Author's note: Hello, everyone! This is my very first story for Reign. I finished the 16 episodes in one sitting, so it's safe to say that I am hooked. I was so angered by Mary's decision to marry Francis because, although it's a good political decision, it may not be the best personal decision.
This story takes place down the line, 6 years after the events of 1x16. I hope you enjoy the story! Please feel free to read and review!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, expect the story line that stems from my imagination.
"I don't love you, but I always will" - Poison and Wine, The Civil Wars
The hours were long and the day was warm. Irritably so. A long line of citizens were waiting for their turn to raise their concerns to their King and Queen.
"He must be imprisoned, My Grace! He is a thief, caught red handed. A disgraceful ingrate!" yelled a furious merchant, raising his fist threateningly at the thin man in worn clothes next to him.
"He dismissed me unjustly. I deserved my final wage! My Lord, have mercy. My wife and child will die of starvation!" wailed the accused, desperately begging King Francis for his pity.
Francis pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a heavy sigh. Mary discreetly placed a hand on his arm to offer comfort. He returned a small, tired smile before placing his attention to the conflict in front of him.
"You, thief, have been caught red-handed. The sentence for stealing is clear. Take him away for imprisonment."
The man wailed and resisted as the guard descended upon him and began to take him away. Francis turned his eyes from the scene and sighed once more, weary of the long day that seemed to have no end. Mary looked on in horror, appalled with Francis' indifference, as the arrested man wept for his family, yelling his pleas.
"Francis, please." Mary said, as she grasped her husband's arm once more. "That man committed his crime for his family. It does not absolve his wrong doing, but what will become of them without him? He was wronged too. He does not deserve this."
"Every thief has a reason for stealing, Mary. Poverty, starvation, illness, poor education. You know that! Are we supposed to forgive every single one of them? What are we to do?" Francis whispered back, clearly irritated.
"We are supposed to ensure that they are fed and educated. We are supposed to allow every sing one of our citizens flourish. These are problems made by the flaws in the system." she harshly defended.
"He is one thief." He exasperated.
"He is one thief in a long line of many who have been given unjust sentences under our noses. It was just bread! It may not make much of difference, but it will to his wife and child." Mary countered, her nails digging into his sleeve.
Another sigh from Francis. He could not deny her logic, and could not deny his guilt.
"Wait." He called out to the guard. "Bring him back. And the merchant too."
Both men stood in front of their rulers once more.
"I believe the sentence is too harsh for a thief of bread. And your kind Queen is concerned for your family." Francis said to the weeping man. Then, he turned to the angry merchant.
"I order you to give this man's final wage to his wife and child. And you," Francis returned his gaze to the thief, "Will spend two weeks in imprisonment. Your family can be assured of your safe and swift return."
The thief fell to his knees, tears of joy raining down his filthy cheeks.
"Thank you, My King! Thank you for your mercy!"
Francis gestured for his to rise, a kind smile blessing his gentle features.
"Thank your Queen. She bestowed this mercy upon you." Mary smiled kindly and nodded at the man, who showered her with praise and hysterics. His joyful cries ensued until he was out of sight.
A royal guard stepped forth in front of the royal couple and, with Francis' permission, was gestured forward to privately converse with the King.
"My Lord, they have returned." Francis' eyes went wide, and his heart pounded hard in his chest, threatening to break the bones. With a single nod of his head, he beckoned for them to be sent in. Mary saw her husband's expression of nervousness and fear. But before she could inquire as to who and what, he grasped her hand tightly. A moment passed and quick, sure footsteps echoed through the hall, accompanied by the rustle of armor.
Five soldiers in heavy metal armor walked into the throne hall, grasping their helmets in their hands. Their faces were filthy with dirt and soil, their necks glistening from the heat of long journey. Leading the group was a dark-haired man with crystalline eyes and a face that gave no expression away.
Sebastian, with a split lip, cut cheek, and nearly-shut black eye, and his comrades stopped before the thrones.
"The rebels have been quelled, My Lord. Peaceful negotiations have been made, prisoners have been taken, civilians have been saved. All is well once more." Sebastian hurriedly said, evidently exhausted and wanting to leave immediately. Francis breathed an audible heavy sigh of relief, and flashed a bright smile at his brother and his wife.
"Thank you, Bash. I knew we could depend on you. You have done well for France once again." congratulated the King. He let go of his tense grip on his wife's hand and applauded his soldiers for their job well done. The room followed their King's lead, and the hall was filled with sounds of adoration. Sebastian rolled his eyes and was about turn on his heel to depart, but Francis was not done.
"We must feast and celebrate this victory, brother! You and our soldiers deserve to be rewarded." Francis walked to his half-brother, clasping his hands, still grinning from ear to ear. Sebastian lifted his worn out gaze from the floor to Francis.
"That is kind of you, brother. But it is our sworn duty to defend our nation. It does not require reward. And this has been a tiring time. My men need to retire and rest. A soldier's job is never done." Bash managed to get out, clearly, with much difficulty. Francis threw his head back in laughter.
"Ah, you deprive them of a feast, Bash!" Francis slapped him on the shoulder. Hard. Bash could barely hide his cringe of pain. This Mary noticed, and the worry that bubble through her made her lean forward in her throne. She wanted him to look at her, but he found the floor so interesting.
"Very well then." Bash said, after a moment of thought. He turned to his soldiers. "Tell the others. Tonight, you feast with the King." Cheers of joy were heard from his men. With Bash's permission, they proceeded to exit the hall and spread the news. Sebastian turned back to his brother, who has not let go of his shoulder yet.
"That is very kind of you, Francis. You did not have to." he breathed out his words as if he struggled to find the air to say them.
"But you deserve it. All of you have been gone for weeks now. I doubt you were properly fed. But knowing you, I doubt you will be there tonight, brother." the fair-haired king teased, and raised an eyebrow at Bash. He clapped his brother once again on the shoulder, but Bash could not contain the pain as the first time. He let slip a pained groan, and Francis immediately jumped back as Mary rushed forward.
"Bash, you're badly hurt!" she whispered quietly, rushing to her brother-in-law's side and grasped him tenderly on his other shoulder. She raised her other hand to his untouched cheek, wanting a look at his cut and his black eye. But Bash swatted her hand away and stepped back in an instant, as if her hands were poison and he'd been burned. Mary's hands fell useless at her side.
"Injuries are collected in battle. I've come away with far worse." Bash said as his eyes fell to the ground and he began walking away from his brother and his wife.
"Thank you for your concern, My Grace," He formally thanked the Queen,"And your kindness, my dear brother."as he nodded at Francis. "Don't expect me at the celebration tonight. I'd much rather rest. I'm sure my own wife shall be expecting me soon." Bash hurriedly stated as he exited the room.
The couple looked on as Sebastian made his quick escape from the room. Once he was out of sight, Francis turned to his wife with a chuckle.
"Always a mystery, my brother is. Bravest man I know." Francis said as he returned to his chair and gestured for the next complaint to be raised. But Mary's hand was still warm, and she could not decide if she had managed to capture Bash's warmth on her fingertips, or if her own blood rushed to the spot to meet his skin. But she could not move from her spot, and she felt herself miss him again.