"Bash"... just saying his name made Mary feel warm inside. She was in Sebastian's room, pacing back and forth in front of the fire while he watched her lazily, his head leaning back on one of the sofas in front of the fireplace, sipping a bottle of wine. She had come to his room in a moment of utter desperation. She needed to be comforted, and she knew Sebastian was the only person who could do that. He had seemed surprised to see her standing there, but had let her enter nonetheless. She had been pacing for about five minutes now when the silence had become deafening and she had said his name. He pulled his head up and looked at her with those eyes of his. Those eyes that she could get lost in for ages at a time. They were so beautiful and they shone with a kind of mischevious light, like they were full of secrets that they would never share.
They were part of what had attracted Mary to Sebastian in the first place.
But then there was Francis to think about. It wasn't that she didn't love Francis. She did, it was just that he had Olivia and most of the time she'd been here he'd been either avoiding her or treating her like she was just a country, not a human being. The few times he had been loving to her or shown even an inkling of any emotion, apart from irritation and anger for her was when he kissed her. Those few times were all she hung on to, craving more. But then there was Bash. Who had always been kind to her, since the very first day she arrived, when he went into the woods that posed the threat of demonic creatures and bloodthirsty Pagan worshippers around every corner only to return her dog.
She had kissed Sebastian in a moment of weakness, a moment of vulnerability and drunken heartache. So why was it that she was unable to stop thinking about how soft his lips had been on hers, and how he had kissed her a second time?
Thinking about it made her feel like a whore. She had kissed Francis and then she had kissed Bash, very soon after. But Francis had also done "something" with Olivia and it made her heart ache to think about what exactly "something" might be.
Living with the nuns seemed like a lifetime ago. An easier lifetime. Back then, she hadn't known it would be this hard. She didn't know what heartache was, having never experienced it but now it seemed that she had become all too familiar with it.
Apart from the heartache, she hadn't had to worry about an influential, dangerous Queen who for some reason seemed to hate her, and it seemed as though she had no limits when it came to destroying Mary and Francis' already almost non-existent relationship.
Bash was still looking at her, quirking his eyebrows and waiting for her to continue.
"Bash" she said again.
"Bash, I..." she said once more.
She started to cry.
Sebastian, who had just been raising the bottle of wine to his lips once more stopped cold. Mary, crying? Mary Stuart, the Queen of Scots, crying? She had never cried, at least not in front of him and he was shocked.
Quickly recovering, he got up from the sofa and hugged her.
The hug seemed to startle her, she had not expected him to react this way. Maybe to comfort her from the sofa, but to hug her? The gesture, although touching -no pun intended- was inappropriate. They both knew that, but they couldn't be bothered to care.
Mary sobbed into his shirt, her hands desperately clutching at the fabric of his shirt, holding him close to her, afraid to let go, afraid of the vulnerability she would feel if she let go. And Bash held back. He gripped her waist as fiercely as he could, holding her as if she was made of glass. This was what he had been longing for. To hold her and to be held by her. Then why did he feel like such a traitor?
God damn his brother.
"Shh, Mary, what's wrong?" He said in as gentle a tone as he could.
Mary froze in his arms and when he looked down at her, she was looking up at him. They stared at each other for a few -maybe more, Mary couldn't tell and neither could Bash- moments, and - then Bash kissed her.
He pressed his lips to hers, gently at first but soon more desperately and wildly. Their arms tightened around each other and Mary gripped his hair.
Sebastian felt complete. There was no other way to describe it, but that one word seemed to fit perfectly. He felt full and complete and he had never felt this happy.
To Hell with his brother.
Mary was the first to pull away, gasping for breath. Her hair had fallen from its intricate braid and fell in front of her eyes. She reached up to put it back and Bash watched on in wonder. Wonder of how she could still look so beautiful.
"Do you regret this?" He asked. He had to ask, although he knew the answer and he knew it would break him to hear her say it.
"I..." She searched his eyes for a moment and just when Bash was going to give up hope, she said
"No. No I don't":
What about Francis?" He asked her, attempting to -and failing to- care about how his little brother would feel if he knew.
"I don't care about him! He has Olivia and all he's done since I got here is treat me like dirt! Our union would be a political one, not one borne of love and he knows that. He's in love with Olivia and I with you" Mary finished off, flashing a quick glance to Sebastian, whose arms were still around her.
"And I with you, Mary Stuart" Bash said, smiling at her. He felt as if he would never stop smiling.
Mary kissed him again and as he pulled her closer to him she realised she had never felt this safe since she had arrived at the castle.