Francis and I are in a pool of broken glass and blood, holding onto one another like we're each other's last lifeline. Tears are silently falling down my cheeks as we cradle one another, rocking back and forth. I'm shaking uncontrollably, trying not to break down sobbing. I have to be strong, for Francis's sake. He killed Tomas to save me. His body is wracked with violent tremors and his breath is ragged and short as he buries his face in my shoulder. I'm not even sure who is consoling who anymore; all I know is that I need him and that he needs me. If we're going to get through this, we have to do it together.

Gently, I pull away from our embrace. I reach for Francis, softly holding his face in my hands. He looks down towards his bloodstained, shaking hands. "Francis," I say quietly. "Francis, darling, we should probably wash up before we tell Catherine and Henri what happened." I'm blind with tears and I can tell that Francis is trying to keep his emotions in check…for my sake. Slowly, we rise to our feet and head into the bathroom. Francis wordlessly turns on the water as he scrubs his hands, the blood—Tomas's blood—seeps down the drain. Tears are relentlessly coursing down his cheeks; he furiously shakes his head, leaning against the counter.

"I…I killed him," he chokes. "Jesus Christ, I just—" A harsh sob escapes his chest and he hastily wipes his eyes. "God, Mary. I'm sorry. Tomas hurt you and here I am…" He trails off, chuckling humorlessly. "What are we supposed to tell my parents? And how are we going to avoid a war against Portugal?"

"We'll tell them the truth," I decide. "Francis, they need to know, They need to know about how abusive Tomas was and that you had no choice but to kill him…otherwise he would have killed me, but not before raping me in front of my friends." I dab some concealer on the red marks on my neck from when he was choking me. I grimace in pain.

"Mary, let me do that for you," Francis offers. I nod, giving him the make-up as he applies some of it on his fingers before gently dabbing it on my neck. My neck is crimson from Tomas's force; it hurts just to talk. There is a solemn, heavy silence between us that is filled only by our shaky, teary breaths. I wince as Francis puts the concealer on my black eye.

"I am so sorry that you did what you did in there," I whisper. "I never wanted you or my ladies to get involved. I didn't want any of you to get hurt because of me." Tears streak from my eyes silently. "Why did it have to come to this?"

"He would have killed you," points out Francis. "I couldn't let him hurt you anymore." He caresses my face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "I promised you that I would protect you, Mary." His voice cracks and I wrap my arms around him, enveloping him in another embrace. We are both torn and scarred from this experience; our scars take different shapes and forms, but they have been inflicted upon us all the same.

"Um….what the fuck just happened?" Olivia demands. Francis and I jump apart, startled by Olivia's intrusion. I realize how utterly perplexing this must look; the bedroom floor is covered in broken, bloody glass with Tomas's beaten and battered corpse while Francis and I are in the bathroom, our eyes red from crying. "What's going on here?"

"Can you send for the king and queen, please?" I ask quickly. "Look, Olivia, it's a really long story…but can you just do what I ask?" She opens her mouth to protest before closing it and running off. I take a slow, deep breath; my hands are quivering. Francis takes my hand in his, our fingers interlacing with one another.

We can make it through this. Together.


"Oh my god, what happened here?" Catherine exclaims as she and Henri burst into the room. Francis and I walk out of the bathroom, keeping our fingers still interweaved with one another, silently supporting one another. She kneels at Tomas's body, examining it.

"Tomas is dead, Catherine," says Henri bluntly, "and Francis and Mary are at the scene. Son, can you tell us what happened here and why the son of the king of Portugal is lying dead with a shard of glass in his heart?" I glance towards Francis; he hesitates for a moment. I squeeze his hand in reassurance, encouraging him. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words are unable to come.

"He…killed Tomas," I blurt. "Tomas was…abusive towards me; he nearly killed me. Francis saved my life. He did what he had to do." Even as I say the words, everything feels surreal as if this is an out of body experience. Henri stares at us in shock.

"You do realize that this could mean war with Portugal," he points out angrily. "If we tell the Portuguese king that Francis killed his son—"

"Henri!" Catherine snaps. "Not now. Clean up this room and remove the body; we'll come up with a story." She approaches me and Francis slowly, her eyes soft and concerned. "Come with me to my chambers. We can discuss this matter there."


"Are you cold at all?" asks Catherine once we enter her rooms. Francis and I sit down on the couch. She meets our eyes before she sits across from us.

"I can't stop shaking," Francis tells her. "Why is it so cold?" I rub his arm consolingly, resting my head on his shoulder. I'm shaking as well, and his presence is the one thing keeping me from losing it.

"It's the shock from tonight's events," his mother answers. "There's a blanket on top of the couch, behind you." As Francis reaches for the blanket, wrapping it around us, she watches us pitifully. I snuggle close to him, holding his hand. "Francis, Mary. I realize that you've both been put through a terrible ordeal and I don't want you to go through this alone. I suspected that Tomas had ulterior motives for wanting to marry Mary from the beginning, but—"

"You pushed me towards him right when he proposed marrying me, Catherine," I remind her sharply. "A cruel and abusive man who could have killed me! Do you realize that at all?" Rage boils in my veins. Does Catherine really want me dead? Do I really pose that much of a threat to Francis, in whatever way that I just can't understand? "It seemed like a pretty easy way to get rid of me by throwing me into an abusive engagement, don't you agree?"

"Mary, I truly had no idea of what a monster he was," she says. "I swear, on my immortal soul, that I knew nothing of his true nature." She sighs heavily. "And even if I did, what good came out of this situation? Tomas is dead and he has hurt you and my son in ways unimaginable. You and Henri can talk about possibly renegotiating marriage treaties between France and Scotland another time. Now is not the time for politics. Tomas abused you, Mary. No woman can just bounce back from that; I wouldn't wish this on anyone…not even my future daughter-in-law. I may be a queen, but there are some things that I wouldn't dare wish upon my enemies. I am familiar with the pain you must be feeling and it is something no woman should feel. And Francis, I am acquainted with the shock and horror of killing a man for the first time. I am very much familiar with what you're going through right now…and it pains me to see it." Francis nods wordlessly, tears running down his cheeks. I plant a comforting kiss on his shoulder and he draws me closer to him, if possible.

"So, what happens now?" Francis asks.

"You and Mary can rest here for the night," his mother answers. "Your father and I need to make sure that the truth of what happened doesn't reach Portugal." She kisses his hair and he briefly pulls away from me as she holds him in her arms. "I promise you, Francis, that you won't go through this alone." Catherine winds her hand through his curls on the back of his head, cradling him, for several long moments. "Are you going to be okay for a while?"

Francis nods as his mother breaks their embrace. She is reluctant to leave him, I know, as she holds onto him for a little bit longer. Whether or not she's reluctant to leave him alone with me or if she's reluctant to leave him after the trauma of tonight's events, I'm not entirely certain. I turn towards him, circling small circles on his hand with my thumb.

"Are you really going to be okay, Francis?" I murmur.

"…Honestly? No," he says frankly, "but as long as you're here with me, I know I'll be okay." He manages a weak smile. "We should get some rest, Mary." I nod in agreement, but not before gently kissing him. Francis reclines across the couch, opening his arms for me. I climb atop of him, resting my head just above his heart as he envelops his arms around me. He kisses my hair, holding me close, and lets out a shaky breath. I look up towards him, kissing him softly. I can taste our tears as they mingle together.

"I love you, Francis." I nestle closer to him, rubbing our noses together. "You aren't alone in this, you know. We're in it together."

"I know," he says. "Mary…I know this is probably the least of your concerns at the moment, but I've decided to send Olivia to a private estate away from court. It's best that she spends some time away from us—"

"You mean yourself."

"I can't have her here with us. Not after what's happened," he explains. "It's too much to handle all at once. I'm sure she'll understand." I touch his face gently; he leans into my palm before tenderly kissing it. "She's never going to become my mistress. You know that, right?"

"Of course, I do!" I answer. "Francis, love…we don't have to discuss this right now, okay? I'm glad you told me, but I don't want to think about Olivia. I just want to be here with you."

"You're right," Francis says. "We probably shouldn't be talking about this right now." He rests his head back onto the pillow. "Goodnight, Mary."

"Goodnight, Francis."


My dreams are canvases painted in the art of terror as Tomas screams at me, hits me and terrorizes me. His face morphs into that of Henri's as he shoves me down onto bed, inhaling my scent. Henri's eyes are wild and mad and crazed with bloodlust. I scream and cry and struggle against him as his fingers wrap themselves around my throat, choking the life out of me—and there is nobody who will hear me.

"Mary? Mary! Mary!" The world is suddenly shaking and my eyes fly open. I jolt upright, scrambling from the couch and away from Francis. I'm trembling, hot tears cascading, drenched in a cold sweat. "Mary, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I answer quickly "I just…I just had a nightmare, is all." Francis rises from the couch and takes my hands in his. "He was…beating me and frightening me, but then he turned into your father? I-I can't say that I expected this to be easy, Francis, but even now, knowing that he's dead, he haunts me. I keep on expecting him to find us here together so he could find some excuse to beat me and—"

"Tomas can no longer hurt you," Francis promises me. "You're safe, Mary. I made sure of that when I…when I killed him. I won't let anyone hurt you. Mary, my love, my mother has guards posted outside of these rooms. She is doing everything in her power to ensure our safety."

"I feel like I should have a gun," I confess. "I don't feel safe. I know, it's irrational of me, but…I need to be able to protect myself. I know Tomas is dead, okay? I know you killed him; hell, I was there when you did it, but…"

"I understand. I understand," he assures me. "Mary, I love you and I will do what I can to help you through this, okay?"

I nod. "Okay," I say. His eyes are concerned, but I can see the ghosts from his actions lurking behind them. "Francis, I meant what I said earlier…about us being in this together. I want to support you as you've been supporting me."

"I know you did…but, Mary, I'll be fine. Really, I'll be fine," Francis insists. "This isn't about me. Tomas hurt you in a way no man should hurt a woman."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" I ask again.

"Yes, Mary, I'm sure," he swears. I stare at him for a few moments before I embrace him, brushing my hand through his curls.

You're not okay, Francis…and neither am I.