Tampered Beauty

Rehabilitation

"Kiss me," Francis grinned, twirling his bride around once more, bringing her close. She beamed back at him, her smile brighter than the sun that shone through the stained glass windows. Giggling, her hands threaded through his hair, bringing their lips together in an unbreakable lock, listening to all the laughter and music, feeling the feathers and petals fall down from the ceiling, but focusing on the feel of her husbands' lips against her.

Together, they would be unstoppable.

"Mary?" a voice asked.

Mary looked up from her perch on an overstuffed chair in the royal chambers, watching as the door opened and closed. The familiar voice stoked contrasting feelings of love and hatred in through her body, and she did nothing but close her book and place her goblet of wine on a nearby table. Footsteps could be heard on the hard, stone floor as the familiar loose gait came into view.

"Francis." she acknowledged. 

"You asked so speak with me?" he asked, voice guarded, not letting the hope he felt seep through the half dozen words.

"I did." she nodded once. "Sit," she nodded to a close by green and gold armchair. He did so, almost obediently.

"Lola told me of your conversation some days ago." Francis remarked.

"Yes, your mother told me." she nodded once, again. Suddenly acknowledging how awkward and hard this conversation would be, she filled the goblet with dark wine and looked over at her still very alive husband. "Drink?" she asked.

He nodded quickly. "That would be lovely." he replied, reaching for the goblet she reached over to him. He gulped hard, trying his best to to physically shudder as their fingertips brushed as he took the cold glass.

Her skin was like the softest silk as it glided over his own. His hands were hardened from the two years of physical work, a contrast from the soft skin of her own. He glanced at her hands as the left retreated from him. They were as small as ever, skin a paler porcelain than before, fingers long and bare, the only jewellery she wore was her signet ring on the pointer finger. Due to the lateness of the hour, she wasn't dressed up like an Empress, looking more like the Mary he loved and left rather than the powerful Empress who took her place.

She still looked so, so beautiful.

"What did the two of you speak of?" Mary asked.

"Lola and myself?" she nodded. "She was awfully upset about the way your confrontation ended, told me a few things you had said to her."

"I cannot say my words were not justified, nor will I apologise for them." she said. "However, you and I must speak of where we are, now."

"Of course," he nodded quickly, taking a few gulps of wine in quick succession.

"We had our opportunity to yell and scream a few days ago, but now I wish to talk as civilised adults."

"Yes, as would I." Mary could clearly hear the relief in his words, observed the way his body relaxed a little as he looked towards her again.

"So, where are we?" Mary asked. "From your perspective."

"I know that I have done you wrong, but if you gave me a chance to fix it, I would like to try and get to a place where we were years ago. I know it's going to take a while, and a lot, but I don't want this to break us."

"Alright,"

"Also, I know that you are far from trusting me, and I know you must resent me for my actions, and would like you to know that I don't expect to be immediately forgiven."