Tampered Beauty

Reestablish

~Quick A/N, guys. Super sorry for the wait, had a massive bit of writers block and really had no idea what to write for Frary's next hart to hart without getting repetitive with what they were saying. But, I felt really bad by making you all wait in Wattpad Land, and wanted to get another chapter out ASAP so I tried my best! It's absolutely awful -but your girl is a perfectionist so most things I write I think could be better in some way- but I hope you all like it! Anyway, happy reading everybody!~

"Francis." Mary said. Inhaling sharply, the King of France turned around. He couldn't help but smile at the vision of grace in front of him.

She was so beautiful. A tight, white gown heavily covered in gems, beading and embroidery covered her new, motherly body. The straps were thin and clung to her shoulders, thick satin belt around her waist, holding up a simple over skirt and train, the front skirt of the under gown visible, sparkling in the dark light. A cape of white fur blanketed her otherwise bare arms, the ties tight around her throat. Her hair fell in waves, the back fastened in a loose braid, a small floral crown on her head, her neck and ears glittering with small jewels.

"Mary," he smiled, walking a few steps over to her.

"You sent word for me?" Mary asked, fiddling with her fingers. Goodness, this was awkward. They had drunkenly slept together just a few days previous, so to be standing in front of her husband and King made her so very uncomfortable.

"Yes," he stopped a few inches in front of her. "I hope you don't mind. I thought we should talk." Francis began, seeming to be more than a little nervous himself.

"No, I don't mind at all." Mary lied. "What about?" she asked, feeling rather like the five year old child addressing the long dead King Henry rather than a seventeen year old Empress addressing her King and husband.

"You, me." he began. "Our marriage, our rule." Francis paused. "All the events that have gone on since we were wed."

"We've spoken of most of what we must," Mary answered, rather formerly, straightening up to her full height, almost a defence mechanism, like his words could break down walls she had spent three years building.

"Yes, but now everything has changed. James, John, the night of the ball." Mary looked away at the mention of their drunken rendezvous. 

"I don't wish to speak of it." she swallowed. "There are no other ways of saying things that can make the words hurt less." she finished, rather cryptically.

"What do you mean?" he frowned.

"I don't want to speak of it. My words will hurt us both, and I have spent too long hurting. I don't want to hurt anymore." she sighed.

"No. We must be honest with each other. You told me yourself that you don't want to live how my mother lived for all those years. You must be honest with me." Francis prodded.

"Fine." she sighed. "Francis, that night-" Mary trailed off. "It was a mistake, okay? We shouldn't have done that." She looked away, not wanting to see the hurt on his face, the pain she knew would be there.

"I agree." he suddenly said. Mary's eyes snapped open. What did that mean? "It was too soon. We should have waited, not drunk so much. Talked, not pushed each other away." Francis finished. But, even with the words, Mary could see the hurt and sadness in his eyes. For some unknown reason, that hurt in a way she couldn't explain.

"What?" Mary frowned. She expected him to react in a different way, shock, anger, but not acceptance. Anything but acceptance.

"It was a mistake." he said, calm, but his eyes told another story. "Too soon, simply a search for physical pleasure and not the meeting of a husband and wife after so many years apart." he finished.