“It's not that simple,” He pleads to Mary, who refused to even spare him a glance, her eyes straying towards the balcony, stare empty and devoid of any warm emotion that he so desperately searched for but knew he didn't deserve. He fucked up. “I can't deny my own flesh and blood and doom him into a life without a father figure to guide him, and protect him and—”
“You're going to damn him with your so called protection and guidance, anyways. Don't you know that?” She states coldly. His scottish bride was a spitfire ever since they had met, albeit they have been wed for three months and spent two in their wedding tour— he thought they'd already built some sort of connection, but this surprise, of siring a bastard with one of his old flame, and one he thought he loved made their relationship sour. As if she was just flipping a switch while he was helpless and confused and bewildered, yet happy at the same time?
He never knew the news of a child, his child for that matter would bring him this much contradicting emotions. But then again, he has always thought himself to be safe and his sexual partners regularly seeing physicians to ingest those.. whatever pills, they might take to avoid pregnancy. Francis always thought it was his wife, the Scottish Princess, one that he was engaged to since they were six, who would bear his children. His eldest and heir was expected to be from her.
Not from Olivia— even though they've discussed running away and getting married in passing, he always knew he would get dragged kicking and screaming if he fails to cooperate with his Father's ambition in any way. Their flame was doused out by his mother's meddling, eitherway- and she was bound to get married to some nobleman, until she found out that she was carrying a child that she claimed, could only ever be his.
This discovery has put him at odds with his wife, who despite just arriving at court for their wedding, he admittedly feels a strong pull towards.
“I don't think i like your statements.” Francis frowns.
“I don't think i can bear this humiliation.” She says with even more hostility.
“This is not an act against you,” His posture straightens, steeling himself against whatever else she may say in a fit of anger. “I have committed my fair share of induldgences before i met you, and i can tell you right now— this was not my intention.”
“But claiming him is.” She gazes up at him, grievance crossing her soft brown eyes, that made his chest throb. The affect of her tears may have tore through the civility he tried to present himself with; he was always indignant when his father could easily be swayed by the charms of anyone with a skirt, yet here he was, ready to yield to a wife, though less than a stranger who was still, unfamiliar.
“I will give the child my name, but it does not mea— Mary,” He helplessly calls after her, feet padding to catch up to her after she abruptly stood and walked towards the double doors to their shared chambers. Francis tries to grab her wrists, but as if having eyes on her back, she swiftly turned around to face him.
“I have heard enough, your Majesty.” Her lips were pursed in a tight line, and she tried to smile, though beautiful, it appeared forced. “Do as you please, i no longer care what you do.”
“It is not what i want, but i am bound by responsibility.” He frowns, “Please, do not mistake my intentions as an act of selfishness nor greed— i do not wish to take another woman. I can barely keep you happy,” Francis states, quite frankly. Mary raised a remotely amused eyebrow. “I wish to retire to my chambers, i am very tired.” she inclines her head politely, and exited the room.
He was left to stand, basking in the silence, breathing out a heavy sigh. What in the world has he gotten into? He cannot simply pick one and choose another, a helpless infant and a wife who he was more than responsible for. He looked towarda the cieling, trying to gather as much willpower.
