Tu Es Ma Lumière

149 - Duty *Modern*

The room is cold. It's cavernous and it's anything but warm. The music is loud and the lights are low. His footsteps are silent, even though he wears the heaviest of shoes to make his way to his future bride. He keeps his eyes upon her, the beautiful blue orbs sharp and bright, easily finding his most prized possession. She was where she always felt most comfortable, free, herself. Her blades are sharp and she skates and flies all over the rink. Her spins are incomprehensible and incredible. Her fleecy tracksuit is white and bright, her hair so dark in comparison. She resembles an angel, lit by the roof lights, glowing with grandeur and grace and beauty that she will have to part with sooner rather than later.

"I thought I'd find you here." he calls out, stopping by the lower sets of seating in the former arena-turned private ice rink. He sits on the uncomfortable chairs, propping his feet up on the next row. Unable to help it, the blonde Prince holds his black velvet coat tighter to his chest, looking at her as she spins around quickly, startled. It'd been the first place he'd thought to look after they'd gotten summons from Adam and the news from the King himself. It was unfathomable that this would happen, although he wasn't sure why. Logically, this was the best thing for France and Britain. To be united under one rule, one just as legitimate as the other. Their first son would rule both, and there would be an age of peace neither of them would live to see.

But the way that Mary high tailed it out of the meeting room after getting the news told Francis that she wasn't happy with the proposition given to her by King Henry, her uncle. To live one step behind her future husband, to bare him child after child for France, the thing she had been trained to do since fetushood. But now, to take a crown for her own right, rule in her own right, something she had never, ever been trained to do. Only Francis had. And he had known in that moment, his future wife and Queen felt a fear deeper than any other she had felt before.

"Francis." she breathes, pressing a hand to her chest, startled. The music is loud, ceasing as she pulls a remote from her pocket and clicks a button. Another, the house lights are up. She skates towards him, awkwardly  walking up the stairs to sit next to him. "How did you-"

"Because I know you." he says with a small smile. "I know where you go when you're scared." the Dauphin of France finishes, the French Prince grabbing the Scottish Princess' hand. He looks at her deeply, demanding honesty through his eyes. "How're you doing, with everything." Francis asks.

Mary sighs, pulling her feet to drape over the other chairs. "I don't know. Confused, I suppose." she says, pushing dark hair from her shoulders. She looks at the rink again. "I just wasn't expecting my uncle to say that to me." she says, pushing her hair from her face again.

"What're you gonna do?" Francis asks. "You know how delighted Father was with the prospect." he pauses. "To have a Queen and a country, not just a Princess with incomprehensible amounts of money." he chuckles humorlessly. "As good as a father as he is, he can get a little mad with power."

"I know." she says. "I do. Trust me. And thinking about it, it would be the best thing for the future, after we get married next year." without realising it, their fingers tangle together. She still doesn't look at him, but the enormous diamond upon a bed of gold and gems sparkles on her hand. "But I don't know if I can. My cousin, Harry, he's a far better sight for the UK than me, I can admit it." Mary pauses again. "My entire life, I've been bread to marry you and give you kids and be an ambassador and do charity work. A Princess of Britain and Scotland, yes, but all we've ever thought of about our future was France. And nothing but France, the UK was never our responsibility, the most duty I've done to my country is go ahead with the engagement, but that was organised by our fathers before we even left the womb." Mary chuckles softly, looking at her future husband and King. "I don't get it, though." her words are soft. "Why now? After all this time, why now? The throne has never been on this part of the family, always belonging to an Uncle of mine. My father was a Prince, he would have been King if he was alive. My mother a Queen. I can't imagine it." the Scottish Princess pauses. Her hair lays upon the white tracksuit, the sheer black and whiteness of it all seems rather ironic in this situation. 

Francis says nothing, deciding that it was better to let his future wife ramble and talk than it would be to converse with her. Being with her, holding her hands, supporting her, that was enough.

"I suppose it's good that George gave me a choice. Harry's not got that. All of my cousins from uncle George have refused the throne, as you know. So, it's either him or me." she sighs again. "I don't know if I want it, Francis. I don't know if I can do it. It's always been you who was taught rules and regulations and international policies and affairs." Mary pauses. "And if I choose the throne, what happens to me? Not my name in the history books, but me? Everything I am will die, will wither and die because of the weight of the crown. Everything I've done and seen will become null and void. And then what will I become? A breeding mare to a King and a puppet Queen who doesn't know what the fuck she's doing? Who wants to live like that?" the Princess pauses. "And that-" she nods to the ice, her voice cracking slightly. "what becomes of that? The thing I've loved most, apart from you, obviously. I love it, Francis. I love it so much, the freedom, the grace, the invisibility and simultaneous attention. It's everything I've ever wanted, and everything I've done in the sport will disappear in a cloud of smoke. It'll become a sentence in a book and that'll be that. I can't imagine it, all of my accomplishments becoming nothing but Chinese whispers just a few feet behind me. A ghost of what I could have been, what I could have done." she sighs sadly.

"You and Bash've always been similar like that." Francis' voice is quiet. "Your alias's and your gold medals. It's been different with me, rules and regulations." he says.

"I know." Mary leans her head back, sighing again. "You were always more important, Francis." he opens his mouth to interrupt, but she beats him to it. "Don't lie. You were. A future King in your own right. Your brother and I've been background royals. Never to be used in the throne, you've always meant more than us. But now, that's changed." Mary sighs. "How can I rule a country, Francis? Not just one, there's four in the UK. How can I balance the interests of all of them, while doing what I have to do for France? And for you, it'll be the same."

"You're my brood mare, and I suppose I'll be yours, now, won't I?" he attempts to crack a joke. Mary snorts.

"Don't say that." she chuckles. "I always knew that I'd have to give up figure skating eventually, I did, for you, for France. Careers like this don't last forever, you get to twenty five and it's done. That's why I loved it so much, because I didn't have the time to waste. It would finish with me and I would carry it with me. The Olympic golds weren't so shabby, either." she says. Francis snickers. "But if I take the crown from George, become his heir, all of that'll stop, won't it? I'll have to hang the boots up with what, eight years still left in me? I can still skate, but it won't be the same. Everybody'll know who I am, and it won't matter what I do." she sighs. "I don't know, I'm just confused. What if these last competitions and recitals are really the last things I can do? How do I live a life that I don't understand?" she asks. Francis stays quiet. "And what happens to us? What if the interests of both countries don't add up? Being a Princess, things like that didn't matter. But a Queen? What happens to us then? Will we see each other before the wedding, only stay together long enough for me to get pregnant? And then what?" she asks.

"I don't know, Mary. We never anticipated this." he says.

"I don't know what to do, Francis. What do I do?"

"I don't know. There's pros and cons to both sides. And I can't decide for you. But, I can tell you that I'll be at your side, supporting whatever decision you make. I love you, and we'll make it through this."

"I love you, too."