i’m yours, you’re mine…
Yes, I do! You can find her over here.
The Scottish young Queen mirrored Francis’ smirk, her fingers twiddling together in front of her gown. “I am lovely, rather content, the familiarity of the Court is very soothing.” Mary bobbed her head in reassurance, the excitement evident in her twinkling eyes that bore into the young male opposite of her. “Of course, I mean — you, adolescence surely changed you. As have I, but — we have not seen each other since minority.”
She was rambling. Whether it was a result of excitement or nervousness, he smiled. “No… it is as if we’re meeting for the first time.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Hello, I am Francis.” he spoke, giving a short bow.
So crawl on my belly ‘til the sun goes down
I’ll never wear your broken crown
I can take the road and I can fuck it all away
But in this twilight, our choices seal our fate
I love you.
The way he flinched from her grasp was like a slap across the face. Reality was beginning to set in. He was angry, and he had every right to be. She had run away from him. This was her fault, and mending the situation was beginning to feel more and more impossible. Had she really been so foolish to think that he would be happy to see her? She had planted hope in his heart that they would spend their days together, and shattered them by fleeing. Anger was natural.
But the tone in his voice brought a red color to her cheeks. She was ashamed, and her heart was broken. It was a tone that made her feel like she was a child being scorned by someone much wiser and older than she. He was so frail, and yet his tone of voice gave her a very vivid idea of what had driven him to this point in the first place.
Her voice trailed off.
What was she supposed to say? That she had abandoned him because Nostradamus had a vision? That she had thrown aside all of their plans and embarrassed him? That she loved him so much that the thought of being away from him caused her to physically ache? How could she possibly convey any of that?
For once, Mary was at a loss for words.
So often she could come back with an opinionated remark, with words of wisdom or truth. But one simple word 'You' had silenced her indefinitely. She wanted him to yell at her or open his eyes at look at her. She wanted to crawl into bed next to him and keep her lips near his ear, to be a comfort, but the eyes of the Physician were upon her.
So she remained, kneeling, hands folded gently in her lap, knees tucked under her.
A small sniffle followed by the brushing away of a tear.
”I know you’re angry, you must be…but I’m here should you need me for anything.”
She moved from her position to sit on the space next to him on the edge of the mattress. She took care to keep her distance from him. Her eyes looked over his features, flicking from his eyelids to his lips, the scruff on his chin. Her head dipped down to place a feathery kiss on his brow before clearing her throat.
She had made a mistake. She shouldn’t have come.
It was too painful, for both of them.
She wouldn’t only be his downfall, but hers as well.
“Say the word and I’ll disappear.”
It shouldn’t be like this, he thought. He loved her. He’d thought that their reunion would be just what he wanted, that he could envelope her in his arms and hold her for days and nights. He would be able to smile and be joyous once again, only to have his lips pressed against hers for unimaginable lengths of time.
Not only was he physically unable to do these things, bubbling anger was trying to overthrow love. It wasn’t only that she had left, it was the sickness. He felt things too strongly and his frustration was prevalent. He didn’t want to feel so angry. He shouldn’t feel so angry. Her skin should not feel uninviting and cold. Then again, it wasn’t. It was so warm, the kind of warmth that used to fill his veins when she was around and only when she was around.
And still, he hadn’t yet seen her.
She was crying, he could hear it in her crackling voice and quiet sniffs. He wanted everyone in the room to leave so that he could have a moment with her. The face he longed for, the voice that was so calm him, the lips that could silence him.
”Mary…” he finally uttered the word for her ears to here, not another groan in his sleep or a hallucination. Or could it be? He needed to see her. Feeling the bed shift, he opened his eyes fully and turned his head as much as he could, her face coming into view. Her features were dark and tinted pink.
Looking at her was too difficult. He took an elongated blink, keeping his eyes closed when she felt her lips against his skin. Warm.
He considered her offer, but did he really want her to leave? After all of these days waiting… Francis shook his head to the best of his ability.
His hand twitched involuntarily in it’s position at the edge of the bed, knuckles brushing her leg through the fabric of her dress. He wanted to reach out and grab her hand, but found it was energy that he would conserve. Instead, he turned his hand over, revealing his palm and opening it, leaving an invitation for her. He knew that she would understand, she always understood. She was so observant. Mary was fit for a queen, the best fit, really. She had a kind heart and new ideas. She knew what was best, just perhaps not for him.
Many times he’d told her that to stay sane, they needed to stay together. This only proved his theory and turned it into a truth. Therefore, he had to pose the question.
“Are you going to leave again?”
"Francis! It is a pleasure to meet with you again, though you live here so of course — I shall be seeing you often, I suppose. And, oh, very much so. Is it possible the Court could have gained more beauty before my arrival?”
"Are you feeling alright?” he asked with a grin. "I’m sure it’s the same, perhaps it has aged well… as have others —"
Pulled from her reverie Mary’s eyelashes fluttered rapidly, taking her a moment to realize she had been spoken to. “Hm? Oh, yes.” An untruth; though something she could not bear to tell Francis outright. Though it wouldn’t take much for one to deduce that she still very much felt out of place. A timid smile curled the edges of her lips as she looked up at him, doing her best to reenforce her words.
He didn’t believe her facade, though he decided not to question it. “Good. I’m glad.” he said, staying rigid. The young dauphin was still unclear of the girl’s standings with his half brother. He felt something for her, something that he was missing during the nights he spent with other women. It was all very confusing, and to add political matters to that… “Is there anything that could make your stay — life, here, more comfortable?”