MARY
This can't be happening. Aimeri isn't dead. It can't be. Francis holds me in his arms as I weep on the floor of the throne room, murmuring words of comfort in my ear. I can feel him shaking with sobs as he winds a hand through the hair on the back of my head, trying to soothe me.
"It's all my fault, Mary," he weeps. "It's all my fault." I gently pull away from my husband, taken aback by his words.
"Francis, don't…don't talk like that. It's not your fault that our son is gone," I whisper. I reach up and gently stroke his face, wiping away some of his tears with my thumb. "Elizabeth killed Aimeri. I don't understand why she would do such a thing, especially now after all this time, but…it's not your fault, Francis."
"Yes. Yes, it is, Mary," my husband chokes out. I stare at him, confusion ebbing its way through my suffocating grief. "Aimeri is dead because of me. It wasn't Elizabeth who killed our son. It was Serena and the Citadel. Mary, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen." I rise to my feet and, without another word, I storm out of the throne room. My husband follows me, calling after me. I ignore him, my vision blinded by tears. My emotions are a tempest from which there is no safe haven.
"Mary! Mary, please!" he shouts. "Please, wait!" I whirl around to face him, blinded by tears.
"You brought this violence into our home, Francis!" I scream. "Don't you get it? Aimeri is dead because of you! Our son is dead because of you and your mistakes!" My words break off on a sob.
"You don't think I know that?" my husband retorts. "I will never forgive myself for this!" He closes the distance between us and cups my face between his hands. "Mary, I will make this right. I have to."
"How can you possibly make this right?" I ask brokenly. "How?" I pull away from him and when we get our chambers, I snap. Something possesses me as I grab a vase and throw it at him. Francis narrowly dodges the blow and the vase shatters into a billion pieces upon impact as it hits the door instead.
"What the fuck, Mary?"
"GET OUT!" I screech. "I CAN'T EVEN LOOK AT YOU RIGHT NOW! GET THE FUCK OUT!" I slam my palms into his chest. "GET. OUT!" Francis's face is streaked with tears as he looks at me one last time. He leaves without another word and closes the door behind him. I succumb to my grief, sinking to the floor and curling up into a ball and I weep.
FRANCIS
I stand outside the door, too stunned to move or even speak. I can hear my wife sobbing from the other side of the door and it kills me, knowing that I am the cause of her pain and there is nothing I can do or say to comfort her. I force myself to walk away, pressing a hand to my mouth to stifle the sobs that threaten to escape my chest. I don't know where I'm going or what to do. Because of the Citadel – because of my mistakes – I'm losing everything. My son is dead. My wife blames me for his death. A ragged sob breaks through my chest…and another one, and another. I sink to the floor, burying my face in my hands, as I cry. Mary is right. There is nothing I could possibly do to make things right. The damage has already been done. I don't know how long I cry, but when I look up, I see Anne making her way over to me.
"Papa, why are you crying?" she asks. "I heard Mama scream. I'm scared." I don't know what to tell my daughter. What can I say? I open my mouth to speak, but a sob comes out instead. I don't want my daughter to see me like this. I don't want anyone to see me like this. "Is Mama dead?"
"No, no, no," I reassure her through my tears. "Anne, Mama is okay. Mama and Papa are sad because…because—" I force my voice to be steady when I speak, although everything in me wants to break down. "Aimi…he's gone away for a while. Your baby brother has gone away for a while, and we…we miss him." I am unable to fight the sobs that continue to wrack my body and Anne comes over to me. She wraps her small arms around my neck and I return her embrace as I begin to sob. For several long moments, we just hold each other.
"You and Mama will be happy again," my daughter says before pulling away from me. "Come on, Papa! Come play with me and James and Cat!" I wipe my tears and chuckle tearfully. "Please, Papa? Please?"
"Soon," I promise her. "Soon, my love." I kiss her hair. "Run along, Anne." I offer her a watery smile before ruffling her hair. "Papa needs to talk to Mama." My daughter nods enthusiastically before leaping off. I rise shakily to my feet and knock cautiously on Mary's door. "Mary? Mary, please…talk to me."
Silence. Several long moments drag on before the door finally opens and Mary stands before me. "Mary…"
"What do you want?" she asks tiredly.
"What do want me to do, Mary?" I counter, entering the room. My wife closes the door behind us and turns to face me. "What can I do to fix this?"
"There's nothing you can do," she says. "I'm packing my belongings, Francis. I need to get as far away from here as possible." Her suitcase is already filled with her possessions.
"Away from here or…away from me?"
"Francis, our son is dead. And every time I look at you, all I see is his face," she whispers brokenly. "You remind me of him so much. I-I need to get out of here. It's too much. This is too fucking much." A stray tear slips down her cheek. "I don't know when I'll be back. I just…I need to go."
"You're just going to walk away?" My voice breaks. "Mary—"
"You never gave us a chance, Francis!" my wife screams. "You took the situation into your own hands and our son is dead because of you! Our baby boy is dead!"
"You don't think I know that?" I retort. "Mary—"
"It's over, Francis!" Mary shouts. "It's over! Done! We're finished!" A heavy silence falls between us. The only sounds filling the room are the crackling of the fireplace and our breathing. My wife stares at me and our eyes lock together. I close the distance between us and hungrily press my mouth to hers.
MARY
Francis's mouth is on mine and I am unable to fight the cosmic pull between us. Our tongues clash together and our hands are in each other's hair. I don't remember when or how we make it to the bed, our clothes and shoes and socks strewn all about the room. My husband is atop of me, caging me beneath him. In an instant, he presses his mouth hungrily against mine. I reciprocate his kiss eagerly, cupping his face between my palms. I arch myself into him, moaning his name between hot and furious kisses. My husband slowly pulls away from my neck and I kiss him again. I entangle my fingers in his hair and deepen our kiss, shoving my tongue against his.
"Francis," I moan. "Please…Francis." The first thrust of his hips sends me gasping from the direct pressure on my clit. I dig my fingernails into his back, biting down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. "Francis!" I cry. My husband silences me by crushing my lips to his and I cup his face between my palms, stroking his cheeks with my fingertips. I bite down on his bottom lip and tug hard. Francis growls in response. He nips at the corner of my mouth and leaves a blazing trail of embers down my neck. A storm of pleasure crashes over me in waves and I let out a scream, arching my back. My cry echoes off the walls, resonating throughout the room. Francis doesn't stop. Slowly, he kisses his way down my body. His mouth finds my breasts and he sucks eagerly; I moan, running my hands through his soft golden tresses.
"You're so…so beautiful," my husband rasps. "Mary…" His hand finds my clit and he begins to move his hand slowly over my mound, opening the folds of my wet pussy and exposing me completely to him. I shudder in pleasure and I arch my back, throwing an arm over my head. Francis takes one finger and runs it against my slit, gradually journeying downward.
"Please, Francis…" He inserts his finger inside me and presses the palm of his hand against my clit. I gasp, writhing against him. "Francis!"
"Do you want me to fuck you, Mary?" Francis asks me. "Do you want me to fuck you until you scream my name?"
"Please…please," I moan. "Francis, I need you inside me. Fuck me…make love to me, please…" I am completely and utterly at his mercy and there is nothing I wouldn't want him to do to me. My husband's tongue finds my clit and he laps eagerly at me. His eyes are focused on me, gazing intently into my eyes. I struggle to keep my eyes open, the pleasure is so overwhelming, and I lay my head back down on the pillow, giving myself up to the sensations. Francis's sensual exploration of my body sends adrenaline pumping through my veins. He lifts his head up at look at me, his hand rubbing circles on my clit.
"How does this feel?"
"So…so good," I whisper. "You feel so…oh!" A scream of pleasure bubbles from my throat and his mouth is on my clit once again. I run my fingers through his hair and it isn't until moments later that another wave of ecstasy comes over me. "Watch me come," I moan. Francis's tongue against my most intimate of places has caused me to see stars. He inserts two fingers inside me, all while insistently sucking and licking my clit.
"Oh, fuck! Francis, oh my god!" I cry. My toes curl into the mattress and my fingers brush the headboard of our bed, my back bowing off the bed. "Fuck!" Francis's hand travels upward in a parallel motion, finding a breast and circling my nipple with his thumb. I writhe and moan beneath him and he presses a hand into the flat plane of my stomach, pinning me to the mattress and forcing me to be still. My orgasm rolls over me in powerful waves, each one more powerful than the last. I ride out the waves of ecstasy, writhing and fucking myself against my husband's mouth, until he softly kisses my clit and breaking away so he can reach me. I cup his face between my hands and kiss him eagerly, moving my fingers into his hair. His kiss is soft, passion bubbling just beneath the surface. I propel myself upright and reposition myself so I'm straddling my husband, my legs curled around his waist.
"I love you, Mary," Francis murmurs.
"Shhh, don't say anything," I whisper. I kiss him again, looping my arms about his neck and drawing us closer together, if at all possible. I don't want to think about our son's death or my absolute fury towards my husband or how much, in spite of everything that has happened, I still love him. It's too much. Too much at once. If I start thinking about it, I know I'll start crying and I don't know if I could stop. I sprinkle kisses on his shoulder blade and the curve of his neck, my hands fisting in his hair for leverage. My husband growls his approval and I pull away from him, stroking his cheeks with my fingertips. Our eyes meet—and for the longest time, we don't say anything. Francis runs his hands through my dark tresses, his eyes filled with pain and love and longing all at once…and it breaks my heart to see it.
I close my eyes and press my forehead to his. Francis doesn't say anything; instead, he kisses me. Tenderly at first, but it isn't long before passion wins over. I receive his kiss eagerly, moaning his name as his tongue penetrates my lips. Francis breaks away from our kiss and his lips move to my neck, just below my ear. My husband grabs a handful of my hair and tugs gently, granting more access to my throat. I cry out in surprise as he sucks at the hollow of my throat, his lips slowly traveling downward. My husband's mouth finds a breast and he sucks eagerly, his tongue swirls and flicks around my nipple. I cradle his head to my breast, arching myself into his mouth. I moan as he ravishes my breasts with his mouth, before journeying his way upward back to me. I entangle my fingers in his hair and kiss him desperately, rolling my hips. I lift up slowly, grinding back down and moaning as waves of ecstasy wash over me like the tide, pushing and pulling.
Francis responds to my movements with movements of his own, and I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. I gasp in time to his harsh, punishing thrusts. "Oh my god…oh, Francis," I rasp. Pressure builds within me, and I know that I'm mere moments away from the sinfully sweet release I've been waiting for. "Francis, I…oh!" I scream in ecstasy; I am scarcely aware of what is happening as Francis pushes me onto my back, stealing my cries in a searing kiss. I guide his lips to my neck, letting him leave soft, sucking kisses on my flesh. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, arching my back as a wordless cry is torn from my throat. Francis kisses me deeply and, in one swift motion, I roll atop of him. My hair falls in a curtain around us and I briefly break away from our kiss to tuck my hair behind my ears. I frame his face between my hands before kissing him softly.
"Mary…you're going to fucking ruin me," my husband groans. He takes my mouth in a hot kiss, winding a hand through my hair. I bite down on his bottom lip and tug aggressively. A hand ghosts down my back and my husband's fingertips dig into the globe of my ass.
"Oh, fuck," I rasp. "Francis!" I kiss him again, moaning wordlessly into his mouth. His hands are entangled in my hair and he rolls me beneath him, crushing my breasts against his chest. I trail kisses along his jaw, making sure to leave him marked in love bites. There is no telling where I end and he begins. Our hips rock together against each other in a sensual, erotic rhythm. Francis presses his lips in my neck, still maintaining his brutal thrusts inside me, and I moan. I take his face between my hands and kiss him deeply and he swiftly maneuvers me so I'm lying with my back pressed into the mattress.
"Mary," Francis whispers. I arch into my husband with a whimper, my nails raking his chest. I guide his lips to mine, losing myself in his possession.
FRANCIS
After making love, Mary pulls herself out of my arms and shifts to the other side of the bed. Her skin, like mine, is slick with sweat and her dark tresses are damp as well. She rests on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. I look at her, waiting for her to break the silence between us.
"Your kisses are more attainable than your words," I tell her. "What are you thinking about, Mary?"
"Is this what we're going to be now?" my wife asks quietly.
"I don't know," I answer. "Is this what you want?" You said that our marriage was over, and yet you made love to me afterwards. Mary is silent and she tears her gaze away from me.
"We've both been so selfish because of the love we bear for one another," she says. "I've had to bend my morals and go against everything I believe in time and time again because I love you….and I can't do that anymore."
"Do what?" I ask, unable to keep the bitterness and pain out of my voice.
"I can't stop loving you," my wife confesses. She reaches over to me, palming my cheek in her hand and stroking my cheek with her thumb. "This was a mistake, Francis." Mary pulls away and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I-I should go." She swings her feet over the side of the bed and makes to rise. I can't let her go. I don't want to.
"Mary, wait!" I protest.
"What is it, Francis?" She turns, looking at me over her shoulder. Her eyes are soft, but filled with pain. I rise from the bed and approach her, cupping her face between my palms.
"I love you, Mary," I tell her. "I love you…and that's why I have to let you go."
"Francis…"
"No, Mary. Let me finish. I know that you blame me for our son's death," I continue. "I don't think I will ever forgive myself for what happened to him…but if you want to leave me, I won't stand in your way."
My wife wraps her arms around me and presses her forehead against mine. Wordlessly, she brushes her lips against mine. I reciprocate her kiss with fervor, my hands moving from around her waist and into her hair. "Francis," she moans against my lips. I lift her in my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist, and I carry her back to bed, where I make love to her once more.