She screamed. She screamed louder than ever. She screamed, and screamed and screamed and screamed. It had gone on for hours upon hours. The sun had risen and set again. And still, nothing.
"Keep going, Majesty!" One of the midwives yelled. Her hand tightened around Francis', the fingers locking into a vise-like grip. His jaw set in discomfort and fear, and didn't speak. She seethed, hissing in inhales and exhales. Her other hand clamped around Kenna's. Her nails dug into her lady's skin. She let out a choked sob, inhaling shakily. Her chest heaved in gasps or son's. She couldn't quite tell.
"I know." Kenna murmured into her hair. "I know, but you have to keep going, Mary." she said.
"I-I can't." Mary proclaimed, her body convulsing in so much pain that it was so hard to even breathe, let alone talk. Her womb contracted, trying to force her child out into the world, but it didn't seem to be enough. "I can't." Mary clarified, mumbling out the words, her eyes closing in pure exhaustion.
"You can, Mary." Francis murmured into her hair. "You did this before, before with James. You can do it again. Mary, please. I know you can do it." he said, his words an odd mix of exhausted and full of anxiety.
"I can't." Mary insisted. "I-I can't." she sniffled, her eyes opening slowly.
"You can." Francis insisted.
Mary wailed once more, the pain returning in full force. She screamed, the pain so familiar and different at the same time. Her hands tightened around those she loved as her body ground down. She could feel the child move inside of her, but it didn't seem enough.
"You're close, your Majesty!" one of the matrons yelled from between her legs. "Your child is close! Just a few pushes more, Majesty!"
Her body sagged in the bed. The white silk shift she wore clung to her, sweat making the fabric stick. Her legs were covered in blood, the bed sheets too. It was all getting too much. Too much pain, too much exhaustion. Not enough air. Not enough time.
"I-I can't do this." the Empress murmured. "I can't."
"Mary, please. You can. I know you can!" Francis begged her, bringing her fingers to his lips in a bruising kiss. She gasped in a trifecta of breaths, the inhales loud.
"Can't." Mary mumbled, her eyes falling closed. Just a few more moments of resting. That's all she wanted. So why was it so hard to open her eyes again?
The darkness was so comforting. So inviting. No more pain or suffering or uncertainty. Just rest.
"Mary? Mary!"
She tried to see him again. She really, really tried.
But the darkness was too strong.
~~~
"King Henry! King Henry we must stop!" the young man on horseback cried. Their guide to that year's new years party -held by Mistress de Portiers was a marvellous chance for the French people to see their King and Queen and future King and Queen. Upon the orders of Queen Catherine, the latter's had been safely locked away at Court. The reason being that the young Dauphin had only just gotten over his weakness and friality. And the young future Dauphine had only just arrived from her homeland that spring. And Queen Catherine couldn't bare to think of the duo being hurt outside the castle walls - was not a competent man. He easily lost his way because of the several inches of now covering the French mountains in which they rid upon.
Upon his brown, tall mare, sat astride the King of France. He was bundled into a shapeless clump of brown fur, red velvet and gold embroidery. Henri yelled back at the young man.
YOU ARE READING
Tampered Beauty
Historical Fiction~Reign AU~ It's been two years since the death of King Henry, a year after the death of King Francis. French court thrives, however, with empire, a powerful, resilient regent and a healthy, young king. However, is everything as it seems with the dea...
