11 | Revenge Is Bittersweet

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𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 House of Valois, as were the entirety of France. It had just been announced the unforeseen death of King Henry II. The Dauphin of France had been longing for many moons for the day that he finally succeeded the throne of his father. Though he did not expect how early he would be succeeding it.

The late King Henry II had died in a jousting accident, of all causes. Each and every one who witnessed the tragic scene still could not shake the shock and fear that creeped up their bodies as they watched the king being carried away into his rooms to be treated.

Now, one might wonder. Francis's grief was justified given that he just saw his own father wither away before his eyes. But why was Mary locked in their own chambers refusing to see anyone? Was she grieving as well? Was she unable to face everyone now that she's their queen? She never once bestowed the king of her nicest of approaches. She might address him respectfully, but only they themselves were able to pick up on the hidden condescending tone beneath Mary's polite words. More so after refusing to claim the throne of England nearly a year ago.

So why was Mary acting like she wanted to shut the entire world?

"Leave us be." Mary told Isabella when Francis entered their chambers. She was in the bed she shared with her husband, tucked under the heavy duvets.

After Mary had returned to share a room with her husband, they had been trying to conceive a baby. Which had been a difficult duty to achieve. She had seen different physicians, tried every herbal solution—but they remained childless. There was only so much Mary could take before her sanity would break.

"How are you feeling, my love?" asked Francis as he approached the bed, sitting on the edge and placing a hand on top of Mary's.

Mary could not look Francis in the eye. Her head was turned away from him as a single tear slipped from her eye and down toward the pillow. "I'll cope." she simply said.

She moved her head to have a glimpse of him, but she refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she settled her low-spirited brown eyes on his hand which was on top of hers. She made no effort to hold his, simply because she didn't have the strength to seek his comfort when he was grieving twice more than her.

"And the king?" she asked.

Mary dared to look up at her husband's face. And saw that the tough and brave dauphin was nowhere to be seen. There she found a young man, a son mourning the passing of his father. He looked lost, in desperate need of guidance, one that he sought from his father. He wasn't supposed to succeed the throne yet. It was too early.

"When I left his chambers, I was already the King of France." Francis said, his gaze faltering a little from his wife's eyes. "I am to inherit the crown...and I have been preparing for it all my life. But it doesn't seem to be enough. It's too early."

"You're saying this to your wife who became queen as early as six days old?" Mary said. "Look at me, I turned out fine—"

"You turned out magnificent and wise and kind. Do not ever undervalue yourself." Francis said as soon as he cut off Mary.

Mary tilted her head and smiled softly. It was a mixed one—sadness, encouragement, belief. But she finally looked deep into his eyes and brought a hand to his cheek to wipe away the single tear that trickled down his cheek with her thumb.

"And you will turn out to be a great king, I know it." Mary assured him, keeping the smile on her lips as true as it can be considering the circumstance. Francis tried to match her smile as he reached for her hand that was holding his face before pulling it away slightly, just enough to allow his lips to touch the back of her hand.

"But in all seriousness, how are you?" he asked again.

The smile on Mary's face faltered as her eyes blinked a couple of times. Her hand slid off her husband's face before she settled her eyes on her lap, watching her hands reunite and fiddle with each other.

"Let's just focus on your father first. And you." Mary said, avoiding the subject. She wanted to talk to him about it. She knew Francis wanted to as well. But he was mourning. Mary didn't want to add up to his pile of grievances. "I'll go see the court witch."

Francis furrowed his eyebrow at his wife in confusion. "Cordelia? Why?"

"Nothing important." Mary responded, forcing a smile on her face. "I'll make it haste."

Francis looked at her for a moment, genuinely concerned for her health—physically and emotionally—before he pushed his lips into a thin line and nodded, realizing that she really didn't want to talk about it.

The new King of France remained in their chambers as Mary simply covered herself with a white robe before finding her way to Cordelia's room. Despite Mary's similarities with Cordelia—or rather, similarity since the only thing they have in common was the fact that they're both witches—they don't spend as much time together. Mary and Isabella were practically the best of friends growing up after Mary accidentally siphoned from her, finding out that she was no ordinary girl. They were both witches. But Mary never really connected with Cordelia.

"Your Majesty." Cordelia's surprise was evident in the tone of her voice as she greeted the queen's entrance to her workspace. She immediately curtsied in front of Mary after getting over her bewilderment.

"I apologize for the late hour—" Mary cut herself off, not really sure if the hour was to be considered late or early given that it was just an hour past midnight. "—or early hour. I'm not quite sure which one would be more appropriate."

"No need for apologies, Your Majesty. I am here to serve you no matter the time." Cordelia politely responded, a small smile tugged on her face as a gesture of her respect toward her. Though that smile slightly wavered at something that crossed her mind. "Although, if this is the matter of the King's demise, once again, I sincerely have nothing more to do to better or bring him back. Nature will never allow it."

"Oh, no. I'm not here on behalf of King Henry. I'm actually here to ask you something." Mary said, her hands meeting once again to play with each other. "As I'm sure you're already aware, as the entire court undoubtedly is, Francis and I have been experiencing difficulties in conceiving a child. Now we've tried everything from medicinal herbs to...really uncomfortable pieces of advice from Queen Catherine, but nothing worked."

Mary straightened her posture before proceeding to her next sentence. "Then I realized there's one thing I haven't tried, and that is seeking your expertise."

The queen didn't fail to notice the smile Cordelia had turned into something that held a secret. Like she knew something and she was finding the entire thing amusing because of her knowledge about the fact.

"My expertise is your expertise, Your Majesty." Cordelia pointed out.

Mary furrowed her eyebrows and looked at Cordelia in absurdity, as if she was prepared to deny all assumptions that the woman had against her.

"I'm not sure I follow." Mary replied, plastering a confused look on her face while fighting the urge to call out the small hint of smugness that lingered in the air around the court witch.

"I may be young but I'm hardly naive." Cordelia cleared up. "The Queen's Crown may not have exposed you in the eyes of everyone else, but my eyes notice everything. Just like I noticed Your Majesty's strife with Lord Kol."

Mary slightly lifted her head up, asserting dominance over the person in front of her through intimidation as she stared her down with her jaw tightened. "It's been months. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Was I going to rout out the only possible ally I could have in this castle?" Cordelia indicated.

"You're loyal to the crown." Mary answered.

"My mother was loyal to the crown. So was her mother, and her mother's mother." Cordelia explained.

"But all the witches that burned in stakes after being exposed by your special teas—"

"Was I to anger the king and add to the pile of burnt bodies instead?"

Mary didn't say anything. She looked at the court witch with her hands clasping one another tight as her gaze remained stern and skeptical. She watched as Cordelia closed her eyes and sighed.

"I'm the court witch. I have neither friends nor allies in this place because they fear what I am capable of." Cordelia reasoned out. "I was supposed to be kind and a protector of my own blood—even have the name for it. A family name that was relevant and respected but one I am not allowed to possess, what with my grandmother's grudge that didn't necessarily have to stretch over generations."

The queen watched as Cordelia expressed her distress to her family history. And if there's something she could count on, it was her knowledge about the covens near her home.

"Cordelia Bennett." Mary uttered out, earning Cordelia's sudden antsy expression. "You're a Bennett witch."

"I no longer identify as one. I'm just Cordelia." She said.

"To me you're Cordelia Bennett and even before I knew that, I respected you." Mary lifted her head slightly. "And having you as an ally would be beneficial."

Cordelia arched an eyebrow at Mary's statement. "A queen for an ally? I will gladly accept, Your Majesty."

"Please, my friends can call me Mary." She smiled. Mary had no idea how that affected Cordelia so much. A friend, finally. And it was the Queen, one who was known to value friendships as if it were her extended family. "As our first order of this alliance, can you help me?"

Cordelia's grateful expression faltered when she remembered Mary's business. "I'm afraid I cannot help you."

Mary's forehead creased at her new friend and ally's answer.

"Why not?" She asked.

The court witch looked down on her fiddling fingers, not knowing how to break the news to the queen. "I sensed it a few months ago."

"Sensed what?" Mary was getting even more agitated by every second that passed with Cordelia withholding the information about her health.

"That you were cursed." Cordelia finally responded after silent seconds were spent between them. "Cursed to infertility."

Mary took a step back, appalled by what she just heard. Cursed to infertility? Who would do such a thing? Of all the things that they could go after, they went after her ability to conceive a child?

"King Henry just died. I will be crowned Queen Consort of France but no one will celebrate a queen who cannot bear an heir!" Mary panicked. Queens who couldn't produce a male heir were usually set aside by their husbands the Kings to take new women that would fill their spot and do their duty. If Mary could not produce an heir let alone a male one, then what of her title as Queen of France? What of her alliance with this country?

"I'm so sorry, Mary. But the only thing that can reverse it is the death of the witch who cast it." Cordelia answered.

Mary's teary eyes stared straight into Cordelia's as her expression changed from panicking to furious.

"And who would that be?" She questioned.

• ─────────────── •

It was a mistake to let Queen Mary of Scots run rampant down the castle halls in the middle of the night with a knife dagger firm in her right hand. She wasn't in her right mind, but then again, would anyone be if they had found out that someone had cursed them, preventing them from building a family?

Her intense glare at the door of Kol's room increased as she was nearing it. She didn't waste any time—not even a second—when she finally reached the door and pushed it open. Her eyes immediately darted to the vampire standing in the middle of the room as if he was waiting for her.

Mary, with her tracks still not stopping from the moment she left Cordelia's presence to when she joined Kol's, reached for his neck with her left hand and the spot glowed bright orange. Just like the first time they met, Kol was forced down to his knees at the contact of her siphoning hands to his skin, his body going numb from all the magic that was leaving his body.

She lifted the dagger and pressed it against his cheek, applying enough pressure that be on the brink of cutting.

"What have I done to you to make you hate me this much?" She said. Kol had a perfect view of Mary's glistening, raving mad eyes. It was a sight Kol had both the pleasure and the misfortune to receive. To be able to get under the queen's skin this much was rewarding. Though the next few moments weren't as much when Mary finds a way to get back at him. "It's not because I humiliated you the first time we met, because I know that even someone like you who is all ego and no respect will not go to such lengths to see me suffer because you were bested by a girl."

Kol didn't answer. Instead, he tried to match the furious glare that the young queen had as she continued to speak.

"You used Isabella to cast that spell because you knew I wouldn't have her head to nullify the curse." Mary said, a tear slipping from her eye, and another, then another. One tear drop even fell on Kol's cheek.

"It took you long enough to figure it out." Kol managed to croak out.

Another tear escaped her eye and she clenched her jaw as her breathing shook before readjusting her grip on the knife and stabbed him in the heart. Her hand was trembling but she kept her grasp on the knife as she watched the pain become evident in the vampire's eyes.

She pulled the knife back and stepped away, letting the original vampire fall to the ground, temporarily dead. Mary stared at the vampire on the floor while she held the knife in her hand, thick, crimson blood dripping from the blade. Her eyes finally stopped from letting the tears stain her face.

"He could've broken free." Mary was not surprised when she heard Elijah's voice behind her. It was only a matter of time before they found her attacking their brother. "He knew you were coming yet he waited for you because he now knows how to handle you. You can't take him by surprise like the first time."

Mary didn't spare the gentleman a glance, her gaze fixed on an unconscious Kol. "Then why didn't he break free?"

"Something held him back. If something held him back, doesn't that mean he's not all evil?" Elijah pointed out.

"I doubt that." A small bitter smile tugged on Mary's lips before she finally turned around and met Elijah's eyes. "At this point, I'm certain there's no line he wouldn't cross."

"And you? Is there no line you wouldn't cross?" He questioned.

Mary kept the blade in her hand as she neared the older original vampire.

"If only I am forced to defend myself. But every minute that you remain in court assures me that I will always be." She answered.

Her eyes were staring down Elijah as she always did until she got a glimpse of someone familiar from behind him. Her gaze shifted and there she saw a guilty Lady Isabella outside of the room, in the hall.

Unlike earlier, Mary's face was apathetic. It was like her face was now all drained of emotions. And she remained that way as she walked past Elijah to approach the young woman.

Lady Isabella dreaded every step that her friend and queen took as she approached her. Tears were threatening to fall down her cheeks. Her heart was desperate to jump out of her chest. Her feet were refusing to plant firmly on the ground just in case she needed to run.

"Mary," Isabella began when she finally reached her. "I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry. It was supposed to be harmless—"

Her words were cut off by a gasp when Mary's palm met Isabella's cheek harshly. The slap was so hard, it echoed in the hall. Maybe too hard because Isabella's left was now lined with a small, bleeding cut. Her skin literally split open at how ruthless her slap was.

"Was that harmless?" Mary said with gritted teeth. She didn't want to be angry with Isabella. She was manipulated by Kol. But Mary already warned her about him and yet she still chose to spend time with him. And it cost her her future family.

To her, both of them were at fault.

Lady Isabella turned her head to look at Mary again, her eyes wide in shock and glistening from tears. She winced slightly at the contact of her salt tears with the cut on her cheek.

"I told you to find better company than him. You didn't listen." She said. Her face was still void of emotion as she said those words. And Lady Isabella didn't know what was worse, to see her broken and crying, or not feel anything at all.

That was the thought running inside her head as she let Mary walk away, no longer a friend to one another, now only a Queen and her subject.

"Hic sum."

• ─────────────── •

My college had a party last Friday night and I was one of the student leaders that organized it, which was why I was basically a walking corpse by the time everything ended...I also felt like one. I have no idea how Caroline does it. I swear, high heels and corsets were made to torture people. I had to wear them while marching around the venue with my fellow leaders to make sure everything was going well *cries in zombie*.