Disclaimer : I don't own Reign, any of its affiliates, or anything I might choose to cross it over with. I only own my OC(s).

Note: This story will loosely follow along the Reign storyline, but with a lot of changes, so definitely AU.

Summary : Mary arrives at court, but something's amiss. Something seems off. Why is she so distant and distracted? What is she hiding? Frary and Bash/OC pairing.

"Mary!"

"It's so good to see you again! You've grown up so well!"

"You look beautiful!"

Did I really?

My heart lurched in my chest, and it took all I had not to curl up in a ball and turn myself into a mass of trembling limbs and hair. The dress I wore felt too tight, but I knew that was actually the tight, under bust corset I wore under the black off the shoulder gown I wore. The dress was pretty, jet black silk with elegant silver sewing along the neckline and hemline. It had long, flowing sleeves, and a long, flowing skirt with a slit up the front, showing the white, flowing skirt I wore underneath.

My hair, the long, almost black locks, had been curled lightly and pushed back out of my face by a heavily jeweled, metallic headband/tiara/headdress, and I wore a single side braid on either side of my head, with a single strand of silver silk braided into each, and silver beads placed sporadically along each braid to highlight the otherwise dark locks.

I wore large, dangling, jeweled earrings, and a heavily jeweled necklace around my neck, and a single signet ring on my finger.

I also wore a midnight blue cloak wrapped around my shoulders, a large, jeweled broach holding it closed around my throat, and I left the hood down, despite the light, chilly breeze that blew around us.

"Mary?"

I stared down the four girls before me, who regarded me with nothing but kindness and friendliness. They ranged from a shorter, slighter bright blonde girl, who was positively petite and glowing with bubbly cheer, to a medium blonde who wore a lot of jewelry, a light brunette with a slender, sylph-like build, and a dark brunette with vibrant blue eyes.

"Mary?"

"Huh?" Shaking my head, I blinked rapidly, and frowned. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"Are you well?" The small blonde spoke up.

I blinked at her. "You-I... Of course! I'm fine." I forced a smile, categorizing their faces and qualities, while matching them to the names I was given. I eyed each of the girls. "Kenna, Greer, Lola! It's so good to see you! Oh, Aylee, we're all together again!" The words rang oddly in my own ears, and I blinked, trying not to show it. Be strong. Be a queen.

They all smiled, cheerful and bubbly and happy. The tension in my chest lightened when none of them showed any sign that I'd gotten the names wrong or out of order, and I felt my smile turn slightly more genuine in return.

Seeing the trunks being off loaded from the carriage behind them, I felt my eyebrows hike into my hairline. I was told of one that liked to show off her fortune. "Oh, Greer! Those can't all be clothes!"

She smiled and turned to look, only to laugh slightly and shake her head, before coming over to me and reaching out. I went rigid as her fingers combed into my hair, only to relax as she played with the curls gently. "There's jewelry and makeup as well. Making up in quantity what I lack in station, I suppose." With a final tug of my hair, she walked back into my peripheral, looking nothing but happy.

We'd only been standing for what felt like minutes before the sound of trumpets aired, booming down the red carpeted path between the two large groups of what I could only guess were the servants and peasants living within the castle, and probably more than a few nobles who were visiting. The sound blasted through the air, echoing a bit as the trumpets at in the distance, and only a moment later, two people walked out of the wide opening in the castle's wall.

The man was older. Even from the distance, I could tell that much. He looked, if I had to guess, in his forties or so. Fifties, maybe, dressed from head to toe in clearly high quality goods and finery. He was bald headed, but for the crown he wore so proudly, with a thin layer of dark brown beard framing the lower half of his face. He was tall, lean, and appeared to be fit, despite being a king. His expression appeared to be stern, if politely indifferent. An expression matched by the stunning woman at his side.

She looked no older than her early thirties, perhaps. I pegged her to be older, though, because either she was the queen or the beloved mistress I'd heard so much about. Both of which had children around my age. She, too, was tall and slender. Fit, slight, sylph-like, with dark brown hair that fell to maybe an inch or two beyond her shoulders, which was partly pulled back out of her face. She was beautiful, wearing a blue-green gown of some shade I couldn't think of the name of, with a heavy dark cloak on over top, and she walked arm-in-arm with the king.

"That must be King Henry, but is that Catherine?"

The large, golden crown, and exquisite finery all over the man before me screamed 'king'! The fact he was walking down the center of the large red carpet and people and guards alike were bowing to him as he passed only proved me right.

I watched them approach rapidly. They weren't running, or even jogging, but their movements were quick, strong and purposeful. There was no taking their time, or moving slowly or sedately. Maybe he was in a hurry, and had just planned his walk to be just shy of looking like it. Regardless, as I watched them approach, both of them looking shades of polite, bored and indifferent, I couldn't help the way my eyes locked on the king's face.

Or the hot, sharp, distinctly uncomfortable feeling twisting in my stomach, until I began to wonder if it was actually possible to puke at the sight of a person.

Was this...hatred...or just a very powerful anger?

And why was I feeling it?

"No. They're still waiting on her. That's Diane de Poitiers, the king's mistress." Kenna's voice sounded with intrigue.

I turned to her, frowning. De Poitiers? Something tickled in the back of my mind. De Poitiers. De Poitiers. Why is that familiar? Tilting my head a little, I turned back to the group, immediately noting how a man appeared down at the door way, and began to walk with the same sense of confidence, pride and strength.

I knew I needed to be strong and hold back. I had to be a queen! Not just 'some girl'. People expected things of me. I had responsibilities, but as I looked upon him, I felt the first twinges of...something undeniably warm and...and... I... I wanted more of it. I wanted to know what it was. There was something about him that pressed at the walls in my mind. A small pain made me wince, and my eyes squinted against it, but I struggled not to close them. I wanted to see him. He was the one whose mere presence was pressing against those walls in my head, threatening to...to...

"Is that Francis? He's gorgeous!"

Yes, he was!

I swallowed thickly, suddenly finding myself both incredibly excited and uncomfortable at the same time. Was this my betrothed? Such a beautiful man! Was he kind, as well? Would he care for me?

Wrong. Wrong. It's all wrong.

I watched him walk past the king and mistress, stopping a few feet ahead of them, and giving me a good look at him as he seemed to eye us as well. He wore dark brown leather pants with knee high black boots on over top, with a...well, if I was being honest, a rather unflattering leather doublet that was far too short and frilly around the bottom to suit his long, lean, wiry frame, or the strong, masculine face. He had a shock of short, dark brown hair on the top of his head, and a thin, dark brown beard framing long, thin lips, and a fair complexion. His eyes... He was so far away, like the others, that I couldn't see the color of his eyes, but even as he looked at me, I found myself picking out the fact his eyes were some kind of light color.

Blue.

Blinking, I felt my eyes narrow and I frowned, even as he raised an eyebrow my way, before turning to take his place behind his father, patiently, and regarding me with a curious tilt of his head once he turned back around.

Where did that come from?

I struggled to think.

Had the nuns told me? They basically described the royal family, but had they mentioned eye color? Had I listened? Did they even touch on the brunette before me? Information piled into my head, jumbling up into a mess, before I blinked as voices sounded, forcing my gaze off the increasingly amused-looking man before me. I turned to the girls at my side as they chatted slightly.

"I think that's Sebastian de Poitiers, the king's bastard." Kenna was looking at the others with a look of intrigue. "I hear the king favors him."

De Poitiers.

Again.

If my eyes narrowed any more, they'd be closed, but as a headache settled into my forehead, I found myself wincing sharply and reaching up a hand to massage at my temple. It was quickly followed by my other at my other temple, where I sat massaging them slightly as I struggled to push past the throbbing pain.

"Mary? Are you well?"

"...Yeah." I shook my head. "Yes. It's just a headache." I forced my hands down. I need to be strong.

This is wrong. All of this. I don't belong here.

I must be strong! Scotland needs me!

The voices swirled in my head, before I shoved them aside with annoyance and heaved a deep breath, turning back to the groups as another voice sounded, echoing around us.

"Announcing her royal Highness, Queen Catherine!"

Once more, almost unbidden, my eyes flew to him. 'Sebastian de Poitiers'. A beautiful name for a beautiful man. A man...I could not afford to be intrigued by, or curious with, since he apparently was not my betrothed after all.

...Damn!

I noticed him watching us, or rather, it appeared he was watching me. His eyes were narrowed. Gone was the amusement. Now he looked almost curious, confused. Then, forcing my eyes off him once more, I watched as a shorter, more sturdily built redheaded woman came marching down the path. She wore elaborate, fancy dress as well, and a crown around her head, but unlike the intrigue and bored indifference on the faces of the others, her expression was cold and calculating.

The same cold, sharp, twisting, angry feeling in my gut hit, but it was a thousand times worse than it was before.

This was hatred!

There was no doubt about it!

I hated this woman, for some reason.

In fact, her mere presence had me standing straighter and squaring my shoulders. Gone was any sign of weakness or pain. I hardened my gaze, before remembering to mask it behind my own mask of cool indifference at her approach.

She moved ahead of the other woman, the mistress, and stood a few feet before her, haughtily, without a single thought to the fact she'd moved before the king as well. She stood with her hands folded before her, waiting, and behind her and the king, and his mistress and son, stood a tall, intimidating figure in black, with a heavy black beard and shaggy, thick, black hair.

"Mary."

There was a touch to my arm.

Turning to look, I caught Lola staring off into the distance, and I followed her gaze, only to feel my eyes widen.

A beautiful man with shaggy, wavy blonde hair falling about his ears came walking forward. I watched him walk over, looking almost bored and unhappy, before he looked at me. There was a moment of confusion as he hesitated in his steps, before walking over with wide eyes, smiling slightly. He was tall and lean, wiry...just like his brother and father, seemingly, and dressed in black leather pants, a black jacket and an off-white shirt underneath.

Nowhere near as dressy as his father or brother, but still quite fetching in the sharpness of the color, the fit, and how it complimented his sun kissed skin, blonde hair, dirty blonde beard, and ocean blue eyes. Was this 'Francis'? The way he approached wasn't to be expected of an assassin or any kind of killer, or even a commoner, considering all others were keeping a healthy distance. All other royals were down at the carpet, but a glance showed no more joining them, though most eyes had drifted to the handsome blonde before me.

This...was...Francis...

My betrothed.

I looked back to him, and unlike his brother, I felt no tugging or pressure or anything. "I don't believe it." No fluttering in my chest. No 'butterflies'. No weakness or blushing. This was my betrothed...and I felt nothing at the sight of him. Double damn!

He smiled at me and bowed at his waist, clearly eyeing me intensely. "Your Grace."

I shook my head. I hate titles! "Please, call me Mary." I nodded my head and curtsied ever so slightly. Though I was a queen, and he a prince, I was also a visitor in his country.

He nodded. "Francis."

We stared at each other. I knew he was looking at me, but I kept waiting for something. A familiarity, an attraction, something. Nothing happened. After a long moment, I realized he was probably waiting for something, and I scrambled before looking past him, to the very massive castle behind him. "The castle seems bigger, is that possible?"

"Is that so surprising?"

Yes.

I shook my head.

He nodded, looking almost amused, and semi-turned from me, towards the crowds, before pulling a long arm from where it hid behind his back, and gesturing towards the carpet before us. "Shall we?"

I shivered, struggling to ignore this growing sense of unease that hit me, and nodded, before stepping forward. He began to walk, and I immediately fell into step beside him, following him towards the welcoming group, but despite his friendly appearance, and the welcoming appearances of those around me, I couldn't shake the unease about me. Nothing was right. All seemed wrong, and I wanted desperately to go back to the Convent

I did not want to be here, surrounded by all these people, so many of which I didn't know if I could trust!

Written : Feb 1, 2014

Hope you like it.

R+R please.

Thank you.

Kitten