The Life Of A Queen

Chapter 6

He watched silently as his betrothed paced angrily in a large chamber of an English castle. His parents lay on the bed, whilst he was held tightly in the arms of his mother. She tended to be overprotective.
The young Queen was furious, a few fingers to her lips, scowling at the ground as she paced back and forth. Francis stared at her. Her Gaelic blood was showing through. She was fearless and wild, hating to be caged up and despising the obvious culprits. All who shared Gaelic blood shared these qualities. They all looked up as the door suddenly opened and in walked the king of England, Henry VIII.
He seemed amused by the display of temper by the wild Gael.
"It's been a while, child." was all he said. Mary scowled at him, eyes so dark.
"Let us go."
"Now, why would I do that? All that needs to be done is negotiation." he grinned.
"Diplomats couldn't suffice? You have to kidnap me, my betrothed and the monarchs of France?"
"You, yes. You escaped our grip many times. As for the French, and the Italian, simply collateral damage."
"Well, I'm here now. So, let the King, Queen and Dauphin leave." Mary commanded the ailing King.
"You are not in any position to negotiate. I am."
"What do you want? If it's what you always have wanted, it won't happen." Mary glared.
"Why would you think that, little one? I'm a King. I get what I want."
"And I'm a queen of three countries. One of which was yours and pledged undivided loyalty to me. I get what I want."
"Here's what I want. Get the French King to end your betrothal to the French boy, and marry my son, Edward. You would unite our countries, no more pain or fear."
"Pain and fear are long past, Englishman. You think my empire would unite with your country? They hate you. They hate every single Englishman who walked the earth. Why would I send them into revolt, to please the man who has put prices on my head and virtue? I think not. They will slaughter him before he has taken his second step on Gaelic soil, what makes you think they'll sit back and have an Englishman be their king?" Mary glared.
"You've got nerve, I will admit. But, that is going to change. You see, I realize what the past years have created. I realize what my failed attempts to wed you and my son, to gain your head on a spike, have created. So, there will be no physical harm until I get what I want. Mental harm, however, that is completely different?"
"What are you talking about?" Mary asked, disgusted. "You're going to mentally break me until I destroy my own countries and wed your ailing son? I don't think so."
"We'll see, majesty. But, you care for the French, correct? They have raised you and have a bond with the dauphin?"
"I do." was the short answer.
"Think of my words. Mental torture." he drew his sword.
Mary laughed. "You're going to torture the King and Queen of France, as well as my betrothed? I do believe that will lead to war with France, Italy, and Spain, seeing the bond the three countries have. In addition, France and Spain are united by the Catholicism, no matter if your daughter is married to him. And mine, in addition. You'll face international war, for what? A marriage that will get both of us killed? For a king, I see quite a few flaws in your logic." Mary smirked.
"We'll see about that," was the last thing he said, before leaving the room, his guards in tow.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Henry of France asked the young Queen.
"I do. Don't worry, we'll get out alive."
"What of physical injury?" Catherine asked, wide eyes, pulling Francis closer to her, much to his displeasure. He scowled in annoyance.
"I make no promises." her eyes widened more. "But I can guarantee none will die."
A few days had passed, with no appearance from the King, however, his guards stormed inside, making Francis jump, looking to his father, who stiffened at the sight of the Englishmen.
It was Mary who they lunged for. She was hauled to her feet, grey gown swooshing as she was yanked to her feet.
"Unhand me!" she yelled immediately, thrashing.
"Why would we do that, heretic?" the one on the left grinned. "Move. King's orders." she was forced to walk to the doorway.
"Where are you taking her?!" Henry yelled after them, attempting to lunge for the girl, but was pushed back.
"To meet her fate!" the one on the right laughed, pulling the thrashing Queen out of the room, the door slamming behind them. Mary was forced onto the full courtyard, where she was held tightly, still yanking in earnest.
"No." was what she said, her elder half brother being pulled onto the stage, wearing but leather trousers and a tunic, arms bound behind him by thick rope. The Queen thrashed more. "James."
"You are guilty of high treason against his majesty, King Henry of England. Do you have any last words as you stand before your King and your God?" was said by a squire.
"Henry is no king of mine. My sister will rise and rise, you will never take her down." was the only thing James said. Mary's mouth opened, suddenly unable to breathe as he was lead over to the chopping block by the back of the neck. Her eyes filled with tears as she started thrashing again, vigorously trying to get free from the bounds on her arms, watching helplessly as he knelled down in front of the block.
"Let him go! You can't do this!"
James smiled at her through teary eyes, whispered that he loved her, before leaning forwards and down. Her mouth opened and she thrashed more, desperate to get free, to free him. But, the guards holding her just chuckled and held her tightly, forcing her to watch the execution.
"No! No!"
Mary squeezed her eyes shut as she axe started to move upwards, allowing a small whimper as the horrible noise echoed through the courtyard. She was forced to look upon the decapitated corpse of her half brother.
Anger surged through her, she turned backwards and saw the smug King, anger in her eyes, dry tears on her cheeks and in her eyes. She seethed at the King, thrashing towards him, jaw set tight, before he turned and walked away, the young queen being forced back into the captivity chambers.
She was thrown into the room as the door closed. She caught herself, immediately turning and banging against the door, much to the surprise of the King, Queen and Dauphin of France.
"Let me out! Let me out!" she yelled.
"Mary!" Henry rushed towards her and brought her from the door, turning her around and dropping to her height. Her cheeks were wet from tears, eyes a storm of emotions, long raven hair messy and disheveled, her dress the same. He frowned.
Seeing the man who basically raised her brought out the emotions that had been pushed away. Granted, he wasn't around much, but he was much more of a father than she'd ever had.
Her brother was dead. They killed her brother. "What happened? What did they do?"
"James," she sobbed. "They killed him! They killed my brother!" she sobbed.
Before the French king could answer, the English king burst through the doors. Mary felt anger course through her veins. Her brother was dead because of the erratic king.
"You! You did this!" it seemed like she would attack the king, but Henry knew that wouldn't end well for either of them, so he held her back and pushed her behind him.
"Let's see how long you can last, without giving me what I want, and what I will have." he chuckled, leaving the room again.
Mary sniffled as Henry turned to her again.
"It's all right, it's going to be all right." she nodded and swallowed down her emotions and tears.
"We have to get out of here,"
"Of course, but how?" Catherine asked from across the room.
"This castle is built by Mary's ancestors, surely they're built like the ones in your homeland. They must have some secret doors, you must know roughly where they would be."

"I do. When it's dark, the east wing, where we are, is less defended. If we can get out and go down three corridors, there's a secret door that leads to the stables. If we get there and find some horses, we can escape to the border." Mary sniffled.
"Until sundown, then."
"Until sundown."
Mary listened silently to the pattern of footsteps, trying hard to figure out when the coast would be most clear for them to escape. The emotions had been pushed away and were now replaced with a deadly sense of vengeance. She'd avenge her brother. It was her duty. The pattern of various guards' footsteps was thankfully not that hard to figure out and remember, for they would run when the footsteps were at their quietest.
She held a candle to her face, seeing the tiny holes that slowly started appearing in the mortar when heat was applied. She saw the arm of the guard that was stationed by their room. If they could get some kind of gas there, to put him to sleep, or neutralize him enough, then the plan would be in motion.
"Henry, I can't do it. Think of how angry they'll be once they find out we're gone." Catherine worried to her husband, fingering her son's blonde curls as he sat on the bed that her standing legs rested on. She, who had always been overprotective of her golden child, had long since pulled him to her side, forcing the side of his head into her red and gold covered side, holding him to her harshly.
"We'll be gone long before they do. Mary saw the outside of the building, she knows the route. She recognizes the weaknesses that this castle has, and we can escape to the border on horseback, then we'll reign hell on them." Henry said firmly, tightening his cloak.
"What if it doesn't work? What if there's no secret door? What then? What becomes of us? Of Francis?"
"This castle used to lay on the border towns of England and Scotland, correct, Mary?" he asked from the opposite side of the room.
"Correct," came the soft response, her mind focused on concentrating and picturing the route in her head.
"The Scots almost always claimed the border towns as their own, so this castle used to belong to you? Under your mothers' brief regency? Or Lord Aaran's?"
"Yes." was the quiet response.
"Henry took this castle after once again trying to marry her to Edward, his own son. He resides here as a statement, but it is rightfully Scottish property. Mary knows this castle, knows it's weaknesses and strengths. Stuart and Tudor ancestors build castles in similar ways. We'll be safe."
"And if we trust an eight year old child with the lives of a king, queen and heir of the second most powerful country in the world, what if the child is wrong? What if the doorway is blocked off? What if Henry knows she'd know the route? Would he let us go that easily? Let his most sought after prize go so easily?"
"Trust the young Queen, Catherine." was the only thing Henry said, before a loud collapsing sounded from the corridor, and the French turned to Mary, seeing her place the sword back into it's hollister.
"It's time. We need to move. Now."