Tu Es Ma Lumière

70 - Nightmare

Cries.

He heard cries.

His wife's cries.

The King of France shot up from his deep slumber, rapidly blinking the sleep out of his eyes and the disorientation out of his mind. He frantically searched her out in the darkness of the French winter morning. The King didn't have to search for long, she was right next to him. The Queen of France continued to cry into her small hands, not even acknowledging her husband awakening from his sleep. She was horridly dishevelled, her gown ill fitting on her enormous frame, her dark hair pointing out in every direction, full of knots and tugs. She was pale, a sheen of sweat around her skin.

"Mary," he gasped out, swallowing thickly. From his sleep, his voice was rugged. She didn't look at him, only continued to cry. Francis frantically looked all around her darkened frame, for any sort of injury to her or the baby that lay inside of her. When he found none, and his fingers found no blood or water, Francis relaxed somewhat, gently bringing her into his arms in a soft ensnarement. 

"Mon trésor," he whispered into his wife's hair, stroking it. He let her cry until she had no more tears left. "What is it? What distresses you so? Is it the baby?" he asked softly, his voice as soothing as the soft touch of his hand.

Mary sniffled, shaking her head. "No-no." she trembled, taking in a deep breath. It continued to shake for many moments.

"What is it? What distresses you?"

"N-nightmare." she mumbled. He relaxed. Francis cooed gently, kissing her temple as his wife burrowed into his frame.

"Oh, my love." he stated. "What about?"

Mary let out another broken sob. Francis felt his heart shake at the sound that shouldn't ever, ever be heard. "You." she revealed.

"What about me?" he asked calmly.

"You wouldn't accept the baby as yours, thought it was the Prince of Conde's. You were so convinced of it, Catherine and Bash, too. And-and you had me killed, turned to Protestantism and married Elizabeth, gifted her my head on your wedding day." Mary cried out, gripping the thin fabric of his nightshirt tightly in her small fists. He kissed her head softly, cooing soft words into her ear until she was settled against him.

"Shh, it's over now." he cooed. Mary looked up at him, he smiled at her fondly, brushing her tears away. "It's alright." he stated, pressing a soft kiss to her nose. Mary closed her eyes briefly at his kiss. "I know the child is mine, I know." he lay a hand upon her bump that seemed to grow by the hour these days. By the midwife's predictions, the baby would be here any day now. Much to Catherine's dismay, the King still slept in the bed with the Queen. He couldn't imagine spending a night without her, if she was with child or not. If anything, he had spent even more time closer to her during her pregnancy. "I'll never think you and Louis did that. Louis' not even here, still in Navarre with his brother." he chuckled absentmindedly. "I'll never turn to Protestantism, I may be my mother's child, but she'll disown me if I ever thought of doing that, which I won't. The mere thought is ridiculous." he chuckled.

"The midwives say odd dreams in pregnancy is normal." Mary mumbled. He nodded.

"They did." he nodded. "I'll never do one thing to harm you, let alone take your head, my love. I am not my father, nor your great uncle. I can't imagine life without you, have it be by my own hand is preposterous, alright?" he asked, his voice so gentle and soothing and melodic and loving that it warmed Mary's heart. 

"I know, it's just-" Mary trailed off. He nodded.

"I know, I know." he soothed. "I'll never do that to you, or the baby." he placed a hand on her belly. Mary smiled gently. "You're my wife, my Queen. My only one." he pressed another kiss to her, this time on her lips. Mary blushed, resting her head upon his shoulders. "I love you, Mary." he swore. "I love you, so, so much."

"I love you, too, Francis." Mary promised, threading her hand through his own on her belly. The two future parents shared a fond smile as the child inside his mother moved, a tiny foot sticking out to kick at their hands.

No matter the world, physical or illusion, it'll be the two of them against everything. They can rest assured of that.

~~

That felt better! A while ago, I skim read a fanfic that had Mary and Louis executed for treason, and that Francis converted to Protestantism and married Elizabeth and gave her Mary's head as a gift. It was a lot so I had to write a little somethin' about it as a very confused Frary sipper. So, there ya go!

I'm writing a couple things that are kinda sad right now (I asked you all in a previous AN if you wanted me to hold off on those kinds of stories and it was a resounding no, so nobody add comments about it please) so those should be up soon. Also, taking requests since I'm really inspired to write right now, so pop a little somethin' down in the comments please!

Remember to give feedback!

stay safe,

love,

me

:)