Ch. 7

By the end of the day, Arthur wasn't entirely sure what events led him to the supper table in the royal Diamond dining room. He knew that now he was sitting beside Francis, spooning something warm and delicious into his mouth and listening to the idle chatter of the other dinner guests around him, their voices like the gibberish of birdsong. As long as he could still pick out Francis's voice beside him, he was more than content to refrain from trying to make conversation. After all, people seemed to like that he was a 'quiet and respectful guest', as Francis put it. Really, he was just happy to have a good, hot meal. Breakfast had been nice, but the stew was wonderful.

"What about you, Arthur?" Arthur looked up. Francis was smiling at him again. He sat up straighter and flicked his gaze around. A couple of other people seemed to be watching him.

"Sorry, I wasn't listening…" The other guests chuckled, as did Francis.

"I asked if you're still hungry."

"Oh!" Arthur put on a small smile. "Not really, this stew is just filling me up. It's so good, isn't it?" Again Francis laughed. He said something to those who were listening and they laughed along, presumably at whatever he'd said.

"Very well. We can get to bed a little early tonight, I'm sure we're all tired, it's been an exhausting couple of days for us here, what with the solstice and all."

"What's the solstice?" Arthur looked up at him. Francis was staring, and his smile faltered slightly.

"It was the summer solstice just a day or two ago…"

"What's that?" Arthur set his spoon in the bowl, taking a quick glance around the table to see if there was a specific was it was supposed to be done. "A Diamond holiday?"

"…not at all. It's the first day of summer." He frowned. "It's one of the most important holidays here in Diamonds, don't you celebrate it in Spades…?" Arthur perked up.

"Oh, we do. But that sort of festival doesn't really last a few days, does it? At this, Francis laughed a little.

"Clearly you have yet to spend the winter season in the palace of Spades…" He muttered. "But here in Diamonds, we always celebrate the summer solstice. It isn't all celebration, there's lots of ceremony and preparation and things that go along with it, but it's still a great festival in Diamonds… it was fantastic this year, you would have loved it." He reached across the table to take Arthur's hand. "…I should probably dismiss these people soon, shouldn't I? They've all got to go home tomorrow morning."

"Have they…?" Arthur glanced around the table at the various unfamiliar faces. He had barely spoken to any of these people, save for Francis of course. He couldn't exactly say he would miss them. It wasn't as though they had been stealing Francis's attention or anything, quite the opposite, Francis had been kind enough to let him tag along for most of the day. When Francis gave him an introduction to someone he tried to be as polite as he could. Few people dodged his line of sight anymore, and some would even toss him a smile if their eyes met. He happened to catch the eye of a young woman in a green frock and grinned, earning a giggle and a wave. Arthur decided he liked these people. "That's a shame. Perhaps I'll get to spend a little more time with you though?"

"Yes, perhaps. I'll have work to do though, as of tomorrow." Francis leaned close enough to whisper, and Arthur moved closer to listen. "Shall we make the most of this one night of freedom?" Arthur froze in his seat.

Say yes, say yes!

"I-I…" Arthur paused. He had been thinking about it- oh, had he been thinking about it- but he would never have dreamed that Francis would make such an offer. It was scandalous, unthinkable! He was a married man, and of another kingdom… what would he do it Alfred found out? "…I don't see why not."

Yes, to hell with Alfred.

"Excellent." Francis squeezed his hand before letting him tuck it back into his lap. He stood from is seat, making some grand statement that Arthur didn't understand a word of for his lack of knowledge about the language. The other dinner guests clapped, some cheered, but most started to make like they were ready to go to their rooms. Francis offered Arthur a hand up from his seat. For the first time he met eyes with one fiery looking blond who had been sitting to Francis's opposite side. Arthur could only assume that this was Francis's Jack, given the way they spoke to each other. If only he knew what the little man was saying. Whatever it was they were talking about, it didn't sound good, but Francis was quick to get himself out of it and lead Arthur away with the other guests.

"You'll have to forgive him." Francis glanced back. The man was staring at them. "That man there is Vash, my Jack… he's such a stick in the mud, everything has to be business with him."

"What did he want?"

"Oh, he was just asking about you." Francis slowed down a little when they were out of the dining room, his arm coming to rest around Arthur's shoulders. "I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. He isn't cruel, just a little prickly. Maybe tomorrow you can even get him to speak Spadian for you."

"Does he speak it?" Arthur glanced back. Vash was making a point of not looking at them. "Then why didn't he speak it just now?"

"He probably didn't want you to know what we were talking about." Francis led Arthur up a sweeping flight of stairs. "I wouldn't worry about it, it's nothing important… and besides, haven't we got more immediate things to think about?" He gave Arthur's shoulder a nudge. Arthur felt a little grin tug at his lips.

"Yes, of course." He sidled up close to Francis. "I was just curious… you have such a beautiful way of speaking you know, your language is truly lovely."

"Do you think so?" Francis quirked an eyebrow. "Mm… Peut-être, vous devriez apprendre à parler Diamant, mon petit chenille-tête..." Arthur didn't catch the way Francis struggled not to snicker.

"Absolutely lovely…" Arthur laid his head on Francis's shoulder. "I will have to learn what all of that means someday."

I'm not sure you want to know what he just said to you dear…

"Someday, yes." Francis led Arthur down a quiet hallway. The lights were a little dimmer here, though each little glass bulb still held a glowing coil inside. Arthur found himself staring at the glass baubles that lined the walls. He was so fixed on them that he nearly bumped into Francis a few times. They had stopped in front of a door, and Francis had produced a little silver key from some pocket.

"Is this your bedroom?" Arthur asked.

"Of course not." Francis fiddled with the key in its lock. "It's a guest bedroom, it's more private. We won't be disturbed here." The door creaked open to reveal a little bedroom not unlike the one Arthur had slept in the previous night. It had a nice bed, big enough for two, tall windows with cream-colored drapes, and glass light fixtures like the ones in the hall. Arthur stepped inside after Francis.

"It's a nice room." Arthur decided. "It's very pretty… I suppose everything in Diamonds is." He toed off his shoes by the door, and his stockings followed. Francis was already at the windows, pulling the drapes shut at each window and turning a little dial on the wall that dimmed the lights. Arthur watched with wide-eyed fascination. "Well, fancy that."

"Yes, Hearts does cultivate some brilliant minds." Francis chuckled, putting a foot up against the wall to undo his boot laces. "I think that something about soft light makes exploring a lover's body more… exciting." Arthur shuddered, and his eyes flit towards the bed. The covers had already been partially turned down. The pillows were propped up in just such a way that they appeared to be waiting for him. On the little side table he could see a little brown box and a vial of golden liquid. Arthur chewed at his lip, his hands folded behind his back. His gaze drifted down to the fine violet carpet beneath his feet.

"Are you alright?" Arthur blinked. Francis's small smile had disappeared. He put his foot down and took a step closer. "You look a little off… Are you having second thoughts?"

"Oh no, not at all!" Arthur quickly shook his head as if shaking away the very suggestion. "I just… I never thought that we would get this far, honestly…" His gaze again sunk to the ground. He cleared his throat quietly and started to tuck his hands behind his back, only to find Francis reaching for them.

"So you've been thinking about doing this with me then?" Francis chuckled. Arthur could practically feel the heat rushing to his cheeks.

"Wh- I… No! I mean, yes, but- b-but not like… er…n-not that I haven't been thinking about you, I mean, y-you're pretty hard to forget, but I haven't-"

"Arthur?" Arthur stopped. Francis had his arms around his waist. His hands were resting just above Arthur's own. Across his lips was a smile warm enough to melt away Arthur's defenses. He didn't realize that they had kissed until Francis had pulled away. "…you're quite unforgettable yourself, you know." He slid his hands up to the small of Arthur's back, and one slipped away. He helped Arthur into bed and climbed over him.

"Wh-what are you doing Francis?" Arthur watched with wide eyes. Francis said nothing at first, but he was already reaching for Arthur's vest.

"Undressing you." His voice was a whisper against Arthur's jaw. "I want to become acquainted with every inch of your lovely body…" His lips brushed against Arthur's neck and down his throat. Arthur could feel the catch in his breath gradually loosening as Francis slipped the vest off his shoulders.

"O-oh, I see…" Arthur murmured, his cheeks flushed red. Francis sat up to meet Arthur's eyes. There was that sweet smile again, and before Arthur could speak again he was silenced with a kiss. This time he let Francis fill his senses. His lips were soft, and still lightly flavored by the taste of wine. Francis let his hands wander over Arthur's chest, lean muscle and the mostly-faded scars from his little tumble off the cliff.

"Where is it?" Arthur's eyes flicked open. When had he closed them? Francis was looking at him expectantly, his smile mellowed somewhat.

"Wh-where's what?" Arthur frowned. He assumed that whatever Francis was referring to it was something blindingly obvious, but he could not for the life of him figure what it was. Francis's wandering hands had slowed to a stop. Arthur gulped, his gaze flitting around. "Uh… s-sorry, I don't know, um…"

"Your royal mark." Francis didn't bother being subtle in looking him over. "I haven't gotten to try it myself, but I have heard…" He caught sight of it when Arthur turned his head; it was on the back of his neck. Francis's grin returned when he saw it. He shifted so that he could press his lips to the precious inky blue Spade on the nape of Arthur's neck. Arthur gasped, tensed for a moment, then slowly relaxed. "…I have heard it's a nice place to touch when one makes love. Is it?"

"O-oh yes…" Arthur murmured. "It feels so nice, almost soothing…" He sighed. A calm smile spread across his lips. "I wish I would have known that sooner, it would have been useful so many times before…" He could hear Francis's gentle laughter close to his ear.

"Why, do you get stressed often?" Francis sat Arthur up and moved so that he could see Arthur's mark. It was a gorgeous crest, blue linework as dark as ink and thin as a spider's thread. He wasted no time bringing it to his lips. Arthur all but melted in his arms, though he was surprise that just kissing it drew a little moan from the Queen's throat.

"Yes, I find I have a knack for getting myself into… stressful situations." Arthur's eyes fluttered and his lips tugged into a lusty little grin. Francis held Arthur against his chest.

"That's unfortunate." He chuckled, smothering little kisses up his jaw and over his cheeks. "Although… I'm more than happy to help you relax, you know. In fact, it's my pleasure."

"Mine as well." Arthur giggled and sat up. The stuffy dress shirt had slid off his shoulders, exposing slender arms and alabaster skin, only occasionally broken by some old, faded wound. Francis was nonetheless pleased. His hand slid towards the back of Arthur's trousers. Arthur took his cue and undid the button, letting Francis tug them away.

"My my…" Francis caught himself smirking. He cupped his had around Arthur's rear. "You've been holding out on me, I didn't expect someone so thin to be so soft-bodied."

"Hush!" Arthur swatted at him, but his smile betrayed him. "Y-you haven't undressed yourself at all yet… you're still wearing your dinner clothes."

"Oh, so I am." Francis sat up. The buttons on his shirt were smaller, like little pearls, and while the wait was like torture Arthur found it was worth it; Francis had a physique that Arthur had only ever seen in sculptures before, every curve and crevice of muscle perfectly sculpted. He did nothing to keep himself from staring.

"So who's been holding out on who again?" he murmured. Francis glanced down at himself with a grin, but said nothing. He started on his own trousers. Again, Arthur had no trouble letting his eyes wander to rather shameful places.

"A-and you really said I'm the one who's holding out on you?" Francis dropped his and Arthur's clothes off the side of the bed. The Queen looked equal parts surprised and impressed. Francis only laughed.

"Not for much longer I won't be." He replied, reaching for the little vial of oil on the bedside table. "You're certain you still want to do this Arthur? I don't want you to regret this later…" Arthur frowned, but he did take the moment to think. He adored Francis, he was certain he did, but some small part of him was insisting that this was sort of wrong. After all, this was like a betrayal of his country, and his King…

"I'm certain." Arthur shoved all thoughts of his own King from his head. "Although, um… I have to warn you, this is the first time I've actually done this…" He bit his lip.

"What, really?" Francis frowned. "You didn't have to consummate after the wedding ceremony?"

"I-" Arthur stopped. He had completely forgotten about that.

I hadn't. It was a lot of fun on my end, the boy King was as much a virgin as you are Arthur…

"I-I'm not sure I really counted that…" Arthur lowered his head. "I mean, we did, a-and it wasn't bad… it wasn't awful, b-but that wasn't exactly… consensual."

"Ah, I see." Francis seemed to cringe. "You poor thing, I detest those traditions of Spades... I'll do all I can to make sure you enjoy yourself tonight." He put on a smile and leant in to steal a kiss off of Arthur's lips. "Let me know if I can make you more comfortable." Arthur sat speechless, eyes wide open even through the duration of the kiss. He looked at Francis when he pulled away.

"Thank you." Arthur smiled meekly.

"Don't thank me." Francis tucked a finger into Arthur's underwear and slipped them away. "It's the least I can do for the one I love…"

/ \

Arthur cried out, digging his fingers into the silky bed sheets. Francis had one of his legs over his shoulder. His hands gripped Arthur's hips, and his nails dug slightly into his skin. Arthur wouldn't complain though. After all, he was practically clawing at Francis just so he could keep his grip.

"F-Francis!" He screamed his name. He could feel Francis inside him, ramming the one little spot that always made him see stars. He was relentless once they got started, and Arthur only egged him on. "Yes, oh god yes, h-harder Francis, harder!"

"O-oui!" Francis grunted, replacing his grip back on Arthur's hips. Arthur knew that he wouldn't be able to last much longer. Francis was good at making him feel amazing, and the pleasure was steadily filling him up like a glass about to overflow.

"Yes, yes, right there! Francis, oh~ O-oh my god, Francis, I-I'm going to-" Arthur sucked in a gasp, his mouth gaping open in a silent scream of utter bliss. He felt like he had just exploded, and the sticky fluid across his stomach made him feel he had. Francis pulled out just as he had started to catch his breath, spreading the warmth lower on Arthur's body.

"Je suis désolé…" he murmured, struggling to catch his own breath. Arthur let himself go limp against the bed. He reveled in his afterglow, listening to the little sounds Francis made as he moved about the bed. Something touched his stomach and he cracked an eye open, only to find Francis wiping him down with a handkerchief. "It seems that we, ah… made a bit of a mess." He laughed, and Arthur found himself laughing with him.

"Yes…" Arthur sighed and rest his head back against the sheets. "But it was worth it… y-you were just great Francis, just… absolutely fantastic."

"Merci beaucoup." Francis dropped the soiled cloth onto the bedside table. "I'm glad the feeling was mutual. You were so vocal, it was heavenly, I just adored hearing you say my name like that." He pulled the heavy covers up and tucked himself and Arthur underneath, letting him cuddle right up. Again Arthur let himself be blind to whatever Francis was doing. He didn't care much anymore, so long as Francis stayed there and let him stay close, but he did open one eye when he caught the soft scent of smoke.

"Wh-what is that?" He frowned. Francis glanced over, plucking a cigarette from his lips and blew a puff of smoke in the opposite direction.

"I like to have one afterwards, helps me unwind… would you like to try?" Arthur watched the little tendril of smoke rising from the end, and the fading cloud Francis left in the air.

"I suppose there's no harm in it." He heaved himself up against the pillows. Francis held it to his lips. Arthur helped himself to a drag. His eyes flew wide open and he shoved Francis's hand away, coughing like mad.

"You aren't supposed to suck it in like that you know." Francis snickered. He gave Arthur a moment or two to cough it all out before he took another drag and snuffed it out in a little glass dish. "It's a beginner's mistake, you'll learn in time…"

"N-not sure I'm going to give myself time…" Arthur gave a few final hacking coughs before he laid back down, thoroughly shaken by the experience. "That tasted awful, how can you stand those things? Ugh…" He scooped up a bit of the blanket to cover his nose. Francis shrugged and wrapped an arm around him.

"You sort of stop thinking about the taste." He muttered. "It's not the sort of thing you do for the taste anyway. You do it to wash the taste of the world out of your mouth… you'll understand someday."

"I don't think I will." Arthur crinkled his nose, though it was still hidden beneath the blankets. Francis just smiled and rolled over to face him.

"That's alright." He yawned and draped an arm over Arthur. "Let's not think of it now… it's time to rest. I'm sure you're tired, and I know I will be if I don't get some sleep tonight." He buried his face into the crook of Arthur's neck. Arthur reached back around for a sort of hug.

"What, no goodnight kiss?" he mumbled. Francis said nothing, only heaving himself up and leaning around to kiss Arthur. It was a little victory, at least until that awful taste settled on his lips. "Ugh, y-you taste like the smoke…" Francis chuckled.

"Je suis désolé, mon ange…" he whispered. "Just one on the cheek then." He placed another kiss to Arthur's cheek and laid back down. "Je t'aime Arthur…"

"…I love you Francis." Arthur mumbled, rolling over to face him. Francis only muttered some small response before he fell silent. Arthur shut his eyes and, within a few minutes, he too drifted off to sleep.

\ /

Arthur took his time rousing himself from sleep in the morning. The bed was warm, the covers were soft, and he was lying in just such a position that he was perfectly comfortable. He only cracked his eye open to see if Francis was still asleep. If he was, Arthur couldn't tell; Francis was gone. He sat straight up, holding the covers in place to cover his body. Francis stood a few feet from the foot of the bed. He looked back when Arthur sat up.

"Bonjour Arthur." He grinned. By the looks of it, he was about half-dressed. "I'm sorry if I woke you. I had intended to leave earlier, but you just looked so peaceful."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Arthur didn't even try to smile. He clutched the blankets in his hands. "Why do you have to leave, wh-where are you going?" Francis looked surprised.

"I've got work to do." He took a seat at the foot of the bed to pull on his stockings. "The festival is over, all of my guests are going home. I've got business to attend to, people to see, letters to go through…" Arthur blinked, reaching over the side of the bed for his own things.

"I've got to come with you then."

"Absolutely not!" Francis looked taken aback.

"Why?"

"Why?!" Arthur looked up. Horror shone through Francis's normally calm features, but he was quick to hide it. He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a sigh. "Why… Arthur, I'm the King of Diamonds."

"Yes."

"And you're the Queen of Spades."

"All the more reason I should come with you!"

"Arthur, no, you don't understand." Francis struggled to fight back a scowl. "Even though you are my guest, and I adore having you here, our countries are still sworn enemies. For all we know, this could all be some… elaborate feat of espionage or something." Now Arthur was the one stricken with horror.

"Francis, I would never-"

"I know you would never do that." Francis was quick to cut him short. "I know, and I trust you, but my people do not. To them, you aren't my sweet and lovely Arthur; you're the Queen of their most loathsome enemy. The fact that you're even here might not sit well with them." Arthur lowered his head, withering where he sat. Of course, he was still in the country of his enemies.

"R-right…" he mumbled. "I-I'm sorry… I suppose I just forgot about that, h-how our countries don't get along…" How could he think about that? It had been a long time since he had been in Spades, and he never had learned much about its political history. He heard Francis sigh and within a moment there was a hand on his shoulder, and another tilting up his chin.

"As long as you are here, you are my guest." He said softly. "I will find somewhere for you to stay until my work is done, but you cannot come with me to the court. My country must come first."

"I understand." Arthur forced a small smile. "I-I'm sure there's something else I can do today… have you got a library, perhaps? I could occupy myself there for hours."

"No." Arthur's smile dropped, but Francis had on a small grin. "I know where you can go. I'll introduce you to somebody… ah, you'll have to get dressed first." Arthur looked down. Of course, he was still buck-naked. He scrambled to scrape together his clothing and dress himself, his face flushed pink.

Within a few minutes they had left the little room for the hallway. Francis had long since learned his way around the labyrinth of halls that made up the palace. Arthur let his eyes wander about the paintings again, taking each one in as if it were a window to a more beautiful place.

"How can you stand to live surrounded by art without stopping to look at every piece?" Arthur murmured caught up on a particularly nice piece overlooking a cottage by the sea. It reminded him of his old home.

"I don't see how people in Spades can stand to live not surrounded by art." Francis chuckled and pulled Arthur along. "We've got lots of artists from Diamonds here, and some even from Clubs. Admittedly it was mostly me and the previous Queen who bought up most of this art."

"Really?" Arthur jogged a bit to catch up. "You got to meet the previous Queen of Diamonds? Who was she, what was she like?" Francis looked back at him. He slowed down a little for Arthur to catch up, but he didn't stop until they reached one portrait in particular.

"Here she is." He smiled up at it. The painting featured a beautiful young woman with rosy lips and caramel curls that framed her face. Her green eyes seemed to rest on some distant, unseen wonder, and something truly wonderful it must have been to make a woman like herself smile. "Her name was Elise the First… she let me call her Lisa when I was younger, but in her last few years I took to calling her 'miss'. I don't think she liked it very much." Francis took a few steps closer to the painting and ran his fingers along the edge of its frame. Not a single speck of dust coated its surface.

"What happened to her?" Arthur was still staring at her face. If he didn't know better he might have hoped to catch her eye and earn himself a smile. "She looks so young, not much younger than you really."

"Younger than me?" Francis looked back at him, eyebrows raised. "She was several years older than me actually. I believe that she was about twenty when I was brought here to the palace, at around the time this was painted."

"How old were you then?"

"Oh, I was about six years old."

"Six years old?!" Arthur nearly shouted. "They let you take the throne when you were six years old?!" Francis grinned.

"She and the Jack at the time took care of the work for me. I don't think anyone expected me to be so young, but I don't think they cared much about my age. They were so desperate to fill the position of King that they nearly forgot to tell my parents that they were taking me."

"What?" Arthur frowned and stood at Francis's side. "How could they do that? Tell me, will you?"

"It's not the most exciting story, but if you insist." Francis placed his arm around Arthur's shoulders. "It was a long time ago, seventeen years ago, in the summertime…"

/ \

A young Francis lay in the back of a cart bound for the city, staring upwards at the great gate as it passed over his head. He waved to the guards around and on top of it, and to his delight one of them waved back. He sat up and looked around. The streets were lined with shops that sold all sorts of things, from pretty dresses to toys to sweets to other things he had never seen before. Children played in the streets, some reined in by their parents, playing with toys or chasing each other, or in some lucky cases a small dog or other pet. Francis sat up on his knees to get a better look.

"Francis, s'asseoir." His father called to him from the driver's seat. Francis pouted but, as his father told him, flounced back down into the cart.

"Oui papa." he mumbled. He didn't exactly enjoy being cooped up in the back of the cart for hours and hours, but it was preferable to walking. He scooted up to the side of the cart and leaned on it, arms crossed under his head. There really wasn't much for him to do at the market. He couldn't go far, his father wouldn't let him, and while plenty of the merchants had children most of them were old enough to help run the stands. He only came because his mother didn't want him underfoot around the house. He huffed a sigh and stared around the bustling streets. They rounded a few corners, even going through the town square. At its center, rather than some tent or table belonging to the palace, a pedestal sat. He couldn't tell what was on it from so far away, but whatever it was it gleamed in the sunlight, and a few people were watching those brave enough to approach it. They would always withdraw their hands afterwards, spouting words that Francis had never heard before save for when his father got angry at one of the tools. He giggled and stood to watch another man step forward towards the pedestal, only to hurry away, cursing and clutching his hand.

"Francis, s'asseoir!" His father had raised his voice. Again Francis sat, more reluctant than before.

"Oui papa…" he muttered. The sparkling object still beckoned to him though. They weren't far from the next street corner before he had made his decision; he had to find out what it was. When his father was next distracted he leapt from the cart, across the road, and into the square. It wasn't hard to slip past the people surrounding the pedestal, though there did seem to be a line. Without a moment's hesitation he reached up and snatched the odd little object off of the pedestal. People around him gasped in surprise but he barely listened. He opened his hands and there, sitting between his palms, was a shining golden rose, warmed by the sun enough to heat his fingers. He smiled down at it, and his face reflected on each petal. Suddenly the light disappeared. He looked up to find three large palace guards standing around him, cornering him against the pedestal. In that moment, he remembered just how tiny he was, how easily these men could crush him like a grape beneath their iron boots. He gulped, clutching the flower to his chest. "…b-bonjour?" He took a few small steps back. There wasn't anywhere to go. Through the spaces between the men he could see people staring at him but not a one looked like they would help him. How he was going to get out of this, he wasn't sure, but he was sure that he would do it with the rose intact if he could do it; he wanted the rose!

"Qu'est ce c'est?" A new voice spoke up above the others. Francis looked into the crowds, hopeful of what he would see, but it didn't look like anyone had stepped forwards. Something touched his hair and he looked up. It was a woman, at least twice his age. She stood silhouetted against the sun, he could make out a pair of bright eyes fixed down on him, ruby lips tugged down in a small frown, and lightly rouged cheeks. For a moment or two she spoke with the guards. Her words were blocked out by the sweet sound of her voice, like listening to birdsong. When she finished speaking she knelt down to Francis's eye level. Her caramel curls bounced as she moved and the look in her eyes had gone from confused to curious.

"Comment tu t'appelle, mon petit?" she asked. Francis stared, dumbfounded. Whatever he had done to earn her attention must have been truly magnificent, he realized. He glanced down at his hands. The rose caught the light through whatever little cracks and passages it would go. Slowly he held it out, offering it to the woman.

"P-pour vous madame?" He flicked his gaze to the ground. His father had always told him to be kind to ladies. Silence fell over the square for a long moment before the young woman started to laugh. Francis felt her soft hand against his head and he looked up. She was smiling at him, but she didn't take the rose away. She merely stood, speaking again to the guards. To Francis's surprise they stepped back. The people around the square whispered and murmured, pointing to him and his rose. Francis stuck close to the woman's legs, clutching her skirts the way he did his own mother's. A few people cooed over his 'precious' behavior, but this merely prompted him to hide his face in the lacy, pink ruffles. Her cool hand shielded him from their words, harsh or otherwise. Only for her would he look up again.

"Je m'appelle Lisa." She whispered, giving him a smile. Francis stared a moment or two before he dared to speak up.

"J-je m'appelle… Francis." He murmured.

"Francis?" He shivered. Her voice made it sound all the sweeter. "Ah, c'est beau." Francis felt a strange heat rushing to his cheeks. He hid his face again and she laughed, patting him on the head. "We're here…"

"Pardon?"

"I said we're here." Arthur looked around. They had stopped in front of a white door with a bright brass handle. If one looked very close, a small, long-petaled flower was engraved on the knob. "This is where I hope I'll be able to leave you for most of the day."

"What is this, some sort of daycare?" Arthur frowned. Francis shook his head.

"Quite the opposite actually…" He put on a smile. "This is my Queen's bedroom."