Mary looks up at the King with an almost offended look on her face. How dare he say that about her motives. Mary was about to question his audacity, but his words repeat in the back of her head.
‘You say the words like you don’t mean them, Mary…’
She winces to herself again as the words of Charles repeat once more. She furrows her brows and feels her nostrils flare as she opens her mouth to throw a remark at him for accusing her, but she holds her tongue and falls back into her seat. She simply grows a soft expression on her face as she is immediately sorry for almost snapping at Charles. Mary didn’t need to verbally apologize, it was clear in her face that she felt bad for almost letting her anger get the best of her. Sometimes, the Scot’s fire was not her strongest trait.
It’s as if he was accusing Mary of wanting to use him as a pawn, some sort of object for her to feed off of as she mourned. While Mary will admit she that Scotland needs the support of a King at its side, Mary would never use someone for her own personal gain. She felt like France was using her before she was wed to Francis. She would especially never use anyone she loves. While her words might have sounded forced, it was all simply her trying to force herself to be honest with Charles. Mary couldn’t just hide it forever. She hadn’t been very emotionally honest with anyone lately, her mourning had gotten in the way of that. The death of her husband had caused her to go cold. Mary was truly a caring and warm person, but her warmth had been put out by the cold and she didn’t know why.
She stares at him for a long moments before she speaks again. Mary kept it quiet as she took in his few, but rather meaningful words. She didn’t really quite know how to respond to Charles, he was half right.
“I’ll admit, I am forcing these feelings from my mouth. But it’s not because I’m just trying to be blunt and cold, it’s because I have been trying to find the courage to come to you with this information, Charles.” She said with a calm honesty in her voice, for a moment, you could almost feel the Queen’s usual warmth. A distant cold was still noticeable in her voice, but it was only her grief trying to get through.
“I’m just going to be honest with you, Charles. To be frank, Francis’ passing did a great deal of damage to my heart, and I don’t think I’ll ever recover. To be quite honest, I am finally just able to talk about Francis without breaking down. I truly love Francis, I always will. But in his last months alive, he and I grew apart and I found new feelings for you I didn’t know I had. Nor did I know how much they would really mean to me. I don’t regret the moments I spent with you, please believe me me when I say that, Charles. While I betrayed Francis, I can’t say he’s innocent either. Your brother has also betrayed my marriage to him, several times.” Mary says.
The Queen leans forward ever so slightly as she continues to speak. “Charles, I need a marriage to aid in securing my claim to the throne or Scotland will fall. France has been one of our strongest allies, and I will forever be greatful. Scotland will always be an ally to France when you need us, you know that. Sooner or later I will need a husband, but I want to have a fighting chance for love, the kind of love I had with Francis. I know I can find a true relationship with you, Charles. I have come to ask you to reconsider the engagement that was originally planned out for us before Francis passed.” The Queen trails off as she contemplates her next words.
“I want you to marry me.”
“If not, I understand and will walk away with grace. Just please take a moment and think about my words.” Mary says, her usual warmth was ever so noticeable as she truly meant what she was saying.
—he watches her expression shift and alter in a matter of seconds; from cold, distant, offended and angry, to a softer one. it almost reminds him of the Mary who he came to know, the woman he spent a partial of time with at some point. even going as far as to betray his brother for her, a ultimate show of the strength which his feelings for her bore. and now he feels indifferent; he gets the impression that she feels she is obligated to do and say certain things to remain in his favor. however, none of such thoughts becomes visible by any means. and in the long, silent moments that follow, with neither of them willing to break the silence and carry on with their conversation, the King rests back in his seat, less tense now. an audible sigh falls from his lips. eyes remaining fixated on her.
she speaks and he listens, no interruptions whatsoever, not even with a slight alternation in his expression, so to say. he may have grown tougher since his coronation, but he is still the same carrying, freedom loving Charles he was before he became King of France. he needs not to make her feel bad, but this is hurting him too even though it is not showing for the slightest bit.
“you speak in contradictions, Mary…” he sighs, leaning forward in his seat for a short moment, eyes meeting her gaze. and his heart does this stupid little thing It always does when he sees her, but he quickly gets a hold of himself, determined to not let this get to him more than it is necessary. at the thought, he averts his gaze for a second, draws in a breath and pushes himself up, off of his seat. he paces a bit away, to the open window at the other end of the room, stands before it for a long moment. he wants his words to be thought out, calculated. knowing himself, he doesn’t want to say anything that will sound bad, or accusing. if anything, he wishes the best for both himself and Mary, no matter how things will end up between them, but he cannot help but feel that there is more to it than she lets on. that her feelings are not all that genuine but the main reason why she is here, in his chambers, is because she needs to find an alliance for Scotland through marriage and her last words confirm that. and it is not just that which bothers him, but also how she keeps on mentioning his late brother, their love and how much she still loves him. he already has enough people comparing him to the late king, he doesn’t need her to do the same.
“Mary….” he says, but the following words die before they reach his tongue. “I understand the position you are in, as Queen.” he continues after a short few moments of silence, eyes meeting hers, holding her gaze. “but…I get the feeling that this is more about finding a strong alliance for Scotland, rather than you having feelings about me...” he may be sounding unfair or even too suspicious and it may be irritating her, but he somehow cannot shake this feeling, which bothers him more than he lets on; if he is going to be with someone, he wants them to be with him because of him, and not for anything else. and certainly not because he reminds her of his brother in any way.
leaning against the window frame, facing her, he sighs, a barely audible sound. she says that she wants him to marry her, heart stopping for a long moment but he quickly collects himself. “besides, how would your people and the people of France perceive that?” he questions, hands crossing in front of his chest. “…how will Catherine and Sebastian perceive that?” he asks in a more of a rhetorical manner, for he believes that Catherine, of all people, would be furious with the both of them if she ever found out; Francis had always been her favorite after all.
