Lola, I think we need to talk about your liaison with Francis in Paris."
"Kenna, I can't do this right now."
"Because you're tired. You've been tired a lot. You're pale, you're not eating, your new gown doesn't fit. You acted so strangely when you were at home with Francis. You're pregnant, aren't you?"
A pause.
"Fast work. Well done!"
Another.
"There is no better way for a royal mistress to secure her place. Look at Diane. If I could have managed it, but the king is well versed in avoiding such issues."
"Don't congratulate me. I'm not Francis's mistress. It was one night. A-A moment of comfort. Do you have any idea how this will shame my family in Scotland? And what will it do to Mary?"
"I understand that you're worried. Mary won't take it well, not at first. But think of it, in time, she'll recover, and Francis will be a loving father. He'd want the child to grow up here, and he'd probably let you raise it."
"Let me? I'm the child's mother."
"Yes, well, I'm sure that you would play some part. As long as you don't anger Mary and you keep Francis's interest. Regardless, Lola, your position at French court is assured for life."
"For life? But as what? Kenna, I can't do this."
"Lola!" Kenna shrieked as she stormed into Lola's chambers the next morning. From the small bed, the short little Lady shot up from her seat and looked Kenna in the eye. Blue eyes were ringed with red and her face was flushed. Her hair was messy and her gown and crochet cardigan crooked. Posture was crooked and her body pale and slumped. She looked exhausted. From inside the little chambers, the Lady's little bastard ran around, yelling and screaming in a tongue that wasn't any language. Neither gave him a second look, simply stood looking at each other. Neither spoke.
Lola looked horrible, but a sick part of Kenna was satisfied by the dishevelled apprentice of the former Lady in Waiting. Her white gown was ill fitting, clinging too tightly to her bodice and falling too low on her chest, the skirt was too puffy and embroidered roses were too small. On her biceps, a crimson-rose crochet cardigan hung loosely, one shoulder exposed. Brown curls were messy, the remnants of a bun falling out of place on top of her head. No jewellery, nor nothing on her feet besides the far too long skirt.
"Kenna, what is it? Is it Mary?" Lola asked, fiddling with her hands, looking her friend in the eye nervously. Her voice was dry and cracked on the fourth word. She looked horrible and sounded exhausted. Kenna's dark eyes narrowed as she looked at her fellow Scottish noble blooded woman. Her eyebrows furrowed, the well dressed Baroness in wrinkled golden satin didn't look much better, however. Brown silky hair was messy and there were bags under her eyes, having been up the whole night with Mary. The Empress still hadn't woken and had turned a deathly pale during the night, her fever had worsened and still hadn't broken. She hadn't moved a muscle even, hadn't cried out after another fever spike, she hadn't done anything but lay there for over a day.
"No. It is not. She's still asleep. Has been for almost an entire day, now. I do believe that she told you that you may stay for a night, then you must leave. Judging by the look on your face, I am right. So, if that it the case, why have you started unpacking?" Kenna asked, brushed a few strands of messy, matted brunette hair out of her face. Some parts of her hair had been braided back, but most of it had fallen loose. Her makeup was smudged after a night of having it on and her gown was wrinkled, all gold satin and white organza in a rumpled state. There were bags under her eyes, more viable than the nights she had Meredith when she was a newborn that didn't sleep through the night. She was even worse than Rose, who although was a good baby, the girl was nocturnal. A stark contrast to James and George who took to sleeping at night like ducks to water.
"I spoke with Francis-" Lola started.
"I am aware."
"He told me that I can stay until he finds me a husband." Lola's voice was quiet. She sounded shattered.
"Now, I don't think he did." Kenna shook her head. "He told you that you will be married off to some noble of no real power. He did not say you could stay. He has no authority to. This is Mary's court. You are in Mary's country." Kenna snapped.
"Yes, yes, I know." she looked down.
"You know, what?"
"We are in Mary's country, Mary's court. She told me I could stay the night-"
"The night is over. Leave. Now. Before you cause any more drama."
"Drama?"
"I had a funny little conversation with a certain upset Crown Prince last night, as he clung to his mothers' lifeless body." Kenna started. Lola swallowed thickly, in a way that was obvious to the fellow Scot. "He told me and all who were in the room that the reason his mother is unwell is because his father talked to the woman of the mean little boy. What could he mean by that?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, yes, you do." Kenna shot down. "Somehow he has found out that you and Francis were talking yesterday. But, that is not what concerns us all. He told us you were the mother of the mean boy. And, judging by your son's current actions, I can think of who that boy is." Kenna looked over Lola's shoulder to her screaming toddler. "Have they met?" she asked.
Lola said nothing.
"Answer me!" she yelled. John yelped out, screaming louder.
"Yes."
By the side of the Empress sat the Emperor. He held her hand. His left was soft against hers, his fingers gently tangled with hers, the thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of her hot palm. But the other was clenched tightly in a fist, his knuckles white with blinding fury and anger.
How could this have happened? Covert conversations back in France had informed the mother of his eldest child that in so uncertain terms should the children meet. Not yet, at least. Until further notice, the boys were to stay where they were, in two different countries with an ocean separating them. Yes, said mother nulls the distance, lies to him and his wife and lets the boys meet?! What was wrong with her?!
How could his own mother have let this happen? Catherine de Medici, the Queen Mother of France, was left as regent until he returned to France. Strict instructions had been put in place about the King of France's personal and professional life. Nobles who tried to blackmail the crown would be imprisoned, don't spill blood if it is not necessary and do not let Lola Flemming out of the Castle, let alone the country. Yet, she had. Why?!
In her mind, was she doing him a favour?! Was she helping him, in her mind? By letting the harlot loose and giving her safe passage to Edinburgh? By unintentionally having heir and bastard meet? By potentially ruining his marriage and turning his royal heir away from him?
He turned to said heir. Said heir slept on his mothers' chest, a tiny thumb in his mouth, mumbled 'meep's and 'myoo's leaving his little, pouted lips as he dreamed. His head was over her heart, listening to her heartbeat, comforted by the soft air of her exhales against his dark curls. He had part of her white satin shift in his little fist, the triangle between nightdress and shoulder strap. The tiny boy had barely been pulled away long enough to dress in some cotton slacks and a night shirt a few hours ago, who had fallen asleep just after dusk.
Physicans had worked tirelessly into the night to help heal their Empress, who had taken a turn for the worst during the first night of her slumber. Her fever had worsened, a sweat hadn't appeared, her skin had paled drastically and she still hadn't woken. Because of the dramatic change, her son had to be dragged away from her, Greer having a lot of trouble keeping the crying little boy a few feet away from his ailing mother as she was seen to by the physicians. It was only when they had declared that they had done all they could do for her that James was allowed back on the bed. It had been past midnight at that time, so the little boy was tired and afraid and just wanted his mother. He had fallen asleep the moment he saw his near father and was touching his limp mother again. It was only because it wasn't diagnosed as a contagious illness that he was allowed so near.
Their bastard half brothers stood guard a few feet away, the room heavily guarded from outside. Francis hadn't left her side for a moment, ever the valiant guard to his most prized possessions.
"Marie! Wake up, Marie!" a voice smiled to the young Queen of Scotland. Her eyes stayed closed, hearing the voice of her betrothed, getting ever so impatient to rouse her from rest whenever he awoke from the Kingdom of dreams before she did.
His voice. Why was it so blurry?
Her eyes stayed closed. Maybe if he thought she was still sleeping, he'd go back to bothering Elisabeth, trying to rouse her instead, or play a game before their handmaidens came into the royal nursery to dress them for the day.
But still, he persisted.
"Marie!" his voice had taken on a wine now. "Wake up!" her bed suddenly rocked, meaning he'd jumped up from the floor onto her mattress. She heard her golden sparkle sheer bed curtains rip from side to side. And he crawled over towards her.
He was touching her shoulder now, rocking her back and forth roughly.
"Marie! I know you're not still asleep! Wake up!" he demanded.
She mumbled a curse in her mother tongue, rolling onto her back and opening her eyes reluctantly.
She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her fuzzy mind, but he beat her to it. His eyes opened wider and his mouth opened in a gasp.
"Marie! You look horrid! Are you sick?" he asked. Swallowing back the urge to hit him after his innocent insult, all she did was swallow thickly and make a noise that sounded somewhere between a whimper and a moan.
Her head. Her head ached more than she could remember it ever aching before. Her throat burned worse than the poison she'd ingested just three weeks before. Mary shuddered at the memory of the burn in her throat and her body, the wordless screams from her and the fellow royal children, the rush of the doctors and the yells from the King and Queen of France.
Suddenly, his hands were on her face, touching her forehead and cheeks in a way he remembered his mother doing so, accidentally pulling her cheeks back and her forehead up a little, letting up at the snarl she let out, far less threatening than she wished it to be, but forgave herself given her current situation.
Mary's head fell to the side, the world suddenly starting to spin. Her eyes closed slowly, much to the dismay of her future husband. He shook her vigorously. Her eyes fluttered open, her dazed eyes met his. All golden and green and brown meeting the brightest blue she knew she'd ever know.
He said something, but the sudden pounding in her head made it impossible to hear what he had actually said. He took her lack of response and an arm slung over her head as response enough and leaped off of her and her bed, rushing out of the room, yelling for the guards to alert the physician.
Later, Mary was curled up to her betrothed, buried deep into his arms, covered by sheet after sheet of white cotton. The physician had given her tonics and herbs, altered the King and Queen of the future Dauphine's illness, then had taken off to brew her a special kind of soup and tea. He quietly hummed a French tune he remembered his mother singing to him when he was unwell, absentmindedly stroked her raven curls as she slowly fell off to the Kingdom of dreams once more.
And, not long after, the Dauphin followed. And that's how the King and Queen of France had found them not ten minutes later. Wrapped in each others' arms, buried deep in the white covers, soft smiles of contentment on their little faces.
She had recovered then, Francis silently reasoned with himself, looking back over at his Empress and heir. And she will recover now.
"Has there been any changes, Francis?" Greer asked as she came into the room. Upon Castleroy's insistence, Greer had left Mary for a few hours, long enough to rest, bathe and re dress. It had passed mid day, the second day Mary would spend asleep.
"No, there hasn't." came the tired response. Francis hadn't left her side ever since he talked with Lola, and had spent the entire night awake, just monitoring her for the slightest change, weather that be good or bad.
The King looked awful. His cheek and eye were bruised from James' blow a few hours ago, and his eyes were red rimmed from the latest negative turn. His face was pale, all dark circles and ashen skin. Blonde curls were unruly, falling in a million different directions. His clothes were askew and wrinkled, doublet long since forgotten on the back of a near bye chair. He looked exhausted and thin, arguably more than his wife did.
"She's just laying there. She won't wake up, no matter what Matthias tries." he added, pressing a kiss to the back of her hot hand, as if trying to breathe life back into it.
"Court knows that she's unresponsive." Greer sighed, coming close and running her fingers through Mary's long locks. Mary's favourite Lady in waiting looked considerably better, all donned in a dark blue satin gown, long blonde locks pinned up at the sides, even if she was dressed a might less fancily than she usually was. No jewellery and no head piece, no high heeled shoes and no makeup. She looked younger than usual, but worry for Mary had aged her tenfold.
"James is trying to stifle their concerns, sating that it's simply just exhaustion and stress, but we know it's more than that."she finished, running her fingertips over Mary's bare arm. The skin burned to the touch. She bit her lip silently, feeling the fever that had worsened since she left before breakfast.
"Yes, it is." he said, softly. "God only knows what's ailing her." he finished, looking down at the face of his slumbering beauty. She looked so serene yet sickly, exhausted yet radiant. Raven coloured waves were splayed all over the white satin pillows. Her face was a chalky white -a stark contract to the usual glowing porcelain- and there were dark circles around her eyes. The lids were gently closed, face and body thinner than usual. She looked so small in that bed, clothed only in a white silk night gown.
Greer said nothing, simply dunk another piece of cloth into a bowl of cold water, dragging it over Mary's forehead. The Empress did nothing in response. Greer bit her lip in worry.
"She's so warm." she said, her voice quiet.
"Her fever's worsened over the last few hours." Francis nodded. "She worsened again at luncheon. The physicians still don't know what to do. They can find no signs of infection, nor of illness. All they can do is keep giving her vials, broth and water, try to keep her cool. They don't know how to wake her up." he looked deeply into her slumbering face, running his spare hand down her arm, settling on her cheek.
"She will wake up, Francis." Greer started. "She has to."
"How could you?!" Kenna yelled. "You knew what Mary thought about them meeting!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, but I thought if meetings might go well, how they did when Francis was introduced, then Mary might change her mind. Allow me to stay with my son, the boys growing to be like Francis and Sebastian." Lola tried to defend.
"Do not make me laugh!" Kenna snapped. "You know damn well that your bastard will never be accepted, by James or by anyone! It's just because Catherine poisoned Francis' mind against Mary that your child has lands and titles. But, guess what, your child will never be more than a bastard! He has no future! He will be treated with scorn and neglect until he dies because you were too stupid to be loyal!"
"They weren't together, it was one night!"
"One night." Kenba laughed. "Does that make it better? That you whored yourself out for a few minutes of relief just because they weren't together? Guess what, Lady Lola, they were still engaged! The engagement was never officially severed! They still loved each other, they were still technically together! And you slept with him! Do you have any idea what you actually did? For a few moments of pleasure, you changed the course of nations, and because you forced James to meet your bastard, you have signed his death warrant!" Kenna yelled. "How could you do that, steal away Mary's husband for over two years, deprive her son of a father all because you wanted to sleep with him!" Kenna cried. "Not only have you signed your son's death warrant, you have ruined yourself! You aren't virtuous, Lola! Did you honestly not know what that would mean for you even if you hadn't gotten pregnant! Are you that nieve to the world around you? Are you that stupid that you thought one night of treasonous passion wouldn't have catastrophic effects? Did you forget about Olivia? Did you forget about her scorn in France? No, you slept with Collen beforehand, you're no better than a common whore, you're thought of as a harlot! And you deserve it!" Kenna yelled.
"Do you forget who you were, who you married?" Lola snapped, tears in her eyes. It was a last ditch attempt at defense.
"Yes, I was Henry's mistress and he forced me to marry his bastard son." Kenna rolled her eyes. "But we are happy! We have a beautiful daughter, he is a Baron, he is wealthy because of his service to the crown. We are loyal to Mary, and what were you? You slept with the man she loved, conceived his own bastard ran away with them to play house for over two years! What is wrong with you?!"
"I made a mistake! So, you've done everything perfect in your life, have you?" Lola snapped, small tears running down her cheeks. "You congratulated me on my bastard pregnancy, and now you berate me for it?"
"I grew up! I had a daughter, I became a wife! But you, you stayed right where you are! You are such a foolish child! And you expect to me to comfort you for the punishment you've brought upon yourself?" she snapped.
"I-I-"
"No, you listen to me! Do you have any idea what you did? If you whored yourself out and got pregnant, even with Collens child, you wouldn't be so scorned. But, of all the people you could have slept with, did it have to be him? Did it have to be Francis' child that you got pregnant with? Do you know the consequences? It is treason! High treason! More and more people on this island know of your treason, and if Mary's privy council calls for your head, your justified execution, she must provide it! By staying in France, under their King's protection, you would have been safe! But, no, you had to come here and ruin them! They were starting to be happy! Happy together, with James! And you come here with your bastard and ruin it!" Kenna yelled.
"I did not! Our situation is just something we have to deal with!"
"Deal with? This is not some sort of little political issue, nor a personal one, this is betrayal! This is treason! This will ultimately resulting in death! Francis' sons will rip each apart as they grow up, which is why they they were meant to be kept apart!"
"They are brothers! They can get used to each other in time!"
"Half brothers." Kenna reminded. "Neither are pieces of clay to be moulded to think what you and Francis want because you don't like what you've done!" Kenna yelled. "Oh sweet, innocent, loyal little Lola, use your head! Think! How could you do something like that! Mary was nothing but kind and gracious to you, and you do that? You don't deserve her kindness, you don't deserve her protection. God knows why she wishes to protect you, I have no idea why she still does. But now, even as she could be dying, she's still protecting you!"
"I know that!" Lola sobbed. "You think I do not? Her kindness and protection is a worse punishment than execution, forced marriage and disownment! But I cannot change what I did!"
"Do you have any idea what you did? If Mary wasn't pregnant with James and Francis claimed your son, she could have been executed! She could have been executed for her marriage to Henry, something that happened because of you! You could have ruined her!"
"I know! I know and I am so sorry! But I cannot change it, I cannot!"
"Francis." Bash said, slowly coming into darkened bed chambers. The royal chambers of Edinburgh Castle were lit only by candles littered all around the room and a roaring fire. Sebastian had been helping the Earl of Moray act as regent. James had been named Mary's second in command, being assisted by David Rizzo and the Lord Bothwell. But, they were horrendously busy maintaining order with the east of Wales and the west of England. So, the Baron -who had always assisted Mary whenever she travelled to England with baby James- was on command to help. Besides, he had been feeling slightly awkward and out of place with the Empress out if commission.
Francis, who had been dozing at Mary's side, let his head snap up. He briefly looked at Greer, who slept soundlessly on Mary's other side, before turning to his elder half brother.
"Brother." Francis acknowledged, sitting up straighter, groaning quietly at the feeling of his stiff bones cracking underneath his black leather doublet. "What is it?" he asked.
"Has their been any changes? Kenna seemed quite upset after the last visit from sir Matthias." Bash came closer. He glanced at the bed, unable to clearly see Mary from her sheer ivory bed curtains that were closed by a small bow at the foot of the bed. Greer -he could see- was curled up at Mary's side, her knees curled up underneath the blue satin skirts she wore, one arm extended out as a pillow, a limp hand fitting the white satin pillow nearest her.
Mary slept soundlessly still, next to Greer. Her nightgown was white, oversized chiffon sleeves providing little warmth. Her arms were bound simply over her ribs, hair brushed out and sprawled over the pillows, arms and blankets over her.
Francis sat on an oak chair next to the closed curtains. His back was reclined on a lilac satin pillow on the back rest, arms extended on the arm rests. He faced the bed curtains, one hand slipping underneath the curtain, looking intently at her calm face. His leather ensemble was askew and wrinkled, obviously not having changed since his Empress fell unconscious.
"She's started responding to some medications that Matthias has provided, her fever's gone down somewhat, theres some colour back in her cheeks. But," he sighed. "he still cannot figure out what is actually wrong with her. No physician can. It's just a matter of her waking up. If she does, they'll consider it sweating sickness and be done with it unless she shows symptoms and can speak of what they are." Francis finished.
"What if she does not? There's every possibility that she will not wake."
"Aren't you suddenly the pessimist?" Francis replied. 'Where's Kenna? You said she was upset."
"I assumed that she heard negative news of Mary. Her face was streaked with tears, she is not happy."
"No. I am not." Kenna said, suddenly coming into the room. Francis looked over to her. "My emotions were not to do with the Empress, although I do worry for her. They are to do with Lola."
"She is still here?"
"Yes. She unpacks. She tries to justify her comg here, her actions over the past three years."
"Really? She's told you that?"
"She did."
Bash looked to Francis. "You must tell her to leave. Immediately. Move her and the child to Dunbar. Immediately."
"Of course." Francis nodded. Bash waited until his brother was face to face with him, before speaking again.
"I understand all the reasons for you doing what you have over the past years. I do, but you must understand others' feelings about what you did. I will defend you, but I will not justify what you did. But, in many ways, you could be held responsible for what has happened to your wife. But, if James grows up without a mother because of what has happened between you, I will never forgive you."