FRANCIS

Mary and I rest in each other's arms, our naked bodies entangled together beneath the silken sheets. My wife rests her head on my shoulder as she strokes a pattern into my chest with her fingers. She raises herself upon an elbow, gazing at me intently. I absentmindedly run a hand through her dark, damp tresses and she leans into my touch, humming in content. She takes my fingers and kisses them one by one. I run a hand through her hair and guide her lips to mine.

"Francis," she whispers. She breaks our kiss, stroking my cheeks with her fingertips. "How long are we going to keep doing this?"

"Doing what?" I ask my wife.

"It's been days, Francis," she says. "We've already laid our son to rest. We can't keep doing this anymore. To ourselves and to the children. Anne and James and Catherine have been asking me questions I don't know how to answer…they've been asking about their brother and why they haven't been allowed to see him." Her soulful eyes are pained as she speaks; her voice breaks when she mentions Aimeri. Unshed tears brim in her eyes, and I hate myself for the fact that I am the reason for her pain.

"Mary, we can't protect them from the truth forever," I tell her. "I know how much it hurts, Mary. Believe me, I do."

"Do you?" my wife asks testily. I don't rise to her bait; she still grieves for our son, as I do. "Our children are asking questions…and I hear the people talking. About us…and our family."

"What do you mean?" I ask her.

"I know that Elizabeth agreed to the peace treaty between our countries and that the Bourbons are both dead," she explains. "The Citadel already attacked our family once. If they see that they've divided us…"

"You think they might attack again." It isn't a question. I know all too well the risk of another possible attack. Serena killed my son to make a point. "I promise you, Mary, I won't let that happen."

"I think I know of a way to put on a show for France," says Mary. "And if the Citadel even so much as sets a foot on our land, I will crush them."

MARY

"Mama, why are you and Papa all dressed up?" Catherine asks me. I turn around to face my youngest daughter as I don my earrings. "Is there going to be a magical ball, like in the stories?" I chuckle and kneel down to her level.

"I don't think there are going to be any glass slippers or pumpkin carriages, darling," I tell her, "but it most certainly will be a magical night. You, James, and your sister will have fun."

"What about Aimi?" she whines. "Why can't we see him?" Tears shine in her eyes. "Mama, it's not fair!"

"I know it isn't fair," I whisper, "but…he's in a better place." Tears of my own burn in my eyes and I blink rapidly to keep them from falling. I don't want my daughter to see me cry. I need to be strong for her and for James and for Catherine. "It's going to be okay, my little Cat. I promise." I look up just in time to see Francis enter the room, holding James and Anne's hands. I rise, but not before kissing my daughter's brow.

"You look beautiful," my husband tells me sincerely. I look down at my feet, fidgeting with my golden necklace. "Mary…"

"Thank you, Francis," I say quickly, looking back up at him. I offer him a smile. I sink back down so I'm level with the children before I speak again. "James, Cat, Anne…I realize that this is a big night for the three of you. Tonight is your very first ball, and your father and I expect you to be on your best behavior. I want you three to have fun and enjoy the festivities."

"But Mommy, I hate dancing!" James complains. "I hate having to talk with the other grownups! And Anne and Kitty Cat can dance way better than me!"

"James, son," Francis interjects gently but firmly. "Your mother and I both had to do this when we were your age. You're going to be okay. Just behave, don't get into too much trouble with your sisters." He chuckles. "Run along. Your mother and I will join the party soon." We watch as the children eagerly dart from the room. Faintly, the music from the ballroom can be heard.

"Mary," Francis says softly.

"Francis, please. Don't say anything," I say. "I just want to pretend that everything is okay. Just for one night, I want to be happy with the children and pretend that everything isn't falling apart, okay?" Tears, to my horror, burn in my eyes and my voice breaks. Francis takes a few steps towards me, but I shake my head vehemently. "No, Francis! I just…I need time, okay? I'll do tonight with you and help make it look like we're united, but I need time and space."

"I'll give you whatever time you need, my love," my husband murmurs. He takes another step forward, his eyes locking with mine as he gauges my reaction. I don't make any move to stop him. "There are no words for how sorry I am. For everything."

"I know," I whisper.

MARY

The ballroom is filled with mingling guests by the time we arrive. Hand-in-hand, my husband and I make our way down the stairs. A hush falls over the crowd as the large doors close behind us; after a few brief moments of silence, everyone bursts into applause. Francis and I make our descent and my husband leads me to the center of the room. He spins me around and I suddenly find myself in his arms, our lips inches away from meeting.

"Francis," I say breathlessly. Our eyes lock and all I can think about is his lips on mine and his arms around me, flesh to flesh… Dammit, Mary! I shake myself out of my reverie as Francis allows me to pull away from him. Everyone's eyes are on us and I can't help but feel scrutinized by them. There's no doubt they've heard about Aimeri's death. If anything is certain, my marriage to my husband is the talk of the court.

"Thank you, all, for coming here tonight," my husband begins. "I realize that you all have questions regarding recent events, but I assure you, France prospers. Tonight, my wife and I wanted us all to gather to celebrate five years of France's Golden Age. To peace and to prosperity!" The people burst into applause, and the orchestra begins to play. Francis looks at me pointedly and I offer him my hand. He takes it and he kisses my fingers tenderly, before he kisses my wedding ring.

"Can I have this dance?" he asks. In response, I close the distance between us and kiss him passionately, wrapping my arms about his neck. The people cheer and clap for us, but I scarcely hear them. Francis kisses me back feverishly, his hands moving into my hair. Several long moments pass until we finally break apart, breathless.

"What was that for?" Francis asks quietly.

"It was for them," I say curtly. "Excuse me, Francis." I shake my head, ignoring my husband's dumbfounded stare, and walk away. I grab a glass of champagne on the way, downing it heartily. Why the hell did you just kiss him? I chide myself. Things are over between the two of you. They ended the moment he told you the truth behind Aimeri's death. I spare a quick glance over my shoulder; Francis's eyes are still on me, filled with equal amounts of concern and confusion. For a moment, I think I see a flash of determination in them – but I don't know for certain.

Don't be so quick to judge Francis and his feelings for you. You've been married five years. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you…and there's nothing you wouldn't do for him either. The thought alone breaks my heart. I hate him for the violence he's brought into our home, but some irrational part of me still loves him.

"Mary, what is going on?" Francis demands. He takes me by the arm and pulls me aside, out of view from our guests. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Maybe it's because everything's been shot to hell ever since Serena came here," I suggest icily. I force myself to meet his eyes. "I know I told you I could do tonight, Francis, but I don't think I can anymore." I soften my voice as I speak. "Francis, I don't know what I want anymore…and to be frank, I don't think you know what you want, either."

"Mary, I know what I want," my husband counters. "I think you know what you want too." Chills run up and down my spine at his words and how well he reads me. There is no denying the fire between us. The moment I returned to court all those years ago, the pull between us was cosmic. Nothing about that has changed. Without another word, I take Francis by the hand and lead him to our chambers. I lock the door behind us before sauntering over to my husband. I cup his face between my palms and kiss him madly, kicking off my heels.

"Take off your clothes," I rasp between kisses, tugging insistently on his suit. We hurriedly shed one another's clothes in a passionate frenzy, Francis shoving his tongue into my mouth and his hands tangling themselves in my hair. My husband lifts me into his arms, setting me on my back against the silken sheets of our bed.

"Mary," Francis whispers. He kisses me hotly, pressing his weight upon his elbows as he tenderly cups my face between his palms. I arch myself against him in pleasure, moaning his name into his lips. My hands knot themselves in his soft, golden curls as I guide his lips to my neck. Francis obliges, kissing and nipping at the spot below my ear. A soft moan slips past my lips as I arch into his touch, my breasts scraping against his chest.

"Oh my god…Francis!" I cry. "Fuck!" He kisses a trail down my body, starting at my sweet spot below my ear and making his way down my throat. My husband's mouth closes over a nipple, while his other hand fondles my other breast. I writhe in pleasure beneath him, my sex wet and throbbing. Francis's mouth glides down my body as he sucks and kisses my flesh. He captures my flesh between his teeth and lightly sucks against it.

"You're so beautiful, Mary," he tells me. "I plan on worshipping you in every way possible." I moan quietly as my husband slowly slithers his way down my body, leaving lazy and hot openmouthed kisses on each patch of skin he passes. I try to sit upright, but Francis grabs my wrists and pins me to the mattress. I meet his gaze defiantly. "Stay still, Mary," he says lowly. He kisses his way down my body, tantalizingly slower than before and it drives me crazy with desire. By the time he reaches my pussy, I'm begging him to fuck me.

"F-Francis, please," I rasp. "Please…I need you inside me. Oh, god…"

"Actually, it's Francis," my husband says. Not daring to take his eyes off me, he spreads my legs apart and lowers his head down between my legs to my core. His tongue lashes out against my pussy and I gasp, running a hand through my hair as I struggle to keep breathing. Francis's tongue delves into my heat and swirls around my clit. My back bows off the bed, my toes curling into the mattress from my husband's ministrations. I lift my head off the pillow to meet his lustful, loving gaze. I run a hand through his soft curls, smoothing his hair with my foot, before falling back down again.

"Oh, Francis!" I cry. "Fuck!" He captures my soft flesh between his teeth and sucks against it, and I arch in pleasure. "Francis!" The feeling of his mouth in my most intimate of places is one I'll never tire of. He drags his tongue slowly along my clit and I arch my hips upward, desperate for more. My husband tongues me passionately, pushing me to my limits. My clit and pussy throb under his touch and I orgasm violently, screaming in ecstasy. Francis pulls his mouth away and kisses me deeply. I wrap my arms around him and push myself upright, positioning myself so I'm in his lap in a seated position, straddling his thighs. His hands snake into my hair, his tongue pushing past my lips. I raise myself up onto my haunches, moaning as he buries his face in my breasts. His tongue flicks against a nipple, before his mouth encloses my breast. I throw my head back and roll my hips against him, building a sensual rhythm between our bodies. I cup his face between my hands, desperately crushing my lips to his. I curl an arm around him, melding our slick bodies together.

Francis pulls away and breaks our kiss, gasping. My husband frames my face between his palms, meeting my eyes intently. "Mary," he whispers. "I love you." I lean my forehead against his as words elude me. I can't bring myself to say the words back to him. I slant my mouth against his and the angle of the world suddenly changes as my husband sits up and circles his arms around my waist before flipping me over so I'm lying on my back. He kisses my fiercely before burying his face in my neck, thrusting into me in hard, brutal strokes. I wrap my arms around his back, my hands moving into his hair as I meet each of his thrusts with my own movements.

"Francis! Francis!" I gasp. "Oh my god!" I crush my mouth to his and roll atop of him, holding his face between my palms. Francis returns my kisses with fervor before he begins to plant peppered kisses along my jawline. A wordless moan slips past my lips. I catch my husband's mouth in another passionate kiss. A hand ghosts down my bare back and to my ass while another pushes itself through my hair. I ride my husband fiercely. I break away from our kiss so I'm sitting upright, straddling him. I scratch at his chest for balance, before I roll my hips against him.

"Mary…oh god, Mary!" Francis cries. He bucks his hips against mine and I throw my head back, screaming in ecstasy. My husband sits upright and kisses me hotly, maneuvering so I'm lying on my back again. I wrap my legs around his back, returning his kisses eagerly. Francis presses his lips to my neck and I let out a moan of pleasure, letting myself surrender to his possession.

FRANCIS

After making love, my wife and I rest in each other's arms. I tenderly stroke her bare back, my fingertips gliding across her flesh. Mary hums in contentment as she rests her head on my shoulder and strokes my chest with her fingertips. Several moments pass in silence until my wife raises herself up onto her elbow, her soulful brown eyes meeting mine. I reach for her, combing my hand through her soft, dark tresses.

"Mary," I begin, but my wife silences me by pressing a finger against my lips. The silence is agonizing. In spite of our lovemaking, the distance between us is growing. The sex is only a distraction from the real problem. Mary hates you for Aimeri's death, my subconscious hisses at me. Even if she does forgive you eventually, things will never be the same again between you.

"Shhh, Francis," she says quietly. "Don't say anything. I just want a few more moments for us to think about each other. I want it all to go away."

"It won't go away," I tell her. "We need to talk about…us." My wife pulls away from me and sits upright, unable to meet my eyes. I reach for her, gently stroking her back. She doesn't recoil from my touch.

"What is there to talk about?" Mary says icily. "My son is dead because of your mistakes. Aimeri is dead because of you!"

"This is no easier on me than it is on you," I remind her. She whips her head around and glares at me.

"Do you want the truth?" she demands, rising from the bed. Her voice gradually rises until she is practically shouting at me as she redresses herself. "The truth is, Francis, I give up on us, on our marriage! You singlehandedly destroyed everything when you let this violence enter our home and kill our baby boy!"

I climb out of bed and don my clothes as well, before approaching my wife. I try to rein in my temper, but my anger towards myself and my grief for our son is all of a sudden too much to bear. "So, what?" I retort. "You're just going to give up? You're just going to give up on our family?"

"I'm not giving up on our family!" Mary shouts. "I'm giving up on you! You don't get it, do you? You can protect France, but you can't even protect your own family!"

"Mary, you are my wife and I love you!" I exclaim. "Do you hear me? I love you!"

"I don't like it!" she screams. "I don't like the fact that I'm your wife! Marrying you was the worst mistake I've ever made in my life!"

"It's not that simple and you know it!" I roar. "You're not thinking clearly!"

"This marriage? Francis, there's nothing left for you to salvage. Nothing! I'm just a hole you like to stick your cock in whenever you feel the urge!"

"Well, you seem to like it when I fuck you!" I bite out. Mary's palm lashes out and strikes me across the face.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" she screeches. "How dare you!"

"If you regret marrying me so much, why don't you just fucking leave?" I demand. "Why don't you just leave and save yourself all of this pain and grief?"

"Maybe I will!" my wife snaps. "Get the hell out!" Taking what's left of my dignity, I take my leave of my wife and go. Closing the door behind me, I can hear Mary sobbing on the other side. A lump forms in my throat and my vision suddenly blurs. I make for the graveyard, where my parents, my brother, my sister, and now my baby boy lie. I kneel in front of their graves as my tears slip unchecked down my cheeks. I trace Aimeri's tombstone with my fingers, the dates of his birth and his death just under my fingertips.

"I'm so sorry," I choke out. "I failed you, Aimeri. I failed to protect you. Your mother keeps telling me that it's my fault you died, and maybe she's right. I don't know anymore! I don't know how…I don't know how I can move on and I-I don't want to." Tears drip down my chin and onto the soil beneath which my son is buried. I bow my head as broken sobs wrack me. I press a hand to my mouth in an effort to suppress my sobs, but they only come harder. My agony overwhelms me and I'm practically drowning in it. All my hurt and my grief threatens to explode out of me. I don't know how long I cry, but my sobs gradually slow to shudders. I wrap an arm around my chest, trying to get myself under control. I take several deep, shuddering breaths before rising to my feet. I turn my back to the graves of my family and return to the castle.

Upon returning to my chambers, I find Mary waiting for me. Her suitcase is placed upon our bed, and her eyes are somber. "Mary?" I ask. "What is this?"

"Francis, I meant it when I said that it was over between us," my wife says quietly. "And I've been thinking about what you said earlier…after we made love. I believe that it's best that we live separately. We will work together as king and queen, but you and I are done."

"What of the children?"

"I am not leaving Versailles, if that's what you're asking," she says. "I wouldn't do that to them." I nod silently. "We won't be seeing each other often, except when we have to do our duty as king and queen."

"Are you sure this is what you want? I won't stand in your way." I love my wife. I always have, and I always will…but I can't be selfish with her. I won't.

"Yes. I am sure," Mary whispers. She reaches for her wedding ring almost hesitantly. Her eyes brim with unshed tears as she looks at me. "This is what I want." She lifts her suitcase off the bed and makes for the door. I slowly approach her and close the distance between us. "Francis, what are you…?"

"Shhh," I murmur. I cradle her face between my hands and brush my lips against her forehead. Tears burn in my eyes and they fall down my cheeks, unbidden. Mary leans into my touch and when I look into her eyes, I see how much this pains her. "Goodbye, Mary."

"Goodbye, Francis." She leaves the room, taking her belongings with her…and her heart.