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Side Note - Set immediately after the fight of 2x05
Side Note 2 - I think this is gonna be a controversial one, but I couldn't get this scenario out of my head a while ago
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Mary took yet another pull from her whiskey that she had imported from her homeland. The French could never make a whiskey as good as her beloved Scottish people could. The Queen didn't understand where her King was, if he was with anyone, if he had ordered a harlot to his rooms to try and plant a male child inside her. Obviously, the man had no problem doing that, take her own cousin and friend, and their bastard offspring. Was Francis in a corner crying with the regret of his words, or of his choice to marry her in the first place? Was he cursing her name to God for her inability to be the meek, submissive little wife he needed, for her inability to bare him a child?
Even after his harsh words, all Mary wanted was her beloved Francis' arms around her, to protect her from the harshness of this horrid world the two of them couldn't change, no matter how much they wanted to. Selfishly, she wanted him to come after her wherever she was, and to bring her back to their chambers, to push her against the door and apologise until she believed him (as if it would take more than one in her desperate state) and then kiss her tears away and bring her to bed, to make love to her all night and all day the next day.
The whiskey was warm in her hand and in her mouth, a respite of the coldness of the flooring of the French court. Where was she? Where had she gone after running out of their rooms in tears? Why did the walls look so similar to each other? Oh, this would be gossip in Court the next day. The barren Queen, drunk and lost and alone, unable to find her way back to her rooms, a lost little girl in a world full of grown men. The walls laugh at her, they mock her for her childs' death, they mock her for her stepson. They mock her for her Lady's working womb. They mock her for her husbands' virility.
She went to pour more of the beautiful liquid that made the living hell that was her life not so bad, only to discover that she had drained the whole thing. Frustrated by the whole situation, of the lack of a baby, of Lola's son, she simply plucked the glass bottle and threw it against the wall. It smashed into a million smithereens, it gave her savage pleasure to watch it. She may have screamed in frustration, she may not have. But soon, she was away from the corpse of the black bottle and in an entirely new corridor. The hallway seemed familiar, but she didn't pay it any mind.
But boy, was she surprised when she ended up in the little nursery set up for baby Jean-Philippe. She slammed open the door. The heat from the harth hit her face, she could smell the salty ashiness of the flames. There's a crib and a rocking horse and a trinket box. There's a woven blanket on the floor and the nursing chair is overstuffed. It's warm and cozy and it's everything the Queen of Scots wants and is depraved of at the same time.
Mary growls at the wet nurse to leave, glaring at her until the woman scurries out frantically. The drunk Queen scales over towards the crib, the one that housed the innocent little fragile baby boy who had done nothing wrong. She knew she shouldn't hate or resent this little boy, but she did. By God, she did. In this moment, Mary swore she hated this child. She walked closer until her legs hit the cradle and she could see the offspring. It slept soundlessly, covered by a knitted blanket. This felt like the night she told Francis to risk everything they had, to gamble with fate itself, to give this child a true name. Why did she do that?
Mary growls at the child as it sleeps soundlessly, one little arm in the air. Why does this little bastard get to rest undisturbed? He's ruined so many and so much, why does he get the bliss of sleeping oblivion and Mary does not? She leans down, she can smell the daisy flowers the nannies put in his baths.
"Why did I want to be better than Catherine? Why did I tell your father to claim you?" she spits at the child, glaring down at him. Why are his cheeks so chubby, why is his nose so small? Why did he get to survive the water of the womb and not her baby? Why does his heart beat and her baby's doesn't? "I should have kept my mouth closed the morning your mother had you. I never should have told your father about you. Everything would have been so much simpler then. I never should have opened that letter. If I didn't, Narciesse wouldn't be so vengeful against us and his arse of a son wouldn't have tried to blackmail me for his own gain. My husband wouldn't have abandoned me for weeks, he wouldn't be so disgusted with me for not baring him a child. My-my baby might be alive if it wasn't for you and your whore of a mother." she hisses with hatred. "Why didn't you just not survive your birth? Why didn't you just get on that boat to the Netherlands? Nobody would have been any the wiser and I would have been happy. The most happy." she whispers. "Why don't I just do it? It would be so easy to just do it, I could replicate your grandfather's mistress and take what I want and care not for the consequences." Mary didn't know where these words were coming from, nor did she know why she was saying them, but she continued to talk. "This unspeakable bond between my husband and your whore of a mother wouldn't exist, and I could have a child of my own, one who wouldn't grow up with the stain of a bastard sibling. That's what you are, all you'll ever be. A bastard. Look at you, you're nothing special. Just a regular child, how can you hold so much weight when you weigh nothing at all?" she asks. "Why-why do you get to see the sun, feel the water, and my baby doesn't? Why did you get so survive the womb and my baby couldn't? You weren't even wanted, did you know your mother tried to kill you? And she would have if I hadn't been the better woman. My-my baby was so wanted, I'd give anything to have a son. Why do you get to live and my baby doesn't? Why couldn't it have been you to slip from your mothers womb and I could have birthed a healthy Prince? Why? Why? How is that fair? Your mother is a whore, she betrays me time and time again. I can't think of one good thing she's ever said or done, yet she's rewarded with a child? Why can't I have that?" She inhales deeply. "Or, is she cursed with one? Do you know you're the cause of her being mocked and battled by all the members of court? If you weren't in this world, she wouldn't face this. And when you grow up into a larger little bastard, you'll feel the same. People will mock you and hate you and spit on you and you can do nothing about it. Your life is ruined before it's even started, and it's your fathers' fault. Why couldn't he have just put you and your whore of a mother on that ship? Pretty little Prince Conde wouldn't have put his head in my marriage, and nobody would be wiser to who you are and what you have ruined. I-I'd be pregnant. Maybe I'd be showing now, just a little. It was you and your whore of a mother who took that from me. I hope you know that. I want you both to know that. You killed my baby, it's only by my mercy that you live. Why do you punish me so, Jean-Philippe? Every breath you take, every noise you make, every time you move, every time you blink. It all burns in my gut. Do I really deserve such an eternal punishment for trying to save your father from me?"
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Quite controversial, I know. But I do feel that no matter how much Mary held or smiled at Jean, I do think she'd resent him, no matter what she said in 2x02. Especially after she lost her baby, I do think she'd feel some sort of resentment for the fact that Lola had Francis' child and his wife and Queen could not.
Next one, kinda sad baby Frary.
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Tu Es Ma Lumière
Historical Fiction~Reign AU/Collection of Oneshots~ The world can be dark, Mary, and uncertain and cruel. The only thing that matters is that we face it together. No matter what happens, you are my light ~Frary Oneshots/Taking Requests~ Book reached it's chapter limi...
