Hey! First, thank you so, so much for your feedback on my other stories. It means so much. I promise, I am still working on Something More and Penance, but I needed a small break, so I wrote this. I think I will do a second chapter because I have an idea for a follow-up, but that's all I'm planning.

Canon divergent from after Bash returned Stirling to Mary (no one has tried to drug or rape her). She's been in court for about a week.

Another party, Mary thought with a sigh. She had yet to get reaccustomed to the lavishness of court life. It was a jolt after six years of nondescript clothing, bland meals, and a quiet, sedentary lifestyle. Mary tried to keep herself from feeling overwhelmed. It was quite thrilling, she could admit, every time she twirled around in a new dress or put on a specially made crown, every time she was bowed to or was announced with fanfare, but it never stopped. The corsets pinched terribly and deterred her from sampling all of the succulent smelling food that was on constant display, the crowns were heavy and gave her headaches, the shoes were downright painful to the point of near immobility and the endless line of dry nobles she was required to be pleasant towards tiring. Mary knew better than to complain most of the time, but sometimes it got the better of her mood and today was one of those days.

Mary had been doted on as a child, but now she was to be treated as an adult. Or she was supposed to. She felt more like a dressed up pawn and she knew she needed to find her footing fast. Her frustration and impatience were mounting. She needed to get Francis on her side to help her secure their alliance, but early encounters were not encouraging. Where was the young boy she had been so fond of as a child?

Mary wasn't used to teenage boys. She had asked her ladies for advice, but they were used to average boys, not a prince and all the entitlement that came with him. Neither Catherine nor Henry were going to be of any help. Surely there was something she could do to engage Francis, weaken him just a bit.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Francis' half-brother, Bash. He was a different puzzle altogether. Not a servant she could order around nor a peasant she might intimidate. Privileged, but without status. Favored by the king yet largely inconsequential. A king's bastard was a nobody. How was she to interact with such a person?

The problem was, Bash didn't give her a chance to figure it out. He approached her with such openness and ease, he drew her in despite herself. He made her feel welcome and wanted. He didn't treat her as a queen and she found this comforting rather than insulting. She saw him as a friend, yet it happened so quickly, sometimes she wasn't sure. He didn't feel like a friend the way her ladies did. But he was close with Francis and that's what mattered at the moment. He would know better than anyone what would appeal to his brother.

At present, Bash's affable demeanor seemed to be charming the pretty young courtisane with whom he was speaking. She was laughing and boldly clutching his arm. Bash appeared more amused than engaged with her. Certainly not as present as he always was in their conversations. Not that it was a contest.

Suddenly, he caught sight of her and Mary immediately looked away in embarrassment. But there was no reason to be embarrassed. She was a queen and she could do whatever she pleased. Well, within reason, that is.

"Mary?" Startled from her thoughts, Mary turned to face her lady. "Are you still troubled over Francis?"

"I don't know what I am at this moment," she admitted. She knew it was common for men to have multiple women at their disposal, but that didn't make it any more palatable and she had hoped for more from Francis. At least try to make their relationship work before turning to others - in such a public way especially.

"I think he just needs some time," Greer soothed. "You've been out of his realm for so long. It will be an adjustment suddenly being in a committed relationship. For you as well."

Mary smiled faintly. Greer was always trying to soften the hurt of others. "It's not as though he didn't know this was coming."

"He'll fall for you, Mary. How could he not?"

"I don't know. I don't know what kind of girls he's used to, but it certainly isn't a queen. He's shown nothing but disregard for me. He's been dismissive and rude and-" She stopped herself and shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He's who I need to marry."

"You were quite taken with each other as children. That connection will return," Greer promised.

"When?" Mary demanded. "I need him to warm up to the idea of marrying me as quickly as possible so he'll push the king for a wedding date and our alliance can be sealed."

"You're beautiful and charming and intelligent. It's won't take long."

"I'm not sure those qualities are of importance to him."

Concerned, Greer put her hand on Mary's back in support. "It's not like you to be so negative."

Mary looked at her friend fully for the first time and saw the worry on her face. "You're right,"
she said with a nod. "It's been a long day. I think I need some fresh air to clear my head."

"Would you like company?"

"No, thank you. Go! Enjoy the party. I'll be most displeased if my sour mood ruins your evening."

Greer nodded. "I'll see you in the morning." Mary hugged her in gratitude. She knew she was fortunate to have such a friend.

Mary scanned the scene again. Bash seemed to have left and Francis was still immersed in lively chatter with a group of young women on the other side of the hall. She had half a thought to march over there and give Francis a piece of her mind, but her feet protested and Mary made her way to the outdoor patio so she could remove her shoes for a few moments instead.

"Is this going to be a habit?" a voice asked as Mary kicked her shoes off.

"Good God, you scared me!" she hissed as she spun around.

"Forgive me, Your Grace," Bash replied as he stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I needed to escape the hot air for a moment." He raised a brow at her. "And you needed to ... escape your shoes?"

Mary grew red. She must look like a child with her antics. "I'm contemplating an edict requiring all shoemakers to wear their own shoes for a week before they can sell them."

Bash grinned broadly at her. "That would be quite a sight." He nodded towards the hall. "I thought you enjoyed a good party"

"Not as much as you it would appear."

"The food is quite good," he admitted. "I must give Catherine credit on that front. She has exceptional chefs."

"I was speaking more to your company."

"I'm afraid I have no companies," he said as he smiled slyly.

"Really? I've heard you have many," Mary replied, ignoring his word play. "Was the young blonde you were speaking with not one?"

He sidled up next her at the neatly maintained hedges. "Your Grace, I must warn you, your watchfulness of your brother-in-law could be misconstrued," he teased, his eyes shining brightly.

"You are yet to be my brother-in-law and I'm doubting that you ever will," she said crossly.

Bash furrowed his brow. "Is that what's troubling you?"

"The fact that my fiancé barely acknowledges my existence? That he shows interest in every girl but me? That he's been condescending and hurtful in our conversations? That he stands in the way of the security of my country? Yes, that's troubling me," Mary said bitterly.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "Those seem like good reasons."

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm rather frustrated and not very good company at the moment."

"I'll take your company over anyone else's."

Mary met Bash's eyes and saw nothing but raw honesty. She forgot all about her aching feet, sour mood and the hall filled with chatter just steps away. He had a talent for making the world melt away. "Would you kiss me?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" he laughed.

The young queen blushed painfully at her words. He must think her mad. "What I mean is ... well ..." Bash's amused expression was only flustering her more. "Francis ... he's used to more experienced girls and I ... I thought maybe you ..."

Bash began to sober. "You're serious?"

Mary was afraid to speak again. She must look pathetic, but she wouldn't back down now. She was a queen, right? She could ask for anything, even demand it. "I would consider it a favor," she replied as evenly as she could, standing tall and acting as though it were a common request.

She was determined not to look away as he studied her expression. "Mary, don't compromise yourself."

"What choice have I? What else should I do?"

"If you give Francis some time-"

She wasn't going to argue with him. She was tired of arguing - with Francis, with herself, with everyone. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"

Bash glanced back at the party that continued on behind them and Mary realized she had been far too loud. His attention returned to her and he hesitated. What is was he was thinking or preparing to say, Mary wasn't sure, but her impatience got the better of her and before she knew what she doing, she had thrust her lips upon his. Bash froze and Mary wasn't sure what to do. Just move your lips, she told herself, and as she did so, Bash slowly began to engage, his body relaxing.

Their lips explored each other with tenderness, their pace tantalizingly slow. His lips were so soft and Mary felt as though her body might melt. She hadn't expected this. Even the roughness of his scruff against her skin was arousing and his callused hand gentle as it cradled her cheek. The kisses became firmer and Mary found herself wanting to explore more than just his mouth.

Bash pulled her flush against him, his arms wrapping around her. Mary felt heat rise through her body, startling her with its strength. This was much more than she had bargained for. She felt invigorated and weak all at once as she clung to him. This was kissing? Such an innocent, simple word. It hardly hinted at its power. Would every kiss be like this?

Every kiss. Every kiss that wouldn't be with Bash because he wasn't her fiancé. Mary's heart sank and she abruptly broke off the kiss. "I ... we ..." He was staring at her again with those magical eyes. There was such a gentleness in them. She felt so safe when his gaze was upon her.

"It's okay," he murmured. He knew.

"I'm sorry, Bash." Reluctantly, she untangled herself from him.

He smiled sadly. "I'm not."

It finally dawned on her the position she had put him in and Mary felt ill. What a fool she was. Slowly, she backed away from him. "I should go."

He nodded but said nothing.

Quickly, she slipped her shoes back on. She wanted to flee and stay at the same time. She wanted to say something that would make this okay, but her mind swarmed with conflicting thoughts and emotions. Mary strode back towards the party feeling as though she had just lit a fuse that she didn't know how to snuff out. The question was, did she even want to?

Thank you for reading! Comments would be greatly appreciated!