The Life Of A Queen

Chapter 13

The Queen was absolutely stunning. Was the first thing Francis thought as he saw her. Francis walked into Mary's chambers, where servants and her ladies were rushing around her, getting her ready for the coronation. Edward had died, holding his cousins hand, and when the funeral was arranged and done, it was time to coronation the Queen of Scotland, Ireland and Wales, making her the Queen of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales, uniting the countries under one rule, officially creating the United Kingdom of Great Britain and its isles.

His future bride was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever lay eyes on, even more so now. She wore a golden ball gown with a bardot cut and long sleeves, a tight bodice and a wide skirt and a train that trailed behind her for five feet. The colour of it was gold, matching her piercing gaze, but covered in red embroidery, almost completely covering the gold satin. As her chest and shoulders were exposed, she wore a gold collar around her neck, lining the hundreds of rubies that made up an undoubtedly heavy necklace. Gold chandeliers fell from her ears, the earrings being lined with diamonds before falling into a large ruby on both sides of her slim neck. Two hand harnesses fell from her wrists and clung to her middle finger, made up of triangles of small rubies held together by gold links. Her Scottish coronation ring clung to her left pointer finger, the Scottish signet on the right. Both were made of gold. The Irish and Welsh on the thumbs and little fingers. Her hair was straight and fell in long waves, all the way down her back, two braids from each side of her face pulled back and falling into a braid of it's own, held together by a few jewelled beads. Her makeup was simple, a soft dark line on either sides of her cheekbones and down her nose, a little brighter powder on her jaw, down the centre of her nose and near her eyes. Her beautiful golden eyes were lined with a soft ring of black, long black eyelashes standing out. Her full lips were a dark rose, the matt colour and bringing out the shape of them. Her waist was pulled in by a thin gold and ruby belt, a long red sheer veil with gold embroidery falling from her hair and sprawling a few feet past the end of her dress. The beauty she possessed was striking. It was clear it would only grow as she aged.

"You're beautiful," was the only thing he said. She smiled softly, turning to face him. She, now only five months from being of age to wed, made a smile tug at the corners of his lips.

"Thank you," was the only thing she said. He walked forwards and took her hand, the other cupping the left side of her neck.

"Truly," he said quietly, gazing into her eyes, "beautiful." he said. Her golden gaze softened as she stared into his sapphire one.

She placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling the fine velvet. Upon her request, he was dressed in the same colours as her. It made them seem very much a loving pair, just like they actually were, and had been for years.

"This is just like when we were children," he smiled softly. She replicated it, looking deep into his eyes. On his first birthday with her in France, they both dressed in matching outfits upon his request, making the perfect little couple. Every birthday and ball and celebration after that, they did the same thing. It grew them closer and showed their countries' solidarity.

"It is," she said quietly. "Thank you," she said, but they both knew it held a deeper meaning than because of the compliment. He'd been her rock and protector for years, the boy who had been groomed to be a king and her husband, the one she would spend the rest of her life with, the one who comforted her whenever somebody tried to take her life, the one who stroked her hair and sang her lullabies in his native tongue whenever she woke up from a nightmare or was grieving. The one who she took lessons with, rode horses with, arched and sword fought with, the one who brought her out of her shell and tamed her.

The thanks was more than for the compliment. It was for holding her as she cried for her mother whenever she had been taken from her. It was for kissing her wounds and wiping her blood whenever somebody harmed her. It was for calming her when a member of her country or her privy council irritated or aggravated her. It was for dancing with her at balls. It was for pushing possible mistresses away, going to her and only her. It was for growing with her. It was for teaching her and being taught by her. It was for making jokes and laughing in the middle of private lessons, archery or dance lessons. It was for waiting for her when she was gone. It was for crossing the seas for her whenever she needed him. It was for comforting and soothing her when somebody tried to take her life, for not leaving her when she had woken up. It was for cheering her as she grieved for her mother, not letting her be sad on Christmas or birthday celebrations. It was for being a child with her, growing into a teenager with her, growing into a monarch with her. It was for smiling at her whenever she was unsure. It was for holding her hand after she sent men away to battle. It was for getting her this far. It was for promising to be there, fully committed and equalled, for the rest of their lives. It was for making her smile and making her safe.