Tampered Beauty

Ailment

Moments pass by like years, the only sound audible was the rapid heartbeat of the King of France. Frantic physicians and servants' voices were somehow underwater as he stood back and watched them work. Her head was jerked sideways, some feeling her neck, others placing their hands on her forehead. 

Her face, the beautiful portrait of the Queen of France was pale like he'd never seen before. Why had he not seen the sheen of sweat on her brow? The weakness in her bones, the sudden constant need to sit down? Was is dizziness, fatigue, lightheadedness? Was she to leave him and their son so soon after accepting him?

"You," a man addressed them all. Their voices suddenly sounded clear. "Quickly, place the Empress on the bed. I need cold, fresh water and cotton. Send for Lady Greer and Lady Kenna, have them undress her." he paused. "Quickly! Now!" the man said.

The man stood, assisting the quartet of men lifting her limp body up and placing her on the brocaded satin bed. Francis took a moment to observe the leaded of this frantic pack. A little younger than middle aged, short brown hair, thick sideburns and a thick, short beard. Light skin and blue eyes and blue robes. This man was Mary's preferred physician, sir Ayson. 

Quickly coming in close when the physicians backed off a little, Francis grabbed her hand, clearly distressed to feel the burning, soft skin in his hand.

"What is wrong with her, sir Ayson?" Francis begged, swiping an errant few locks from her pale, clammy forehead. Dark circles that had been hidden with makeup now stood out, accentuating themselves more than ever on her colourless face.

"I don't know, King Francis. My Empress is undoubtedly unwell." he replied, grabbing a vial of dark liquid from his robes and pouring it into her mouth, gently holding her chin until the liquid had disappeared down her throat.

"What is that?" Francis worried, noticing how she hadn't responded physically to the liquid. 

"A tonic to soothe any pain she may be having." he answered.

Leaning in close, Francis brushed a hand over her cheek, letting his palm slide across her jaw and neck, finding his way to her bare shoulder.

"Please, wake up. Darling, wake up. I love you, I need you. James needs you." he whispered, sitting at her side, chewing on his lip as, yet again, Mary failed to respond.

"Sir Ayson, why have we-" Kenna said, her and her fair haired counterpart, her voice trailing as soon as she set eyes on the unconscious Empress. "Mary!" she gasped, gripping Greer's hand and running the impressive distance from door to large, four poster bed.

"What is wrong with her?" Greer asked, eyes wide.

"I don't know, ladies. Undress her, place her in her nightgown. Send for me when you're finished." the physician ordered, everybody leaving the room apart from the ladies and Francis.

Nervously, he stepped back, out of their way. Wrapping an arm around his waist, the other's hand finding his mouth, he watched as they carefully stripped her from the long sleeve, bardot cut, cream chiffon gown and into a light, white nightgown with tiny straps at the shoulders. Her hair was let down from it's waterfall braid, crown and jewellery being removed and being placed over to the jewellery boxes.

"Finished, Francis." Kenna told him, watching as Greer scurried out to alert the bombardment of men outside, before taking her place next to Kenna, who, in turn, stood near Francis.

The men worked for a few, tumultuous minutes, before one of the medical proficient men looked over at them. His face was pale, eyes wider than usual, cheeks almost as flushed as the crimson jacket he wore.

"She is with fever, your Majesty. It is not bad, but we must act quickly so it cannot worsen. We are not sure it is an infection, as nowhere on her body is significantly more afflicted than others." servents came back in with bows of cold water and ripped cotton.