Author's Note: The bug has struck again! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and enjoyed my first story, "Just a Girl." I feel much too old for this, but I'm enjoying the freedom of writing fiction again (which is honestly something I never thought I would say).

This is part of a larger story to come, but it is first and also a standalone piece. I imagine it as a continuation of Mary and Francis' final scene in 1x04, "Hearts and Minds." My intention is to take it forward into a much different place than what 1x05, "A Chill in the Air," seems to have in store, but that will be posted as a separate story altogether. What follows here at least holds the possibility of not contradicting canon, while where I see it going certainly will. Hopefully that story will develop and find itself written in the coming days.

There's not much action here, mostly serious fluff (is that possible?). I feel, however, that the show has thus far been nothing but action and, so, I offer you a simple Frary respite from the passing and coming storms. Enjoy!

Author's Note Addendum: In case you missed it, I did start the intended multi-chapter AU story that arcs off of this piece. It's called "Finding Home" and you can find it here in the Reign archive at s/9845853/1/Finding-Home.

Disclaimer: I still do not own nor claim to own "Reign" or any of its characters, but they are certainly a joy with which to play.

The moonlight illuminated the islands in the inlet. They stood there, hand-in-hand, looking out at the surrounding landscape, each occasionally sneaking a glance at the other. For the first time since Mary's arrival, there was no threat of danger, no news of crisis. Just a peaceful moment to be, a moment to enjoy one another's presence.

"This will all be yours someday," spoke Mary quietly, breaking the silence. She turned to face Francis, his eyes still focused outward.

"I hope it will be yours, as well," he murmured, turning to face her and using his grip on her hand to pull her closer. He caught her eyes with his.

"Francis … " she began, but he was quick to continue. He knew that look in her eyes, that pleading look, that look which begged him not to make any promises he wouldn't be able to keep.

"I cannot promise anything," he said softly as he held her gaze. "But I must tell you that my head does not necessarily say 'no' anymore. You have proven your value and that of the Scottish alliance these last few days. I am no longer afraid of what the alliance might mean for France, but I am most certainly concerned for my father's continued reluctance to set a date for and fully commit to our marriage."

She nodded her head in acknowledgement as he continued. If only you knew, she mused. Maybe I shall keep this one thing for myself a bit longer. His voice took on a more pleading tone.

"We must wait and we cannot lose ourselves in this. We were desperate for one another last evening by the lake, but we were spared anything that might have compromised your reputation and your position as queen. I cannot guarantee my own restraint should that happen again."

The corners of her mouth twitched in remembrance at what had led to their breach of propriety the previous evening. You were so sweetly protective, so beautifully golden in the fading light. I thought I would never have the chance, and I so desperately wished to know what it would be like to be yours. There was plenty of cause to doubt Bash as the sole family possessor of good looks and passion.

"Then I should avoid any mention of your sickly, stunted self?" teased Mary.

Francis laughed before cradling her cheek in his right palm, lightly stroking under her ear with his thumb and weaving his other fingers into her loose hair.

"So long as you know what is true, you can mention whatever you wish in jest," he gently replied. What does that mean? she wondered. Her brow furrowed, attempting to make sense of his words.

"And just what is true, Francis?"

He locked his eyes into hers, allowing the space between them to speak for itself before answering her question. As he began to speak and as she began to listen, the beating of her heart increased in its frequency, nearly racing at his words.

"What is true is that you are more than I can handle. You are a queen and I am yet a prince. There are moments when I look at you and I find my chest so tight with feeling that I cannot breathe. Your beauty and your kindness are staggering." He paused, drinking in the serenity of the night and her place next to him.

"You are pure, and I cannot but feel led to reach out and touch you, to hold you, protect you. Yet, you are not yet my bride, Mary, and I must hold to that truth until I am told otherwise."

Mary stood silent for quite some time, wrapped in the stillness of this one moment with this particular man, savoring the touch of his one hand upon her cheek and the other entwined with her own.

"What do we do until that day shows itself? Do we avoid one another? Am I never to touch you?" she questioned, eyes searching for answers. I don't know if I can keep from touching you, now that I know what it is like, she thought. At her questions, he moved his right hand to meet his left, clasping her two hands in his own.

"In the spirit of honesty and truth, I must admit I don't believe I could go a day without you – not if I am to keep hold of any sanity. Perhaps a chaperone could be useful, though we might begin with something simple on our own and see how we behave. Could I entreat you to join me for a walk on the grounds tomorrow evening?"

"Tomorrow?" Mary grinned readily at his earnest request. "I suppose I can tell Greer to keep my evening hours open after supper."

"I will look forward to our ramble all day," Francis replied, smiling with one of those rare smiles that split his face from one ear to the other – a smile that she had come to recognize was just for her viewing.

And, with the details settled, he took her right hand and placed a chaste kiss upon its knuckles, stepped back to bow his head slightly and took his leave of Mary's rooms.

"Good night, Mary."

The door closed heavily behind him and Mary's heart began to slow from its frantic pace. She shuttered the balcony doors behind her, sharply aware of the night's chill in Francis' absence.

Mary heard Aylee's distinctive footsteps enter softly, gracefully. She must have been waiting in the hall, she observed. Loyal Aylee, always nearby.

"Mary? I saw Francis leave. Might I assist you in any way?"

"No, Aylee, but thank you for your offer. I think I will simply seek to sleep tonight. It has certainly been a long day, and I would like to be well-rested for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, Mary?"

Mary's face flickered a bright yet weary smile with the question. Her countenance reflected both the day's excitements and the evening's earlier peacefulness. Aylee was quick to notice her queen's ease, its first appearance since their return to the French Court.

"Tomorrow, dear Aylee, Francis and I are going for a walk."

"Well, then," said Aylee playfully, stifling a laugh. "That is certainly a reason to look forward to tomorrow. Good night, Mary."

And, with that, Aylee dropped into a swift curtsy and left Mary alone in her rooms. Mary clambered into her bed and burrowed beneath the covers – ready to sleep and rest and dream as she hadn't in weeks.