Drowning: A Reign Fanfiction

Chapter 10

I stared out on the bedroom balcony in silence. Life? Death? For once, they felt like the same thing.

Days after our discussion on Conde and Elizabeth, we received news confirming their engagement. There would be a King of England. And if it was up to the majority of Protestants and my cousin, France would get a new king.

Conde.

Even now, his name tasted bitter in my mouth. Putrid. It was sickening to just entertain the memory of his letter.

He claimed he couldn't stay in court because he loved me; yet, he thinks marrying England and taking France is the solution? What delusion is he entertaining? This isn't a war on Francis or what he thought our lives could be. This is a war on me, my countries, my home, my family.

If he does take France, which he must do over Francis and I's dead bodies, the world will be a mighty stranger. What would France be without the Valois line? What civil war would break out in Scotland after word of the execution of their Queen?

As disturbing as the thoughts were, I had to admit I was curious.

Curious to a fault, perhaps, but still curious enough to plot and plan creative strategies to avoid the crisis at hand. It was safe to say I was failing successfully.

"Argh!"

Francis' fist slammed against his desk for the hundredth time that day.

"What is it?" My voice, which was already filled to the brim with stress and concern, cracked as I attempted to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

My eyes scanned the document on Francis' desk with the new details on Conde, but there was nothing new, nothing useful that we didn't already know. I knew that this, the knowledge of our pending, helpless doom, was what haunted Francis' eyes now.

We were mice trapped in a corner, and we had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Even if we didn't have troops stationed in Scotland, we wouldn't have the resources necessary to thwart an attack backed by England.

"Our spies spotted English troops in Amiens," Francis said with gritted teeth as he shoved the papers away from him.

My eyes dilated and widened in horror. "But that's a four day ride from here! And, Francis, Conde could be even closer to the palace than that!"

"I'm aware." He dragged his palm along his forehead, making an expression that could only be understood by those who personally knew the burden of being a monarch. "That's why I've scheduled an emergency family meeting this afternoon."

"You did what?!" I nearly shouted.

Francis sighed in exasperation.

"You know as well as I that it isn't safe for the royal family to remain in the palace when there is a known invasion in motion. Four days, Mary—it's all we have, and I'm holding onto that time like a lifeline."

Liquid glass filled my limps making every sound, every movement slow and cumbersome. My ears rang, and I struggled to process his words because if I did, I was certain I would collapse to the floor and cry.

"No," I said as water began to leak from my eyes. "Absolutely not."

"Mary." Francis' eyes softened. "This is the only way."

I closed my eyes as he cupped my cheek, and silent tears dripped down my face.
"I won't leave you!" I cried, pressing my face into his shoulder. "You can't make me!"

"So stubborn," he murmured fondly as he pressed his lips softly against my forehead.

It wasn't until I felt the drops of water touch my forehead that I realized Francis was crying. It wasn't hard or aggressive, and it wasn't sad or full of despair. His silent tears were simply a symbol of the deeper understanding between us that we may not see each other for a very long time.