Francis skipped down the steps of the grand palace, chasing after his little sister Marianne with the widest possible grin adorning his face. "Come here, little rabbit! I promise not to hurt you!" He chuckled after her, pretending to be slow to boost up her morale.
"Non!" She shrieked gleefully, heading straight for the garden's mazes as quickly as her tiny feet could carry her.
"Princesses should not run in their portrait gowns!" He ran faster over to her, scooping all 6 years of her up into his arms with a playful chuckle. "Slow down, little rabbit. We don't want to lose you in the gardens again, how would I be able to sleep without your sweet hugs?" She blushed deep at his response and struggled lightly within his grasp.
"Noooon, Francis I won't lose myself, I promise!" A perfect giggle left her lips and he hoisted her a top his shoulder, forcing more giggling from her.
"I'm not afraid of you losing yourself, but what if you miss dinner? Isabelle promised me she would make something Spanish for you tonight?" Her eyes widened and she cheered happily.
"Sí, sí!" She cried, loving the other language as much as her own, it looked like to Francis. He set her down at the top of the steps and patted her head. "Now little rabbit, go to mother, you know she wants you." Her interest quickly moved to trying to locate her mother and she zipped off, her skirts dragging behind her.
Francis watched her leave and his grin relaxed, taking in the moment of being alone on the front steps, a few seconds of seemingly private privacy. Until it wasn't.
"Your highness? Prince Francis ..." Francis turned his eyes to look at his father's mistress, greeting her with a polite smile despite the idea of his father making love to her more often then not entering his mind.
"Madame." He nodded his head in curiosity before walking straight past her, avoiding further conversing immediately.
"Your highness!" She followed after him, the click of her heels on the marbled floors louder than his own. "S'il vous plaît, listen?" He didn't stop to look at her, continuing on his path.
"What is it that you require, madame?" He asked with more bitterness than he would have liked. Francis took a second and forced himself to be calm. "Oui?"
"Your father sent me to see you, to ask you to attend to him right away, your highness." He shivered at the idea of her being his message carrying bird too. How used she must have felt. He sighed and stopped his walking, determining his actions as being rather childish.
"Yes of course, Merci." He responded with the proper etiquette, and she offered him a low curtsey.
He walked in the way of the main throne room, self consciously making himself taller, attempting to look as confident as possible for his father. He reached the throne room doors and smiled to the announcer and attendant, chuckling. "Hello, feliciano-" The happy Italian gave him a wink, the two having been friends since he was little before having the large doors opened.
"His royal highness and prince of France, Francis Marie Bonnefoi." Feliciano said towards the king in a loud, strong voice, and Francis walked in, treading carefully on the blood red carpet towards his grinning father.
"Francis! My son, come here."
"Father." He bowed low to his king, and dad, wondering silently what it would be like to have the two be separated. Francis walked up the remaining steps to stand in front of his father, finding it hard to smile. Then he saw his mother, smiling kindly towards him with Madeline at her lap, grinning impossibly wide towards her big brother.
"Francis, as ruler of this kingdom, I find it difficult to bring personal life and politics together, but alas the idea still remains." Francis' eyes darted from his sisters back to his father's and he furrowed his brows in curiosity and confusion. "For the longest time we have been at war with the British and I've finally come to terms with myself, a truce seems most intelligent." Francis knew better than to interrupt his king, but found it hard to hold himself back. "I propose, with your mother's agreement, a proposal of marriage between our two kingdoms, to become closer to our long lived enemy." Francis' eyes grew wide this time and he felt like shouting. No way could this happen to him already... He was still playing in the gardens with his siblings, how could he become engaged.
"But father, I..."
"No, my son and prince, I have found you a lovely and worthy candidate for your hand in marriage. Very pretty, and from a line of healthy, wealthy family, who will follow you faithfully. Royalty." Francis shook his head lightly, horror filling his eyes. He wasn't prepared to marry a women he never met! Or seen! What even was her name! Especially one without a mind of her own. His mind rushed back to all the stories his maid used to tell him while his mother was busy being pregnant, of true loves and Noble knights winning the hearts of fair and intelligent maidens. He had always wanted something like that. Someone to love him for him, compositely of him and only him, not for what his title was. As his father continued to speak his ideas, Francis looked straight into nothingness. How could this ever work out...? He turned up his nose and asked himself if he was a man. This is how it had been done for years, and will continue to be for centuries to come. He decided to accept this fate. In no way was it life threatening, and if it helped end wars... No harm could be done. Francis focused back on his father and nodded.
"What you think is best, my father, I will do."
