"Francis?" Mary asked, noticing her husband seemed to be a little off as she pulled their daughter from her breast. The child barely wined, simply accepted the pats to her back, before happily falling to sleep into the bassinet next to her older brother. The two babies -barely ten months between them- snoozed contently.
Mary acknowledged the fact that her husband hadn't answered her just yet, but couldn't pay it much mind until she knew that their priority -other than their countries- were safe. She looked over at her eldest, conceived just after that horrid ordeal with Count Vincent, borne when his father was away at Callais. And then her new baby, conceived just after Francis had returned from war and borne after the assault had caused her to go into early labour.
Things had been exhausting, since then. The Narciesse issue was subdued after Mary demanded that Francis take his head when he had told her what the man had been threatening, Catherine was subdued with the babies' having some kind of hold over her. Francis and Bash had found Severin and his accomplices and they had been hung, drawn, castrated and quartered in front of spectators, before their bodies were burned and their heads placed on spikes. Francis and Mary had more or less gotten through Mary's trauma after the assault. It had been months, and although she knew that that type of scar would never go away, she had a husband and two healthy children to provide respite to her.
Anne's labour had been awful. She had been over a month and a half early, the contractions were fast and hard and the labour horribly quickly. Quite unlike James' labour, which took almost three days and was horrendous. No, this time, Mary's body hadn't had time to slowly ease itself into making room for the baby to come out. She had lost so much blood that the physicians and midwives had feared for her life, even having the castle priest give her the last rights. That was not what Francis had thought he would return to the castle with Bash to.
It wasn't as though Anne had gotten it lightly, either. Her body had came out bruised and tiny from the premature birth, her wheezed breathing making it almost three weeks before the nannies declared her healthy enough to be introduced to court and be christened under her title.
In the eyes of France, the Princess' birth had been as a relief as the Dauphin's had been. It brought with it a new age of religious tolerance and health to France and her rulers. The winter months had been surprisingly kind to France. The working man's belly was full and the cough of gold was overflowing, partly thanks to the ceasefire between England and her counterpart and her allies. The frozen land had produced food and the animals had birthed multiples for feasting. With the months, France recovered, so did her Queen and the newest Princess. Anne was healthy, Mary was quickly recovering. She had yet to be with him yet, but there was plenty of time for that afterwards.
The final nail in the coffin of their trauma had been when Francis had laughed in the fact of Lady Amelie Narciesse. She had proposed herself a mistress for him at his wine tasting, but the King had refused her with not-so-nice words and went back to his throne where his Queen and heir awaited him. That and the issue of quiet banishment from French Court for Marie de Guise when she had tried to speed up her daughter and son in law in making another Prince for the succession or a Princess for the marriage market, by slipping something into her daughters' wine. Francis had figured out what had happened by the scent of the dewy cup, before he stormed out of his chambers to banish his mother in law and demanded she be gone by morning.
It had been the Prince of Conde's issue that they had been dealing with now. He had been most tenacious at trying to turn Mary from her husband, and they had finally found out why when the Navarrian King Antione had let slip to his brother that he had been behind the poisoning of King Henry. The King had been executed -with permission of the Queen of Navarre- whilst the Prince of Conde had been following the Queen of France around like a little puppy dog ever since. It did get irritating after a while, and Mary knew very well that the Prince of Conde had feelings for her. However, Queen Mary was willing to sacrifice a friendship for the safety of her marriage and her rule. She had organised the union between him and Lola, effectively rendering her and Jean null and void in her marriage. Jean wasn't Francis' eldest son, James was, and even though Francis had claimed him, he did have more of an eye for James and Anne than he did for Jean. It didn't take a genius to find out why.
Mary came back to the present moment, watching as both of her babies breathed, they both were warm. They would make it through another night in the tumultuous French Court. The ravenette Queen Consort and Regnant turned to her husband then. He leaned his hand upon the bed frame, his dark clothing making the skin of his hand and the back of his neck look a little paler than usual. She frowned, something was off. He always turned around and answered her in that soft, alluring, melodic voice "yes, Mary?" and would patiently wait until she stopped speaking again. But now he wasn't even turning his head to acknowledge her very existence.
"Francis," she stated, walking over towards her husband and placing a hand on his doublet. She felt the warm satin and embellishments on his back, but quickly pulled her hand away when she felt how warm he was, even through his clothing. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked, coming to his side, watching how drawn his expression was. She frowned, taking his hand in hers again.
"My love, what is it?" she asked, pulling some curls from his forehead. He didn't answer her still. She felt his skin, how incredibly warm his skin was. Her lips parted.
"Francis," she gasped. "Good God, you're with fever. Come, sit." she tried to get him onto their bed, but the King didn't move.
Until he did.
Mary shrieked as he suddenly plummeted to the ground, a weak hand trying to grasp at the curtain for support. She quickly following him onto the floor, guarding his precious head from hitting the floor and possibly splitting it open.
Mary cradled her husbands' body to her own, the way she holds her own children, but he didn't move or answer her cries for him. By now, both babies could sense what was happening and let out cries of displeasure. She trembled, screaming out for the guards, holding her husband to her, begging him to not let go and not to leave her.
The door opened, and the guards filled in, quickly followed by the Queen Mother. Catherine pulled Mary back as physicians filled the room after Francis had been lifted onto the bed. She held her back to the children and held her there, both worriedly watching as the King of France breathed his breaths that could very well be his last.
~~
Now I think that's much better, don't you? Second to last update for the day, so let a girl know what you think and leave some feedback. As of writing, you've got around an hour and twenty minutes so get any more requests up for the day so they can be hopefully written out tomorrow!
Love you all and stay safe!
me
:).
