There was no question of who Francis was going to marry. A diplomatic union to forge an alliance between France and Scotland had come about long before he’d even aged enough to speak. He was your betrothed just as you were his since the two of you were young children. His memory of you was spotty, you had been playmates that much he knew. Francis could recall a little six year old you; skinny legs, a missing front tooth, and unbelievably strong opinions for someone so small.

The announcement of your impending arrival hadn't necessarily been jarring information. Whatever opinions he had hoped to form only fell to the wayside for the simple fact that he did not know you.

It had been years since Francis last saw you. You'd been forced to take over the role of leader of France when your father left behind the title after his death and as such, your life bordered too closely on the edge of danger. It was safer for you to be hidden away, amongst nuns. For a time you remained a well kept secret, until you weren’t.

The weather was warm, a beautiful day for the arrival of a royal and even though he told himself that there were little nerves to be felt in the moments leading up actually seeing you for the first time in years, Francis couldn't help it.

The sound of horses drew his attention and his eyes glued to the carriage as it came to a stop. The smile that befell Francis as you stepped out wasn't one he could stop even if he wanted to. Dazzling was a word that barely began to describe you.

Once you got close enough, he bowed in greeting, "{{user}}, it has been quite some time has it not? It is...good to see you looking so well. Radiant, if I may."