Mary sat at her desk and tried to study the book her language tutor had given her, but there was too much on her mind to concentrate on Portuguese.

How had it come to this? Just a week ago, Mary was full of hope after Francis sent men to defend her country's borders as well as their engagement. Now she was full of dread, their actions resulting in the loss of six companies and perhaps even Sebastian, forcing her to turn to Tomas' proposal. Francis had said they had to do what was best for their countries, but even though she knew he was right, it didn't make the decision any easier. Especially after he had kissed her with such longing and regret. He had opened up a new world to her and then shattered it, like her heart. But she must do what she must for Scotland, so she went to Tomas and accepted.

The newly crowned Prince of Portugal was dark and dashing, noble and charismatic, everything a prince ought to be. He just wasn't the prince she wanted. He did seem to genuinely care for Mary though and was offering salvation for her people, for which she was entirely grateful. Perhaps Aylee was right; feelings may come in time. They had the rest of their lives to get to know one another, after all. In the days after, however, she found just how different the two princes were. The more she saw of Tomas, the darker her future looked.

Tomas was extremely jealous of Francis and demanded he stay away from his bride-to-be. In truth, Francis and Mary were already avoiding seeing each other. The pain of knowing how close they had been to being together was too much. When they were both required to attend meals or meetings, they never spoke or came near one another. The rare and brief glances they exchanged were enough to communicate their grief but also enough to send Tomas into a jealous rage. He and Francis nearly came to blows over some imagined slights before Mary stepped between them. "Stop," she commanded, her strong voice echoing in the hall. Then she very deliberately turned to her new fiancé, took his arm, and left with him. The message was clear to all. She had not seen Francis since.

Still, Tomas requested Mary keep to her room unless he was there to accompany her to the Dining Hall or Gardens. She couldn't even visit Bash to see how he was recovering. She hated feeling like a caged song bird, but she was determined to make this alliance work, so she complied, even as her unease grew. His gentle caress quickly progressed into a hard grip, bruising her wrist or waist until she could hardly breathe. Mary had no experience in physical intimacy. She wondered if this was what Kenna meant by "strong arms" and "breathless embraces." Yet it had felt so different, so right when Francis had held her...

Mary shook her head. She must forget Francis. She sighed. The thought was as ridiculous as forgetting herself.

A soft scraping noise from behind provided a much-needed distraction. She stood and walked toward the hidden passageway door.

"Clarissa?" she called. "Is that you? Have you come to play?" The mysterious girl had visited Mary several times, always at unexpected moments. Sometimes it was every few days or every few weeks. Sometimes heard but never seen. Mary still knew nothing about her, other than the fact that she enjoyed trading marbles, smooth river stones, wildflowers, and bits of lace and ribbon. Lately, Mary and Clarissa had been playing a game of chess. Mary left the board on a side table near the hidden door, doing a turn every time she noticed one of the black pieces had been moved while she wasn't looking.

But before Mary reached that corner of her room, she heard Clarissa's harsh whisper. "Stop." Mary gasped as a girl's silhouette appeared on the room divider panel.

"You're here." Mary said with some apprehension. Clarissa hadn't made her presence in the room known since she had warned Mary about the wine. "Is there something wrong, Clarissa?"

A small silhouette of a dragon popped up on the panel. A shadow puppet. Mary let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Are you going to tell me a story?"

"A riddle," Clarissa rasped. A lion silhouette went up opposite. "The lion will fight the dragon on the field of poppies."

A chill ran through Mary. That was what Nostradamus had told her. "Yes, England will fight Portugal. My fiancé Prince Tomas has sent men to help defend Scotland against the English." Mary hoped her calm but curious tone would encourage Clarissa to talk more. Perhaps she knew something about that prophecy.

"Another riddle," was all she said. "The lion plants lily seeds. How did they grow into poppies?"

Mary was thoroughly perplexed. "I...I don't know. How?"

"With blood."

Mary became frightened. "...Whose?"

"Beware the dragon!" Clarissa whispered urgently. She flipped the dragon's shadow so that it was no longer facing the lion. Instead, the two faced a third shadow emerging: the fleur-de-lis.

"Is France in danger?" Mary gasped. A knock at the door made her jump. When she looked back to the panel, the shadows were gone and she heard the scrape of the hidden door closing. Mary's heart beat fast. She took slow breaths to compose herself before going to the door. She opened it and her heart jumped again when she saw Tomas.

"It is time for the evening feast, my bride." He gripped her arm tightly and led her out.

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This, like the show, is a piece of historical fiction/fantasy. I tried to avoid being anachronistic, but the historical characters and political plotlines are not based on any research. I do not own Reign. Please review if you like or dislike. Thanks!