Chapter Text
Hadrian’s Wall, Anglo-Scottish Border
It was a sunny summer day, or as sunny as it could get in the Highlands this north from France. The Royal Carriage halted to a stop at the Western End, somewhere near Newcastle; along with an entire retinue of carriages belonging to nobles that accompanied the Queen Mother to become a part of their King’s delegation, horses marked with the Fleur de lis, the French flag and banners held by guards and soldiers made for a grand arrival. After a long carriage ride from the most abandoned port in Scotland, Catherine de Medici stepped out of her carriage with her son Prince Charles in tow. Her mink-lined boots trudged into the mud and the hem of her ebony velvet gown just barely escaped the same treatment.
“When will they get here? It’s midday, we should reach Durham by nightfall if we have any hope of attending the Conference tomorrow.”
“If I know Francis and Mary… they probably had a late night.”
Charles snarked, earning a smack on the head for his jape.
Then Lady Lola and Lady Greer stepped out from their own carriage to stretch their legs. Catherine couldn’t help but feel smug at the visage of the Lord Chancellor being stuck in a carriage with his colleagues because his wife refused to travel with him.
“Perhaps the princes gave them some trouble, I can still hear the way Jean cried when I was leaving, James and Edward are even more attached to their parents.”
“I wish there was an option to bring my nephews, I miss the troublesome little lads.”
Catherine scoffed.
“And risk having my grandsons anywhere near Elizabeth and her followers? We need no such vulnerability these next few days. There is nothing Elizabeth likes more than an easy target.”
“It’s a talent really Catherine, how you can turn even your treason into something useful. All this inside information you have on English Court is only because you were consorting with our enemy.”
Greer cut in, she was the only one aware of the reason for Lola’s sorrow and she couldn’t stand to lose the chance to point out Catherine’s hypocrisy.
“It is the Medici way, my dear. My talents and skills are what make me so invaluable to my sovereign king.”
Their terse discussion was soon put to rest when the rest of their travelling companions joined them, there was no use showing discontent before the rest of the court, this was family business and must be kept private. Not wanting to wait like fools, they decided to have a light lunch before the King and Queen arrived and they had to be on their way.
It was less than an hour later than they felt the ground shake; the horses neighed at the sound of hooves and the French delegation gathered in attention. Catherine squinted her eyes to shield them against the burning sun as she looked to the large host heading their way. About half a dozen carriages could be seen behind a couple of horses at the front of the retinue, Catherine could make out at least fifty armed men carrying different banners of Scottish noble houses. The highest of the banners were the Royal coat of arms and Scotland’s flag but it was the head of the travellers that made the Queen Mother pause. The sun glinted off the golden-haired man seated atop his dark stead; her son was riding at the front and next to him was none other than the Queen of Scots herself.
“Those honourable fools!”
She cursed at their bold actions, to travel unprotected for all of Scotland and England to see was such an unnecessary security risk. When the King and Queen finally reached the rest of their party, they dismounted with little delay and rushed forward to meet the rest of their family. Prince Charles met his brother halfway to pull him into an enthusiastic hug while Queen Mary’s ladies rushed to her side.
“Francis… where is your crown?”
For the gold and ruby headpiece was not the one that her son inherited from his father.
“Mother… I hope you are well.”
Francis greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek, earning himself a fond smile. Catherine was pleasantly surprised when her daughter-in-law’s greeting followed the same affectionate manner. Perhaps she could regain her place by their side after all.
“Better now that I see you are healthier than before.”
“Ah yes! The Scots know how to fatten a man, they have such hearty meals.”
“I’m glad… thank you for looking after my son, daughter.”
Mary’s eyes brightened at the gratitude.
“It was my honour and my pleasure.”
The short reunion was interrupted by the arrival of Lord James, urging them to move their party for the road.
“We must make haste; we will journey for the rest of the day and make camp before sundown to freshen up before our arrival at Durham Castle.”
James was the self-appointed manager of their delegation, as the Queen’s brother and her closest advisor, he was the perfect man for the job. Before departing for the rest of their journey, they made a few introductions to ease the communication. The Scottish council members consisted of the Duke of Hamilton, Earl of Crawford, Duke of Fife and Earl of Bothwell. The French council members included the Lord Chancellor, Lord Grenier, Lord Clavelle and the Duke of Normandy. All the members of the delegation settled in an orderly fashion so they may continue onward to their journey.
It was all coming to a head and finally after years of manipulations and wars; the two Queens would be face to face.
Durham Castle, England
When Queen Elizabeth saw the lone horse arrive at the gates of the castle, she knew that the time had come to greet their guests. Lord Ambassador Nicolas had ridden ahead to alert his Queen of the arrival of the Scottish and French delegation to ensure proper receiving customs were followed. The vast gardens of the castle were decorated with fresh blooms and banners of all three nations and their royal houses. The pathway was lit with burning braziers and when the English Queen arrived with her party to receive their guests, the trumpets sounded.
Merely moments later, the path to the castle was crowded with horses, carriages and footmen carrying their own banners. Elizabeth scanned the procession for the royal carriage but she couldn’t find it, instead the sound of a horn echoed and the men parted for two stallions; one black and one white. The English Queen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the arrival of her rival; she had expected a grand carriage and a figure in opulent finery. Queen Mary was dressed in an intricate satin and velvet gown of the richest plum, it had a slit in the centre to reveal black breeches to make it easier for riding, on her head she wore a gold crown with patterns of lilies-the crown of the French Queen. Her husband’s horse came to a stop beside hers and Elizabeth knew then that the rumours of King Francis’s disabilities were false; the King of France looked nothing like a weak or sickly child and the way his eyes scanned the crowd for threats made it obvious that he was not a man to underestimate. He dismounted from his stead to help his wife down; their matching velvet attires made them striking and regal.
Mary watched in trepidation as her gaze landed on the red-haired woman who stepped forward; her ruby and gold gown elaborately detailed, her grand crown atop a bed of auburn curls. She had heard that the English Queen was unsightly, her appearance disagreeable and more akin to a man than a woman but in Mary’s opinion her cousin was lovely. She had an aura of grace and radiance that the rumours clearly disregarded out of disrespect.
Both Queens moved until they were face to face, finally within speaking distance and for a moment it felt as if the world had stilled. The chatter of their companions silenced, nothing could be heard except the flickering of flames, the rustle of leaves and their own breathing. Everyone watched with bated breath, eager to see what would become of this meeting.
“Queen Mary.”
The Tudor queen broke the silence in her deep baritone.
“Queen Elizabeth.”
The younger of the two replied in her lyrical voice.
“Quite an army you have brought with you, cousin.”
Mary’s cheeks widened in an insincere smile.
“I like to call them peacekeepers… it has a certain non-aggressive ring to it, don’t you think?”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up at her cousin’s cheek and she smirked, if this was how they wanted to play it then who was she to spoil the fun? She shifted her attention to the man behind the Queen of Scots.
“King Francis… welcome to England.”
“You have a beautiful country, your grace.”
Once the stiff pleasantries were out of the way; the King and Queen’s retinue was shown inside. A whole wing of the castle was readied for the guests, with grand accommodations for the monarchs. Queen Elizabeth and her secretary Lord William led the tour.
“I know you must be tired from your journey cousin, but I have arranged a small banquet for your arrival. I hope you and your companions would join us.”
Elizabeth addressed Mary. Not wanting to appear ungrateful or difficult, the Queen of Scots accepted the invitation with grace.
“Wonderful! I shall leave you to it then… if you need any help Lady Jane will be at your service.”
The English Queen gestured to the lady’s maid at her side, the girl bowed before the King and Queen awkwardly. Soon enough, the only people left were Mary, Francis and Jane.
“The banquet will begin in an hour; can I help you with anything?”
Francis regarded the girl with a gentle smile.
“Thank you, Lady Jane, you need only help us find our way around. You don’t have to wait on us.”
When Francis and Mary were finally left alone in their suite, the first thing she did was remove her boots and breeches. Sighing in relief, Mary hopped on the soft bed, stretching her bare legs on the cool silk sheets after a long day of horse riding. Francis was in the process of removing his own clothing until he only wore his tunic and breeches, he watched his wife in amusement and tried not to think of how similar she looked like a cat.
“I told you not to ride all the way here, we should’ve spent at least some of the journey in the carriage.”
She shook her head at him, swatting at him when he reached to poke at her shoulder teasingly.
“I needed to be seen riding with my people, I needed the nobles to know that yes I am a woman, but I have the heart of a King.”
“No one would begrudge you if you took a break, there is no need to bend over backwards trying to prove yourself to anyone.”
Mary leaned her head on his shoulder with a yawn while Francis played with her fingers.
“I know that but didn’t you see how impressed my cousin was when she saw me on horseback? She expected a delicate flower, a puppet queen for the men around her but now she knows that I am just as stubborn and powerful as her.”
Francis hummed in agreement, it was nice to see the surprise on the woman’s face when she saw his wife for the first time; Elizabeth wasn’t the first person to underestimate Mary and she won’t be the last. Every time it happened, Francis took great pleasure in watching as their opponents realise that the Queen of France and Scotland is a force to be reckoned with.
“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”
Mary stifled another yawn, her eyes misted with exhaustion.
“Alright but just for a few minutes, I don’t want us to be late.”
He pulled her closer so that she could rest her head completely on his chest, his lips placing gentle kisses along her hairline.
“Sleep, my love.”
They made it to the banquet just in time, a few moments more and they would have been late. Seeing as they were guests at English Court, it would’ve been height of rudeness to be anything other than punctual. The feast was elaborate and hearty, just as expected from one of the most powerful nations in Europe. Most of the dining was spent chatting amongst themselves, no one was brave enough to initiate conversation with their hosts. Mary could feel her cousin’s eyes on her all throughout dinner and she wasn’t sure why but it felt like she was on display before all of the English Court. Once the dining portion of the festivities ended, they were all ushered to an adjoining ballroom.
The floors were waxed to perfection and servers were waiting with trays of wine goblets for everyone while a band of musicians played soft melodies. Queen Elizabeth raised her glass in her cousin’s direction with a cocked eyebrow and curled lips.
“I hear the King and Queen of France and Scotland are enchanting dancers; tales of your touching display made it to my court as well. Would you do us the honour of opening for us tonight?”
Mary turned to her husband in apprehension, not sure what this was about. Was her cousin genuinely interested in watching them dance or was it a roundabout way of making a fool of her? Instead of objecting to the request like she’d though he’d do, Francis merely offered her his hand, leading her to the centre of the ballroom as the initial notes of a symphony began to play. They danced the same waltz that they did the day Antoine learned of Francis’s illness. There was a vast difference between the mood of the dancers; before every step was taken with care while Mary led the dance, there were steps missed to make up for his lack of movement or energy. That dance was mournful and sobering but this one? It was fluid and celebratory, every dip and twirl was made perfectly. Mary’s face was stretched into a dazzling smile as her husband spun her around the ballroom, lifting her up with such ease. Her champagne gold gown flared as she danced, the uncountable crystals sewn into her skirts glittered under the chandelier’s light; she contrasted beautifully with her husband’s burgundy attire. They made quite the picture, dancing in harmony with the lovely music.
And when the dance came to its climax, instead of bowing as was customary her husband surprised them all by lowering himself until he was on his knees. The King of France and Scotland, a powerful man in a court full of men who despised bowing before a woman, kneeling before his wife. It was a clear message of intent for the following day of negotiations, that no one could bribe France to abandon its alliance, for Francis was firmly in his Queen’s corner.
When the song ended, Mary and Francis were surprised to notice that sometime during their own dance, many courtiers had moved to join them. They were so lost in the melody and on another they didn’t even realise they no longer danced alone. It brought a sense of relief for both of them, made them feel less like they were a prized pony at an auction. Husband and wife took advantage of the freely flowing alcohol to chat with the English courtiers. Mary in particular was pulled into dances with many Englishmen, including Ambassador Nicolas. It was her recent dance partner that intrigued her the most; Lord Robert Dudley.
“Lord Dudley! I hear I have my cousin to blame for not making your acquaintance sooner.”
The man’s eyebrows knitted at her cheeky greeting as they began an allemande.
“I’m confused, your grace.”
“We received word that you were to be made the English Ambassador for France; but then Lord Nicolas arrived.”
Dudley smiled in response to her bright countenance.
“Ah I see… it wasn’t the Queen’s doing actually, my wife was hesitant to part from court and I was hesitant to part from her.”
Mary tried to keep in her grin at the way his voice wavered at the mention of her cousin; it appears Catherine was right about her cousin’s affair.
“You made the right call; us wives tend to want our husbands close and the smart men always keep their wives happy.”
“Does King Francis listen to his wife?”
Dudley teased Mary, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“King Francis is a very smart man.”
Dudley twirled his partner.
“Your husband is a very lucky man.”
“He sure is Lord Dudley… but don’t underestimate yourself, your wife must be so busy fighting off enamoured court ladies vying for your attention. I know I would’ve been.”
The Lord’s cheeks flushed at the compliment.
“You are quite the charmer Queen Mary.”
“And you are an excellent dancer, I’m glad we got to meet. I hope some day Lady Dudley will wish to visit France; Paris is not called the City of Love for nothing.”
“Thank you for the invitation, we might visit after all.”
The two unlikely companions shared a grin. Although, not everyone was as pleased with their dance partners; Francis had decided to make the diplomatic decision to ask Queen Elizabeth to share a dance with him. On the other end of the ballroom, unbeknownst to Mary, her cousin glared daggers at her back while she danced with Elizabeth’s lover.
“Does it not bother you, your grace? That your wife is so candid and coy with the men around her.”
Francis’s smile turned sour at the sudden change in conversation; he and Elizabeth were sharing fond childhood memories and trying to make pleasant conversation, despite their complicated political position. It seemed that Mary’s playful dance with Lord Dudley brought the Tudor Queen’s claws out.
“On the contrary, I am proud to be married to one of the most beautiful women in Europe.”
“So, there are no feelings of jealousy stirred up? She has spent the evening with more than six gentlemen, aren’t you worried?”
He knew what Elizabeth was trying to do, his mother was the one to let slip Mary’s mistakes to her cousin, she wanted him to confess something that could be used to discredit his wife; to make her bend in the negotiations tomorrow. There was a time when Francis might have been annoyed but his wife was covered in his scent, to put it crudely, why on earth would he care if she danced with another man? He was the reason she was glowing so enchantingly in the first place.
“I trust my wife, Queen Elizabeth. There is nothing wrong with sharing a playful dance with your neighbours, it’s a wonderful way to make new friends. Just as we are doing right now.”
“I thought after her relations with the Prince of Conde…”
Elizabeth had little time to finish her statement when she was pulled in closer to the King of France, his breath tickled her ear while he murmured his next words.
“Choose your next words very wisely, your majesty. Whatever my mother said was nothing more than an overexaggerated account of the real events, and she was more than forthcoming about your personal life as well. You wouldn’t want someone to air out your secrets now, would you?”
Elizabeth’s nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed.
“Are you implying something? Do you truly think it wise to threaten me before my court?”
Francis’s face brightened in a dazzling smile, no one watching from a distance could ever comprehend the tone of their conversation by his expressions.
“Of course not, that wouldn’t be very stateman-like, would it? I am simply advising you against slandering a fellow Queen.”
“Slander or truth?”
“It must sting terribly to see him enjoying her company openly… Mary has been here less than mere hours and already she has managed to enchant half of your nobility.”
“You arrogant…”
Francis jerked her into a final spin, ending the dance with a bow.
“It was wonderful to chat with you cousin, I look forward to seeing you at the conference tomorrow.”
With a wink and a satisfied smirk, Francis strode off to find his wife. He had successfully ruffled her feathers, just enough to make her nervous about tomorrow. Let Elizabeth and her advisors panic, let them watch as Mary works the English nobility and grasp at straws to neutralise her. Mary may not be as bold or ruthless or as cunning as Elizabeth but she was much kinder, approachable and so much more endearing. If there was one thing that the French were famous for, it’s selling glamour and that was all they needed to endear them to the nobles or they will never get a beneficial deal.
The next morning was spent in the parlour given to their delegation; Francis and Mary had decided to discuss their terms and conditions with their advisors before the official meeting to be held that afternoon. The Councilmen were seated while Stephane read through a provisional proposal. The King’s Deputy watched the occupants of the room as he leaned against the doorframe, his hand on the pommel of his sword.
“Of course, the first thing will be the withdrawal of troops from Scotland for a permanent cease-fire. We will demand that all French and Scottish prisoners of war be released.”
“We should push for war reparations; how many territories have been completely desolated by English attacks?”
Mary added for Stephane to edit in the draft.
“On more thing, France and Scotland have both suffered from English interference in government and politics.”
Catherine chimed in from where she was lounging on a cushy chair with a goblet filled with wine. Stephane sent her an irritated glare, all too aware that she was the cause of his estrangement from Lola.
“What? I am right, how many times have we faced complications because Elizabeth’s envoys were making things difficult? Scotland’s biggest problem is how protestants turn to her instead of Mary.”
“The Queen Mother is correct; the protestants prefer Elizabeth so they are not willing to give my sister a chance…”
“That is because to them, I am a Catholic Queen.”
James shook his head.
“You are religiously tolerant but until Elizabeth backs off, our protestant Scots and even French will never give you the chance to prove it.”
“Very well, add it to the proposal Narcisse, no English interference in our national affairs.”
Francis nodded to the Lord Chancellor, urging him to make the addition. He was unsure as to the reason behind the tension between his mother and the nobleman but he decided to deal with it later, there was no point in stirring up drama before such an important meeting.
Lord Bothwell was one of the silent observers of the conversation, his eyes darting back and forth between the members of the royal family. The way the Duke de Poitiers scanned the room for any threats or the way Catherine de Medici’s serpent tongue made every man uneasy.
“Forgive me for the intrusion my queen, but what do you plan on doing if they ask you to relinquish your claim to England?”
Every person in the parlour jerked in attention at his question. The King and Queen exchanged a solemn glance as their conversation that morning flashed before their eyes.
“What will you do if Elizabeth asks you to give up your claim to the English throne?”
Francis asked as they lay in bed, curled up under the covers before they had to get up for the day.
“If my claim to England is the only thing standing in the way of peace then I’ll have to relinquish it, won’t I? It would be the right thing to do.”
“Mary... your claim to England is your most precious possession. Think twice before giving it away.”
She reached up to press a chaste kiss to his swollen lips.
“It’s not... you are my most precious possession.”
“Am I?”
“Uh huh... our children, our family and our life here. I won’t jeopardize it in the hopes that if a thousand calamities aligned, I would someday sit the English throne. You know me... I never had any ambition for my cousin’s nation.”
“You just wanted to be safe... to protect the people you love.”
“And I will... no sacrifice is too great for my family and my people.”
“I will make the decision that is best for my country, if relinquishing my claim to England is what must be done then I will not hesitate.”
Catherine sat up straight at her daughter-in-law’s admission, her glare apparent to everyone.
“Do not be a fool, Mary.”
“Mother!”
Francis admonished her, she couldn’t just treat Mary like a child before their nobility.
“No Francis! You’re both making a terrible mistake.”
Mary stood tall as her mother-in-law rose from her seat to face her.
“I have made my decision Catherine. I will not let my selfishness be the cause of any more bloodshed.”
“We will always have bloodshed; you can’t seriously believe that England will honour their promise of peace. The English are Imperialists and invaders, they will never rest until they rule every part of this isle.”
“That is what the treaty and our demands are about, once we reach an accord, they are bound to uphold it.”
“They will never give up on Scotland Mary. Mark my words; whether it’s days, months or years from now; you will have to go to war with England.”
“Mother is right.”
Francis reluctantly agreed to Catherine’s stance, his eyes met his wife’s and her betrayal was expressed quite explicitly through her face.
“We have no guarantee that England will uphold their end; which is why we must do everything to make the fighting end. Even if it means that Mary has to relinquish her claim.”
“Exactly… wait what? Francis! Do you even hear yourself?”
Mary’s lips curved in a hint of a smile that made Bash grin mischievously; it was always amusing to see Francis run circles around his mother, showing her that he was just as clever as her.
“If Scotland has any hope of surviving a future conflict, we need to replenish our resources; here and in France.”
“It’s a solid plan, using a cease-fire to build up our armies and strengthen our economy will make us stronger in the long run.”
Stephane stepped in with his own two cents, the Lord Narcisse was shrewd and an excellent statesman, he could see the merit behind such a plan.
“We need this is armistice more than anything because at this rate, France and Scotland cannot sustain this war and we will lose. I would rather have a chance at peace then send so many of our men to die for my claim.”
“You are going to regret this.”
Catherine warned Mary.
“No I won’t; I have made the difficult choice to give up my ambitions for the greater good. I will not allow my children to inherit my wars, James and Edward will rule in a time of peace because of my sacrifice and that is what you do for the people you love.”
Francis moved to stand by his wife as she stood before his mother, his eyes scanning every member of their delegation one by one.
“Your Queen and I will do whatever is necessary to ensure the protection and survival of our two nations. We need your trust and your oath that every single one of you will stand by our decision; that you will honour the treaties that will be signed today.”
One by one, the Scottish and French councilmen stood up to bow in fealty and respect. Bash watched in awe and pride as his brother and sister-in-law radiated with boldness, knowing in his heart that his monarchs deserved every bit of their subjects’ loyalty. God save anyone who dared to cross them.
That very afternoon, after a delightful luncheon, the French and Scottish delegation followed their English hosts into a large meeting chamber. Elizabeth sat at one head of the table while the other end was empty, Francis pulled that empty chair and with a smirk, gestured for his wife to take her seat at the table before sitting down beside her. It was poetically fitting that the two queens sat facing each other on opposite ends. There was a loud clearing of a throat to grab everyone’s attention before Lord William spoke with his arms clasped behind his back.
“Now that we have all settled; let us begin.”
A document consisting of three pages were placed before them, an outline to England’s offers for a peace accord. Mary skimmed through the parchment with interest while she saw Narcisse and Catherine scan every detail.
“As you can see; England is prepared to immediately withdraw troops from Scotland’s borders. Furthermore, all Scottish and French prisoners of war will be released into your protected custody as a show of faith.”
The only other sound in the room was the scratching of quill on parchment as a scribe recorded every detail of the meeting.
Francis put down the document and regarded the English Queen with a calculating eye while her secretary read out the terms. With a wave of his hand, Lord Narcisse stood up to reply with his own country’s interests.
“France and Scotland are prepared to do the same; all prisoners will be released along with our armies retreating from the borders. The French army will return home, with only enough soldiers remaining to guard the royal family.”
William turned to his queen for approval before asking the Lord Chancellor if they had anything else to add before they continued.
“Scotland is of the opinion that England’s excursions on border towns have decimated many of the regions; as such, the King and Queen insist on England paying reparations to make up for the violence and bloodshed.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at her cousin and her husband, it was bold indeed to outright demand money.
“And what amount has the Queen of Scotland deemed fit to pay for the blood spilled?”
The Tudor Queen’s voice cut through the chamber like a sharp knife, edged and punctuated with a sneer.
“Five hundred thousand pounds.”
Elizabeth stood from her seat at Mary’s reply.
“That is outrageous!”
“Is it cousin? How much do you think a life is worth? How many has England taken from us?”
“Your price is too high Queen Mary. You will have your reparations but England will not pay more that one hundred thousand pounds.”
“Five hundred thousand.”
Mary repeated with the same stubbornness that she was famed for. Elizabeth shared an exasperated look with her advisors and while they were scowling at having to part with such an egregious amount, they gave her a subtle nod.
“We are prepared to raise the amount to two hundred thousand pounds.”
“Five hundred thousand.”
The Englishmen were frustrated at such an obstinate woman, hoping that her husband would find a way too reign her in. Francis however, was having the time of his life watching Mary stand her ground before men twice her age. Even Catherine had a grin on her face.
“Are you even trying to negotiate?”
Elizabeth demanded.
“Why shall I? The Tudors have taken too much from Scotland without provocation, out of ambition or greed or goodwill… it does not matter. It will take more that empty promises to get the peace that both of us desire Queen Elizabeth.”
“Very well then; I will agree on three hundred thousand pounds but not a penny more.”
Mary relaxed in her seat, her husband squeezing her hand under the table in support.
“It is a deal then.”
The new terms were added to a draft contract that was being written down by none other than Lord Dudley. After the changed were written down, Lord Nicolas passed to Queen Mary and King Francis another page. This one held another demand, one from Elizabeth to Mary.
“I understand that we have a difficult path to peace and no matter how many promises are made to disarm against one another; we will never have a true cease-fire as long as you hold a claim to my throne.”
“You want me to sign away my claim to England.”
Francis pointedly nodded to his mother, reminding her that a decision regarding the subject had already been made, warning her to hold her tongue and for once in her life, obey.
“It is your intent to become England’s Queen that made us rivals in the first place.”
Mary bit back her retort; there was no point in trying to explain her circumstances. The only reason she had declared her intention in such a manner was to bring the French nobility to her side, so that they would support Francis and they could be rid of his mad father.
“As long as you hold a blood claim to my throne, we can never have true amity.”
“What’s to stop England from going back on their word and invading the second I sign away my claim and we disarm?”
When you disarm your opponent shoots you.
Mary had been indignant when her uncle had offered up those words of wisdom but after experiencing her enemies thanking her kindness with betrayal, she realised that Christian de Guise was right.
“You don’t trust me? I am the one who made the first move towards peace.”
“You are trying to fix a peace that your father shattered in the first place. We may share blood but we are not family, you have given me no reason to trust you.”
“What my wife is trying to say is that we need an insurance, something substantial to show us that relinquishing the claim to England will not end badly for us. We are royalty and we do not have the luxury of placing blind trust upon anyone, I am sure you can understand.”
After a long time of silently observing the debate between his wife and her cousin, the King of France jumped in with his own two cents in an attempt to ease the rising tension in the room.
“I can understand cautiousness, you would be fools not to have reservations. Which is why in exchange for giving up your claim, I am prepared to offer you something much more valuable.”
“Do not do this Elizabeth.”
Lord William whispered as he stood beside his Queen but she disregarded his warnings with a shake of her head.
“As I am sure you have heard that in the time since my coronation, I have refused to take a husband. While my reasons are my own the result is this; I will never marry and never sire children. I need an heir and a male heir will be much more preferable.”
Mary and Francis exchanged confused looks; the rest of the room’s occupants were just as lost. Elizabeth had only shared her plan with Lord William and Lord Dudley, even the old men of her Privy Council were unaware because she was certain that they wouldn’t stand for such a decision.
“I must confess cousin; I do not follow…”
“You have three sons and I have none. What I am saying is that if you sign away your claim to my throne, I am prepared to make your son heir to England.”
“What?”
Mary’ gasp of bewilderment left her breathless as the entire chamber fell into chaos. This was something she had never anticipated, even in her wildest dreams Mary could never imagine that Elizabeth would offer the throne to her child. That she would ever hand over the Tudor dynasty to a Stuart or a Valois, for her sons were both.
“Enough!”
Francis’s voice boomed over the din and he turned to the English Queen.
“Is this a joke?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Not at all, your grace. I am very serious; agree to my terms and your second born son; the Duke of Rothsay shall become the Prince of Wales. Your son will one day be King Edward; first of his name of a united England and Scotland. My father’s dream of a united kingdom achieved without bloodshed.”
“Why would you do this? Hand over your family legacy? The Tudor dynasty will end with you if Edward becomes your heir.”
Mary’s voice was soft but it still reverberated throughout the chambers.
“I have every intention of living a long life, Queen Mary, when I die I want to be remembered as more that just the daughter of Henry Tudor. So, it doesn’t matter what House succeeds me, Tudor or Stuart.”
“Alright. I agree to your terms and will relinquish my claim to the English throne and instead; my son, Prince Edward Alexander of the royal houses of Stuart and Valois will be the successor to both our countries.”
Mary nodded towards her cousin, a small smile blooming on her lips.
“There is one more thing; if Prince Edward is to rule England he must have the support of the nobility. Which is why I suggest that his future Queen be of English blood.”
“My children’s marriages will be arranged by their parents, Queen Elizabeth.”
Francis cut in but his wife’s hand on his arm prevented him from saying anything else.
“Is there anything else you wish to add cousin?”
“Yes. The prince will have an investiture as the Prince of Wales when he is eight years old, after which he will be tutored in matters of state by a tutor chosen by myself.”
“We can discuss the details of it later then.”
And so, it was decided that the final peace accord will be drafted that very evening in the presence of the advisors to all three monarchs. That night, a state banquet will be held for the public signing of the treaty that will change the history of Europe forever. Both Queens were satisfied with the way the negotiations had gone. Elizabeth had the security of a stable reign while Mary finally had the chance to heal her country from the destruction of such a long war. The King and Queen of France and Scotland would leave England with more than they had expected, for even if they wouldn’t rule their son would be King of England and that was enough for them.
Of course there was still mistrust between the nations. This was why a condition was added to the peace accord that should either side break any of the terms it would be seen as a declaration of war. Their crown and their life would be forfeit, with the wronged party having every right to invade or retaliate in any way that they saw fit. While Mary held the hope that the peace would last for generations, Francis had no intention of risking his family’s future or their countries’ security on the promise of a fickle queen.