On the third day, Mary woke up at dawn. She still felt tired, disorientated; her heart was still filled with sadness, while her body still ached, and she had spent the night dreaming of prisons and thunderstorms and blurred reflections through glass partitions, but still she felt as though she had slept slightly better than she had slept ever since she'd woken up in the hospital wing two days ago, mainly due to her older brother's presence in her room.

James had slept on the floor all night, wrapped up in the old patchwork quilt; he had stayed close to the door, as though trying to offer Mary some sort of shield from the dark shadows in the castle at night, the way he used to when they were children, ever the protective older brother.

There had been something reassuring, in knowing that James had chosen to stay with her, to protect and reassure her; it had been soothing, to stitch up the old blanket together and hope that the two of them were starting to repair their own relationship and heal the wounds from their past.

James had only been awake for a few minutes when he was all business again, preparing to leave for a morning meeting which had apparently been scheduled for just before breakfast, and suggesting that Mary should get ready for breakfast soon, too.

There was something reassuring in James's bossy tone, too. Mary was glad, that James seemed more like his usual self again, and that he was able to hold things together for the sake of the family.

According to James, their mother had insisted that they all eat in the private dining room together this morning. Mary wasn't sure if this was such a good idea, given the current circumstances-she felt that they should be more visible to others in the castle, to create a strong presence and offer reassurance, but she was not about to go against her mother's personal wishes just yet, after everything her mother had lost.

James's tone of voice was reassuring as he left the room for his meeting and he promised Mary that he would see her at breakfast, but Mary sensed from the troubled expression on his face that there was something else on his mind; something else he wanted to say and had not yet said.


Mary walked slowly down the stairs on her way to breakfast. She knew that the moment she stepped into her family's private dining room, it would be very obvious who was not there at the family table, and she was trying to put off that painful moment for as long as possible.

She took a slight detour on her way to the dining room, heading in the direction of the hospital wing so that she could check on Francis. As always, she was longing to see him, to just be in his presence.

The usual guards stood watch outside the rooms of the hospital wing, but again they let Mary pass.

Francis was still asleep when Mary looked into his private room in the hospital wing. He still looked exhausted, and Mary could practically see the tension visible in his face, even as he slept, but he looked less pale than he had looked on the first day, and he looked a little better than he had looked on the second.

The room was fairly crowded, as was always the way when a member of a royal family was unwell, but Catherine, Charles and Henri looked fairly calm, all of them gathered around Francis's bed. Catherine was talking to a few of her advisers in a mix of French and Italian, and Mary guessed that if Catherine was back to calmly discussing royal policies, then Francis's condition must now be stable, at least.

Mary still felt anger towards Catherine, on discovering her alliance with Narcisse, but she felt that now was not the time or the place to voice that anger. They were both desperate for Francis's recovery, after all.

Mary stood in the doorway for a few moments longer, taking more time to reassure herself that Francis was okay, and then, with a polite nod to Catherine, and Francis's brothers, she left the room so that she could head to the dining room for breakfast.


Mary felt her father's absence the second she walked through the dining room door. His usual seat seemed to taunt her as it remained empty, never to be filled again. It was finally starting to hit Mary that he was not ever coming back, and the pain was almost overwhelming.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy, and the family table seemed so much bigger today; there seemed to be a wider gap between its occupants. Everyone in the room was dressed in black, and it was like being in attendance at a funeral.

Her mother and her brother sat at opposite ends of the table.

James looked tense throughout breakfast, and he barely spoke to anyone. Normally, he tried his best to make polite conversation with the staff who always served breakfast, but today, he could manage little more than a polite nod at each staff member before he stared off into the distance again.

Mary assumed that his behaviour was probably as a result of painful memories, and the pain of losing his father, but the moment they had all finished eating, James cleared his throat as he looked from his mother to his sister with a determined expression on his face, as though he had something serious he wished to discuss…

"Kenna and I are not in love," said James abruptly, apparently getting straight to the point. "I didn't believe that this mattered at first, but recent events have changed my perspective. Kenna and I have different goals in life, and we would not have been compatible in marriage…"

The look of shock on Mary's mother's face matched Mary's own sense of shock.

Mary felt her eyes slowly widening; she could not believe that James was admitting this out loud.

"James…" her mother began in a warning tone of voice, but James simply continued speaking…

"Mother, I know your thoughts on this matter, and the future of the kingdom remains my priority…but the attack and the events that followed have put things into perspective and caused Kenna and I to revaluate what we both want out of life. Life is short, and we both deserve to be happy, and I'm sure that our subjects would want members of their royal family to strive for happiness, while still fulfilling their duties. Yesterday, Kenna and I both admitted to the doubts we'd been having about the marriage. The attack was awful, and tragic, but it forced us to face up to the fact that the marriage would never have worked; perhaps we should take recent events as a lesson to be our true selves and do what is right."

He paused and looked around the room. Mary's mother still looked shocked, and a little annoyed, but she didn't seem to have the strength in her to argue right now.

"Kenna and I will soon be taking steps to void the engagement contract that was set up for the two of us…" James added.

His tone was firm, final. It was clear he had already made up his mind and would not be going back on this decision, no matter what anyone else thought.

Mary still couldn't quite believe that this was happening. It was as though her whole world had shifted since the night of the attack; like she had woken up in an alternate universe where impossible ideas were now becoming a reality.

"My duty will always be to my country," said James, "but I think it's time for the royal family to move forward now; to bring about change and establish new traditions."

Still in a state of shock on hearing James's news, Mary chanced another glance at her mother.

Her mother didn't look angry so much as she looked defeated. Her shoulders were slumped as she sighed to herself.

Mary knew that her mother had never wished unhappiness on her children, but at the same time, she had always raised Mary and James with a sense of duty and obligation. Their roles as members of the royal family, and their duty to their kingdom, were always supposed to come first, and now James was rebelling against these values at a time of great uncertainty.

Mary could understand the look of worry in her mother's eyes; with the long planned for marriage no longer going ahead, there would be even more uncertainty for the kingdom. There would be no hope of an heir any time soon, and no happier event like a wedding to distract the country from the recent attack.

There was still no promise of a marriage alliance for Mary, the second-born, and, what if James hastily married outside of the trusted circle of nobility, in order to ensure that he could not be coerced into another arranged marriage? That could potentially bring about scandal and gossip and more uncertainty for the Scottish royal family. James was still the heir to the throne after all, and his actions would continue to be under scrutiny-what if the country did not approve of James's new bride, and he was forced to abdicate? Already, it seemed like his position would be under threat in breaking off his engagement.

But still, Mary couldn't help feeling happy for her brother. She knew how big of a step he had just taken, in going against years of tradition and fighting against impossible odds, and she was proud of him. Finally he was fighting for his freedom, making his own decisions and prioritising his own happiness.


After breakfast, Mary began to head towards one of the conference rooms on the other side of the castle, where she would be carrying out some of her royal duties for the morning.

She knew that if her mother had had her way, Mary would have been sent back to the hospital wing 'to rest and recover' for the rest of the day, but Mary had instantly refused, when this idea had first been suggested to her. The idea of lying in a hospital bed and doing nothing, while there was still so much to be done, as well as the thought of all the troubled thoughts and regrets that would run through Mary's mind as she laid there, surrounded by nurses and doctors who would all be fussing over her and talking about her injuries, was almost unbearable, and so Mary had insisted that she was going to be fulfilling duties throughout the day, doing her part to help rebuild Scotland's reputation. More than ever, she felt like the people of Scotland needed her to put on a brave face now, and she did not want to spend the day obsessing over everything that Castleroy, Narcisse and Sebastian had revealed to her yesterday.

A couple of female guards accompanied Mary on her walk to the conference room, keeping their distance and walking a few feet behind her, as though they could sense her wariness around the castle's security team.

The guards seemed friendly enough, but still Mary's whole body felt tense in their presence. She wasn't sure how long it would take, before this uneasy feeling around guards went away.

The danger might have passed, for now, but still it was incredibly unnerving, walking through a part of the castle where the attack had taken place.

Damaged pieces of furniture and portraits were scattered all over the floor, as well as pieces of metal that looked like they had been used as weapons on the night, and Mary was certain she could see a few specs of blood on a few of the walls and curtains.

The memories of the night of the attack threatened to flood her mind again, and it took all of Mary's efforts not to let these memories take over. There was much to be done today, and she already had enough to occupy her.

Her thoughts were still a little muddled, after hearing James's recent announcement.

She was happy for her brother, she really was-she could only imagine how elated he must feel, on finally having a taste of some sort of freedom for himself; the independence to make his own decisions for once-but for so long, the arranged marriage between James and Kenna had felt like such a certainty; a necessity even, to ensure Scotland's security, and now, Mary felt as though the whole family had again been cast adrift, uncertain about what the future held.

What did all this mean for the Scottish royals? What would it mean for the future of the Scottish crown?

Mary could offer her family no security in James's place-she had no idea what Francis would do, now that he was the king of France; she didn't even know if Francis would want to see her again, after everything that had happened, and only three days ago, Mary had been making plans to run away to London, leaving her life as a royal behind for the foreseeable future. She had put nothing in place to secure her family in this uncertain time, and it had never occurred to her that James would also do such a dramatic U-turn on his plans.

She wondered if she had relied too much on her older brother over the years, to step up and save the day. It meant that she had never allowed herself to learn to be the hero of her own story.


As Mary approached one of the castle's conference rooms, she noticed that Kenna was sitting outside the room, on one of the wooden benches. It was likely that she had been meeting here with James this morning and yesterday evening, to discuss the decision to end the arranged marriage contract.

She looked surprisingly subdued-for Kenna, anyway, with her head bowed, as though processing a great shock. She played with a loose thread on one of the cushions on the bench, looking for a moment like a lost child who had nowhere else to go.

Mary felt a wave of pity for Kenna. She knew that Kenna had also had her doubts about the marriage, and that she had been upset, at the thought of marrying someone who did not love her, but Mary also knew that Kenna must still be feeling a sense of sadness, at losing out on the opportunities and the recognition that a marriage to a royal would have brought. She would have been a queen-the envy of the whole country, and the loss of this prestigious title must have been upsetting for Kenna.

For so long, Kenna's life had revolved around royal duties and preparation for the wedding and joining the royal family, and now she must a sense of shock at all of it being over, and having nothing to do-nothing to focus on or plan for. Her future was just as uncertain as Mary's was now.

Kenna looked up on hearing Mary approach.

"Kenna, I'm so sorry," said Mary, her tone full of genuine sympathy.

"Please, don't be sorry, Mary," said Kenna as Mary sat down next to her on the bench. "I know it's for the best. We made this decision together. We didn't love each other; we couldn't have made each other happy in the long term. We would both have fallen for others throughout the marriage and then we would have grown to resent each other. At first, I thought I could live without love in my marriage, as long as I had everything else-the title, the influence, the pretty dresses...but since the start of your matchmaking show, I've realised that I'm not that shallow girl anymore. The events of the attack were like a wake-up call. Life is short, and I want something more from it, Mary; something real; I want to truly be happy and be in love."

Mary stared at Kenna, feeling both surprised and impressed by Kenna's self-reflection, and her new-found maturity, despite her obvious sadness. Mary thought that she should perhaps also be focusing on the positive things that the attack had taught them all about themselves.

"But still, I'm sure this is a difficult time for you," said Mary, "and I want you to know that I am here for you…"

For a long time, Mary had disliked Kenna; she had wished that her brother had chosen someone else as his future bride; but now, those negative feelings seemed like a part of the distant past, as though they had belonged to somebody else. Over the past few weeks, Mary had got to know Kenna better, and she felt that the events of the attack had finally united them; they shared a bond now, through the events and the circumstances they had experienced together, and from now on, Mary wished nothing but the best for James's ex-fiancée.

"I will admit I still feel a sense of sadness," Kenna replied. "My engagement to a future king always had a sort of certainty about it, and I no longer have that certainty now, and I'm scared, Mary."

Mary took hold of Kenna's hand, trying to offer some sort of support. "You must remember that now, your future is finally in your hands to do as you like with it," Mary told her, trying to keep positive. "You have a chance, to find your own happiness, to find real love."

Kenna looked at Mary for several long moments, as though trying to study her, before she spoke again: "You know, there were so many times when I told myself that you envied me, for what I had...for all the opportunities I would soon have, but honestly, I think it was the other way around."

Mary widened her eyes a little, surprised on hearing Kenna admit this.

"I saw what you had with Francis," said Kenna, "and I wanted a love like that, too."

Mary felt a little anxious on hearing Kenna talk about Mary's relationship with Francis again. She wished that she could believe in Francis's undying affection for her in the way that Kenna seemed to, but she was still so uncertain about what would happen between them going forward, and she too was scared about her own future.

"And I saw that you had a genuine friendship with Greer, and I wanted a friendship like that. I am sad, you know," said Kenna, interrupting Mary's more anxious thoughts, "that you and I are no longer going to be sisters-in-law. I think I would have grown to like us being family." Kenna blinked back tears as she spoke, and Mary sensed that she genuinely meant what she was saying.

"We can still be like family, Kenna," Mary told her, her tone determined. "The things we have been through will always unite us. And I'd be honoured, to call you my friend."

Finally, Kenna managed a small smile through her tears. Until recently, it had not occurred to Mary that Kenna had actually wanted her friendship.

The two of them sat in silence for a little while, leaning their heads on each other's shoulders in both an affectionate and supportive gesture.

"Mary, how is Bash?" Kenna eventually asked her as she sat up a little, her tone a little hesitant, as though unsure if it was appropriate to be asking Mary this at all.

Mary looked at Kenna. Kenna cared about Bash, in spite of everything that had happened-it was written all over her face, as much as she seemed to be trying to disguise it, perhaps out of guilt, after everything he had put Mary through.

"He is alive, and relatively well, when compared with Francis's situation," said Mary slowly after a few more seconds' pause, trying not to sound annoyed, or bitter. She was not yet ready to share with Kenna what Bash had revealed to her at the prison yesterday, but she sensed that Kenna had already guessed at most of Bash's history.

"I suppose that's one thing," said Kenna, before she quickly changed the subject, perhaps to spare Mary any further tense moments, for now.

Mary couldn't help feeling anxious at Kenna's mention of Bash. She wanted Kenna to find real love, but she was worried that Kenna was hoping to find that love with Bash.


Mary didn't have too long to ponder the Kenna and Bash situation, as she was soon ushered into the conference room by her advisers to prepare for the day ahead.

She said a quick goodbye to Kenna, promising to talk to her again tomorrow, before she followed her advisers into the room, where they started to go through the day's schedule.

The morning turned out to be a busy one. James had managed to arrange conference calls with both the Scottish and English Prime Ministers, and after a brief conversation with both in his own meeting room, James transferred the calls over to Mary so that she too would have the opportunity to speak to the two leaders.

The Scottish Prime Minister was sympathetic, offering her condolences, and pledging her support. Mary thanked her, reiterating just how much her family was looking forward to working with her in the future. The royal family needed all the support they could get right now from within the country.

The English Prime Minister was also surprisingly sympathetic, with the tragedy seemingly encouraging him to put differences aside, for now. Mary made sure to seem very grateful for his support and his kind words, exaggerating just how much they meant to her, and also offering her hopes that Scotland and England could work together, going forward. The two countries might have had their disagreements, but Mary was not about to pass up on more potential support. Scotland was in a vulnerable position at the moment, and she would have to play nice with England for the time being.

Mary then took some time to prepare for an interview with a local news team, which she had agreed with her mother just after breakfast that she would give this afternoon.

The interview was scheduled to take place in the drawing room, where the atmosphere would appear relaxed, and filming could take place at certain angles that would avoid showing any of the damage that had occurred as a result of the attack. The idea was to keep the interview fairly casual, while also projecting a strong image of the castle to the people of Scotland when the interview was broadcast on national television.

Mary had the luxury of preparing what she was going to say in advance, with the help of her advisers. The idea was to appear calm and in control of proceedings.

Mary was a little surprised that James hadn't wanted to give today's interview, but he seemed to have backed away from royal duties since the attack. Mary couldn't help wondering if this was going to be a long-term action on James's part.


Mary really wanted to visit Francis in the hospital wing at lunch time, but there was little time for a break with the interview time fast approaching. Mary's advisers wanted to ensure that she had eaten, and that she was rested and hydrated before the interview, and then the camera crew arrived, and there wasn't enough time for a visit. Mary felt a little annoyed about this, but she reminded herself that Francis would not want her to neglect her royal duties.

Mary felt that the interview went quite well. She did not feel as nervous now, in front of the camera. A couple of her mother's stylists had dressed her in smart clothes, nothing too extravagant, and she had made sure to thank the Scottish people for their continued support, promising to continue to serve them in return, as well as thanking both the English and Scottish Prime Ministers for their phone calls today.

She was still in a state of shock after the attack, and her body still ached a little whenever she moved, but she found that the royal duties and appearances helped to ground her and give her a sense of purpose. She was grateful, to feel that she had something to focus on; something that she hoped was benefitting the whole of Scotland.


After the interview was over, Mary was allowed a brief break from royal duties, and so she headed back towards the hospital wing, where she was planning on briefly checking in on Francis again.

To her utter surprise and amazement, when Mary stepped into Francis's room and she managed to catch a glimpse of Francis through the small crowd of advisers who had gathered in there, she saw that Francis was awake, sitting up a little in his bed and with his eyes open as he blinked a few times.

Mary struggled to cover up her gasp of surprise, bringing her hand up quickly to her mouth.

She blinked back tears from her eyes. She could not get too close, as Francis was surrounded by doctors and advisers and family members, but he was awake, and that was all that mattered. Perhaps he would be all right after all. She had never felt a relief like it.

She stood in the doorway for a few minutes longer, just to reassure herself that this was real; that Francis really had woken up.

As she turned to leave, Francis looked across the room, as though sensing Mary's presence, and he caught her eye, looking at her through a small gap in the people that surrounded him.

The two of them stared at each other for a few moments, unnoticed by the small crowd gathered around Francis's bed, and the look they shared felt almost electrically charged as so many unspoken words seemed to pass between them in that look.


When Mary left the hospital wing and headed to a smaller living room at the front of the castle to take a quick break, her heart felt lighter than it had felt for days.

Her world was still upside down, but Francis was awake now-his eyes were open, and although he still looked very tired, he looked better than he had looked since the attack. He still wasn't fully out of the woods yet, but at last Mary allowed herself to have some hope.


The rest of the afternoon was much quieter, more peaceful than the morning had been.

The royal advisers wanted to debrief after the interview, and they went through the answers that Mary had given to each question, praising her for her words and her composure throughout the interview, as well as predicting possible social media reactions, and planning further interviews with other family members over the next few weeks.

Greer paid a brief visit, and Mary was allowed some time to drink tea with her in a quieter room in the castle.

Greer seemed to be deliberately trying to keep the conversation light, talking about her younger siblings and their day to day lives. It was just the distraction that Mary needed to forget her troubles for a little while, and she suspected that Greer felt the same.


When Mary returned to the conference room, she took her old laptop with her, going through her old notes and documents that she had written over the years.

She had felt so angry, when she had first written some of her earlier plans and ideas for how the country should be governed, but she did not feel that anger anymore...not the same kind of anger, anyway.

Now, so much had to be removed and edited so that she could identify realistic, practical ideas that could potentially be put in place to help Scotland, and for the royal family to genuinely help its subjects.

She printed off a few edited documents and added a few written notes as suggestions before she had them delivered to James's office, in case he wanted to look at any of her ideas. James was the future king, after all; any decisions about royal policies were his to make.


After that, Mary attended the last meeting of the day with her advisers, as they wanted to discuss the possibility of Mary giving an interview to a magazine, including a photoshoot to show how the castle was being rebuilt.

Mary agreed to the interview, but she advised them all to be cautious; she had learnt from the matchmaking show how easily magazines could turn serious matters into tabloid fodder and showbusiness events, and that was not what she wanted for the royal family, in light of recent events. They were still in a state of shock and mourning, and everything had to be done tastefully. She would not be posing in pretty dresses for a magazine photoshoot; the journalists would have to focus more on what she had to say about Scotland's future.

James attended the final part of the meeting, although he chose to sit at the back of the room, watching Mary as she sternly addressed her advisers. Mary had the strange feeling that she was under observation, although she wasn't sure what it was that her brother was trying to assess.


By the end of the afternoon, Mary was desperate to return to the hospital wing to see Francis again.

She was therefore more than a little annoyed when James's main adviser summoned her to dinner in the private dining room, requesting that she join her brother and mother immediately, as there was an important matter her brother wanted to discuss.

But still Mary tried not to grumble out loud as she headed to the dining room; all of the eyes of those present in the castle were upon her in the aftermath of the attack, and she did not want to behave like a spoilt child. She really wanted to spend more time with Francis, but she knew that duty had to come first right now, if there was to be any chance of repairing the damage that the attack had caused. Perhaps some of that damage could have been avoided in the first place, if she had been more dutiful all along-this thought still weighed heavily on Mary's conscience.


Dinner was a rather tense affair. It seemed that James wanted his family to eat first, before any important matters were discussed, but Mary found that she barely had an appetite, as it was obvious that James had something else he wished to announce, and Mary was overcome with anxiety and curiosity as to what he was going to say. She only hoped that he would not be bearing bad news.

Finally, the plates were cleared, and James cleared his throat, getting ready to speak.

"Mother, Mary," he said, his tone serious, solemn. "There are a lot of things I've been giving serious consideration to since the events of the attack, and after even more serious thought about this particular matter throughout the day today, there is a second announcement I need to make."

Mary looked at her mother, who already looked tense.

Although she couldn't quite explain it, Mary felt as though the air were heavy around her, as though there had been a sudden shift in the atmosphere; as though something profound were about to happen.

"My duty will always be to my country," James continued, "and I will always put Scotland first, but I have never been suited to a crown, to kingship…I have never wanted the role…"

Mary struggled to suppress a gasp on hearing James admit this out loud. Her brother had always been so dutiful; he'd always followed the rules, and Mary had never thought she would hear him say any of the things he'd said today, especially not this.

James sighed. "I can't be the king that Scotland needs…"

"James," Mary's mother interrupted him, her tone sharp, "it is one thing to void an engagement contract, but it is another thing entirely to abdicate! Especially at time like this! Do you have any idea of the seriousness of what you are suggesting? Our rule is now surrounded by uncertainty after a crisis that very nearly destroyed us! It could still destroy us! If you renounce your claim to the throne now, you might as well put the final nail in the coffin of our rule over Scotland! Without a clear heir, the country will be thrown back into chaos! The rebels will plan another take over, while noble families will fight over their claim to the throne, no doubt ruled by their own greed and personal ambitions!"

Mary couldn't help feeling a similar sense of panic; she did not want Scotland to plummet into chaos as the nobles and the rebels fought over who should rule; it was the worst possible time for any further uncertainty. Although, she couldn't help feeling a little relieved that her mother seemed to be getting back to her true self; her mother's anger and sternness, and her determination to fight for her family's place as rulers of the country no matter what were familiar to Mary, and strangely reassuring.

"I know things have been difficult for you, James," Queen Marie added, "but this is not the answer for Scotland! You no longer have a marriage contract; you have no children-no heir! Where does that leave us? What alternative to we have, if you give up the throne?"

"Mother," said James, sounding surprisingly calm, "if there were truly no alternative, I would simply stay silent and do my duty, but we both know there is an alternative…"

James looked across the table, right at Mary.

Mary felt her heart start to beat faster as her mother also looked at her. She gripped the sides of her chair tight, already feeling tense.

No...surely not? Surely James did not mean…? It was impossible, wasn't it?

"J-James?" Mary asked him, the sudden silence now becoming unbearable.

"Mary," said James, "you've shown so much strength, in the way you handled the pressures of the matchmaking process, and the aftermath of the attack. Your speeches have inspired the people of Scotland, and you have remained so composed while giving interviews. You have great ideas; well thought out plans for Scotland's future. You've managed to negotiate with two Prime Ministers, and you showed such bravery during some very difficult moments. You've always been so brave Mary, and these past few weeks, you've acted like a true queen. You are the queen that Scotland needs and deserves going forward, and you should be the one ruling the country."

Mary still felt as though she were frozen to the spot in her shock and disbelief. Her heart was still beating at an alarming rate, but still she could feel the sense of duty coursing through her blood.

"The role is yours," said James, "should you wish to accept it, of course."

At James's offer, Mary could truly feel the weight of the decision she was about to make and the impact it would have on her future. The enormity of what her brother was asking of her was starting to become apparent to her as her shock wore off.

Her mother and her brother both seemed to be waiting for her to give some kind of answer.

Mary thought about it. She truly thought about it...

This was a role that she had never thought she had wanted; it was a duty she had always tried to run from. But, after the events of the past few weeks, she did not want to run away anymore. The lives of the people of Scotland were more important to her than her own selfish needs; it was a lesson that she had in some ways been learning very slowly for years, and in other ways it was a lesson that she had learned very quickly during the attack.

If James did not want to rule Scotland, then she could not leave Scotland unguarded, vulnerable to more rebels. Somebody had to step up and rule, to rebuild and take Scotland forward.

With the crown on her head, Mary would truly have the means and the power to rebuild Scotland from within; to make decisions that could help the people and hopefully avoid any further rebel attacks.

But that did not mean that she was not afraid. She knew that if she accepted this role, so much would have to change; there was so much she would have to change about herself; she would have to strive to be better, to not repeat the mistakes of her teenage years. She would have to be brave in a way that would ensure she could do great things and help people, rather than indulging in a reckless sort of bravery. She would have to make sacrifices. She knew it would be a battle, to strive to be a better person; to strive to be the best queen that she could be.

For so long, she had wanted to escape, but now, she knew in her heart and soul that her place was here; she felt like she could now face the challenge head on; that she had finally found her calling. And now she had to answer to that calling…

"I accept," said Mary, already feeling like a crown had been placed upon her head on saying those two words.

The crown would be heavy, but she felt like she had made the right decision.

James nodded, and finally he managed a smile. "In that case, I would like to put myself forward to be considered for the role of your key adviser, should you choose to offer me that role," he said.

Mary smiled back at him. "There is nobody else I would want for the role," said Mary, feeling a rush of happiness at the thought that her brother was prepared to remain by her side as she ruled Scotland, helping and advising her.


After much discussion around the dinner table about the logistics of the decision that had just been made, Mary was finally allowed to return to her room for the evening.

She planned on visiting Francis again a little later in the evening, but for now, she just needed a moment to herself to try to process the impact of what had just happened.

She took slow, dignified steps as she walked upstairs to her room, managing to hold her head high and nod politely at staff as they passed her. They did not yet know that Mary's whole life, her whole future, had so recently changed.

When Mary was finally back in her room, she allowed herself to gasp in shock and she took several deep breaths as her mind and body tried to comprehend the recent turn of events.

She ran towards the glass doors that opened out onto the balcony and threw them open.

She stepped out onto the balcony, noting that it was still light outside. She felt gratitude for every breath of fresh air that she breathed in. It had started to rain, but the droplets of water came as a welcome relief.

Mary held out her arms and looked up to the sky, letting the rain wash over her. The sun was peeking through the clouds, in spite of the rain, shining just brightly enough to light the way.

Mary continued to look upwards, again appreciating every breath she took as she breathed in Scotland's air. Her country. Her home.

She was alive. She had survived, against all odds.

Her future was secure…as was Scotland's; she could feel it deep in her soul. She had a long battle ahead, but she would fight for her country; she would fight for things to get better; she would fight to be better; she would rebuild herself, along with Scotland.

She had not been handed a burden, but a wonderful opportunity, and she was determined to make the best of it. She was going to be queen.

She became aware of the sound of knocking on her bedroom door.

"Come in!" she shouted automatically from the balcony, assuming that it would be James.

"Mary…"

She froze at the sound of that voice. It was not James after all.

Hardly daring to believe it, Mary slowly turned around.

She'd thought that she'd simply imagined hearing his voice; she'd thought it was impossible, that he could be up here, but there he was, standing in her doorway.

Francis.

He still looked pale; he was clearly still in pain; his side appeared to be bandaged underneath his loose white shirt and his hand gripped the doorframe as though he still required some support to stand upright, but to Mary, he looked as beautiful as ever.

The sun's golden rays seemed to shine directly through the room, framing Francis's face and shining light on Francis's golden curls.

It was a miracle. Francis had woken up, and got back on his feet, and he'd felt well enough to come up here... he'd wanted to see Mary-he must have wanted to see her, because surely his advisers would have advised him to stay in the hospital wing a little longer, or reminded him of the long list of duties he had to fulfil, in his new role as king, but he'd found her, here in her room. Mary almost felt overwhelmed at the thought of it.

Mary stepped back inside her room, taking slow, cautious steps closer to Francis, still looking at him in disbelief, in wonder.

Her heart was beating fast again, and she was struggling to catch her breath as she became more aware of his presence, of the fact that he was here.

She started to take more rapid steps towards him as words left her lips without thought: "W-why did you do it?" she asked him with a gasp that sounded suspiciously like a sob as she looked at his injured side; the place where the knife had pierced his skin.

She could tell by the look of understanding on Francis's face that he already knew that she was referring to the night of the attack, when he had chosen to defend her by jumping in front of her, putting his own life at risk to save her.

"Mary…" he said again.

"Why?" Mary asked him again, almost hysterical now. Her voice was unsteady, her hands were shaking. "You could have been killed, I could have lost you, your country could have lost you…why, Francis?"

It was as though Mary were right back in the castle gardens, on the night of the attack. It was as though no time had passed at all since the knife had been thrown. She could feel all the fear and the blind panic rushing up; all the feelings she'd tried to push down over the past three days in order to effectively do her duties, along with an intense rush of love for the man standing in front of her.

She felt as though she had just barely been holding herself together for the past three days; trying to put on a brave face for the benefit of those around her. She had been metaphorically stitching herself back together at the broken seams, just like the frayed patchwork quilt, doing just enough to look presentable. But now, on seeing Francis here, alive, awake, recovering; on realising just how close he had come to death; how close she had been to losing him, she was starting to become unravelled again.

Francis crossed the threshold into her room, also taking rapid steps towards her.

Finally, they met in the middle of the room, almost stumbling into each other as Francis took hold of Mary's arms to catch her before she fell, helping to hold her up in spite of his own injuries, to hold her together.

"Because I love you!" said Francis as he looked right into Mary's eyes.

A silence passed between them at Francis's declaration, the air thick with what had just been said, along with all of the unspoken words they had yet to say.

"Because I love you," Francis repeated, his tone firm, certain.

They both moved even closer at the same time.

And then Francis's lips were on hers.

Mary kissed him back, the kiss at first fast, desperate, passionate as Francis pulled her in closer and she parted her lips. It was like they were trying to put all their feelings-their fear, their relief, their hope-into that kiss.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few moments, they parted to take a breath.

They leaned in even closer to one another and stayed still for a little while, their foreheads touching.

Mary felt a tear run slowly down her cheek, but she did not brush it away; she simply let it fall, allowing herself to feel all the emotions of the moment.

"I love you," Francis said again, his voice barely more than a whisper this time. It was like they were sharing a secret, just between the two of them. Oh, how Mary wanted it to be the two of them, from now on, for the rest of her life.

Mary leaned in for another kiss, and the kiss was a little slower this time, a little more intimate, as Mary tried to express all the love she felt for Francis without words.

She started to take a few steps backwards, keeping hold of Francis's shirt the entire time as she moved towards her bed.

She barely even registered the feeling of kicking off her shoes or falling onto her bed. She could only feel Francis on top of her as she pulled him down with her and they continued to kiss.

Francis winced in pain a couple of times as their movements became more rapid and their touches more insistent, and Mary had to remind herself to be gentle, to be careful; Francis still had a long way to go before he was fully recovered, and they would have to take things slowly. She did not want to cause him any further pain.

Slowly and gently, Mary unfastened the buttons of Francis's shirt, and then Francis helped her to remove it.

Mary just wanted him close; she wanted the skin-to-skin contact, to remind herself that he was here, with her.

Everything else could wait; she could tell Francis her news about being queen later; for now, she just wanted to live in the moment, to experience every emotion and sensation that went with it.

She ran her hands gently over his torso, trying to avoid the bandage on Francis's injured side and thanking every star that would soon appear in the night sky that she got to share this moment with him.

Mary had never in her wildest dreams believed that they would have this, that she would be this lucky; deep down, she had feared that Francis would not survive the injury from the attack; that he would not recover; that he would not ever get up from the hospital bed; that he would leave her and return to France to rule his country without a goodbye…but he was here; Mary could feel his heart beating against hers; his skin felt warm as she ran her fingers over it.

Francis leaned down to kiss Mary's neck. Mary guided his hands towards her own shirt, silently willing him to unfasten the buttons, to help her to be exposed as he was.

"Are you sure?" Francis asked her softly, pulling back a little as he studied Mary's facial expression.

Mary nodded and whispered, "Yes, I'm sure," before Francis moved closer for another kiss.

She knew that everyone else in the castle would probably advise against this, and yet, Mary had never been more certain of anything in her life. She wanted this. She wanted Francis.

"Do you want this?" she asked Francis in return. Do you want me? was her unspoken question.

"There's nothing I want more," Francis replied before he placed a kiss above Mary's heart.

"Don't stop," Mary instructed him as Francis removed her shirt and then started to remove the rest of her clothes.

She didn't ever want this moment to end.