Morning Glory-Francis (Reign)

Chapter Eighty-One

The doors to the throne room swung open, and for a minute I didn't recognize the scene in front of me. Usually the halls of Fontainebleau were teeming with nobles, that hadn't changed, but there seemed to be a disproportionate number of brightly colored gowns.

My eyes were quickly drawn to the obvious focal point of the room, Francis, sitting on a throne, another one empty beside his. Quickly, my eyes examined the figures around him. Several young ladies swarmed his seat, leaning over him, chattering.

However a moment later as they noticed me it fell dead silent. Immediately, Francis shot up from his seat, to take a step towards me. But he faltered slightly when he noticed my hardened expression.

"This is not exactly the welcome back I had been expecting." I broke the silence, my tone stern. "I did not realize that in my absence, this court would be turned into a brothel." Without another word, I turned back around, black mourning skirts sweeping out behind me as I exited the throne room.

Huffing angrily in the relative privacy of the hallway, I began heading off to my room. Or I guess, our room. As I turned a corner, I heard a pair of footsteps exit the throne room behind me. Probably Francis. But then potentially not. The footsteps faded in the other direction.

Once I reached my chambers, I was surprised to not see any servant at the door, or Elisaor Natasha. Shrugging, I grabbed the handle and pulled open the door.

Inside, the room was unrecognizable. All the decorations had been pulled down, the bed stripped, armoires and bookshelves emptied. Slowly I walked around the room, confused as to where all of my belongings had disappeared to.

The door burst open. Natasha appeared.

"Anya!" She rushed towards me and embraced me. "I'm so sorry." She comforted me, rubbing my back.

"Natasha. It's good to see you." Tears bit at the back of my eyes, as I remembered why I had left in the first place once more. "Where are my things?" I cleared my throat, gesturing to the empty room.

"They have been moved to the Queen's chambers, Anya." She gestured towards the door. "I will take you there now."

"The Queen's chambers?" I questioned, as the two of us began walking through the corridors again. "Will I not be sharing chambers with my husband anymore?" I tried, and failed, to bite back the bitterness in my tone.

"It is customary for the Queen to have her own rooms. At least that is what I am told." Natasha stopped in front of a door that looked rather familiar. My mind momentarily wandered to the day I had first met Francis, while I was delivering a garment here. At the time these rooms belonged to Catherine. "Do you need assistance, Anya?" Natasha asked, opening the door for me.

"No that is alright, Natasha, thank you." I nodded to her before stepping inside. The door closed behind me.

The layout of the room was almost exactly the same as my old one, with all my same personal effects. Granted the windows were bigger and gave a full view of the gardens of Fontainebleau, and the floors were decorated with beautiful bits of marble. The one thing that was missing was Francis. Only my clothes were stored in the cabinets, none of Francis's books filled the shelves, none of his shirts were scattered over the changing screen.

Stepping deeper into the room, I sighed and headed over to the large bed. Pushing the covers back, I sat down on the mattress too tired to think about undressing.

My return to France had definitely not gone as planned. On the brightside, it seemed no one questioned Aleks' death, and was instead focused on their new King. The only thing I hadn't been expecting was the massive amount of whores who had flooded into court. It made my heart ache to think how many of them Francis had bedded before I had returned to France.

It was no wonder we had separate chambers now.

I know he had told me he would never take a mistress, but I had been naive think that would be true. God, the French were bizarre in their ways. And to think, it would only be a matter of time before one of those courtesans gave Francis a child. While I still sat alone in my own room, wondering if I'd ever get to be a mother.

A set of footsteps coming from farther back in my rooms startled me out of my thoughts. Standing up, immediately on guard, I grabbed a small knife out of the deep folds of my skirt and held it out in front of me.

A moment later, Francis emerged from the shadows, arms raised in surrender. He watched me cautiously, gauging me reaction. Huffing angrily, I tossed the dagger onto a small table and sat back on the bed, crossing my arms.

Francis kneeled down in front of me, placing his hands on my legs, forcing me to look at him. Looking into his eyes, I saw a mixture of emotions: love, fear, sadness, joy.

"Morning Glory," He whispered, pushing himself up towards me. Just as his nose brushed mine, I turned my head away and stood up, making him back away from me.

"What are you doing here?" I spat, walking over to my vanity, and taking my crown off my head.

"What do you mean, Morning Glory?" He asked, appearing in the mirror behind me.

"You know what I mean, Francis." Pushing my fingers through my hair, I pulled down its simple updo.

"You've been gone for weeks. I've been worried about you." I felt one of his hands slide around my hips, but I refused to lean into his touch.
"I thought you said no one else would ever be welcome in your bed" I dropped a few hair pins onto the table. "I didn't realize that same promise didn't stand when I was away."

"Morning Glory, please-" He leaned his face into my hair, but I cut him off, turning around to face him.

"How many of them did you fuck?"

"None of them." He whispered, pushing his forehead against mine, and nudging my nose gently. "No one else."

"Do you really expect me to believe that when there are a gaggle of whores draped over you in the throne room?"

"Yes, I do." Francis pulled away, his tone turning angry. "I expect you to believe it because I love you, Anya!" He shouted, slamming his fist down against the vanity next to me. I pushed myself up back against the edge of the table in slight fear. "Do you really think I would turn to another woman as soon as you were gone?"

Closing my eyes for a moment in shame, I dropped my chin to my chest. Overwhelmed with the emotions from the last few weeks, my eyes welled up again and the tears spilled over. Francis pulled me into his chest once more, and I didn't resist.