Disclaimer:- I do not own 'The Tudors'.
The title is a song composed by Yiruma. Warning: Francis is a bit OOC.
Calais, June 1519
The ship had landed not an hour ago. Only the king had yet to arrive since he had come in another ship.
Elizabeth tried to adjust her slightly titled hood with her hands but that only led to the headpiece to get more tilted than before. Seeing the ongoing battle between the princess and her hood, Anne stepped forward for help. She was stopped by Elizabeth's 'don't you dare touch it' look that rflected form her vanity. After another few minutes, the younger woman gave up trying to adjust it and started taking the hair pins out.
"Your grace, you're ruining your hair." a lady that had been introduced to the princess, now a queen, by the lord norfolk spoke up. Irritated, Elizabeth left the piece hanging in her flaxen hair, she had indeed ruined her the intricate braids that her ladies had worked all morning on. Before she could apolozise, trickles of water fell into her palms that rested in her lap. She then realized that she was crying over her messed hair. "Your majesty, I didn't mean any harm. I truly apologize-"
"Leave!" Elizabeth ordered, her voice was rough with the growing lump in her throat. Her ladies shifted uncomfortably in their heels, unsure of what they should do. "Leave, now!" she repeated with more conviction, only then the first of her most weak-willed ladies left, one of them was the blonde who had been apolozising to her. The other more braver ladies stayed, each shooting uncertain glances at each other before they exited the royal cabin as well. Anne and Meg stayed though, both wore an identical look of amusement.
Ignoring the presence of her best friend and step-cousin relatively, she started taking out those awful nun gowns that were used to hide her ugly scars. They had never bothered her before but today was her anniversary, she had every right to be who she was. Soon would be in the mercy of a stranger, the least she could do was be herself before it all ended. 'Yes, today the people will not see me as the younger princess that lived in the shadows. I'm the heir of Melusina, I make my own destiny.' her mind told her she was doing this to impress a certain man but she scoffed internally. She'd never put an effort to be presentable for that man.
She went to her open chest where the discarded coloured gowns rested. 'Yes that'll do.' she praised the blood red gown that went over a pale kirtle and the golden trimmings that went with it. She liked the gown, it wasn't adorned with so many jewels that she would feel burdened nor did it look too simple for her station. Next she went for a jeweled carcanet that covered some of the scars, 'the rest would need paint' she decided and looked for a suitable pair of heels.
"Well, help me!" Elizabeth pleaded as she stepped out of the heavy black gown. At once, the two ladies started helping her. No matter what their princess would say about the sudden change of her mind, the two ladies had a feeling that this was no doubt a start of a very interesting day.
"Your majesty." the guard's voice came from outside hen they had just finished brushing her hair. Nodding for Meg to check, Elizabeth stood, 'it's time', she released a heavy sigh when Meg came back in and confirmed it. 'Time to play the role of an ideal wife.' her heart hammered violently and colour rose in her cheeks. She dismissed as sign of nervousness and not anticipation to meet Francis. No why would she blush at such an occasion? She hated the man.
'Right?' an uncertain part of her mind voiced as she stepped out of the ship.
"All of you in the pain of death! Stay!" their king's voice echoed through the plain. Among the amassed crowd was Princess Elizabeth, who shook her head in defeat. 'He had to show his bravery, didn't he?' galloping to the front, Elizabeth watched as her brother rode with speed to meet the french. She soon reached the front line, halting in the space that had previously occupied by her brother.
Elizabeth could see the small dots of people dressed in rich fabrics, suprisingly visible from that far a distance, the french banner afloat proudly in the air. 'So, this is to be my country and they my people.' the princess mulled over her future. She waited for her brother's words, while listening to the trees move harmoniously. The feeling she had was weird, somehow she felt more in sync with the waters of this side of Europe than she had ever done in England. It was undescribable, the feeling of (grugding) belonging she felt with this land. She had instantly registered that there was a stream near by as soon as she had came out of her ship.
She didn't get to ponder on it much longer as a mass of french soldiers rode to the english congregation.
"His Majesty, King Francoise welcomes you, good friend and allies of France." a dark-haired man spoke in thick frank accent. 'Guide me, mother.' Elizabeth slipped a gold coin, that her aunt had provided for the occasion, in the ground before following the crowd of people.
Elizabeth's POV, A week later, Chateau d'Amboise
I can feel my heart jump at every small sound someone makes, it is impatient. The Bishop then tells me that it is time to which my heart speeds again. Reaching for Meg's hand for comfort, I prepare myself internally for the grand entrance. I'm still in the gown I wore from this morning and I thank myself for the heat is strong and had I worn the black rag I would've fainted already.
With loud music, I am brought to the curious courtiers. Determined to not look at them, for fear of stumbling on my step, my eyes concentrate on my tutor, Thomas More. It has been a while since I have exchanged a good word with him and I hope I could see him once before they all leave. Beside him standing is Wolsey, bitter venom can be tasted in my mouth, I hate him thus.
I stare hatefully at the Cardinal as I'm presented to their french king as his new wife and queen. It isn't until that moment that I notice the man. He is a good looking man, as I was told he was (continously by various members of the court), but the way he almost glares at me, makes his pretty face unappealing. His build is not that of a great soldier but the way he calculates his every movement speaks for itself that he is a war tactician of great capability. He wears clothes of rich fabrics but the way he wears it makes him look modest unlike the other men in the room who look arrogant and proud. Everything about him is intriguing but I stop myself from getting lost in thought.
"...beautiful sister and your wife, Elizabeth of England." I manage to hear the last words of my brother and nearly snort in disagreement before I remember I am in fact going to be this king's wife.
Francis smiles politely at my direction and I reciprocate his gesture, though both our eyes speak differently. It is as though I can read his mind by looking into those cinnamon irises. "Beautiful indeed." he says but I can see him wanting to say 'Yes, and I am Hephaestus.' He offers his arm to me, which I grudgingly take and the Cardinal commences the ceremony with an extract from bible on fidelity, his eyes apologetic to his king. I smile gleefully, trying to teach my 'husband' of fidelity was like seducing Hera. An impossible prospect.
I repeat the same vows I had done some months ago in London. It is flawless, as if I had practiced it until I had perfected it, which I hadn't. I hope the french fool hasn't misinterprited my eagerness in getting the ceremony over and done with. While I did choose comfortable gown, the heels that I chose was quite impractical and standing on them was soon becoming a nightmare to my feet.
The crowd cheers when the priest pronounces us husband and wife - again. I feel greatly relieved as I can sit again but then my frank husband says something that sends chills up my spine. "And soon we'll be husband and wife in word and meaning." Oh and there was that.
Later that night
'Husband it's that time of month', I shake my head, it was weird to refer that man as 'husband' of all things. 'I'm not capable', I shake my head even more vigorously, I didn't want rumours of my frigidness out and about in the court. What could I say or do to stop the inevtibale? 'Oh Melusina, help your daughter.' I pray to her, my supposed ancestress, but I can only hear a faint echo of a laughter. I must be truly losing my mind.
"Are you alright, your majesty?" Anne asks, giving me a curious look while covering me with my nightcape. 'Think, think before it's too late.' I say but my mind has suddenly stopped working. "Your majesty?" her voice brings me back to my reality. This wasn't happening to me, it wasn't. "Your majesty?"
"Huh?" is my intelligent anwser. "Yes, I'm quite well." straightening out imaginary crease in my linen chemise, I bite my lip. There is a knock on the door which Lady Devereux answers. A few whispers and nods later, my distant red-haired cousin comes to take me.
"It's time, your grace." the words still my heart, in fear or shock I don't know. Now more than ever I miss my mother. She would've told me what to expect, even a female relative who'd know what to say would have done the work. Poor Anne had tried to sooth me but she an unmarried maiden herself, had nothing but her arms to comfort my anguish.
But I couldn't delay anymore. It was, as my aunt put it, my destiny to become the Queen of France and to be that I had to do this. Determined to not fail, I followed the guard. I was met by Louise of Savoy, the king's mother, in my way to the king's chamber. I blushed several colours when the formidable looking older woman winked knowingly. 'Keep calm, Elizabeth. You're the Queen of France now, what happens behind closed doors is no longer a secret.'
Just when I thought I had calmed, we reach the king's room where an audience of various noble gentlemen and ladies were waiting for their new queen. My eyes widen a fraction and I stare from the Cardinal waiting to church the royal bed to the king's mother. This was not like England at all.
One of my ladies takes my nightcape and I soon feel concious about my body. The scars are not that visble through the thick linen but it's unnerving nonetheless to be half-naked amongst half the court. By now I am aware that I have turned scarlet in embarassment. I stiffly move to lay next to the man I call 'husband', who I have still to look at. Was he as nervous as I was? Did he, like me not want to be in this situation either?
"Leave us." his familiar strong accent took me out of trance. To my surprise when one of the gentlemen started to protest, Francis gave him a scalding look. Soon the people filed out of room. "Don't worry, I'm not interested in touching you." I stared at him like he'd grown another head. He wasn't? "But, it is my duty as a king to provide my country with a duc d'orlean. So, I'll try to make it good for you too." It felt like I couldn't comprehend what he was saying even though I could listen clearly what he said. Of course he would have to do this, why had I gotten my hopes up? I tried to look anywhere but him as his lips crashed into mine. 'Help me through this, mother.' I begged but there was no response this time, not even the mirthful laughter.
I didn't sleep that night after he had finished. The feel of his skin so intimately against mine was foreign, when he'd enetered me I had nearly cried out in pain. My eyes still filled with tears, I shifted to face the wall instead of his toned body. I touched the sore part of my neck had kissed, or rather bit, me. I may have not enjoyed the act but his hard kisses had acted as a comforting gesture. Whether he intended to soothe me or cause more pain, I could not tell.
'I guess it was not totally foul for a first.' I thought but corrected myself because I truly intended to avoid doing this ever again. I smiled picturing me fighting the man next to me, as if I'd ever be victorous from that battle. Smiling, tiredness took me into darkness.
Francis' POV
The sky was dimly lit when I woke the next day. The night had been uncomfortable at best. I had never shared bed with a woman I didn't know well. This had been different. She shifts around the bed in my left. She's facing the other side but the morning light has lit her chiseled face. Something sparkles in the light, something that suspiciously looks like tears. Had I hurt her? Good. She needed to learn I wasn't going to be the gentle lover that women ususally expected in their husbands.
The English Princess was nothing like Claude. While she had dark features and pale face, this girl had gold, nearly white hair and cold grey eyes that if looked into too long, would engulf you into its depth. Her scars would be unappealing to most men but it was a sign that she wasn't perfect to me. She was quite far from perfect really and her simple looks didn't help her either. If anything made her stand out was her hair and those eyes of her.
I must be quite mad to be appreciating this unwanted wife of mine but, maybe because of the tired state I was in, I decided that given time, I could get to like this english princess someday.
Just then Elizabeth smiles into the wall, it is the most breath-taking and rememberable thing I have come across.
Elizabeth's POV
It's the last day I'll get to spend with the english party that had come for my royal wedding. I have still to meet my sister-in-law, Marguerite of Navarre as she is visiting her daughter and away from the court.
The morning I spend with Mary, Meg and Anne, exploring the french royal gardens. Little Mary, my favourite and only niece giggles as I chase her across the secluded close that we had discovered in our adventure. It is fairly warm and most of the french ladies are out in the sun. They look apalled at their new queen and her niece's behaviour. Queen Katharine only smiles brightly as she sits under the canopy set for the royal family and abserves her sister-in-law and daughter.
"She should not be chasing a three-year-old in the gardens. She's a Queen now." I hear my brother hiss from a distance. My mood drops considerably when I hear him complain.
"Oh, Henry! Stop acting like a child and talk to her already. We all know the true reason behind your sudden complacent nature." my sister-in-law says, leaving me confused.
That evening when the royal family is about to leave for Calais, I get a messenger from my brother requesting an urgent meeting with my brother at the stables. I frown at hearing this, what's the King of England doing in the stables?
"Come look at this, Lisbeth." I hear his voice from the farcorner of the stable and follow it. Only to find him feeding his destrier, Swift, who we had named together as children. I am shocked to find my brother the king feeding his horse in the french king's stables. It reminds me of our carefree days in Richmond when father was too busy with the country's affairs to keep an eye on us.
"The old thing's still kicking." I observe to which Henry smiles cryptically.
"T'is not the same animal, sister. Meet Romulus, son of Swift the destrier." I haven't seen my brother be himself for awhile so I laugh softly at his childish antics.
"Didn't I have a jennet called Romulus that was taken from me because-"
"You had refused to listen to my orders thinking I was the same old Harry when I became king." he completed, a guilt-ridden expression hung on his face. "I've been a bad brother to you two girls, I have realized this now. And I wish I could turn time back and stop myself from ever agreeing to this but I can't. I can only wish that your time with the french bastard would be peaceful. It seems this friendship between your husband-" he flinched, "and I would not last long." I felt my anger boil at his words. He had more than a year to take back his decision and now he sees his error when it's too late to go back.
"If you expect me to forgive you for what you have done to my life than I assure you, you will not find it with me." I truthfully told him, trying to keep in the tears that threatened to spill.
"I expected much." he smiled weakly. "Romulus has been my companion for three years now, I live him in your care." with that he left.
I was slightly dissapointed with Harry's weird attempt of a farewell gesture. Soothing Romulus with my hands, I realized he still hadn't said sorry.
Soon, it was time for the royal party to depart. I hugged my little niece and gave her a mini potrait of mine for her to remember. Katherine and I silently agreed to keep in touch before embracing as sisters. Quieting all fifteen of my ladies, who were sobbing loudly, I gave them a last words of farewell among them is my cousin Meg. My brother had already left early with the king, my husband for the port. It was hard to part with the last comfort I had in this country.
It was cruel. Why had I been taken away from my home to marry a stranger? Was it all fate or force of my brother's hand? Would I ever be content to be known as the Queen of France? More importantly, will I be find happiness with Francis? The questions roamed in my head.
"I'll miss you." my calm stature nearly faltered when I came to bid my elder sister goodbye. Swallowing the growing lump, we both squeezed each other's hand, as if trying to pinching ourselves awake from a dream. But no such thing happened and with a ceremonial between two royal members, they said their farewell.
'Is this the last time I see them?' I asked.
'No, the lioness shall return to her people once more before...' the voice faded without completing the sentence. 'Before what?' I wondered.
17th June 1519, Chateau d'Amboise
A day had passed since the departure of the English party. The ones to stay behind from the group were Anne and Lady Devereux, to serve me as my ladies-in-waiting. All the other ladies were french and most were fascinated with everything I had to stay even if they didn't know what 'The Republic' tells of society, they listened intently. One of them was the blonde who had been brought to her service by Lord Norfolk, a niece of his called Mary Boleyn. The only other who was interested in my babble was a lady by the name of Francoise de Foix, a lean pretty little thing, who listened with intent.
It was already getting dark when I had finished reading the book. The dinner was a private event unlike the previous few nights with Francis, whose eyes were dwindling more to my ladies then his food. Sighing irritably, I proceeded to stab my fish, occasionally taking a bite or two. 'Soon he'll take one of them as his mistress, men are too predictable.'
When night came and it was time for bed, the ladies washed me with fresh water before wrapping in scented towel. They put me in scented nightgown when the water dries off and braid my hair while complementing on the paleness of it. They chatter and laugh in their native tongue as they do so. Like the previous night, the king's groomsmen come to take me.
Lady Devereux leaves me with my french husband. The same routine takes place that night as well with me falling to sleep with tiredness at the end.
A/N:- Hi, thanks for reading my story.
1) As I mentioned before Francis is OOC. Um, introducing Louise of Savoy was difficult but I did it, yay to me. She's a bit OOC too. You don't get to see Anne Boleyn and Diane de Poiters yet because, the first is with Marguerite while the other is the caretaker of Francis' children who aren't in court yet.
2) I'm not comfortable writing M-rated stuff so yeah I just skipped it. This story will have about twelve or more chapters, it's just a short story not a long trilogy.
3) Kisses to PrinceBrennonTudor for reviewing.
Signing off, R.