Sheesh, we're going strong with this! Their story is not over yet, everyone.
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elder441 [chapter 83]: Thank you very much! Here's a New Year's gift!
"Lord Lennox, thank you for taking the time to visit me," Rose began, pouring them both some tea. "I, uh, I want you to know that you should ignore the stares and talks. My family and I trust you."
James nodded slowly, looking into his cup. "I'm glad you are safe. I don't know what I'd do without you. We've become... good friends. Haven't we?"
Rose smiled and nodded. "Yes, we have," she told him, patting his hand as she rose from her seat. Then her face set. "If your father dares to overtake my parents' thrones, I need to know whose side you will be on."
James' eyes flickered towards her in alarm. He opened his mouth a few times in surprise and fear before looking back down. "Yours." He cleared his throat and met her eyes. "Your parents took me in when my father abandoned me. My mother is dead, I barely knew her and whenever he was around me, he'd..." He swallowed hard. "Let's just say, he wasn't the best of fathers. I seldom get jealous of how close you are to the King, of the relationship he has with his children. That will never be my father and I nor was it ever. My loyalty is to the true Queen of Scotland, Mary, Queen of Scots and her French allies in your father."
Rose stared him down, searching for anything which meant his words were false. When she found none, she pressed a kiss on the top of his head and sat down, bringing her teacup to her lips. Her eyes landed on his surprised ones as he bowed his head.
"Your Highness, I should let you rest-"
"Stay," she told him. "I've been unfair. I haven't been putting much effort into our relationship, our marriage and at one point, we will be intimate and become husband and wife in so many more ways. But for now, I'd like to get to know you better. More than the son of the deranged man out to destroy my parents."
James smiled a little, receiving a quirk from her own lips. "Well, I guess we should start with our hobbies. I don't have much other than reading. I could read for days but I haven't been taught French nor Latin or even Spanish. My father didn't arrange for a detailed education for me."
Standing up once again, Rose went over to her bookshelf and retrieved a couple of books before giving them a firm nod. She returned to her seat and slid the books across the surface towards James.
"We will start with French lessons. You will then be able to understand the insults members of Court say to your face, knowing you don't understand," she told him, smirking at his embarrassment. "Don't worry, you could always tease them by asking if they're seeing 'ducks' all the time."
"Oh," James mumbled, opening the book. "I guess we should get started."
"Indeed. Start from the first page," she replied, tapping the book. "We'll have you turned into a Frenchman in no time."
...
"Your Majesty-"
"Where is my uncle?"
"Your father's off-"
Anne didn't bother listening to the rest of the poor noble's response as she hurried up the stairs and burst into her father's offices, finding her uncle behind the desk, writing. "Uncle Bash. Any word?"
"Nothing," he said, not bothering to look up from his work. "Just as I told you an hour ago. And an hour before that. Anne, stand down."
"You may be regent," she began. "But I still hold seniority at Court as Queen-"
"Of another kingdom," her uncle finished tiredly. "And James, your brother, still holds more seniority than both of us combined. Anne, darling, your mother will be found and your father will send word. We just have to put faith in their efforts."
Anne let out a frustrated groan. "If you won't do anything, I will," she told him. "I will get on a boat and find Maman myself!"
"Get on a boat in this weather and drown," Bash replied simply, finally looking up and meeting her eyes with a sweet smile. "Any more crazy ideas?"
"Locking you up in a dungeon," Anne replied lightly, crossing her arms. "I just want my parents back home. Where they belong... What if they kill my mother?"
Bash shook his head. "Anne, your mother is one of the strongest women I know. So much has happened to her that she has risen above and grown stronger out of. She will hold her own, trust me." He shuffled through some papers and placed his pen down. "Why don't you spend time with your siblings? Take your mind off of things?"
Anne sighed heavily, checking the weather outside through the window. It was raining heavily and she turned back to her uncle. "Fine. But I will be here in an hour's time for an update."
"For my sake, I'm praying for one," she heard her uncle reply as she left, chuckling to herself.
As she wandered through the halls of the castle, the worrying pit in the bottom of her stomach, she stumbled across Rose and Lord Lennox speaking in French. Rose was teaching him and from Lord Lennox's eyes, he was smitten with the poor thing.
"Anne!"
"Too busy being a tutor to notice that I've been standing here for the last three minutes?" Anne teased her sister as Lord Lennox's ears stained pink. "How are you both?"
Rose shook her head a little. "Worried," she replied, making Anne nod with a grimace. "I'm trying to put my mind off of it. I've not exactly been able to do so though."
"Don't worry, Mama is strong. Henry Stewart will die," Anne said, her eyes flickering over to James who didn't flinch or react one bit. He merely bowed to the girls and excused himself.
"Did you have to be so blunt?" Rose muttered, following after.
"What? It's true!" Anne called after as Rose hurried to catch up with James. "Darnley will pay for his sins..."
...
Mary opened her eyes, flinching when there was a bright light in them. Taking the time to adjust, she sat up and noted that she had been moved since the time she became unconscious until now. Beside her, on the table, was a tankard full of water and a plate of bread, thin meat and cheese.
"You'll need your strength," Darnley said, entering the bedchamber. "We will be travelling to Scotland soon."
"So, we're still in England?" Mary asked curiously, warily eyeing the food.
"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so by now," he hissed, downing half of the tankard himself before taking a morsel of the food. "There."
Mary glared up at him. "I'm not hungry." Her stomach betrayed her, rumbling at that moment, her mind cursing her body. She hadn't eaten in God knew how long and tentatively, she began to dig in. She ravaged the food, a woman starved and downed the remaining water. "Where are we?"
"Fotheringhay Castle," Darnley replied, looking out of the window.
Something in Mary gave her an unsettled feeling. This castle... She swore she heard once about her late cousin's plans to have her beheaded here a long time ago before they became allies and Elizabeth conceded her throne and crown.
"They're patrolling everywhere, sir-"
"You idiot, get out!" Darnley cried out to the guard. Once he left, he turned to Mary. "Costs so much to get reliable and smart help, these days."
Mary rolled her eyes. "You won't win. The Reformists won't help your cause."
"John Knox is helping my cause. Many wealthy Protestants are funding the assassinations of the members of the French royal family and my rise to power as King of Scotland and England," Darnley told her. "As of right now, Scotland's men are killing your little French and Dutch soldiers. The Catholic nobles are being slaughtered in their homes. We have Holyrood, Mary. You're too late."
Mary's eyes widened as her corset suddenly became too tight for her to breathe in. "You're lying."
"We had your bastard brother killed. Your cousin, Beaton, escaped with his family. Shame. Could have enjoyed spilling his blood too," Darnley replied. "I will convert to Protestantism, to honour my promise to Knox in return for his aid. Scotland is mine."
Mary threw up what little of the food she ate, tears springing to her eyes. "I will never be your wife," she said weakly. "You might as well finish me now."
"That would be too easy. At least see Scotland for the last time," Darnley said, tenderly cupping her chin. He pressed a kiss on her forehead and smiled. "Don't worry, I'll make your husband and children's deaths quick. They will know no pain."
Mary closed her eyes.
...
"How many?" Francis asked.
"Three-thousand men, Your Majesty," the soldier said morosely. "French and Dutch alike. They managed to kill what little English sent on the border. Holyrood burns."
Francis turned to Leith. "What of Mary? Do we have any idea where he took her?"
"We have men at every possible location to mind," Leith said. "But we haven't found her, yet."
"Then why are you still here?" Francis snapped. "Get her and find her."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Leith mumbled, bowing and leaving.
Francis turned back to the soldiers. "The Welshmen, who knows how to converse with them?"
"I-I do, Your Majesty," one English soldier piped up. "My mother is Welsh."
"Good. You will lead them to try and scout Holyrood," Francis told him, turning to another English soldier. "You will lead the Irishmen to the Scottish coast to defend it as more men from France and the Netherlands arrive." He turned to a French soldier. "You will go down south and retrieve the men Philip sent and have some men stay to wait for the Prussians. You're dismissed."
The room emptied, leaving him alone to grab a decanter and a cup. He filled it to the brim and downed it, grabbing the letters sent from France to read them at the desk. The first letter included updates from Bash, France was doing just fine. The next one was from his mother, stating she was paying for a team of Italian mercenaries to look for Mary. It made Francis smile a little, every little helped. The third one was from Anne, telling him how much she and her siblings missed him and Mary and that she prayed her mother would return to them safely.
His shoulders sagged and tears clogged his throat.
Francis always swore ever since Mary was raped, that he'd be there to protect her. No matter what. Since then, he's failed his wife multiple times. But he always managed to get back to her. He can't lose hope now, his wife needs him, she needs him to protect and fix Scotland for her and find her.
"You mean everything to me, Mary," he whispered, closing his eyes and letting tears slide down his cheeks. "I'll burn the world down, tear it apart to find you. I swear it."
Clasping his hands together on the desk, he bowed his head and began to pray.
...
"I want Mama and Papa!"
"I know James," Kenna mumbled, brushing his hair back. "They will be home very soon, I promise you."
James shoved her hand away, turning onto his other side. "I want them to read me to bed."
"James..." Kenna trailed off, her heart aching for the children who missed their parents so terribly. There had been no word and Anne had been coming to her and Bash's bedchambers at ungodly hours to request for updates. It got to the point where she kicked her husband to the offices so she could catch a decent night's sleep before spending the day looking after her nieces and nephews and praying for Mary's safe return.
He began to sob, digging his face into the pillow as Kenna pulled him to her frame and hugged him tightly. "I miss Mama. The bad man took her away. Just like they took Papa away."
Kenna was surprised that James remembered that. When Antoine took over France for that brief time. He'd barely been one, but he must have heard it from gossip amongst other things.
"Mama will come home very soon," she told him, coaxing him to sleep using a special massaging technique she did for her own children. "She loves you and your siblings so very much. She can't wait to see you. And she will never leave you again..."
Before she knew it, James had fallen asleep and she sighed in relief. Pecking his head, she got out of the bed and pulled the duvet up to cover him up. He looked so much like Francis and Kenna knew the whole Court missed their King and most especially, their Queen.
She had heard of the slaughtered Frenchmen abroad in her birth country and she felt so guilty and awful. Her brother had written word of his and the rest of their family's escape before Holyrood was taken over by Darnley and the Reformists and she felt sick to her stomach. Francis and Mary were dealing with yet another uprising and revolution against them.
"Auntie Kenna...!"
She checked James once more before heading to the conjoined bedchambers where the twins were. Peter and Joseph were huddled in Peter's bed, shivering from the cold.
"The window has been left open!" She cried out, latching it closed and going over to stoke the fire to make them warmer. "Are you alright?"
It had been raining for hours, getting worse with each hour. She got onto the bed and brought the boys to her chest, pressing kisses on their foreheads. They were safer and warmer now.
"You're alright now," she told them, petting them to bed before setting them down and getting off the bed. She double-checked the windows, satisfied that they were all firmly closed shut.
She thought about checking on the girls but Rose had taken Caterina into her care in her quarters with Anne next door with Oskar. And they were at the other end of the castle. She ought to leave them alone.
With a mind to check on James on more time, she headed back into his room and froze when she saw a dark cloaked figure getting closer to the sleeping child.
Quietly, she made her way towards the man who took out a sharp blade and she retrieved a knife attached underneath the table. Slowly and soundlessly, she continued to get closer to him and just before he could pierce James' skin with his blade, she slowly slit the man's throat and sank them both down onto the ground, the man slumping against her chest as blood began to seep everywhere.
Swallowing hard, she shuffled away from him and checked his face. She recognised him, one of the Scottish noblemen's bastard. A Reformist. Her eyes widened and the doors burst open, her husband and a few guards hurrying in.
"Kenna!"
The shout woke James up and he burst into tears upon seeing blood spattered all over him. Snapping from her reverie, Kenna lifted him into her arms, not caring about how heavy he was.
"Get the boys and follow the guards now," Bash ordered and she nodded, hurrying to retrieve Peter and Joseph from the bed.
"Come, boys. We have to go," she said softly, their eyes widening at the blood on her. "It's nothing. James just had a nosebleed."
She grabbed Peter's hand as he grabbed Joseph's and they hurried after the guards, meeting her children, the girls and their husbands and Queen Agnes downstairs. They were ushered into carriages outside and before they knew it, they were on their way to Versailles. Travelling with her were her daughters, Caterina, Xander, James and a wetnurse. Robin and John were with Peter, Joseph, Anne, Rose and Lord Lennox. They even had children sitting on the older children's laps to make space.
"Did that man want to kill me?" James asked tearfully from her chest.
Kenna laughed softly. "No, he was only checking up on you. But he looked scary so I had to... I had to put him to sleep," she said, swallowing hard. She gave him a warm smile and eyed the other children. "You're safe, you're all safe."
...
"I need to do something," Rose said, pacing her new bedchambers.
"Do what?" Her husband asked. "Rose, your uncle told us to stay put as he defended Fon-"
"I am not talking about the Scottish Reformists at Fontainebleau," Rose told him. "I am talking about not being weak or scared. I will lead an army to fight the Reformists in Scotland."
James stood, brows furrowed. "Rose, you'll get yourself killed. Didn't you say that you were kidnapped?"
"By English and French backstabbers," Rose replied. "I will be Queen of Scotland one day. Mary II of Scots. If I don't act now, defend my Catholic people from your father, Scotland will burn."
James shook his head. "Rose, I beg you-"
"I am determined, I never back down," Rose said. "I am the daughter of two stubborn and headstrong monarchs."
"I know that and-"
"I will gather some men," she said dismissively, turning to her writing desk. "Perhaps the Swedes will help."
James sighed heavily and sunk down into a seat. "You won't let this go, will you."
Sending a smirk over her shoulder as she grabbed a pen and parchment paper, she said, "No. And if you truly wish to help me and be loyal to my family, you will fight by my side."
"Always."
...
"Wake up, we're going," Darnley said, opening the door to Mary's bedchamber.
"Why don't you just drug me because I will fight you with every strength I have if you dare to touch me," Mary told him.
Darnley grinned. "No, I think you will be compliant."
Mary swallowed hard. "In what way?"
"Since our last little meeting," Darnley began, retrieving a cloak for Mary. "Knox's men infiltrated Fontainebleau. Your sons are dead. Your daughters, unfortunately, managed to escape."
"No!" Mary cried out, shaking her head as tears sprung to her eyes, blurring her vision. "You're lying-"
Chucking a locket her way, he brought boots and another dress from the chest for her. "Don't worry, it was done as they slept. They didn't feel a thing, I didn't let them suffer. After all, they were the sons of the great Mary, Queen of Scots."
Mary stared down at the locket she left with James before she, Francis and Rose left for Elizabeth's funeral. It had dried blood on it and she let out a heartbreaking wail, clutching the item to her chest tightly.
"It had to be done," Darnley said softly. "The Valois line must end. And once your husband is killed within foreign English walls, we will marry whilst I'm still Catholic. Then we will make Scotland and England Protestant."
"Get out," Mary spat, closing her eyes and pressing a kiss on the locket. "Get out!"
"Get dressed. We leave within the hour," Darnley told her before leaving her and locking the door right after.
Shaking, Mary stared at the locket and opened it up. It had the portraits of all of her beloved children: Anne, Rose, James, Joseph, Peter and Caterina. The reasons she breathed and lived. Her heart even ached for John. She hadn't even given him a second thought. Was he okay? Were he and Lola and Kenna and her family safe? Or did Darnley spare her the knowledge of their deaths too? Revelling in the fact that her sons were dead and not letting her into the knowledge of her other friends and relatives?
Her eyes drew over to the blue dress with the Stuart crest on it along with Darnley's branch. She wished she had something to burn it, burn it to ashes and set this castle on fire. But something in her had a change of heart. She eyed the door - she had to play this. If her sons were supposedly dead, her husband would be even more determined to get to France. She had to convince the brave Catholic Scotsmen to fight her cause. She had to find a way to get to the Duke of Albany, a strong Catholic man whose grandfather fought with her own grandfather, the husband to her grandmother who was Elizabeth's father, Henry VIII's younger sister, Margaret Tudor.
The MacDonalds. They were also determined warriors who would never back down from a fight that threatened their religious beliefs. They hated the Reformists with a passion despite Mary's hopes for both Protestant and Catholic to be united. But their disdain would prove valuable.
The Anguses were also another option. They had once brought a second son as a potential husband for one of her daughters before offering a daughter as a bride for one of Mary's sons when her daughters married off to Sweden and Scotland through Lord Lennox.
She will take Scotland back herself. She prayed Francis would have good mind to return to France. Frenchmen never bode well in England. He must leave and protect himself and their children. She will handle the rest somehow. After all, Scotland, England and Ireland are in her reign, it was unfair of her to get her husband to keep sending men after men to fight her cause. Scotland's her problem and she will remind the people who their queen is - her. Her father did not die when she was a babe for this. Her half-brother did not die as a regent in her corner for this. Her other half-brother, the one she barely even knew...
Robert, the 1st Earl of Orkney.
Following her marriage to Francis, she had by proxy, knighted her eldest half-brother as Sir Robert Stewart of Strathdon in order to bridge relations between them. He had been quiet since then, not causing her as much grief as James did. He'd testified in a trial when Clan Hamilton members were charged with treason against Mary under the instructions of her mother, Marie de Guise long ago. He was a decent man, only wished for a quiet land in Orkney.
But now was time to awaken his love and loyalty for her, his half-sister. She needed all the help she could have and he was the last sibling she had left.
She grabbed the dress to put it on.
