You Are My Light Part II

227 - Snowstorm

Mary's awoken by the soft strokes of her husband's fingers gently drawing absent minded patterns on her bare shoulder. The chamber is warm, she can smell the sweet smoke from the burning hearth, but there is a pleasant nip in the air that makes her so hypersensitive to his touch, his smell, the aura he gives off that makes her just so happy in this moment she can barely stand it. It's quiet and perfect, three weeks into their wedding tour of the French countryside. Francis has treated her like the perfect gentleman he was, giving her gifts and kisses and making her swoon with his sweet words. She had responded in kind, stoking his manly ego and kissing his skin at every chance she got. It doesn't matter where they are, the chateaux's and the pretty little cottages don't mean a thing. As long as they were together, the Queen of Scotland, new Dauphiness of France, could consider herself a happy woman.

"Good morning, my love." He whispers into her hair, kissing it. Mary's heart races with the action, and she bites her lip with a smile. He's so good to her, so loving and adoring and attentive even after all they've been through, all they've done to each other, all they've lost and put back together again. He's where he should be, and she is the same, finding a home so perfect and unified in the ensnarenent of each others arms that nothing else seems to matter anymore. Mary never thought this feeling of contentment and fulfillment would be possible with any other man, no man, King, Prince or anything of the sort could treat her and show her the same sort of love and attentiveness that Francis could. In all honesty, Mary could firmly say she was the luckiest woman in the world, to be blessed with a man such as this. One so good, so protective, so precious and charming that it brought tears to her eyes if she thought about it for too long.

"How long've you been awake?" Mary asks, looking up to his face. Her heart beats quicker as she takes in the state that rivals for the one she loved the most. Bare chested, messy haired, doe dyed. So stripped back and base, showing her the real, honest version of himself. Of course, he always looked delicious in the regal clothing a man of his station was worth, and she often lusted after him whenever his power was asserted in a way she couldn't explain. But there was something about him first thing in the morning that just melted her heart every time she looked at him.

"Not too long," he says. "I've rather been enjoying the peace, alone with you, no servents or nobles to bother us." Francis says, looking down at her. He moves her hair from her face, his eyes changing slightly. It seems she wasn't the only one who was so affected by the person he saw when he woke up.

"I love you." Mary whispered. "So much, you know this, right?"

"I do." he replies, his voice taking on a slightly husky undertone as he leans over and kisses her. Gently, but firmly. She did not deny him, why would she?

Mary inhales slightly as the door knocks four times, then opens. In walks a servant, dressed in clothes that appear quite fine in the eyes of a castle maid, and he pushes a cart of silver in front of him.

"Forgive me if I intrude, your Majesties." He bows.

"Not at all,"

"It's Cedric, isn't it?" Mary questions.

The man, perhaps just a touch older than them, blushes behind the dieting of dark hair on his cheeks. He nods firmly.

"Y-yes, your Majesty. I've brought your highnesses the hot milk with coco, as the Dauphin ordered last night."

Mary turns to her husband in surprise. He smiles at her.

"Thank you, Cedric. Put it on the table." Mary states, smiling at the young man.

"Yes, highness." Cedric places the silver tray of a jug and two mugs onto a nearby table. "Anything else, sire? Should I fetch the ladies maids to run baths and fetch outfits?"

"No, Cedric. Not today, my wife and I will spend the day to ourselves."

"Of course." Cedric bows out, leaving the room.

"You remembered." Mary whispers to her husband, touched.

"Of course I did." he nudges their noses together lightly. "It was always our favourite drink in the colder months as children. It's been sweetened with honey."

Mary doesn't know what to say, so she kisses him in hopes he understands what she cannot put into words.

"I love you." Mary whispers.

Hs smiles at her again. "Now, let's drink before it gets cold, shall we?"