Mary sighed. She gazed up at the magnificent castle from her carriage, her heart pounding. It had been years since she had been at the French Court. Stashed away in hiding for her own protection, Mary had grown up away from the complications of a royal life. She did not miss the lack of privacy, the grueling expectations, and the uncomfortable attire. She did, however, miss someone in particular.
The carriage door swung open, and there stood her childhood friend and fiance, Francis.
Francis had grown up from the lanky, rambunctious child into a dashing, mature young man. His blue eyes flickered as his gaze landed upon Mary.
He cleared his throat, and with a slight bow of the head, welcomed his bride-to-be with a simple, "Your Majesty."
He extended his hand, ready to help her down from the carriage.
Mary blushed. She had heard that Francis had become handsome, but even she was taken aback at how striking he looked. She accepted his hand and slowly stepped down from the carriage.
Suddenly, her foot caught in the train of her dress and Mary felt her body lurch forward. Her first entrance back to the French Court was going to be a tumble to the ground…
..until a pair of strong arms caught her.
Mary, who had closed her eyes shut from fear of pain and humiliation, looked up at her savior. Francis fought back a smile.
"A memorable entrance, why am I not surprised?" He chuckled.
Once Mary had regained her footing, she stood up tall and smoothed her dress. She remembered that while she was excited to be reunited with Francis, she was here for her country. She was to rule Scotland, and that had to stay at the forefront of her mind.
