Tampered Beauty

Diversion

Mary let out a groan, leaning her head on the dark oak table of her study. Everything was simply too much. Her world had done two one hundred and eighty degree turns in just under three years. Mary hated feeling out of control, and she felt nothing but out of control over these last few months. It was simply too much, too much to wrap her head around, making it nearly impossible to rule with a level mindset. The raven haired beauty let out another whimpered groan, her head starting to throb from the events of the last three months. 

First, she was thrust from a simple convent into the dangerous court of France. Then, her entire soul starts to darken, before her husband finally makes her pregnant and abandons her for two years to play house with his mistress and bastard child. He was legally declared dead, forcing her into a tumultuous marriage that had potential to grow into something more, before her first husband was magically resurrected from the grave and ruined everything she had grown in his absence. His treasonous lover and bastard child in towe, both having the potential to ruin her and her own son. 

"Mary," a voice said. Looking up, she saw Greer coming towards her. The fair haired beauty came closer, long blonde waves reaching the lower part of her dark blue and silver embellished gown. Easily the most loyal of her ladies, she slowly advanced to her Empress, holding a folded piece of parchment. She looked troubled, concerned even, as she reached out her arm to give her Empress and friend the update that had been far too late. Greer's eyes were squinted slightly, her brow furrowed, lips pulling down in a frown that didn't look at all natural on her face.

"What is it?" Mary asked, her own voice sounding like one of a stranger, exhaustion -physical and mental- clear in the words. Lack of sleep and constant work had taken it's tole upon her. Subjects were frantic, wondering how their previous Consort could have miraculously risen from the grave, whilst devout subjects anxiously awaited news on their Empress, seeing if she could face any sort of punishment from this new development. James had left with Darnley to go back to ruling Scotland in her stead, until her own imminent return to the land of her blood, not that of her childhood.

But her James, her beloved son, had taken a different approach to Francis' return. Whilst the first visit had gone better than expected, the  intelligent child's perceptiveness had seeped through, refusing to acknowledge his father unless his mother was in the room. It was almost as if he knew what had happened between the two of them, still refusing to fully accept his father to this day. What little bond they had was shattered when Francis brought him an item previously held by his other son, resulting in James not going near him or it, wailing until it was taken away.

It had been two weeks since the first visit, the nightly visits from King to heir had soured. James absolutely refused Francis holding him, only letting him get relatively close when his mother was at his side. Mary had been convinced that he could identify the other child's' sent, not taking to it as he had taken to her own. If Francis had seen his bastard son before the legitimate heir, James wouldn't go near him, but it had to be deeper than that. Try as he might, Francis was still a stranger to him, and the child didn't trust strangers. 

"It's from one of your working girls. The ones you sent to look over Francis." Greer clarified, settling down on one of the seats after Mary's nod. Said Empress sighed. It had been far too long since this was due, normal curiosity at seeing the information severely dampened by the fact she hadn't had an hour of rest in her horrendously busy day. James wouldn't settle because of Francis' impromptu visit the night before, not allowing his mother to take her eyes off him, and French Court had been in disarray thanks to the imminent legitimisation of the royal marriage.

"I see." Mary sighed, opening the parchment and reading the code she and her girls had established with relative ease, eyes skimming over the words quickly, before she let the parchment fly from her fingers to the cold table, resting her head and hands on it, another groan slipping from her lips.