She watches them intently, ignoring Catherine and Lola and Kenna. She doesn't blink when Catherine implies that Lola should join the hunt to jump right back into her husbands' bed. She doesn't blink when Lola tells the grandmother of her son that no woman, no girl, has a chance of getting closely intimate with the King of France. She just watches Narciesse present a little blonde Lady with a disgusting lack of shame. Presenting his own flesh and blood as if she is nothing more than a piece of meat for his own ambition. If she had any mark of respect left for Narciesse, it would be diminished.
She could forgive the Lady Amiele for this sense of whorism, for it was obvious that this was Narciesse's idea. However, as the day progressed, the girl snuck up upon her husband as he passed the throne room. He already looked uncomfortable in his furs that he hated wearing, but the girl didn't help matters at all. The Queen of France and Scotland watched as the girl fluttered her eyelashes and arch her back, making the most out of her low neckline. The lack of shame would have irritated her if she lowered herself to feel such things, it was rather laughable now. However, just because it was entertaining on a certain level, it was irritating on another.
Francis barely seemed uncomfortable, but yet again, ever since his fourteenth birthday, her husband had been dealing with inappropriate courtiers and courtesans. He must be used to it by now, however Mary knew the sudden onslaught of possible mistresses. Rumours of her husbands' estrangement were entertaining, for they were true to a degree, but not to the reason court believed. They thought that he had turned from her because of her lack of childbearing, they thought she turned from him because of his bastard child with her lady. They weren't true.
There was once a time that the King would ignore the woman, but he wasn't doing it now. The throne room was littered with men trying to present their women, daughters, nieces, sisters, to the King, as if they are a gift for the King, not people in their own right. She assumes it's a pretence of niceness or to keep in favour with the nobility, for her husband wasn't responding to Amelie's flirtation. He did seem uncomfortable to a degree, but it wasn't to the extent he had been in the past when women had flaunted themselves at him.
They were married. He loved her. He had helped her through the worst time in her life. She trusted him like no other, despite a few knocks on the way. So, when she saw Amelie Narciesse run her hand up Francis' arm, the Queen decided her time hiding in the shadows and observation was over. It was time to end her laughable attempt at seducing her husband.
Mary finally moved from the shadows, making the men and women bow as she walked past without a second look to them. She held her head high, her hands neatly folded against her abdomen. She set a demure smile upon her lips as Francis turned from the blonde to look at her. The way he completley ignored the little girl to focus on his wife almost made Mary feel bad for the little Lady. Almost.
"Francis, I've been looking for you." she smiled, as if the females of court hadn't been buzzing around him as if they were flies and he a large pot of honey. The girl was an afterthought to them both, and Mary proved it by slowly looking from her husband to the girl. Francis joined in by taking her hand and placing it in the crook of his arm. Mary moved her thumb against the soft material of his jacket, a move so insignificant, yet so intimate at the same time. "Oh, I'm sorry." she almost mocked. "I don't believe we've met." she stated.
The girl opened her mouth to reply, but Francis beat the woman to it, as if fearing she'd say something wrong. Mary moved her fingers over the soft material of his jacket again, the other hand still resting on her abdomen. "My love, this is Lady Amelie Narciesse." he introduced. The Queen watched in slight satisfaction as the girl dropped into a low curtsy. Mary bit the inside of her lip, trying not to smirk at the look of stunned shock upon the girl's face, before her eyes lowered and a flush appeared upon her cheeks. She obviously thought Mary wasn't going to interrupt them, but at least she knew her actions were wrong.
She waited a few moments for the girl to rise, giving herself the satisfaction of an attempted mistress being subservient to the Queen, and the almost mistress having a few moments to think about what she'd done, like a child put into the corner of the nursery.
Finally, she nodded to the girl, and the girl stood up straight. She kept her eyes downcast, not making eyes to the handsome blonde King anymore. She seemed to be intimidated by the Queen. That hadn't been her immediate intention, but it worked a treat nonetheless.
"Excuse me, Majesties, but I feel my Uncle calls for me." she muttered, dropping into a deep curtsy, before scurrying off towards Narciesse.
Francis chuckled and turned to his wife. "Thank you, she was stuck to me like honey." he complained slightly, wrapping his arms around her trim waist. Mary smiled up at him tiredly.
"You're the honey, they're the flies." she reminded him. He gave her a goofy grin and she smiled brightly at him.
"So you'll bat them all away?" he teased.
"Without question." she affirmed. He chuckled at her, before she took his cheeks in his hands and placed a sweet kiss onto his lips. She was well aware that this simple action would permanently bat away the flies, at least until all the attempted whores left court with their masters. The rumours of her husband's estrangement were simple nonsense. The main reason why they were even a thing was because Francis didn't sleep in the same room with her anymore, like he had done when they were first wed.
The reason for it was simple. The Queen Mother had banished Francis from his wife's rooms when they told her, claiming the Queen of France needed her rest and couldn't be disturbed. They didn't want a repeat of last time, had been her words, before pumping the Queen full of tonics to ensure her desired result. The King had been sleeping alone, but he had been contented to do so, for it wasn't due to the reason it had once been when he couldn't be in his wife's bed anymore. Marie de Guise's visit had done wonders for their relationship, surprisingly. With Conde now banished from France -he had once tried to kiss the Queen, leading to the irate Scot being the one to banish him- and Lola in basic hiding because of her rumours and scandal, their relationship had been nothing but positive.
Mary pulled away a little, resting her head in the crook of his neck, a small yawn escaping her lips. Francis felt the rush of air against his neck and he looked down at her, running his fingers over her flowy gown and corsetless waist. It was still as trim and tiny as ever.
"Is the child making you tired, still?" he asked her softly. Mary nodded into the crook of his neck.
"Yes, your mother says it's normal, however." she stated. He gave her a soft smile, pulling her back to cup her face, the other going down to her growing stomach. Rumours had circulated of this next pregnancy. They wondered if the Queen's womb had quickened, and how long it would take the King to stray when she swelled with child.
"Go back to our chambers to rest, I don't want you to suffer when you don't have to," he stated. She was showing now, almost five months, according to the court midwives. Time to keep it amongst them was running short, soon they would have to tell the world.
"No, honestly, I'm fine." she insisted, but the yawn that escaped her contradicted her words. He smiled at her fondly, stroking her face.
"No, you're not." he insisted, taking her wrists to move her to their chambers.
"Take me to bed your Majesty!" she leaned up to whisper the words into his ear, mocking the attempted mistresses of France without offending their masters. He laughed heartily, starting to pull her past the women and to their bed.
"I love you." he told her, situating her in their bed.
"Love you," she promised, already half asleep.
"I love you." he whispered, kneeling next to her, stroking her hair as she slept. He reached down to cup his hand against her baby bump. "I love you, too."
