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Guest (1) [chapter 27]: Glad to be back! Ooh, good idea! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Mary groaned when she felt a hand tug at her arm. Her eyes opened slowly and she rolled over to see her daughters standing there with their teddies in their arms. She jumped when she heard the thunderstorm and she immediately realised why her girls were looking so worried and tired.

"Mama... The storm is scary," Anne said in an effort to whisper so she didn't wake Francis up. It was too late and he sat up, waving the girls over to get on the bed.

"Thank you, Papa," Rose said quietly, crawling over Mary's legs first.

Mary sighed. "Be careful of Mama's stomach," she told them, helping Anne up once Rose was on.

Francis quickly settled the girls, pulling the covers over their frames as they slept in the middle of them. He then presses kisses onto their heads and soon fell back asleep, his arm slung over Rose's middle as Anne curled up into Mary's back.

Mary felt incomplete though and got out of bed, slipping her night shoes on and heading out of the bedchamber. She gave the guards amused smiles, knowing they noticed the two pairs of little feet making their way into their bedchamber. She paid them some coin for the troubles despite knowing they found the situation amusing than troublesome.

Her daughters did have a tendency to sneak out of their rooms.

Finally getting into her son's nursery, she dismissed the governess and took James into her arms, planting a kiss to the boy's head.

"Come on, my sweet. Papa and your sisters are waiting for us," she said softly, making her way back out of the nursery and into her own bedchamber she shared with her husband.

She slipped back into the bed, putting James between his older sisters and Francis slowly opened his eyes, noticing the new warmth in the bed. She gave him a meek smile, and he responded with a wink, sitting up to kiss a babbling James on the head before finally once again, falling back into a deep slumber.

"Mama?" Rose whispered. "Can you read us a story?"

Mary tutted. It was late, but the storm was raging on. The lightning struck and the thunder crackled, making James start to wail. She sat up, bringing her son into her chest as Francis awoke, letting the girls curl into both of his sides.

"Okay," Mary replied. "Here is a story about Fran and Marie, a king and a princess."

Once she settled James down, his wails dying out, she closed her eyes and began to tell them the age-old story she was used to. The story that had been adapted and changed through time, the same story her husband marvellously surprised her with.

When she was halfway through the story, the window burst open and Francis bit back a curse. He slipped out of his daughters' grips and headed over to the window, checking the latch.

"It's broken," he said, closing the window and trying to hold it down.

The window reopened the second he let go to try and find something to hold it down and the cold, wet air hit him. He shivered, closing the window down as it began blowing out the candles.

"We may need to change bedchambers," he told his wife.

Mary winced. "Anne's bedchamber, it is."

Finally settled in a warmer, lighter bedchamber - Anne's - Mary continued on with her story. She left out the overly emotional bits, not wanting her daughters to be scarred by romance too much and increased the happy parts.

"Mama, will I find a king who will love me like Papa loves you?" Anne asked her mother.

Mary smiled. "Anne, you will find a man or a boy who will adore you and treat you better. You and your sister will find loves who are better than your father and you know what? Your father is not perfect, but he is almost close to it so-"

"Whoever we find will be perfect?" Rose asked, eyes wide.

Francis chuckled. "Yes, a thousand times more perfect."

"And your love story will be better than ours," Mary said, meeting her husband's warm eyes. "In many ways." They didn't need to know about the prophecy drama and their uncle in the mix of things.

"Goodnight, Mama and Papa. Thank you for a wonderful story!" Rose told them.

"I wanted to say that!" Anne told her, glaring at her.

"Girls..." Francis warned. "You will wake your brother up and you both can say 'goodnight' and 'thank you'." He eyed Anne.

Anne nodded meekly. "Thank you and goodnight..."

"Now close your eyes and sleep."

When they were sure that all three children were in deep slumbers, Mary reached her hand across them which Francis quickly held. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers back.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," Francis whispered back.

Then they too fell asleep.

...

"Ahhhh-tchoo!"

Mary jolted awake and so did her three children, all turning to their left to see Francis dig his face into his pillow. Rose was the first one to cuddle up to him, his hand on her head.

"Papa, are you sick?" Anne asked fearfully.

Francis groaned. "Of course, not my-atchoo!"

Mary quickly got out of bed, heading to the other side to pull her husband onto his back. She checked his head and spotted how red his nose and cheeks now were.

"It must have been coming on for a few days. The weather has been off and on and with the storm last night..." She trailed off, feeling that he had a fever. "Oh, my love."

"I'm fine," Francis said groggily. "If I can just get out of bed and walk it off... Bash and I have matters to..." His face paused and his eyes closed before, "Atchoo!"

"No!" Mary cried out. "You are staying in bed and that is final! I will let Bash know that you are indisposed."

Francis writhed in the bed, Anne quickly squealing and jumping off. He could tell that one daughter didn't mind the risk of becoming ill from what he had. But then he couldn't be selfish.

"Take the children out. They are susceptible," he told his wife.

Mary gasped and nodded, lifting James into her arms before pulling Rose off her father. "Come along, children. I will see if Auntie Kenna is awake so you can spend time with her, Ana and Robin."

She hurried the girls off in front of her, disregarding that she was in her nightdress. But she was a queen and no help will talk about her lack of appropriate clothing for the day.

Mary found Kenna, Bash and their children in the conservatory with the Duke watching over them proudly. His eyes met her worried ones and he stood up, taking James into his arms.

"M-Mary, what is it?" Robert asked.

Mary breathed heavily. "Francis is unwell. He's come down with the cold," she explained, watching Bash stand up. "I had to get the children out of there before they could catch it."

"Oh, dear," Kenna said. "We will look after the children, do not worry."

Mary gave her a grateful nod, turning to Bash. "You will have to attend to these matters alone. If you need help, I am sure my uncle can provide it."

"Of course," Bash replied. "Wish my brother well for me. I will check on him later."

Mary nodded and left, heading back upstairs into Anne's bedchamber. She found her husband fast asleep and smiled at how childlike and peaceful he looked. That was until he coughed, letting out a huge pile of disgusting phlegm in his hand and her nose upturned.

"Do you... Do you still love me when I'm like this?" Francis asked, laughing. His voice was thick with what was presumed to be phlegm and God knew what and Mary stopped herself from crinkling her nose.

"Yes, surprisingly," she replied teasingly. "As much as I'd love to care for you-"

"The baby," Francis finished for her, understanding about her apprehension. "Come for me when I am less contagious."

Mary sighed sadly, taking one last look at him before calling for the doctor and nurse. She really wanted to stay but she couldn't risk their unborn child's life. If Catherine were here, she would have locked Mary in confinement until everyone was sure that the illness was killed and stopped.

Small mercies that Catherine left before they arrived from Linlithgow Palace.

"You know what?" She asked, grabbing a scarf to cover her face. "I will stay."

"Thank you, but I believe you should get me a doctor first," her husband said, chuckling.

"Oh, yes!"

...

"Oh, God... Mary, that feels so good."

Mary pressed deeper into the bottom of his foot, massaging it and rubbing it with oils. She smiled beneath the scarf at her husband's pleasure at being massaged.

"How about if I do..." She pressed even deeper, using her left hand to collect some more essential oil before rubbing it in. "This?"

Francis rolled his head back, covering his eyes to shield the light away. "Even better. I can feel the oil relieving my blocked nose."

Mary chuckled at his reaction. "I will get you more lavender water to breathe in with some eucalyptus flower."

"And can you get me something for my throat?" Francis all but whined.

Mary smirked. "Yes, you big baby."

"I resent that."

"I spoke to Kenna about this," Mary said.

"Of course, you did," Francis muttered lightly. "Well, what did she say?"

Mary grinned. "She said that she was glad Bash has a strong immune system He's never fallen ill!"

"That's a lie."

"Oh?"

Francis opened his eyes to look at her. "I was seven and he was ten. He was the biggest baby of them all, moaning and whinging. He snapped at me a few times and got in trouble, but then Father bought him a horse and suddenly, he was all better. He was definitely Henry's favourite."

Mary let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "What about you?"

"I've got a strong heart in me. I'm always well," Francis said to her. "Except for the time I had that chest infection. My mother fretted for weeks until it was gone."

"My darling big baby," Mary teased him, kissing his toes.

He wriggled them in reply. "That tickles."

"Does it now?"

"Mary!"

"Okay, I'll stop," she said, giggling before placing a kiss on his pinky toe.

"Mary!" Her husband cried out, letting out chesty laughter.

Mary gasped. "I shouldn't do that, I'm sorry! You'll cough to death or something."

"Exactly!" Was his defiant reply, his laughter dying down. "You're too good for me, Mary..."

Mary blushed, washing her hands in the water bowl. "I doubt that. You do so much for me and I barely can look after you when you become sick."

"Don't be silly, wife. You are enough for me," Francis told her. "Can I have that lavender water now?"

The queen nodded and stood up, heading to the dining table. She collected the bowl and a few more cloth to dab at his head. By the time she reached the bed, she could hear soft snores coming from her husband as he slept.

Smiling fondly, she rubbed his head and brushed his locks away from his eyes before pulling the covers to his waist. She would have pulled them further up, but he would be too hot and then the process of his fever would begin.

Just in case, she left the water on the nightstand, placed a few more blankets on the bed and put a chamber pot on the ground. She never knew if he'd vomit or not as their daughter did when she was ill.

"I love you, Francis," she whispered, pressing two fingers to her covered lips and waving it his way.

Francis changed his position on the bed, tiredly replying, "I love you too, Mary..."