The days of travel blend together as we continue on and on. It feels as though I'll never reach the secret monastery or feel safe again. When we finally arrive, I have lost track of how long it has taken to get here. As I look around, I can see that there is only one building, much smaller than any castle. I have to remind myself that here I am Mary, just another young girl sent to the convent. Only a special few can know who I really am in order to keep me as protected as possible. As one of the nuns shows me to my room I don't perceive anything she says. My thoughts are of the castle and the goings on there. I miss it dreadfully already as I considered the castle my home and the people there friends. Now I am far away from all that I know, alone, for as long as Mary of England wants my head. I look around at the small room that I can now call mine. I have a bed, a window, a small table, and a trunk for my new clothes and that is all. As I force back tears I seat myself upon the bed and pray that my stay here shall be short.

Two months pass in a daze. Most days I spend in my room when I am not at Mass or walking outside. I have become acquainted with a few girls my age but mostly I keep to myself. As I'm sitting in my room reading, one of the nuns softly knocks on my door before entering. Sister Emile is one of the few who knows of my true identity and is also one of my favorites. She always smiles and is very nice. The same cannot be said of some of the other nuns here. Sister Emile closes the door firmly behind her before sitting beside me at the table. I was fortunate enough to get two chairs to go with my small table for while I do my basic studies and read.

"How has your day been so far Mary?" she asks sweetly as she often does. Sister Emile always manages to get a smile on my face, no matter how melancholy I am.

"It has been fine Sister Emile, about the same as all the others I suppose. Do you need help with something?" I ask.

"No no dear, thank you for asking though. I actually have something for you. This arrived for you just today and I thought I would bring it to you as quickly as I could. I'm sure you need something encouraging during your time here. Take it, and enjoy. I'll see you at dinner." With that she sets what appears to be a sealed letter upon the table and takes her leave. Curious I pick it up and examine the seal. Unless I am mistaken it appears to be the Valois seal. I can feel my heart beat faster with excitement. Perhaps the danger is passed and I can return to court! I could see Francis again, well everyone again. Quickly I break the seal and begin reading.

My Dearest Mary,
It has been a few weeks now since you left that night and we at the castle were all relieved to receive word that you arrived safely. Though Mother will not tell me where you are she has given me permission to exchange letters with you which has been some relief. Everyone here is so dreadfully boring and you always kept me amused. I'm sure you will be pleased to hear that your ladies in waiting all made it home safely and are all praying for your safety. To say they were distraught at your departure would be an understatement. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Yours,

Francis

Although I'm disappointed that I won't be returning to court soon, the prospect of hearing from Francis while I'm here suddenly makes everything incredibly more bearable. I quickly fold the letter back up and place it underneath my pillow. I should probably burn it just incase, but I can't bring myself to do it. Just knowing it is there brings me comfort that I haven't had for the months that I have been here. Closing my door tightly I leave my room in search of Sister Emile. If I'm to write back to Francis, I'll be needing parchment and other materials. As I begin my search I can't help but think of how much brighter the world seems now that I have at least something to look forward to.

The letters come infrequently but Francis never fails to write back to me. The monotony of life at the convent is broken by the words in Francis' neat handwriting that keep me captured with his tales of court life. As the weeks pass our letters become longer and I feel like I'm getting to know Francis much better than I ever could have expected. The details in his letters make me feel as though I am at court with him and I find myself laughing out loud at his descriptions and thoughts. I still feel an ache of loneliness as I spend my days waiting, hoping that I'll return to court soon. However as the seasons pass and the anniversary of my arrival at the convent looms closer, my hope begins to fade and I cling desperately to the letters I receive from Francis. It becomes increasingly difficult to remember the shade of blue his eyes are or the way his yellow curls cover his eyes, by now he may not even look the way I remember him. I do my best to fight the crushing loneliness that threatens to overtake me and pour myself into the letters that are my only lifeline.

~FPOV~

My days are anything but idle, filled with lessons, meetings, and constant summons around the castle. Now that I am nearing my thirteenth year my father has increased my responsibilities and seems obsessed with making sure I'll be a suitable successor. However I find that more bearable than the lords in court who have become determined to marry me off to one of their daughters. It seems each day multiple girls are thrust before me in hopes I'll choose one of them and shower their families with land and money. I've nearly lost my temper many times but Mother constantly nags me to put on a smile and be polite. It drives me mad that these people act as though I am not engaged to the Queen of Scotland and like she doesn't exist. The lot of them are fools and my only consolation are Mary's letters.

The days when I receive Mary's letters are always brighter and I can feel that my steps are lighter. Her humor and intelligence never cease to entertain me and I spend the days thinking of what to respond to her. Recently she's begun including sketches that I think are stunning. I tell her so in each letter but I would give anything to be able to tell her to her face. It has been nearly two years now since she was spirited away from me and I feel the pain of her loneliness in every letter. I would give anything to bring her back to court but I would never risk her safety. Until Queen Mary of England or as Mary and I have begun calling her in our letters, Le Crapaud (the toad) is dead that is not a possibility.