Morning Glory-Francis (Reign)

Chapter Fifty-Four

Francis must have taken a detour instead of following my ladies and me back to my rooms, because he wasn't right behind us when we got there. The three of us entered and took seats around the fireplace.

Elisa and Natasha didn't speak, and for that I was thankful. My head was spinning with questions about the future, and I didn't really want to discuss it at the moment. Maybe when Francis got here.

Different possibilities were turning over so quickly in my head, I barely registered the knock on the door. Natasha got up to answer it, and a moment later, Francis walked in, a roll of paper held in his hand. When I didn't stand up from my seat to greet him, Francis moved over to me and knelt down in front of my chair. Elisa and Natasha quietly excused themselves.

"What are you thinking about?" Francis whispered, reaching up with one hand to gently caress the side of my face, from my temple to my chin.

"Everything." I let my own hand rest on his shoulder, my fingers curling around the ends of his hair.

"Tell me." Francis let his hand drop from my face, and leaned his cheek against my legs, moving into a more comfortable position on the floor.

"I want to give you something." My left hand joined my right in playing gently with Francis' hair.

"Morning Glory, you have already given me everything." Francis mumbled against my skirts.

"When we get married," I pressed forward, ignoring Francis' comment, and disregarding any possibility that we may not marry should Mary succeed in her newest bid for the French throne, "and you become the Tsar, I want to give you the Crown Matrimonial."

Though Francis wasn't really moving, I felt his body tense up.

"The Crown Matrimonial?" He shifted his head to look up at me. "Why? What about your brother?" Francis rested his elbows on the seat of my chair so he could wrap his arms around my waist.

"Aleks isn't getting any better. The physician's notes say he's improving, but I can tell that he's not. And if I die without any children, I want Russia to have someone to watch over her."

"That is not going to happen." Francis's tone was stern as he stood up. "Aleks will not die soon, and you and I will have children." He tilted my chin up to look at him. "I promise you, Morning Glory. You needn't have any fear." Bending at the waist, Francis pressed a chaste kiss on my lips.

The two of us were quiet for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other's company.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you at dinner." Francis murmured into my hair. "But you look absolutely stunning." I shivered slightly as his breath fanned over my ear and neck. "I have something for you as well." Francis reached down and picked up the roll of paper he had dropped on the floor. "My father and I drew it up while we were making our marriage contract."

Taking it from his hand, I unrolled it, my eyes quickly flickering over the words written on it.

"Francis, you can't give me this." I murmured, looking up at his blue eyes.

"Why not? You're giving it to me." He whispered back.

"But you have brothers. Who are more than capable of taking the throne should you die. You can't give me the crown matrimonial." I pushed the paper back into his hands.

"I want to make sure you would be okay if I wasn't here to protect you." Francis put the paper back into my hands.

"It would be suicide. France would never accept me as their queen without you." I stared down at the document with blank eyes.

"Do you think I could do any better in Russia without you?" Francis asked me, his tone suddenly harsh.

"You would have to do better. There would be no alternative." I shook my head trying to make him see reason. "France's line of succession is stable. Mine is not." Closing my eyes, I dropped the paper onto the seat next to me and leaned my head against his, bracing my hands on his shoulders. "Francis, I need this to work."

"I know, Morning Glory."

"I can't lose you. Russia can't lose you. France needs you." I pleaded with him.

"I just want to take care of you, Anya." I could feel his fingers gently tugging on one of the laces of my bodice.

"Francis." I mumbled, leaning forward more so our noses bumped into each other. He let out a sigh before his hands flattened out against my back, one wrapping around my waist, the other settling on the base of my neck as he pulled me off the chair, my weight settling on his lap.

"You really do look beautiful." Francis pulled back to look at me. As his eyes wandered over my face, I pulled the pins out of my hair, letting a few of my red curls drape over my shoulder. I leaned down a pressed a small kiss onto his lips before he turned his head and pressed his face into my neck.

"You haven't come back to my chambers." I opened my mouth to respond, but he beat me to it. "You don't need to apologize. I know it's too risky. But that doesn't mean I don't miss you at night." Another silence fell as we each remembered that night a few weeks ago when we made love. The night Francis asked me to marry him.

My eyes flickered down to the ring on my finger.

"Promise me we will get married." Francis's arms tightened around my waist.

"Morning Glory, I promise you the world."

"Even if we get married in a small church in the middle of nowhere with no one but a priest to see us, promise me you will marry me." I pulled myself closer to his body.

"And you'll be a seamstress and I, a bladesmith." Francis said back. "Without a crown on our heads or a care in the world. And we'll raise all our children on a small farm in the south."

"Sounds perfect."