The Scottish Thistle and the French Iris
Chapter 1
"You're out of your bloody mind, Francis. You're asking me to bed your daughter. You know how insane that sounds coming from you?" Allistor asked his friend.
Francis Bonnefoy sighed. "Oui. It is strange. But it cannot be helped. Like you said, you need the French. And my daughter is in need of a husband. I fail to see how this is a problem."
"Wasn't she just married not that long ago?"
"It was 30 years ago. And yes, she was. But Anne was a child then. And Antonio was not a good match."
"And you think I will be?"
"It was either you, Gilbert's younger brother, or Roderich. And I'd rather she be here with you than where I may never see her again."
Allistor sighed. There was no way he'd get out from under his brother's thumb without the help of a more powerful nation. Francis was all he could get his hands on at the time and he couldn't just wait for better opportunities to come along. "Fine. I'll do it. At least say I get to meet the lass first."
"But of course. You think I would come all the way here and leave her in Paris? Non, mon ami. She is at her lessons at the moment."
Lesson? God help him. She was still young enough to need them. Or at least it needed to look like she was. "Lessons? I take it you brought her nursemaid too, aye?"
Francis laughed and took a drink of wine. "She's out at her riding lessons. And she doesn't have a nursemaid anymore." With a few words to a nearby maid in French, Francis sent her to fetch his daughter.
"Tell me what she's like. I don't want to go diving into deep water before I know how to swim."
"She's like us, so you won't have to worry about having her die on you in the next few decades. She likes to ride, not so much hunt. Her embroidery and needlework are fantastic. She loves children."
"I meant tell me her personality, you twit. Not the things that would make her a good wife."
Francis sighed. "I think you'll be able to figure that out for yourself, mon ami. Ah! There you are, ma petite fluer!"
Allistor turned to look in the direction of the door where a young woman, who looked to be no older than sixteen, stood. Her skin was pale, to the point where the veins in her face could faintly be seen, and her hair was dark brown, almost black, and was covered by a fine jeweled mesh cap. She wore her hair pulled up in a complicated looking braided crown that wound about her head in a way that showed off her forehead more so than anything else. She had a thin, slender neck that bore a single necklace; a large silver crucifix on a pearl string that hung down to sit on her bust. The pendant was inlaid with precious stones, sapphires perhaps? Maybe something else. Allistor had never paid much attention to jewels. The girl wore a red kirtle and a deep blue cotehardie. She seemed thin and frightened, like she had been hurriedly changed and thrown into the room, which she probably had been.
She looked at Allistor, raised her slim eyebrows at him, and met his gaze without hesitation. She curtsied formally and rose back up. "Bonjour." She said. Her voice was trembling slightly, whether from the cold or from fear Allistor couldn't tell.
Allistor nodded and looked at Francis. "Does she speak English?"
"Yes I do, my lord. My name is Anne Catherine." The girl, Anne, said her voice a touch stronger.
Allistor looked back to her and gestured to the seat beside Francis. She sat, hands folded in her lap, back straight, head held high. Jesus Mary and Joseph, what kind of nursemaid did this girl have that made her sit so stiff?
"Now then, mon petite, I have brought you here because, as you know, your friend Marie de Guise will be marrying James V of Scotland."
"Yes, papa. I know. She was busy making plans to leave when we left."
"I know, mon cheri. Now, you also know that I have been searching for a husband for you as well."
Anne went to nod, then stopped, frozen. She looked at her father, then at Allistor, and shook her head. "Non. Papa, non. Vous ne pouvez pas me forcer à épouser cet homme!"
At this Francis became angry, which wasn't hard to do, and raised his voice. "Vous ferez comme vous dit Anne!"
At that, Anne stood, tears in her eyes, gave a small curtsey, and rushed from the room. As the heavy oaken door shut, Allistor could hear her retreating footsteps and soft sobs. Wahtever Francis had said had upset her.
Francis sighed. "I'm terribly sorry, old friend. She isn't usually like this."
"Well if I was told I would have ot marry a stranger I'd probably object too. Have you thought about sending her south to my little brother?"
At that Francis laughed. "and merry her to the country who's king lopped off the head of his last wife? Non, mon ami. It is either you, the Holy Roman Empire, or Austria that I make my alliance with. I will have no other."
Allistor sighed. There wasn't much he could say to that. The Holy Roman Empire was just a small child, and Anne looked to be at least seventeen. People would talk. And he had haeard that Austria was a miserly, stingy old man who cared for nothing but his music. Pretty as Anne was, she would wither up and die there. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll marry your daughter."
Francis gave a happy cry and kissed his friend on both cheeks. "Merci beaucoup Allistor! You will not regret this!"
A/N: And that's chapter 1! Woohoo! Btw, I spent twenty minutes trying to name this story. I settled on national flowers and I have to say it sounds pretty good. I do not own anything but the plot and Anne, as she is my Hetalia OC. Please review and let me know I'm doing a good job. Thank you and have a great day!
Non. Papa, non. Vous ne pouvez pas me forcer à épouser cet homme! French "No. Papa, no. You cannot forece me to marry this man!"
Vous ferez comme vous dit Anne! French "You will do as you are told Anne!)"