You Are My Light Part II

260 - Fainting *Modern*

Mary looks over at the new King of France with concern, after hearing another pained sigh leave his lips. It's been a long day for them both, but him especially. Ever since Henry's shock abdication three months ago, the seventeen year old boy who wasn't even out of College when his father took off the crown, Francis had taken on all of his father's former duties and then some, and his physical health had obviously suffered for it. It as obvious to anybody who cared enough to look, for the fact that his skin had paled considerably and the bags underneath his eyes that screamed for rest and sleep had darkened by the day. He looks so sick, he looks so exhausted, but dutifully, Francis gets up from his bed at six in the morning each morning and continues his daily duties of Kingship and educational work, never retiring until well past twelve in the morning each morning. It wouldn't be like this forever, he hadn't even been corrinated yet, and the world was still spinning from a premature crown pass over, there was so much hecticness to work through before he could get a break, even though his body visibly screamed out for rest.

His hair lacked its brilliant shine, now he sported a mop of dull, volumeless ashy blonde wave, for he hadn't found a moment to bathe and wash the grease out of it in multiple days, it was obvious. His skin was no longer the prestene pale, it was now a chalky white, circles peeling from his hands and his jaw. His eyes, that had once glowed so brightly were now dark and despondent and glum. Mary couldn't even remember the last time he had properly smiled, it was always forced now, painful and false in front of a man four times his age. And his yawns were hidden in his wine glasses, it hurt her to see the brilliant, brave, quick young Prince who loved her wilt away into the exhausted King who had the weight of the world on his shoulders, making them slump in a way that's frightfully unkingly.

"Francis." Mary whispers in the dim light of the King's bedroom. He glances at her, but continues to rub the knots in the back of his neck. She sighs sadly at him, walking over slowly to gently unbutton his blazer and waistcoat, slowly slipping them from his shoulders and torso, leaving him in nothing but his white button down. "You have to rest, Darling, you're wilting away from me before my eyes." she whispers, wrapping her arms around his waist in a comforting embrace, she leans her head on his shoulder blades. He sighs, leaning back into her arms.

"Well, what can I do? Father decided that he didn't want the weight of the crown, and slammed it onto me instead." he hisses bitterly. Mary nods into his back. It seems it's not just her that holds contempt for Henry for pushing this onto her beautiful golden boy. For harming him like this. "I have to prepare for meetings with the Prime Minister, and how to keep the ambassador of Bohemia from finding out the truth of his sister's death. He's visiting in three days. And then I have to-"

"I know, my love. But you can't keep pulling days like this, look how sick you look." she sighs, running her hands up to rub at his shoulders and neck. He sighs, relaxing underneath her touch.

"What would I do without you?" he asks softly, turning around so he may look at his girlfriend of three years. She smiles at him, cupping his cheek in her hand.

"Well, it's a good thing you never have to worry about that then, hmm? And, look at the bright side, now you won't get stuck with Olivia D'Amencourt or Amelie de Narciesse, nobody gets to tell you who to take for a bride now, hmm? You are the King now, Francis." Mary tells him, remembering the angry voice of his mother when they were fourteen, when the purely innocent relationship between the Duchess of Moray and the Duke of Anjou came to light. She tried to rip them apart, send Mary back to Scotland permanently, thinking that the Marioness D'Amencourt would be a better fit for her son. And she was Italian, after all. Mary remembers with a light roll of her eyes. Nobody could rip she and Francis apart now.

"Yes, that's one of the better aspects. Trust me, some of them are far less enjoyable." he whispers with a small smile.

Mary gives him the ghost of one. "Come," she begins to pull him. "let's have a bath, yeah? Try and relieve you of some of your stress."

When they're done and Mary's pulled the plug, Francis walks towards his large bed wearing nothing but old black joggers and a black t shirt, his hair wet and upon his neck and shoulders. There had been no funny business today, unfortunately, Francis had been far too tired for any of that, and Mary spent a long time rubbing lavender and jasmine oils into his shoulders and neck, hoping that the heat of the water and the smell of the oils would send him to sleep. She had placed some coconut oil into his hair, hoping to bring some shine back into the curls she so loved, before the water turned a little too cold and she helped him out of the water, passing him a towel as she got dressed into some pyjamas she found in the cupboard.

When she comes into the room again, Francis does look better, but he looks worse, too. In a way that concerns her. Mary frowns at her boyfriend, walking over to him as he places a hand onto the wooden bedframe, his eyes glazed over.

"Francis?" she asks. "What is it?"

But he cannot answer, because in that moment, his knees buckle and his eyes roll back in his head, plummeting to the ground. Mary shrieks, alerting those behind the door, as she quickly wraps an arm around his neck, slumping to the floor as his entire body weight rests onto her.

"Francis? Francis!" Mary cries out, barely acknowledging the door slamming open and a few shocked gasps at the scene before them. "Francis, can you hear me? Francis!" she rubs her hands over his face and hair, pushing it out of his face as she looks into his pale face.

"Your Majesty!" 

Mary turns to the squire rushing towards them both. "Fetch a doctor for him right now! Go!" she instructs, licking her lips as she looks down at her boyfriend in her lap and arms again. "Shh, it's alright, I have you. It's alright, you're alright." Mary whispers, continuing to push the hair from his face, stroking his warm skin as he continued to not respond to her, his eyes still shut. Hrr stomach rolls and tears begin to fill her eyes as she notices the blood coming out of his ear, sticking to her hand that supports his head and neck. She bites her lip, continuing to whisper to him, comforting him even though he clearly couldn't hear her. Mary blocks out all of the people running around and yelling, just focusing on him.

"My god, Francis!"

"My boy!"

Mary looks up from his face at the familiar voices, watching Henry and Catherine enter the room at a brisk pace, Catherine lifting her night robe to run to her favourite child. They frantically ask her what happened, but Mary doesn't reply to them. One, she doesn't know how to speak in this moment, and if she did, she certainly wouldn't talk to the people, comfort the people, who did this to her Francis. Nothing makes sense to her anymore, everything is in slow motion, time passing so quickly and so slowly. All she can see is the blur of him in her vision, all she can hear is muffled voices like they're underwater, and her pulse echoes into her head. She swallows thickly, reaching to him, holding Francis tighter like some kind of protector from the evils of this world.

Henry picks him up and lays him on the bed as finally, three doctors rush into the room and see to the young King, and Mary manages to bring the scene and the wherewithal to whisper what happened to one of the physicians, and they get to work quickly, shoving an IV needle into his arm, while Catherine holds her back securely, letting the doctors work.

Finally, the melay is over, and the room empties. Mary insists everybody leaves the King to rest when it becomes established what the issue is and that a hospital isn't necessary. Severe exhaustion. Dehydration. Malnutrition. Low blood sugar. Severe inner ear infection. Glucose drip. Rehydration salts. Penicillin. 

He will live. He will be fine. All he needs is sleep and the IV bags to be replaced when they run out. He will be fine. He will be fine.

"Sweet dreams, my darling." Mary whispers to her boyfriend, snuggling up close to his chest, listening to the heart monitor and the few other machines he's hooked up to, that Catherine insisted upon. The steady beeping brings her comfort, and it makes her smile. "I won't leave you. Ever." she whispers into the darkness, reaching a hand to fix his hair. "I love you."