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So this is my first reign fic and also my first time writing on this site so bear with me, I'm still figuring things out, but hope you like the fic.

Chapter Text

Henry watched as the soldiers around him packed their bags and said their last goodbyes to their families before they left. As Diane came to bid him goodbye he found himself turning his head so that her kiss landed instead on his cheek. He nodded silently and bade her a quick farewell before hastily making his way away from her. He finished tacking up his horse and once more looked around him. He turned his gaze upwards to where he knew his queens balcony was. To his surprise, she was standing on it watching the proceedings below her. He kept observing her as she scanned the crowd. It confused him, and he could not think of why she even came to watch, she never did for occasions such as these. Their eyes met and Catherine stopped scouring the mass of people in favour of looking at him. A warm feeling spread over him at the fact that she had come. He smiled and nodded at her, surveying her expressionless features as she nodded her head in return before leaving her balcony. He sighed to himself and mounted his horse, wondering why, all of a sudden, Catherine's indifference bothered him.

Unbeknownst to Henry, the queen hadn't left her balcony, only stepped back so that she was hidden in the shadows. She watched as the hunting party made their way through the portcullis with their king leading the way. Only when they were out of sight and she could no longer see them did she leave the balcony and re-enter her chambers. She sat at her desk, deciding to work through what seemed like a mountain of paperwork, and that was where she stayed until the count made his way into French court.

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Catherine listened as Mary's insufferable ladies berated her. She pretended to listen for the most part but really wasn't interested. It was only when her husbands new mistress told her she knew nothing, that she reacted.

"I know exactly what it's like, I was eight when rebels stormed the Florentine palace, both my parents were already dead. My name and my fortune made me a target."

"At eight years old?"

"War does not spare children. It was years that I was kept locked up. Then they had to decide what to do with this Medici girl. Many of the men just like these demanded I be handed over to them, so that they... so that I could be...shared. I can still hear their laughter. That sickening, horrid laughter.

She watched the looks of pity for her, and disgust at the men cross the ladies faces.

"What happened?"

She hesitated before answering, knowing she could not give away one of her best kept secrets.

"The nuns and I prayed, we had faith that we would be rescued in time. Then one day the laughter stopped, and it grew quiet. I stepped over their dead bodies, into the sun, and the awaiting arms of pope Clement."

The room was quiet and none of the girls dared to speak.

"I swear to you that you will get out. I will be in the room with you girls and I will make sure you get out. I have done nothing to earn your trust and frankly I don't know if I want to; but I am asking you to somehow trust me for a few hours so that I can get you and my children out of here."

The ladies nodded their heads, still not speaking. Catherine turned on her heel and left the room in favour of her own chambers.

When she had gotten back to her rooms she went straight to the balcony and stood overlooking the grounds. The men had only been gone for a few hours, yet that was all it had taken for her children's lives to be threatened once again. She breathed in deeply and drank in the sight before her. If all went well at dinner, Mary and her ladies would escape and perhaps she might have a chance too aswell, though most likely something would go wrong. Poison wasn't the most reliable at times, something could go wrong and she would never see the light of day again. So, she stood leaning against the stone edge of her balcony taking in the small amount of freedom she had left.

It was ten minutes before she was meant to join the others for dinner when a knock followed by footsteps sounded behind Catherine. Her future daughter-in-law came to stand beside her.

"They didn't come in time, did they?"

Mary's voice was quiet, Catherine almost missed what she had said. It had a hopeful edge to it as if the queen of Scots was wishing for the queen of France to tell her that her original story was true, that there were no modifications to it; but Catherine couldn't do that.

"No. They didn't."

Tears rolled down Mary's cheeks. She could only imagine what would happen to her and her friends if their plan didn't work.

"I'm scared Catherine."

Catherine wrapped her arms tightly around the girl.

"I promised you that I would get my children out, and I don't break the promises I give to my children."

Mary looked up in surprise.

"I may not like you much, and you could very well be the death of my son, but, I remember how you were when you were a little girl and I missed the closeness we used to share. If we make it through this alive, I may reconsider giving you my blessing, and if I don't make it through this alive, then make sure Francis has someone to straighten his collar."

Catherine kissed the top of Mary's head like she used to do when the Scot was just a young girl, frightened at being so far away from home, before she let go and left her chambers, stopping only to call for Mary to follow her as she went to join dinner.

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Mary and her ladies sat down as Catherine presented the Italians with gold which the greedy soldiers fell upon like vultures upon a rotting carcass. The French queen grimaced before joining the other ladies at the table. Most of the meal was spent in silence until Mary made a complaint about her corset, whereupon the count allowed her and her ladies to leave the dining area. When they had been gone for a while the men started getting restless, suspecting something might be up. Count Vincent sent some of his soldiers to go look for them; but when they came back reporting that they hadn't found any trace of the ladies, Count Vincent threw his wine goblet across the room. It hit the wall and clattered to the ground, the wine spilling out and staining the floor.

Catherine sat still, hardly daring to breathe as the Count crept up behind her chair. He leant down and she could feel his breath on her neck.

"Where are they?"

She kept looking straight ahead. She didn't want to give anything away.

"I wouldn't know."

She flinched as the man grabbed a knife and stabbed it into the table, right next to her hand.

"I'll ask you again. Where are they?"

"I'll say it again. I don't know."

"I think you do."

"Then you are even more stupid than you look."

The Count grab the front of her hair and yanked her head back and she tried not to let her mask fall as she felt hairs being tugged out at her roots. He took the knife from the table and held it against her throat.

"Perhaps you need a little convincing."

He pressed the knife a little harder against her throat and she could feel the skin breaking a little as the blade was pushed against her skin. She stayed quiet and kept her face impassive, trying to keep her breathing steady as panic rose within her.

"My lord..."

A soldiers voice came from the doors. They turned to look at him and saw blood running from his nose. The same started happening to other soldiers around the room. Blood started coming from their mouths, noses, and ears, before they started dropping like flies. Count Vincent let go of Catherine in surprise and that was all it took for her to hit him over the head with her plate and run. She was almost to the door when he caught up with her. He tugged her back and pulled her to the table once again. Catherine fought and struggled but she wasn't a match for the count. Not physically at least.

"What did you do?"

"Use your eyes you fool. I poisoned them. Idiot."

She knew her life was in danger but Catherine couldn't stop her snarky side from coming through.

"How? We ate the same food, drank the same wine."

"The gold you imbecile."

The count slammed her against the table so hard that her vision went foggy for a few seconds.

"You have killed my son and now my soldiers. I am going to have you screaming for mercy by the time I am done with you."

He reached over her and grabbed a blade from a plate. Ripping open her sleeves, he dug the knife into her arm, watching as her face contorted in pain, yet she didn't make a sound. The count started to carve something onto her arm and when he was done he moved to the next one. He sliced into her skin and this time she did whimper as the pain shot through her, and as he dug it into her shoulder before doing the same to her side, she whimpered once again, biting her lip so hard it started to draw blood, and her eyes started to fill with tears.

"You really are a hard bitch to crack."

He laughed and she could feel the spit flying from his mouth as he spat at her.

"They say you're just an expensive whore sold to France so that the king could have some... entertainment. What do you say if we try you out?

He clapped a hand over her mouth before she had a chance to retaliate but her mask slipped and fear was written all over her face. He climbed on top of her and slipped a hand underneath her skirts, trailing his hand up her leg, digging his fingers into her skin, his other hand holding her down. In Catherine's mind she was back in Florentine, all alone with no-one to help her and though she tried to stop them, her tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes. She was terrified and looking frantically around her for anything that could help her. She had prepared for death, even for imprisonment, but not for what could happen before each of them. Just as Count Vincent move his hand away from her to undo his belt, was when she lunged forwards, stabbing him with a large meat fork. It pierced him in the chest close to his heart and for a moment Catherine thought she was free, but that was not so. Count Vincent, even with a meat fork so close to his heart and with a timer on his life was determined to bring the French queen down with him. He lurched forward and wrapped his hands around the queens neck. It was only when the amount of blood he had lost made him collapse that Catherine could free herself. Alas, the volume of blood that she herself had lost, coupled with the brief loss of air caused her to stumble just as she reached the door, and she too fell unconscious in a heap on the ground.

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When Catherine hadn't joined those who had escaped from the castle Mary and Francis began to worry. They sent a few scouts back through the secret tunnels to check if it was safe to re-enter the castle; and when it was found that it was, the inhabitants made their way back inside.

Mary and Francis hurried towards the dining room calling for Catherine. They made sure only Nostradamus and a few trustworthy guards came with them. What they saw when they entered the room was beyond what any of them had thought could be. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, and as they searched for the queen of France they had to make their way through pools of blood. Mary was the one who found her. Her scream echoed around the room as she dropped to her knees.

The queen was lying limp and seemingly lifeless on the floor, blood leaking from her many wounds. Mary cradled her head while Nostradamus checked for a pulse. As soon as he had found one he scooped the queen up and ran towards his medical room, shouting orders to those in the room as he went.

She was asleep for two whole days before she woke. Those around her had almost given up hope of her ever doing so, but she did wake. She looked around her and found Mary sleeping close to the foot of the bed beside her on her left and Francis mimicking Mary on her right. Her arms felt heavy as though they were being weighed down, her shoulder was stiff, and her side was sending small waves of pain through her body. She moved her head again to look around the room and this time she caught the eye of her loyal physician and friend who had just walked into the room. He gave her a small smile and walked slowly across the room as she tracked his movements. He sat on a small stool beside her and spoke softly so as not to frighten her or wake the sleeping teenagers.

"You have some deep wounds Catherine. You will have to keep the bandages on for a while and I will change them regularly. The wound in your side may give you a few troubles when you walk and you shouldn't do any extraneous activities or you may open the ones on your shoulder and arms."

She frowned as he spoke, not wanting to be told to take it easy.

"I mean it Catherine. I would rather have you on complete bedrest but I know you would never agree to that so this is the next best option."

The queen of France nods her head as she takes in the information being said to her.

"The court?"

Her voice was hoarse and she coughed as the rough feeling of her parched throat made her choke. Nostradamus reached beside him and filled a goblet with water from the pitcher beside it. Helping his friend to sit up, he ignored the way she flinched when he touched her and assisted her in drinking the water.

"I'll have the kitchen bring up some food for you."

She nodded before looking expectantly at him again.

"The court? Is everyone..."

"Safe? Yes. Everyone is safe thanks to you Catherine, although I think you almost gave your son and his future bride heart attacks."

"Serves them right. Think of it as my way of getting them back back for how troublesome they are."

Nostradamus chuckled quietly and left the room to get some food for her. She watched him leave before turning to the children whom she loved with all her heart. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she observed the bags underneath her golden child's eyes and the paleness of the Scottish queens face. She had no idea that they would care so much whether she lived or died, she wasn't used to being cared for. She had long ago given up the hope of being truly cared for by anyone and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about the concern the two sleeping children seemed to have for her wellbeing.

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By the time Nostradamus had brought the food back, and helped Catherine eat it, Mary and Francis had woken up. Both of them looked expectantly at Catherine as she fiddled with her bandages but it was her son who spoke first.

"Mother, what happened?"

Catherine sighed. She didn't think her son and his fiancé needed to know what had happened, appearance was everything after all and laying in a bed with bandages all over her was already damaging enough.

"The men ate, the poison kicked in, they died. That was all."

"Poison?"

"Yes Francis, the gold was poisoned. Did you really think I wouldn't have a back up plan?"

"But... Catherine, how did you get hurt then?"

The French queen closed her eyes at the Scottish queens question and sighed once again.

"It doesn't matter, I'm fine now."

"Mother..."

"Don't give me that look Francis. Neither you nor Mary need to know what happened in that room."

"Mother you were hurt. You have been unconscious for two days and still can't move properly. On top of that, you are my mother, do you not think I have a right to know?"

"No I don't Francis. As you rightly pointed out, I am you mother. I am the parent. I should take care of you. You do not need to concern yourself with the reasons for me getting hurt. I am fine now and that is all there is to it."

"But..."

"No."

"Francis just leave your mother I'm sure she'll tell you when she's ready."

Francis sighed but hesitantly agreed with his fiancé, he could see that even in this conversation, as short as it had been, his mother had paled considerably and seemed as though she was fighting sleep from overwhelming her.

"Alright. We should leave anyway, get some sleep mother."

He leant down and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled gently, managing to lift her hand just enough to stroke his hair.

"When did you grow up?"

"I love you to."

He started towards the door, looking towards Mary who nodded her head to signal she would follow soon. Once he had left the room Mary edged closer to Catherine.

"I'm not going to ask you what happened, only know that I am here if you need to speak to someone. We've spun the court a lie about the amount of paperwork and organising it is taking you to make sure this will never happen again and that you have left Francis and I in charge for a while before you address the court in person. Like a sort of trial period for us if you want to call it that. I have convinced Francis to not come here to often and to leave you alone when your dressings are being change on the condition that I be there. As much as you probably hate me, I thought it better I come than Francis."

Catherine nodded her head slowly as she took in Mary's words. Most likely the plan had been hers and spreading it around the court had also probably been the girls doing. The secrecy, Catherine was thankful for, it would keep the court from worrying about their monarchy, their figureheads, becoming weak and would make the rulers of the future seem trustworthy and strong. Mary got up to leave but as she did Catherine took her hand.

"Thank you my dear."

Mary shook her head and an emotion close to guilt filled her eyes.

"I should be thanking you. We all should. You saved our lives at the risk of your own, even though we have never taken a moment to try and understand your past actions. I wondered why, when I came back from the convent, you were distant. Why you had tried to... get rid of me. We were close when I was younger; you were like a mother to me, if not better than my own."

Catherine opened her mouth to speak. To explain why she had isolated the Scottish lass, but Mary continued.

"I know about the prophecy. Nostradamus told me about it. I know you were just protecting your son, if I had children, I'm sure I would do the same."

This time Catherine did manage to interrupt Mary.

"Lately I have realised that while prophecies are good to know, they promote irrational fear and anxiety. Prophecies are not specific, who knows, the reason Francis dies could be because he is trying to protect some time in the future when you are both 70 year old rulers and have fifty grandchildren. It could perhaps be seen as your fault but it wouldn't be as bad as what we both could imagine. I do not fully trust you Mary, I doubt I ever will, for my children mean the entire world to me. If I had to, I would find a way to get rid of the entire world if it would keep them happy and safe, but you and Francis have my blessing and my promise that, unless you hurt my son, I will not hurt you."

Mary smiled, tears threatening to spill from her dark eyes, she turned away to hide them from the stoic woman.

"Thank you Catherine, and thank you for saving my ladies and I."

She turned back, expecting a sarcastic comment on how it wasn't for them but the French queen's exhaustion had overcome her and she had fallen asleep once again. Mary leant down and kissed Catherine on the cheek, thanking her quietly once again, before she left.

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The castles physician unbuttoned the French queens sleeve to access her shoulders wound. Mary took her future mother-in-laws hand into her own as the woman flinched at Nostradamus' touch.

"This may hurt Catherine but I will try to be quick."

The Medici didn't say anything, just held Mary's hand tighter and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

"Catherine?"

"I understand both of you, my hearing wasn't affected, just hurry up."

Nostradamus carefully unwrapped the bandage from Catherine's shoulder, who winced when it came to the last layer of it. The cloth had because stuck to a thin layer of blood and skin which had to be peeled off before a new dressing could be placed on it.

"How is the court today Mary?"

"Sorry?"

"I asked how the court was."

"Why, do not trust your son and I."

The Scottish queen joked as the French on gritted her teeth in pain.

"I'm not sure how to answer that. I was asking you about the court so as to be distracted."

"Oh. Right, sorry. Erm... well no one was hurt in the coup, which you knew, but a few servants are still a bit skittish and I think the remaining guards are having some trouble trusting each other but hopefully when the rest of the men get back it'll be better."

"Rest of the men?"

"Yes. The king and his men are expected back tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Mm. Anyway once Nostradamus is done Francis and I thought it might be a good idea for you to address the court since you're allowed out of here."

"Of course. Do they still think I'm doing paperwork?"

"Yes. We told them that there was more now that the soldiers were coming home."

"Ok ladies. That's Catherines dressings finished, you can go now. But if any of them re-open before tomorrow come straight back."

"I will do, thank you Nostradamus."

The physician nodded at the ladies before retreating into a back room to burn the old gauze and bandages. Mary helped Catherine as she struggled to stand up before they too left the room in favour of the courtroom.

"As you all know there has been much organising that has had to take place since count Vincent tried, but failed, to take over our castle. I apologise that I have not been able to address you myself since the attempted coup, however, I am thankful to the dauphin and his fiancé, queen Mary, for their exemplary leadership at this time. Your king is due to arrive tomorrow and will also address you then. For now however, on behalf of France, I thank you all for the courage, the bravery, and the loyalty towards your monarchy and your country that you have shown."

The queen of France nods in respect to her court before leaving the hall with her son and daughter-in-law.

"You two should retire early today, if Henry is coming back he'll bombard you with questions and tasks which you will need your rest for."

"Goodnight Catherine."

The Scottish queen nods at her before turning away walking slowly so as to give her fiancé time to say goodnight before catching up."

"Will you be ok tonight mother?"

"Of course I will Francis, don't be silly."

"I know. Just promise me that if you do need help, you'll seek it."

"Go to bed Francis."

"Yes mother."

The queens golden boy places a kiss on top of his mothers head before following his wife to be. Catherine makes her way towards her chambers fearing the day to come. If her husband was to come home tomorrow she would be in trouble. She had allowed their castle to be taken over and had then killed the Italian count and his men. Her failure to lead would not go over well with the king.

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TW: For mentions of miscarriage.

The men rode their horses through the castle gates. There were whispers among them as their families greeted them in quieter tones than usual and the hushed rumours of what had happened were passed on. As the king was once again ignoring his mistress, his son, the dauphin, came to see him. He left his horse to a nearby stable hand and listened intently as his son briefed him on what had happened. For a fleeting moment, an unfamiliar feeling of dread for his queen shot through him and he had to calm himself before asking about her. His son told him that his wife was unharmed and had saved the inhabitants of the castle, yet he still worried. His son was an atrocious liar, and the way he had tensed when the question was asked, told the king that perhaps not everything had gone as smoothly as he had been told. He looked up to his queens balcony and caught sight of her watching the proceedings below her. Once again as it had been when he had left he was confused. She may watch the returning of soldiers more than when they would leave but it was still a rarity that she would watch. The expression on her face was almost unreadable as she searched the crowd. She met his gaze and her eyes widened slightly. Was that fear written upon her face? He couldn't tell, for no sooner had the emotion crossed her features, had it disappeared again and so had she.

Henry watched as his wife entered the room, he eyed her up and down trying to find any evidence of injury. She moved with the same elegance as she always did, she didn't falter, nothing in her movements seemed stiff, and her dress had a high collar with sleeves that went to the ends of her wrist so he couldn't see anything physically wrong. Then again, he never could. No one could. He had learned early on in their marriage that she had taught herself ways in which to seem perfectly fine even if she was in agony.

He had seen it when she had, had the first few miscarriages. She would cling onto him, sobbing in his arms as their unborn, unformed, unnamed children had slipped from between her thighs. They had needed to attend a meeting once and when they had been reminded of it she had made him help her dress. She had layered her undergarments with extra cloth and had held herself as proud and poised as any queen would look. The only thing that could have given her away was the pain in her eyes.

That was what he searched for now, but alas, after all these years she had once again changed and adapted to the world she lived in. She had taught herself how to hide her emotions and build a wall around everything she felt, and try as he might, he couldn't figure anything out. She nodded her head in his direction as she climbed the dais to sit in the throne next to his. He cleared his throat and waited for the courtroom to quieten before he spoke.

"I have been informed of what occurred a few nights ago. With much pleasure I have also been notified of the fact that the only ones who were hurt were those who tried to infiltrate the castle thanks to your queen who equally remains unscathed. After the attack there was much work to be done and I am proud to say that our future rulers showed impeccable leadership as they assisted queen Catherine in bringing everything back to normal. I thank you all for your roles in keeping the usual running of the castle going."

He nodded to the court before making his way towards his son and his future daughter-in-law. He would talk with them for a short time before addressing some of the nobles. As he made his rounds he saw his wife make her own way out of the courtroom. She held her head high, nodding at those she passed but made no move to make conversation with any of them and hurried out of the room. He watched the future rulers as they followed his queens movements with their eyes, sharing furtive glances laced with worry, and made up his mind that he would only stay for an hour at most attempting to placate the French nobles before he would follow his wife.

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The queen of France in question had retired to her chambers after taking a short walk in the palaces private gardens. She made her way to the furthest end of the room where her bed was situated. She took the top layer of her dress off and placed it beside her so that she was now only left in the bodice and skirt of it, ridding herself of the high neck and sleeves. The dressings on her arms were beginning to itch and so she began unwrapping them. She had extra bandages and salve in her room and was certain she could redo her dressings almost as well as the physician. She prepared a small basin of water before she undid the layers of fabric and gritted her teeth as the last layer came of, taking some of the skin with it, she reached for a wet cloth to wipe some of the blood as a voice sounded behind her.

"Let me do that."

The king of France had waited only half an hour before following his wife. He had gotten to his chambers and found all of her servants and guards had been dismissed which troubled him deeply. After an attack on the castle he would have thought her guards would've been doubled. He had made his way quietly into her chambers. Looking around, he had found her on her bed at the opposite end of the room in only her bodice and skirt. There was a bandage on her shoulder and he could see she was taking similar dressings of her arms. He hadn't meant to, but as she reached for the cloth he had spoken. She was startled, he could see it. She hadn't thought he was there and he felt a little guilty at having invaded her privacy.

"What?"

The queen watched as he took the cloth out of her hands.

"So you didn't come out of it unharmed."

"Henry what are you doing? Why are you here?"

"I was worried."

"Of course you were."

Her scathing tone stung as she took her wrist away from his hands.

"Look Henry, I know you're upset but could you please just leave the bloody scolding until tomorrow."

"I'm not upset, let me help you."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and reaching for the cloth in his hands.

"Well if you're going to wait until tomorrow, perhaps so that you can embarrass me infront of the court then you have no business here so you can leave."

He held the cloth away from him so that she couldn't reach it and took her arm back in his hands.

"If you are so certain that I am waiting until tomorrow then you might aswell make use of me now."

He wet the cloth again and dabbed it gently onto her skin, it looked as though a knife had been torn through it.

"What happened?"

He put the cloth down and stroked his thumb softly over the damaged tissue. His wife had been hurt and the feeling of guilt mixed with rage washed over him. How dare someone hurt her? Who had that count thought he was, going after his children before injuring his wife? He could feel her tensing at his question.

"It doesn't matter."

She didn't trust him.

"Please Henry."

She sighed, he could tell she was to tired to fight and that made him worry even more.

"Catherine. What happened?"

He kissed her wrist.

"Please Catherine."

She looked down at him, meeting his gaze, as she had done so many times when they had been so happy. She was exhausted, her head hurt, her wrists hurt, her shoulder hurt, her side wound hurt, and her husband acting as he once had was starting to make her barriers break down. She could let them crumble couldn't she? Every part of her felt broken, maybe, just maybe, this once, she could let her walls drop. It would go back to normal tomorrow, but tonight it could be different. Just for a few moments. She could fool herself for that long couldn't she?

"Florentine."

The queen barely recognised her own voice. It was sounded quiet and strained, not regal and proud as she had taught herself. She sounded exactly how she felt. Broken.

"So count Vincent did this to you? He hurt you?"

She nodded her head slowly.

"Did he... go... all the way?"

"No."

She choked out the denial, shaking her head. Her husband didn't say anything, he just reached for the bandages and starting re-doing her dressings. Once he had finished he motioned towards her should, indicating that he wanted to check that wound over aswell. He moved so that he sat behind her and unwrapped the layers of cloth before cleaning the deep cut. Anger boiled inside him once again, as Catherine flinched at his touch. How could he have let this happen? He had once promised to protect her, promised to keep her safe from this type of harm happening to her ever again, yet he had ridden of for a hunt with his men, leaving her behind. He tucked a strand of hair behind the queens ear and leaned against her uninjured shoulder, breathing in the scent of her perfume that clung to her skin.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I..."

Catherine placed her hand on her side and immediately the king understood. She didn't want to undress.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, but we can leave it for the physician."

Once again her head dipped in understanding and approval. He pressed a kiss to her neck and slowly snaked his arms around her waist, being sure not to cause her any more harm and giving her every opportunity to pull away. However, to his surprise she didn't object, and so they sat there. A husband comforting his wife.

At one point the queen yawned and shifted in his grasp. She unwrapped his arms from around her waist and stood up, facing him. She cupped his face in her hands and stared into his eyes.

"It is time to go my love."

And while he wanted to protest, Henry could see that Catherine, soft as she may be speaking, had her mind firmly made up. She was tired and confused and he couldn't, wouldn't put more stress on her tonight by arguing with her, and so he left.

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The queen woke up the next morning feeling dizzy. Her head hurt, which she attributed to the conversation she had, had with her husband the night before, and her dressings had started itching again. She groaned as she realised she would have to wear another long-sleeved, high-necked dress once again. She had already told her ladies not to come in that morning, so she got dressed by herself, though it couldn't have been any later than 6:30, and was still dark outside. The sun would come up soon and the battlements at the top of the palace were the perfect viewing spot for the beautiful sunrise that would take place and they would be empty at this time.

Catherine stood watching the dark sky become mixed with streaks of red and orange, as the sun rose in the distance behind the trees. She stood there for a few hours before someone behind her cleared their throat and she turned to find her husband standing there.

"Were you following me?"

"Perhaps. I wanted to know what my beautiful wife was doing wandering the halls so early in the morning without guards."

"What?"

"The sunrise is lovely though, I'll give you that."

The king smiled and walked towards Catherine, placing his hands on her shoulders, he's surprised though as she moved away from him.

"Don't."

"Catherine..."

"No Henry. This little game won't work on me again. What's the reason you suddenly care this time? I got hurt and now you've realised that you can't be without me?"

"No. Yes. I mean..."

"Save it. I won't fall for your game this time. You've done this so many times, pretended to care just so that I'll end up in your bed again, before you run back to your whores and leave me. I won't do this again. I'll admit, your caring husband act last night was good, but not good enough now that my head has cleared."

"Catherine, please."

""Don't Henry."

She looked away for just a few moments to hide the tears that start to form in her eyes, silently cursing herself for letting her emotions come through. Henry took her chin and gently turned her face towards him.

"This isn't a game."

An icy look comes back into her eyes, the barriers she's built around herself come crashing back down and she slaps the kings hand away.

"I am not one of your sluts that you can lie to."

She shoves her way past him, leaving him to stare after her retreating figure.

"Mother?"

The French queen looks up from her breakfast to her son, having spaced out and not heard him speak.

"Apologies, what did you say Francis."

"Mary and I were talking about when it would be appropriate to start wedding planning."

"Planning can take place any time my dear, it depends on when you want to start carrying out your plans that matters. A big occasion may put strain on many of the staff and guards who are already having their own problems with each other. However, announcing that you and Mary have begun the smaller preparations, such as having a wedding dress made, will arouse an excitement among the people, and a promise of unity always conveys strength. Especially at times such as these."

The queens firstborn smiles as his fiancé nods.

"Why don't you help me find my dress Catherine? I could use someone who will make sure everything goes smoothly."

"Who did you think was going to help you? Your ladies? They wouldn't know a good wedding dress designer if one came and slapped them in the face with their entire resume."

The Scottish queen smiles at her future mother-in-law's backhanded acceptance to her question. This could be her chance to finally get the woman she used to know as a child back.

"Thank you."

"Mm."

Underneath the table out of sight from the French queen her son squeezed his wife to be' hand.

Chapter Text

The Scottish and French queens were sitting on the bed in the latters bedchambers, flicking through an old journal. Each page was filled with pressed flowers, fabric samples, notes, and sketches. They had been looking at the pages, jotting down ideas on a different set of pages tied together with string and had finally finished the first part.

"I don't know how you do this for every event that happens in the castle Catherine, and in weeks sometimes to. I have months, maybe even a little over a year and I feel as though I won't ever get it done."

"It becomes easier with practice my dear."

The ravenette smiles at her future mother-in-law and turns to gather the items she had brought with her from a nearby desk.

"I'm going to leave these things in my chambers before going out for a walk near the lake, Would you accompany me? I don't feel like going alone and my ladies are all occupied this afternoon."

The Scot continues to collect the last of her paper, waiting on the other lady's answer. When it doesn't come she turns back and see's the French woman leaning heavily against one of her bed posts, eyes closed, breathing heavily, with her hand gripping the pole so tight her knuckles have turned ghostly pale.

"Catherine, are you alright?"

The blonde nods her head slowly before opening her eyes and straightening her posture.

"Yes Mary, I'm fine."

"Catherine..."

The young queen looks upon her companion with undisguised worry.

"I'm fine Mary, I just stood up too fast, that is all. Thank you for your offer for a walk but I think I'll retire early."

Hearing the dismissal in the stubborn womans voice and unwilling to argue, Mary exits the chambers of her future mother-in-law.

The Valois family with the addition of Diane Poitiers, the queen of Scots, and her ladies had sat around the table in the private dining room used for family and friends to eat together, with the notable exception of the queen of France. The king of France had surveyed every person who had dined with him, his eyes lingering on his son and soon to be daughter-in-law. He observed them as they held their own whispered conversation, half ignorant to any part of the world around them as a hint of worry was shown upon their young faces, and wondered if it had anything to do with the absence of his wife. After the dinner had been finished, Henry had been assured by his son that there was nothing wrong with Catherine, before being lured away by his mistress.

The king lay beside his mistress in her bed, after claiming he was to tired for anything but going to sleep, thinking not of the woman beside him, but of the woman whom he used to share his bed with. The strawberry blonde beautiful Italian woman who wore the wedding band that paired with his own. It was with this thought that he rose from the mattress, no longer comfortable to lay next to the woman whom he had hurt his wife with, and got dressed. Leaving the chambers of his mistress the king began walking down the hallway towards his own chambers. However, as he passed his wifes rooms, he heard a supressed whimper echo from inside. Fearing that she had invited someone else into her rooms, he opened the door and unceremoniously strode in.

What he saw when he entered the chambers was not what he had been expecting. His Medici bride was heavily leaning against her vanity table dressed only in a thin nightgown that was being slowly stained by her blood on its shoulder sleeve. Her hair was undone, hiding her face from view as she groped around the table with her uninjured arm, almost blindly, searching for something. Slowly he moved towards her, trying to make minimal sound so as not to startle her.

"Catherine?"

She lifted her head slowly, squinting against the light of her candles to see him as he reached out for her.

"Catherine, are you alright?"

She sighed and shook her head, turning back to the table.

"What do you want Henry?"

"You're bleeding."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, hissing through her teeth.

"How observant you are, I hadn't even noticed."

"You should go to the physician."

"If you came in here to lecture me, kindly leave. Infact would you just leave anyway, you do no good standing there like a fool."

The king raised an eyebrow at his wife's sharp tongue and began walking towards her.

"In that case, I might aswell make myself useful."

A pointed glare was thrown his way as he stood beside his wife.

"Henry..."

She began arguing but he soon cut her of.

"You can't wrap up your own shoulder, and you have no wish to go to the physicians, so let me stop you from bleeding out wife. I'm sure you'll chase me out after."

"With a broom husband."

He chuckled and reached around her to grab the small amount of medical supplies he would need before beginning to undo the small buttons that kept her nightgown together.

"You will have to change into another nightdress."

"I'm aware."

Rolling his eyes, the king lowered the sleeve of her nightdress until he could see the red bandage. Unwrapping it, he found that she had managed to split part of her already healed skin.

"What on earth have you been doing today woman? Training with the guards?"

"Oh do be quiet Henry. Help or leave me alone, and keep your witless remarks to yourself."

Taking the cloth he carefully cleaned the wound before bandaging it tightly to prevent an infection. He leaned down so that he could speak quietly in her ear.

"Where are your nightgowns?"

She moved as if to face him to object but he stopped her.

"Just tell me where the bloody things are woman."

"There."

She pointed in the direction of a wardrobe and he went over, taking one of the thin, white gowns out. He undressed his wife, ignoring her complaints before he helped her into the fabric he was holding and trying not to touch her more than necessary, being reminded each time she involuntarily flinched of what had happened to her, though she didn't do it often. Only once did he let his hand brush unnecessarily over her side where the other wound was as his eyes drifted to where her bandaged wrist where being kept out of his way. This time there were no buttons to do up and he watched as she turned to face him, an unreadable expression on her face. Her strawberry blonde, almost copper hair had been moved to rest on the side of her uninjured shoulder. He lifted a hand to brush it away but she shied away from him.

"Henry."

Her voice carried a warning. One that meant he should not push her.

"Catherine."

His voice carried a strong plea. One that begged her to let him in, but he could see that already she was re-enforcing the walls she had built around her. He started to leave, knowing he shouldn't, and couldn't fight her, not tonight, but on his way he stooped a little to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Goodnight, Caterina."

Chapter Text

A ball. An official engagement ball. How absolutely mad could his wife be? She was injured, and now she was in full swing planning a party for an engagement announcement. Striding into the castles ballroom, he scanned the place in search for his queen. When he finally found her, he strode over to her and leant down to speak to her as he gently, but firmly took her uninjured arm, careful to avoid her wrists.

"Henry! What are you doing?"

"A ball Catherine, seriously? In your state."

In that moment, if looks could kill, the queen of France would have been locked up for murdering her husband. A cold tone filtered into her voice as they made their way out of the room to avoid a scene. Something both of them unfortunately had a lot of practice with.

"My state, what has this got to do with 'my state'?"

"You are injured Catherine. Your wounds open up regularly because you aren't resting properly. How is planning a party going to help you?"

"I'm fine! I don't need your misplaced, moronic, guilt-easing, pitying, false sympathy act!"

"That is not what I'm doing and you know it!"

"I know it!? How would I know what you know? Nevermind, don't answer that, because apparently you already know what I know!"

"I'm looking out for your health woman!"

"Don't."

"So you'll quite happily bleed to death by re-opening you wounds, and not being able to dress them yourself with one hand. Brilliant plan Catherine, absolutely brilliant!"

"My health is my concern. You have never cared before, so don't pretend as though you do now."

"I do care!"

At this the French queen began to laugh, shaking her head she snapped her last remark at her husband before leaving.

"Well don't."

It felt to the Scottish queen as though a million things were flying through her head, a million thoughts, feelings, and images all growing in one space, noise that needed to be silenced. She made her way to her future mother-in-laws rooms and knocked gently before walking in. She found the woman in question standing on her balcony as she had been before the attack on the castle. Walking towards her, she cleared her throat quietly to announce her presence, and watched as the blonde tilted her head, indicating for the Scot to join her.

"What bothers you now Mary?"

"I'm not quite sure. I just wanted to be with you."

"Really?"

The ravenette nodded her head and leaned on the stoned railings of the balcony.

"The pope didn't get to you in time."

"Mary..."

"Please."

A sigh sounded from the French queen's lips before she fell silent once again, knowing her future daughter-in-law needed this.

"Those men took so much from you when you were so young, and the pope didn't get to you in time to save you. Did we?"

"Sorry?"

"Did we... did we get to you in time?"

"Well I'm standing here aren't I?"

"We found you on the floor covered in blood, wound on your wrists, shoulder, and side."

The young womans voice rose in pitch before cracking as she became more and more distressed, until eventually it was a struggle for the elder on of the pair to hear the whispers that came from her.

"We left you. We left you behind even though I knew what had happened to you, and the others have probably all guessed. We left you sitting at that table with men who could have killed you while we went to safety."

"You did what I asked of you, nothing more, and nothing less. You knew nothing more than the appearance of slight decency the count had shown and you knew nothing of what he would do."

"What happened Catherine?"

"Mary..."

"Please."

Again it was the womans plea that stopped her, and the look in her eyes that compelled her to speak.

"Everything went as planned. We had dinner, you and your ladies left, the men suspected nothing, and then you didn't come back. The count sent men to look for you but naturally they couldn't find you. Vincent tried to get me to tell him where you girls had gone but I wouldn't tell him. He pressed a knife against my throat, threatening me."

The French queens hand involuntarily went up to her covered throat and traced where the knife had been.

"That was when the poison started to work."

"Poison?"

"A back up plan, I had kept hidden just in case things went awry. The gold had been brushed with one of the strongest substances in my possession. His soldiers started bleeding and dropping to the floor."

A vision of the nun from her convent came to Mary. She could imagine how the soldiers had died, and suppressed a shudder as she remembered how lethal her future mother-in-law could be, glad that she was now on the same side as Catherine.

"He slammed me against a table after I told him. Ripped my sleeves and started digging his blade into my skin, before doing the same with my side and shoulder."

And now elder queens fingers traced her wrist as she continued staring ahead, her face impassive and her voice staying vacant of any emotion.

"When he was bored of that he decided to... try out my reputation."

"Your...?"

The Italian blooded woman scoffed at the young womans naivety.

"Surely you've heard my dear. The Medici bitch, sold to France as an expensive whore. He climbed on top of me and reached his hand up my skirts, digging his fingers into my skin."

The Scottish queen shuddered as her eyes started filling with tears. Sensing her companions continued distress, the elder woman kept further details to herself.

"I was able to grab a knife. I stabbed him and tried to get away, he took hold of me and wrapped his hands around my throat trying to suffocate me until he eventually dropped down due to the blood loss. By then however, my own blood loss had caught up with me and I fell unconscious infront of the door. The next time I awoke, I was in Nostradamus' chambers with my son and you sleeping next to me."

"Catherine."

The ravenette's voice broke once again as she couldn't find any words to say. What could she say? A warmth enveloped her hand and she found her companion had taken it in hers and was pulling her close. A strangled sob emitted from the young queen and she buried her head next to the other womans neck.

"He is gone, my son is safe from him and so are your ladies and you. Thank your lucky stars that Francis loves you so much, for it means you now belong to my family, and no one hurts my family. No one. I am here for you."

Taking a deep breath, the younger woman was able to regain control of her voice.

"I wish we could get those who hurt you when you were younger, I wish I could make what you had to go through better."

"So do I, my child, so do I."

Chapter Text

It had taken a walk through the gardens to calm both her and Mary down, she was glad that now she could retire to her chambers once again as the afternoon drew in. The French queen walked down her hallway and stopped short in surprise as the sound of construction came from her rooms, and a string of people entered and exited them carrying her items. Storming into the room she stopped the workers with a glare.

"What on earth is going on here!?"

A worker stopped what they were doing and bowed before answering her as the others continued their work.

"The kings gave orders for us to remove your items from your chambers and place them in his own."

"No. No you will not. Take everything back and do not touch them again, no matter what the king says!"

"Do not do a single thing my wife says. Continue your job."

Standing calmly and unbothered behind the French queen was her husband. The workers made a hasty exit as they sensed the danger in the air when the queen's tone turned icy.

"What do you think you're doing Henry? Ordering the staff to move my things and place them in your room."

Nonchalantly waving a hand, the king ignored the steely glare coming from his wife.

"It was simply the best option."

"For what!?"

"Making sure you take care of yourself. I have caught you once being unable to properly change the bandaging on your wrists, and another time using a nightgown as an ineffective dressing."

"I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you just barged into my chambers."

"Be that as it may, I've decided that you are to reside in my chambers from now on."

"You arrogant, egotistical..."

Increasing his own voice above his wife's, the king drowned out her insults.

"You are injured Catherine! I will not have my queen bleeding out on the floor of her rooms, or in the middle of court just because she is as stubborn as a mule!"

Lower her voice so that it hissed between her teeth, the Italian blooded woman narrowed her eyes once more.

"Oh so that's what this is about, Appearances. You don't want me embarrassing you."

Two servants made their way into the chambers to collect more of her items, cutting the kings reply of. Raising her chin defiantly, the queen strode past him, leaving him to sigh in her wake.

Chapter Text

As a small blessing to Catherine, her husband had decided to retire late that night while she retired early which meant she could be alone in his chambers. She sat on the window observing those below her. It was growing darker and though she knew the temperature should be dropping as the night came she felt as though the sun was still pressing down on her, which made her grateful that the glass was cool as she pressed her forehead against it. A knock sounded on the door but the queen barely acknowledged it, choosing instead to keep her gaze fixed on the gardens outside.

"Queen Catherine?"

A soft Scottish voice came from the door as one of Mary's ladies entered the room. Even when the woman crossed the floor to approach the queen, her gaze didn't shift.

"Your majesty?"

It took the young girls hand on the elder womans arm to break her trance.

"Aylee, what are you doing here."

"I heard you had dismissed your own ladies and I presumed it was because of... your injuries. I thought I could help you tonight."

Frowning the Italian blooded woman waved her hand gently.

"I don't require any assistance, I'm sure you have better things to do. Run along and tell Mary not to send her ladies to places they're not wanted."

"Mary didn't send me, your majesty. I really did just come here because I thought you might want some extra assistance. The king and Prince Frances also seemed worried about you tonight so I thought it may put their minds at rest."

At the mention of her husband and son the French queen finally relented, knowing that she didn't want her son to worry or her husband to come marching up and disturbing her peace.

"Fine, the nightdress is over there."

Pointing to one end of the room, she began walking towards the vanity table that had come from her chambers, and began removing the items of jewellery she was wearing.

"Could you tell me where the medicinal supplies are, your seer caught me on the way up here and asked me if, with your permission of course, I could double check your dressings."

Nodding, the French queen opened a drawer in a small cabinet and started taking out the things Mary's lady would need. The small blonde left the nightgown on the now shared bed, coming closer to stand next to the older woman.

"May I?"

Soft fingers brushed against the back of the queens neck as she nodded and the necklace was unclasped before being placed on the dressing table.

"I'm going to loosen your corset now."

As the pressure around her waist and neck disappeared, the younger woman could sense her companion relaxing. She continued talking softly and explaining what she was doing to keep the queen at ease but couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her at the sight of the Italians injuries. She cleaned the side and shoulder wound before re-bandaging them. When the pair of them moved to the bed, where the Scot knelt infront of the queen to clean her wrists, tears started to build in her eyes. A hand touched her chin, coaxing her to look up. Surprisingly the queen of France had a soft look in her eyes, not the piercing gaze the blonde had come to expect.

"I'm sorry, you got hurt, I shouldn't be... We shouldn't have left you behind."

"What difference would it have made if you were in that room or standing outside, safe?"

"We could have helped you or..."

"Or gotten yourselves killed."

Catherine wiped the tears of the young girls face before tucking her hair behind her ear.

"My children are safe. There is not going to be a single moment in which I regret what I did. My children are in their own, warm beds and no one was hurt. There is nothing to regret, and there isn't anything anyone could have done differently that wouldn't have risked more people being injured. It was the safest option for the most people."

"But not for you."

"When you make decisions like these, the needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few. I don't matter but my children, and Mary, and you girls, you all do. Though I will steadfastly deny it if any of your other bratty friends come round asking."

The Scot stifled a giggle at the queens obvious disdain for her friends and finished bandaging the wrist she was working on. She moved everything back to where it was meant to go and took the old dressings so that they could be burned later. Bowing, she made her way to the door pausing only to look back quickly.

"Thank you Catherine."

Chapter Text

The king entered his bedchambers quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible. If his wife was sleeping, he did not wish to wake her, it would cause unnecessary trouble. He changed into his night clothes and headed towards the bed. His heart sank a little as he saw the sleeping form of his queen was lying, huddled to one side. Obviously she had no desire to come into contact with him even if it was while sleeping. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her body rise and fall with each breath she took, wanting so desperately to reach out and touch her, to feel that she was really, truly there. Giving in to temptation as he slid under the covers, he leaned over to kiss her softly on the cheek, tucking some of her golden hair behind her ear.

It was soft cries and the feeling of his wife struggling next to him that roused him from the land of dreams. The movements she made were small, and the noises were quiet, as though, even in her sleep she was trying to project an image of strength, trying desperately to stop the ornate mask she wore from cracking. Tears started to roll down her cheeks and yet he found he couldn't move. He couldn't move to help her, to stop her seeing whatever hell she was living through.

Eventually, through some miracle he finally found himself able to move. He laid a hand gently, but firmly, on her shoulder so she would feel it but hopefully not be startled by his touch.

"Catherine. Catherine it's a dream, wake up."

He felt awkward trying to rouse his wife, trying to wake her from whatever monsters she was seeing. She struggled against him, sitting up so suddenly that it caused him to have to duck out of the way before she collided with him. Her eyes were wild, her movements uncontrolled, and she clawed at her body, wrists, and hair.

Knowing she would injure herself and re-open her wounds, the king did the only thing he could think of. Restraining her, he held her close to his chest, tightening his grasp as she struggled against him.

Finally, at long last it seemed as though she had run out of steam or given up, she stopped and lay limp in his arms, breathing heavily as more silent tears began running down her cheeks.

"Catherine..."

Her voice interjected his sentence.

"He's everywhere Henry, they're everywhere. Their faces appear on every man who comes too close, every voice that I have never heard before becomes theirs, in every dark corner they lurk, and I cannot do anything about it."

Then, as though, all of a sudden, she had realised where she was and whose arms she was laying in, she stiffened, getting up as she did so. The king watched and his heart sank as he saw each of her barricades being replaced and strengthened, her voice cold when she spoke once more, even her eyes were devoid of any emotion

"Perhaps it's because I've been forcefully removed from my own chambers by our dear king and have had to share a bed with a man I barely know."

Anger coursed through the French mans body from nowhere. A minute ago she had been sobbing in his arms and was now provoking him within an inch of losing control. He shook his head. Only Catherine could do such things to him, had been for years, yet, he couldn't quite make up his mind on whether he wanted to strangle her, or kiss her for it.

"I would hardly say that Catherine but if you're so bothered by sharing a bed with your husband, I'll take the chaise and you cant stay here. Take the bed."

"Naturally, I wasn't going anywhere else."

A few steps. That's all it would take right now. A few steps and he could cover the annoying sounds coming from her mouth with his own or he could reach his hands around her throat to throttle her. He chose the third option, pinning her up against a wall.

"You, woman, are infuriating. I am your king, not to mention your husband. Would it kill you to show some respect?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps it would husband."

He looked into her hazel eyes that glittered with defiance and realised how close their bodies were in this position. His gaze drifted to her lips, still pursed but ready to spit fire, before it travelled down to her exposed skin at the top of her gown, flushed a delicate rose colour.

"Henry get off me."

Her voice betrayed no emotion but her eyes showed the smallest glimmer of uncertainty at their close proximity. He stepped away from her, averting his gaze as she fixed her thin nightgown. He watched her turn her back and slip back into his bed as he sighed, reaching for a fur rug.

"Goodnight Catherine."

"Go to sleep Henry."

Chapter Text

The sunlight streamed in through a gap in the curtain as she moved to sit in a chair by the fireplace. Her husband lay, still asleep, on the couch close to her, and she almost smiled as she observed his sleeping form, wrapped in a fur blanket. Last night he had somehow found it within him to ignore his ego and let her be. It was nice to feel as though her wishes were being respected, even just this once, but how long would it be before he decided he was bored... again?

A knock sounded on the door and the queen's lady's maid looked around the edge of the door. She entered the room as her mistress nodded and raised an eyebrow when she saw the king, pursing her lips in an effort not to laugh, she watched the Italian woman sigh and stand up.

"Good morning, your majesty."

"I trust you remember the confidentiality clause in your contract Sofia."

"Of course, your majesty."

A quiet chuckle sounded from the blonde woman's lips.

"Do stop it."

This time it was the younger brunette who laughed.

"Yes Catherine."

The lady's maid picked out the dress and jewellery the queen wanted before helping her out of the nightgown she was wearing. A short gasp sounded from the brunette as she saw the bandages that she would need to help the Italian-blooded woman with.

"I heard what happened and assumed you hadn't gotten out unscathed when you asked for no one to attend to you and didn't appear in court but I didn't realise..."

She stopped talking as she watched the queen's reaction, she looked down and continued helping the queen into her dress.

"Thank you. One of my friends was being eyed up by one of that man's guards, he's dead now, she's safe."

A soft smile greeted her as she looked up.

"I'm glad. What about you, did they touch you?"

"No, they left me alone when they realised, I was your maid."

The French queen and lady's maid stayed in a comfortable silence as the dressings were changed, buttons were done up on the dress, and the elder woman sat herself in front of the vanity, waiting for Sofia to help her with her hair.

"So, are we going to talk about the elephant... sorry, king in the room?"

"He's bored with his playthings and needs to rebound with his wife. Me being hurt only helps him with his caring husband act, I've seen it before."

"So... you don't believe him?"

"Would you?"

A silence hung between them again as Sofia pinned up the last strands of hair, thinking over her answer, placing a gold clasp adorned with sapphire jewels amongst the curls. It would match the blue gown with gold embroidery that the queen was wearing and the matching cloak that went with it that she would wear when leaving the room.

"If I found a man that I loved as much as you love Henry, I think I might."

"I'm not sure I have love to give to that man."

"Not anymore?"

"No."

Both of them stopped any hint of their conversation as a groan sounded from the sofa and the man they were talking about began to sit up. The queen laughed quietly and turned her head to whisper to her maid.

"Speak of the devil and he shall make himself known."

The younger of the pair giggled and began to pack away what had been used in getting the queen ready.

"You may leave once you're done Sofia."

"Yes, your majesty."

The French queen watched the maid leave her chambers before turning to her husband who was making his way towards her.

"You look gorgeous today, Catherine."

"I know."

The king chuckled as he came to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. She flinched and stood up, reaching for her cloak, draping it around her shoulders, wanting as much space between them as possible. As she struggled with closing the clasp, her husband came up to her and did for her, earning him a glare as he removed his hands. The infuriating man did not, however, seem discouraged by her response and stayed put in front of her.

"Let's go for a walk by the lake today, the sun will be out, it’ll be lovely."

She scoffed and shook her head.

"A walk? We have business to take care of here, not to mention that a walk won't solve years of problems that you, all of a sudden, seem so desperate to solve. I've fallen for it before Henry, I'm not a fool."

She turned to leave, rolling her eyes discreetly as she did but her husband's voice stopped her.

"I could always order you, as your husband and king."

If only looks could kill. She was sure if they could, the husband would be suffering an agonisingly slow death. She hated the reminder that in the eyes of the law, she was property. His property.

"How dare you."

She sneered at him as he shrugged nonchalantly. Realising that there was no way she would be able to avoid the order, she relaxed back into her own disinterested stance. Her anger only allowed him to see she cared, even if the care was about staying as far away from him as possible while he was in his 'loving husband' phase once again. She decided to try riling him up in a way that always worked.

"As you wish my lord."

She bowed and turned her back on him, a smirk appearing on her face as a thunderous expression appeared on his. He hated sarcasm, especially when it came to one of his titles, the titles that were meant to be spoken in respect, or as he preferred, in awe. His mistresses were often heard calling him by his titles as they inflated his ego and self-importance. She however, would not do so. Not while he continued to rule over his life as though he were the puppet master of a puppet who had not yet managed to cut the final string chaining it to its captivity.

She laughed quietly to herself. Who did he think she was, a blushing, princess with little to no braincells? She was a queen, and if her actions must be managed by someone else? Well... she wasn’t about to make it easy.

Chapter Text

Her heels tapped slowly against the path that led to the lake, her dress fanning slowly around her ankles as each step moved the fabric. A small smirk played around her lips as the chime of a bell sounding out the hour reached her. She had managed to drag out the time so that she was late for their meeting. Perhaps she would get lucky, perhaps her husband had already given up on his charade and left.

She walked along the wooden dock a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as the sun hit her and warmth filled her body. He wasn't here and no one else was around. She sat down slowly, daintily folding her dress around her legs as she let them swing of the edge just above the water. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the sun, basking in the heat that surrounded her.

Steps echoed behind her, and a shadow blocked the sun, cold beginning to nip at her.

"You're blocking my sun."

Her husband laughed and planted himself beside her, the wood creaking.

"Better?"

"The company could be."

She groans inwardly as she feels his presence. It annoys her that she was so stupid to have fooled herself into believing that her husband would abandon the chase before it ended in bed. Had Diane not worn a dress cut low enough today? That woman was a nuisance. Taking her husband and then not keeping him far enough away from her once she had him.

"Do you remember..."

She shifted so that she could begin to stand halfway through her husband's sentence; she was not going to be drawn in by memories that had taken place so long ago that she now had trouble separating them from a fictitious novel.

"You wanted a walk Henry, let's get it over with."

She made a move to stand and regretted her words as she realised, she couldn't get up in any dignified manner. A hand lowered itself beside her and when she looked up, her husband had looked away, allowing her to keep some semblance of her pride. She took the hand offered to her, standing and taking a minute to dust of her dress, and come to terms with her bruised ego, composing herself before continuing forward, allowing her husband to catch up.

They walked silently, she always half a step of him and he allowing it, slowing down just enough to trail behind his wife.

They walked in that diagonal, silence filling the gap between them, until the pace exhausted the queen and she fell back, ending up in step with her husband.

As they continued, with no obvious end to the walk in sight, the king seemingly set on covering every inch of the vast grounds, she slowed her pace even more. Her feet were sore, and a migraine was gathering itself to provide a storm of pounding in her head as though her own thoughts weren't enough already. She was tired from the lack of sleep she had gotten the last few nights and the heat made no effort to soothe her as even the lightest of her dress' fabric couldn't protect her from the onslaught of the sun's rays.

She stopped as they made their way to, once more, turn down another path that led even further in the opposite direction of the castle.

"Henry, this is absolutely pointless. What did you think this walk would bring you? Or did you not think? That is after all how many of your hare-brained schemes are achieved."

He smiled, infuriatingly relaxed unperturbed by her words and held out his arm.

"Let's head back inside then."

She ignored the offer of assistance but continued to walk beside him, pretending she didn't notice when he slowed his pace for her.

They made their way along the corridor, becoming slower and slower, the torchlit halls seeming to grow longer in distance and larger in size. She blinked as the end up ahead blurred out of focus and danced around in front of her, taunting her.

She started, straightening her posture, though she wasn't sure when she had lost it, as a warm breath blew against her neck.

"Have you anything to eat since we last spoke Catherine."

Her husband. The man she had been on a walk with and had conveniently forgotten for the last few minutes. She thought about his words and shook her head, closing her eyes as the movements made the walls spin. She thought she heard a sigh beside her and prepared herself for a chastisement fit only for a child but it never came.

Instead, an arm wrapped itself around her waist, tightly, but not uncomfortably though ignoring her protests at such a move. They walked slowly and just as she thought she was going to be steered into the brick wall as some sort of sick joke of her husband's, it opened and she recognised the dark stone of the not so secret passageways.

"Henry we'll get lost."

"Not this way."

It was only then that she realised she could see and didn't find herself in pitch darkness.

"This is the passage we used to use, it'll get us closer to your rooms. I ordered food to be up there earlier."

Had she been in the right state of mind she would have argued, probably called him foolish aswell. It wasn't in his right to assume she would have been comfortable with food being ordered to her rooms which she supposed he had taken for granted that he would be eating with her. But she wasn't in the mind to admonish him. Instead, she let him lead her through halls that she vaguely knew, recognising some of the scratches in the bricks that their younger selves had made.

If she hadn't known that her state was her own fault, she would have thought that this was planned, now she was stuck with her husband, relying on him to get her to her rooms before she passed out.

This was in no way, how she had planned for their walk to go.

Chapter Text

She glowered at his back.

Her husband was poking at the fireplace, trying to get it lit as she sat on a chaise, having been sat there by the man in front of her. Her head hurt, her feet hurt, and she was now realising what a mistake it had been not to eat anything. So, she glowered at him.

"Eat Catherine."

"I'm not a dog."

She did want to eat. However, it was food that Henry had brought here and was now determined to get her to eat. She would wait.

"No, you're too stubborn to be a dog. Eat."

He turned around, now having finally gotten the fire going. She continued glaring at him.

"You displaced me from my rooms, forced me to cohabitate with you for a night, demanded we go on a walk and then were so presumptuous that you ordered food up to my rooms, which I no longer reside in thanks to you. I'll eat when you leave."

There, that must be enough. Surely he would leave now. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hand before using that same hand to gesture around them.

"Look around woman."

"At what?"

"Just..."

He gestured about him and after a minute she acquiesced. At first glance, nothing had changed, everything was where it was meant to be. Her bed with her covers, her vanity close to the bed with all her various boxes and ointments. Her changing screen was in place and...

"You moved everything back."

Henry rubbed his hand over his head, standing up. He stayed silent and carried a tray of food to her, placing it down within her reach.

"Eat."

She raised an eyebrow at him. He was embarrassed.

In return for his surrender of her room, she decided she would eat. So, she reached out for the meats and cheeses displayed to her.

"Don't think you have gotten away with not taking care of yourself Catherine, I will still be with you in here."

Her face fell and she frowned at what was in her hand but it was too late and she could already smell the food so she put it in her mouth, chewed it carefully, then as she reached to pick up more she addressed the disappointing news.

"Sit down Henry. Eat."

Thankfully he said nothing more but sat next to her and reached out for the food.

Eventually, when the light outside began to fade, Catherine felt herself drifting off where she sat. When she closed her eyes for the fifth time, a warm hand brought her back.

"Do you want to go to bed Catherine?"

"I would. Could you call Sophia?"

A guilty look flashed over his features.

"I gave her the day off."

"Henry."

He held up his hands in surrender.

"Please Catherine, let's not fight about this."

She glared at him. It was the easiest thing to do in this moment. She could continue arguing with him but she was tired and she supposed he had fed her and given back her room. Low standards, yes, but higher standards than she usually expected of him. She would let him have this, only this.

"Fine."

He held out a hand for her but she stood on her own, making her way over to her vanity, now rightly placed where it should be. She removed her jewels, placing them in the correct places. When she reached up to remove the pins in her hair, she felt Henry's hands against hers.

"May I?"

She dropped her hands. She was curious, so she sat still, watching him in her mirror. The first few hairpins he took snagged in her hair and she frowned, wondering if she should stop him. He seemed to learn though and picked up quickly how best to remove them, taking them out with only one or two more blunders.
As her curls fell around her shoulders and the weight from her hair that she hadn't realised had been so heavy dispersed, she felt herself relax further into her husband's soft touches. His hand ran through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. She watched his reflection, how he seemed almost entranced by her hair, how he spun it around his fingers, letting the curls fall one by one. She watched him gather it into three separate strands, his brow creasing as he braided her hair into a plait, though not without some minor difficulty. When he was done, she handed him a ribbon with which, he quickly secured the hairstyle.

His hand she once again ignored as she stood, making her way behind the changing screen, determined to at least do this one thing. Very quickly however, she found her efforts futile. The corset strings on her back could not be unlaced without help and she suddenly found a new appreciation for Sophia when she felt how many buttons kept her dress from bursting open. She steeled herself, not wanting to face the all too well known smug grin on her husband's face.

"Catherine?"

She heard his steps at edge of the screen and sighed.

"I need help."

She felt his warmth at her back and his fingers began delicately unlacing her clothing. As he did, she did her best not to think of all the ways he had learned to unlace a corset. He was mercifully silent. When her corset was unlaced and the pressure was gone, she suppressed a pleased sigh. The garment was like her shoes, useful, perhaps necessary but always a relief to remove at the end of the day. She felt the edges of her shift lifting and she raised her arms slightly so that it could go over her head. Without it, she was left naked and she fought the urge to hide her body with her hands as a sense of shame filled her. It shouldn't, she had a strong body that had survived so much, that kept her alive so well, that carried her from day to day, that had housed her children, but in front of her husband, a man who bedded only the youngest, prettiest, skinniest women he could get his hands on, some of her usual confidence faded. She waited for him to say something. Something to hurt her. She waited for him to go through their normal routine.

"Catherine."

She watched him as he stared at her, his eyes roaming her body, something she couldn't quite decipher hiding in them and she faltered when he said nothing more, just guided her into her nightdress. It fell over her, hiding her body from his view again. Briefly she wondered if it had been so awful for him to see that he had hastened to cover her up to avoid the sight. Perhaps he was going soft on her because of her injuries.

His hand came up to her shoulder before he pulled it back, clearing his throat.

"Do your dressings need changed?"

She shook her head.

"Not tonight."

He nodded, scratching his head and she found herself wishing for his voice to fill the silence that stood between them. Another person in it's obtrusiveness. He looked away and it broke the spell that had bound them to one spot.

"Put the candles out before you get into bed."

She strode away from him, towards the safety of her covers and the hope of uninterrupted sleep.

"If you insist on staying then you might as well make sure neither of us burns to death."

Chapter Text

The sun streamed through the curtains, falling onto her face and he watched as it scrunched up in annoyance, preparing himself for when her eyes opened and her anger was directed at him. The moment didn't come however, his wife burrowing further into the pillows, hiding away from the light of day. She relaxed once more as her face found shadow to hide in, escaping from the sun.

He stretched out a hand carefully. He brushed his thumb over her forehead, then cupped her cheek, watching for signs that she would awaken. When she didn't, he let his hand drift lower, down her neck, along her collarbone. He fidgeted with the thin fabric of her nightgown. In the good days of their marriage, he had succeeded in convincing her to leave it off when they went to bed together. He had annoyed her endlessly, counting the freckles that adorned her skin, kissing each one as she giggled. He hadn't heard that sound in years but it still rang clearly through his head.

His fingers ghosted over the spot where her injury sat but he traced the edges of the bandage, the place where he remembered the skin being less tanned, marked by a scar from falling out a tree when she was younger. He remembered her face, scrunched up in disgust as she told him how she had gotten in trouble, not for climbing trees but doing so in a new gown.

Slowly his hand dipped beneath the covers till her came to her waist. He wrapped his arm around her, guiding her body to him. She still didn't wake, instead, her sleep muddled muscle memory, forgetting to remind her body that they were no longer, caused her to lean into his touch. As she cuddled closer to him, reaching for the warmth of his body, he let his head rest on hers.

He stared at the light coming through the curtain. He decided that the daylight must be the most evil of all. In sleep he could dream that the past had not happened yet. At night he still had his wife and she still had him but when the day came and woke him, he was forced to acknowledge that even as close as they were now, they had probably never been further apart.

Henry closed his eyes, willing his body to go back to sleep, just to let him dream for a little longer. Holding his wife close to him, even in the light of day, he could almost forget.

Chapter Text

She woke up alone. This she was glad for.

She had kept her eyes closed for longer than she had meant to, savouring a dream where the past had come back. She had dreamt that Henry had been with her, his fingers trailing over her body till he drew her close to him. She had dreamt that she was in his arms and she had felt safe. That wouldn't happen anymore. That couldn't happen anymore. He was her husband still but he was also Diane's and Kenna's and all the other women that she had lost track of over the years. He could never be satisfied as her husband and she could never trust him to stay.

But it had felt so good to dream.

Even now as she lay, fingers fiddling with the edge of his pillow, she breathed in the lingering smell of him, imagined that this was their marriage bed and he was coming back for her, not just for distraction.

It felt good to pretend.

Chapter Text

(In past years)

As the king looked around the room, his mistress at his side, the sound of laughter reached his ears and he turned his head to find its source. His wife was speaking with a visiting Italian dignitary who had a large grin on his face and an even bigger reputation. The king often caught the whispers of court that gossiped that this count was well known for charming any lady he saw, many of them already married. Another laugh sounded and he frowned as the dignitary touched the arm of his wife.

Standing, he shooed his mistress away and took purposeful strides to his wife, glaring at the Italian man beside her. How dare another man touch his wife, she was married, she was his.

He strode over and stood beside her, placing his arm around her shoulders, casting a purposeful glare at the Italian standing in front of him.

"Catherine dear, I've been waiting for a dance from you all evening. I see you found someone to keep you company."

He placed an insincere, false smile on his face and addressed the man standing before him.

"Thank you Sir, for keeping my wife company, however, I shall have to steal her away from your, no doubt, fascinating conversation."

"Henry."

His wife hissed at him and fixed him with her own very special kind of glare, but he didn't pay attention, keeping his focus on the man in front of him who, dipped his head and left. Catherine struggled away from him and continued glaring.

"You cannot be serious Henry. Do you realise how rude you've just been, can't you stay over on the other side of the room with your simpering feebleminded playthings that you use to bolster your oversized head?"

"Dance with me Catherine."

She blinked, fury written all over her face.

"Excuse me."

He held his hand out. She blinked then frowned at it as though trying to decipher what it meant.

"For heaven's sakes Catherine, one dance."

She sighed and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she decided how much she didn't want to do this and if it was or wasn't enough to refuse in front of a hall of visiting diplomats.

Barely a few seconds passed for the rest of the hall but for him it felt like an eternity.

"Fine."

She took his hand. It was small against his and he ran his thumb over the back of it feeling her smooth skin. Leading her onto the dance floor, they found their way into the middle. As they bowed to one another and the musicians got ready to play, whispers rose around them and he watched his wife's brow furrow at the sound. Unlike the image she liked to project, he knew she didn't like people talking about them, around them, and she cared what people thought about them, her. It was unusual to see the royal couple dance together for anything but the first dance.

He held her close to him. His hand at the curve of her waist and his head leaning down to her cheek.

"You look dazzling tonight Catherine."

Her foot found its way to his shin. Remarkably, she did not miss a step as they dance around the deserted dance floor as she did.

"Save it for Diane."

He chuckled, letting the sound rumble in his throat. He didn't miss the way she tensed in his hold and he grinned, using her distraction to kiss her neck quickly and spin her before she could kick him again.

This was a dance they did often. Metaphorically of course. But occasions like these lit something between them. This time he had started it. Catherine was his and the Italian dignitary could keep his paws of her.

He led them through the dance faster as his anger boiled thinking about the man's smug face. The musicians sped up to match and he felt Catherine do the same. They moved across and around the dance floor in a smooth practiced motion. Even as he spun them faster, she kept up. It felt like a competition between them, he went faster and she showed him he wasn't fast enough. They fell into their own world, the rest of the hall falling away; just him and Catherine in their own fierce fight. And then she laughed.

They had reached a speed which was just before ridiculous but fast enough that their guests wouldn't forget the impressive performance of the king and queen of France.

And she was laughing.

She had a glint in her eye, one he was familiar with. One he loved even if he hated the situation. It was one she got whenever she was excited, thrilled about something. Usually that meant she planned to poison someone. But as he led them both around, he laughed with her. Poison was not on either of their minds.

When the music came to an end, she leaned on him as they both breathed heavy, catching their breaths. She watched him with the same glint in her eye and for a moment their little bubble persisted. But then their audience woke up from their stupor and clapped.

He wanted to yell, to shout at them all to shut up. He and his wife didn't get along except for moments like these. He savoured moments like these, enjoyed them the way children enjoyed their favourite treat. Reaching out for it with greedy fingers and devouring it, devouring the moment. But like sweets it didn't last, engulfed and gone too soon. Their moment ended and Catherine stepped back, dipping down in a curtsey and he mirrored her, bowing low and extending a hand to lead her of the dance floor again. She took it as others filled the space and they separated.

He went back to Diane and she went to a group of her ladies, her flying squadron or whatever she called them. He watched her the rest of the night however, she stayed carefully away from the Italian who had flirted with her, in return, he left Diane to herself at the end of the night.

The halls were quiet, flames that lit them slowly flickering, burning themselves out as he walked past them. The next shift of guards and servants would be correcting that soon.

He nodded at the guards, dismissing them quietly. Opening the door, he waited until the footsteps faded before closing it again.

"And here I thought you were going to be stupid enough to just leave me here."

Catherine sat at her vanity in a nightgown. He leant down to kiss her shoulder.

"Not this time, wife."