The King's Study

It's Madeline. I called back not daring to open the door. It sounded like I had picked a rather bad moment to knock. Men could be so crude with their comments of the opposite sex I did not want to be privy to this conversation. Maybe James and Mary should've had a honeymoon in another part of Scotland whilst she was new to the land. To talk about a queen in such a way was a disgrace did the council have no shame. Clearly not arrogant pigs.

James stood up as he heard that it was Madeline. When had he last seen her? Years - at least, he thought. Indeed, while she was not his mother's daughter...he had never resented his father's illegitimate children - especially Madeline. She was spirited like James and had her own opinions. What's more, from what he heard, she resembled their father greatly. This only endeared her character more to James. How could children be punished for being born through passion and love? She was his sister - in his eyes, there was no illegitimacy for him.

"Gentlemen," James said - silencing their bickering with his commanding tone. When he wanted to, he could speak like a King and in that moment he did. His deep voice booming firmly around the room, "If you could leave while I visit with the Princess...we shall continue this later. I'm sure you can understand her voice shall be sweeter than your dulcet tones."

His friends in the council laughed at his joke and stood first, bowing respectfully and leaving the room. James walked to the door, saying his goodbyes and finally saw Madeline - quite grown. He laughed happily and gave her a brotherly embrace, "My dear Madeline - how are you, are you well?"

I find you much changed yourself dear brother. He was now a grown up man not a young lad trying to figure out his way. I was now the one who was trying to find some purpose at court. I was the less demanding one I never ordered the attention of my brother. Knowing how time filling his days were sorting out his council members. Being a husband to a strange lady who came from France. All reports I heard about their union seemed to be of happy news which gave people hope. His dark, brooding features were like our father's or what I could remember of him which was not a lot.

“Me changed?” he retorted with a chuckle and ushered her into the room. Papers and documents were still strewn about the table at which council meetings were convened. The parchment contained details from ambassadors representing Scotland in Europe, petitions from land owners and offers - already - of marriage for he and Mary’s heirs, despite the fact the royal nursery was quite empty, “I can barely recognise you,” he said with a grin and gestured for her to sit down while he gathered the papers into an untidy pile.

"I am glad you have come," he added and tossed the parchment onto his own desk.

I didn't feel much changed to the world around me. Only that I was not ready to leave Scotland and bargain myself for marriage. Not all arranged marriages ended up happily and I would hate to be stuck with an English man. While you were away James something to place. A young girl called Janet turned up claiming to be your sister. I must admit I was scared for the throne. She is a very mute person. My eye's briefly scanned his desk half of the letters I had no clue as to what they were about.

James nodded as he remembered the peculiar visit in Aberdeen. It was the same day that he had met Mary and he was too preoccupied to pay the girl any mind. His mind was full of Mary, he remembered it in that moment; how she had peered out from her carriage, how they had walked down that glenn together and how he returned to the party entirely besotted. He left the gathering a free man and returned a prisoner to his love.

“I met her. Though you needn't fear my - or indeed your - safety, she was far too timid to present threat to anyone,” he said and sat down in front of Madeline, allowing himself to be more relaxed around her. He had known Madeline since boyhood and while they had not necessarily grown up together, he had been aware of her from infancy. She looked nothing like his mother but he heard people remark how much she had inherited their father’s looks: dark hair and darker eyes. James felt proud that his sister had become such a composed and beautiful young girl.

“And you are right,” he said with a chuckle, “She was strange and quiet! I suppose her claim is understandable, she shares a resemblance but so do half of Scotland. I’ve known of you nearly all my life but she has appeared from no where…I think it a little opportunistic on her part…I thought she might have designs on entering my wife’s household."

They journey to his study had been quiet and fraught. He could feel each thread that bound them reverberate, pulling him closer to her. He could feel his arm brush against her’s as they filed through the corridors and finally reach the door. He tried the handle and the door yielded to him with a steady creak.

The room was dark, unlit with only the constant fire burning and crackling - the orange sparks dancing above the flame. He shrugged out of his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, one she had made. It had been no mistake to bring her to the study. It was always well stocked with whiskey and the stained glass window had an unobstructed view of the woods. Indeed, the study was miles away from his own private chambers, now joined to Mary's chambers.

He moved quickly, collecting candles from a drawer in the large wooden sideboard by the door, “I think there is some whiskey in the cabinet,” James said and made over to the fire.

He hunched by the hearth and lit each candle with measured care, each adding a little more light to the room. In no time, the room was a warm glow so James glanced over his shoulder in Isabel's direction. She looked like she fit in that room, stood amongst his things so unaffected by it all - gentle and tall amongst the furniture but looking as if she belonged, “I'm glad you're here. It's better with you here."

There was something about his study it reminded me of barley with a hint of freedom. Obligingly; I grabbed two bottles of whiskey this would be the first time in a long time I would let it pass my lips. Hamish drunk every night at every tavern him and his men travelled to the smell of alcohol started to wind me up that I didn't touch it. But James wasn't my husband; he unfortunately wouldn't try to fumble me when he had one too many and I wouldn't need to knock him out. A garland of Holly with berries bright and little candles decorated his fireplace. I made my way over to the starting fire as it looked somewhat cosier and comfortable to talk by other than in a chair. "I don't think your wife would agree with you on that. But you never know I might have plans to stay Indefinitely." Things had changed for me; perhaps they had changed for James as well not in the way I had hoped for. I guess I was just a little bit toxic to be around not ever taking his feelings into account only just what I wanted. I had once been told that once a person had grasped hold of the rose he craved it instantly fizzled out. Leaving only the petals behind for the next wind to sweep along. James was just my fantasy and I the thorn in the rose the constant reminder that if he should grasp me his rose would be gone. I went back to the cabinet and fetched two drinking glasses; mine slightly the larger one.

“We won’t talk of Mary tonight,” he said quiet enough, his usual deep tone but there was a certain command in his voice. He couldn’t quite grasp why things had become the way they were, what was the cause and where things had gone wrong. He loved Mary, how could he not? She was his wife, the mother of his son…yet only now it seemed they had started to realise how different they were from one another. He would always love her, but tonight he would forget he was married.

He remained by the fire and pulled a thick fur from a nearby chair, throwing it over the stone floor and promptly sitting atop it. James opened the one of the bottles of whiskey, immediately recognising the familiar smell with a smile, “Indefinitely sounds good,” he said with a smirk as she kept her back to him, collecting some tumblers, “How is married life?” he asked.

[color=#006666]"Violent and tiring."[color] I shut the doors, making my way to the fire; wishing we had chestnuts to roast on the open fire not that I liked them. "I do not like being a wife having to obey a man I miss freedom; but let's not talk about our partners. How are you though." I kept my glass in my lap holding out his as I waited for him to pour out the whiskey. He seemed more relaxed now not so on guard about being in my company as he was outside. He smiled much more softly showing his kind side as the fire lighted up his face. I had missed our close chats with one another; they had always been unplanned and eventful far from dull. "If you must know I ran away that's not the reason I am here. I missed you"

James kept quiet for one moment. A punctuated and thoughtful pause. When she last spoke of her husband, she defended him - or at least, did not tolerate James’s dislike of him. He didn’t want to quarrel - not any more - especially not with Isabel. However he did mark it and swore that if she did so bid it, he would find her husband and pierce him with his sword. The very thought of another man harming Isabel was abhorrent, “You are a free woman here,” was all he replied as he filled her cup first, pouring in a little more than normal. His too contained a little too much. He didn’t anticipate their evening would be one for measured sips.

James looked down as she said she had missed him. He tried to conceal his grin but eventually his bright and charming smile broke through. His dark eyes flickered up to her’s, tinged golden by the fire, “I don’t blame you,” he said mischievously, “How could you not?”

He took a gulp of the whiskey and said deeply, in Gaelic, as if to keep things even more private between them, "I have thought of your return from England often...in the house."

I tried to take a sip; but couldn't as for the very massive smile which was now permanently fixed on my lips. Maybe it was because we were sitting on top of a fire or the very delicious memory of the cottage. But I had most certainly grown hotter within seconds the only thing I could say was. "Do you have any secret rooms as if tonight turned out anything like my return you are going to need one." I whispered; looking deeply back into his eyes not breaking my gaze from him. We had both come so close to kissing back at the cottage James was one of those men the first sip and you would be ruined. Always wanting to go back for more and more until utterly exhausted or couldn't move. I never let my husband have me ever that was for James to take even though he wouldn't.

James smirked into his glass and could not help but laugh. His smile soon turned mischievous - the boyish look that so often crept upon his features around Isabel. If she had been with him a year in the past there would hardly have been any need for secret rooms down deserted corridors and in that time, the rooms were largely unoccupied - some only James possessed the keys to. Now, the court had grown in size and few of those rooms remained, “There are still a few…here and there,” he said playfully and took another drink.

He was glad that whiskey burned away some of the memories, but he couldn't quite shake the thought of how her fingers had touched his neck, so close to his chest. How he could feel her warmth...
He took another, larger, gulp.

I laughed; trying to hide my disappointment at his need to turn to whiskey. Yet if I came on to him.... No; no it had to be mutual we would need to come together at the same time. I put my glass down heading over to the stain glass window and all the beauty of the woods. The study had candles a light, but just a few here and there mainly it was the fire; that shone so brightly the same fire that burned inside of me. Impatiently waiting for James put out. Now I was going to play with the fire inside of me. "I have often screamed out your name in my sleep the sheets covered in sweat my body glistening as bright as a star. Some nights in-between my legs I am soaked as I have dreamed of you kissing me biting my nipples and other places. Have I caused you to do the same."

He looked up with a sigh. With her back to him and the room, he felt as if he was alone and she was only in his imagination. He was tempted, of course he was, he was a man and he had never been so bound. It had been a hellish day, he was exhausted after the hunt and all the arguing; he was filled with concern for Jamie. If James was ever vulnerable - it was in that moment. He finished his whiskey and looked about the room, at all his things - the papers on his desk, the books with broken spins and then to Isabel. He imagined what it would be like to do what he would if he was not bound. He had never loved another when he was not free to give himself, he was bound by word and blood - he wanted to but he was tied.

He stood up, “Isabel, if we were free, you know I would not hesitate the way I do. You are my friend, my good friend,” his voice came out deep and broken. He was ridden with guilt, soaked in it - guilt for being alone with her and tempted as he was, guilt whenever he thought of Mary, “We are the same, you and I, you know what I think and feel…better than I do. So you know that I think these things…but you know I am married - as are you - and I love her.”

Nothing had changed at all James was still loyal to a woman who in my eye's didn't love him or in the slightest respect him. I turned around to face him a neutral smile placed on my lips as I avoided all contact in facing him. "I will always want to be with you James that I cannot change. I apologize if my return has caused a rift in your marriage I had never intended that to happen. " I felt like he wasn't happy with Mary he wasn't the same friend who was carefree anymore. He carried a burden that weighed down heavy on his shoulders; large dark rings under his eyes; I wanted to scoop him up in my arms.

James padded towards her with an apologetic smile. He came so close that he could smell the scent of her and it was like home; he could smell the rain and the glens, the flowers that had ceased to bloom and the warm hearth. It was no crafted perfume, she was just Isabel and in that light he earnestly wished that he could love her as she should be loved.

"I'm sorry," he said dimly, "I would have given you it all but I'm stuck and I'm fool enough to still love that which binds me."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her into his arms and hugged her, "If only we had met sooner, Isabel," he mumbled against her dark hair. He felt her in his arms, tall enough to look him straight in the eye and delicate enough to fit into his arms with ease, "You are very loved, my Isabel."

I shouldn't come back I promised that I would stay away and let him have the happy ending he so justly deserve. I didn't hug him back just gently placed my hand on his elbow turning my head to the side. "Is their anything I can do to fix this situation." Even if we met years ago I wouldn't of wanted to be a queen just his lover. Ladies like myself weren't made for such things we were strong skinned and bawdy not very lady like at all. Now it would be impossible to stay at court and I would have to go back to my husband leaving my darling friend to fix everything himself.

"It's not your fault," he mumbled, "None of it - none of this mess."

He let her go but remained near. They were the same, he and Isabel. It were as if they had been raised in the same home, had been taught by the same masters and had tumbled into adulthood and their mutual affections. He knew, assuredly, if he had met her before Mary and before the birth of his son - he would never stop until he had her in his bed and heard her laughter daily. He would keep her at his right hand in council meetings, give her gowns and listen to her council - he imagined how they would chuckle at those who disapproved.

"I want to give you the house - the one in Auchlyne...to sell or lease to a tenant. You'll get good money from it, it's close to the castle and the land yields well. It's yours. Something you can live off, so you need never have to rely on your husband."

"So what happens now how will you and Mary fix things." I had never wanted anything from James only him of course. It was about time that what ever I felt for him be put behind me no matter how hard I cared for him. Never would their be a future for us ever so all that I wished would have to stop. I felt broken a little the cracks starting to appear as it would prove impossible to even remain friends anymore.

He shook his head, which was dipped down, looking at the short distance between them. He took both her hands, holding them in his gently, “I scarcely know,” he whispered.

He didn’t want to think of it, or her. He had never loved one quite like he loved Mary, never had he felt such devotion and such an urge to protect. She was the noble from France who placed her gentle hand in his, as she arrived into his world. They had taken refuge in one another, for a time but it was no longer easy. James started to wonder if it ever was, if she had ever loved him and not just the idea of him. He was not a King in his behaviour, like Isabel, he did not fit with the upperclass and was content to spend his days amongst normal people. Mary was not, she moved with constant grace and was higher than James. When it came down to it, they were opposites.

He didn’t know why he did it but he leaned towards Isabel and kissed her forehead, “I wish I could run. Live amongst the people again. I hate the palace and spending my days in council. You remind me of all that I want…it’s easier with you.”

Did I want to leave him alone and lonely like hell I did. I wanted to hold him in my arms; let him weep if needs be I wouldn't judge or tell anybody he meant a lot to me. James was the last person I would ever betray. All his life he had to fight for Scotland the throne and now it seemed to fight for his wife when would he ever be left alone to be happy and do as he wanted. I enclosed my hands; both around his I would stay and help him through this as a part of me was scared. Scared that James would never recover from this that he would sink into a deep sorrow consoling himself with alcohol. "Do what makes you happy my friend. If Mary makes you happy then be with her you are the King she doesn't rule Scotland. French people are ruthless; never liked them council will argue over this when they find out. Be prepared as some will want rid of her mainly the ones who are loyal to Scotland."

James sighed. For once, in his life, he had gone back to feeling how he felt as a boy - trapped...yet again, by another Queen. He had vowed to himself: never let it happen again, never give up your freedom anymore than you already have to. Yet, there he stood with Isabel - bound and not happily so.

James dipped his forehead against Isabel's and could only smile. He did not need to dip down to her level or speak differently - she looked him straight in the eyes and was his kin. The ties she had on him were gentle ones that he wished he could knot tighter. Isabel was right, the people liked Mary and had done since her coronation. The people were fairer and easier to please than the council - a pretty face and a kind word was all they expected. The council did not share their affections and increasingly - nor did James's kin who would normally agree with him. They wished he had married a clanswoman or even an English noble as his father had.

With a sudden sense of conviction James paced back from Isabel and gathered his dagger from his belt. He used it to tear a piece of tartan which was tied around his belt. As he replaced the knife in it's sheath he moved towards Isabel. Gently he tugged against the neckline of her dress, sparing one dark and intense gaze to her chest before sliding the fabric beneath her gown. She would know the significance, she would know how men used to tuck their colours beneath their women's dresses - a sign of protection and devotion, "I need to go," he mumbled and allowed one hand to linger on her heart as the other ran through his hair, "Can we write at least? Or see one another during the day...before you go?"

The pressing issue of Jamie’s future had successfully been avoided for well over a year. Since his birth in the late summer the year before, the council and parliament had almost constantly been pressing James for a betrothal to be made. Quietly, James had been in personal talks with Italy - not even his Italian ambassador was aware. James believed that an Italian alliance - perhaps with the Medici’s - would be most profitable. It would tie him with the Church and the Emperor and the dowry from Italy would be immense.

Still, despite everything, Adam Otterburn had made offers to England…much to James’s fury. He alone knew the terrible realities of alliance between Scotland and England. The argument between James and Otterburn could be heard down the halls of the palace and James had not allowed him into council meetings since. Yet, the plans had been set and James waited in his study for the arrival of his aunt…an English woman and sister to the English king.

James, had dressed in his kilt - ceremonial colours, and had slicked back his hair. He had made arrangements for court to be gleaming upon her arrival - to look distinctly Scottish and thriving. She was his family but she was English and the thought of an enemy in his court caused him great frustration.

The journey had been arduous: difficult and uncomfortable. The weather had been dreadful and made the roads treacherous as my household and I made our way to Stirling. My last visit to the highland nation had been to see my sister and her family: now I travelled to see the family of my late eldest sister, the Scottish Royal family. For a girl used to exquisite French Chateaux and the magnificent palaces of my brother, Henry, I found the rugged charm of the castle lost upon me. The ambassador had told me of the beauty of Scotland when he discussed the matter of my daughter's betrothal, which I had seen upon my last visit but I had qualms about my darling Lizzie spending her life in the wild, untamed north.

Dressed in a gown made of cloth of silver, I was bedecked in my finest jewellery and had been made to look the exquisite princess I was. With my ladies assembled behind me, we waited to be announced. While at home, I could happily avoid court etiquette and formal announcements: I was the King's sister and could go unnoticed from time to time. Now that I was at a foreign court, I was representing Henry and the House of Tudor.

"Vos Majestés , puis-je présenter : Sa Grâce , Katherine , princesse d'Angleterre et reine douairière de Navarre et son Grace, la princesse Elizabeth de Navarre."

My nephew was infamous for his distain towards the English and while his queen was French, I was more continental than I was English: raised at Poissy, most of my life had been spent across the channel and I intended to show these dour Scots what sophistication and elegance were. As the doors swung open to admit me, I glided in: moving with my signature grace before sweeping into a curtsy.

"Your Majesty" I sing in a voice like milk and honey as I rise to face my Kingly nephew: a man born while I was still a child.