MARY
I can feel Francis pulling away from me more and more, and the trepidation I've been feeling has become impossible to ignore. In spite of his opening up to me a few nights ago, I know that he hasn't fully told me everything. Something is about to happen, and we both know it. I can only hope that it won't be too late for the both of us.
I find my husband by the lakeside, deep in thought. I approach him and take his hand in mine, our fingers weaving together. "I'm getting worried, Francis," I tell him. "I'm worried about you and our family's safety."
"You won't have to worry anymore, Mary," he tells me. He turns to me and gives me an envelope. I stare at him, confused. "In there is 450 grand. Half of what I owe Serena."
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I ask.
"Mary, there's nothing else I can do," Francis insists. "She threatened our family, our children." He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "She's not going to stop until she gets what she wants and I won't be able to rest, knowing that you're in danger and that our children are in danger." He holds my face in his hands, meeting my eyes intently. "I love you and I'll do anything to protect you." I nod wordlessly, a sudden lump forming in my throat. He kisses my forehead before he walks away from me. All I can do is watch and hope. I give a shake of my head and head back into the palace, where the children await me. Aimeri is asleep in his cot, while his brothers and sisters are eager for what the day might bring them.
"Mama, Mama!" Anne exclaims. She runs into my arms and I embrace her, before embracing and greeting her siblings. "Where is Papa?"
"Papa has some errands to run, my love," I tell her. "He'll be back in time for dinner and your usual game of catch." James tugs at my jeans and I turn to him.
"Why is Papa always so busy all the time?" he asks.
"Your father is the king of France, James," I remind him gently, but firmly. "One day, you will sit upon the throne of France and rule in his place. You're the dauphin, remember?" My son nods and I kiss his forehead. "Don't worry. He'll work with you on your reading tonight as well. I'll be sure to remind him." I take him and Anne by the hands and lead them to their rooms, Catherine excitedly following us. I stop dead in my tracks, immediately shoving the children behind me as if to shield them with my body.
"You must be Mary," she says coolly. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm Serena."
"What the hell do you want?" I demand.
"Mama!" Catherine whines. "I want to meet her!" Serena smiles coyly and my blood runs cold. She kneels down so she is level with my children.
"I love children, Mary," she tells me. "Don't you? So innocent and pure and naïve, blind to the cruel reality of the world." She chuckles darkly. "The purity of children…it's a shame when it's gone."
"What are you trying to get at?" I snap.
"You can't protect your children forever," she says coldly. "If it weren't for your husband's station as king, who is to say that the Citadel won't target him next for their next assassination? Oh, Francis didn't tell you? We're an elite group of assassins, hackers, and thieves. I kill for a living. It's in my blood. Your husband was too soft, and, well…the rest is history."
"Francis would never—"
"Don't be so stupid," Serena hisses. "But, again, who really knows Francis de Valois? Husband. Lover. Brother. Friend. King." Her fingernail drifts near an artery on my throat as she circles me, and I shiver. The very air about her is deadly; I know that she would not hesitate to slit my throat, given the chance. This woman is not to be trifled with. "This isn't about Francis, Mary. It is about a debt that must be repaid in full. And believe me, it will be repaid."
FRANCIS
I know Serena is in the room before I even step foot inside. Her cold, but seductive voice passes through the walls as I approach and I can feel my wife's fear and hostility coming off her in waves. I step through the door and her eyes meet mine. Serena turns around to face me as Mary escorts the children outside. Her eyes don't meet mine once.
"I have the money you wanted," I tell Serena, giving her the envelope. "I'll give you the other four hundred and fifty grand; I just need more time." She stares at me dubiously before she takes the packet, rummaging through its contents.
"Four hundred and fifty grand exactly," she says, looking up at me. "That is half of what I expected from you. What Astrid expected from you. Do you really want the brotherhood coming after you for the rest of your life, Francis? That can be easily arranged."
"Stay away from my family," I growl. "I'm not going to tell you again." Serena narrows her eyes at me and reaches for her gun. "I can call for your execution and you would die tonight, if I ordered it."
"I'll take your money," she says icily. "Don't ever think to fucking cross me or the Citadel again." Without another word, she stalks out of the room. I watch her until the door closes, before I burst into a sprint after my wife. Her hostility towards me can only make me think she knows the truth of the Citadel…or Serena has finally poisoned her against me. One thing I know for certain: I can't let her leave me without telling her the entire truth. Had I known my involvement with the Citadel would come back to haunt me and my family…
I find Mary in our chambers, her arms crossed as she stares into the fireplace. I step towards her, and she turns around to face me. "Mary, please…let me explain. I don't know what she told you—"
"She told me enough, Francis," she says calmly, with barely suppressed anger. "I-I don't know what to think. What were you doing working with a group of cutthroats?"
"I was young and stupid, Mary," I begin, closing the distance between us. "Mary, Serena inserted herself into my life and told me that the Citadel and all they did was for a good cause…and I believed them. She used me and manipulated me and I didn't realize it until it was too late." She shakes her head in disbelief and I gently hold her face between my palms, making her look at me. "I love you, Mary. You may hate me now, but I will do everything in my power to protect you and our family."
"I don't hate you, Francis," my wife confesses. "I don't think I could ever hate you. I can't believe it's come to this. The Citadel…god, Francis, why couldn't you tell me yourself?"
"I didn't want you to think less of me," I tell her sincerely. "I hate myself for everything that I did when I was with the Citadel. I helped kill people to further Astrid's agendas – people who were innocent. No, I never killed anyone when I was with them. They thought my talents were better used for gaining information that couldn't be obtained by normal means."
"You were a hacker."
"Mary, I am not that person anymore. The Citadel is no longer a part of my life. You are my life and I love you. I love you." My wife's eyes pierce mine and she launches herself at me, grabbing my face and kissing me passionately. I reciprocate her kiss, pushing my tongue into her mouth as she tugs insistently on my shirt. I make swift work of her clothes and she kicks off her boots before tugging off her socks. I am on her in and instant, crushing our mouths together and pressing her body against mine. The feeling of her bare body sends the blood rushing to my groin. I pull my shirt up and over my head, tossing it to the floor. I remove my socks and shoes, letting my wife drink in the sight of me. We come together instantaneously, our lips coming together furiously. I gently lay my wife down on her back on the silken sheets and I crawl atop of her, stroking her cheek. She caresses my face with her fingertips and for several long moments, we don't say anything.
Yes? A silent question. Mary kisses me passionately in answer, her legs wrapping around me. I am thrilled at her eagerness as I return her kiss with equal fervor. I kiss a trail down her neck, slowly travelling down her body. She arches her back and her breasts graze my chest. Every time we make love, our passion is raw and unyielding. This time is no different. I kiss every patch of skin I can find, not daring to leave any part of her unravished. I lift my head up to look at her; my wife's eyes are closed, her mouth dropping open in a quiet moan. I slide my tongue into her heat, my fingernails digging into her thighs as to keep her still. Mary writhes beneath me, running a hand through her hair as I tongue her. I slowly coax her close to her orgasm before bringing her back down again. I do this over and over again, wanting to drive her crazy with need.
"Francis…oh god, oh!" she moans. "Oh god, Francis, please…let me come." I raise my head up from between her legs and take a moment to look at her. Mary. My wife. My queen. The mother of my children. We've been married for five years and she is so beautiful. It is in moments like these that she is truly beautiful – body and soul bared to me. Just her.
"Don't fucking look at me like that," she says heatedly, but her voice is weak. I know she is still angry with me for keeping secrets from her and letting my past come back to haunt our present and future, but after all we've been through, it is our love and our love for our children that has kept us together. My tongue lashes about her inner walls and I kiss her folds, barely grazing them with my teeth. I slide my tongue against her slit, tauntingly rubbing my nose against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Mary comes with a scream, arching her back with a hand in my hair and her arm thrown over her head. Her cry echoes off the walls and she cups my face in her hands, dragging me towards her for a kiss. I oblige eagerly, shoving my tongue into her mouth. Our tongues clash against one another as Mary swiftly maneuvers so my back presses into the mattress. She mounts me, not daring to break our kiss. My hands are in her hair and she holds my face in her hands as we move together. My wife rocks her hips against me insistently. I lower a hand to her ass as she rides me fiercely.
I can't live without her. All these years of marriage together and my love for her has only grown stronger. It seems only yesterday we had just met again, engaged to one another and both wanting different things. I will do everything and anything in my power to protect her and our children. I murdered my own father to protect Mary and our unborn daughter at the time, Anne. I would do it again if I had to. If anything were to happen to them, I would never forgive myself. This realization makes me jolt upright; Mary resettles herself in my lap, kissing me insistently. She gasps as I slide deeper inside her, throwing her head back and moaning. I press my lips into her neck, thrusting into her vigorously. My wife gasps in time with my punctuated movements before pulling away from me. I run my hands through her hair before kissing her deeply, our tongues twining against each other in an erotic dance.
"I love you, Mary," I rasp. "I would do anything for you." She caresses my cheeks with her fingertips, her brown eyes piercing mine. Several long moments pass in silence and she presses our foreheads together before pressing her mouth hungrily against mine. I receive her kiss eagerly. My hands move from her hair and wrap around her waist, drawing her closer to me if possible.
"I love you too," she whispers, and her mouth is on mine once again. She links her arms around me, pressing her body against mine and crushing her breasts against me. I push her on her back, settling myself between her thighs. Three hard, brutal strokes and Mary arches into me, her fingernails digging into my back as she screams her release. I climax with her, screaming her name. My wife buries her face in my shoulder, the soles of her bare feet digging into my thighs. She kisses my shoulder and my neck, before cupping my face in her hands and kissing me hard. Her fingers entangle in my hair and I tear my mouth away from hers in want of her neck.
"Francis," she breathes. I suck on the side of her neck, determined to mark her. My wife arches her back, melting into my skin. She urges me lower and I oblige willingly, kissing and biting her where I may. Mary writhes beneath me, but I dig my fingertips into her thighs, forcing her to remain still. I rub my nose into her stomach in a taunting motion before returning my attention to her clit. I run my tongue from the opening of her entrance down to her slit, reveling in the way she unravels before me. She screams as her orgasm washes over her, but I do not relent in my sensual assault. I worship her with my mouth, ruthlessly sucking and licking her clit. My wife arches into me as her climax overwhelms her. She cries out before grabbing my face and pulling me to her, kissing me passionately. She pushes herself upright, repositioning herself so she straddles my lap, and she wraps her legs around me. Desperate for more contact, I kiss her hard. She leans into the kiss, sensually rolling her hips against me. Chuckling, I pull away from her. I stroke her cheek with my thumb, staring into her eyes. My wife's eyes are dark with sexual desire. Wordlessly, I push her onto her back and make love to her until we fall asleep in each other's arms.
MARY
Upon awakening, I find that my body is sore from my husband's lovemaking. I gently disentangle myself from his arms and climb out of bed. Francis sleeps peacefully, and for a moment, I envy him. I'm still worried about Serena and the Citadel. Even if she did accept the money Francis gave her, I can't believe for one second that she would merely leave us alone. I've known my husband for five years, and yet, as much as I love him, I can't help but feel that there is so much more he hasn't told me.
I shake my head, banishing these thoughts from my head. I can't afford to think this way. Not now. What matters is protecting our family, our children. I dress myself before heading to the nursery. The palace is eerily quiet and it unsettles me. Dammit, Mary. A pit forms itself in my stomach and I know already that something is deeply and terribly wrong. I break into a sprint and when I get to the nursery, I scream.
FRANCIS
A scream pierces the dead quiet of the night. I jerk upright in bed, startled, looking about wildly. Mary's side of the bed is empty; only an impression of her is in her place. Something's wrong. I hurriedly climb out of bed and get dressed, before breaking into a run. My mind races with possibilities each of them worse than the last. Mary being hurt, Serena hurting – killing – our children….
Mary is in the nursery on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. I rush over to my wife, my fear and concern spiking. "What is it? What the hell happened?" I demand. She looks up at me, her face streaked with tears, and in that moment, I know what's happened.
"Aimeri is dead," she whispers. "Our son is dead." Aimeri? Dead? No, it can't be. Our boy, our youngest boy…he can't be dead! This isn't happening. It can't be. "It had to be Elizabeth, Francis. It had to, but why? What does she have to gain from breaking the truce between our countries? I don't understand!" Tears burn in my eyes and streak down my cheeks against my bidding. I shake my head furiously, unable to believe it. Mary rises to her feet and runs out of the room, weeping. Through blurred vision, I watch her go.
My knees suddenly give out from under me and I shatter completely as the truth sinks in. My son is dead because of me. Serena killed Aimeri because of me. Everything in me knows I should tell Mary this, but I know that she will hate me. I can't bring myself to tell her the truth. Not now. I break down sobbing and I can't seem to stop. Mary screams again, and the sound echoes throughout the palace. I rise to my feet and run to the throne room, where I find my wife tearing down the peace banners. Her screams break off into broken sobs. I rush over to her and hold her in my arms.
"No! No!" she shrieks. "Let me go!" I tighten my grip on her as she beats her fists against my chest, murmuring words of comfort through my own tears.
"Mary, Mary, it's okay. It's going to be okay!" I sob.
"Our son is dead, Francis!" she screams. "I can't, okay? I can't, I can't, I can't!" She falls to her knees and I follow suit, refusing to let her go. Her screams break off into broken sobs as she cries into my shoulder.
"It's all my fault, Mary. It's all my fault." And I will never forgive myself.