Replies to reviews:

Guest (1) [chapter 69]: Well, I'm afraid there will be more tearful moments coming up ;( x Thank you!

elder441 [chapter 69]: You'll just have to wait and see ;)

BlerBlerBler [chapter 69]: Indeed, perhaps they did get too comfortable thinking they fully changed the future. Robin is the best, just like his father, ready to help Francis in whatever he needs.

FeliLuna13 [chapter 69]: He really is.

During a council meeting, Francis was disturbed by the presence of Nostradamus. Both Mary and Bash were curious about his presence but Francis merely listened to the whispered message and excused himself after ten more minutes of negotiation with the German Ambassador.

"Where are you going?" Mary asked him, just so he could hear.

"A situation has arisen," Francis replied cautiously. "I am merely helping Nostradamus get to the bottom of it."

"Do come before supper," she told him. "Our visitor-"

"I know. I will be there," Francis said softly.

He left, following the seer to the man's quarters where the doctor was waiting for them. Dr Paré bowed lowly, humbled and honoured that the son of the last king he served had requested his services.

"I hope you understand when I say that whatever is spoken in the room stays between us three," Francis said to the doctor.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Paré replied, gesturing to his tools. "Shall we... get started?"

Francis swallowed hard. "I..."

"It is just a check-up," Ambroise assured him. "The actual treatment will not come until after my diagnosis."

"And what does this... check-up entail?"

"A non-invasive inspection," Ambroise told him. "Or shall we wait until you are ready, Your Majesty?"

Now or never, Francis thought. "Do it. How do you want me?"

"Just take a seat and relax."

...

"...Oh, Mary, it tastes just like home," Kenna said as they ate dinner.

Mary turned to her half-brother grateful for bringing the ingredients of the soup they ate. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Scotland and I," Greer began. "Have a love-hate relationship of late. But this signifies the good days. When we were little girls."

Mary beamed. "Indeed."

Francis stared down at the soup. It made him sick, for a number of reasons and the taste was an acquired one. "I must thank you, Earl Moray. For treating us to a lovely Scottish dinner. I know that Mary has been missing Scotland a lot recently."

James smiled politely. "You are most welcome. I am happy to return here to see her. And the children. It was a shock, seeing them for the first time. I hope to see them more often. With gifts, of course."

"Hmm," Francis hummed distractedly.

Kenna turned to Bash with a frown. "Don't you like it?"

Bash smiled wryly, taking a small amount on his spoon and eating it. "It's very... flavourful."

Castleroy nodded, beaming. "I believe they used peppercorn."

The women snorted, Bash smirking as Castleroy and James looked on in confusion.

"Oh, darling," Greer muttered, keeping her smile back. "They even used saffron. Can you taste it?"

"Oh, I can!" Castleroy replied, eagerly eating some more.

Francis watched on as everyone ate, pulled faces (in Bash, Catherine and Leeza's cases as Claude had become accustomed to Scottish cuisine during her years there) and he smiled sadly. None the wiser to what was wrong.

He felt Mary's hand on his forearm and he turned to give her a warm smile which she returned. He then removed her hand, kissed it and stood up.

"Excuse me, I have matters to attend to," he said. "Don't get up on my behalf. Enjoy the meal."

He left the dining hall and found the children giggling as they hid behind the walls. He chuckled, coming to lean against it. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at his son, daughters and nephew.

"And what do we have here?" He asked.

Rose shrugged. "Do you hate Partan Bree?"

Francis narrowed his eyes. "No..."

"You're lying!" Anne cried out, laughing. "Mother knows. Your face says it all!"

Francis met Robin's eyes. "Uncle Bash hates it too."

Robin snorted, waving that off. "My mother deliberately had it done fortnightly just to spite him when we were at Avon," he said. "I don't know how, but women know everything."

Francis's smile left his face. "They do, don't they?" He mumbled. "Robert, I need your help with a letter."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Robin replied quickly following after him as John led the girls away, laughing about an inside joke.

Francis led him downstairs to Nostradamus's quarters where the seer and doctor shared a nod just as the door opened.

"I hope you don't mind, I thought Robert could learn a few things," Francis told them. "He wants to be a doctor."

Robin's eyes lit up and he smiled, nodding. "That's... true."

"A very honourable profession," Paré gruffed out, clearing his throat before he gestured for the King to take a seat. "It is as I suspected."

"And what did you suspect?"

"Mastoiditis," Paré told him. "It is not easy to cure the infection, it may recur if there is not a permanent solution. That solution, I am afraid, is beyond our time."

Francis nodded. "And what will happen to me in the meantime?"

"Dizziness, hearing loss, abscess in the neck which could very well spread to the brain-"

"Are there any short-term relief?" Francis asked, now pacing the room. "Something to tide me over."

"We can only repeatedly drain any pus to relieve pain and perhaps stem the blood loss," Paré replied. "Or trepanation."

Francis closed his eyes. "Where did you study again? I recall my father talking about you on his deathbed, days before he died. He was always so... in awe of you. You had saved many lives."

"Hôtel-Dieu, Your Majesty," Ambroise replied. "My older brother had been a surgeon before me and I took great interest. I have learnt a lot in my career, Your Majesty - I even have written many investigations and methodical studies over the years. But this is beyond my knowledge or expertise and I would be most humbled if you would allow me to try all that I can to save your life."

Francis opened his eyes and nodded. "Very well. How soon do you need to begin?"

"Whenever you are ready," Ambroise said.

"Perhaps a week's time," Francis told him before excusing himself. He couldn't breathe.

Paré turned to Robin and gave him a warm smile. "How are you with blood?"

Robin raised his eyebrows. "I have been to war."

"Then I have some books for you to read, young man," Paré told him.

...

"Damn it!"

Claude frowned, coming over to place her hands on Leith's shoulders. "What is it?"

Leith sighed heavily, shaking his head. "It's nothing. I need to go and see what Francis needs me to-"

"Leith, talk to me," Claude told him. "We used to share a bed. Can't you be open with me?"

Leith set his jaw and shook. Tears sprung to his eyes and he bowed his head, placing his hand on Claude's one. He couldn't believe it. He thought he'd get used to it but the pain he felt now was unreal. It was like he was reliving his arm being injured and amputated all over again.

"Am I less of a man?"

Claude frowned deeply, cupping his cheek. "Leith, what?"

"Am I... less of a man?" He repeated, turning to face her. "I can't even... I can't wield a sword as I once could, I am limited in what I can do."

"Be grateful it was not your dominant hand, Leith," Claude told him. "It is not easy, I can't pretend to know what you're going through but as long as you're alive, that is all that matters."

Leith sniffled and nodded. "That's true." But the pain, he thought.

"A doctor who once served my father," Claude began. "He is around. Perhaps you should seek counsel?"

Leith swallowed hard. "Perhaps."

"Come on, let's see Lawrence," Claude told him. "He will be glad to see you. You are his hero - one-armed or not."

Leith laughed softly. "He believes I am his hero?"

"Every man is their son's hero," Claude said before she gasped at what she said. "Not that-"

"He's my son," Leith told her firmly. "We are to be married, he will be my son and my heir. If you want children, I will do my best to grant you that wish."

Claude smiled happily, hugging his arm. "You are a kind man. I wish we could have got together before I was married off to Luc but... I wouldn't have had Lawrence and I love him."

"I love him too," Leith whispered before wincing. "Perhaps I should seek the doctor."

"I will walk you there-"

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," Claude told him firmly. "Your woes are my woes. Now, let's go and see if there is anything to relieve this pain that is in your head."

Leith gave her a small smile, leaning his head against hers. "You're wonderful."

"Well, it's a breath of fresh air being with a man that respects me and doesn't fight against my family but for them," Claude replied easily. "Come now, perhaps I will treat you to a bath and a back massage. I know you deserve one for all that you've done."

Leith smirked. "I am not saying 'no' to that!"

...

"Have a drink," Mary told her half-brother as they took seats in her seating room.

"You are very settled here in France," her brother stated. "More so than you had been when you first arrived to marry His Majesty."

Mary smiled warmly, her eyes lowering down. "I guess having children does that."

"Their names," James began. "Forever etched into my mind."

"And how do yours fare? Bastards and all?"

James smiled wryly, raising his eyebrows. "You know about them?"

"I make it a habit to know about your life," Mary replied. "You claimed them?"

"My wife doesn't appreciate that," he told her.

"Men are easily forgiven."

James eyed her. "Was Francis easily forgiven when he conquered Scotland?"

"He didn't conquer Scotland," Mary told her brother.

James scoffed. "He's not exactly Consort is he?"

Mary stood and looked out the window where Francis was playing tag with the children. "It was a decision needed to be done."

"Was it really?" James asked. "You didn't fight at all. Didn't he fight for the French throne when you plotted to have his bastard brother legitimised?"

"Didn't I fight for the Scottish throne when they plotted to have you put on it?" Mary retorted. "You've no right to question my decisions. I am a queen-"

"Consort."

"And what if I am content with that?"

Her half-brother took a large gulp from his drink and stood. "Do you know how much the Tudors hated our family for ruling Scotland? They wanted our throne but you ended up giving it up to the French."

"The French have the support of the Vatican," Mary replied. "And you forget, I am half-French."

Her brother nodded. "Perhaps too French, I dare say."

"James..." Mary said warningly. "Watch your-"

"They've banned me from Parliament," he confessed. "Was it your doing?"

"No-"

"The French's?"

"No."

"I was replaced by Lord Douglas," James told her, rounding the chaise to stand behind her. "Mary, if you truly want to put a distance between us, have the decency to say it to my face. You do not trust me-"

"I trust you!"

He watched her turn around to face him. "Then why has it taken this long for me to meet my nephews and nieces?"

Mary blinked. "I don't know where you've been, perhaps hiding under a damned rock but over the thirteen years since my firstborn's birth, we have had attempts - kidnappings, coups, civil wars and recently a full-on continental war! I am sorry I did not spare a thought to the half-brother I had in Scotland or any for that matter, as I was worried about being a good queen to all of our people and making sure the kingdoms did not fall without my husband's presence."

James swallowed hard. "I see."

"You see?" She spat angrily.

"Your Maj-"

"Now is a little too late for formalities," she said, rolling her eyes. "I thought we could fix things between us, the hate or resentment... You are the only family I have left in the world apart from Francis, our children and his family... I need to know I can trust you if I need help."

"And your husband wouldn't help you?"

Mary sighed. "Scotland is our home, James. Even Francis can be blind to that fact as the people of Scotland know what's best for her. There's only so much whispering in his ear I can do. I need you to carry out his orders to the highest regard. Can you do that?"

"How can I if my place has been-"

"Regency," Mary cut him off. "I made arrangements for Douglas to take your place. To make sure the blood of the Stuarts remained in control. He and Robert may be Beatons but they act in Scotland's and our family's interests. Francis will come to you with the official offer - it's why we accepted your visit."

James's eyes widened. "But-"

"Don't be so surprised," Mary said coyly. "You've proven your loyalty."

"About time," her brother said lightly before bowing low. "It would be an honour to serve His and Her Majesties as Regent of Scotland."

"Power is limited in your hands, remember that," Mary told him. "More wine?"

"If we must drink to it," James replied, nodding curtly.

...

Mary smiled when she caught Francis waving her over. She bade her ladies 'goodnight' before hurrying off to link her arm with Francis's with a bright smile.

"Waiting for me?"

"Only you," he replied, kissing her cheek as a few noblewomen passed by, curtseying and trying to receive his gaze. He didn't humour them, merely stared at his wife. "So beautiful."

Mary giggled, shaking her head. "Seriously?" She asked dubiously. "After six children, I am still beautiful?"

"I dare think that being with child increases your beauty," he told her. "Perhaps we should plan the next one."

"No," Mary said, laughing. "No, no, no."

Francis laughed loudly. "Very well."

His hold on her tightened and she noticed, turning to him with concerned eyes. He gave her a smile and she returned it, albeit wary. Unless he told her, she couldn't pry too much otherwise he'd be a closed book. Not that he was a closed book but there was a time when she refused to tell him about the prophecy.

When they got to their bedchambers, Mary immediately went to get dressed for bed as he went over to their seating area, lying down on the chaise.

"Is everything alright, my love?" Mary asked from behind the screen. She wasn't bothered about changing in front of her husband but she thought the separating item will let him be more open.

Francis sighed heavily. "Yes. Just thinking about crops for the year," he replied. "I wish to secure some more deals with the Germans."

"Wasn't today enough negotiating?"

"Well, some nobles are on Spain's side," Francis said. "I want to entice them."

Mary laughed softly. "My husband, always thinking about the future."

Somebody has to. Especially when it's one without me, Francis thought. "Yes, my love."

"Well, ease your mind," Mary said, coming around the screen and running her fingers down her hair. "And hurry up and join me in bed. Just sleeping tonight, I'm horribly shattered."

"Actually, I need to see Bash about something," Francis told her, sitting up with a wince. "I'm so foolish sometimes."

"I can fetch Dr Paré," Mary said, crossing her arms.

"You know he's here?"

"Why is he here?" Mary asked carefully.

Francis beamed. "Robin came to me. He no longer wishes to be a soldier. He wants to take up Medicine. I want to convince Bash to be open with the idea."

"You are too good," Mary said proudly, coming to sit on his lap and kissing his lips. "You love our children, our nieces and our nephews. You are so kind and loving."

"I am considering offering three year's payment to Hôtel-Dieu so he can be taught there with the best when he's of age," Francis told her. "It's a much honourable job than serving a king as his ward."

"I am sure Robin is grateful all the same," Mary replied, cupping his cheek. "Be careful, Francis."

Francis blinked and nodded shakily. "I will. Excuse me."

She stood and he got up, leaving quickly. Mary stared after him, wrapping her arms around her waist for some comfort. She knew he was hiding something and that something made her stomach twist in knots. And not the good kind.

...

"Bash, I need to speak-Oh, God-"

"Francis!" Bash cried out, jumping off Kenna as she started to laugh.

Bash quickly covered his wife up as he gave his brother, whose eyes were now shut closed, an incredulous look, gesturing to the doors.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Bash asked him.

Francis kept his eyes shut. "Well, one can say this is an emergency."

"Leith-"

"That only a brother can handle it," Francis cut him off.

"One would think he's never seen a naked woman's body," he heard Kenna say teasingly as a lot of movement occurred.

"Kenna!" Bash cried out before laughing. "You never cease to surprise me. Why am I surprised? I'll be right back." He promised her with a kiss.

Bash pulled his trousers on and then his boots before he left the bed and picked up his discarded shirt from the ground. He then wore it and turned his brother around, pushing him to the doors.

"You better have a very good reason to disrupt my wife and me," he said lightly when they left, Bash closing the door securely behind him.

"Your wife is too much," Francis said, finally opening his eyes and turning to his brother.

"I know," Bash said, starting to walk off. "Come on then."

They ended up in Francis's offices, seated side to side underneath furs by the roaring fire, warm wine on the table in front of them them. Francis stared at the flames, smiling wryly.

"The last time we were like this..."

Bash sighed. "My first wedding day."

"How far we've come," Francis mumbled, curling his legs underneath him. "You saved my life."

"I will always save your life," Bash replied, turning to him. "I don't care if you're my worst enemy. You are my brother, Francis. And I'd rather a live nemesis than a dead one. More fun that way."

Francis laughed, covering his face. "I can't imagine a life without you in it."

"Oh, Francis... I didn't know we'll be doing the sentimental thing," Bash said, surprised. "Uh, I guess you're good to keep around too?"

Francis playfully rolled his eyes. "Stop. Just listen, will you?"

"Fine. But I am timing this. My wife will only wait a certain amount of time before she closes the bank so to say," Bash told him.

"Very well," Francis mumbled even though he knew that Kenna wouldn't mind anyway. "Dr Paré is here."

Bash nodded once. "I've taken notice."

"Robin wishes to be a doctor."

"Right."

"You're not surprised?"

Bash chuckled. "When Robin was little, all he wanted to be was a bear for some reason. Then he wanted to be a lion before a soldier, then a druid. Now, a doctor. I think I prefer him being a doctor over a druid."

"He's a good boy, Bash. You raised a good boy," Francis told him.

"I never thought I could be a good parent. It helps to have a good wife to keep me grounded," Bash replied. "Anyway, I know this wasn't to talk about my son. You said this was an emergency. Sitting by the fire with wine doesn't seem like too much of an emergency."

"I might as well come out with it," Francis mumbled.

Bash nodded. "Please do," he said, taking a sip of his drink.

Francis took a deep breath in before saying, "I'm thinking about making Mary's half-brother regent in Scotland."

Bash frowned. "Oh, a good choice. I am sure it will build bridges between Mary and James."

"Yes," Francis said, nodding. "Exactly. It's a wise decision to make and it will be in effect the minute he returns to Scotland. We can trust him."

"I wouldn't trust James Stewart as far as I can throw a stone," Bash said, the rim of his cup on his lips. "But if this is a way to keep your enemies closer..."

"I will give him the benefit of the doubt," Francis replied.

"If you're certain," Bash told him, placing his finished drink down and getting up. "Anyway, if that is all-"

"I'm dying."

Bash sat back down, turning to Francis with wide eyes. "What?"

Francis bowed his head. "I'm dying, Bash."

Bash shook his head. "That can't be... No. Francis, if this is a sick joke-"

"I wouldn't do that," Francis said. "Not with something like this."

Bash covered his face. "How long do you have?"

"Nine, ten months?" Francis replied, unsure. "I am doing everything I can to prevent it. I can't do it alone."

Bash pulled his brother to his chest and held him tightly. "We'll get through this. We will find a cure, save your life and we can go back to drinking ourselves stupid in front of the fire."

Francis sniffled. "I'm tired, Bash."

"Shh, just... sleep," Bash mumbled, pressing a kiss onto Francis's head. "Remember the lullaby Governess d'Humières used to sing to you?"

"Yes," Francis croaked out.

"How does it go again?" Bash asked himself. "Oh, right yes. Au clair de la lune, Mon ami Pierrot, Prête-moi ta plume, Pour écrire un mot. Ma chandelle est morte, Je n'ai plus de feu. Ouvre-moi ta porte, Pour l'amour de Dieu."

As Bash continued, Francis fell asleep, feeling his brother's fingers pet his hair. It was like their childhood again and a smile settled on his face. No crowns, no duties, no countries. Just two little boys, getting ready for bed and begging their governess to sing and sing and sing.

"Mais je sais qu'la porte, Sur eux se ferma," Bash finished. He glanced down and sighed, wiping his tears.

A knock on the door drew his attention to it and he was relieved to see Francis still asleep. As quiet and gentle as he could muster, he culled the person inside.

Mary.

"Is he asleep?" Mary asked, disappointed.

"Yes," Bash said quietly. "We have more to talk about tonight, the drink hit us harder than we thought. Not as young as we once were." He chuckled wryly. "Can you send Kenna a message? That I won't be returning to our bed this night after all."

Mary nodded shakily and planted a small smile on her face. "He looks so peaceful. Lately, he's been..."

"Yes?"

"Worried. Stressed?" Mary tried, shaking her head. "I don't know and he won't tell me anything."

"He doesn't speak to me either," Bash lied. "But I'm sure it's just anxiety. Over returning to running everything."

Mary nodded. "You're probably right. I will see him in the morning then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Mary left the offices, closing the door behind her. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and kept her composure. Why won't he tell me anything? Why does Bash get that honour?

She scolded herself, sounding like a petulant child. Of course, Francis had known Bash his whole life, some things were kept between siblings, not spouses and she had to accept that.

She just hoped it wasn't anything life-threatening.

Her chest tightened with fear.

Au clair de la lune is a French lullaby made in the 18th century but I found it fitting in this story that is set at least two centuries prior.