Ease of Conversation

I sent my ladies off to do their own exploring, wanting to do mine on my own. As I walked through the familiar stone corridors, my mind swirled with memories of my time here as a child.

Francis and I racing about the corridors, his longer legs allowing him and added length on me, so I was incessantly trying to catch up to him. I am certain Francis was well aware of how vexing having to chase him made me feel, and took great pleasure in it.

I remembered whispering secrets to Francis, and him sharing some with me. I remembered playing games in the nursery, having picnics on the lawn, going horseback riding, and dozens of other memories of my earlier time at French Court.

Perhaps my most favorite memory of all was the time we were jumping on the bed in my chambers. Francis initiated a pillow fight by hitting me with a pillow. Soon we were bouncing around under a shower of snowy white goose feathers.

Our pillow fight interrupted,w e spent the next several moments trying to catch as many of the floating feathers in our hands, until we dissolved into a fit of giggles amid the covers.

I smiled at the memory as I ascended the staircase to the floor where my childhood suite of rooms was located. As I neared the doorway, I was surprised to see the flicker of candlelight glowing from within. I was drawn inside by an unusual sound.

I was surprised to find Francis inside, running an oiled cloth along the blade of a newly fired sword. My shoe scraped against the doorjamb, startling both Francis and I.

"Mary, what are you doing here?" Francis demanded.

"I was exploring," I explained, casting a curious glance around the cavernous room as I spoke. "As these were my old rooms, don't you remember?"

"Not anymore." Francis told me. "No one comes up here."

"Except you." I pointed out.

Francis gave me a sheepish grin.

I glanced past him and saw a collection of items on the table behind him, besides the sword he had been working on before I had interrupted him. There were a couple of swords, a half dozen knives in different stages of completion, along with a number of other materials that I imagined was all used in the crafting of such weaponry.

"What's all this?" I asked Francis as I moved around him and over to the table.

"I make swords and knives." There was a hint of pride in his voice.

"Is being a blades-man a requirement for future kings now?" I asked him.

"No." Francis said, "But I think a man, even a king, should have some skills."

"You're going to be a great ruler some day." I said. "Isn't that enough?"

"I hope I will be." Francis stated. "But I want to have a real skill. Something I didn't inherit. That wasn't given to me and can't be taken away. My half brother Bash has so many skills. If he wants go learn something new, he does. If he wants to go somewhere, he goes. With out father's blessing. Our father doesn't worry about him dying so much that they don't allow him to live."

"Because he'll never be king." I understood exactly what Francis was saying. I had been protected and sheltered from the moment I was born. Like Francis, I couldn't go and do anything on a whim or alone. Because I was the Queen of Scotland, I always had to make my intentions to travel known so I would have a full escort.

Even though I could roam freely about the castle and its vast lawns, gardens, and courtyards on my own, I was well aware that I was truly never alone. King Henry's men were everywhere about his lands, and I was certain that at least one or more kept me insight at all times.

Realizing that Francis was waiting for me to speak again, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. "The nuns taught me how to milk a goat and cut peat for the fire."

"Impressive."Francis smiled at me. "I suppose if there was an uprising, I could always get by as a blacksmith."

"You wouldn't have to." I told him. "Because I would save you. We would go to Scotland and rule there."

"That's a very kind offer." Francis admitted. "I hope I never have to take you up on it."

"Well, I'll let you get back to your work." I smiled and moved toward the door. "I want to do a little more exploring before I have to get ready for your sister's wedding."

"I will see you then." Francis escorted me to the door and closed it behind me.

I felt somewhat more at ease with Francis after our conversation. Our meeting when I had arrived earlier had been awkward, stilted, because of our years apart.

As he shared his passion about wanting to hone his skills as a knife and sword maker, had given me a glimpse of the boy I remembered, in the young man who stood before me.

If things between us progressed as easily between the days to come, I found myself hopeful that we might marry for love, and not just because it was what our countries wanted us to do.

Author's Note: Dialogue from the Pilot episode of Season 1 of Reign is in Italics.