"It's beautiful." Carefully, Mary reached out to touch the delicate structure in front of her, as if the gold would crumble beneath her fingers. Francis smiled. "I like it, too. It's even more beautiful than the king's crown. And you are more beautiful than I." He blushed as Mary started giggling. "Thank you." Then she became serious – she often did, as Francis had noticed in the past days. Mary of Scotland had a smile as bright as the sun, but there always seemed to be clouds nearby, ready to darken the light. "I wonder if it's not too heavy for me. I've also got the crown of Scotland, after all."
Francis frowned. "But surely not at the same time. That would look s…strange." He had meant to say "stupid" but of course, he could not talk like this to a queen. His mother and even his father had told him that very earnestly.
Mary quickly smiled again but Francis noted that it wasn't as bright as before. "Yes, it would."
"Francis! Francis, where are-" He winced as his mother rushed in. "I sent three men searching for you, where have you been? What are you doing here?"
Francis tensed. He hated it when his mother was like this, when she treated him like a child around Mary. Didn't she see he was about to become a king? He could take care of himself, surely, in his own castle.
"I was just…"
"It was my fault, I guess."
Suddenly, Francis felt close to tears. The only thing worse than his mother berating him in front of his future bride was Mary stepping in to save him. "I wanted to see the crown jewels of France, I was just curious, and…"
"And so I showed her to make her happy. And then we talked and forgot to come back", Francis finished, blushing even more than before when he heard his own voice. There was no dignity in it, no strength. Why did he always feel so weak around Mary and his mother?
"I see." Catherine smiled, not as radiant as the queen of Scotland but enough to make Francis feel better. "I am glad you get along so well, my dears. But now it is time to go to bed." She reached out to her son and suddenly, Mary's lips began to quiver. She turned her head away but Francis had already seen it, and though he didn't understand the reason it somehow terrified him to see her like that. "Are you alright?"
Mary swallowed. "Yes, your grace. Of course."
Your grace. Francis backed away, grateful for the soft hand of his mother. At least she wasn't angry like Mary – apparently, or why was she calling him "your grace" again?"
Catherine's glance wandered from one child to the other. "Do you miss your mother, Mary?" Her voice was softer as it had been with her son. "It is no shame to admit that."
Of course. Suddenly, Francis felt stupid. It was not about him, not at all.
Slowly, Mary nodded. Catherine let go of her son's hand to kneel down in front of her. "My poor girl."
Hesitantly but gladly, Mary went into the older queen's embrace for a long time. Francis stood next to them, patiently waiting, ready to protect them against whatever there was to come.