"Do you promise?" The eight year old Queen whispers, leaning up onto her tip toes to whisper into the Dauphin's ear as they awaited their introduction to the ball. "Really, promise to not let go all evening?" She wiggles their intertwined hands for effect.
On any other day, Francis would have hissed in disgust at holding Mary's hand (he's far too old to be holding Mama's or the Nannies hands, don't you know?) but this day he understands Mary's fear. His father is hosting Mary's uncle and cousin, the famed and feared King Henry of England, and his heir, the Crown Prince Edward. And even the seven year old Dauphin knows what kinds of hell Henry the eighth of England put his future wife and her family through.
"Of course, Mary." he rubs his thumb over her small knuckles, feeling her rings across her little fingers and how much her palm sweats with anxiety. "I'll keep you safe, you know that, hmm? Like France keeps Scotland safe, I keep you safe."
"It's just, seeing him here, where I'm supposed to be safe from him, it's horrible. The way he looks at me, like I'm a piece of meat he wants to devour, like his greatest wish is my death, I can't stand having him here."
"It's only for a week, Mary. Three days have already gone by." The Dauphin of France says. "He's only here to make a treaty, he and Papa are already working on it."
She can't reply, because the doors open for them and they have to walk through.
The herald's voice booms.
"Introducing His Royal Highness, Francois of the house of Valois-Angouleme, Duke de Anjou, Crown Prince of France. Introducing his betrothed, Her Majesty, Mary of the clan Stuart and the house De Guise, Queen Regnant of Scotland and it's isles, Duchess of Edinburgh in her own right."
All eyes fall onto the young royal couple, and Mary swallows thickly as they make their usual walk over to Henry's throne in the banquet hall. Francis bows, while Mary curtseys with her head held high. Francis' father inclines his head in her direction, and she licks her lips nervously, eyes flashing towards the King of England.
He's old, large and wrinkled from his years upon the throne. His clothes are large, the crown sparkling as well as his livery collar. And his heir is anything but, young and blonde -ironically so, Mary thinks- with his eyes that have the same look in them as his fathers' do. They both stare at her, and Mary fights the urge to run as she makes her way to the seats that they always occupy at banquets such as this. Henry in the centre, Catherine on his right, Francis on his left, and Mary next to him.
Music plays, and food is served to the nobility of the court and their English guests
"King Henry." The English King saunters up to the French, and Mary feels the venison and rosemary oiled potatoes churn in her stomach, and she sips more wine that all of a sudden tastes sour in her goblet.
The two Kings named Henry observe each other for a few moments, both tall and regal and larger than life, although Mary's foster father is younger and more imposing. But that doesn't mean that the English is any less frightening and unnerving with the way he eyes and schemes and will burn the world for what he wants.
"Yes, Majesty?"
"To celebrate our blossoming treaty, I propose the future of our realms seal this deal." He waves a hand, and young Edward walks over. He's small, young, almost sickly in his nature, and Mary is instantly nervous once again.
"By what means, your grace?"
"I propose my niece graces my son with a dance. After all, she is the Queen of Scots, and should your plans come to fruition, she will be Queen of France. Should the future Queen of two countries not grace her cousin with a dance?"
Mary swallows thickly, her hand attaching to Francis' under the table. Her eyes are wide as she stares at her foster father as he takes a moment to reply.
Please say no, please say no.
"Of course."
Damn him.
Mary knows she can't humiliate the pair of Kings in front of one's entourage and anothers entire court, no matter how much she wants to run and hide from these two men who are still looking at her like a hog they're just about to spear. So, she slowly slides her hand out of Francis' and stands tall out of her chair, beginning to walk past the guests to get to her apparent dance partner.
"Music, please." The English King waves a hand, and Mary swallows nervously as she attaches her hand to her cousins', his hands are small and clammy, and she has to fight the urge to look over at Francis as they begin a Viennese Waltz.
With every twist and turn, Mary can feel the eyes burning into her back. The French King Henry and Francis, stern and protective, and both King and heir have to fist their hands into balls underneath the table, for they both know that appearances, especially with the English King, mean more than anything. Henry, for one, clearly worries that his ticket to England and his surrogate daughter is being stolen away by her once upon a time fiancée, and his greedy, mad father who has put the King of France and Queen of Scots through far too much bloodshed and war.
Francis hates this strange English boy, lanky and sickly and wholly underprepared for his imminent rule. For not only his English blood, but for the way he holds and touches Francis' fiancée, for the way this bogy and his father frighten his brave Mary, the small Reignette of the French court who will promise England to them when they wed. He knows it, they all know it, it's why the English are here. A last ditch attempt as the old lion roars once more and plays one of his last hands of cards. Because after all, if a threat to the English throne is wed to the future English King, she will not provide France or Spain an heir with a strong claim to the throne, with two armies at their backs.
Catherine stares with wide eyes at the children. On one hand, she is happy to see a potential match between the girl who is just as much as her rival as Madame de Portiers, to get her and her grubby little ladies away from French soil and the French heir. So her golden child's love will finally slip from the wild girl and towards his devoted mother, and all will be well again. On the other hand, she knows that in the long term, this match will be a disaster for her family, for if Mary becomes Queen of England, her ire may turn to France with her treatment over the past few years, and with how much of France is English occupied, it is a risk Catherine cannot take, for her sons' safety as well as her own. Henry can go to hell, with his whore and their bastard, but not her beautiful boys and lovely girls.
The entire court and their visitors clap as the royal children of Britain finish their dance, and Mary breathes in, calming now that her dance with her devil is finally over. She keeps her eyes upon Prince Edward's own, mindful of her own emissary staring at them with just as much fury as Francis does, and slowly slides into a curtsey. Edward bows, and they part as he kisses her hand, walking back to their seats. Court claps, and Mary feels a shiver run down her spine when she sees that the English still stare at her like hunters seeing a fresh deer in the woods.
She returns to Francis' side, extending her cup to her great uncle in toast, before slipping the wine down her throat, Francis' hot hand immediately wrapping around her own.
She's never belonged to Francis, just as Scotland will never belong to France. But belonging with him is a different story all together, and one day she must hope that they will look at the English just as they look at her.
And one day, the she-wolf of the north will rip the throat out of the English lion, and she will wear Henry's crown atop her head. No matter what the cost may be.
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I'm back!
Sorry for the break, writers block is the worst, even in this little oneshot book. But your girl finally has access to s1 of this silly show, so I'm hoping to finally write a bit more over the next few weeks.
Comment please!
YOU ARE READING
You Are My Light Part II
Historical Fiction-Reign Oneshots/Taking Requests- The world can be dark, Mary, and uncertain and cruel. The only thing that matters is that we face it together. No matter what happens, you are my light. Part 2! -Read TEML first!-
