiling wryly. "Half-brother."

"Yes, well, brother nonetheless," Bash mumbled.

"Who else knew apart from those treating him?"

Bash shook his head. "I don't know."

"I know when you lie."

"It doesn't matter, Mary," Bash told her. "You can't look for anyone to blame."

"I blame myself."

Bash sighed heavily. "This has nothing-"

"This has everything to do with the prophecy, Bash. You of all people know that fact," Mary told him, eyes wide. "We changed nothing at all. Or perhaps, it has always been set." She blinked her tears away. "All we have done is pushed the time back. But eventually, it caught up to us. We got too comfortable and then we were hit with this."

"He is being poisoned, Mary."

Mary almost stumbled on her footing, holding onto Bash. "Who?!"

"I haven't got a name but they're..."

Mary shook her head. "No."

"Scottish, Mary. Whoever is doing this to Francis, they're Scottish."

Mary let out a sob. "Tell me it isn't true... Could it be my... my brother?"

"I don't know who it is," Bash told her softly. "But I will find out and we will find a cure. Mary, we will save Francis. Or I'll die trying."

Mary hugged him tightly, her sobs wetting his cloak. "Francis is everything to me. If I lose him, I lose myself. Do whatever you must, question and torture who you must - just... save him."

Bash nodded. "I will."

...

"Your Majesty," the page said, bowing to Mary. "An urgent letter from Scotland came."

Mary accepted the letter and dismissed him, getting up from her seat. She was in her former bedchambers, deciding to give Francis rest after Catherine refused to leave his side. She couldn't handle the glares from her mother-in-law and she retreated, allowing the lioness to care for her cub.

Mary tore open the letter and collapsed back into her seat, reading the words repeatedly.

'James Stewart is dead. Poisoned by unknown persons. An investigation is underway. You must protect yourself, your husband and children. The threat is unknown and you may be the next target. Your humble servant and faithful cousin, Duke of Barton, Robert Beaton VI.'

She let out a wail.

She had just got her half-brother brother back and they killed him.

"Mary!" Kenna cried out, entering the bedchambers. She cupped Mary's wet cheeks, wincing when Mary fought against her touch. "Mary, calm down! What is it?"

Mary stopped fighting, shoving the letter into Kenna's chest. Kenna grunted a little, knowing there would be a bruise but she disregarded it and studied the letter.

"Oh, dear God," Kenna breathed out, sinking into the seat beside Mary.

"They wish to kill my father's line," Mary whispered. "Bash was right."

"About what?" Kenna asked fearfully.

Mary turned to her. "Francis's ill health is not of natural causes. He's been poisoned. By a Scot."

Kenna dropped the letter and clamped her hand over her mouth. She sat there, frozen, even when Mary laid her head down on her lap and dug her face into it, sobbing.

"I had him back," she whispered. "I had James back. He was loyal."

"The Scots are revolting..."

First France and now Scotland?

Mary didn't think she had the strength to fight anymore.

...

'I am sending the family to France. I will remain in Holyrood and continue my investigation into the Earl of Moray's death. If it is what we fear, then the Darnleys are seeking to take the Scottish throne. Be careful, do not trust easily. Your humble servant and faithful cousin, Duke of Barton, Robert Beaton VI.'

Mary didn't flinch when she heard the bones crack. Instead, she stood up from her seat to get closer to the action and said, "This all stops when you give me information."

The man shook his head, tears streaming down his face.

"Pull," Mary ordered softly.

His screams were loud, piercing in her ears and she brought her face closer to the former servant, sent exclusively from Scotland.

"Stop."

The pulling stopped.

"Tell me."

The man swallowed hard. "Y-Your first-cousin."

"What about him?"

"Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes. What about him?"

"He believes himself to be the superior claimant to the English and Scottish thrones," the man confessed. "Through his grandmother - Margaret Tudor."

Mary paced the cell, Bash watching her intently for the next instructions.

She couldn't believe it. She gave the man 1,000 crowns and invited him to hers and Francis's coronation. She knew it was an insult when he and the rest of his family rejected the invite and took the money, but she never thought they'd be doing this right under her nose. Brewing and simmering for years.

Then again, Elizabeth of England had been seen as weak for submitting and allowing the French King to bring her country into his hands to make it Catholic. Darnley was an opportunist, as male, he wouldn't make such 'stupid decisions'.

She cursed, turned to Bash and held up a finger. She had to think.

"Release him to the cells. Make sure he is fed, taken care of," Mary finally said. "He is a royal prisoner."

Bash frowned. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He watched as she left. Maybe she had a plan to make the servant a royal prisoner. If she was showing her prisoners with courtesy, she'd get more out of them.

He turned to the man and ordered the guards to unstrap him.

...

By late May, word had got out about the King of France's demise.

Claude dabbed Francis's forehead gently, laughing when he recalled a moment of their childhood. She took the cloth and squeezed it out, dipping it in lemon water and repeating her actions.

"I'm surprised," he mumbled.

"About what?"

He blinked at her. "You doing this."

Claude let out a soft laugh. "I have changed, Francis. I am no longer a spoilt, little princess. I have duties. A son."

"And a husband."

Claude sighed heavily. "About that. I have separated from Leith. I can't be with him when you are like this. You need me more than he does. The wedding is off."

"Claude-"

"There is nothing you can say to change my mind," Claude told him, helping him take a few sips of water. "My King needs me."

"I don't want anyone to stop their lives for my sake," Francis said, taking her hand away from his head. "Go and find him. Now."

"He's preparing those men..., scouts for Scotland with Bash," Claude mumbled, returning to dabbing the sweat away. "He's busy."

"Claude-"

"Oh, look," Claude mumbled, getting up. "There's a bird that has landed on the window sill. Look how pretty it is, Francis!"

Francis watched as she opened up the windows and sat by the window, admiring the creature. It was a coping mechanism and he played along.

"What colour is it?"

"Brown, orange?" She asked unsurely. "I think this one is a robin."

Francis smiled a little, thinking about their nephew. "Robins are divine birds," he began. "A symbol of good luck and the fact that spring is impending."

Claude gasped. "He's flying away!"

Francis settled back in his bed and closed his eyes. "Renewal, passion and new beginnings."

"Or patience and wisdom," Claude said, turning to find that he had fallen asleep.

She stood and pulled the covers onto Francis properly before pressing a kiss on his forehead.

"Sleep well, Francis."

...

Robin smiled as the robin perched on his finger. He was outside, studying under a tree and he turned to see his parents in a heated discussion. They had done that a lot lately but he didn't worry, they always made up someway or another.

"Where's your home, little bird?" He asked the robin.

The robin danced on his finger and Robin laughed. He could feel Hope and Willow scuffling about on his side and he gently scolded them, the dog growling at the fox who simpered away guiltily.

"Hope, to me," Robin called out and the fox nestled herself on his other side.

He could hear his parents clearly now. They had unknowingly got closer to him, Robin seeing his father roll his eyes for the umpteenth time.

"Bash, you don't need to go to Scotland," Kenna said. "If they are killing a French king, they could just as easily kill his French brother. It doesn't matter if their wives are Scottish or not!"

"Francis doesn't trust anyone else and Leith can't go. It has to be me," Bash replied. "We are not going there to fight. It is only a scouting mission."

Kenna stared at him angrily. "You promised me."

"This is for Francis, Kenna," Bash cried out. "You would do the same for Mary. Actually, you did. When you went into my father's bedchambers to take the edict."

"Yes, in the castle and not an entirely another country!" She crossed her arms. "The christenings for the children is soon."

"I'll return before then."

Kenna stared at him dubiously. "How can you ensure that? Do you even know where you are going?"

"Yes. Mary has given me clear instructions and when I met your father the first time, he showed me around," Bash replied. "I am certain that I have not forgotten all of that."

"Bash, please."

"Kenna, if I can save my brother then I will do anything to make that happen," Bash said, bringing her hands in his. "I killed someone for him."

Robin looked up in surprise.

"Catherine had a secret daughter. Apparently, during their time in Italy, she abducted Charles and Little Henri," Bash told her. "Her being alive meant that Francis could get worse. They were linked - as we are. I can't lose Francis, Kenna."

Kenna dug her face into his chest. "I know," she mumbled against him. "Francis doesn't deserve such a loyal brother as you."

"I love you, Kenna."

"I love you too," she mumbled. "Just be careful."

He cupped her cheeks. "I know you're worried I'll do another disappearing act. But my will to be with you and our children will guide me home."

Kenna smiled wryly and nodded, kissing him softly. "I have to find Mary. You better say 'goodbye' to the children. One's watching us as if we've grown two heads."

Robin whistled and looked down at his book when he felt his parents' gazes on him. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil."

"Come with us, Robin," Kenna said, waving him over. "I'll see if there are any pomegranate tarts to eat."

"Are you...?" Bash asked.

Kenna burst out laughing. "No! But your face!"

"Dear God..."

...

Mary snuggled into Francis's side, smiling softly when she felt his lips on her head. She couldn't be apart from him for too long. She couldn't sleep without him by her side but she will return to her empty bed later on. Ambroise did not want anyone disturbing his treatment.

"What detox elixirs have Paré got you on?" She asked her husband.

"I've lost count of them," Francis mumbled. "There are too many to remember."

Mary nodded and laid her head back down on his chest. "At least the fever has broken. You were touch and go for a while there."

"You shouldn't be so close. Caterina needs you well," Francis told her softly.

"I've put her in the care of the nanny and wetnurse," Mary replied, closing her eyes. "She's fine."

"We can't have two sick monarchs," Francis said, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "Defeats the purpose of a strong front."

Mary smiled wryly. "Well, you better keep quiet because nothing will change my mind."

"So, what has Bash found out?"

"You don't need to worry about that-"

"I know that James is dead," Francis cut her off. "Kenna told me. She is the only one giving me that courtesy lately."

Mary gave him a look. "You are supposed to be focusing on yourself. Leave the rest to me. You will make yourself worse."

"I trust you to have everything at hand," Francis began. "But I would like to be kept informed. It is me who is suffering greatly."

"Fine then," she said, pressing a kiss on his lips. "I will let you in on everything we find out."

"A kiss for intel?"

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Depends on how good the kiss is."

Francis grinned and kissed her deeply before whispering against her lips, "Was that good?"

"Good enough," Mary breathed out, opening her eyes. "Lord Darnley."

"Your cousin?"

"Yes."

"He's poisoning me?"

"Uh-uh," she said. "A kiss first."

He pressed his lips against hers again. "Answer my question."

Mary nodded, swallowing hard. "He wants to claim my throne and the English one as a male descendant and claimant."

"What else?"

Mary kissed him this time. "Darnley killed my half-brother."

"Mary, I'm so sorry," Francis breathed out. "I thought it was of natural causes. So Darnley is killing your father's line off or attempting to?"

Mary nodded, sniffling. "My father had bastard sons scattered across Scotland. I have reports of their deaths. James was the most important one, as regent in Scotland. Now, they're going for me through you. If you die, I am weakened once again even if I have your sons." Her fingers worked on making circles on his chest as her gaze lowered to that. "I don't know what to do."

"Mary, I have no doubt that you will find a way," Francis told her. "Even when I die-"

"You mean if."

"If," Francis started uncertainly. "You will still do great things. We've had a life together. I don't regret any second of it. I will cherish those moments, Mary."

"I don't want the last time I see you, to be on my deathbed," she breathed out. "When I'm old and grey, surrounded by our grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Fight for us, Francis."

Francis kissed her softly. "I will."

...

"Father?"

Francis opened his eyes and smile. "Come inside, John."

John stepped in and closed the door behind him. He walked over to the end of the bed and picked on a strand of loose thread on the covers.

"How do you feel?"

"As expected."

John pulled a face. "If you die, what happens to me?"

"What do you mean?" Francis asked him, confused.

John sighed, pulling the desk chair and bringing it over to Francis's bedside. He sat down and rested his chin on his fists. "You are the reason I am here. If you die, where does that put me? Or even my mother?"

"John, you have a barony nearby should you and your mother wish to leave," Francis began. "But here is your home. Mary will not ever take it away from you, she's the main reason you're both here. As her lady-in-waiting and her godson."

John smiled a little. "So, we'll still be protected?"

"Yes," Francis told him. "You do not have to worry."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Francis nodded, reaching out to take John's hand. "Be the best person you can. Break the glass ceiling, build a life worthy of living."

"How? I'm a bastard."

Francis laughed, brushing John's hair away from his eyes. "Have you met my half-brother?"

"You owe me."

"I do?" Francis asked, confused.

John smiled, nodding and hugging his father. "A hunting trip. That's what kings do with their bastard sons."

"Heh," Francis replied softly. "When I feel better, I will have the best hounds to come with us."

"Can Anne and Rose join us too?"

Traditionally, it was between men and their sons but Francis nodded and smiled. "They can come too. We will make a trip out of it. Best weather, best horses, best bows and arrows... Only happiness, John Philip. Promise me."

John shakily nodded. "I promise."

"I... promised your little half-brothers a story. I may need to postpone it unless...?"

John stood and picked his seat up. "I will read them to bed."

"Thank you," Francis replied. "No matter what, you are still my son."

John returned the seat and left, closing the doors behind him. He walked away, leaving the guards curious about the conversation held inside. He headed downstairs and found Anne alone in the throne room, sitting cross-legged in the middle.

"Do you think it's scary to be king?" She whispered but he could hear her loud and clear.

"I wouldn't know," was his reply. "I'm only a bastard."

Anne furrowed her brows. "I used to dream of being queen. Wore the best dresses, had the best makeup, the best shoes, the best tiaras... But now Papa's... nothing matters." She turned to him with watery eyes. "Who did we wrong to deserve this?"

"I don't know, Anne," John told her. "If I did, I'd kill them myself."

"I'd join you," Anne replied. "I am going to be queen. Queen of Sweden. All alone in a country that I don't understand. A language that I don't understand. Faces that I don't recognise. With the cold reminder that my father would be dead."

"I'd join you," John said this time. "I will take on a job as a guard. So you have one familiar face."

Anne turned to smile at him a little. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course. You're my sister. I will look after you, no matter what," John replied.

Anne nodded and turned back to the thrones. "I will be sitting on one, one day." She stood and walked up the steps.

"Get used to it then."

Anne took a deep breath in and released it before sitting on her mother's throne. "God save the Queen."

Mary who had been walking passed stopped in her tracks and turned to study her eldest child. She gasped at how queenly she looked, yet so young and innocent and tears sprung to her eyes as she stepped inside, gaining the children's attention.

Mary curtseyed. "Your Majesty."

Anne laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Your Majesty," she responded in kind, getting up to curtsey before they giggled.

Anne hurried down the steps and ran into her mother's arms, inhaling Mary's scent as Mary closed her eyes and ran her fingers through the girl's hair.

"Oh, Mama."

"My Annie," Mary whispered. "My sweet, sweet Annie."

John left them to their privacy, finally releasing the sobs that had been brewing in his chest.

"John?" Robin called him before gasping and hugging him tightly. "Oh, John..."