Quick thing, taking lots of inspiration from the show. Decided to binge-watch Frary and Kennash moments during this stressful time of exams in my life, haha. Decisions weren't made lightly and found myself redoing this chapter in particular. Taking inspiration from the end of season one with twists and spins of my own.


By early December, Mary was knocked back with the news of her mother's hospitalisation. Marie had been staying at her ancestral home and it had taken five hours until Mary found out with her mother insisting not to bother the pregnant Dauphine.

"She's not been well since October when we returned from our honeymoon," she told Francis, slipping her trenchcoat on. "I'm really worried."

"Don't be-"

"I am though," she said, coming over to place her hands on his shoulders. "I just have a pit of anxiety in my stomach."

"Your mother is one of the strongest people we know," Francis said, cupping her cheeks. "I'm sure she's fine. It's probably just an upset stomach or something."

Mary gave him a look. "No one goes to the hospital over an upset stomach, Francis."

"Mary, you can't be stressed out," he replied. "Think about the baby."

"I am thinking about the baby," she told him. "And how its grandmother could be seriously sick."

"Positive thoughts, Mary," Francis replied. "Your birthing coach said only positive thoughts."

Mary scowled. "Perhaps I should fire her. All this New Age stuff is starting to bother me. I just want to be pregnant in peace."

"You're carrying the second in line to the French throne, nobody's leaving you in peace," Francis said lightly. "But if you seriously need a break from everything, don't hesitate to tell people to mind their own business or to simply fuck off."

She chuckled and nodded. "Fair enough. Although I don't want to be known as the bitchy, little princess. Claude plays that role perfectly already."

"I do hope that one day you'll all get along."

"It's not me-"

"It's them," Francis finished for her before kissing her. "Michel's waiting downstairs for you. Remember, positive thoughts."

"Shut up," Mary said, leaving his arms but she left with a smile on her face regardless.

...

"Who called you?"

"Uncle Christian," Mary told her mother disapprovingly. "You look terrible!"

Marie scowled. "Mary, dear..."

"Just tell me what's going on with you!"

"You're pregnant, think-"

"I will be less stressed out if I knew what was making my mother hospitalised," Mary cut her off angrily. "Or do I need to abuse my title in order to get answers?"

Marie smirked. "They have known me far longer than they have known you, Mary."

Mary sighed, taking a seat. "Mama... Tell me, please."

Marie's eyes watered and she took her daughter's hand gently. "I didn't want to hurt you, ma chère."

"I want to be there for you, just let me..." Mary begged her. "You're all I've got."

Marie let out a sob and cupped Mary's cheek. "I'm not going to be around for much longer, it's terminal."

Mary froze. Her heart, it felt like it was breaking into a million pieces as tears sprung to her eyes. She took her mother's hand from her cheek and placed it onto her small bump.

"You can't die, Maman," she croaked out. "You'll never get to see the baby. There must be something."

"There isn't," Marie said softly. "But I do want to make the most out of the time I have left with you."

Mary swallowed hard. "Remember the funfair you always took me to, every Spring when I was little?"

"I'll never forget," Marie replied. "We took Francis the year after you met."

"I found out that they've opened up a winter fayre instead when Francis and I were considering places to go on our date nights. We can go there," Mary suggested. "In fact, let's go right now."

Marie checked the clock on the wall. "Okay," she agreed. "Let's go."

...

It was cold in France, the chill biting at Mary's porcelain cheeks. She had a wool hat on as her mother had her scarf covering her face from the nose down and a black beret on.

The security team were mostly inconspicuous as Mary linked her arm with her mother's and they walked around the fayre, watching the bustle and hustle around them. Children ran around, they were hyper on sugary snacks and drinks, and the adults played games in hopes of winning the biggest prizes for their dates or loved ones.

Mary then decided that she'll bring her own child here one day, with Francis, the perfect, little family.

"Mary, promise me you won't dwell," Marie told her, pulling her scarf a little down to talk to her daughter.

Mary nodded. "I promise," she whispered with a sigh. "Should we attempt to get that giant Pikachu toy?"

"What will you do with that?" Marie asked with a laugh as they headed to the game stall.

"Donate it to the children's care home," Mary said easily. "We should do a few and see what we can get."

Marie beamed. "A wonderful choice, Dauphine."

"Maman, are you proud of me?"

Marie stopped and turned to cup Mary's cheeks. "So, so proud. In fact, I am so proud of you that I put all the other mothers to shame."

Mary blinked her tears away. "I wish we had more time together."

"I do too," Marie whispered, kissing Mary's forehead.

Mary sniffled. "Christmas is twenty days away, can you try and hold on until then?"

Marie shrugged. "I don't want to make any promises but I do hope to spend one last Christmas with you."

Mary blushed. "I pray that is the case," she whispered before hugging her mother tightly. "Now, let's go and win those prizes."

...

It was midnight when Mary returned to Versailles, her heart heavy and broken as she slipped her coat off and went to sit on the bay window. She stared at the sky above, seeing the stars sparkle and twinkle. She wondered if her mother was going to be one soon, people normally saying that they saw their dead loved ones as the brightest stars in their eyes.

"Mary, you're back," Francis groggily said, getting out of the bed to sit in front of her, his back against the wall and feet touching hers as he brought his knees up to his chest to accommodate them both.

"It's terminal," she said softly. "We had a great time today."

Francis looked over at the giant plushie and the other cuddly toys surrounding it. "I can tell... Mary, I'm so sorry."

"It's... It's fine," Mary replied, giving him a small smile. "Everything happens for a reason."

"Are you alright?"

Mary shrugged. "I don't know. It's like one thing and another since we arrived in France. The horrible press, your mother, your sisters, Kenna and your father, and now this. My mother's declining health."

"Mary-"

"I've always been taught to go through life with a thick skin of armour around me. To be wary of those who come for me," she began. "I grew up with my mother who played the role of mother and father. She saw me at every sports event, was there to applaud me at every certificate ceremony, even on her busiest days, she was there for me and made sure that all my birthdays were the best. It got to the point I was used to it being her and me against the world. Now I may have a new family, but I will never forget the sacrifices she made for me."

Francis took her hands and kissed them softly. "We could get a second opinion-"

"It's too late," Mary said with a sad smile. "But thanks for thinking about it. For being here for me."

"How about I talk to Monsieur Nostradamus about getting a whole front page and four pages on your mother's life and successes?" He asked.

Mary blushed. "A giant newspaper obituary? That's not embarrassing at all!"

He chuckled. "I want everyone to know that Marie de Guise made such a beautiful, wonderful, strong, talented woman called Mary Stuart. And one day, she will be the best queen France ever had."

Mary let out a sob and pulled his knees apart to kneel between them so his arms could wrap around her waist and her own could wrap around his neck. She pressed a long kiss on his lips and rested her forehead against his, whispering, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," he replied, wanting to press a hand against her bump but they were too exposed by the windows. Anyone could be watching.

"I'm tired," she whispered. "Pet me to sleep?"

"Of course, my love."

...

Even though it was midnight, the night wasn't over for Bash and Kenna. With Francis busy and Mary spending time with her mother, Lola and Remy had ended the night two hours ago and Greer and Leith not that long ago. Feeling like a third-wheel, Julien excused himself to go home ten minutes ago.

For a couple, they didn't really look like one. At least, not in public. Their relationship was still new, verging on three months. It felt normal, to Bash at least. Most of his relationships were based on sex, that's why he wanted something new and different. He didn't want to play the same song over and over again, but with Kenna, he could have the sex and even more.

Kenna shivered and he took his scarf off and wrapped it around her neck before she could refuse. He did tell her to wrap up warm, but she was insistent that she was a Scottish girl, built for the blizzards and snowy Scotland Winters.

It wasn't snowing but there was a noticeable drop in temperature. Kenna would just have to get used to it. This was going to be her home now, no more barefooted visits to the park to play her guitar or perform impromptu concerts with alcohol. She'd be surrounded by security guards and bodyguards for the rest of her life.

"This is awkward," she said after a long while of silence.

They were fine at home, but even then it was small smiles, touches and soft kisses. They barely spoke full conversations but did have sex frequently when he wasn't busy or she wasn't planning their wedding.

"It is, isn't it?" Bash replied with a small smile. "It's almost been three months and I don't even know your favourite colour."

Kenna blushed. "Why don't you guess?"

Bash looked at her briefly as they walked, their shadows ever-present. "Purple. You're obsessed with the colour. Also, it's the colour of the first dress I ever saw you in. All eyes were on you, envious and in awe."

"I know," she said, giggling when he pulled a face. "You're right."

"Go on, guess mine."

Kenna shrugged. "Uh, green?"

"No."

"Red?"

"Nope."

She grinned. "Is it some specific shade of blue?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Navy blue."

"Close enough," he replied. "I guess you can call it navy."

She sighed in relief. "Glad we did that."

"Same here."

As they walked, there were a group of drunk men singing and coming their way. They politely smiled when they passed them by, some making jeers at Kenna's way. She squealed when one groped her on the arse and Bash turned around to confront him.

"It's fine!" Kenna said, pressing her hands against his chest to coax him away from the drunk man. "I'm used to it - I'm fine."

Bash set his jaw as the men raised their hands up in defence before laughing and walking away. He turned back to Kenna, inspecting her for any injuries even though she clearly was fine. "You shouldn't be. If anyone touched my sisters like that I'd wring their necks."

"Well, I'm lucky I'm not your sister-"

"The same goes for my fiancée," he cut her off, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I am," she assured him. "Especially when I have my big, strong husband-to-be by my side." She fixed the collar of his coat a little and kissed him softly. "I'm fine. Let's go home."

Bash nodded and offered her his arm which she took willingly. As they continued to walk on, he sent a quick text on his phone and put it back in his pocket. It made Kenna wonder what it was about but she didn't overstep her boundaries by being too inquisitive.

"So, what do you think about the new arrival to the family?" Kenna asked him.

"The last baby we had in the family was Louis so it's a breath of fresh air," he replied. "Everyone's going to be all over it when it arrives that Francis and Mary will barely have to lift a finger."

Kenna giggled. "So true. Their baby will be so gorgeous..." She tightened her grip on his arm a little. "How soon should we start trying?"

He shrugged. "Whenever you want."

"It is a joint decision."

"It's your body," Bash replied. "And the other day you were complaining all day about how you had to return six dresses back because you gained some weight."

Kenna blushed. "I... was?"

"You were."

"I'm sorry you had to see that side of me. I may be spoilt, but I try not to let it show," she said softly. "I sometimes impulse buy. Like things that are a smaller size so I have a goal to achieve."

Bash frowned. "Why do you do that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I've been doing that since I bought my first ever dress by myself. My parents gave me a card at fourteen and I went crazy with it."

"Do you think you might have a problem with your body image?"

Kenna scoffed lightly. "Me? Have you met me?"

"I have and I've noticed a few things about you," he said.

"Like what?" She asked, laughing nervously.

"No, I won't say," Bash told her gently.

Kenna turned to him. "You don't have to worry about offending me."

"It's not that," he replied. "It's just that I don't want to psychoanalyse you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Fine, I'll come out with it."

"Please do," she told him, her smile disappearing.

"Do you have an eating disorder?"

Kenna blinked for a few beats before shaking her head. "I've been losing weight for the wedding, Sebastian. We want to look good in the photos, don't we?"

Bash stopped them, letting go of her. "Nobody's noticed, have they?"

She smiled and it reminded Bash of something fake, something plastic. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It probably started when Catherine kidnapped you because I noticed then - you barely ate," he said. "PTSD works in different ways. But this may stem from even before you arrived in France. You hide your pain behind shopping, sex, diamonds and other things."

Kenna rolled her eyes and walked on, a sour taste in her mouth. "You couldn't be further from the truth, Sebastian."

He caught up with her. "Kenna, if there's something wrong with you, shouldn't you want to get better or fix it?"

"I don't need fixing," she snapped. "But thanks for your concern."

"Don't get upset."

"No," she said firmly. "I'm not upset. Why would I be?"

Bash sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she said shakily before slipping an arm around his waist.

Bash returned the gesture, his arm over her shoulders as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

She shook her head, her eyes stinging with tears. "This is the last thing I need. Aunt Marie's ill, I'm planning a full arse royal wedding mostly by myself, I'm tired all the time and I barely even know the man I'm marrying."

"Mary's mother's sick?"

Kenna nodded sadly. "I only said it as a joke - the thing about a wedding, a death and a baby. But it's coming to pass and it's because I can't shut my big mouth up. I always jinx everything."

"I'm sure things were just a coincidence," Bash said. "Mind you, my maternal side is superstitious so you might want to hold back at times."

She chuckled. "I'll take that into consideration," she said. "Olivia came around the other day."

Bash tensed up. "How does she know where we live?"

"Oh, not to the house. To the townhouse," she said. "She seemed very familiar with it."

"Well, she might be the first woman to..."

"I know - Valentine's party and everything," Kenna told him. "But that's not what's bothering me."

She retrieved her phone from her bag and unlocked it, heading to her photo gallery and showing him a picture. She didn't seem upset when Bash studied it before turning to her but she gave him a little smile.

"I know she's a little cuckoo, your sisters vouched for that one," she told him. "Why didn't you tell me she forced herself onto you?"

"You would have believed me?"

"I'm believing you, aren't I?"

"Thanks for your faith in me," Bash replied.

Kenna shrugged. "You're welcome. I hope we can be trusting of each other. We can tell each other things."

"Everything?"

Kenna knew that was coming. "Eighteen days until we get married. I will tell you between now and then. But now? I'm not ready."

"I'll hold you to that."

"I never break a promise, Sebastian."

"We'll see, Mckenna."

...

Mary turned in surprise at the sound of Henry calling her. She walked up to him and curtseyed but he quickly reached out to stop her, emitting glances from a few staff.

"Don't do that on my account," he told her, linking their arms and patting the back of her hand as they walked away from earshot. "How are you feeling?"

"The morning sickness is getting better," she replied. "Why are you here at Versailles?"

Henry stopped them and turned to face her. "Have you read this morning's news article?"

"From the French Times?" Mary asked, slightly worried.

"No. The 'Daily French' newspaper," Henry replied with a heavy sigh. "Someone leaked the baby news."

Mary froze. "Who?"

"I don't know, I have people on that," he said. "But you and Francis need to own the narrative. A press conference in front of Fontainebleau should do it."

Mary sighed. "I was meant to go dress hunting with Kenna today. To take my mind off my mother's hospitalisation."

"I'm truly sorry, Mary. Francis is already at Fontainebleau - he had matters to attend to with one of his outreach projects from Church. I will have Narcisse write up a speech, everything will be fine."

Mary blinked tears away, cursing her hormones for making her so emotional. At least they had all of these weeks in peace. They hadn't even reached thirteen weeks yet although that was pressing too close to the wedding. Perhaps, now was a better choice.

"Do I need to dress for the occasion?" She asked. She had been wearing A-line dresses, not wanting anyone to study her bump with magnifying glasses.

"Catherine suggested something blue. Along the lines of the French flag," he said. "Something that accents your bump and when you enter, be at one with it. Cradle it lovingly, smile brightly as if your life is dedicated to this little growing human being."

"That's the easy part," Mary said lightly.

Henry sighed. "I know you're worried about Marie and this is the last thing you need but things will get easier. At least all the drama has stopped and my wife has been put in her place."

She gave him a wry smile. "What do you remember about my father?"

Henry smiled fondly. "He was one of the best men I knew," he said honestly. "Seeing you grow, I know he would have been proud. You're a splendid young woman, Mary and you put all the other young women to shame. I know that your father is looking out for you. God works in mysterious ways."

"If Francis and I have a son, do you mind if we name him after my father?" She asked shyly. "We were going to ask but we didn't want to be rude so Francis told me to hold off."

Henry laughed. "A name is just a name at the end of the day but one needs a strong name if they will be the future monarch of a big country," he told her. "James is a very strong name and it is the name of a man who saved my life many times when we were young men. King James sounds very fitting, doesn't it?"

Mary nodded with a small smile. "It does," she whispered.

"Just for the love of God, do not name the child after Catherine if it's a girl," he told her. "Her ego is big enough already. Save that for your seventh child at least. I am very glad we've come a long way from naming every child under the sun the same name."

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Wise advice," she said. "Thank you for coming to tell me the news personally. You best get back to Fontainebleau."

"I will," he said, about to leave. "Quick thing."

"Yes?"

"If you were to become Queen Consort today, what will you do?"

Mary frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"Answer the question, please," Henry said.

Mary smiled a little. "I will support Francis the best I can. My duty will be to him first and then France."

"Good answer," Henry replied. "A man's success has a lot to do with the kind of woman he chooses to have in his life." He gave her a warm smile before he finally left, leaving Mary standing there in confusion.

She shook her head to herself and headed upstairs to the King's State Apartments. She jumped when she saw Clarissa waiting for her, dressed in a security guard's get up.

"Hi," she greeted the other woman. "It's been a while since I saw you."

Clarissa smiled. "I was with relatives. I got transferred to Versailles."

"Can we speak inside?"

"Of course, Your Highness," Clarissa replied.

When they were settled in the living room, Mary poured them both some tea and offered Clarissa biscuits to which she rejected politely.

"You called for me?" Clarissa asked.

Mary nodded. "I was wondering where you were when Francis and I returned."

"My family hadn't seen me in a while. I was enjoying my break from the Royal Family and their complicated lives," Clarissa replied. "Why-"

"I know who you are. Who you really are."

Clarissa nodded. "I see," she said, sipping her tea. "Will you tell Francis?"

"Didn't you want to tell him yourself?"

Clarissa paused for a bit. "Yes, but now is not the time."

"Why not?"

"I'm leaving the first week of January. I've joined the French Royal Navy."

"In your father's footsteps," Mary said.

Clarissa nodded at her response. "It's a fitting idea. A smart one."

"Francis deserves to know who you are," Mary argued gently. "You've already established a relationship-"

"The King knows who I am," Clarissa stated. "And he's allowed me to live with them in peace. But now, I've overstayed my welcome. My mother is a complicated woman, but she can't protect me from what may come. I need to go before shit hits the fan."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Clarissa said. "Anything, I guess. Anything that can reveal to people about who I am. I need to leave before then. An outsider to the Royal Family will be stripped bare and judged harshly. It doesn't even matter who you are, but they will get to you and use the people you love against you. Be careful Mary."

Mary frowned deeply. "I will."

Clarissa sighed heavily. "I fear that Catherine may not have stopped her reign of terror. Watch your back."

"I will," Mary replied. She may be carrying the future heir to the throne but Catherine could still get to Mary and her friends if they stepped one foot out of line.

She will never let her guard down.

...

Mary tried not to blink too much as the flashing lights were on them from cameras. She felt Francis grip her hand gently as they walked up to the podium as the reporters gathered in front of the gates.

There were guards on each side, even some police presence but everyone was calm, excited and happy more than threatening or invaders of space. It was just extra precaution. Nobody wanted anything to happen to France's little heir.

"Thank you for coming, everyone," Francis said, sending her a quick encouraging smile. "Almost twelve weeks ago, I made the beautiful woman beside me, my wife. Recently, she became more than just my wife. I stand here, beside her and in the presence of my parents, King Henry and Queen Catherine to announce that the Duchess of Anjou and I will be parents next Summer."

Everyone applauded and some swooned when Mary began to rub her growing bump, making sure that all camera angles got the Duchess of Anjou and future heir to the throne on show. This was front cover news, this could cover the whole next two or four pages.

"We are very excited," Mary began. "It is a new start for the Dauphin and I and we are eternally grateful for all the support we have been receiving from our family, friends and most of all you, the public. I know that many women out there could tell, mothers always had that intuition that I hope to hone one day when I become a mother to our baby. I am blessed to have such role models as my mother, Duchess Marie de Guise and my mother-in-law, Queen Catherine to help guide me and mould me into a wonderful mother this baby deserves."

"We thank you all for your never-ending support and love for us and we cannot wait to have you all join us on our journey to becoming parents," Francis said. "Unfortunately, we do not have time to answer any questions but I can clearly say that both mother and baby are doing swimmingly well."

Mary giggled and beamed when Francis placed a loving hand on her bump. The media were eating it up but neither of them cared as she stared into his eyes happily. Their moment may have been shared but right now, Mary felt as if this whole world just contained her, Francis and their unborn child. They were in their own little bubble and it was burst when Henry came over to thank everyone for their patience and gathering so soon before having them ushered back into Fontainebleau to return home to Versailles.

"That was wonderful," Henry said as he was seeing them off to their car. He turned to Francis. "Mary's getting better at this than we did at our first announcements."

Francis grinned at his wife. "She's a natural."

"Never let her go," Henry told his son before kissing his cheek and Mary's hand. "Adieu."

He headed back inside, leaving Mary to kiss Francis softly.

"I'm kind of relieved that we don't have to hide our child anymore," she whispered.

"Same," he replied. "It hurts not being able to rub them in public. You look beautiful, by the way, Blue really suits you."

"You say that for any colour I wear!"

"Maybe it's because I can see our child growing so clearly now," he said, bending down to press a kiss against her tummy. "I did say pregnant women turned me on."

"I hope you only refer to me?"

Francis chuckled, coming back up to meet her lips for a kiss. "Of course, mon trésor."

"Should I be wary?" Mary asked, laughing.

"No..."

"Francis!"

"I only have eyes for one pregnant woman," he said, chuckling as she kissed him. "You."

...

That evening, Mary had a surprise in the form of a majordomo. Apparently, Versailles had wings rented out but Mary and Francis 'owned' seventy-five per cent of the chateau.

"Marc Jones?" Mary repeated, reading his name from his dossier file. "English?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Specifically, French-English," he said. "The King thought it would be fitting to start you early on running a household."

Mary blushed. "I thought things ran itself," she mumbled to herself mostly. "I see."

Jones chuckled. "The dinner menus, the wine lists, the flower arrangements. That sort of thing. Versailles is your little kingdom, for now, practice makes perfect."

"Before I help run a whole damn country?" Mary asked lightly.

"Well, if you put it that way," Jones replied with a smile. "I am here to make your life easier. You call the shots, I perform them and run things on your behalf but Your Highness gets the final say."

"Not Francis?" Mary asked coyly, flicking through the dossier.

Jones grinned wryly. "Behind every great man is a great woman."

"Good answer," Mary said, giggling. "What is your opinion of me?"

Jones faltered in confusion. "I'm sorry, Ma'am?"

"What do you, Mr Jones, think about me?"

"I think you are a talented, caring young woman," the older man replied.

"We're going to be working together on a day-to-day basis," Mary began, throwing the dossier onto the table between them. "I have no room for people who are opinionated against me."

Jones nodded in understanding. "I see," he replied. "Well, I see a future queen, Your Highness. I have done my own research on you. One of the tops of your classes, very sporty and academically clever, nurturing, friendly, elegant and you keep things classy. I can't say the same for one of your friends, regarding 'class'."

"You researched my friends?"

"I have to know who we're letting into your household," Jones replied.

Mary clicked her tongue. "Well, I'd rather you not judge my friends like a book by its cover," was her reply. "You're hired."

"I was already hired," Jones said, amused.

Mary shrugged. "Well, didn't you say that I had the final say?"

Jones was stunned. "I... I did, indeed, Your Highness."

Mary chuckled, holding her hand out to him. "Well, welcome aboard."

"Thank you," he replied, shaking it.

"Does this mean that you work exclusively for me?" Mary asked.

Jones nodded. "Ultimately, I follow your orders but should His Majesty require me to, I will follow his instructions."

"Not the Queen's?"

"Not the Queen's," Jones affirmed. "The King believed someone of your background should be fitting. Half-French, half-English. Well, British, shall I put it?"

Mary nodded. "Say, if the Queen came and put something suspicious in my food or drink, you would be obliged to tell me?"

"Of course!" Jones said. "Especially as you're carrying the second in line to the throne. Harmful or not, I serve you."

Mary beamed happily. "Wonderful. Shall we get started on the dinner menus? I believe it's time for a change."

"May I suggest adding more Scottish cuisine to the menu?"

"Jones?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I believe you and I are going to get along very well," Mary told him, nodding approvingly.

It had been eighty-one days since she became the Dauphine of France and finally, things were being changed to accommodate her. It was a huge weight off her shoulders, the feeling of homesickness arising after her mother's illness confession.

Despite being an orphan in the near future, things were looking up.