01 | Her Majesty, The Queen

1558

     𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 ever-so bright. Well, why wouldn't it be? The Dauphin of France and the Queen of Scotland finally married after waiting for years. Mary Stuart has been betrothed to Francis de Valois II since she was six. They've experienced a lot together in the times that Mary was given a chance to take a break from her education and play with the dauphin.

The music streamed through the blood of the guests, their feet dragging them to the center of the dance floor and joining the others–drunk on the effervescent aura of the night. Two souls united. Two people in love. Two royals strengthened. Two nations allied.

It was a great day for France and Scotland.

"Queen Catherine seems to be quite enjoying herself." Mary stated as she danced gracefully with her husband, her sarcasm dripping from her words.

The young dauphin—now King Consort of Scotland—sneakily takes a glimpse of his mother standing and blending in with the crowd. The only thing that made her standout among them was the crown that sits atop her braided, thick blonde hair. He almost laughed at the frown on Catherine's face.

It was expected that the Queen of France would glower upon seeing his son marry the Queen of Scotland. Ever since she was a little kid, the woman despised her. Mary was a Queen. Therefore, she was favored and more taken care of than Catherine's daughters. To the Queen of France, it's as if the harmless little girl was flaunting her privileges on her daughters' faces.

On top of that, Mary wore a white dress to her wedding, which in France symbolized mourning. She made quite the scandal, the Queen of Scots. Catherine was not pleased.

"There's not a single trace of bliss in my mother's glare for us. But then again, is there ever?" Francis replied with an amused smile on his face. He loved his mother. He just gets tired of her sometimes because of her constant complaining about his betrothed–now wife. "At least my father looks positively cheerful."

Mary glanced at King Henry II. The mere eye contact between the two caused the king to raise a glass towards her, a slight, favored nod following it.

"Why wouldn't he be? He thinks he'll be having the Queen of Scotland and England at his beck and call." Mary whispered, averting her gaze from the king. Ever since the news of Queen Mary I's illness took over Europe, Henry had been pressuring Mary to claim the English throne, as she, his words said, was the rightful heir to the throne and not the bastard protestant Elizabeth.

"You are the rightful heir to the English throne, are you not?" Francis asked, pulling away from the young queen to gently twirl her around, continuing the dance as they had practiced days and days before the wedding came. "You're also Catholic."

"Perhaps." Mary took another turn–her long, scarlet locks swaying behind her before landing once again in her husband's arms. "But Elizabeth is my cousin. I do not wish to offend her."

They pulled away from each other, leaving only the hold of their hands before they bowed to one another, the end of the dance finally reached. "Besides, I'm already Queen of Scotland and future Queen Consort of France. I have all the resources I need to defend both my nations from England if I don't claim their throne."

"I'm just saying, it's better to be Queen of England than to be forever its enemy." he stated, his point resonating with Mary.

He did have a valid point. England had always been after the Scottish throne. It's why Mary was betrothed to Francis in the first place. An alliance with France would protect Scotland from English Invasion. If Mary became Queen of England, then she didn't have to constantly worry about the country planning an attack on Scotland.

"I apologize," Francis said when he noticed how deep Mary was thinking. She snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of his voice, causing her to glance at the young blonde with confused blue eyes. "I did not wish for you to be burdened with politics tonight of all nights."

"If you think about it, tonight of all nights is the most political." Mary said.

The two were headed to converse with the guests of their wedding celebration when a man approached them.

"Your Majesties," said one of the many guards that surrounded the ballroom's inside and out as he bowed before them. "Newly arrived guests request an audience of Her Majesty, the Queen of Scots."

Mary could not help the furrow of her eyebrows at such a request, neither could the dauphin.

"The Queen? On her wedding night? Who are they to make such a request?" Francis questioned, his wrinkled forehead matching that of Mary's. If she wasn't bothered herself, she would've made a comment about how adorable the 15-year-old dauphin was at the moment while he's upset.

"I apologize, Your Majesty. But the guests insisted they be introduced to Her Majesty themselves." the guard said. He looked around him briefly to check if anyone was nearby and was listening before slightly leaning in to whisper. "They claim to have valuable information about England's succession."

Mary and Francis exchanged glances. It seemed too good to be true, and at the same time too suspicious.

"This is absurd–" Francis began to rant when Mary took it upon herself to calm the dauphin's temper down and resolve this herself, as those mysterious guests probably preferred.

"I'll handle this, husband." Mary stepped up. She took a glance at Catherine to see her approaching them rather quickly. "For the meantime, entertain your mother. I don't want her watching my every move. She's already suffocating enough."

"Mary, what if it's dangerous?" He warned, gently taking Mary's arm into his hand.

"I have my guards with me. I'll be fine." She looked at the Queen of France again and quickly gathered the front of her dress to make an escape. "But soon, I won't be if I'm still here when your mother comes."

It was a lucky escape. Catherine barely got Mary when she reached Francis. Mary could already hear the curses running in her mother-in-law's mind. The young Queen shuddered at the thought, Catherine being her mother-in-law would probably be one of the most unpleasant things for her to experience.

Mary sent sweet smiles and polite nods to those she walked past as she and the guard that informed them made their way to exit the room. She made it seem as though she wasn't in a hurry to not inflict worry upon anyone—not that she was in a hurry for the sake of the unknown and possibly dangerous people waiting for her, but her ever-so-curious mind could never resist a mystery much longer. She needed to crack it.

The further she got away from the celebration of her marriage to Francis, the louder the echo of her shoes got as well as the clanking of her guards' armors. She made sure that before she met whoever was requesting her presence, she was armed and protected by them.

Once she was near the entrance doors of the castle, she could eye the group of elegantly dressed people standing in front. Three gentlemen, one lady.

The guards came to a simultaneous halt at the entrance when Mary was finally faced with the nameless people. She scanned those before her; the tallest one, with a lean build yet slightly muscular, had striking blue eyes and dirty blonde locks that sat neatly and silky on top of his head; the gentleman next to him had hair parted in the middle, brown as was his own eyes, though a bit more hazel, his posture was best among all of them—his back straight, his chin up, his feet planted firm and steady to the ground, he was confident; the lady next to him was like a female version of the first one, with her long hair blonde and her mesmerizing eyes blue, the Queen of Scots wondered if they were twins or just siblings; the last one, well, he seemed bored, honestly. He had dark brown hair that does not have a strand out of place, his eyes are just as brown, and his aura, to be quite frank, was utterly unpredictable. And not in a clueless kind of way, but in a way that will make you think that he was despicable and would always keep you on your toes, Mary knew she was at that moment.

"Your Majesty, it is a wonderful honor to be blessed by your presence." Said the gentleman between the two most similar looking siblings. The four of them bowed in respect, acknowledging the royal presence of the Queen which they had requested during the night of her wedding celebration. Quite unnerving, if you ask her.

"We are terribly sorry for this...inconvenience." The same man added.

"I should say I'm quite relieved you actually acknowledge how inconvenient your timing is, Sir...?" Mary waited for the man to answer.

"Lord Elijah Mikaelson, Your Majesty." The gentleman—Elijah Mikaelson—answered. "These are my siblings, Lord Niklaus, Lady Rebekah, and Lord Kol."

Niklaus, the blue-eyed gentleman with blonde hair. Rebekah, his carbon copy. And Kol, the despicable one. Quite easy enough for Mary to remember.

The Queen arched an eyebrow at the introduction, as if intrigued. "I wish I could say it's a pleasure to meet you, my lords and lady, but you did take me away from my husband during our own wedding celebration."

"Once again, our apologies, My Queen." Niklaus took the lead for his siblings. "We are in some kind of trouble. We require your assistance to find someone. It's rather important."

"You're in no place to make demands, Lord Niklaus, neither of you are." Mary said, her tone implying the absurdity of it all.

"In exchange for your generous consideration, we shall provide you with privy information about England, among other things you wish. Think of it as an alliance. Having our house as an ally will be beneficial, I guarantee." Rebekah explained.

Mary narrowed her brown eyes at the blonde lady before scanning her eyes over the others, her mind in deep thinking. "Who is the person you wish to be found?"

"Katerina Petrova." Elijah answered.

A wise tactic they had come up with. If Katerina was hiding in either France or Scotland, what faster way to find her than the Queen of Scotland and future Queen of France herself scouring their lands.

The fiery-haired Queen of Scotland thought for another moment before settling her sweet yet sarcastic gaze upon the four. "I must respectfully deny."

The polite smiles that lingered in the faces of Niklaus, Rebekah, and Elijah disappeared at Mary's refusal. Elijah lowered his eyes to the ground, processing the redhead's decision. With his head still hanging down, he slightly turned to his brother Niklaus, who wore the same expression. Disappointed.

"Can we try my idea now?" Said Kol. The man didn't bother to wait for his siblings. He made his way towards the Queen, as close as he could get considering the guards were keeping her out of reach very well.

"Might I remind you, that is the Queen, brother. Don't be impulsive." Elijah warned, but remained calm, as he always was.

"I pay no mind to titles." Kol looked towards his siblings. "I'm getting bored."

The gentleman fixated his dark brown eyes upon the deep brown doe eyes of the young Queen before he spoke.

"You're gonna invite us in and help find Katerina," Kol told Mary using compulsion. "Your Majesty."

Mary stood still, taking in the words of the brunette. Her head raised a little, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling through her mouth. She raised a hand and the guards in front of her parted, allowing a path to form before her. Mary lifted the front of her dress and approached Kol, whose eyes still held trouble and mischief. He seemed proud of getting the chance to compel a monarch.

The Queen stood before him, her hair dark cherry colored, her eyes as deep as the ocean, her complexion not a flaw in sight. Kol was quite sure that she was infatuated with him. He wouldn't blame her, he really was charming.

Then Mary smiled.

"Here I thought you were the despicable one." She said before placing a hand on Kol's jaw. Her hand as well as his skin glowed a bright orange that caused the gentleman to gasp as he slowly knelt to the ground, his face turning gray and veiny, on the verge of completely desiccating.

Niklaus and Rebekah moved to come after the Queen when Elijah stretched out his arms, holding them back. He watched intently at Mary, fascinated by the turn of events.

"Do not provoke me again, vampire." Mary warned before letting go of the man and letting him fall to the ground and recover. He swore his insides were on fire, dry and blazing.

"I will help you." Mary said as she turned towards the rest of the siblings. "I simply had to test what will happen if our interests don't align with each other."

Kol took Rebekah's hand when she offered it to help him get back on his feet. To say that Kol felt enraged and humiliated was an understatement. But he should have had it coming.

"I invite you in. I'll have the servants prepare your quarters and the guards escort you to them. I only have one rule to ask of you." Mary said, her hands intertwined as it rested on top of the skirt of her white wedding dress. "Do try not to get on my bad side."

Niklaus was not going to lie, he was enthralled by the Queen's power. He could not help the smirk that formed on his lips. He was captivated, but not in love. Intrigued, but not obsessed. Elijah, on the other hand, as much as he respected her, was quite undecided about what he should feel about the Queen actually being a witch of some sort. She carried more power than they could have ever imagined. Rebekah, well, she was annoyed. Her feelings might be regarded as childish but she was in no mood to be bossed around. Kol can be described with one word.

Murderous.

"Welcome to French Court." Mary welcomed them before turning around and picking the front of her dress up before making her way inside the castle, leaving the Mikaelsons to watch her walk away from them with each of them having different feelings about the matter they just got themselves mixed up in.

• ─────────────── •

And that's the beginning of Part One: The Foxes' Tale. Take note that Mary, along with her close relatives, were still Catholics despite people's belief back then that witches were Pagan. Paganism and witchcraft do not have any clear correlation in TVDU (at least from what I can remember).

Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter!