Tu Es Ma Lumière

14 - Comfort

(This one is gonna be slightly angtsy, but I think supportive Frary makes it deserve to be in this oneshot book rather than it's own entity. Read at your own risk, you have been warned.)

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The Queen of France sobbed upon the King's shoulder. Her sobs shook her little frame as it was bound in the arms of her King. She cried openly, her skin pale and warm as she lay in the arms of the one who'm she loved the most, but the one who had caused her such pain. Francis shushed his wife, moving his hands all around her back, feeling the soft expanse of cream chiffon and black lace. His fingers tangled in the long ravenette tresses. He pressed kisses onto her brow.

"Shh, don't apologise." he stated quietly, his own tears and pain put at bay for that of his wife. He heard her swallow thickly, her little body trembling with the force of her cries. Every now and then, her body would contract and she would curl into him tighter, sobbing with the strain of horrid cramps that fought to expel the child from within her. He comforted her as best he could, let her hold onto him as tight as she wanted to.

"I-I-" she cut herself off, whimpering into the crook of his neck. He leaned his face down, as if trying to protect her from nothing and everything at the same time. He kissed her cheek and tightened his embrace further. "I can't-" she moaned into his skin.

She couldn't believe this was happening again. She didn't even understand why it was happening. She had done everything right, followed Nostradamus' and Catherine's instructions to the letter, and yet she is left with bloody thighs and an empty womb once more? What had she done to deserve such punishment?

Francis said nothing, instead kissing her head. He hated to see her suffer in any circumstances, but this one he hated the most. This wasn't fair. This just wasn't fair. She didn't deserve this, neither of them did, but she especially.

Francis knew Mary tended to hide things from him whenever she wanted to protect him, and this was the physical consequence. The second year of their marriage had already been tainted by Lola and John and the attack just several months ago, yet this topped it all. He was well aware that having his bastard son who'm he fathered with her friend had hurt her, and she tended to hide her pain and true feelings from him in that aspect of their lives. Or stain, as she had told Kenna in one of their drunken nights together. The information had been passed on by Sebastian, but Francis didn't want to bring it up to his wife. He knew the toddler caused her pain, and it was only his duty of being a good father that made her suffer so. But perhaps, the duty of husbandhood would have to come above bastardy fatherhood, at least for the moment.

"I can't-" she whimpered again. He turned to her then, still wrapped up in each other's arms. Mary noted the strong curvature of his jaw and the -albeit dull- sparkle of his eyes and the pretty sheen of his golden spun of hair. He said nothing, remembering the time his bastard brother had told him about what his wife had let slip not long previous.

It had been just after the second miscarriage. She had turned to Kenna for comfort then. He had been gone with Sebastian when it happened, and the two husbands had found out about the bleeding almost a week after it happened. A horrid curse had inflicted upon the Valois' wives. Not infidelity or disavowment of their husbands, but miscarriage. Four days after the brothers' return, Kenna had lost her own child to miscarriage. She had turned to Mary then, curling her head upon Mary's folded legs as her Queen stroked her hair.

That night, the two had bonded over their sorrows with alcohol. The whiskey and wine had loosened their tongues. The Queen let slip over the stain of her life and marriage in the shape of her bastard step son and that child's mother. The Baroness de Portiers had informed her Queen of Sebastian's regular abandonment of his sometimes rather needy wife.

The next morning, rather hungover, Kenna hadn't realised that she'd let slip Mary's true feelings about John and Lola. The Queen played the facade of the accepting step mother and forgiving friend well. It had been kept up for months at that point, her mask so well made that it seemed like her regular face. Francis had even started to believe it, she portrayed it so well.

"I can't do this any more." Mary had cried into his shoulder. The caramel satin absorbed her tears well. He could feel her twisting it in her small hand, silently cursed the pain she felt. He felt it too, but it had nothing on Mary's own pain. This had been their third go around this horrid experience.

But he also knew how much she suffered because of John. She worried herself to death about procreation after he claimed the child. She worried she couldn't do it. Give them a child for them to be a family, give their countries a strong, male heir. Lola had managed it after just one rendezvous gone wrong, why did she deserve to have a healthy child, a son, whilst Mary herself remained childless? Mary had cried out to Kenna in their drunken night. Although he hadn't heard the drunk, agonised cry, he sure did feel like he did.

"It's okay." Francis soothed, kissing her face and hair, running his hands over her back.

"No!" she sobbed. "I can't do this anymore!" she proclaimed.

"Do what?" he asked quietly.

"See them every single day. I can't do it. I don't want to anymore." Mary sobbed.

He wasn't stupid enough to ask who.

"I'll move them." he promised. "You won't have to see either of them again."

Mary's sobs slowed. She looked up at him. "Really?" her voice cracked. His heart ached at the sight of her so upset and vulnerable. She looked like that little girl whom he had comforted upon her first birthday in France, where her mother forgot about her and sent her nothing, nor did she visit her. The little six year old had been in tears, missing her mother, even if she had been something of a cold shrew of a mother towards her only daughter.

"Of course." he promised, wishing she had told him about her true feelings about Lola and the child. Then or now, he didn't prefer. But he wanted her honesty, even if she thought that protecting him from it was the right way to go. "Nobody means more to me than you. If you want them to leave, you won't have to see them ever again, if it pleases."

"Francis, thank you." she gratefully accepted another kiss.

"I love you, and I can't stand to see you hurt."

"I love you." she quietly acquiesced, leaning her head down onto his chest.

"We'll get through this, okay? Have a child of our own."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

~~

Heyy!

I watched 2x04 yesterday, and couldn't get this possible scene out of my head for ages, so here ya go. I know I said this was a happy Frary, and in some ways, it is, but I thought that supportive Francis made up for the lack of happiness in this little oneshot.

Once again, feedback is essential on everything I write, not just one random chapter of a random story. I'm accepting prompts for this little book, as well as requests for my little fix-it's. I'm gonna try and do another today, maybe two. So keep your eyes pealed!

love,

me.

:)