I decided to rewrite the first chapters – I assumed it would be easier if they were short (it was faster, of course), but somehow this feels better. At least to me – I'd be glad to read your thoughts.

It was a quiet night in early summer, the sky a soft blue embroidered with pearl-white stars. Sometime in the past week, the nightingales had started their concerts, filling the air with sounds of longing and joy, but not tonight. They were stifled as was the wind, hidden as the moon – as if nature itself was holding its breath.
Standing on top of the wall Catherine de Medici felt the silence settling down heavily on her chest, as if to choke her as well.
But what her cousins, Spanish soldiers and assassins couldn't do, nature wouldn't, either.

"What a lovely night." Her voice was sharp and only mildly amused, the tone she used to scare servants and mistresses. They never knew whether she was serious or not. "It's going to be a lovely day tomorrow, don't you think?"
"A storm is coming." Nostradamus was not fooled by his queen's demeanor.
"Storms are always coming in these times of the year. Coming and passing."
"Hopefully."
"What do you mean?" She looked at him but the seer shook his head. "I've seen nothing, your majesty. Nothing."
"No catastrophy? I'm surprised." Again, her tone was wasted on the man. Catherine sighed impatiently. "What is it? If you don't see anything bad, why are you looking at me as if…"
"I see nothing, majesty!" Finally, the faraway expression was gone from Nostradamus' eyes. He looked at his queen intently. "The future I saw when your first son was born is no longer there."

What her cousins, Spanish soldiers, assassins and nature hadn't been able to, these words did. Gasping, Catherine stumbled back, clutching her dress over her rapidly pounding heart. "What do you mean? What will happen to my son? To Mary?"
Nostradamus shook his head again. "I don't know. All I can say is that Mary Stuart will change Francis' life. Forever."
"Of course she will, she's to become his bride", Catherine snapped. "But will it be a change for the better? Will he be king of Scotland, of England? What will happen to the Valois?"
The seer shrugged. "I don't know. Everything could happen. Francis might well be the greatest king Europe has ever seen. Or he might fall, and France with him."
Catherine shivered. "What can I do?"
"Pray, your majesty. Pray and teach the children to be strong. They will have to fight in this world."
"Everyone has to fight, especially royals. Can they win, Nostradamus? If I give my life to protect both of them, can they win?"
Nostradamus sighed. "I truly don't know, your majesty. But I do think that a mother's love can never be wrong. Mary is a queen but she is also a child."
"A child and worse, a girl", Catherine murmured, more to herself. "Her life's been in danger since the day she was born. If this alliance should work, if she's to help Francis gain England as well, she'll need every strength she can get." She closed her eyes. "And to survive as a woman, she'll need even more of it."
"And will you give her that strength, your majesty?" Nostradamus looked at her cautiously. The queen's mind could only be overruled by her motherly heart, but that part, so far, was reserved for the children she had born herself. If she looked at Mary Stuart the way she looked at the bastard Sebastian, the queen of Scotland would wilt and die before winter came.

Catherine looked at the sea in front of her, smooth and even like glass. "This girl will define my son's future, you say?"
"I believe so, your majesty."
"Then I will make her stronger and braver than any queen before."

"Bash?" A sound of flesh hitting wood, a bravely stifled cry of pain. "Bash, wake up!"
"What the… Francis!" Bash almost jumped out of his bed, a knife ready in his hand. When he saw who the intruder was his first reaction was to put the blade away, but then again - not even the worst tempest could wake his little brother once he slept. If he had woken up and walked down the corridors to Diane's chambers all by himself, something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

He cleared his suddenly very dry throat. "Francis, what happened?"
The heir of France stared at his big brother, apparently startled by the reaction. "Did I wake you up?"
Bash frowned, only slightly calmed by the little one's obvious lack of fear. "It's past midnight, Francis. Of course you woke me up. I thought the castle was on fire to make you get up in the middle of the night!"
"Oh… I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep, I didn't think…" Guilt showed on prince's face, causing his lower lip to tremble until he bit it.
Finally pushing the knife back into the wood next to his pillow, Bash forced himself to smile. "Don't do that, little brother. It won't look good tomorrow when you see your bride."

Hit the mark. Francis stopped biting his lips as his cheeks and ears started glowing. "That's why…" he shrugged, obviously too ashamed to speak.
After a moment of gloating – at least he would never be forced to marry any foreign girl – Bash finished the sentence. "That's why you can't sleep?"
The six-year-old nodded.
"Why?"
Up to now, Francis had seemed downright enthusiastic to meet the girl he was to marry. A queen of five years, crowned shortly after she was born. Bash stifled an incredulous laughter. It was ridiculous. Both the fact that a girl younger than him should already have the same honors as his father had, and the fact that her own people were unable to protect her and therefore would send her to a foreign court. He didn't know how to play chess yet, but a queen wasn't supposed to be treated like a pawn, was she?
"What are you scared of?" No matter his own thoughts and perspectives, he would not let his brother suffer from this crazy world if he could hinder it.
"I'm scared that…" Francis took a deep breath. "Bash, do you think she will like me?"
"Of course she will!" Bash smiled, feeling his heart melt toward the boy who would one day command his every step. Sometimes he wondered how Francis could be Catherine's son – he had nothing of her malice, nothing of her cunning. He was just good. And whether the queen liked it or not, Bash had sworn himself always to protect him.

"Francis!"
Speaking of the queen – she rushed in without knocking just as the boys hugged, and harshly tore them apart. "You should be asleep, my dear, tomorrow is an important day. You can't just walk around here all night." The smiled she still found for her son was all but gone when she looked at the king's bastard. "Where's your mother?"
Bash swallowed. He had learned not to answer that question. She would hit him anyway, and telling her what she already knew for Bash felt like betraying his mother.
Tonight, however, Catherine made do with glaring at him as she led Francis out of the room. "You will stay in here tomorrow", she said at the door, without looking back. "The queen of Scotland will sooner or later happen to see you but she – and you – should know your place by then." Only now she turned her head, and Bash forced himself to hold the glance. He couldn't show how terrified he was by the queen's hatred, not if he wanted Francis to overcome his own fear. "Yes, your majesty." His voice quivered but he managed to smile at his brother as the doors closed, leaving him alone once again.