Mary lay in her bed, staring into nothing. Was it really just a week ago that she'd had her first kiss with a young man she'd known since childhood?

Did she really accept another man's proposal immediately after? A man that is significantly older than the former, whom she's only known for a few weeks. A man who, as of late, has been pulling her around and treating her as nothing more than property. Is this really her duty to Scotland, to allow herself to be treated this way? Of course, she already knew the answer to her own question: there was no end to her duty.

There was a sharp knock at the door that pulled Mary from her thoughts. For a moment she feared it was her fiancée. Perhaps if she ignored it, they would leave?

There was another knock. "Mary, it's me. May I come in?" Mary's eyes bolted open wide and she nearly tripped in her haste to reach the door.

"Francis," she breathed. He shouldn't be there, she thought. It was against propriety.

"It's alright, no one saw me," he smiled gently down at her.

"I know, but you still shouldn't be here, someone could have seen you, and"

"But they didn't. Please, can I come in?" Mary looked quickly down each end of the corridor and then stepped aside to let him in.

He entered quickly but became acted almost leisurely once the door was closed.

"I still think that you shouldn't be here, I mean…"

"How's your arm?" Francis took a few paces toward the young queen. Instinctively, she covered it with her other.

"My what?"

"Your left forearm. I saw how Tomas towed you along, you looked very uncomfortable." He said gently. "May I look?"

" I don't see how it's any of your business," Mary said haughtily, but he was already rolling up the sleeve of her gown to reveal bruises in the shape of a man's hand.

"Oh, Mary," the prince breathed. He looked up at her. "Does it hurt?"

Mary moved to sit down on the edge of her bed. "Not until you reminded me that it did."

He continued to inspect her arm. "Are there more?"

She didn't respond for several moments and Francis patiently allotted her the time.

"Some," she finally said.

"Where are they?" Mary was taken aback by his bold question.

"I'm not going to tell you." Francis chuckled darkly.

"I'm sure I could guess," he said. "I'd wager that they are on your other forearm, and just below your shoulders. Perhaps on your sides?" He asked.

Mary stared at him indignantly. However, when she realized his genuine concern, her expression softened. "How did you know?"

"I've spent my whole life at court. I've watched many men treat women no better than animals. I know the signs and what to look for." Mary looked down at her lap. Gently, Francis reached his hand to put two fingers beneath Mary's chin. She was looking at him now.

"You can't marry him, Mary. He's a monster."

"Well, it seems that he's my only option, your highness," she responded sarcastically.

A deep shame crossed Francis face. He looked down for a moment, averting his eyes.

"I've been collecting information on Tomas, things that could get you out of your engagement."

"Like what?" Mary was unwilling to believe that there was any way out.

"He may have murdered his first wife. I don't think it was influenza." Mary choked a bit, but quickly gathered herself.

"That's just…rumors." She said.

"There's more: I have reason to believe that he has been working with England. There's more to what happened to Bash and the six companies. Information was intercepted. People knew too soon. I think that he's behind it. That he has secrets."

"He's helping Scotland, very willingly, as well. France hasn't done that. I know your father sent those companies, but after great persuasion. And we've gone over our betrothal. What if the political situation is never ripe for our marriage, and I just sit here at French court until you marry into a better alliance? What's different this time?"

"This time," Francis braced himself, "I know what it's like to see you with another man. And my father knows what it means to forever lose the alliance with Scotland. Neither of us like what we've seen."

Mary looked at him disbelief. She stood up and shook her head at the young man. "You're just as possessive as Tomas. I am a queen, I'm not some doll that you don't want to share!"

Francis stood as well and put his hands in front of him in a sign of defeat. "Mary, I didn't mean it like that. You are a queen. But you're also smart and beautiful and I remember when you were a child. When were children together, Tomas was our age. Look at how he's treating you. I would never hurt you. I would never lay a hand on you, Mary, which is honestly the very least anyone could do in a marriage. But, Mary: you're my friend, and I…more than care about you. I just want the world for you, and for your country. If you give me time, just a bit, I could marry you. You would have a husband who was genuinely fond of you and behaved like he was. And you would have France to protect Scotland and you would have me to protect you. No matter what you say, just know that as long as you're in this castle, I will not stand for Tomas hurting you. Mary, please. Tell me that you'll end this engagement. It will solve nothing for you in the long term. I will spend every waking minute trying to finalize an alliance with Scotland. Just, please. Don't marry Tomas."

"Francis, I don't know what to say."

"Have you ever seen a crowned prince beg before? Because I'm prepared to do just that." And with that he actually got down on his knees and made his way closer to Mary, and grabbed her hand.

"Promises for people like us are so…fleeting. But this isn't fleeting, my precious Mary. I'll secure an alliance, I'll do everything I can. France would be so lucky to have you as its queen. I know it's not the companies you need, but didn't you say that you would rather have hope with me that certainty anywhere else?"

Mary looked down at him for a moment.

"Please," he said.

"You'll help me end it?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll be there when you tell him."

"Alright," Mary smiled.

"Alright?" Francis asked in disbelief as he stood up.

"I'll accept your hope and your fondness and perhaps someday even your love." Francis wrapped her in his arms.

"After literally begging I'm not too proud to say that the day for love may already be here."