Bound

A Volta

At the command of the Queen, the small group of musicians began to play. The harsh note from the bagpipes pierced the air and developed a steady beat. For the first time in many a year Mary felt at home. A dormant part of her finally a woke after many years in slumber. This was where she belonged. She may be the Queen of France, but God had chosen her to be the Queen of Scotland and in that moment she vowed to herself she would be a Queen that no one would forget.

The dance floor was a swirl of colours: turquoise, mauve, burgundy, jade and so many more. James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell sauntered over and gave a deep bow of respect. As he rose their eyes met, His were the deepest blue she had ever seen. Mary felt that if she stared for long enough that she would drown in them. The moment was interrupted by a soft, deep voice.

"Would your majesty do me the honour of dancing with me?"
Mary glanced over to where Francis stood by the fire deeply engrossed in conversation with the French ambassador. To her it seemed as though he did not care. 'Very well then' she thought to herself 'two can play this game'. Mary graciously accepted the hand of the Earl and they approached the dance floor.

As was tradition when the Queen approached all fell silent. The young Scots couple took pride of place on the floor.
"Play a volta." Mary cried
Mary had heard that this was the favourites dance of Queen Elizabeth and her paramour Robert Dudley. Now she understood why. As the beat picked up Mary lost herself in the dance.

Everyone at court knew that this was a love dance and even a blind man could sense the chemistry between the couple on the floor. A murmur rose upon the crowd, all were commenting on the elegance and the grace of the couple and it would not be long before rumours began to spread.

Francis who had remained to oblivious to the events taking place around him, raised his head to see what all the commotion was about. When he looked at the way another man was dancing with Mary he felt and sense of rage rush through. If looks could kill both Mary and Bothwell would be dead. She was his and no one else could have her. Yet, it had been he who had destroyed the love they shared.

Despite the magic that surrounded her and Bothwell, Mary had noticed the way that francis was staring and all the courtiers were murmuring. In that moment she realised she could use this to her advantage. After all revenge is a dish best served cold!!