Here's a Christmas/New Year's gift to you guys! I've been reading a lot on the Royal Family, being a Brit and all, so I started thinking about what if France had one? It's sort of a modern, drama-filled spin to ATEOTB so I hope you enjoy it.

It's first set when Francis and Mary are around twenty years of age or so and it's the preparation of their marriage as future King and Queen of France.

Moderately based on Reign itself, but modern.

"Kenna, where the hell are you?" Mary demanded, into the phone. "Our flight leaves in an hour and all of us are at the airport already-"

She pinched the bridge of her nose when the voicemail cut off and she hung up, not bothering to listen to the automated voice. She fixed a smile on her face and walked up to her mother and other friends.

"Shall we get into the jet?" She asked.

"Where is she, Mary?" Her mother asked calmly. "Or do I have to disturb the Duke and the Duchess on their romantic getaway to Peru?"

Mary cleared her throat. "She's coming. In fact-"

"I'm so sorry! I'm here," they heard as Mary turned to glare at Kenna who was running up to them with her guitar and suitcase. "I was stuck in traffic and-"

"You reek of alcohol," Marie said disapprovingly. "Mckenna, this is Mary's and Francis's month. My daughter will be the future Queen of France by some fortunate force and you are late and stinking of alcohol."

Kenna bowed her head. "I am sorry Aunt Marie. I was-"

"I do not care what you were doing," Marie snapped. "Get in the jet."

"Yes, Ma'am," Kenna whispered, not meeting her friends' eyes as she handed her luggage and guitar over to the pilot and got in first.

Once they were in the air and Marie was on some business call, the girls all turned to Kenna expectantly. She gave them a confused glance, but she knew what they wanted.

"I was playing my guitar with a few music lovers at the park," she told them. "One saw me and complimented my fashion style. I couldn't say 'no' to a cool jam session, could I?"

Lola chuckled. "Are you serious? You are already perfect and now you perform impromptu concerts for drunk people at parks."

"Did you drink?" Greer asked her.

Kenna nodded proudly. "Only one beer. It was cheap, but I don't complain when it comes to alcohol," she replied coyly. "I'm sorry, Mary. I will be careful next time."

Mary sighed, nudging her friend's shoulder gently. "It's fine."

Before any of them could say something else, Marie stood in front of their table and eyed them all. "We are landing in Paris. The engagement party will be held there, at the Château de Versailles. From there, we will go to the Château de Fontainebleau for the formal announcement at the royal abode and Queen Catherine and I will oversee the wedding details and honeymoon tour."

"Wonderful, Mother," Mary said happily. "Will we meet Francis at the airport?"

"No, he will be at the château and you both cannot see each other until the party," Marie replied. "I've updated all of your secretaries about your itinerary for the upcoming week after the engagement week. Although your dress will be a surprise to you and everyone, Mary, we will need official photos of you and your bridesmaids attending a bridal appointment at the dress boutique. And some of you trying some dresses on."

Mary nodded. "Well," she began, lifting a flute full of champagne. "Here's to my future marriage."

She was excited. This marriage had been planned since she was five and she and the blonde Dauphin met. He gave her a rose then, saying her eyes were as pretty as the flower and she had kissed his cheek, his chubby cheek.

Over the years, they had not seen each other much, sending love letters and being forbidden to use phones or Skype or any other electronic device to contact each other. But their parents had allowed the use of pen and paper, personally transported to each person.

Mary had noble blood. She was the lady daughter of some late Scottish duke who had been close friends with the King of France who was only the dauphin himself back when the men had met. Along with her father, King Henry VI had also found friends in her best friends' fathers. All had attended some prestigious university meant for high nobility in a coveted country.

Then one drunken night led to a marriage proposal between Henry's future son and her father's future daughter. Not that any of them knew whether or not they'd bear those specific children.

Her father had married a woman, had a son and Henry had also married a woman and had a... son. The second time was a charm. By then, James had remarried and Mary's mother had her, and Henry had divorced and his new wife had Francis, his first son now being illegitimate.

Henry had caused quite a stir in France, his new bride better than the first, his first family unit hidden away like a dirty secret following the surprising divorce and new marriage.

It gave Mary a migraine thinking about it. It is not like Henry would ever confess as to why he left his first wife so abruptly and abandoned their son by carting them to Paris to live with Diane's family. It wasn't like anyone cared anyway, Catherine de Medici had given him many children.

"Am I mad?" She asked her friends after her mother returned to her seat and closed her eyes, seemingly to nap. "Getting married at twenty?"

"Not at all!" Greer said dubiously.

Kenna scoffed. "Don't mind her. You and Francis are a love story come true. Love letters and secret coded messages... Flowers and sweet compliments... Love... Love is beautiful."

"How much did you drink exactly?" Lola asked lightly.

"Not that much, unfortunately," Kenna muttered, checking her phone with a wide smile. "Well, that's my evening sorted. I've made a match on my hook-up app!"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Anyway, Francis's family have a lot of drama and their history is incredible. Like from a revolution, assassinations to claiming France again as a monarch-ruled country? Even the Prime Minister was shaken!"

"It shows how powerful the Valois-Angoulême family is," Kenna replied. "They own everything. From East to West, North to South... Fontainebleu, Paris, Maine, Brittany, Calais..."

"I get it," Mary said shakily. "And one day, I will be the queen of all of that but right now, I will be the dauphine. That unnerves me. We're supposed to be the modern royals and-"

"Mary, you will be fine," Greer cut her off gently. "You've been preparing for this for all of your life. You and Francis are meant to be and this will one day be so easy, you'll breeze through life. And you will have all of us there to support you."

Mary smiled happily. "I don't know what I would do without any of you. Thank you."

"You're we-"

"Ladies, less talking and more reading of the itineraries I gave you," Marie said, her eyes still closed. "They should be in your emails. I am sure your secretaries are efficient in organising your lives."

Mary rolled her eyes, making her friends grin as they got onto their devices and did as told. They didn't need to stress themselves out more, this was supposed to be happy and Marie de Guise was not going to ruin things.

...

Francis smirked, watching him fall off the horse and curse and smack the ground in annoyance. He began to stalk towards him but he was stopped by his security guard's hand on his shoulder. He looked back and rolled his eyes.

"He won't hurt me," Francis snapped.

"Let him cool off first," Michel said. "Your half-brother's temper... Not one to be messed with."

Francis clicked his tongue, his eyes going over to see said half-brother glare at his horse. "You're right," he said. "I think Oakley does it on purpose. He does use Luna a lot and Oakley gets easily jealous."

"Oakley needs to behave. The Baron is competing tomorrow."

"Do you think-"

"You can't go," Michel cut him off. "Your bride and you have an interview."

Francis cursed. "My mother's doing? Knowing full well that I'd want to support my own brother, she would organise something to clash with one of the most important days of his life."

"The Queen is... she wants the wedding to go well," Michel said carefully. "Your Highness-"

"Bash!"

Bash turned away from his horse and his eyes lit up when he saw Francis. Walking over, he took his gloves off and wiped some dirt off his cheek just as he reached the Dauphin and his guard.

"What brings you here? I thought you would be trapped at Versailles until you were allowed to see your fiancée?"

"I can't come tomorrow," Francis told him sadly, stuffing his hands into his coat pocket. "So I am here right now instead. Watching you practice."

Bash sighed. "You didn't have to come. I'm sure Father would go livid if he found out you were here," he replied, starting to walk back to the horse.

"No one can stop me from seeing you, Bash," Francis said, following after. "I want you there."

"Where?"

"At my engagement party tonight. It will be boring without you," Francis told him, pouting a little. "You can't deny me, can you?"

Bash shook his head in disbelief. "I'm not allowed. I am supposed to be Henry's dirty, little secret remember? Locked away in Paris and only allowed to compete in competitions under secret personas..."

"I will talk to him. I want you to be there," Francis said easily. "Also, Mary has friends. Beautiful friends. You can choose-"

"Francis, I do not need your help in finding someone."

"A wife. In finding a wife."

Bash sighed heavily. "That too. Unless you want some horse shit on your face, I will warn you to leave now. Most preferably before I get a call from Father dearest about your disappearance."

Francis chuckled. "It is good to see you though. I miss you."

"You saw me three months ago."

"Exactly. We should hang out more."

Bash shrugged. "We will see. But thanks for stopping by. None of the others ever do."

"They're little shits," Francis said lightly. "One day, they'll be vying for your attention."

"And how will that come to be?"

Francis smirked. "I will be king one day and you will be the second most powerful man in France. Before the Prime Minister, of course."

"Francis-"

"It's wrong. If not for our father's ever-changing mind, you would have been king instead of me. I probably wouldn't even exist-"

"Francis, stop," Bash said. "I actually prefer living in the shadows. My privacy is respected, I am not plastered on every magazine or newspaper headline for sleeping around or being a spoilt brat."

Francis blushed. "They're all slander! We both know that most of what they say isn't true."

"You've been engaged since you were five. It's understandable that you'd partake in various relationships before you're tied down for life."

"Mary's the one," Francis said firmly. "When that ring is on her finger, I am loyal to her."

Bash smiled. "Look at you, all grown up at twenty," he said, his phone beeping. He took it out of his pocket and checked the screen. "And that is my evening sorted out."

"Bash!"

"Francis, I am not coming," Bash said.

"You'd rather have sex with some random woman than come to my engagement party?" Francis asked, slightly annoyed but he couldn't blame him.

"My mother isn't invited nor will my presence even be acknowledged," Bash said. "So, yes. Yes to what you said."

Francis sighed heavily. "I guess it's going to be awkward asking you this."

"What?"

"I need a Best Man. I was hoping it would be you."

"Francis..." Bash said softly. "I would be honoured but I don't think that will be approved."

Francis rolled his eyes. "I am the Dauphin, the groom. Surely I can decide who is involved in my own wedding or not. If you can make it to the engagement party, do. It starts at eight promptly."

"My competition is tomorrow. I have to go to bed early, wake up early and train before it starts. Anyway, why can't you come?"

Francis frowned. "My interview with Mary is tomorrow," he explained. "But I guess we're even. You can't come to my party and I can't come to your event..."

"Look, I hope everything goes well. Say 'hello' to Mary for me," Bash said, giving him a quick hug. "I need to take Oakley back inside and maybe try my luck with Luna."

"Alright," Francis mumbled. "See you later, I guess." He watched his brother walk away. "We better head back, Michel."

"Right this way, Your Highness."

...

"Francis!"

Francis froze in his steps and turned. Michel gave him a pointed look before they turned to Henry. "Dad."

"I have been trying to get in contact with you. Mary and her entourage are here," Henry said. "Walk with me."

Francis joined his father's side as they headed towards the study. "What happens next? I thought we weren't going to see each other until the party?"

"We've organised a press conference for an hour. You, your mother and I will be attending it with Duchess Marie de Guise. Monsieur Narcisse has hopefully sent you your speech."

Francis rolled his eyes. "About how happy I am to be getting married and how I hope for a bright and fruitful future with my new wife-to-be, and so on."

"With more enthusiasm than that, François," Henry said firmly which made Francis scowl at the mention of the French variation of his name.

"You sound like Mother."

"She is in my ear every day about this wedding," Henry said with a sigh. "I am happy, truly. You have found love in this young woman and I hope your marriage will fare far better than mine. Both of them."

Francis nodded. "About that... I was hoping that Sebastian could come."

"He and his mother are in South Africa, aren't they?" Henry said dismissively, walking on.

"Bash isn't and I want him there, Dad," Francis said, catching up to him. "As my Best Man."

"And what about your former school friend? Comte Julien Varga? Or even his identical brother, Vicomte Remy? No one could ever tell the difference."

Francis glared at the back of his father's head but then shook his head. "Julien and Remy are not my brothers."

"Half-brother," Henry corrected him.

Francis sighed. Even Bash was starting to sound like their father whenever he corrected him. "He is still a Valois. Prince William had Prince Harry as his Best Man. Why can't I have my own brother as my own? It is my wedding after all, despite all the women in the castle planning it as opposed to the actual bride and groom, but still. This one thing I want for my wedding. I beg you."

"Don't beg," Henry said, sighing heavily. "And fine. I will call him."

"No, I will call him," Francis insisted. "I want my message to get through clear."

"I raised you well."

Francis smirked. "Yes, yes you did. Now if you will excuse me, I have to memorise a bunch of bullshit for my fucking unplanned press conference."

"A future king does not swear!" Henry snapped.

"Au revoir, Papa!" Francis said, already running down the hall with Michel on his heels. "Pissed him off enough?"

"Oui, Your Highness, oui," Michel replied, laughing.

...

Later that evening, Mary paced the hall, her hands on her hips. "I can't believe her. She's always late and she does it on purpose!"

"I'm sure she has a reason," Greer said. "Traffic."

"That was her excuse last time!" Mary cried out, her eyes widening when she saw her mother head down the hallway with Queen Catherine. "Oh, shit."

"Language, Mary," Lola said lightly.

Marie stopped in front of them, mentally counting. "There are three of you. Where is Mckenna?"

"She is looking for the perfect gift for Mary to Francis," Greer quickly said. "Mary didn't have time so Kenna offered."

Catherine smiled. "Oh, your friends are very helpful."

"They are," Mary said, chuckling nervously. "So, so helpful."

Marie narrowed her eyes. "Get her here. Francis will go in first and you will be announced after he enters."

Catherine placed a hand on Mary's shoulder. "At first, it can be daunting but keep your head held high, Marchioness. There are people that I would like to introduce you to. Perhaps potential advisors for you for when you become queen."

Mary nodded. "Thank you so much, Your Majesty. I cannot wait to be your new daughter-in-law."

Catherine smiled. "That's enough arse-kissing for one day," she said, turning to Marie as her smile left her face. "The Royal Family take promptness very seriously. Put your ladies in order."

Marie nodded and bowed her head. "Yes, Your Majesty. We will see you inside."

Catherine turned and walked away. "You have five minutes, ladies!"

"She's scary," Lola said when Catherine left.

Mary sighed. "She is."

"She is the Queen of France," Marie said. "You need to respect her."

"Oh, I do alright," Mary muttered.

Mary turned around and saw Kenna walking up to them casually. She crossed her arms and shook her head in disappointment, but she wasn't going to let loose now, not with her mother already fuming.

"Did you find the present for Francis?" She asked, knowing she might as well use that excuse for her.

Kenna smiled widely. "It's wrapped in my bedroom, hidden in a secret place for when you both have some private time together."

Mary was surprised but she didn't let it show. Her best friend was a fantastic liar. "Thank you. You were cutting it fine."

"Well, the gift is for the future King of France. It had to be perfect and carefully sought."

Marie was shocked, nodding in reply. "Of course. Well done, Countess. Your dress is a little revealing though."

Kenna shrugged, twirling around for her friends to swoon at her lilac silk dress. "Cleavage was a thing in the Marie Antoinette times!"

"The end of the 'V' is at your belly button!" Marie cried out in horror.

"Fair enough, but it's cute! You want Mary to look good, don't you? Then her friends must look appealing as well," Kenna replied happily.

"And the high thigh slit where we can see more than needed?" Marie demanded.

Kenna shrugged again. "People should not be looking where they shouldn't be. Who knows? I might find my future husband inside there."

"When you stop being a whore, then yes, you will," Marie retorted making Kenna gape.

"Well, Aunt Marie-"

"Can we stop this?!" Mary cut her friend off. "Both of you, stop. Lord... Mother, Kenna can wear what she likes. Kenna, respect my mother. Now, this night is about Francis and me, so can we put grudges aside and focus on that?"

Marie rolled her eyes but nodded. "Yes, my dear. Mckenna, just do not embarrass us. You represent Scotland and most of all, Mary. Your actions do not only reflect on your family but mine. This union is important, you do understand that?"

"I do," Kenna mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Right. Let us check ourselves before we're released into this shitstorm of snakes," Marie said, clapping her hands. "The Scots are here to stay."

...

Francis grinned, turning away from the door to hug Bash tightly. "You made it."

"My plans fell through. So, I decided to come," Bash said, letting go of him. "I wasn't going to skip this. This is important to you and to our family."

"If you take away the unity of two countries and how important this marriage is for everyone involved, I know that Mary is the one," Francis told him. "And I know we'll be happy."

Bash smiled brightly. "And I am here as your Best Man and romance advisor. I've written many books with my secret pen name on what to expect when you're-"

"Expecting? As in a baby?"

"No! Dating," Bash said. "You and Mary are doing this backwards. Marriage and then whatever you should have done before marriage. With my guidance, your marriage will go smoothly. From arguments to whatever mental storage women have of things you've done wrong in the past."

Francis paled. "Women can do that?"

"You have a lot to learn," Bash said, fixing his brother's bowtie. "Right, I've let Father know I am here so let's see how many faces are surprised to see me when I'm announced."

Francis laughed. "I heard the Prime Minister is here."

"For you? How special do you feel?"

"Very," Francis replied.

Bash turned to the door. "It's been a while since I've been to one of these."

"How does it feel?"

Bash smiled. "Awful. I am glad I never was inclined to go. I hope the bar is stocked."

"There's the brother I know and love!" Francis chuckled. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

...

"Entering, the Dauphin de France and Duke de Anjou, His Royal Highness François of House Valois."

Francis took a deep breath in and released it before entering the hall to everyone's eyes on him. His parents were sat on their thrones, Catherine's proud gaze on him as his younger siblings more or less scowled at the whole affair. He didn't blame them, he didn't want to be here either but he was going to see Mary. The only thing that mattered to him.

"And the Baron de Avon, His Lordship Sébastien of Houses Valois and de Poitiers."

"Are you serious?" Bash muttered darkly.

"We get it, Mr Incognito," Francis teased him as his brother joined his side.

They waved a little, shone a few smiles in every direction before making their way down the stairs, Francis first and foremost as his parents got up to greet him.

He kissed his mother's cheeks and then his father's before standing back and letting Bash do the same, but with more haste. It was very uncomfortable but Henry seemed to be revelling in it.

"Valois, Father? Seriously?" Bash asked him. "I have a tournament tomorrow, that could have had consequences on how I'm judged."

"You're my son," Henry said blatantly. "You may bear your mother's name formally but your birth certificate says otherwise. I am actually glad that you are here. We can find a suitable match for you. You're twenty-four next year. You most certainly are not getting any younger. I was-"

"Your Majesties, Your Highness and Your Lordship," Narcisse cut in, bowing low. "The Marchioness and her mother are waiting."

Henry nodded. "Yes, yes. It was these two who made that delay," he said, checking his watch. "Thirteen past eight. Not favourable, wait two minutes."

"I will let them know," Narcisse said before leaving.

"A royal never arrives on awkward times," Catherine said. "Or royal-to-be."

Francis smiled. "Have you seen her?"

"Yes," Catherine said. "She looks wonderful. You're matching. Blue and gold is always the right choice to go for at engagement parties and weddings."

"Great," Francis replied dismissively, waving at a few nobility before turning back to his parents and brother. "One more minute to go." He hated small talk with his parents, they more or less droned on about royal duties and expectations.

Henry smiled. "You should probably meet her at the bottom of the stairs. We will applaud the joining of your hands before you have five minutes to converse between yourselves. After, you belong to the people."

"Smile, back straight. Never frown, there are eyes and cameras watching," Catherine added.

"Very well," Francis muttered with a fake smile, watching his parents return to their seats, acting if they were still in love as the day they married. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, turning to go to the bottom of the stairs.

"Entering, the Marchioness of Moray, Her Ladyship Mary of House Stuart and her mother, Her Grace Duchess Marie of House Guise. Accompanying them are the Countess of Barton, Lady Mckenna of House Beaton and Her Ladyship's ladies, Lady Greer Seton-Norwood and Lady Lola Flemming."

Mary entered first, her eyes immediately landing on Francis before she quickly turned to scan the room and wave. Shoulders back and smiles on, she thought. Her mother stood beside her, also waving before the two of them were joined by Kenna, Lola and Greer behind them.

Together, they went down the stairs, Mary's hand taking Francis's on the second to last step. He 'helped' her down the remaining steps and walked her over to the centre of the room where everyone clapped as foretold.

After they were applauded, everyone returned to their own business and Mary finally turned to Francis, leaning their foreheads together. They couldn't kiss, the reporters would have a field day but they could share this short moment of relief and joy and love.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too," she whispered back happily.

Francis beamed. "Meet my brother. Well, you've already met him but it has been years."

Mary chuckled, letting herself be led to where Bash was standing, a drink in his hand. "Bash, it's nice to see you again."

"Likewise, Mary," Bash said, raising his flute. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Mary said happily. "Dear God, I feel like a peahen."

"Well us peacocks are intimidating," Bash replied teasingly. "Have a drink. I totally ignored you coming down those stairs to get one as the bar was free."

"How kind of you. Anyway, I can't. Not yet," Mary said sadly.

Francis nodded. "Strict rules. Only for Father's speech and toasts," he replied.

Bash frowned. "Now, that's just unfortunate." His eyes landed on Kenna. Now, why is she here?

"What is it?" Francis asked, trying to turn to where his brother was looking at.

Mary also turned. "An ex-girlfriend?"

"No," Bash mumbled, gesturing over to Kenna. "Who is she? The brunette in purple?"

Mary gasped in realisation. "Oh! You're talking about Kenna!"

"Yes, Kenna. Is that her name?" Bash asked, strained. His eyes widened when her eyes landed on them and she wore the same shock on her own face as she made her way over. Dear God, did she follow me here?

"It is," Mary confirmed, beckoning her friend over.

"What is it?" Francis asked him, studying his brother's face in amusement. "Do you like her?"

"Kenna!" Mary said, linking their arms when she arrived. "Kenna, meet the Baron of Avon and Francis's older half-brother, Sebastian. Bash, meet the Countess of Barton and my best friend and cousin thrice removed, Kenna. Or Mckenna if you want to be formal. We do have ears about, after all..." She smiled for the cameras, using Kenna's arm as a pressure point to cool down her nerves.

"We meet again," Bash said, quickly downing his glass and taking another. But clothed now.

Kenna giggled nervously. "We do."

"You know each other?" Francis asked curiously.

"Oh, we know each other very well," Kenna said, taking a flute from a passing tray. "Very, very well indeed."

Bash nodded stiffly. "So well, you could say we met four times?"

"Oh, don't miscount, Baron Sebastian. We met more than five times," Kenna said flirtily.

Bash smirked. "We did."

"It's lovely to meet you again. For the sixth time," she said, holding her hand out for her to kiss softly.

"And you. It's my honour, again," Bash replied. "I find your dress... interesting."

Kenna licked her bottom lip. "You do?" She asked softly, looking up at him through her lashes before taking a sip of her drink.

"What is going on here?" Mary asked, sharing a bemused glance with Francis.

"I am just getting to know your friend, Marchioness..." Bash trailed off. "So, you're a countess?"

Kenna nodded, feeling Mary release her death grip on her. "Yes, I am. I am the eldest child in my father's second and current marriage. He decided that a title should be more attractive to suitors."

"Yes," Mary replied warily. "So, this means that my ladies are paraded like birds on heat, looking for husbands at my engagement party."

"I don't mind," Kenna said, sharing a smile with Bash. "You can never know who may be interested in these gatherings."

Bash sipped his drink. "Or out of them."

"Yes," Kenna said. "I made sure to design the best dresses for this reason. I never want to be caught off guard."

"Well, I am sure someone will ask for your hand in marriage soon," Francis told her kindly. "You've already got my brother drooling all over you."

Bash turned to him. "I am not drooling on-"

"That's enough talking," Henry said from behind them. "Francis, Marchioness, it is time to do your rounds."

Francis nodded, taking Mary's hand. "Yes, Father," he said before the couple walked off to join Catherine, Marie and some noblemen.

Henry eyed Kenna's outfit, a small smirk settling on his lips. "You must be the Comtessa de Barton. Yes, Duchess Marie told me to be wary of you."

Kenna curtseyed. "Your Majesty," she greeted him, eyes locked on his.

"You're a confident one, aren't you?"

"I am, Your Majesty," Kenna said. "You know my father?"

"How is the Duke?" Henry asked politely.

Kenna smiled. "Very well. He might visit in the future."

"Perhaps sooner rather than later," Henry said coyly, turning to Bash. "Get the Comtessa a drink."

"I get my own drinks, thank you very much, Your Majesty," Kenna said politely. "And I like the Baron of Avon's company. We've been getting to know each other very well. His compliments are keeping me from leaving his side."

Henry stared her down and she stared back, not wavering at all under his gaze. She's confident and holds her own. Perhaps... "There's something about you. You spell 'trouble'."

"I spell 'spirited'," Kenna told him. "Your Majesty."

Bash looked between them, taking a sip from his glass. He'd already sussed his father out. "Are you done eye-fucking or do I have to leave for you to rip each other's clothes off?"

"Sébastien!" Henry snapped. "I am in a loving marriage."

"We all know that isn't true," Bash said darkly. "Would excuse the Comtessa and me?"

Henry faltered but he left without a word. Banished away by his own illegitimate son. Perhaps he should have not been lenient with the boy and his mother all of those years ago.

Bash turned to Kenna. "What was that?"

Kenna scoffed. "I flirt with everyone! Kings and their sons alike," she said, shrugging. "And your father spells 'no way in hell'. I don't feel safe with him. Too uptight. You don't need to worry."

"I don't? Why don't I have to worry?" Bash asked.

Kenna stepped closer to him. "You like what you see."

"I do like what I see," he said, grinning at her. "And I did so earlier before you ran away to attend this monstrosity of a party."

Kenna stepped even closer to him, looking up through her lashes. "Did you really?" She asked softly.

"There are cameras around. You should stop right there."

"They don't care about you," Kenna said softly. The cameras could be damned.

"But they care about you."

Kenna froze. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a countess from Scotland," he said softly. "If you're seen with anyone below your status..."

"You're a prince," Kenna said matter-of-factly.

"No, I'm not. Not anymore. Not even for a day," Bash whispered. "You know how it is. A king divorces his beloved wife on a whim and takes away his son's name before he even has one."

Kenna sighed. "I'm sorry that happened to you and your mother."

Bash blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting that. "You need to make your rounds. Actively look like you're considering options for a suitable match."

"How about a not-so prince?" Kenna asked him coyly. "You're handsome, you know how I tick already."

"We've known each other for less than five hours," he told her. "That isn't even enough for me to ask you on a date if I could. I see one of my many siblings. I have to go."

Kenna faltered, watching him leave to greet his little brother. She couldn't believe how quickly that turned. From flirting in front of his brother and Mary to the realisation that they were socially miles apart. Swallowing down her tears, she grabbed another drink and went to find Lola and Greer.

...

Twenty-Three Years Ago

"Henry, I do not understand!" Diane cried out, following her husband quickly as he stormed the halls. "We have just had our first child, a son. Why are you doing this?"

"You were twice divorced," Henry stated, stopping and turning to face her. "This will be the third."

Diane paled. "But why? What have I done? My eldest son is with his father, my daughters are with their father... You and I, we are in love."

"A better offer, Diane. All you have to offer me are lands in Avon," Henry told her. "This woman is an Italian princess. Her family own Italy - maternal side who rule every bank from every direction and paternal who own Italy overall. Diane, she and I have been..."

Diane set her jaw. "Have been what? In relations?"

"I respect you, Diane," Henry began. "As the mother of my firstborn, I will allow you to keep a title after we divorce. Archduchess, does that seem fitting?"

"Is this a joke?" Diane cried out. "Henry, I have done everything for you. I let you treat me like nothing, even though I am old enough to be-"

"My mother? Indeed," Henry cut her off. "Catherine de Medici, however, is my age and very fertile so we should have no issues in producing an heir. Diane, the people hate you, why do you bother?"

Diane scowled. "A little hate doesn't affect me. I am the Queen of France, I do not need to care about subjects hating me! I am above them."

"And that sort of language will have our heads cut from our bodies," Henry snapped. "This marriage alliance will be good for France. We will have strong allies in Italy. Diane, it is done and I will see you tomorrow morning to sign the papers. If you do not come, I will have to use alternative forces."

Diane stormed off, slamming the door to the nursery behind her. She walked towards the crib, seeing her sweet child reacting to the sudden noise. She hushed him, gently stroking his cheek as he yawned and settled back asleep.

They had not even formally named him nor shown him to the world. Now, he'll have no title, no name, no lands, no father. Well, she wasn't sure if Henry would abandon him or not but something sank in Diane's heart as she realised that it could well be the former option. At least she had family in Paris. Her brother, her mother... She had wealth, being a Countess before she married Henry through her birth nobility.

A couple of dukes and a king on her record. Four children, three fathers.

One thing she knew was that she could never show her face again. The embarrassment was too much.

The next day, she signed the papers, her former husband named their child and she walked away.

...

Present Day

"It's over. It's finally over..." Mary breathed out, admiring her new ring. It was an heirloom from Francis's family and it sparkled beautifully, the ruby gem as red as her nails.

Francis smiled, kissing her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "Do you like it?"

"I have to," she said. "But I do. It's really beautiful. Your mother wore this as well?"

He nodded. "Yes. Then she had a replica made after she and my father got married. It has to be done this time as well. It is an old relic, it's bound to get ruined or damaged."

"So I can keep it until our wedding day?"

"Yes."

Mary beamed. "Oh, Francis... Fifteen years we've waited for this. Since we were five... On the 17th of September, we will be husband and wife."

"Then one day, king and queen," he said, twirling her around in his arms. "You're so beautiful."

"You're just saying that," she said, laughing.

"No," he whispered. "The moonlight is hitting just the right spots. You're like a dream, a wish come true."

She playfully rolled her eyes. "And you're the cheesiest man in France."

"I will take that," he replied. "I can't wait to start my life with you."

Mary beamed up at him, bringing his head down to meet his lips in a soft kiss. "We... We haven't been intimate in a long while," she whispered.

"God, if my parents knew we were intimate at all, we'd be separated until our wedding day."

"At least they're being kind in keeping us together until the last two days of being unmarried," Mary replied. "I can't wait for our wedding day, Francis."

Francis grinned. "Well, that's a sure way of making sure we are fertile."

"It won't even matter when we conceive our child," Mary told him, kissing his neck. "It's only a week and a half."

The blonde sighed but smiled. "What are we waiting for?" He asked before lifting her into his arms and placing her down on his bed. "Practice makes perfect."

...

Kenna tutted when she found out she was lost. The chateau was huge, endless of hallways and none of the security guards was being helpful. The chateau even had men from the French military storming about and none of them paid her any mind.

She was annoyed. She had managed to find her bedroom earlier after sneaking off for her love tryst with the Dauphin's older brother. Kenna had been surprised to find out that he was a prince. Well, the brother of a prince. He was still one of the sons of a king.

And Henry himself...

She knew what he thought of her, an enigma. Even Bash knew that his father seemed to become bewitched by her. It was an effect she had on everyone, she couldn't help how she was.

Sighing, she leant her head against a wall and closed her eyes. She had drunk a lot, trying not to think about Bash nor his stares or quick glances away whenever she looked at him discreetly.

Perhaps that is why she couldn't find her damned room. Her mind was fuzzy and she yawned, almost deciding to fall asleep right there and then. She didn't mind sleeping on the ground, she used to camp out in the woods as a girl. The outdoors was her freedom and her oyster.

"Comtessa," she heard a familiar male voice say. "Are you alright?"

"I am," she replied, keeping her posture and eyes closed. "Just tired. I seem to have lost my bedroom."

"This is a huge chateau," he replied, slipping an arm around her waist.

Kenna giggled and turned, placing her hands on his shoulders. She opened her eyes and stared into his sea-coloured eyes. "Wow, I never knew your eyes were so beautiful..."

"Thank you."

"Can you help me? I... I think I may want a little nightcap..."

He chuckled, brushing her hair from her eyes. "You're so beautiful."

"I know," she replied flirtily.

He looked around before finally settling on her. "Should we continue the night in my rooms?"

"We should," she whispered, closing her eyes as she kissed him hungrily, gripping onto his cheeks.

His hand slid up her thigh, massaging her hip as their mouths battled for dominance against the brocade wall. He soon pulled away, wiping smudged lipstick from her lips.

"How can anyone resist you in a dress like that?" He asked.

"Exactly why I wore it in the first place," Kenna admitted. "I want you."

"You do?"

She nodded, a bit of uncertainty in her stomach but she ignored the warning signs. "I do."

"Well, let's go to my rooms then."