As long as he does, and it doesn't wreck him permanently, I am OK with that.
A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
Section CXI: September 1533
I feel like we need a break from all the grief, so have some other tumultuous emotions instead...
Alexander is just making his way to Mary’s rooms to share the newest developments from Holyrood and Paris with her when Nora, clearly about some errand or other, rounds the corner towards him.
He stops to let her past, and she dips a curtsy in thanks, “Lord Ross.”
“Sawney,” he corrects, as he always has to, lifting her to her feet, “I wish you’d remember that I’ve given you permission to use my nickname, Nora.”
“I can’t. You know why I can’t,” the blonde whispers, and there is such anguish in her voice that Alexander shies away from it like a skittish horse. He hates knowing that the girl he loves is in so much pain, when there is absolutely nothing he can do to ease it.
“You don’t have to stay,” he offers quietly, suddenly desperate to free them both from their endless, silent torment, “Even if you don’t want to marry, I’m sure I can find an excuse to send you back to England. Your brother would love having you closer.”
Nora shakes her head, “I can’t leave Mary. Not when Susan and I are the only two members of her childhood household left to her. She’d be heartbroken. Besides…”
She trails off and the words, “I couldn’t bear to leave you,” hang unspoken in the air between them. Alexander closes his eyes against them, and then proffers his brother’s letter, holding it out for the younger woman to take, a flimsy parchment shield against the silent attraction that constantly courses between them.
“Cousin Louise is set to sail in April as planned, despite her father’s death. Jamie has just had the arrangements confirmed by Cousin François. He wants us all to be at Court to greet her.”
Nora takes the letter and skims it, pushing an errant blonde curl out of her eyes impatiently.
Alexander half reaches out to hold it back for her, so drawn to her that he is suddenly heedless of who might witness the incredible intimacy.
Fortunately, Nora straightens before he can give in to the impulse.
“Mary may not be able to go,” she states flatly, “Depending on when the child comes, she may still be in her chamber by then.”
The words bring Alexander up short, even as Nora’s hand flies to her mouth, “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said that! Mary wanted to tell you herself. That’s what I was doing, coming to find you so that she could tell you!”
For once, Alexander pays no heed to Nora’s horror. He simply stutters, “The-The child?”
Brought back to herself by his stunned exclamation, Nora gives him a beautiful sad smile.
“Indeed,” she murmurs gently, “You two have done your duty at last. You’re to be a father, Sawney. Congratulations.”
Alexander would die rather than admit it, but his first emotion upon hearing the news, other than stunned shock, is relief. Relief that people will finally stop whispering about the fact that Mary’s belly is still flat and taut, even three years after their marriage. Relief that the Ross line will continue. But above all, relief that, once Mary’s condition becomes public knowledge, no one will think twice if he spends time with Nora. After all, it’s perfectly acceptable for a man of his station to take a mistress while his wife is enceinte and unable to perform her marital duties.
A second later, he is sickened by shame at the turn his thoughts have taken. Mary doesn’t deserve to be cuckolded, especially not by the very woman she considers a sister. Nor does his darling Nora deserve to be reduced to being his harlot, only called upon when his lawful wife is unavailable to him.
Nora, bless her, reads the emotions warring on his face. She really does know him far too well.
“You should go to Mary,” she prods softly, “And don’t tell her I let it slip. She’s dying to tell you herself, and let’s not spoil this for her, not if we can at all help it.”
“Not this too,” They both hear the words she doesn’t say.
Alexander nods, but he doesn’t move. He can’t. The air between them is so charged, it holds him trapped in its thrall.
Eventually, as she often does, Nora makes it easy for him, stepping to one side.
“Go on,” she urges again, and this time, Alexander forces his feet to obey.
He can’t stop himself from catching Nora by the wrist as he draws level with her, though.
“I wish it were you, Nora,” he breathes, his grey-blue eyes blazing with smothered desire, “God’s Blood, I wish it were you swelling with my child!”
Nora freezes. She says nothing, only looks at her feet. When she finally does raise her eyes to Alexander, the sapphire orbs are flooded with heartbreak.
“I know you do,” she whispers hoarsely, “I want it too. Believe me, if I could, I’d give you a child in a heartbeat. But Mary’s your wife, not me. She’s my sister in all but name. Don’t ask me to betray her like that. Please. Just don’t.”
Her voice quavers on the last word, and, just like that, Alexander is undone.
Fast as a snake, not even fully aware of what he’s doing, he pulls Nora to him, hard and desperate.
Their lips crash together, and for a moment, the world around them simply melts away. All that matters is the spark between them, the spark that has suddenly bloomed into a whole kaleidoscope of heat and passion and burning, aching, want.
They battle for dominance in the kiss, a fight they only agree to end in a ceasefire when neither of them can hold their breath any longer.
Pulling apart, they stare at each other in horror before, not even giving Alexander time to form more than a semi-coherent thought, Nora turns and flees, her breath catching on a strangled sob.
The same thought blares like a hunting horn through both their minds.
What the Hell have we just done!
Dingwall, September 1533
Alexander is just making his way to Mary’s rooms to share the newest developments from Holyrood and Paris with her when Nora, clearly about some errand or other, rounds the corner towards him.
He stops to let her past, and she dips a curtsy in thanks, “Lord Ross.”
“Sawney,” he corrects, as he always has to, lifting her to her feet, “I wish you’d remember that I’ve given you permission to use my nickname, Nora.”
“I can’t. You know why I can’t,” the blonde whispers, and there is such anguish in her voice that Alexander shies away from it like a skittish horse. He hates knowing that the girl he loves is in so much pain, when there is absolutely nothing he can do to ease it.
“You don’t have to stay,” he offers quietly, suddenly desperate to free them both from their endless, silent torment, “Even if you don’t want to marry, I’m sure I can find an excuse to send you back to England. Your brother would love having you closer.”
Nora shakes her head, “I can’t leave Mary. Not when Susan and I are the only two members of her childhood household left to her. She’d be heartbroken. Besides…”
She trails off and the words, “I couldn’t bear to leave you,” hang unspoken in the air between them. Alexander closes his eyes against them, and then proffers his brother’s letter, holding it out for the younger woman to take, a flimsy parchment shield against the silent attraction that constantly courses between them.
“Cousin Louise is set to sail in April as planned, despite her father’s death. Jamie has just had the arrangements confirmed by Cousin François. He wants us all to be at Court to greet her.”
Nora takes the letter and skims it, pushing an errant blonde curl out of her eyes impatiently.
Alexander half reaches out to hold it back for her, so drawn to her that he is suddenly heedless of who might witness the incredible intimacy.
Fortunately, Nora straightens before he can give in to the impulse.
“Mary may not be able to go,” she states flatly, “Depending on when the child comes, she may still be in her chamber by then.”
The words bring Alexander up short, even as Nora’s hand flies to her mouth, “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said that! Mary wanted to tell you herself. That’s what I was doing, coming to find you so that she could tell you!”
For once, Alexander pays no heed to Nora’s horror. He simply stutters, “The-The child?”
Brought back to herself by his stunned exclamation, Nora gives him a beautiful sad smile.
“Indeed,” she murmurs gently, “You two have done your duty at last. You’re to be a father, Sawney. Congratulations.”
Alexander would die rather than admit it, but his first emotion upon hearing the news, other than stunned shock, is relief. Relief that people will finally stop whispering about the fact that Mary’s belly is still flat and taut, even three years after their marriage. Relief that the Ross line will continue. But above all, relief that, once Mary’s condition becomes public knowledge, no one will think twice if he spends time with Nora. After all, it’s perfectly acceptable for a man of his station to take a mistress while his wife is enceinte and unable to perform her marital duties.
A second later, he is sickened by shame at the turn his thoughts have taken. Mary doesn’t deserve to be cuckolded, especially not by the very woman she considers a sister. Nor does his darling Nora deserve to be reduced to being his harlot, only called upon when his lawful wife is unavailable to him.
Nora, bless her, reads the emotions warring on his face. She really does know him far too well.
“You should go to Mary,” she prods softly, “And don’t tell her I let it slip. She’s dying to tell you herself, and let’s not spoil this for her, not if we can at all help it.”
“Not this too,” They both hear the words she doesn’t say.
Alexander nods, but he doesn’t move. He can’t. The air between them is so charged, it holds him trapped in its thrall.
Eventually, as she often does, Nora makes it easy for him, stepping to one side.
“Go on,” she urges again, and this time, Alexander forces his feet to obey.
He can’t stop himself from catching Nora by the wrist as he draws level with her, though.
“I wish it were you, Nora,” he breathes, his grey-blue eyes blazing with smothered desire, “God’s Blood, I wish it were you swelling with my child!”
Nora freezes. She says nothing, only looks at her feet. When she finally does raise her eyes to Alexander, the sapphire orbs are flooded with heartbreak.
“I know you do,” she whispers hoarsely, “I want it too. Believe me, if I could, I’d give you a child in a heartbeat. But Mary’s your wife, not me. She’s my sister in all but name. Don’t ask me to betray her like that. Please. Just don’t.”
Her voice quavers on the last word, and, just like that, Alexander is undone.
Fast as a snake, not even fully aware of what he’s doing, he pulls Nora to him, hard and desperate.
Their lips crash together, and for a moment, the world around them simply melts away. All that matters is the spark between them, the spark that has suddenly bloomed into a whole kaleidoscope of heat and passion and burning, aching, want.
They battle for dominance in the kiss, a fight they only agree to end in a ceasefire when neither of them can hold their breath any longer.
Pulling apart, they stare at each other in horror before, not even giving Alexander time to form more than a semi-coherent thought, Nora turns and flees, her breath catching on a strangled sob.
The same thought blares like a hunting horn through both their minds.
What the Hell have we just done!
My oh my, the love triangle now begins in earnest. Poor Mary, I suspect that if she's anything like her parents she'll be heartbroken when the affair offically begins...
Certainly if she's anything like her mother, yes. But Nora adores her too, so she won't want to throw things in her face if she can help it...
Not just Mary, what the hell is Henry going to do?
His blood is up from winning one war - sod it, let's make the hat-trick on killing in-laws.
His blood is up from winning one war - sod it, let's make the hat-trick on killing in-laws.
I hadn't even thought about that. Alexander is going to have to be *very* careful, isn't he?
I support this. Henry should get his bloodthirsty moments once in a while, especially when the cause is actually justified in this case. Let's go for it
Although don't forget, Mary's pregnant. Henry would be the first to say that Alexander was well within his rights to take a mistress while his wife is "unavailable" so to speak.
Rules for me, not for thee, and especially not when its my heir (for now).
This is also true, I suppose. Mind you, forget Henry. I have to work out Papa Boleyn's reaction next!
She does. I couldn't be so horrible as to not let her be a mother on top of everything else...
Forgive me for this but I found this chapter terribly cute! Sad, but cute...
Oh no, so did I! It was a great relief from all the really bitter grief we've had for the past few chapters!
Alexander really, really needs to find a way to send Nora South before they really do do something they will regret.
Mary's needs or not, does Alexander want the scandal, and hassle an affair with Nora will cause? Even if his loins are leading the way Head should say no. Nora has no choice if he kicks her out. Mary will understand if he confesses once Nora is gone...... or she may hate him forever.
Mary's needs or not, does Alexander want the scandal, and hassle an affair with Nora will cause? Even if his loins are leading the way Head should say no. Nora has no choice if he kicks her out. Mary will understand if he confesses once Nora is gone...... or she may hate him forever.
I know, I know... But Mary is desperate to keep Nora... To the point where she fights Papa Boleyn for her, and Alexander feels so guilty about everything that he doesn't want to refuse Mary anything he doesn't have to. It's a mess, there's no two ways about it.
Alexander is thinking with the other head right now, and well, Nora and Mary get along very well...
Get along well? They consider each other sisters. Mary has called both Meg and Nora her sisters more than once. In semi-public situations, no less.
Oh yeah, but then how could she have known that at thirteen, when they were all safe at home in London and Dingwall was just a distant speck on the horizon?