Princess Isabella

Part 3

Mary jumped as the door to her study suddenly slammed open, the knob undoubtedly causing a large hole in the wall behind it. She gasped in surprise, dropping her quill back into the ink pot with a rather ungraceful nature. She watched a few drops fall from the small pot and onto the table, but paid it no mind. No, the only thing she paid mind to was the furious blonde King that stormed his way over towards her.

"Francis," she slowly stood up. "What is it? Why are you so angry?" she asked, placing a hand upon the small bulge of her four month old bump. His face was like thunder, showing off an anger so deep she hadn't even seen when they found out about Isabella and her case of death. And he had been furious then, furious enough that Mary feared for Jean's life.

"Did you do it?!" he demanded loudly. "Did you do it to Jean?!" he growled.

"Jean?" Mary asked, confused. "I don't know what you mean, what's happened to him?" she asked, genuinely confused. Of course, Mary hated the child for killing her own, but she would never harm him.

"Do not play stupid with me, Mary!" Francis snapped loudly. He took a step towards her, and Mary took another back, not used to seeing him so angry. He was seething, his body trembled with a fury so pure. "I know you had something to do with what happened!"

"What happened to him? Francis, please believe me, I have no idea what you're talking about!" Mary pleaded, taking a step towards him in an attempt to calm him down, but it only seemed to fuel the fire.

"The nurses came to his chambers to awake him for his supper and they found his bed empty! Empty and blood-soaked! Tell me, why you did it!"

"Did what?!" she snapped back. "I didn't even know you took him out of the dungeons, Francis! We've been preoccupied with telling the world about our baby and sorting potential marriage alliances for the child, that's all that I've been doing apart from ruling France and Scotland with you! I didn't do anything!" Mary snapped again.

"Do not lie to me! You've been holed up in these rooms for days, you've had various courtiers in and out the room. You're the only one with a motive!"

"A motive for what?!" she cried. "The only thing I've been doing is writing various letters to Scotland and our allies in England about the new baby, they are delivering them to me! You know full well the time it takes to send word so important. And with the transition of power between Elizabeth and I, we've been corresponding with courtiers all over England. You know how complicated that is, Francis!"

"My son's bed was found empty and bloody, now nobody can find him. We've been looking all around the grounds, for hours! And nothing! I know how you feel about him, and a part of me feels the name. He killed your daughter, so you wanted revenge! That's how you work, Mary! I know you!" he snapped.

"Are you accusing me or initiating the murder of a child, Francis?" she whispered. "I would never hurt him, even knowing what I do about what he did to our daughter. I would never harm a child, Francis! I thought you understood that when you claimed him and asked my blessing. No matter how much your son caused our marriage sway, I would never harm him!" Francis opened his mouth, but Mary beat him to it. She spoke softer in a way to try and diffuse the situation and this ridiculous argument that both confused and angered her. "Why would I? I would never see a child hurt, dead, after holding my own in my arms." she tried to soothe him, walking forward to grasp as her husbands' hand, to make him see sense, but it was fruitless. In fact, it was disastrous.

(Here comes the controversial part, guys. I warned you that it was gonna get messy.)

"Do not lie to me!" he yelled. And then, Francis did something he never thought he'd do. Something his wife never thought he'd do. Something his father, even though he hated his wife, never, ever did. Francis struck his wife.