In and out. In and out.

Unconsciously, my lungs breathed for me. Air pulled in and out of my lips like waves crashing and pulling away from shore.

I heard the soft sounds of my breaths, before I recognized the familiar red membranes of my eyelids.

My eyes struggled to open. Instead of opening in a fluid motion, they rolled and shook around as I looked at . . . somewhere? The room was so blurry and hazy, my eyes couldn't focus.

"Mary?"

I looked up and saw the blurry outline of Francis' face.

"Fran—Fran—" I struggled to speak. What's wrong with me?

"Shhh, it's alright," Francis said, kneeling next to the bed. He cupped my right hand between both of his, and pressed it to his lips. "Everything is going to be alright."

In a daze, I nodded. There wasn't much of another choice. I could either go along with Francis' theory that I was better or admit to the vast confusion I felt.

At some point, Nostradamus showed up—I think.

"Your Majesty, I'm happy to see you're awake," Nostradamus said as he approached the bed.

I tried to nod, but based on Francis' reaction, even as blurred as it was, I could tell it wasn't satisfactory. My mind was tired, and my body was sore. It was a challenge in itself to stay awake..

"Mary?" Nostradamus said with unusual hesitance.

I squinted my eyes and shook my head, trying to clear away the fog.

"Yes?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "You said my name?"

Nostradamus' blur frowned.

"I did. Did you hear what I said before that?"

"No," I said slowly, glancing at where Francis stood in silence.

Nostradamus placed his hand on my forehead. My body shivered from his cold touch.

"You're still burning up," he said with surprise.

Francis interjected, "But didn't you say she would only wake once the fever had broken?" His voice sounded stressed.

"I did, but it appears I was wrong."

"What does it mean if the fever hasn't gone away?" Francis asked with audible concern.

"It means your wife got lucky," Nostradamus said, stepping away from my bedside.

If I wasn't so drained, I would have laughed.

"I'm not sure about that," I barely managed to say in a weak voice.

My eyelids drooped, and I heard Francis rush to my side.

"Mary?" He spoke, slightly shaking my shoulder. "Mary?!" His voice got louder after I closed my eyes and didn't respond. "Mary!"

I'm tired, I wanted to say.

But nothing came from my tongue.

"Stop it, Francis," Nostradamus said. My heart jumped—he never used Francis' first name. He'd always preferred Francis' official title. "If the fever hasn't broken yet, her immune system is still very weak. She needs rest so her body can finish fighting off the infection."

"It's been a week!" Francis hissed.

His voice was quiet and controlled; I could tell he was trying to not disturb me in my half-awake state.

"You can not put a timeline on the body, Your Majesty. It does many extraordinary things medicine can not explain. You must exert patience, while your wife recovers from the infection. Added stress will only make her condition worse."

With as much determination as I could muster, I forced my eyelids open, and struggled to sit up in bed.

"Mary?" Francis said.

Immediately, his hands were on my shoulders, supporting my weight, so I could comfortably rest my back against the bed frame.

"Thank you," I croaked, sinking against the comfortable fabric. "Nostradamus, you are dismissed. But first, I must thank you for everything you've done for me. If it wasn't for you, I may not still be alive."

"Indeed," Francis agreed, turning towards him. "You saved my wife's life, and I will never be able to repay you for it. I owe you my life."

Nostradamus bowed his head in grace. "You owe me nothing. I may not have been able to save my wife, but it was an honor to save yours. Take care, Your Majesties."

He bowed once more, before exiting the chambers.

The first thing Francis did, when the door closed, was cup my face.

"You're as pale as a sheet," he said. "If I hadn't seen your rosy flush before with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed such a color to be possible."

I placed my hand on top of his, on my cheek, and smiled.

"It's better to be alive than beautiful."

Francis smiled and kissed my forehead.

"You've always been beautiful, Mary—inside and out. Even now, that is all I see." He paused, pulling away from me just enough so I could focus on the blue in his eyes. "You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

"And you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Francis Valois. All of the light in France pales in comparison to your heart. My own beauty fades away in your presence. Not because you are King and I am Queen, but because your love is so pure, it can not be defined by something as incidental as rank. If you weren't the King of France, and I was just a girl, not the queen of anything, you would still love me as I love you now," I said.

"I would."

He pressed his lips against mine, and my heart exploded with joy. Soft. Warm. Safe. He tucked stray hairs behind my ear, and I placed my hand on the back of his neck, pulling his face closer to mine.

"I love you," I breathed.

Hot air blew against my cheek.

"So much," he agreed, kissing me on the lips.

After only a few minutes of gentle affection, Francis pulled away from me with a remorseful expression.

"What's wrong?" I said. "Aren't you happy? Aren't we happy?"

I frowned.

"No, No! We are," he reassured me too quickly, taking a seat on the bed. "But you need to rest, and engaging in other activities won't expedite your recovery."

I looked at him for a moment with raised eyebrows, before a smile pulled up the corners of my mouth.

"So you're playing physician, now?"

Francis rolled his eyes.

"Call it, 'concerned husband,' if you will. Whatever it takes to help you recover has my vested interest."

Vested interest?

I watched Francis' shoulders straighten into a perfect rod and his face settle into a passive mask. The perfect king. The perfect stubborn king, who made an equally stubborn son.

"Francis . . ." I warned with a suspicious expression. "What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything, Mary." He sighed.

"I may have been unconscious for the last week, but I'm not stupid. Both of us should be dead right now. The castle should have fallen to Conde's rebel army days ago . . ." I trailed off, watching intently for his reaction.

"These aren't things for you to worry about," he said. "France is safe, secure, and Conde is no longer a threat. Please, rest? I can't bear to see you so ill."

Conde isn't a threat? So it was true, then?

"Louis actually surrendered?" I asked, staring straight at Francis.

He furrowed his eyebrows.

"How did you hear about that?"

"I heard you and Nostradamus talking about it earlier today," I said.

I glanced at the door. Now, it was too easy to imagine Nostradamus working over my unconscious body, healing me from the silent infection that could have killed me, had he not been there. Chills made my spine quiver.

I could have died.

I would have been dead, my life over, no Francis, no children, no crown. I would have been alone and cold. Everything I loved, everything I worked so hard to protect, would have vanished faster than it takes me to blink.

"Mary . . ." Francis hesitated, "That conversation took place days ago. You must have briefly broken consciousness and overheard us."

My heart raced in my chest. Days ago?

"I—I didn't realize," I said.

"You wouldn't have. That conversation took place during the peak of your fever. You were hallucinating every few hours. Nostradamus wasn't sure . . . if you were going to make it." His voice broke on the last few words in a way that ripped my heart into tiny little pieces. There was so much pain, so much sorrow and remorse in his voice that I wasn't sure that I would ever be able to forget it.

"But I did, Francis." I reached out for his hand. I clasped my fingers around his hand and pulled it to my heart. "I'm right here, I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Mary. You're far from fine."

He tugged his hand from my grasp. He proceeded to stand up from the bed and pace the room.

"Francis, calm down. Please?" I said.

His fingers combed through his blond curls as he ignored me.

"I can't calm down! Not while he still breathes! Not while he is under my castle, eating under my roof!"

"Our castle," I said quietly. "Our home. Is it Conde that you speak of? Is he why you're so upset?"

"Of course he is! Look at you! Look at what his actions have done to you! You weren't just sick when the guards found you, Mary" he said. In only a few seconds, his face aged decades. It would take Francis' sibling years to understand the torment that possessed his face now. "The guards thought you were dead. The first words from their lips were, 'I'm so sorry, Your Majesty.' Do you think I'll ever forget that? The feeling of knowing my wife is dead?"

He shook his head as tears dripped from his eyes.

"I know I can't change the suffering that you've endured," I said. "But, at least, let me help you forget it. I'm right here, Francis. I'm right here."

Sobs wracked his body, and he crouched to the floor with his hands covering his face.

"Francis . . ." I whispered on the verge of tears.

His loud, uneven sobs filled the room, and my heart shattered, piece by piece, until I was crying with him.

"Francis, please," I cried, desperately reaching for him. "I'm here. I'm here," I repeated in a comforting tone.

"I can't—I don't know how to—" he erratically muttered as his hand massaged his forehead.

"Francis, look at me," I said.

I wiped away any remaining tears as I stared at my husband.

"I—" He looked up at me with tears in her light blue eyes. It was enough to break my heart. Have I truly caused him so much pain?

"Look at me. Only at me," I said, fighting the urge to cry.

For once, he needed me to be strong, while he felt weak. I had never seen Francis break down like this before. It was equal parts concerning and frightening.

"Mary?" he croaked in an uneasy voice, watching me like a lost child.

"I'm right here, Francis." I patted the bed beside me, signaling for him to come lay beside me. "I'm right here."

Slow and begrudging, he stood stiffly from the ground and walked towards the bed. Without speaking, he sat down on the other side with his back turned away from me.

"Mary, I'm so sorry. I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am."

A short gasp fell from my lips. Was he being serious?

"Sorry? What could you possibly be sorry for?"

He peeked at me over his shoulder and sighed, quickly turning away again.

"I shouldn't have lost control like that. You didn't need to see that, after everything. . . ."

"Nothing I've endured compares to what you went through," I said in a quiet voice. "I can't live without you, Francis, anymore than you can without me. If I thought, even for a moment, that you were dead, I don't—I don't know what I'd do. But I am certain that an outburst would be the least of it.

"I'm your wife; Please, let me be. I know . . . I wasn't here for quite some days, but I am now. That's all that matters, Francis. I'm here, and right now, we have all the time in the world, when only a week ago, we were certain of our deaths. Let's take advantage of it—because I've been given a second chance, and I don't plan on wasting a moment of it."

Francis' head bowed and eventually, after a long pause of silence, he nodded in agreement.

"You're right. I'm just being—"

"A king?" I said with a knowing smile.

Francis turned around with a curious smile on his face. Instantly, warmth pervaded my chest. Oh, how I'd missed his contagious smile.

"Actually, I was going to say, 'a husband,' but I think I like your answer better," he said

"You do?" I said as he crawled on the bed and laid beside me.

"Yes."

"How come?"

I turned my body towards him so both of us were laying on our side, gazing into each others' eyes.

"Because you said it, and I love you," Francis said.

I smiled and closed my eyes as he pulled me into his arms, holding me close to his chest.

"I love you, Francis," I whispered into his collar.

"As I love you, my love."

AN: December 30, 2021 at 7:55 pm is when I started the google document for this novella. Back then, this was going to be nothing more than a well-written short story, and somewhere along the way, it became something so much more.

The first need you're satisfying as a writer when writing fanfiction is your own because you have no personal gain from it. You can't publish it, all you risk it criticism. Fortunately, I have been met with nothing with praise and love from all of you, for which I am very grateful. I appreciate every vote, every comment on this story because not only does it mean that you liked what you read, it gives other the opportunity to find this book and read it too :)

At this point, the book has reached 20,610 words, which is still beyond crazy to me. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of drafts of 40k+ stories that have gone nowhere, but the fact that I'm still so invested in this story to the point where I feel excited instead of drained is wild to me. 

With that comes the clear question of what comes beyond this point . . .

And honestly, I don't know. The primary conflict is over. I still need to write out the details explaining what happened/will happen to Conde, but that isn't enough content for another 20k words. At this point, I am planning for an additional 9 chapters. I don't know what will be in those chapters, and where they may lead me, but that is my goal. Keep in mind 9 chapters with 2k words each is roughly another 18,000 words, so there is plenty of room for content to be worked in.

Is there anything you really want to see? I can't promise to add anything, but I would love to hear requests. Even if they don't become part of the next nine chapters, I'm not against one-shots. You guys have been such a big part of my life for the past two months, I would love to hear your thoughts!

Lastly, other than thanking all of you for being incredible humans who have supported me for all of this time, I would just like to mention that I do give special updates/special content on my instagram elly_6431. There you can find early access to my writing on my story, the option for Q and A's, etc.

I hope you have an amazing day, and as always, I hope to see you next week!

-Elly6431