There was a loud exchanging of words outside the doors to Mary's chamber, a conversation that woke her up from her sleep. Trying to recognize those voices, Mary pushed herself up and groggily sat up as a wave of dizziness rushed to her head. Realizing that one of the voices belonged to her aged guard, Gaston, Mary rubbed the sleepiness off of her eyes and grabbed a mirror from her nightstand. "Guard, who goes there?" suddenly, the loud conversation had stopped and a noise of shuffling filled the air. "Guard?" deeming herself presentable and appropriate, Mary would have chosen to open the door herself had her head-ache disappeared.
"Majesty, your cousin, Henry Stuart, the Lord Darnley, is requesting for an audience claiming that he has a letter to deliver from your brother, the Earl of Moray," Gaston's voice was dripping with disbelief and distaste that Mary couldn't find fault in. The letters her brother, James, would be delivered through her other brother, Robert Stuart, Earl of Orkney, her Scottish ambassador to France. "Should I deny him his request, Majesty?" there was a harshness in the guard's voice that Mary almost pitied the receiving end.
"No, I would like to speak to my cousin," it was a bold decision that shocked even those outside as there was a moment of silence before the door was slowly opened. In front of her bed was a man she would have billed as an Englishman. His movement was very English, his fashion screamed Elizabethan Court. Had Mary knew no better, she would have called Henry out as an ambassador yet she saw through his Scottish accent and Stuart dark brown hair and eyes. The moment Henry had bowed and paid respect, she knew that the man in front of her was her cousin.
There, in front of her, stood a man who could stand to inherit both the thrones of Scotland and England.
"Majesty, I would like to thank you for your generosity on the matter about your audience," Henry raised his head to meet the eyes of his Queen as he bowed low. "I have to say, Queen Mary, we've much to discuss," Mary raised a brow as she propped herself up on the pillows of her bed. Seeing this, Henry's brows furrowed and stood up. "Is something not to your liking, Majesty?" a stoic and regal expression graced Mary's face as she held out her hand expectantly. Confusion was written all over Darnley's face he tried to think of something that displeased Mary.
"According to my guard, you are tasked by my dearest brother to deliver a letter into my hands and since you have not taken the initiative nor brought up the subject about a letter that could hold urgent matters about my nation, I will ask for you," Mary fixed herself on the bed and sat straighter before holding her hand out again. "Where is the letter my brother asked you to deliver to me?" trouble plagued his face as Henry opened his mouth several times to explain and yet not a single word was uttered. "Ah, I see," Mary eyed Darnley as a scoff escaped her lips. "You have lied to me, your sovereign monarch, claiming you have a letter about Scottish affairs. Most monarchs would have you imprisoned—others are not so generous and would consider it treason!" Darnley's eyes widened and approached the bed frame and knelt again.
"Majesty, with all due respect, I really was tasked by James Stuart to deliver a letter. I swear upon my immortal soul," she raised a brow as a grim line was seen on Mary's lips.
"So, what happened to the letter?" a sheepish tone filled the room.
"You see, Your Majesty, your husband stole it from me!"
The sound of the door clicking and metal tapping stirred Mary awake. The sound brought the consciousness back into her senses to notice the light that brought back color to her vision after a rather bland and dark slumber. It was, however, the tapping sound of familiar leather boots that shook the sleepiness off of her eyes, that brought a small smile to grace her lips, and for her to prop herself up and open her eyes only to see her husband removing his coat and vest.
"You're awake," a small smile replaced the shocked expression on Francis' face before he went into the covers of the bed and joined his wife, taking her petite frame into his arms. "Your temperature has lowered, that's good," he noted silently that Mary wouldn't have heard him had he been across the room and not with her in their bed. "And your face has regained color," Mary felt the cool tips of Francis' fingers on her skin as he tucked a stray stand of hair behind her ear. "Your fever will probably break by tonight or tomorrow's morn," Mary smiled as she re-positioned herself on the bed and laid her hand across Francis' chest, her hand above his heart. The familiar thump of his heart and his comforting body heat gave such security to Mary.
Looking up expectantly at Francis, Mary breathed in deep and slow, cherishing his scent and calming herself. "You're quite right, I'm feeling better already," Francis smiled and pressed a kiss on her temple and he closed his eyes and hummed a peaceful tune. "In fact, I feel like I'm well enough to join you for your banquet for the merchants from England," the smile from her husband's face had slowly faded away as his brows furrowed. Soon, Francis shook his head and stroke Mary's long hair.
"No, you should rest. Perhaps once the fortnight comes to pass, I'll give back the reins of your nation and let you handle them, my Queen," Mary gave out a humph. She believed that a compromise is not acceptable. "The merchants are quite demanding and I'm not so sure if I will be so willing to share my beautiful wife," a soft chuckle escaped Mary's lips before a serious look replaced a moment's laughter. She knew what she had to do, Mary knew that there is a person to be met with and she is not one to back away from her own priorities. "Besides, I'm considering passing up the event altogether," Francis dismissed the idea with a wave of the hand.
"Francis, I think I'm well enough to handle stuffy English merchants, even if one of those blasted men happens to be my cousin, Darnley," shock was written all over Francis' face as he turned to face his wife. "Oh, don't look so surprised—the maids have been quite preoccupied with their gossiping of a man of reasonable wealth and value, a man in line to the English and Scottish thrones, and most important of his traits, he's quite the catch of the eye," Mary remembered the events in her chambers as she fought off the dizziness and the black dots dancing around her vision while entertaining the Lord Darnley. "He's quite persistent on getting an audience with me, might I add," a soft groan escaped Francis' lips as he exhaled.
"I'm sorry, I've tried my best to make sure he doesn't get a chance at an audience—obviously, it's not enough—and now a rumor's gone rampant in the palace of how I'm going to run away from Court because of the new and demanding trade deals with England and the growing tension with King Phillip of Spain. . .probably some page who attended to my meeting with Bash this afternoon," Mary propped herself up and wove their fingers together, pressing a kiss on his knuckles.
"Then let me join you! Let's show them that the King and Queen of France will stand strong in the direction of tension and demanding deals—what better way to show them our strong will and determination than to put up a show of their monarchs standing strong in marital union and political alliance?" Mary could see the conflict inside of Francis' head. She could see how he weighs the consequences and the advantages of each option. "Let me stand by you as your wife, let me support you, Francis," a smile found its way unto his lips as Mary snuggled deep into the crook of Francis' arm.
"Alright, but the minute I see you faltering or wavering by the hallway, we're retiring for the evening," the ultimatum stood strong and rang in Mary's mind.
Walking was a bit of a lengthy process, but Mary managed with a great deal of discretion and acting. It was difficult, but she couldn't leave her husband to a pack of rapid wolves of the political chain. "Are you alright?" Francis tightened his grip on Mary's arm as she paced out and was lost in a moment of time. Dizziness was no foreigner to her when moving around. "Should I call for a servant?" turning around, he raised his hand and voice. "You there, boy—fetch a chair for the Queen!" after a moment of darkness, Mary suddenly found herself on a seat being fanned by a servant and served an iced drink by her husband.
She could hear the cursing under the King of France's breath.
"I should have never allowed this," Mary placed a hand on his cheek and smiled warmly.
"No, don't blame yourself, Francis," Mary felt the warmth of Francis hand as he covered her palm with his. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" Mary stood up despite the protests of the people around her. "We're here to put up a show and I won't retire until I show one to Darnley," although Francis was still worrying about his wife's condition, he couldn't helo but a feel his heart swell in pride. This is his selfless wife, he thought to himself as pressed a kiss on Mary's temple. "So you could accept the fact that I won't give up or we could clammer on and on the whole night," a small smile was placed on Mary's lips as Francis recognized that tone.
With a sigh, he held his hand out in front of Mary. "There is no use in arguing, I must admit," with a bright smile, Mary took his offer and raised herself to her feet and felt the happiest she has ever been this week. "It's about time I learn that my wife will eventually get things her way," a chuckle escaped Mary's lips as Francis looped her arm into his. Checking a wall clock near them as they walked towards the throne room, Francis clicked his tongue and Mary looked up to see why. "There is no use in prolonging the inevitable, anyway,"
"We'll show those nobles how wrong they are, how we'll stand strong togetyer against possible usurpers or head-strong kings of Spain!" Francis mocked a condescending look. Standing in front of the intimidating double doors, Mary glanced, her stares a bit wobbly, at Francis' face and caught his attention. "Are you ready for them?" Francis smiled warmly and lovingly at his wife.
"Only if you are, my love," he brought her hand into his lips and placed a chaste kiss. Leaning in to whisper in her ear, Mary closed her eyes. "Just tell me if you're hurting—tug on my arm to let me know," with a smile on her face, Mary nodded and soon, the wooden double doors were opened to reveal a small crowd of fifty, bowing to their every step towards their thrones.
"King Francis, Queen Mary!" in the corner of Mary's eyes, she saw Francis' smile as he greeted the man. "Thomas Howard, Majesty, the Duke of Norfolk sent on the behalf of Queen Elizabeth," Mary smiled at the man though her stomach churned at the scent of the wine from his clothes and goblet. "I apologize for the outfit and the dreadful scent, Your Majesties, a silly servant spilled wine on me," Francis nodded understandingly as he apologized on the behalf of the server when suddenly there was a tug on his arm.
"Well, you'll have to excuse us," the Duke bowed low as Francis lead Mary towards their thrones. "Only a few more steps," he encouraged her as Mary felt her knees wobble.
There was laughter in the halls and soon, silence. "Musicians! Give this banquet a joyful tune for the King and Queen to dance through!" Mary's face had paled as Francis' heart began to beat faster.