Replies to reviews:
Guest (1) [chapter 41]: We are working towards that ;)
elder 441 [chapter 41]: We're working to that ;) You're welcome!
BlerBlerBler [chapter 41]: I had written a long chapter involving the politics, but then I went through and it wasn't as structured as I needed it to be so I ended up cutting it out. I didn't really want to focus on the bad, but the good and the healing. Mary doesn't deserve to be shut out from society ;(
Greyandmint [chapter 41]: Same here ;(
Guest (2) [chapter 41]: Yeah, I'm also conflicted about Mary. I love her but she did make her bed as someone else said wisely. Mary is working towards making her marriage better and that will be shown in the next chapter, not this one. Yes, Francis's little girls are so impatient, haha. I love the three of them and can't wait until James is a little older to join in.
Quick thing, I am not entirely happy with how this chapter is but I had to give you guys something ;). I will try and make the next chapter better!
"I thought you and Mary weren't on speaking terms?"
Francis stopped walking and turned to face Bash. "We aren't."
"Then why did you ask the guards to keep you updated on her movements?" Bash asked him. "That's a bit... controlling?"
"I'm curious."
"About what? Whether the next Condé is around the corner? Or me, for that matter," Bash replied, shrugging slightly. "Just talk to her. I don't know why you are being so stubborn - she's your wife."
Francis sighed. "A good king and a bad husband or a bad king and a good husband?"
"I don't know," Bash said.
"You did. And you told me," Francis told him.
"I was just going by what my king told me," was Bash's reply. "I do not have an answer for you now."
Francis gave him a look. "You and Kenna have argued many times over this. Your duties to me and not her. So, what have you learnt from that?"
"I have learnt that my wife is important to me and I will do anything to make her happy and remain so," Bash replied. "Even if it means going to live in her home country for the rest of my life. I guess it's more haggis for me."
"So you chose to be a good husband and a bad King's Deputy?" Francis asked. "Thanks."
Bash chuckled. "I am one man, but I take all of my roles seriously. Honestly, make things right with Mary. She's a stranger in her own home and that isn't right. Also, it's for my own personal gain as I am quite tired of my wife leaving our bed for your wife's."
"Oh? Is someone feeling selfish today?" Francis teased him.
"Kenna is worried about Mary. We both are. If we do leave for Scotland, Mary will have no one to support her and comfort her. Roles her husband should be doing. I know what we went through will never be easy to grasp nor compensate, but at the end of the day, you have five children and you have had years of marriage and happiness. Don't lose that."
Francis nodded, bowing his head slightly. "I wouldn't know where to start."
"I would suggest taking some time away to sort out your marriage, but France has just got you back-"
"And now, I have to be a good king," Francis whined. "Bash, you are pulling me in both directions! There is no common ground in this issue."
Bash raised his hands. "I am not a king. I am just a commoner, it's easy for me to put down one duty in favour of the other. I shared my duties to you with Leith for my wife."
"Sebastian?"
"Yes?"
"You are a terrible advisor," Francis said, shaking his head. "You're lucky you are my brother."
Bash smiled. "Half-brother," he corrected Francis. "But admit it, I am helping you make a decision on your own right?"
Francis was stunned. That son of a... "I need to find Mary-"
"Your Majesty, my lord!" Nostradamus called them, running over to them.
"Nostradamus, what is it?" Francis asked in alarm.
"Is it one of the children?" Bash asked.
"Is it Mary?"
Nostradamus shook his head with wide eyes. "It's the plague. It has returned."
...
Francis couldn't believe it. He was back on his throne, but not without a major incoming incident. The last time the plague happened, he had gone to retrieve Lola and his eldest child. Now, he and his wife were not on speaking terms after five children and years of marriage.
"I have the children together in the nursery," Bash announced, entering the offices. "Kenna is with them. No one can find Mary."
"Mary..." Francis breathed out in shock. "Have the guards searched everywhere?"
Bash nodded. "Yes. Her horse was still here and all of them are accounted for except the horses for the patrol party. She must still be at the castle, but where we do not know."
"Find her, Bash. Bring her to the children and let me know when you hear any word from her," Francis ordered.
"I will."
"And Bash?"
"Yes?"
"If anything happens... Thank you for everything. For remaining by my side, for being my support. For being my brother," Francis told him. "Without you, I wouldn't be able to do most things as my duties to both the kingdom and my marriage. I am glad that you were my hero growing up."
Bash blinked in surprise. "There are only three years between us. Surely, I wasn't your inspiration?"
"Bash, you've experienced things that I couldn't. You are both one of the people and a nobleman. You give me an insight into a world that I was forbidden to touch," Francis explained. "You did things so I didn't do them. You've killed and you've lied for me. Even when we argue, you save my life. Even when we wish hell and death and bitter words to each other, you are still there for me."
Francis held up a letter and sighed heavily. He opened it up and smiled at its contents before holding it out for Bash. He also got a pen and offered that too with his other hand.
"I need you to sign this."
Bash eyed his hands. "What is it? Am I signing my soul away?"
Francis chuckled, shaking his head. "No. You are signing your future and your children's futures. And even your grandchildren's and your descendants below them."
"F-Francis, what is it?"
"A plea from me?" Francis whispered, swallowing hard. "To stay?"
"I-I can't sign that without Kenna's permission."
"Oh, she will give it. I am sure of it," Francis promised him. "Sign it and find out what it is."
Bash rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"I love the sense of mysteriousness. Humour me," Francis replied, grinning. He couldn't be happy with the plague around the corner, but he wasn't sure if he would have another chance to do this.
Bash took the pen first and walked up to the desk, reaching a hand back for the paper. When Francis put it in his hand, he signed the paper against the desk and placed the pen down. He picked the paper up and read its contents.
"Royal titles?" Bash mumbled. "But-"
"You signed it."
"Francis, I don't need a title. Honestly, I prefer the simple life than the one of a royal," Bash said, placing the paper down. "You know that."
Francis shrugged. "And that gives you one. Once France knows how the former king's bastard and former mistress saved our country, your life won't be threatened. I have Avon being rebuilt and you are probably France's second most important man. I mean, who is closer to the King of France than you?"
"Archduke, that is quite something..."
"Go and find Mary and take her to the children. You have good news to tell the Archduchess and your little prince and princess."
...
Mary felt invisible. She hadn't been here in years, finding this tavern by accident when she and Catherine fell into unexpected circumstances. She picked at the cheap material she wore, thanking God that no one recognised her in her commoner's clothing.
"Hey, lady!" One of the cooks called out. "Still want that beef pie?"
Mary looked up. "Yes, please. I've brought some coin."
"Too polite," the male cook muttered to his wife. "Don't get many of those here. Here you go. Keep the coin, you've made my day."
Mary smiled, drinking her tankard first before digging into the pie. She felt like a girl, rebellious and sneaking out of the castle grounds.
"Politics," one of the customers called out towards her. "Do you get involved, lady?"
Mary shook her head. "I am a woman, what do I know?"
"Women know a lot more than men sometimes," the man replied, shoving some bread into his mouth. "That king of ours... I feel for his wife."
"You do?" Mary asked. "You don't hate her?"
"Oh, I hate her," the man said, other heads nodding in reply. "But for her to give up her own country for his needs? He's a greedy king, that is what I am saying. Who needs three countries? Next, we will be starving and he will be making sure crops are aplenty in England and Scotland. More responsibility, less time to focus on what's important. His birth country."
Mary clicked her tongue. "And what do you think would be wise for him to do?"
"His mother was a clever queen to his father. I am sure that the Scottish Queen can redeem herself and show us what she has to offer just as the Italian Queen did. We never gave her a chance," the man replied. "Probably because we knew she would fail us, then again she didn't fail her country and her armies came to liberate us from that tyrant. I will admit, bringing England into the fold was a good play on her part."
"I don't know. I don't get into politics," Mary mumbled. "I believe that women should sometimes sit down and watch."
"Watch the men mess things up more like," the cook's wife called out. "Then they will stand and fix things up. I wonder when the next time our king fails us will be."
Mary finished her pie and gulped down her ale. "Another one, please."
"Hungry?" The cook guffawed. "You are so skinny! Where is all that going to?"
Mary planted a polite smile on her face. She was feeding twin babies and needed all the sustenance she could get. Her appetite had replenished somewhat, especially with how tender these pies were. Although, French food was nothing compared to her native Scottish food.
"Somewhere," Mary replied coyly. "Alright, fill the tankard up, please. And then another."
"'Ere," he said, filling her tankard. "You one of these men's daughters or something?"
Mary swallowed a gulp. "I lost my work - I used to work as a handmaiden for the de Poitierses at Avon," she lied easily. "Then the lands were burnt down, my family split and now, I come here to drink my sorrows because loneliness is so refreshing."
"There's a madam, she might give you some good work," he said. "A pretty thing like you. Not that I would. I have my wife."
Mary giggled. "Of course. If you won't let me pay you, at least let me help and pay my debt."
"Clear the empty tables then," the cook's wife replied.
As Mary got to work, she could hear people talk about her and Francis. Even about Bash and not surprisingly, Kenna. They were all in favour of three out of four and sometimes that varied between her and Francis and who was right and who was more wrong.
After a while, she decided to make her way back. She thanked the owners of the tavern and left, getting onto her borrowed horse and riding back to the castle. She smelt the fresh air, inhaling it deeply and the sun hit her face and her eyes closed.
She could get used to this. Perhaps, she should make more trips away from the castle when Kenna was gone. The villagers were kind and welcoming, especially when they saw it wasn't a noblewoman or a queen. She remembered the last time - they had been eager to kill her and Catherine, not that they knew who the women were anyway.
Mary opened her eyes and she stopped her horse, sending the person who blocked her way a small, sheepish smile.
"You need to come back immediately, Mary," Bash told her.
"Why? What's happened? Is Francis using you as his point of contact for me, now?"
Bash raised his eyebrows. "I will tell you when we arrive. I've been looking everywhere for you, everyone has."
"Is it bad? Has something happened?" Mary asked in alarm, getting her horse to move again. "I was enjoying the fresh air."
"You couldn't have done that at the gardens?" Bash asked gently. "Mary, you can't disappear without any word. What if something happened to you?"
"No one would care," Mary muttered darkly, the effects of the alcohol finally starting to affect her. "No one cares. Not even Francis. The guards glare and stare at me as if I am a criminal. The nobles gossip right under my nose and to my face. Bash, do you and Kenna really have to go?"
Bash smiled knowingly. "Just be patient, alright? I will let you know about everything when we get back."
...
"The plague has returned?" Mary asked, sipping from her wine. "Are we sure?"
Francis nodded. "Nostradamus confirmed it. It is coming within a few days. For now, I need you and our children out of harm's way..." He eyed her clothes. "Why are you dressed like a servant?"
Mary shielded her body somewhat. "None of your business. I am surprised you didn't get someone to speak on your behalf."
"This is important, Mary. Not some childish row," Francis snapped.
"Well, the last time the plague happened, you ran off to another woman. My friend, my closest friend," Mary replied, sipping her wine again. "And brought back a child that you claimed for the whole wide world when we hadn't even had children of our own yet. You gave yourself a mistress, you treated me exactly how your father treated Catherine. Like nothing."
Francis took the goblet from her hand. "Perhaps you should sleep."
"Sleep?" Mary asked, amused. "I am wide awake and I am reinvigorated!"
"Lola was and never will be my mistress," Francis told her. "You are the one who led me into her arms in the first place. Getting with my own brother and destroying our relationship. Before you, everything was simple."
Mary looked stung as if he'd slapped her. "If I die right now, would you care?" She asked. That was how it felt right now. Her heart was breaking even more and she didn't know how much she could take. Her eyes watered and tears began to fall. "Would you keep me in your heart as you find another wife? As you bed other women?"
"You're not making any sense," Francis replied guiltily. "Mary, I didn't mean-"
"No one says things that they don't mean," Mary whispered. "It is always buried deep inside them, but they do come out eventually. Before I met you again since our childhood, I never really had a life. Threats of being poisoned in convents and attacked in carriages... Undercover, hidden away, locked up..."
She took a shaky breath and sat down, feeling the tears roll down her cheeks, one by one, two by two, and they never ceased. She felt cold, hot and sick all at the same time.
"Then I saw you and everything made sense. I did everything to protect you because I would rather you alive than marry me and I be the cause of your death," she continued. "Then we were given the all-clear and that was the happiest... one of the happiest days of my life. We got married, we struggled to have children, we got through Lola and John and Condé. Then, we finally had something. Anne. Then Rose. James. Now, the twins, Peter and Joseph. We had our fairy tale come to life."
"Mary-"
"I could beg, cry, refuse to eat, anything... But if that won't bring you home to me... Because this isn't home, not right now. It's a place I live in, but without your love, it's not home."
Francis slowly made his way over to her, kneeling before her and taking her hands in his. "This hurts me just as much as it hurts you. I try. God, Mary, I try. But my heart and my head and telling me two different things."
"Which one tells you that you still love me?" She asked quietly.
Francis sniffled. "My heart. But I can't let my heart rule my head. Not right now, France needs me."
"She will always need you."
"I know and that's the problem."
Mary nodded. "Well, then... It was nice while it lasted."
"Mary-"
"I am not expecting the world. I just need to be respected and I don't want your people to have another revolution," she whispered. "Just let them know that I am on your side."
Francis cupped her cheek. "Be quiet."
"What?" She asked, bewildered.
"Stop talking."
Mary nodded stiffly and he placed his lips on hers ever so gently. It was soft, barely even a kiss as their lips connected on the smallest of surface areas. Then, he pressed his against hers fully and cupped her other cheek as her arms rounded his waist.
"I love you," Francis breathed out, pulling away. "It's either-or, but I will make it work."
"What do you mean?"
"I can be a good king and a good husband," he whispered softly. "I just have to work at it. I have to work on us because I can't lose you, Mary. Not again."
"Francis..." Mary trailed off, letting out a sob.
"You asked if I would care if you died right now. God, I would care so much, I would die right beside you," he told her. "You mean everything to me and even though I was so hurt and angry, I couldn't deny how much I missed and loved you. The thought of you and our children kept me going. My head was telling me bitter things, resentful things, but my heart knew deep down that you weren't to fully blame. I should have stopped this the minute you gave Scotland what they wanted. Mary, it is my fault as well."
Mary swallowed deeply and then kissed him hard. She couldn't be selfish, she had no right to be selfish from the minute she declared Scotland's independence and lost it. "Go and be a king first."
...
After getting dressed in her usual clothes, Mary made her way towards the nursery. The same nursery that she would spend her days until God knew when the plague would end. It frustrated her, bringing back horrible and unsettling memories.
Eduard Narcisse amongst others. She didn't even know what happened to Luc, not that any of the men would tell her. She didn't know a lot of things these days.
"Mary."
Mary rolled her eyes and turned to face Catherine. "Catherine," she replied cordially.
"Come with me," Catherine said, already starting to walk in the opposite direction.
"I am meant to-"
"That was an order," Catherine stated, not even turning to face her.
Mary sighed heavily and followed after. She was tired, hungry and the last thing she wanted was to follow her evil mother-in-law into another confrontation. The slap months ago was enough contact between both of them and Mary was not ready for another round of abuse.
"Close the door behind you," Catherine told her, once they arrived in the Dowager Queen's bedchambers.
Mary closed the door, spotting the table full of food and drinks. "You are prepared."
"We all are," Catherine replied, heading over to her wardrobe.
Catherine paused before the wardrobe. She then turned to the trunk beside it and unlocked it, retrieving a dress with gold detailing. She then brought it over to Mary and laid it out on the chaise before them.
"This is the exact dress that I wore the day I stepped foot in France from Italy," Catherine said softly. "My family's crest stitched on it. It is Italian in every way, nothing French about it."
"It's beautiful," Mary mumbled, staring at the dress. "But what has it got to do with me?"
Catherine sighed, sitting down on the chaise and bringing the dress to her lap. She then patted the space beside her and Mary sat, turning to Catherine in confusion and slight anxiety.
"I was hated. The French never wanted an Italian queen. I was judged harshly, threatened..." Catherine began, eyeing Mary warily. "I had wanted to go home and hide. I was a girl, I had been prepared, but not enough."
"I'm sorry you felt that way," Mary told her. "But what has this got to do with me, again?"
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "You are not France's most loved queen. You probably will never be so either... Mary, I was in your position. Granted, I fought tooth and nail for my reputation, but before I became the woman I was today, I was timid and scared and judged."
"Were you?" Mary asked quietly.
Catherine nodded. "I was. I married Henry and people started to accept me. But I was too naive. Especially with Diane de Poitiers in the picture. After Henry and she had Sebastian and Henry claimed him, I was humiliated. Although France would never accept Diane as queen, they did not favour me too much either. Years of being barren had my every move scrutinised. The people judged you after Francis claimed John-Philip."
"If you know how I felt, how did you not help me? Or support me even?" Mary asked her.
"I apologise sincerely, Mary," Catherine replied to that. "I was frightened of losing Francis. Of losing the heir I gave Henry and not Diane. I wanted to protect my son from Nostradamus's prophecy and getting rid of you was the only option. I never believed events that followed that would be that substantial."
Mary nodded a little. "Like legitimising Bash?"
"The past is so long ago, things are hazy but memorable," Catherine said. "Anyway, I have to accept you. No matter how many times you put my son in danger, you are his wife and the mother of his children. You gave him three sons, you listened to me. I need to learn how to co-exist with you."
"Will you slap me again?"
Catherine smiled. "Do not test me, Mary. We are even."
Mary blushed, remembering when she slapped Catherine all of those years ago. "We are."
"Oh!" Catherine suddenly said, getting up and retrieving two golden dresses. "These are for my beautiful granddaughters. It's Italian fabric, the best. I have also planned a grand event for Rose's sixth birthday should we survive this plague. I want to make more of an effort with Anne and Rose."
"Thank you," Mary said happily. "That is sweet. I am sure they would love them and cherish their gifts and party."
Catherine cupped Mary's cheek. "You and Francis are better than Henry and I ever was. Try and make things work with him."
Mary blinked in surprise. "We are... getting somewhere."
"Good. Now make that somewhere a firm destination."
...
Kenna smiled softly at the sleeping children, walking over to the chambers connected to the nursery to retrieve some food. She rubbed her seven-month bump, feeling her back stiffen uncomfortably.
"Kenna?"
Kenna jumped, turning around to playfully roll at her husband as he entered and locked the door behind him. She gave him a bright smile, offering him some food to which he rejected.
"Where is Mary? Have you found her?"
"I did," he confirmed. "I thought she would be here already though?"
Kenna shrugged. "I haven't seen her."
"Her and Francis must still be speaking then," Bash muttered, taking a much-needed seat. "I have been running about the castle and outside the grounds all day, I need to catch my breath."
"Try carrying a child inside you," Kenna teased her husband. "The children are all accounted for and asleep."
Bash smiled at her, holding out a hand for her to take. He squeezed her hand the second it touched his and he pulled her over to sit on his lap. He then kissed her hand softly and sighed.
"I have something for you."
Kenna smiled knowingly. "I'd forgotten about that."
Bash reached under his shirt and retrieved her ring. He broke the necklace apart and slipped the ring off before sliding it onto her finger. "There, it's back on its rightful place."
"I felt so empty without it," Kenna mumbled, studying the ring. "Thank you."
"That's not the only thing."
"Oh?"
Bash bit his lip nervously. "What if we remained in France after all?"
Kenna frowned, bringing a hand to her head. "Bash, we talked about this. Scotland is safer, it's happier and we are closer to my family-"
"I signed our future."
Kenna closed her eyes. "What do you mean by that, Sebastian?"
Bash smirked. "You only call me that when you are mad."
"I am mad," Kenna replied, opening her eyes. "We agreed, my love. It was your suggestion in the first place!"
"I know, I know and I have thought about it," Bash quickly said. "Francis has rewarded us, mostly you, for our part in claiming France again."
Kenna gasped softly. "Really?" She asked curiously.
"I love how your eyes sparkle at the implication of monetary rewards," he teased her.
"Bash!"
"Alright!" He said, laughing. "How would you feel about becoming a royal noblewoman?"
"Becoming a royal noblewoman?" She questioned.
"Well, it is done already. I signed it, so you are an archduchess now. And our son is a prince, our daughter is a princess..." Bash trailed off, watching as her face contorted into different emotions.
It settled on shock. "A-Are you kidding me?"
"No."
"Is this a joke of some kind?" Kenna asked. "Are you serious? Does this come with lands-"
Bash pressed a kiss on her lips before replying, "I don't know, but this is real. Kenna, this is real. I shouldn't be surprised, Francis treats me better than our father did when he was still the king. Part of me feels strange about the whole thing."
"Don't feel strange. You deserve it," Kenna told him. "You deserve happiness and everything that France has to offer you that is great and wonderful. You have fought for them even when they hated you. It takes a lot of courage and strength to be who you are and I apologise for ever judging you for killing people. I am just as bad as you - I manipulate people for my selfish reasons."
"We are different people than we were before we had children, Kenna," Bash replied. "Don't chastise yourself because of that. You are the least selfish person and I know and I am glad you are the mother of my children. Damn this plague... I want nothing more than to be with you and our children but-"
"You are immune and France needs its undisputed hero," Kenna finished for him proudly. "Do you think our next reunion would be as dramatic and romantic as the first time?"
Bash chuckled. "I wouldn't want to risk our unborn child's life by lifting you. But after the plague has gone, I have so many kisses for you, Robert and Anastasia."
"Now, that's something to look forward to."
...
Francis winced in slight pain, feeling the ache in his head. He felt exhausted, but he couldn't rest. Not whilst the plague was arriving, cases of the townsfolk falling ill to the illness.
He glanced at the food and wine before him, his appetite nonexistent. Tentatively, he began eating and slowly, he could feel his strength return. His clothes still hung loose, needing to be stitched up in the right places frequently. He couldn't be seen out of place, even getting male servants to fix his hair and trim his stubble.
He was never one for caring so much about appearances, naturally being well-kept and clean, but his imprisonment had taken his strength and will to keep up with his appearance himself.
After signing off on some orders, he finished his meal and got up, tidying his desk. He still wasn't sure whether to remain exposed or locked away with the rest of his family. His mother was going towards the latter, trying to convince his uncertain mind.
Uncertainty.
That was dangerous when it came to a king. He couldn't afford to be uncertain in his decisions. Either he toughed the plague out like the commonfolk or he hides away and protects himself.
"Are you busy?" Bash asked, entering the room.
"Not for you," Francis replied. "What is it?"
"I saw how tired you were earlier. I've taken it upon myself to ask around about food," Bash said, handing him over a book full of signatures. "Nobles for the cause when the plague passes. Crops secured from Sweden and Finland. Do you need me to do anything else?"
Francis smiled softly. "No. You are doing this better than I am."
"Doing what?"
"Nevermind-"
"Talk to me, Francis," Bash said. "I am here for you."
Francis sighed, closing the book. "I feel out of place. Like I cannot do anything right."
"You did throw yourself into your duties right away. You need some rest. Perhaps this plague couldn't have come at a more better time for that," Bash told him. "I am sure that you are tired given all of the farming and visits to the orphanage you've done."
"How are you finding it easy? To slip back into your roles and duties so easily without second-guessing yourself?" Francis asked him.
Bash shrugged. "I have always worked to my limit, and once I reached it... I don't know Francis, I don't have an answer for you."
"I can't eat. I worry. I think about my marriage. I try and bond with my children..." Francis replied. "Three countries. Three countries under my rule and now, one is in dire need of help and I can't even think. I can't think of anything to help. Not that I did much the last time. It was all Mary..."
"Life has a way of testing you. Antoine's revolution allowed things to be put into perspective. You need to slow down and focus on yourself. Your health is important without it, there is no king," Bash said. "Anything you need, I am at your disposal."
Francis shook his head. "No. I won't rest until France has got through the plague."
"Until then, can you please eat properly and sleep? Not for Mary or me, but for your children."
"Some may think that you're the king," Francis teased. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to sleep for a few hours. I haven't slept properly - my mother breathes down my neck every second."
"Well, a good thing about the plague is that she is confined to her own chambers," Bash replied, smiling. "I think it reduces stress for all parties involved."
"And tension," Francis said. "Her and Mary aren't on the best terms. They already weren't, but it is worse."
Bash nodded sadly. "Perhaps you can help bridge the gap? Although, I doubt Catherine would be too willing to forgive Mary. Oh, have you by the way?"
"Have I 'what'?"
"Forgiven her?"
Francis crossed his arms and sighed. "I forgave her the minute she left for Scotland. But yes, we have seen through our hostilities. I intend to strengthen our marriage after."
"In more ways than one?" Bash asked, smirking.
Francis almost choked on air. "I think you should leave now!"
Bash left, his laughter following him out as Francis walked back to his desk and opened the top drawer. He slipped out a few sheets of paper, papers which had his beautiful wife sketched onto them. Francis let out a smile, brushing his fingers over the sketches.
He couldn't wait until all of this was over and to love Mary properly again. He shouldn't punish her, shouldn't make her an outcast in her country. She was already alone, but he hoped that his brother's decision to keep his family in France for the foreseeable future would help greatly.
Before he focused on France, he picked his pen up and began to write a love letter.