Mary let out a groan, leaning her head on the dark oak table of her study. Everything was simply too much. Her world had done two one hundred and eighty degree turns in just under three years. Mary hated feeling out of control, and she felt nothing but out of control over these last few months. It was simply too much, too much to wrap her head around, making it nearly impossible to rule with a level mindset. The raven haired beauty let out another whimpered groan, her head starting to throb from the events of the last three months.
First, she was thrust from a simple convent into the dangerous court of France. Then, her entire soul starts to darken, before her husband finally makes her pregnant and abandons her for two years to play house with his mistress and bastard child. He was legally declared dead, forcing her into a tumultuous marriage that had potential to grow into something more, before her first husband was magically resurrected from the grave and ruined everything she had grown in his absence. His treasonous lover and bastard child in towe, both having the potential to ruin her and her own son.
"Mary," a voice said. Looking up, she saw Greer coming towards her. The fair haired beauty came closer, long blonde waves reaching the lower part of her dark blue and silver embellished gown. Easily the most loyal of her ladies, she slowly advanced to her Empress, holding a folded piece of parchment. She looked troubled, concerned even, as she reached out her arm to give her Empress and friend the update that had been far too late. Greer's eyes were squinted slightly, her brow furrowed, lips pulling down in a frown that didn't look at all natural on her face.
"What is it?" Mary asked, her own voice sounding like one of a stranger, exhaustion -physical and mental- clear in the words. Lack of sleep and constant work had taken it's tole upon her. Subjects were frantic, wondering how their previous Consort could have miraculously risen from the grave, whilst devout subjects anxiously awaited news on their Empress, seeing if she could face any sort of punishment from this new development. James had left with Darnley to go back to ruling Scotland in her stead, until her own imminent return to the land of her blood, not that of her childhood.
But her James, her beloved son, had taken a different approach to Francis' return. Whilst the first visit had gone better than expected, the intelligent child's perceptiveness had seeped through, refusing to acknowledge his father unless his mother was in the room. It was almost as if he knew what had happened between the two of them, still refusing to fully accept his father to this day. What little bond they had was shattered when Francis brought him an item previously held by his other son, resulting in James not going near him or it, wailing until it was taken away.
It had been two weeks since the first visit, the nightly visits from King to heir had soured. James absolutely refused Francis holding him, only letting him get relatively close when his mother was at his side. Mary had been convinced that he could identify the other child's' sent, not taking to it as he had taken to her own. If Francis had seen his bastard son before the legitimate heir, James wouldn't go near him, but it had to be deeper than that. Try as he might, Francis was still a stranger to him, and the child didn't trust strangers.
"It's from one of your working girls. The ones you sent to look over Francis." Greer clarified, settling down on one of the seats after Mary's nod. Said Empress sighed. It had been far too long since this was due, normal curiosity at seeing the information severely dampened by the fact she hadn't had an hour of rest in her horrendously busy day. James wouldn't settle because of Francis' impromptu visit the night before, not allowing his mother to take her eyes off him, and French Court had been in disarray thanks to the imminent legitimisation of the royal marriage.
"I see." Mary sighed, opening the parchment and reading the code she and her girls had established with relative ease, eyes skimming over the words quickly, before she let the parchment fly from her fingers to the cold table, resting her head and hands on it, another groan slipping from her lips.
"What is it?" Greer frowned, adjusting her skirt. Mary glanced at her. The woman was pregnant with her second child, young George's anxiously awaited younger sibling. Greer was still frowning, fixing the dark blue satin of her skirt almost nervously, eyes darker than usual, her own exhaustion visible within them.
"Squirming around?" Mary guessed, observing Greer's lack of comfort and own squirming, recognising the symptoms well.
"Yes," Greer sighed, settling back against a cream satin, flower embroidered settee. "George wasn't this much trouble." she grumbled.
"Another reason why Kenna believes Meredith will have a little girl to play with," Mary chuckled. Greer shook her head, a reluctant smile painting itself on her lips. Greer's young son and Kenna's baby daughter were one of the few children James unashamedly got on with, much to the contrast of his own half brother, the one he couldn't even stand the presence of, let alone the vision.
"Yes," Greer chuckled. The little eleven month old girl was as bright and chirpy as her mother, the young girl adoring her proclaimed cousins. "But, I wasn't handed urgent information just to talk of our children." Greer started. "What does the letter say? Perhaps my own ladies can help." she suggested. Even though contently married to Aloysius, baring his youngest son and unborn child, the woman was fiercely independent, owning her own brothel just outside of Paris, the working ladies often helping Mary's own working girls in their assignments for information to the Queen Consort and Queen Regent of France.
"Many things," Mary sighed. "one of my girls has finally slept with one close to the Pope and the Vatican, within a week they plan to legitimise Francis and I's marriage, restore his rights to the throne of France, as well as my Consort." she sighed. Although Mary didn't have a choice in the matter of her and Francis' marriage, would prefer it to be legal than invalid and prevent James being a bastard, she still strongly disliked having to be wed to a man who could still break her heart and bring her sharp downfall and complete, utter destruction.
"What else?" the Lady Castleroy asked, fiddling with a piece of golden ringlets, pushing them behind her ear, listening to her raven haired Empress.
"Another has gotten close to Francis' page and secretary. She says he still wishes to claim his bastard, christen it into the church and give him his name." Mary sighed.
"Has anybody driven the point home? That he really should not do this?" Greer asked.
"Three nights ago, you did." Mary tried to chuckle.
"No! No!" James squealed, squirming away from the pair of black velvet covered arms. The arms of his father had reached for him four times now, not acknowledging -not wishing to acknowledge?- the fact his heir wanted them to stop.
"Shh, James. It's alright." Bash reminded him, stooping low at his nephew's side. He placed a hand on his little nephew's shoulder, dwarfing the little curvature of bone. But, still, James shook his head, not acknowledging the fact that his father had stepped back a few paces, looking all over the nursery.
"Mama! Mama!" he wined. He looked up at Bash with wide, golden eyes, giving him the same look that the little nine year old Mary did when she was ushered from the French Court in the middle of the night after an assassination attempt. Bash shivered a little.
"Mama is with the boring men," Bash tried to appease. "she will come to you as soon as she is able." Bash tried to calm his little, wining, nephew. But, the little boy shook his head and wrapped his tiny arms around Bash's neck, still wining for his mother who was stuck in a privy council meeting.
With a huff of frustration, Greer took Francis by the bicep and dragged him outside.
"Greer! What are you doing?" Francis hissed as the door closed.
"I can do whatever I please, you are not my Emperor, nor the true King of France just yet," Greer glared. "What did you honestly expect to happen between you and the Prince?" she hissed. "He doesn't know you, through your own foolishness. You are a stranger to him, you cannot force a connection between you, this is his choice. Follow his lead."
"I did," Greer admitted, playing with the large emerald on her new necklace, a gift for her actions. "But I don't mean telling him why he shouldn't claim the child, I mean why he should. He can't be this stubborn on his own, we know him."
"We knew him," Mary reprimanded. "Like all of us, he has changed over the last two years. We all have."
"Does it say who is encouraging him to claim Lola's child?" Greer asked. Mary nodded.
"Catherine." Mary sighed.
"What?!" Greer nearly cried. Unhappily, Mary chuckled a little. "Shouldn't Catherine be on our side for this? After all, you have essentially repeated history. Lola, Diane. Francis, Henry. You, Catherine. Jean, Bash. James, Francis. She of all people should know what you are going through, God knows how many times she tried to send Bash away as a child. Shouldn't she be encouraging him not to claim him?" Greer babbled.
"She's thinking of her son's happiness, I cannot fault her for that." Mary sighed. "She knows what her son wants, wants the best for him. It's understandable."
"It may be justified, but it isn't right. When will she learn to think like a Queen not a mother?" Greer huffed.
"Look at you, barating Catherine. Telling her how to act like a Queen." Mary chuckled. Greer blushed. "You are right though. The whole prophecy thing shows us she thinks like a mother more than a Queen. But, she is not the Queen anymore, I am. I must think like a queen. Whether I like it or not, that child exists and he is my subject. I have a duty to protect them, he is French and also a Scot. I am chosen to protect all of them. But, if James sees how that boy hurts me, he will grow to resent him, and when he is Emperor, he will destroy him." Mary sighed.
"I know, we must stop it."
"How? All we can do is tell Francis what we think he should do, but the man is stubborn. It is his choice, his crown will be returned to him within the week. God knows, I wish to marry Lola off to the highest bidder of no real power, let her live away from court so I never have to see her or that child again. But, we have to prepare for the worst." Mary sighed.
"Why don't you tell him how you feel?"
"I have." Mary sighed. "He knows my opinion, but he doesn't like it."
"So you're spying on him because," Greer trialled.
"He could be lying to me. Catherine lies to me. I believe Francis and Lola are lying to me now." Mary replied.
"What? Why? How?"
"When I confronted her after their return, Lola told me she believes Francis got drunk a few nights they were away, bedded other women. But, Francis contradicts, saying he spent every penny on their fare home. One of them is lying to me. I must find out who."
"Take this the nicest way, and I mean no disrespect in any way," Greer slowly said. "But you are turning into Catherine. Unhappily married, ruling France, Queen Consort, a legitimate son, wishing her husband's bastard would disappear, along with his mother, having people who are loyal to you and you only, sleeping with people to get information," she quietly trialled on.
"The crown changes everything, Greer." Mary finished. "You should know that by now."
Three days later, however, Mary didn't know how right she was.
Court was gathered all throughout the gardens, a party sparing no expenses organised by the Queen Mother of France and Baroness Kenna de Portiers was sure to impress. Music played throughout the greenery, the warm winds comforting, the sun in her almighty Majesty overlooking the celebrating French people. Food and wine was in no shortness, everybody dressed in their finery, dancing and laughing amongst each other.
Outside the Palace walls, the people of France were also in good spirits. Food was passed out generously, wine, blankets and wood in no shortage, slowly filtering through the once plague stricken, now prospering lands. Neighbours laughed as friends, for one singular day, no animosity, just happiness.
Two people, donned in regal red and grandeur gold, walked up the long isles of the grand Cathedral where the Kings and Queens of France have walked before them. In the cathedral, two sections were full to the brim with the most important to France and the most dear to it's King and Queen.
Two crowns, one sceptre and an orb lead to two grand thrones.
And, those thrones lead to the words.
"All Hail His Imperial Majesty, Francois of the House of Valois-Angoulême, second of his name, King Regnant of France, Emperor Consort of England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland and it's isles, Duke of Anjou, Lorraine and Edinburgh."
Another crown lead to the words.
"All Hail Her Imperial Majesty, Mary of the House of Stuart, first of her name, Queen Consort of France, Empress of England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland and it's isles, Duchess of Anjou, Lorraine and Edinburgh."
And, they celebrated. They were paraded through the towns and the cities, smiling and laughing despite the animosity between the two. It was temporarily forgotten until they reached the grand gardens of the French Court. And, for a grand, sacred moment, it was as if nothing had happened between the two.
If only.
If only, indeed.
The happiness and grandeur for the Queen Consort of France was hauled like a cliff face stops a wave. A wave of stark, ice cold realisation of the future. Her destined future forever changed with just forty three words.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the court, I thank you for all your support since my return to the French Court just three months ago. Now, it is my honour to introduce to you my son, Jean Phillip Valois-Anguleme, first Baron of Velay!"
And, those words turned into these, reader. Words that forever changed the lives of Mary Stuart, Empress of England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland, and Francis Valois, King of France. But, for James Henry Stuart-Valois, Crown Prince of France, England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland most of all.
"Greer, send for servants to pack our things. We're going to Scotland, today. And, we are not returning."