So much had happened in the weeks following Francis' illness and Louis' arrest. Antoine had indeed struck a deal for Louis' safety that satisfied both Francis and Mary as to their safety. They had faced many trials at the hands of Elizabeth's envoys. Francis had confessed to her that the pain had returned to his ear and he would not live long. She had been broken. Suddenly his passion for her and for the simpler things in life had made sense. Charles had been called home to learn more about being a king, however reluctant he was. Then Francis had almost died.

Watching him take the breaths that Mary was sure would be his last felt like nothing she had ever known. A white-hot poker was being thrust into her heart at the same time that her lungs turned to ice and stopped working. She had no memory of what she had said or done, but she remembered watching his chest rise and fall. The image of blood trickling out of his ear was forever seared into her brain. She never wanted to experience anything like that again.

Then Bash came in with his… friend. Delphine. The name left a sour taste in her mouth, despite her being Francis' savior. She had brought him back to life. Whether one believed in such things was irrelevant, as Francis was now alive and seemingly fully recovered while they received the news of the passing of Marie de Guise just days later. Still, the idea that Bash and Kenna would not being resuming their romance, despite mutual trysts and forgiveness saddened Mary. Lola and Narcisse seemed to be doing well, Castleroy and Greer had a plan, and she and Francis were so happy. It seemed so unfair that Kenna would be the only one without a more immediate happy ending to be working toward.

Still, Francis was safe. Scotland's uprisings at her mother's death had been subdued. Although James still wrote to her asking for her presence, to calmed the Protestant lords, Mary and Francis had yet to feel that with his recovery, he should be leaving.

Mary was pacing in the throne room, agonizing over some decisions that had to be made when Francis stepped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She giggled as she leaned back against him and he planted a kiss along her neck. "Are you ready?"

Confusion colored Mary's face. "Am I ready for what? We've no plans today."

Francis gave her a deep bow and then looked up with a brilliant smile. Lola returned the smile, clearly this was a plan that more than just Francis was in on. "She's all packed, Your Grace. Everything she'll need is ready to go, you just have to tell her where you're off to." With that, Lola left the room, smirking madly.

"I'm ready to go, I guess? Where are we going?" She daintily wrapped her arms around Francis' shoulders and plunged her fingers through his hair. "Dear husband, where is it that we're going on such short notice?"

Pulling her close, spinning her around, and then setting her down to sink into a twirl in a dance, Francis' glee was evident for all who were still congregated in the throne room. "We had plans to dance at the Louvre, I believe."

Crossing her arms to help pull in her laughter, Mary responded, "the Louvre? We're going to Paris, Francis?"

He held out his hand, "Do you trust Lola to have packed what you need? Because our carriage awaits." Francis swept her off to the carriage where they promptly set off.

After several hours of talking, laughing, and dozing on and off with each other, Mary looked out to their surroundings and was shocked to find that they were no longer going due north. In fact, they were going more east than north. Paris, from the castle was more or less northwest.

True, she had dozed more than Francis had, so surely he would know if they were still going in the right direction. Still, she queried their location with her husband. "Francis, are you quite certain that we are going the right direction?"

Smiling deviously, he leaned forward to pull at Mary's hand and to tuck her back into his arms. "Well, my love. I'm afraid there's been a bit of a deception. We're not going to Paris."

Hiding annoyance at their actual destination being hidden from her, Mary tried to make her voice light instead of strained, "And just where are we actually going and why couldn't you tell me this in the first place?"

Laughing slightly, so that his chest rumbled comfortingly at Mary's back, Francis took a deep breath, trying to hide his own feeling of amusement but knowing that he was failing as much as Mary had failed to hide her annoyance. "I'll give you a hint." Mary started to protest, sure that she was about to say that she hated guessing games, Francis pushed on, "It's green, from what I've been told. It's a place of rolling hills, tumbling streams, famous for its highlands." Mary had sat up by this point and was looking at Francis with shock in her misty eyes and a hand covering her mouth. He grasped her free hand and placed a kiss at the back of it. "And it's ruled by the most beautiful woman in the entire world."

"Oh Francis, really?" She threw her arms around his neck and launched herself at him in the confined space. Just as quickly she withdrew. "I've no clothes for Scotland! If Lola packed for Paris, I'll be freezing in Scotland. The climate is nothing alike, even in summer, oh Francis, you really should have told me!"

Laughing again, he tried to calm her, "Mary, Mary! Lola and my mother both knew of this location. They packed for Scotland for you. I've planned everything. This is a trip that is long overdue. The people of France and Scotland love their queen, it's high time that the French shared her for a time. And as for the reason not to tell you. I received a report as I was planning this adventure that there are Scottish rebel groups who are funneling money and people into France. They want to target you. As far as the majority of people at court know, we are on our way to Paris. We took an entirely different route than the one we would have taken. Bash will be looking into these threats and hopefully they are contained before we return."

Tugging at the collar of Francis' cloak, she pulled them together for a kiss, "I don't know how to thank you for this, Francis."

The two toured Scotland for three weeks. It felt rather like their marriage tour. Her people adored her. She found ways to turn those uneasy of her French upbringing to her favor. Francis found himself transfixed watching his wife work. He even struck up a close friendship with James while they were there.

He received a communication from Bash that the day of their departure, a carriage was ambushed along the route between the castle and Paris. All of the men had been apprehended. They hadn't been expecting quite so many guards, at Bash's command to be passing through the surrounding wood. They were indeed all from Scotland and bore the emblem of a rebel group that Mary had already invited to speak with her. They were placated, if not pleased, and the threat to Mary's well-being seemed to be lessened.

In what was intended to be their last three days in Scotland, for now, a letter was delivered, addressed only to Mary and bearing an official seal.

It appeared that Elizabeth was also tired of the fighting. Her Catholic people were clamoring for Mary and she knew that things weren't all at rest in Scotland with the Protestants. If they were to meet to discuss the future and a treaty, this could be mutually beneficial.

Mary and Francis stayed up late into the evening to discuss it. They decided on the suggestion of meeting on a ship moored just off of Burwick upon Tweed. This way, Mary and Francis would be less than 5 kilometers from the border to escape back into Scotland, but the ship would be theirs, in English waters. It seemed to be safe. It seemed to be neutral.

A week later, Mary and Francis double checked everything and Francis once again expressed his unease at this meeting, but before Mary could reassure him, the tell-tale sound of a royal visitor could be heard. Mary wished to hurry onto the deck. She had never before laid eyes on her cousin and was anxious, but Francis reminded her that this had to be done with the utmost diplomacy for fear of the wars that could start in Scotland and France should things go disastrously.

When Elizabeth walked in, Mary had a sharp intake of breath and so did the other woman. They knew that they were from the same bloodline, but the shared traits were evident. They each slightly declined their heads in something that could be called a bow to one another.

The three sat down to hammer out this treaty as efficiently as possible.

By the end of the day, each monarch had signed a treaty that set into place security measures, joint military agreements, and securely putting borders into place. It was along day. Each one felt like their diplomacy skills had been spent, but Mary felt that she genuinely enjoyed her cousin's company.

As the two set sail for France a few days later, Francis had to remind his wife, who seemed so very optimistic, that this was not an alliance. It was a non-aggression pact. His sister was still the Queen of Spain and Spain and England had some problems. If it came down to it, their loyalty would need to lie with Spain as long as Scotland wasn't endangered. Still, Mary felt like the target she had felt for the past few years melting away. She turned smilingly to her husband.

"Francis, as much as I was grateful for you guidance and support in that meeting, I'm aware of what the situation still is. You've no need to lecture me. Now, if you're quite done. Come look at the sunset over the water with me."

Francis did as he was bade and wrapped his arms around his wife to take in the scene with her. He smiled happily and sighed at how perfect this all seemed. He briefly thought back to how easily this could hall have been taken from him, but he locked those thoughts away. They had no place in this happy moment.

Twisting around in Francis' grasp, Mary smiled up at him. "I've a secret to tell you, Francis."

He couldn't help it. She looked like an angel, framed from behind by the sunlight, he kissed her deeply, pressing her back against the rail. "What is it, Mary." He ran a hand down her face and gently tugged at her chin.

One side of Mary's mouth quirked up into a smile, "Now, you've got to promise not to tell anyone until we get back to court. Your mother would be furious if anyone else knew before her." She took a deep breath, "Francis, I'm with child." The tears threatened to fall as soon as she got the words out. "I'm with our child. I had a feeling and I was late when we set out for Scotland, but I wasn't sure. It's been some weeks now and I'm feeling quite confident."

The smile that broke onto Francis' face shone almost as bright as the sun behind him. "Mary!" He crushed their bodies together for a kiss and then swept her into his arms to go below decks to celebrate.

A/N: So there's my epilogue. I meant for it to be more of a montage than a chapter and I veered wildly out of history and out of canon for this. When one reviewer said that they wanted this to happen, but that they knew I wouldn't because it's not how the story goes, I considered re-directing it. But my life is just so happy right now that I didn't think I could authentically write Mary's heartbreak at losing Francis. I hope you enjoyed this!