In my downtime, have been studying poems again. I haven't done this in about four years so it's amazing, finding little pieces of myself back. Studying this particular branch of science university gets tiring and difficult, but English helps greatly. This helps too and so do all of you.

Also, since exams are over and I've kept this and ATEOTB from you, here's a long chapter which was originally two separate ones. As for ATEOTB, I'm still working around the chapter I have as it's got more Frary tension. Don't hate me, haha!

And finally, just want to say, Mizzswan, praying for your mum. The Reign fandom are all supportive and wonderful and we have your back always!

Quote of the chapter: "To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." – Oscar Wilde.


Mary woke up, belly full of chocolate cake and unborn child and handsome husband fast asleep beside her. She smiled, snuggling into his side and sighing wistfully when he wrapped an arm around her automatically.

"Merry Christmas, beautiful wife of mine," Francis mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss onto her forehead.

Mary smiled even more. "Merry Christmas, handsome husband of mine," she replied. "Think about it, next Christmas we'll be celebrating our baby's first one."

Francis grinned. "What a beautiful thought," he replied. "Breakfast will be in about..." He checked the clock. "Two hours. What do you want to do until then?"

Mary laughed, kissing his bare chest. "What do you think?"

"Ooh, someone didn't think last afternoon, evening or night was enough," Francis replied. "I think I like you being pregnant."

"Because you can get sex whenever you want now because people will understand that the pregnant woman's sex drive is up and running permanently?" Mary asked, giggling.

"Well, the looks the staff give us are boosting my ego," Francis muttered lightly, kissing her shoulder. "Glad to be of service."

"Ready to be of use again?"

Francis flipped her onto her back, pressing his lips against hers before saying, "All the time."

...

Marie raised her eyebrows as she watched Mary enter the dining hall, fixing her hair. It was a private Christmas breakfast with her, Mary, Lola and Greer, the table quieter now with Kenna gone.

"Have you heard from Kenna?" She asked her daughter. "Because your mood is in high spirits."

Mary blushed furiously. "No, I haven't," she admitted. "Uh, just woke up on the right side of the bed."

"We all know what that means," Greer said, smirking. "You prefer the left always."

Lola snorted. "Husband did you well then?"

"Ladies!" Mary cried out, sitting down. "Combined, you're worse than Kenna. Not that she's answering my calls..."

Greer's face fell. "She isn't answering our calls either. I spoke to her parents before they left for Scotland, they said that she was fine - she sent them a text."

Mary rubbed her face. "As if she couldn't be more embarrassed," she mumbled. "And that article made things worse."

"Princess Elisabeth," Marie began. "Is an attention-seeking petulant child. She is her mother's daughter."

"Aunt Marie!" Lola cried out.

"The King is my dear friend, he doesn't mind if I insult his meaningless spares."

"Mother," Mary said warningly. "Anyway, let's all just move on. Kenna will contact us when she's ready and we'll be there for her when she comes back."

"If she comes back," Greer said. "But you're right."

Mary nodded and grabbed some smoked salmon but her hand was hit by her mother. "Mum!"

"No seafood until after you give birth," Marie said. "We don't want to put anything to chance."

"The in-chateau doctor said smoked fish was fine," Mary replied.

Marie scoffed. "Darling, for me? Please?"

Mary rolled her eyes but nodded with a smile. "Fine. I'll stick to the avocado and toast."

"We are going to spend Christmas lunch with my family," Marie began. "You can invite the Dauphin too if you want, I guess."

Mary giggled. "He's my husband and I'm sure they would be happy to see him," she told her mother. "Apparently, the Christmas dinner is reserved for family only so..."

"Lola and I will be flying out to Scotland," Greer said, squeezing Mary's hand. "We'd be there in time for family dinners!"

Lola nodded. "We will be back by New Year's Day."

Mary smiled. "I'll miss you guys."

"Oh, don't. You get us for pretty much 99% of the year!" Greer said teasingly. "Right, we better finish breakfast and get packing. Oh and try and help the staff with Kenna's things. She bought a lot."

"Well, she did always have a taste for fashion," Mary replied, biting into her toast with a satisfying crunch. "You know what would make this better?"

"What?" Her mother asked.

Mary grinned. "If there were peanut butter and strawberry jam with it."

Her friends gagged.

"Disgusting, Mary!" Greer cried out, sipping her tea.

"I think this baby is doing her more damage than good!" Lola cried out lightly before grabbing the jam jar. "Better hide this before she executes her plan!"

...

Francis watched as Bash checked his phone now and then. Breakfast was awkward, silent except for the clattering of cutlery on the plates and sipping of drinks. Francis swore he could even hear the clock tick beneath all of that.

"Dinner will start at five promptly," Narcisse explained to the family, scrolling through his iPad. "The King's Speech will be at half six. The children will be able to watch their annual Christmas show during that. The Queen will have her prayer service commence at seven until half-past. Mass will begin at eight and end by ten promptly. Then it is back to Fontainebleau where Versailles will be closed for cleaning."

"Thank you, Stephane," Henry's quiet voice came as he waved off his courtier with a heavy sigh and a hand to his forehead.

Everyone was in low moods, Christmas not really feeling like it. Not after yesterday, not after the embarrassment of Elisabeth spilling everything to the press about the wedding. Even a rodent infestation would have been better, at least it would keep the public from wanting to tour the place for a good few weeks to leave Francis and Mary in peace.

Narcisse bowed, walked past Francis and slipped him a note. Francis gave the man a smile as he left and opened up the note to see Mary's handwriting, explaining that he was invited to the de Guises' estate for lunch.

"Lunch, Dad? What are we doing for lunch?" Francis asked. "I noted that Narcisse didn't say anything."

Henry looked up at him. "I have lunch with the Prime Minister and government officials and their families with Catherine," he said. "It is not compulsory for you to be there."

Francis nodded with a smile. "Mary invited me to her family's estate. May I go?"

"If you'd take Louis and the twins, then yes."

Francis's eye twitched. He hoped it wasn't the older girls. "Which twins?"

Henry frowned before realising. "The younger ones. No, the older girls must stay and look for suitable partners at the lunch gathering."

"Really, Dad?" Lissie asked whiningly.

"I really do not want to hear your voice, Elisabeth," Henry snapped.

Lissie sighed. "Yes, Father."

"You better hope that the Duke of Valencia will take a liking to you. His parents are already smitten," Catherine said, making her husband nod.

"I'll wear my best dress," Lissie mumbled, picking her food apart with her fork.

Francis wanted to feel sorry for her, but she put herself into this mess, using her petty arguments to dampen their image. He looked over at Bash who didn't seem fazed about the whole thing.

Bash merely stared at his phone and sighed, taking the plunge and typing out a text.

{To Kenna: We're still married. "A flower knows when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand; but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon when I don't know if you will ever come back." - Sanober Khan.}

His phone buzzed with a simple text.

{From Kenna: Never consummated it.}

{To Kenna: Sure about that? "A man always finds it hard to realize that he may have finally lost a woman's love, however badly he may have treated her." - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.}

She wasn't doing this, not today, he realised.

{From Kenna: Yes. We never had sex as man and wife. Never even went through the whole damn vow part. Remember?}

He winced and it was noticed by a few people around the table, including his father.

{To Kenna: I know. Joyeux Noël.}

{From Kenna: Merry Christmas to you too.}

{To Kenna: Spending it with family?}

{From Kenna: Alone.}

He frowned, he'd hoped that she would be at home in Scotland, surrounded by her friends and family to comfort her but she wasn't and he felt guilty about that. They could have been spending Christmas together after their first night as man and wife, with glasses of champagne and morning kisses.

{To Kenna: Why?}

{From Kenna: Why do you care?}

{To Kenna: Where are you?}

He was going to get her, to explain and try and help her move on. To show her that he wasn't doing this to hurt her, but to keep himself protected. He wasn't ready yet or he wasn't sure if he would ever be but that didn't mean he didn't care about the woman he ditched at the altar.

{From Kenna: Somewhere.}

{To Kenna: Are you safe?}

{From Kenna: I am.}

He tried her mobile, excusing himself from the breakfast table and leaving. The phone kept ringing out and he figured that she was staring at it or ignoring it because he knew her. He knew she was right by the bloody thing, letting him try her over and over again.

{To Kenna: Why don't you answer your phone?}

She replied with an honest: {From Kenna: Because I will scream and I don't want to disturb the lovely people around me.}

He felt like shit.

{To Kenna: Why would you scream?}

He knew the answer. She looked like she was going to when he kept stalling.

{From Kenna: Do you really have to ask?}

Bitterness laced with her words and he hoped that she wasn't about to do something stupid.

{To Kenna: Do you forgive me?}

{From Kenna: We'll see.}

{To Kenna: What does that mean?}

He cursed when she stopped replying. Just as he was about to call Miranda or Max to find her, he received another text.

{From Kenna: "If you truly want to be respected by people you love, you must prove to them that you can survive without them." - Michael Bassey Johnson.}

Bash smiled sadly. She did it. He sighed in relief and realised that she was going to be okay. That she didn't need him protecting her, not whilst she gave him her heart and he took it with nothing to give back.

He put his phone away and turned around, heading back into the dining hall for another thirty minutes or so of complete silence from everyone.

...

Mary winced and in a flash, her mother, Greer and Lola surrounded her, asking her what was wrong. She let out a laugh and shooed them off, readjusting herself on her seat.

"I slept awkwardly," she said. "Well, because, Francis and I..."

"Oh," Lola said, blushing as Mary did the same.

"What did you and Francis do?" Her mother asked coyly.

Greer gasped. "Aunt Marie!"

"We're all adults here," Marie said with a chuckle. "I was young once, you know?"

Mary faltered. "But you haven't had sex in almost twenty-one years, surely you can't know some sex positions?"

Marie gave her daughter an incredulous look. "I'll have you know that I've been satisfied by a few men over the years. I wasn't going to be celibate for the rest of my life because my husband died!"

"Oh," Mary mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Marie replied, smiling anyway. "Although I do believe you young people are so agile and flexible these days, you could have endless choices."

Mary nodded. "Francis wanted to try one in particular. In preparation for me getting bigger with our little bundle of joy, but I really hated it and I don't think we'll be trying that one again, pregnant or not."

"Well, as I always say, missionary is the way to go," her mother replied.

"Boring," Greer muttered.

"Well, what's boring about a romantic act of love?" Marie asked the women. "You both can see each other and all your problems melt away at that moment when you and your husband are joined as one. The way God intended."

Lola giggled, feeling uncomfortable about the conversation. "So Biblical."

"We are Catholics, Lola dear," Marie replied. "Right, hurry along, Mary. It's a long drive to the estate, and I believe you and your husband will more than certainly take your time to get dressed this morning."

Mary grinned, getting up from her seat with some pastries on her plate. "Barely had enough to eat and you're rushing me out."

"Well, it's not my fault your husband couldn't keep his hands off you," Marie said. "You're turning up late to all your meals."

"Well, it's the festive season," Mary told them with a wink before she left.

But she knew it became a thing the minute she married Francis and she didn't regret it one bit.

...

"Woah!" Henrietta breathed out, eyes wide as she stared at the large house coming into frame.

Louis and Emone joined at the window, making Mary and Francis chuckle. Even Marie raised her eyebrows in amusement as the car finally came to a stop in front of the front doors. Francis got out first, helping Marie and then Mary before the children scrambled out themselves, excitedly going to the fountains, hedge pieces and other works of art around the front driveway.

"Valois children, welcome to the Guise Estate," Marie announced, flipping her faux fur scarf over her shoulder before fixing her clutch and heading to the doors that were opened by the doormen.

"It's beautiful," Emone shyly told Mary before taking her hand.

Mary grinned, taking Louis's hand as well as Francis directed Henrietta in. It was quite the sight, the children in awe of the mansion. One day, she and Francis would be coming here for short trips with their own children.

"Christian," Marie greeted her brother, kissing each other's cheeks. "You remember Francis and his youngest siblings, Louis, Henrietta and Emone."

Christian nodded, smiling at the princes and princesses. "When we heard there were three children coming, I had people retrieve presents for our guests. It's been a long while since we hosted princes and princesses."

Mary let go of the children's hands, coming forward to hug her uncle tightly. "And what about me, Uncle Christian?"

"Who can forget my favourite niece?" He asked, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. "How is the baby?"

"Baby is doing fine," Francis said, coming forward to shake the man's hand.

Christian beamed. "Well, the staff will take your coats and show you to the dining room. I have a few matters to attend to but my siblings are around with their families."

After getting settled into a conversation with her mother's sisters - they hadn't seen each other since Mary was born apparently - Mary couldn't help but stare at her husband interacting with his siblings and the other children around.

Lunch hadn't begun yet, her stomach growling much to the females around her's amusement, but Mary didn't mind. She wanted to watch Francis play with the children and be very unprincely for once. He was taught to not swear, to keep his back straight, to follow his father's lead and example. He was taught not to smile too much or wave too much, to be polite and guarded, to keep a distance between him and the public, even if there was an excited child who wanted to get their wish and shake the hand of a royal person.

Now, he was all over the ground as the children piled on top of him, the 'big scary monster'.

"You chose a good one," her Aunt Louise told her.

Mary grinned. "I did, didn't I? Even if it was my father's decision."

Aunt Renée cackled, sipping her wine. "It was the King's decision if your mother remembers correctly."

Marie looked up. "Well, James didn't complain," she said quietly. "It worked out, that counts."

"It does," Christian said, entering the room. "Ladies, gentlemen, children..." He eyed the giggling children. "Lunch is ready."

Francis turned to Mary as they ate. "I never knew your mother had so many siblings."

"Jealous she has more than you?" Mary teased him. "There's twelve of them. Well was. One died in infanthood but they still light a candle for him. Uncle Christian is the eldest son and my mother is the eldest overall. There are two Francises."

"Francis is a popular name in France," Francis said with a grin. "And it's coming back into fashion so... just throwing ideas out there."

"Shut up," Mary said lightly as she grinned back.

"Who are the ones called Francis?"

"Uncle Christian but he goes by his middle name 'Christian' because he was your father's right-hand man for a while. It would have been confusing to refer to you or my uncle," she explained. "And the youngest son, he's not here. So there's Francis Christian and Francis Guillaume. The different version of William."

Francis nodded slowly, taking it in. "William is a nice name for a baby."

"Are we seriously considering this within earshot of my family?"

He nodded, winking at her. "We'd like their options."

"If they had it their way, we'd never break the cycle!" Mary laughed. "Maries, Francises, Henrys, Jameses! It would never stop and we wouldn't be original."

"Why knock something that works?" Francis replied coyly.

Mary snorted. "We'll think about it."

"When are you due, niece?" Mary's Uncle Philip asked.

Mary blushed. "Summer."

"Oh, my sweet summer child," Philip began much to his siblings' annoyances.

Francis laughed, turning to Mary. "What's going on?"

"Did I not say? Uncle Phil's a Game of Thrones superfan," Mary muttered.

"What do you know of fear?" Philip continued.

"Dear Lord," Christian muttered. "Cut it off, Phil!"

Philip scowled. "Well, you are not the author of this family. It is good that authors support each other-"

"You're not an author," Marie cut him off. "You're a poet."

Philip faltered. "I am working on my manuscript, I'll have you know. And it is dedicated to our little princess, Marie."

Mary awed. "Thanks, Uncle Phil."

"I'll make sure it has a lot of blood and gore just for you. I remember your taste for psychotic thrillers," Philip promised her before continuing to eat, making his wife incredulous.

"I won't expect anything less from you, Uncle Phil," Mary replied, chuckling before lowering her voice for Francis. "Did I tell you that my mother's family are all eccentrics?"

Francis chuckled. "Now, I know why you're more Scottish than French."

...

"How was lunch?" Henry asked as he, Bash and Francis got ready for dinner at the in-chateau boutique. Red suit jackets, black dress pants, the works.

Francis turned to his father, making the seamstress tut. "Sorry," he mumbled, fixing his gaze forward again. "It was great, Dad. Mary's family were really welcoming."

"That's good," Henry replied. "Was Christian there?"

"Yes," Francis said. "And most of the Duchess's siblings."

"The children enjoyed themselves."

Francis smiled. "There were other children there. Uncle Christian made sure to gift them presents."

"They will go to charity. Your siblings are too spoilt already," Henry replied with a sigh.

"Of course," Francis mumbled. "I was wondering if I could sit in your King's Speech?"

Henry raised his eyebrows. "You have always tried to run whenever I asked."

"This year's different, Dad," Francis told him. "I'm a husband and by the new year, I will be a father. I need to take my responsibilities seriously."

"Shame your older brother doesn't think he needs to as well," Henry muttered.

Bash gave him the side-eye. "Well, if you hadn't kept me a secret for over two decades and forced me to marry before I wanted to, we wouldn't be here."

"You came to me proposing marriage, not the other way around," Henry replied easily, stepping down from the pedestal to check his outfit out. "Good job, ladies. Take the rest of the week off."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the women said before finishing up with Francis and Bash before leaving.

Henry turned back to Bash, arms crossed. "Marquise Olivia."

"What about her?" Bash asked, sharing a wary glance with his brother.

"Why not marry her?"

"Because she used me and dated Francis for a year or so?"

Henry sighed. "The Comtessa de Verona, Delphine Martineau. She was your playmate as children."

"She's five years older than me," Bash began. "And we didn't part on good terms."

"Well, fix those terms and court her. Immediately," Henry replied, starting to head towards the door. "You never were smart when it came to sex."

"What about Lady Penelope?" Bash proposed.

Henry froze. "I'm sorry?"

"Lady Penelope is around a lot. Her parents intend for her to get married soon, and we know each other," Bash said. "Very well, actually."

"Lady Penelope's off-limits," Henry snapped.

"Why?" Francis asked, frowning. "She's always flirted a little with Bash. What if they-"

"Lady Penelope is not available," Henry cut his son off. "Stay away from her-"

"Well, you've just confirmed my suspicions," Bash said. "I hope she's worth your marriage and crown. Sleeping with her may just lead to more than that article about you and Kenna getting out. All the women you've ever set eyes upon will ignore their worthless NDAs and destroy you. There won't be any fixing for that."

He left the room and Henry sighed, turning to Francis.

"Not a word."

"Yes, Father," Francis mumbled. "But you do know what this could do?"

Henry glared at him. "Who's the parent here?"

"You," Francis stated. "Not that you act like it most of the time."

He walked out the room, sighing heavily as he caught up to Bash.

"I'm going to Sweden," Bash announced as they headed downstairs.

Francis frowned, turning to him. "Why?"

"I made a mistake. Maybe this wasn't the life I wanted after all. I mean, I went twenty-three years in peace and no drama whatsoever but now... I just need some time to myself, to rethink about things," Bash replied. "To... decide things for my self."

"I see. Will you be leaving soon?"

"Yes."

"Do what you have to do then," Francis told him. "I will support you."

Bash gave his brother a smile. "Thank you."

"What about dinner?"

"I will leave after Mass," Bash replied. "I'm happy for you, by the way."

Francis blushed. "How?"

"You're mature. There's a sense of authority and sensibility around you," Bash explained. "I'm proud of you."

Francis grinned, nudging his brother's shoulder. "It means a lot, hearing you say that. God forbid Dad ever mutters those words."

"He's hot and cold. When he's happy with us, he's really a good father but sometimes, he lets the stress of being a king overshadow the joy his children bring."

"I don't want to be like that," Francis said nervously. "Favour my duty to France over my child."

Bash shrugged. "A king or queen has their burdens. The beacons of their kingdoms, but no one knows what they sacrifice to make the big decisions."

"But I'll have everyone supporting me, including you."

"I will always support you, Francis," Bash told him. "You're my little brother."

"Thanks, big brother," Francis mumbled with a smile. "You know what? Maybe Mary and I should have another kid straight away. They'd be the best of friends... Just like us."

...

"No," Mary said after dinner as they walked to Henry's cabinet for the King's Speech. They were just observing but Francis would be learning. "We are not having another child straight after this one."

"Oh, come on, love!" Francis said. "It makes things easier and having them back to back means that we'll be able to rest instead of doing it all over again down the line."

Mary shook her head. "And what about my body? What about the whole mess of hormones that I'll have to suffer for supposedly two years? This baby is enough as it is and they're not even born yet!"

"Can we please discuss this fully later on, at least?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said just as they reached the cabinet. "I'll think about it. Now, is this live?"

"It always is," Francis affirmed. "We can't talk nor distract him. He normally only has Narcisse operating the prompter in front of him that has his speech written on it and his publicist, the cameraman and his assistant."

"Alright," Mary said, eyeing the door. "Perhaps I should wait."

Francis smiled. "Nervous?"

"No more than you are," she mumbled. "I used to watch these religiously because of my mother."

"It does get tedious but Father manages to bear with it," Francis told her. "Maybe you should go and rest before Mass instead?"

Mary nodded, planting a kiss on his lips. "See you soon?"

"Definitely," Francis said.

He watched as Mary disappeared around the corner, Michel following after her. He entered his father's cabinet and found him slow sipping on some Whiskey as Narcisse and the cameramen spoke.

"Cinq minutes, Your Majesty," Narcisse said.

Henry nodded and turned to Francis. "Behind the camera."

Francis sat down beside the publicist and she sent him a warm smile before focusing on her work. Narcisse took his other side and held up the prompter on the tablet as the cameraman began filming but didn't put it live.

"I need to fix the lighting in this room..." The cameraman muttered, his assistant getting right onto that. "Trois minutes."

When it was finally time, Henry turned to the camera and smiled brightly, a completely new facade taking over his face. Francis studied him, leaning back in his seat with his forefinger and thumb to his chin.

"Joyeux Noël!" Henry began, continuing his speech in French. "This year has been a really fulfilling year for us all, politically wise, economically wise and socially wise. This year, the family welcomed Duchess Marie back to the family along with her daughter, the Dauphine of France, Marie Josephine who married my son, the Dauphin of France, François..."

...

Mary sighed wistfully, pulling the duvet up to her waist. "I'm so glad today's over. The last thing I needed was churchgoers from Mass congratulating us on our incoming arrival every two minutes."

"Got to love the public," Francis said, slipping his shirt on and getting into bed. "How are you feeling?"

Mary shrugged, laying down. "Tired. Today was too long."

"Get used to it, we do this every Christmas," Francis replied. "At least we have lunch for a break."

Mary tutted, bringing a hand to her head. "Some Christmases, we can spend in Scotland. Just us and the baby or kids down the line."

"Have you... thought any more about having another child so quickly?"

Mary sat up. "We've barely had time as us as it is," she said. "Once this baby's out, we'd be all over it and barely have time to be Mary and Francis."

Francis sighed, nodding. "That's true. I'm sorry I was too hasty in getting pregnant."

Mary smiled softly. "It's fine. It's not like I didn't want it-"

"You didn't want kids yet."

"No," she said honestly. "But after finding out I was pregnant and the shock was gone, I knew this was my calling." She placed her hands onto her small bump. "I want to be the mother this child deserves. I want to be involved, understanding, supportive and respectful. My mother did tough-loving with me, but she still had those days when she let her hair down and took me travelling during Summers and it was great, just her and me. That was because my dad wasn't around and she had to do both jobs. I still have some bitter feelings, but I shouldn't because she tried her best. Without her, I wouldn't be here. She could have rejected us marrying each other and I'd be stuck in Scotland for life with a guy I'd probably love less than I love you."

Francis kissed her gently. "We'll leave it up to God to decide then," he whispered. "I promise you that even though we'll be parents, we will still have 'you and me' time."

Mary smiled happily. "Promise?"

"Pinky promise," he said, holding out his pinky finger.

Mary laughed, joining hers with his. "You're such a kid."

"Hey, maybe that's why children love me!"

Mary nodded proudly. "My cousins couldn't get enough of you. Shame we have to be too formal for that."

"We have school visits around Paris mid-January," Francis began. "Perhaps they'll be more lenient and we can play around with the kids. Practice does help us for when we have our own baby."

Mary nodded with a grin, kissing him. "That will be great."

"Good," he said, settling down and turning off his lamp.

She joined him, turning hers off and felt Francis wrap his arms around her body, his hands resting on her bump. He pressed a kiss onto the back of her neck and it made her shiver when he ghosted another one across it, making the hairs on her skin stand.

She took a shaky breath and took one of his hands, leading it down.

"Screw that," he mumbled, pulling her onto her back so he could get on top of her and pull her shirt off. "I love you so much, Mary."

She cupped his cheeks, seeing his blue eyes darken. "I love you so much too," she replied, bringing his head down for a kiss.

...

Mary stood with her mother, watching everyone enjoy the New Year's Eve/Day party. It was past eleven at night, the children still up to celebrate the new year with their older siblings and parents.

"Where's Francis?" Marie asked her daughter, not finding the blonde anywhere. "I thought he'd be all over you."

Mary waved it off. "Calling Bash. Something about security issues that they don't want Henry to know about."

"I see," Marie mumbled. "Have you spoken to Kenna? To wish her a Happy New Year?"

Mary sighed. "I texted her earlier, no reply. I don't know, she wished me that in the voicemail."

"I'm sure she's fine. When she is ready, she will return," Marie replied. "Oh, there's your uncle. He's going to Henry, I'll join them."

Mary nodded and watched as her mother took her time to get to the men. She had her good days and her bad days and she wished her mother didn't indulge in the alcohol, but it was a celebration. A few glasses didn't hurt and her mother never drank for the other days.

Mary felt alone now, Lola and Greer not gracing them with their appearances until tomorrow. Just as she was about to move from her spot to search for a soft drink, Leith and the Vargas flanked her and she laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"There are so many guards here, I don't need you," she told them.

"Whatever you need, tell us," Remy told her.

"We saw Francis leave to answer a call," Julien began. "And we were about to come but our fathers cornered us."

Leith gestured to where a plump man was, speaking to a beautiful blonde older woman. "My parents, everyone. Wanting me to get married since I could speak."

"What do your parents do?" Mary asked curiously. "None of you ever talk about them."

Leith rolled his eyes. "My parents made their money in stocks," he said. "They invested in bakeries all over France - we own thirty now. We also do property development and now the King and my father are in talks of constructing the 'King's Royal Sports Centre' in Calais."

"New money," Mary said, nodding slowly.

"Exactly," Leith replied. "But I make my own money occasionally. The Army was mandatory so I did that. Didn't care about getting paid, I did it because it was for France."

Mary smiled. "That's good."

"Yeah," he said. "Bet you didn't know that I could bake and cook."

"What?"

Remy laughed. "Our boy ran his own bakery by age 15," he said, patting Leith's back. "We called him 'Kitchen Boy'."

Mary grinned. "I'm sure Greer would love that. A man who can cook and bake?"

"Do put in a good word in for me," Leith replied cheekily.

Mary snorted, turning to the twins. "And you?"

"Our father is Marquise Kasper Varga," Julien told her.

"The former Mayor of Paris?"

Remy nodded her way. "We are not close with our father but everyone here fakes their familial relationships..."

"He was never present," Julien explained more. "But we come to events he's at and smile at the people he speaks with and give him the satisfaction of having two successful children. Our sister eloped just to spite him and now, she's a forbidden subject."

"And your mother?" Mary asked cautiously.

Remy scoffed. "The lamb that follows the sheepdog. Elise Varga. She's, uh, an alcoolique."

"I'm so sorry," Mary mumbled, looking over at the men's mother who downed a glass when she thought no one was looking.

"Perhaps I should stop her from seeking another glass," Julien mumbled, going over to lead the woman out.

Mary sighed. "The secrets of the French elite, am I right?" She muttered.

"The things the public do not see or realise," Leith stated. "My parents are lovely, don't get me wrong but my mother used to be..."

"Be what?"

Leith blushed. "A woman of the night."

Mary's eyes widened. "Oh, dear God."

"She did what she had to do to get through university. My father met her one night and was disgusted so helped her by giving her a job at one of his relatives' recruitment companies. She was so grateful, she initiated a relationship," Leith told her. "That fat man wasn't always fat, you know? My mother got him into her bakery plans and together they built an empire."

Mary smiled widely. "That's sweet. Shame it meant losing his waistline."

"Would you believe me if I told you that my father used to have my body?"

"No," Mary replied honestly with a laugh.

"Exactly," Leith said, sighing when his parents waved him over excitedly. "Excuse me."

"Then there was two," Remy said teasingly.

Mary grinned. "Indeed. I'm going to grab a drink. Want one?"

"Whatever you're having."

"It won't be alcoholic."

Remy shrugged. "I'm done with alcohol for now," he said. "New Year's Resolution."

Mary chuckled, shaking her head. "Fair enough. I'll be right back!"

She headed over to the drinks table and scanned her options, finally settling on some tropical juice in a champagne flute. Even the waiters nearby helped her, just in case she chose an alcoholic blend.

"You're so kind, thank you," she told the man and woman, making them blush. "I'm going to need two of these..."

She collected two glasses and just as she was about to head to Remy, she bumped into someone. He quickly held her down in balance and made sure that no liquid got onto them both.

"Uh, thanks," she said, chuckling slightly. "Thank you."

"No problem, Marquise," he replied, reaching behind her to grab a drink for himself before offering her his right hand. "Comte de Condé, Louis Bourbon."

Mary smiled, showing him her filled hands before he realised and retracted his hand. "Bourbon... You're Francis's cousin."

"Distant," Louis said. "Got to keep up appearances."

She chuckled slightly. "Sorry, was miles away - thinking about all the non-alcoholic drinks I could drink."

"Well, congratulations," he said. "If there's anyone who will be a good father, it is Francis. He's a good man."

"Glad you think so," Mary replied with a grin. "He's the best person in the world. Well, according to me. Anyway, I better go, I have a friend who is drinkless."

Louis nodded. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise," Mary said before heading back to Remy.

But she was intersected by Francis who placed a sweet kiss onto her cheek before helping her take one glass from her hand.

"What was that for?" She asked, blushing when people gave them coy smirks.

Francis kept the smile on his face as he said, "Stay away from Louis. He and his brother, Antoine, are trouble."

Mary nodded in understanding. "That's why he said 'distant'," she said.

"Mhm," he hummed as they reached Remy.

"Why was she speaking to Louis?" Remy asked Francis.

Mary frowned. "You know him as well?"

Remy scoffed, taking his drink from Francis. "Know him? Knocked two of my teeth out when we were fifteen."

"His brother is a psychopath," Francis mumbled, turning slightly so no one could lip-read as he spoke to them.

"Yeah," Remy said. "Stalked women, got caught up in numerous rape cases, abused his wife and almost killed her by various different ways - car accidents, pushing her down the stairs, beating her with a bat..."

Mary's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"Duchess de Navarre, Jeanne d'Albret," Francis said. "She was one of the most beautiful women in the social circle until Antoine broke her cheekbone and nose causing her to have four facial reconstructions. She had a lot of plastic surgery after. The divorce was messy, she got custody of their six-year-old son Harold, and no one has heard from her since."

"That's terrible," Mary muttered. "And what about Louis?"

Remy sighed. "Back in school, everyone talked about him being Antoine's brother and he didn't take too well to being compared to that monster. So, he lashed out. We used to try and support him because nobody's family is ever perfect and without flaws, but he more or less spat in our face. That and he was a year above Jules and me so by the time the French Military came calling, he asked his parents to pay the government off so he didn't go. Instead, he dropped out of school and resorted to his brother's ways of sleeping around. At least he respects women, sort of. It's guys he has a problem with because he thinks we'll all judge him for his brother's actions."

"I will no longer extend pleasantries with the Bourbons," Mary said. "Thank you for bringing my attention to that. Perhaps we should extend a helping hand to Jeanne?"

"She lives in Spain and my mother is in contact with her frequently," Francis said. "I'm sure she's fine but we should be respectful of her boundaries."

Mary nodded. "Of course."

Every family had secrets and Francis's distant cousin was not shy of them. She looked up from her drink and saw Louis smile at her. She gave him a terse smile before turning away and kissing Francis who kept his hand protectively on the lower of her back.

"Adorable," Remy stated, smiling as he sipped his drink. "Boy, I can't wait for the New Year to come already. All this schmoozing is tiring me out."

"Says you," Francis replied. "You don't have it as bad as me."

Mary laughed, turning to Francis. "What did Bash want?"

"I helped him send a security team to where he is," Francis explained. "He wouldn't tell me why but he said it was urgent."

"Where is he?"

"Sweden," Francis said.

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Kenna's in Sweden."

"Is she now?" Remy asked, smirking. "Oh, looks like our boy went to find the woman he jilted at the altar."

"I doubt it," Francis said. "He said he needed to think about himself. What being a prince means to him, what being a part of all of this," he gestured around. "Means to him."

Mary pursed her lips. "Well, he better stay away from Kenna. I don't want her hopes to be shattered. She's already radio silence as it is and it's never happened before."

Francis gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure she'll be fine and Bash knows his boundaries. I think returning to the girl you dumped in front of a lot of people will be an arsehole thing to do. Anyway, he's fine and I've sent over the security measures he wanted - all is well and we should be thinking about the new year."

"Oh, the new year," Remy said, laughing slightly. "I aim to put a ring on a woman's finger myself."

"Really?" Mary asked, smiling now. "Is it Lola?"

"We're just getting to know each other, Princess," Remy told her, blushing slightly. "But we do fit quite well together. I was planning to invite her to see the family."

Mary and Francis winced and he nodded in reply.

"Alcoholic mother and authoritative father?" Remy muttered darkly. "We'll see, I'll have them on their best behaviour."

"I hope it goes well," Mary told him.

"Yeah, we wish you luck," Francis replied. "Lola seems like a great match for you. That, and she asked me what your favourite meal was."

Remy grinned. "That's why I had sushi delivered to my apartment the other day... That woman... The delivery person said it was from an admirer. I was confused - I have many."

Mary chuckled. "I hope that will end when you get with my friend officially."

"Oh, trust me, every admirer I've ever had will know that their time is up," Remy replied, seeing his father wave him over. "It's time for me to bid you so long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, adieu." He bowed and left their side, leaving the couple alone.

Mary tutted, checking the time. "When does this end?"

"One," Francis replied. "It's not even..." He checked his watch. "Quarter to twelve yet."

"I'm so tired," Mary mumbled.

"We have been up since six this morning," Francis replied, leaning his forehead on the side of her head, his eyes closing.

Mary nodded, her eyes scanning the room for her mother or one of her uncles but they landed on Louis again. He was talking to Claude, the princess flirting shamelessly with her whatever times removed cousin and the man himself ignoring the flirting and continuing to hold a conversation.

Claude downed her drink and stumbled on her footing, making Mary realise that she was drunk. Louis left the girl's side and Mary shifted, making Francis wake up and realise where they were.

She giggled. "I'm so sorry."

"You're the most comfortable pillow in the world," he mumbled, kissing her cheek. "I hope no one saw that."

"No one saw the future King of France fall asleep at an event meant to stay awake. Only a few but they were the staff, they won't tell anyone," Mary replied, grinning. "Excuse me, husband."

Mary finished her drink and placed it on a passing tray as she made her way over to Claude. When she reached her, she noticed tears in Claude's eyes and Mary sighed, offering her an arm for support.

"Come with me," she told the girl.

Mary led Claude out and down the hallway until they reached a balcony and sat down. She handed Claude a tissue from her purse but Claude kept her tears at bay, lifting her chin up.

"What's wrong?"

Claude shook, shaking her head. "Nothing," she whispered, bowing her head.

Mary sighed, placing a hand on Claude's before looking at the moon. "'La luna' or 'la lune'?"

At first, Claude was confused but then she looked at the moon and said, "La lune."

"I'm half-French, but even I forget what the simplest things are called," Mary said softly.

"I want to name my daughter that. When I get married," Claude told Mary. "Luna."

"That's sweet. Just like Bash's horse," Mary replied, making Claude giggle and nod. "Claude, I know we've been at each other's throats but I really don't want to be. I just want to live in peace, happily married to Francis and with our baby..." She placed her free hand on her bump. "I have no time for petty teenage drama."

Claude sniffled. "Francis was always there for us, you know?"

"I know. He seems like the world's best big brother," Mary replied.

Claude nodded sadly. "But lately, it's all about you and the baby... I know it's supposed to be but growing up and having responsibilities is shitty. We're not even allowed to go to university but the boys can. We're supposed to be married off to rich men and pretend we're deeply in love by selling our romance for a few years and getting married. I want more. I've always wanted more... I turned eighteen last month and I'm scared of what comes after I finish school next year. None of my friends even like me, I don't know why I'm here."

Mary squeezed Claude's hand. "I know it's hard. You feel so isolated and alone and people use and abuse you," she said. "But you can either let them do that or do something yourself. Own the narrative and be your own person."

Claude wiped her tears. "When I was seven, Father took us to the FEGA where Bash was training. He was twelve and he was already the best rider they had. When Father went to speak to his coach, Bash let us brush his horse and I told him that I wanted to be a tennis player. He laughed and told me that I could be whatever I wanted..."

Mary knew what Claude was getting at. "He never said 'within reason'," she whispered.

Claude nodded. "That's when I knew that I wanted to leave this family, to break free. To do what I want, to be who I want."

"Claude-"

"I've been living a lie and I'm scared," Claude continued, her tears returning and she turned to Mary. "They'll hate me, say that the Devil has corrupted my mind-"

"Claude, you're scaring me," Mary said, feeling Claude tighten her grip on her hand.

Claude ignored her. "But I can't keep this bottled up anymore. I can't do this anymore. Lie to everyone. Pretend I'm happy and wear fake smiles and parade about like we're the country's best family. But we're not. Because I'm broken."

Mary cupped her cheeks. "You're not broken, Claude. The truth will set you free."

Claude looked down. "I'm gay."

Mary breathed out in relief, hugging her tightly. "Oh, God. I thought it was bad."

Claude frowned. "What?"

"How you were getting at," Mary said, pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I thought you were thinking about..."

"Suicide," Claude finished for her. "I've contemplated it a few times, but I wouldn't say that I'm drawn to it."

Mary smiled, nodding. "That's good. Okay," she whispered. "You're gay!"

Claude laughed a little. "I am. You don't hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?"

"We're... Catholic."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I think although we should be mindful of our religion, we can't forget that God still made us and we are who we are. I don't know your parents well enough to work out their reactions should you tell them but I know your siblings will still love you-"

"Not Lissie," Claude scoffed. "Not her ever. Little Miss Fake Arse Modesty."

"Well, Elisabeth is a force to be reckoned with."

"And Mother's favourite," Claude snapped before sighing.

Mary shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Just be our little gay tennis player and make us proud because we already are."

Claude shyly smiled at her. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"It's fine."

"No," Claude told her. "You're genuinely nice. We hate change, that's all. A lot started after Bash saw us less and Father became busier and more absent. I just... needed someone who wouldn't judge."

Mary gave her a warm smile. "Be a leader Claude, lead by example and don't follow anyone including older sisters."

"I hear you," Claude replied with a blush. "We should head back inside."

"We should."

When they stood up, Claude quickly hugged her tightly before letting go and both of them entered the party. Mary drifted off to Francis's side and saw Claude apologise to Louis who seemed surprised about the whole thing before getting her a soft drink.

"What happened?" Francis asked, gesturing to his sister.

Mary smiled. "Nothing much. Just a new friendship," she replied, making him grin.

New year, new relationships.

...

Sunday 12th January marked Mary's twenty-first and although her spirits were low due to trying to contact Kenna on her own birthday the day before on the 11th, her mood was lifted in the guise of a party. A traditional party from the Scottish half of her heritage.

She looked around, taking to laugh at her husband and his friends in kilts as she turned to her best friends and mother in shock. It was an intimate affair, it being a Sunday and her pregnancy was starting to take a toll on the upper regions of her body. She was now more prone to heartburn and constipation much to her dismay.

"Welcome to your kih-lid-her!" Francis announced, making his mother-in-law, Lola and Greer slap hands to their heads. "Oh. I-I'm sorry, I forgot how to-"

"Cèilidh," Mary said, laughing. "You don't pronounce the letter 'd'."

"I will remember that," Francis said nervously, meaning that he'd probably forget but he needed to remember.

Mary sniffled, wiping tears away. "This is the best thing anyone has done for me."

"Ahem?"

"Other than give me life and other things," Mary told her mother, giggling. "Francis..."

Francis waved it off, blushing as he grinned. "It's your twenty-first. I hope you'll do something great for mine next month."

Mary nodded. "I will but being pregnant with your baby isn't enough?"

"F-Fair enough," he said, much to everyone's amusements.

"Right," Mary said, clapping her hands. "What poems have you got for me?"

After drinking, eating Scottish foods and indulging on poetry and stories by famous poets and novelists, everyone partnered off and danced, the Frenchmen getting steps mixed up and wrong.

"You're lucky I married you before I found out you had two left feet," Mary jested.

Francis laughed. "I will improve for the next one."

"We'll have more?"

"Of course!" He cried out. "Our children will be French and Scottish. We need to keep our traditions alive."

Mary's eyes watered and she kissed him, forgetting all about the dance which everyone continued to enjoy albeit sloppily. "I'm so happy you're in my life."

Francis smiled. It was only them in the whole world to him. "I'm glad to be. I don't intend on leaving it soon either."

They kissed again and pulled away to laugh when Julien tripped over Marie's feet and sent them both to the ground. Mary quickly went to help her mother up but Marie was still energetic and happy, kissing her daughter's forehead.

"I'm fine! I feel more alive than I have in years," Marie told her, hugging her daughter tightly. "Happy birthday, Marie!"

Mary beamed. "Thank you, Maman."

After a while, Lola took the stage and held up sheets of paper with poems written on it.

"'Auld Lang Syne'," she announced, giving the sheets of paper to the men. "It's by Robert Burns, a Scottish poet and although we've passed the new year, it still technically is as this poem, its traditional use is to bid farewell to the old year at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve. It's also said at funerals, graduations, and as a farewell or ending to other occasions, like today. it means a variety of things but you could overall say that it means 'for the sake of old times'. I've provided you, men, with the English version, and the ladies and I will do Burn's original as going too Scottish may put you off from saying it. It's pretty strong."

They laughed and Greer stood beside her as Marie and Mary remained seated.

The women began the poem.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?..."