The Unexpected Carriage Ride

Freedom: it was an unmistakable feeling. It rushed from the center of one's heart, to the tips of one's fingers, and the soles of one's feet. It was as fleeting as a hummingbird's landing, as refreshing as the first breeze of spring. It was even more entrancing when one knew it was about to end.

A black blur galloped over a crumpling brick wall. Sebastian, the future king of France, urged his black Arabian stallion to ride faster. The stead seemed to respond energetically. Both man and horse dived into the immense forestry. Sebastian easily maneuvered through the multitude of tree trunks that seemed to emerge out of the black abyss. The riding was challenging; tree roots, rocks, and rugged ground caused him to constantly be on his guard. A few rays of light managed to break through the canopy of trees and give him a better view of the forest floor. In a few minutes he'd emerged through the tree line and into the wide rolling field of vibrant green grass. At that moment the sun should reach over the horizon and illuminate the view with brilliant golden light.

Ever since he was named heir to the throne, Sebastian had stolen away while the sun was still in the midst of its slumber. He'd take his horse and ride into the early hours of the morning and watch the sun rouse itself awake. Anyone who noticed his absence did not dare speak up about it. And King Henry seemed to care little about where he was going or what he was doing unless this presence was requested at court. Sebastian appreciated this small amount of freedom.

Yet even this small freedom was tainted. The silk and gold embroidered garments that he had been forced to wear always felt too restricting. Sebastian looked up ahead and saw the forestry thinning out. The next moment he was engulfed by a dazzling light. He had taken longer than he had imagined saddling his stallion because the sun was already stretching its fingers over the horizon.

Sebastian was temporarily blinded by the glaring light. He brought his horse to a slow trot as he lifted his hand to protect his eyes from the beams of light.

A high-pitched scream made Sebastian reach for the sword secured at his waist and pull harshly on the stallion's reigns. The black Arabian neighed in protest and stood on his hind legs before stomping on the ground.

Sebastian looked around, his hand held a firm grip on his swords hilt. He swept the area with his gaze. He looked over all the grounds but could not find where-who had made that noise. It had sounded quite close by.

"Your Grace is overly unobservant," an indignant voice ran out through the field.

Startled, Sebastian moved his gaze down to the ground. There, in a heap of skirts and fruits, was a young maiden. She was blatantly glaring up at him and making no move to pick herself up or gather her belongings. In a sort of daze, Sebastian climbed down from his stead. It was not often that a common maiden would show such disdain for someone of his obvious standing. She was a beautiful young woman. Her face was curtained by long, black hair that cascaded down her back in slight ringlets. She had a slender figure. Her delicate hands were covered by a pair of worn out gloves made out of simple wool. He drank all of these features in, but the thing that captivated him the most were her eyes. Those dark hazel orbs that hid a burning fire. No woman he socialized with had that look.

And those blazing hazels were still boring holes in him.

That look brought him back to reality. Sebastian quickly offered her his hand. She looked at it with what appeared to be disdain. "Your Arabian did no damage to my legs, Your Grace," the maiden claimed as she moved away from his hand and began gathering her belongings. Sebastian was dumbfounded by her reply, and, as a consequence, was left standing with his hand still outstretched for more time than he would have liked.

"I meant no insult by my action," Sebastian finally stated as he kneelt beside her. "You have my deepest apologies for having startled you and caused you harm." Sebastian began to assist her in gathering her produce. They seemed slightly damp from the morning dew.

"It is not very often that a well-bred Arabian comes breaking through the forest line as the sun breaks through the horizon." The maiden declared. "I was simply caught unaware. It will take more than an inexperienced rider to cause me harm." She looked up at him through her long lashes.

Sebastian then was almost positive that she did not truly know who he was. She must have deduced that he was a noble but not his exact standing. The future king of France was not at all offended by the fact that this woman was claiming he was inept. The insult was almost welcome after months of being surrounded by nobles and servants that praised his every action.

"I was simply blinded by the sunrise," Sebastian defended his pride. "I don't believe I recognize you. I am Sebastian-"

"I must command you on your subtlety. I know the face of my own prince, Your Grace."

"I was not attempting to impose my standing on you. I was simply curious to hear your name." Sebastian disposed his load of fruit into the woven basket at her side.

"Mary," the commoner stated. "But it really is unnecessary for you to know my name." They both stood up, Mary balancing her basket at her hip.

"And why would it be unnecessary to know your name?" Sebastian asked, an easy smile on his face. Her tenacity fascinated him.

"Aside from the fact that I am a mere farmer's daughter, with no title to my name," Mary began as she walked closer to him. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. Everything around his vision seemed to be blurring and focusing in on her. "It is not necessary to know the name of your kidnapper."

The following moments were a blur of color and pain. Suddenly, he was on his back with a stabbing pain that traveled from the crown of his head to his lower back. His black Arabian neighed in protest, multiple pairs of feet stomped on the floor, branches snapped, voices barked out unintelligible orders.

Sebastian was yanked off the floor by two strong hands on his arms. The constant motion and his blackened vision gave him a strong sense of vertigo. A material was placed over his head and tied securely around his neck. The air became heavier and it was harder for him to breathe. A rough rope was tied around his hands and the lightness on his left side informed him belatedly that his sword had been taken.

Sebastian was extremely baffled as to why he was simply taking all of these events in. He was being kidnapped! His mind was a mess of thoughts. His body seemed to be unable to receive any orders from his head, not that he was clearheaded enough to think of doing anything at all. Two men had to maintain him on his feet. He heard hooves beating down on the ground and the sound of a wooden carriage. The sound grew louder and louder as the carriage drew nearer and nearer. The wind blew past him as the carriage stopped in front of them.

Sebastian hoped that by concentrating on one thing he would be able to remove the fog that had fallen over his mind. So he kept count of the number of breaths he took. Because of the mask, he had to keep his breaths regulated. Sebastian kept on taking deep, calming breathes as all the commotion continued around him, but he forced himself to stay focused.

Three, four, five- the carriage door was jerked open.

Eight, nine, ten, eleven- various footsteps neared the door. Several creaks from the wood as someone stepped into the carriage.

Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three- Sebastian was lifted from his feet and hauled into the carriage floor.

He hit the wooden surface with a loud and hard thud. The closed door pushed his feet further into the carriage, putting him in an even more uncomfortable position. Besides his better judgment, and his own pride, Sebastian let out a groan of pain. His shoulder was periodically throbbing from the force of the impact.

"Do not fret, Your Grace," Mary's voice called out to him from within the carriage. "The pain will soon dissipate."

No more than a minute had passed when Sebastian began to lose his grip on consciousness.

The ropes around his wrists: that was the first thing he noticed. That and the dulled pain throughout his upper body. Sebastian made sure to keep his breathing even and strained his ears to hear something that would give him a hint as to where he was. He felt soft fabric beneath him. He could easily be on the bench of the carriage or on a coach in some far off cottage. There was no movement so either scenario was likely. He couldn't hear anything in the immediate area. It was improbable that he had been left unguarded. Attempting to escape could get him killed. No, they wouldn't dare kill him. He was worth more alive than dead.

"I wouldn't mind pretending to sleep if I was in your situation, but, sadly, time is not on our side today."

Aside from his better judgment, Sebastian snapped his eyes open. Mary, the girl who had caused him all this trouble, was seated opposite of him. If her angelic voice was not so unmistakable, he would never have recognized her. She was no longer wearing the simple garments of a commoner. Mary now donned a red silk dress that was drawn in around her waist, let out in a full skirt, and had intricate bead designs on the bodice. The air around her was different as well. She sat with her spine straight and gazing down on him with a belittling look. He'd seen that same look only on a handful of people. And suddenly the fog in his head lifted.

"Mary, Queen of Scots," he proclaimed.

Sebastian warily shifted his position to sit up on the bench. He knew her story. Mary, the Queen of Scotland, had been hidden away in a convent until she came of age to take on the throne. Rumors about attempts on her life were as common and taken as such a frivolous matter as the fashion styles the noble ladies wore. She had few to no alliances. The only thing that kept her nation from being devoured by the English lion was her benevolent cousin Elizabeth, Queen of England. It was a sad tale of a solemn queen.

"And here I thought France had better gossip to keep itself occupied than the misfortunes of a queen," Mary proclaimed.

"Now, why would the Queen of Scotland wish to kidnap the Prince of France, heir to the throne? I am sure there are easier ways to commence a war with France," Sebastian inquired.

"So, the rumors over you are true," Mary said, a light smirk on her face. "Sebastian, the bastard prince who cares nothing at all about his realm."

Sebastian winced. Ever since he had taken away his brother's crown, Sebastian had been extremely reluctant to take on any of the responsibilities that being an heir entailed. It felt like an even bigger betrayal to Francis, his half-brother, to go willingly along with this change. The guilt was overbearing at times. And the requirements doubly unwanted. "I care about-"

"If you gave a damn about France, you would have been aware that I am to arrive at the castle tomorrow morning," Mary declared. Sebastian was shocked to hear her declaration but he probably had missed that snippet of information.

"I never wanted the throne," Sebastian tried to defend himself, once more.

"You never wanted the throne?" Mary asked. "Do you think that many people with power wish for it? Of course not! But unlike you, you petulant child, we are not cowards!"

"I am no coward!" Sebastian roared.

"Then take up your responsibilities! Do not run from them. You have an entire country depending on you! Whether you wanted this or not, you must learn to control it. Otherwise, you will be trampled by any neighboring nation or killed on any measly assassin's first try." Queen Mary's voice ran out through the carriage. It carried the weight and power that a queen should have. If he were a soldier, he would go to war for her. The fire in her eyes was now burning brightly. "If you wish to survive, if you wish to leave something to the next generation, then you must learn to hold your head up high and wear your crown with fortitude."

"You make it sound so easy," Sebastian said, as he lowered his head. A girl, younger than him, had been wearing that crown and facing many more troubles than he had for years now. And here she was trying to give him strength, albeit in a very brusque form. "How do you do it?" Sebastian mumbled, not caring whether she heard the question or how broken his voice sounded. For years he was allowed to look at Francis, the former heir to the French throne, with sympathy and a clear lack of envy. Sebastian was able to enjoy his freedom. Now, he had everything taken away from him. Now, he had the weight of an entire country on his shoulders.

The touch of a soft hand sent a shiver up his spine and his head snapped up. Queen Mary was kneeling in front of him, a reassuring hand over his. "I put the needs of my people before my own," Mary replied.

"I wasn't born to be a king," Sebastian admitted. The look in Mary's eyes had changed completely. Instead of a raging fire, it was a calming warmth.

"Sebastian-"

"Bash," he interrupted, his voice admittedly a bit rough from emotion.

"Bash," Mary amended. "King's are made, not born. You seem to be capable of being a great and compassionate leader."

The couple sat there, staring into each other's eyes. Bash would have happily have continued the way he was for hours to come. There was something about those hazel orbs that drew him in. She was capable of both commanding and sympathizing with him. She was the real leader.

"You did not go through this entire ordeal simply to give the future king of France advice, did you?" Bash asked. He was immensely and indescribably pleased with the light pink that tinted her cheeks.

"Of course not," Mary declared as she sat back on the bench, once more the Queen of Scotland. "I came here to speak with you, away from King Henry's influences." Sebastian felt the throbbing that he always felt whenever he was forced to discuss politics. "I am now more keenly aware that this must not be your preferred subject but it is necessary, nonetheless."

"Proceed," Sebastian said, eager to be done with this conversation.

"I have only one reason for coming to France and that is to ask for your hand in marriage."

One.

Two.

Three seconds passed before Bash truly registered what Queen Mary had declared. There was no faltering in her face and no sign that she was about to drop the charade. She was actually serious.

"It may not be the most seductive of proposals you have encountered," Queen Mary continued. Bash made some form of a humored grunt, at that point, which caused Queen Mary's lips to twitch. "But, that is the matter of my visit." Mary stopped and observed him then. His mind must have still had some remnants of that fog from before because he could not comprehend her statement.

"What caused me to be so easily kidnapped?" Bash suddenly asked, remembering his inability to move or think properly.

"Poison on the fruits you so chivalrously helped gather," Mary answered. "I was unaffected, of course." She lifted up her gloved hands as if to further prove her point.

"Of course," Bash replied, not truly caring at the moment.

"I never believed that my proposal would be so blatantly ignored."

An apology was halfway out of his mouth before he realized that she was teasing him. "I am simply unaccustomed to some woman going to such lengths for me," Sebastian retorted.

"I was hoping that it would be worth the trouble," Mary said. Sebastian gave her a smile until his mind caught up with him again.

"I am not the best person to marry. A bastard king is not someone who you want by your side."

"Trust me when I say I have thought long and hard on this matter, and I believe you are what is best for my people," Mary explained, with a calm demeanor.

"Why are you telling me this? You along with everyone else know that my father is hungry for the English throne. Offer to take me as your husband and he will agree. I have no say in the matter," Sebastian declared, getting more and more agitated as he remembered how powerless he was.

"That is why I am giving you a say in the matter," Mary said. "If you refuse my offer now, then I will not speak of this to your father. I will make my visit short and travel to Portugal to ask for an heir's hand in marriage. And that will be the last you hear from me. If you agree to my proposal, then we will debate on the conditions of our engagement and future marriage here. Your father will have no say in the matter."

Sebastian was left temporarily speechless. He would never have believed it possible for someone of such high rank to think it necessary to deal directly with him. He hadn't held the title of heir for more than a quarter of a year. Yet Queen Mary deigned to negotiate the future of her country with him, a bastard.

"I know what it feels like to be without power," Mary said. "I do not wish that feeling on you." There it was again. The compassionate, caring smile and consuming fire of her eyes were back. Suddenly, the thought of her giving one of the Portuguese princes that look did not bode well with him.

"I accept the proposal," Sebastian declared. He did not know whether this was the right choice or whether Francis would have done the same, but it felt right at that moment and that was all he really needed to know. "My only condition is that we live in Scotland after the marriage and, if he pleases, have my brother Francis be regent of France."

"You are loyal to your brother," Mary observed.

"Like I said before, I never wanted the crown," Bash stated.

"I know," Mary replied. "I believe you have kept your father waiting long enough. You will be pleasantly surprised with my proposal tomorrow, I hope."

"Of course," Bash said. Mary leaned over and untied the intricate knot that bound his hands. Bash could never deny the pull he felt towards the woman mere centimeters from him. As soon as his hands were free, Mary called out to her guards to start moving to the outskirts of the forest. The carriage gave a lurch before it started down the rocky path.

"Are you positive of your choice?" Bash asked her.

"After our small encounter, I am pleased to say that I am." Mary gave him a dazzling smile. His heart fluttered and he smiled back at her.

"I hope not to disappoint," Bash said.

Mary was an amiable person when she was not acting the part of a queen. The carriage ride was filled with light banter and easy chatter. But, overall, it was filled with hope. Hope that this engagement and subsequent marriage would be more than a political move. Hope that he would not be a terrible king who would lead his country to failure. Hope that perhaps his freedom hadn't been taken away. Its qualities had simply been changed.

A/N: My small contribution to Valentine's Day. My friend gave me the prompt of a medieval times story and this pairing instantly popped into my head. Hope you enjoyed! Please review!

Happy Valentine's Day!