The war continues! And some foreshadowing for the special chapter 60! Enjoy!

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Guest (1) [chapter 59]: Yes he is and so do I, haha!

Guest (2) [chapter 59]: More funny Frary to come down below and thanks for agreeing!

Guest (3) [chapter 59]: That's coming up, real soon!

FeliLuna13 [chapter 59]: Welcome! And thanks! I'm glad you read 157k plus words that quickly, haha! I am not saying anything on the last bit ;)

It was a beautiful day, Bash laid on his back on the grass as his daughter braided flowers into his hair, his wife reading a story to their youngest son, their eldest son playing tag with a twist with John Philip. Bash sighed happily, his eyes closed and face content.

As much as he loved being the hero, he adored being the family man. The family man who woke beside his wife and kissed her bare, tanned shoulder before they made sweet love. The family man who chased his only daughter around at night, trying to wear her out for sleep as she was just like her spirited, never-ending mother who could keep going for weeks on her drug, happiness. The family man who play-fought with his eldest son with wooden swords, proud that his son was fast becoming like him for all the years he trained the boy and his efforts proved rewarding when he protected himself and his beloved cousin, Rose from their kidnappers. The family man who lifted his youngest son onto his shoulders as they played chicken in the lake with their dog, Willow and his nephews, James, Joseph and Peter.

Oh, Bash loved the peace-

Clank!

His eyes snapped open and his attention was taken to where his brother and Mary were in the middle of a coy sword fight. With real blades.

Gently manoeuvring his complaining daughter to the side, Bash got up and strolled his way over to the couple, hands in his pockets as he watched both of their forms. Then he realised that it wasn't swords, but fencing swords they were fighting with, with Mary tapping Francis's heart every so often.

"You embarrass me," Bash told his brother lightly. "Letting a woman beat you?"

"Do you want me to bring up Kenna?" Francis retorted, hitting Mary on her chest.

"Francis!" She squealed, eyes wide. "I can't believe you'd do that!"

Francis scoffed. "It's a battle, wife."

Mary glared at him and swung at his hip, narrowly missing him as he jumped back and touched her shoulder. "Francis!"

"Keep up, wife! Bothered you aren't winning anymore?" Francis smirked.

Bash coughed, laughter stifled in his lips and he turned to give his a wife a 'can you believe them?' look to which she responded with an amused shake of her head and a bite of her bottom lip. "I wonder what your children would think," he told the King and his Queen Wife.

"This. Doesn't. Involve. Them," Mary enunciated, touching Francis's breastbone with her sword. "Revenge for last night."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Oh," Mary said, eyes flashing with annoyance as she turned to him briefly. "Let's just say, he's lucky he isn't dead."

"That bad?"

Francis gave his brother a flying wink. "Midnight hunting was splendid, wasn't it?"

"You used me!"

"Get used to it, brother dearest," Francis replied teasingly.

Bash gaped. "I will not be involved in this little battle between man and wife. Or king and queen. Or fool and fool!"

"Bash!" The couple stopped and cried out.

"Grown adults acting like spoilt children," Bash said, smirking. "Get over yourselves."

He turned back, lifted Anastasia into his arms and threw the couple a warning look as Kenna and the children laughed at Mary and Francis's expense, following after Bash to head back to the castle. Enough of the outside for now.

"Oh, right?!" Francis called after his brother. "Says the man with flowers in his hair! What are you? A girl?!"

Bash's hand moulded into a rude gesture and Francis gasped, giving his wife an incredulous look.

"How dare he...!"

"Yes," Mary agreed. "How dare he indeed!"

...

The next morning, Francis got ready for the day but he realised something he was missing. Well, quite a lot of it.

"Mary?" He asked, entering her dressing room. "Where are all of my trousers?"

Mary shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know."

"Mary!" He cried out, heading to her shoe trunk to search but it was locked.

He attempted other places but he came up unsuccessful.

"Darling wife..."

"Darling husband," Mary replied in kind, humming as she sprayed perfume onto her luscious neck, craning it to get the scent everywhere. It sent him going crazy and he pushed away those lustful thoughts in order to find out where his missing clothing was.

"Please?" He begged, making her smirk and lift up some shears. His eyes went wide. "Please, tell me you didn't!"

In Anastasia de Poitiers' bedchamber a few doors down, Bash entered her room and his eyes brightened when they fell on her own. She beamed, getting up in her little pouffy dress to hug his legs.

He had other ideas, lifting her up in the air, making her giggle before catching her and setting her on his hip.

"Good morning, my sweetling."

"Good morning, Papa," she replied happily with another giggle. "Am I the centre of your world?"

Bash smiled warmly. "Yes," he said. "But don't let your mama know that, Ana."

"Will you and Mama ever have another daughter?"

"Why do you ask?" He retorted gently.

Anastasia shied into his neck. "I like being the only girl."

Bash laughed. "Well, it is up to God, my love. But we won't love you any less should we have another daughter."

She beamed, lifting her head to look into his eyes. "I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, my precious-"

A loud frustrated yell was heard and Bash excused himself, placing his daughter back on the ground with a firm promise to return and play dolls with her. He left the bedchamber, going to investigate where the cry came from.

He soon found it to be from the King and Queen's bedchambers and he entered the room, bursting into laughter when he saw his red-faced brother dressed only in a cotton shirt and his sister-in-law holding up a pair of shearing scissors and one pair of Francis's breeches.

"Do I even want to know?" Bash asked, going to close the doors before standing between the couple.

"Tell my wife to give me my trousers."

"Tell my husband to get on his knees and beg me for them."

Bash choked on air, seeing Mary's lips curl into a smirk from the corner of his eye. "You've definitely been spending too much time with my wife. Please, don't."

"Well?" Francis demanded, crossing his arms at his brother. "Tell her!"

Bash sighed heavily and turned to Mary, reaching out a hand for the only pair of trousers she had in the chambers. "Your Majesty, I beg on my brother's behalf."

Mary paused thoughtfully before saying, "No, thank you."

Bash rolled his eyes and turned to his brother. "Don't you have other pairs?"

"She cut them all up!"

"Mary!" Bash cried out, turning to her.

Mary shrugged. "He insulted me yesterday," she said with a pout.

Bash closed his eyes, questioning both of their sanity. Including his own. "This has gone on way too long. I hereby demand a truce between the both of you."

Mary started to laugh and chucked the trousers at Bash's face before placing the scissors down. "Very well," she said, holding out a hand to her husband who was now busy pulling up his trousers with a glare her way. "Truce. I'll even get the tailor to remake your trousers."

"That's not enough," Francis grumbled out, grabbing his doublet and tunic.

"What is it you desire more?" Mary asked coyly.

Francis turned to his brother. "That would be all," the King said, a blush taking over his cheeks.

Bash shook his head in disbelief. "If it has something to do with sex, then you have lost the plot. That is how this began!"

"Well, I do love my wife," Francis said, his eyes warming when they landed on Mary who smiled warmly back. "Even if she's a psychopath."

Mary gasped and began hitting him, making Bash leave with his head shaking in incredulity.

...

"This is getting ridiculous," Anne told her parents over supper that evening. "Both of you are acting like children. Sex driven and vengeful!"

It was only the couple, their daughters and their sons (including John) present, and the boys' eyes widened in curiosity to which Mary sent them a warm glare to return to their meals. That sent all four wolfing down soup into their mouths.

"What do you mean, dear?" Francis asked her, sharing a wary glance with Mary.

Anne smiled fakely. "I paid your guards to find out why you keep on coming to the boys' bedchambers in the middle of the night."

Rose smirked. "You've just taught us that sex is a powerful weapon."

"You," Francis began, his ringed finger pointing at both girls. "Are both forbidden to have sex until you're married." He turned to John whose eyes widened in expectancy. "Same goes for you too!" He stuffed some chicken into his mouth, chewed it quickly and swallowed it. "Enough on the matter, your mother and I are just... experimenting."

Mary used her wine cup to disguise her smile. That was one way of putting it. Sexual frustration laced with bondage and other sexual fantasies... After their truce this morning and Bash had left, they'd ended up in bed and Mary's eyes flickered over to Francis's neck that was laced with red-purple bruises.

She, herself, winced subtly as she felt the scratches on her back. It had felt pleasurable and now they stung horribly and he was apologetic after, not before she took him and sought revenge by scratching underneath his left ear in euphoria. Animals, they had been like. Desperate, mewling animals.

"Experimenting, you say?" Rose asked them, sipping her water. "Huh. I'll ask Auntie Kenna-"

"Don't. You. Dare," her mother said, making the girls smile knowingly. "As your father said, enough on the matter otherwise you are both to be sent to your chambers until we see fit to release you."

Anne snorted. "You wouldn't dare-"

"Two weeks!" Francis said, turning to her.

Anne gasped.

"Three."

She glared at him.

"Four."

"I'm sorry!" She cried out, crossing her arms in frustration.

Rose bit back a smile and Francis caught it.

"You can join her as well."

"Papa!"

"Make that five weeks for both of you."

He shared a grin with his wife as their daughters sulked, bemoaning their unfair parents. It wouldn't last five weeks as their precious girls could probably break their hearts with their sadness and innocent doe eyes. But for now, their strictness was a nice welcome in the world of parenting. Boundaries as their mothers would tell them, instilling them to do the same with their own children.

Boundaries.

Three months after that day, with the trousers situation and seething princesses, Mary entered hers and Francis's bedchambers where he laid leisurely in their bed, ready to sleep with the love of his life.

She giggled, noting his lack of clothes but before she let him take her and fill her perfectly and complete, she sat on the bed and brought his hands to her stomach.

"Francis, we're with child again," she whispered, seeing his eyes water and his mouth open in shock.

This time, his tears were of joy and not pain and grief.

Francis's lips met her own and his hands got to work, undoing her laces. She stopped his hands and got up, standing in front of him as she began to strip, watching as his blue eyes darkened and lowered to her stomach where their unborn child was inside. He really prayed that they'd see this one, alive, kicking, healthy.

Mary took out the comb that held her hair together and placed it onto her vanity before returning naked to straddle her husband's hips as she leaned down to meet his lips in a breathy, wet kiss.

His hand reached between them and she gasped when he touched exactly where she wanted him to. No permission needed, he just knew. He knew her mind, her soul, her body.

"No more fighting," he whispered breathily, which made her giggle.

"We haven't fought in months," she stated.

Francis smiled anyway. "A new start."

"Can we keep some things?"

"Like...?"

"The bondage?" She asked sultrily, nipping at his ear as she ground into his hand. She didn't know who was more aroused, her or him and he wasn't even being touched.

"I love it when you react like this for me," she said, peppering kisses all over his neck.

Francis began to rub against her, feeling her breath become sharp against his neck. "And I love how you react like that for me."

She brought her face to meet his and her darkened eyes met his own before he leaned up to kiss her deeply.

"I want you inside me, right now," she demanded softly.

Francis leant his forehead against hers. "As you wish, my Queen," he replied quietly before standing up with her legs wrapped around his hips and turning, placing her onto the bed where he removed his fingers in favour for himself.

Mary let out a moan, her eyes closing and a smile taking over her face. It was wide, happy, pleasured, content, satisfied-

"Oh, Francis," she said, his name repetitive on her lips with every thrust and twitch, the pressure twisting and leaping and catching on.

Francis's lips met her ear. "I love you so goddamn much."

Mary smiled, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "And I love you so goddamn much too-" Her eyes fluttered closed and she screamed out his name, panting heavily against the bed as sweat dampened her forehead.

He came not too long after and rolled off her, onto his back. "God, hearing you scream my name sets me off."

Mary giggled, blushing furiously. "Well, I guess I don't have to ask you how happy you are to be a father for the seventh time."

Francis groaned, shielding his face. "We turn thirty-one next year and we have seven children?"

"You have seven children," his wife teased him. "I did not push or will not have pushed seven children out of me!"

"Then, now you can't complain when I tell you that we might as well reach ten," he replied coyly.

Mary scoffed, laughing. "Well, I always said we'll see."

"Ready for round two?"

"Only if it involves rope."

"Oh, Mary Stuart, you will be the death of me."

Once, that would have set her back with tears and fear, but now she only grinned and got on top of him, reaching behind her to grab the rope from the bedside drawer.

"As I am the pregnant one, I can do whatever I want with you," she told him, starting to tie his hands together.

Francis shrugged, his muscles flexing ever so slightly which almost set her off just then with pleasure. He smirked. "Go ahead. Sometimes kings submit to their queens."

"You won't only submit," Mary mumbled, running her fingers down his chest. "You'll think I'm a goddess and worship me. After God, of course."

"Damn my Catholic soul," Francis murmured as his wife got to work.