Tampered Beauty

Obstruction

Horses silenced. Grey clouds overlooked the gloom infested French Court. In the courtyard, nobody spoke a word, simply walked to different carriages to place full trunks on their backs. The ambience borderlined on eerie, nobody knowing quite what to say or how to say it.  

The deed was done. The marriage between Mary and Henry Stuart had been annulled thee days previously. The former Emperor Consort's things had been packed up and safe passage had been booked to Wales, where Henry Stuart would live out the rest of his days in a small, comfortable manor house with a steady and generous income from the crown.

In his castle, the King of France stood by a criss-crossed window, observing the sombre thirty people of Henry's household. They wore blacks and dark greys, almost appearing to be in mourning. Which, in a way, they were.

After a large pay off to the Pope, it had been determined that the Empress and former Emperor wouldn't face execution for their adultery and bigamy, but neither could have any correspondence with each other, and the Stuart blooded male would live the rest of his life in exile. In addition, Henry couldn't plot to regain his throne and murder the King of France, or else he would be executed. He would be granted the title of Duke of Lancaster, but would forfeit his place on the English privy council and his original Duchy of the Duke of Edinburgh, the one he attained through his marriage to Mary. 

He exhaled slowly through his nose when he saw Mary leading out her subject. He was on her arm. She was donned in a heavily beaded cream floor length, figure hugging gown with a high neck, covered up by a thick, dark and light grey fur cape. Long hair was up in a high, intricate ponytail, a tiara shimmering in the deep light. Her companion was donned in a dark grey riding ensemble, face low.

He saw her let go of his arm, the former Emperor Consort turning to her after a few moments. Francis grunted, observing the way Henry placed a hand on his wife's cheek, pressing his lips to the other one. His eyes narrowed into small slits, watching Henry bow low to his Empress, before slowly getting in one of the larger carriages. 

And, moments later, he rode away.

"I cannot believe this." Henry grumbled, walking slowly to his carriages.

"I know, it would be a lot simpler should it be different." Mary said quietly, leading him over to the end of the stone walkways, the one she walked with Francis once returning to French court all those years ago.

"So, this is goodbye? You and I will never see each other again." Henry frowned, turning to Mary. She smiled sympathetically, nodding slowly.

"No. We will not." she sighed. "You've been a good and faithful friend to me, Henry. I just wish things could be different." she looked down.

Henry placed a hand to her cheek, turning her face up to meet his. He leaned in close, kissing his former wife's cheek one last time, before pulling back. Mary watched him take two steps back, bowing low.

"My Empress." he said, bowing. He stood straight again.

"I hope you live a long and happy life, Henry." Mary lowered her eyes, staring at his forced, half smile, before glancing up at his eyes.

"Long may you reign, your Imperial Majesty." he said, turning from her and walking into his carriage, settling down onto the seat and hearing the door close and lock to his left.

He gulped down his disappointment and hurt until he was away from Mary's gaze, and then, ever so slowly, let the tears fall.

Mary sighed as all the carriages pulled away, one by one, before walking slowly back into the palace, not once looking back.

"Well, how are you going to fix that?" Catherine asked suddenly. Francis slowly turned to her, not speaking. "This marriage. How are you going to fix it?" she asked.