Once Mary had settled in, she decided to walk around the grounds of the castle. She was feeling overwhelmed, returning to French Court. She was a future ruler and a future bride, yet the thought of ruling a country and a man's heart terrified her. As
/she ambled down the hallway, she heard voices in one of the corridors ahead. Curious, she quietly tiptoed beside the wall and hovered by an entrance.
"If I have a limited time to live, I don't want to spend it as king."
Mary held in a gasp. It was Francis.
"You have no other choice. A bastard can never be king."
Mary hadn't met Francis's bastard brother, Sebastian, yet, but she assumed he was the voice answering to Francis.
"He can if the the true heir is dead."
"What are you saying, brother?!"
"I'm saying I need you to help me stage my own death. I am going to run away, somewhere where I can't be found. Perhaps I will take a ship to Italy, or India, or Russia… I don't know, I haven't thought that far yet. I just need you to agree to help mewith
this. If the doctor believes I will die before I turn thirty, I refuse to rot away at the throne. I want to live, Sebastian."
A moment of silence passed. It took everything in Mary's will not to rush around the corner and scream at the two men. Francis was ill? A staged death? This was complete madness.
"Sebastian…? Please." Francis's voice sounded strained.
A moment of silence hung over the corridor.
"Alright. I help you."