You Are My Light Part II

204 - Harmed *Mature*

Side Note - Oneshot involving mature themes such as grooming, rape and molestation.

Side Note - I mean no disrespect to any survivors with this piece.

Prompt - What about if Mary gets assaulted at the convent like she was in 2x09?

/

It doesn't take a genius to understand that explaining what to do whilst within the confines of a consummation room will not be an entertaining conversation to have with two teenage members of immediate royalty. One would expect them both to be furiously blushing and coughing and sipping water or wine out of pure awkwardness and uncomfortableness. And yes, that does happen to some degree. But it doesn't happen in the way that the King and Queen of France expect.

It is their son, the typically hormonal and excited Prince, who is intrigued by the female form and wishes to experience such a thing first hand, especially after his bastard half brother informs him of what the female body can give a man in terms of pleasure and excitement. He blushes a deep crimson as his father struggles to continue to inform him of what his bridegroom duties are when the candles are dimmed and the lace curtains are closed. That is the typical reaction to such a conversation, yes?

But Mary, on the other hand, she just looks confused in a way that doesn't speak of naivety or inexperience on matters such as the pleasure of the flesh. She sits at Francis' side as the teenage boy continues to blush and stutter as his parents continue to inform them of what they are going to be required to do in January when Francis turns fourteen years of age. She's already turned two weeks ago, a last celebration before the Christmastide celebrations begin in a few days time.

"Mary? Do you understand?" Catherine de Medici asks, noticing the differences in reactions between her two children, one of which she had to send away for three years. 

"Uh-" she stutters in a way that's extremely unqueenly, but it hardly matters. Nothing makes sense to her, it's all wrong, it's all cloudy and wrong. "I do, Majesty,"

"It doesn't sound it." the King says. "Is something wrong, child?" 

You must never tell anybody about this, Queen Mary. This is a special way to talk to God, to please the lord. If you speak of this, your soul will be damned.

She shakes her head free of the memory of the whispered words in the darkness of the extremely uncomfortable convent bed of straw and raggedy cotton scraps. The coldness of the air in comparison to the painful burn in her body, the tears on her cheeks and the breaths on her neck as the pain went on and on.

She swallows thickly, pouring herself a goblet of water and quickly emptying it, trying to moisten her very, very dry throat.

"No, no, I'm fine." her voice is different, it drags Francis' attention from his own awkwardness as sudden tears fly to Mary's eyes. "It's just, stuffy in here." she says.

"Mary, the fire isn't on. The windows are open." Catherine states. "Tell me, child. You seem distressed all of a sudden. I know I said it'll hurt, but that's just what has to happen." she takes Mary's small hand. "It'll get better eventually, you know?"

She shakes her head, sniffling.

The hand wrapping around her throat, disturbing her sleep, waking her up in the dead of night. The heat of her breath upon the shell of her ear. The gasps, sighs and moans as she pain really, really begun. Whispered, hushed words as the blood began to run down her thighs. The hand on her mouth, silencing her cries when her fingers went faster and faster. The ragged rope making small scars on her wrists as they were bound above her head.

"No, no. It's not that. I just-" she sniffles. "I-"

"What?" Catherine asks, her voice changing. Hazel eyes begin to change

"At-at the convent. The sister, Helen. She-she said things about, about that. And-and she did things, said that I wasn't supposed to tell anybody. Or-or the lord would send my soul to the devil if I didn't keep quiet."

"Keep quiet about what?" Catherine's voice is soft, but it is urgent. She can feel the shock from her future husband, the anger beginning to pulsate from the King of France.

"She-she would come into my rooms at night, make sure I kept my mouth shut so we didn't wake up any other girls. And-and she's put her hand on my throat, told me that this was how to please the Lord, that if I didn't keep quiet, he would send my soul to the devil. I didn't tell anybody, but you just said it's only supposed to happen between a man and his wife and I-"

"Mary!" Catherine says loudly, Mary jumps, sniffling as tears she didn't realise had started flowing came down her cheeks. They're cupped by Catherine's hands. She's forced to look into the Queen of France's eyes. "Tell me, sweetheart. Did the sister touch you?"

Mary whimpers, but nods.

"Did she-" she swallows thickly. "Do what Henry and I were explaining?" Somehow, it's hard to say the word, and she's afraid that if she does, she herself would break down.

Mary whimpers, and nods, falling into tears into the only true mother's arms she'd ever known.

Francis covers his mouth as Catherine rounds the table, bringing Mary into her arms as the girl cries openly, weeping until she's limp. The King forces himself out of his chair, it falls backwards with a loud slam, but the slam of the door deafens that meagre noise as the King of France barrels out of the room.

He's out for that bitch's blood.