title: honey, you can be my hurricane
pairings: mary/francis, bash/kenna, mentions of mostly onesided mary/bash and maybe more in future chapters
notes: So this story is basically a collection of short oneshots, both MF and KB. I've been dying to write some more MF for months, but I am also really into KB right now, (so many possibilities there, guys, so many!) so I thought why not kill two birds with one stone? I was going to wait until I had more little stories and post it as one big oneshot but then I realized that I really wanted to get this out before the next episode airs, and with school soon coming to an end, I don't always have much time to write. So I decided to just post the one I do already have and then add more later. I already have a few ideas on what I want to write next, I just need to write them (and find time to do so.) For easier understanding, the first little story is always going to be MF and the second one is always KB. Also, in this first one there isn't really any MF or KB interaction, these are just Mary's and Bash's respective thoughts on their spouses and their marriages. I promise the next few installations will actually have MF and KB interactions as well. The title is from Midnight Cinema's "Hurricane". Hope you enjoy.
disclaimer: I don't own anything.

superstition

I.

(around 1.16)

Mary makes a conscious decision never to trust Nostradamus' visions again and she intends to stick to that.

After she had almost lost her chance at true happiness, turned the French Court upside down for nothing at all, caused a mess no one had seen coming and broke two men's hearts at some point or another over the span of a few months, all, all for nothing, it's a sensible, logical decision. A decision that should be made and isn't too hard to make. One fit for a Queen, because Queens aren't supposed to depend on childish things like prophecies and death visions, and one that delights Francis when she tells him about it.

(She promises him she's thoroughly done with these silly nonsenses and Nostradamus and superstition, and he breaks into that familiar, comforting smile he only seems to reserve for her, and kisses her gently. She doesn't think about Nostradamus or anyone else for the rest of the night.)

Nostradamus' predictions have proven to be false just as many times as they were true, and that's why he's unreliable. How are they to know when he is right or wrong? After all, he was wrong about the one vision which mattered to Mary the most and it caused a public unrest. That's why she can't allow herself to put her trust in him or his visions anymore.

And that's why she's so skeptical when he comes to inform her of the newest developments, his latest vision. She's wary and disbelieving, but also very mad, her voice betraying that fury, demanding the explanations that she, as a Queen and wife, deserves. "You expect me to believe that Francis is still destined for death - because he married me - when you were already wrong about it once before?"

"I was never wrong," he shakes his head, his eyes sad and sympathetic, guilty even, but it doesn't quell her anger. She's far too tired, has far too many other problems to deal with to have any patience for this nonsense right now. "The vision I had of you and the Dauphin, it wasn't complete. I was only allowed to see the rest of it after your wedding. And he will die, of ear infection, it seems."

"Ear infection," she repeats, her voice softer, quieter as she remembers the story of Francis falling into the ice cold water not long ago when he was out in the woods with his brother, the pit of her stomach frozen with sudden fear. "When?"

"A year after your wedding, I believe." Mary lets out an audible gasp. A year, that's far too soon, is her first thought. Then she tries to stay calm and logical, remind herself of the promise she made. Far too soon, yes, but it's okay because she doesn't believe him, does she?

He has been right about certain things before.

No. She shakes her head to clear it of that little voice whispering, trying to make her worry unnecessarily. She has made a promise to Francis and she owes it to him to keep it. Especially now, when she's already keeping a big secret from him, one he'd certainly deserve to know.

"You are very brave to come to me with this," she says, partly just to change the subject. "Catherine will have you executed, no doubt, for your mistake."

"Then I will die with a clear conscience," he answers in a calm, collected tone, one that makes it obvious he has thought this through and made a conscious decision to tell the Queen of Scots about his vision. (Just like she had made a conscious decision to not believe him ever again, she keeps reminding herself. But it's hard to stay rational when your husband's life might depend on it and the choices you make.) Mary has no doubt that he's accepted his fate and he's ready to die if she were to throw him in front of the lions. Catherine, at the moment, has no real power to manipulate the King who can't be trusted about anything, but Mary is sure the Medici Queen has other ways to eliminate someone unwanted. It doesn't have to be an execution ordered by the King. Nostradamus could be dead by tonight.

And she could do it, tell Catherine, remove Nostradamus from the picture so she won't have a constant reminder dangled in front of her face every time she looked at him, but what good would it do? The Queen would surely believe him and grow to hate her again. Who knows how far she would go this time to save her son from a fate that is all Mary's fault? Another civil war with her mother in law is the last thing she needs, especially now, with the French Court already being in such a fragile state, people terrified of Henry and his madness, or plotting against him. The country couldn't handle two Queens out for each other's blood again.

And more importantly, Mary isn't a callous killer. Nostradamus doesn't deserve death - however misguided he may be, he only means to help. She knows he truly believes in the things he sees but that doesn't mean they are indeed true. Perhaps he is even a little crazy. And although he causes her more problems to add to her list, Mary doesn't wish for him to die.

Coming to this realization, she shakes her head in answer. "No. No, you won't because you won't tell Catherine, and neither will I." It simply isn't necessary. Mary knows Nostradamus is wrong about this, but the Queen might not agree. She's known Nostradamus for years and she has for more faith in him than Mary will ever have. It would only upset her, and Francis for the matter, and there is no reason for that.

Mary tells herself it's the right decision, the only decision she could make.

"As you wish, your Majesty."

He believes the conversation to be over because he starts backtracking towards the door, but Mary stops him with a question. "Why did you tell me this? Suppose I believed you, what could I possibly do?" She doesn't understand his motivations. She could have been blissfully happy with her husband, at least in that one short year they would get to spend together, and not constantly waiting for the moment he dropped dead in front of her.

Not that she believes Nostradamus. She doesn't. She just wants to understand why he would trouble her with this horrible burden.

"I just wanted to prepare you, Majesty. I owed the truth to you because it was my mistake."

But Mary just wishes he didn't feel like he owed any truths to her. Because as determined as she is to ignore this obviously false prophecy, somewhere in the back of her mind something whispers: He was right about his visions as many times as he was wrong.

II.

(about two months after 1.16)

Bash doesn't concern himself with things like fate, prophecies, Nostradamus and superstition. It was always a game played by people with higher social status than him, people who had nothing better to amuse themselves with than visions of the future. And Bash always had plenty of other things to amuse himself with at Court.

Not like Queen Catherine, apparently. He was once told by someone that being Diane and Henry's bastard son wasn't the sole reason the Medici woman hated him. As it turned out, before he was born, Nostradamus had warned Catherine that one day he would be a threat to her son's inheritance and crown, even though Catherine had no children of her own at the time. Nevertheless, it had unsettled Catherine greatly, and even more so after Francis had been born and it became obvious that the King still preferred his older son despite the birth of the young prince. Bash supposes it's almost funny how that prediction came to be true in the end, especially when he never felt any desire to take the throne at all.

But Nostradamus was right and Bash knew Catherine continued to rely on his visions time and time again, and he knew even Mary grew to believe them at one point. In that months that they were engaged, she had truly believed she would cause Francis' death if she married him, and Bash had wanted to believe it himself because it would have justified stealing his brother's fiance, a woman he loved. In truth, he didn't know what to think.

It all seemed so silly, so juvenile and childish, but Mary was anything but childish and she trusted Nostradamus so he did too. Maybe he even grew to believe him in his own way. That's what he told himself, but mostly he was just in the middle. He didn't want to be forced to think about it, he didn't wish to form an opinion and pick a side. (Maybe because he knew his opinion and the side he wanted to be on would differ.) And in the end it didn't matter, because Nostradamus changed his mind (how could anyone even trust him after that?) and the engagement fell apart. And he doesn't have to pick sides anymore but Bash wonders: why didn't Nostradamus predict his father going crazy? Why didn't he see the Darkness looming in the woods? Why would anyone still believe him after it became obvious that his visions change as quickly as the wind does? If there is truly a man who can see the future, Bash doesn't think it is Nostradamus.

But maybe he's just biased and bitter. For Nostradamus is always going to be just one of those people who ultimately cost him Mary. And if possible, he would like to avoid those people - that is why he's not too pleased to see the man who declared himself a seer approach him while Bash is standing aside, minding his own business, observing the people dancing and chattering and drinking and laughing around him. He isn't partaking and he doesn't want to be. He has a lot on his mind already without Nostradamus' meddling. Bash would just like to be left alone for the night, but unfortunately, he isn't that lucky.

The other man greets him with his name and Bash manages to bring a politely fake smile to his lips. "Nostradamus," he nods. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

If he can hear the barely disguised distaste in his words, - and Bash is sure he can - he doesn't comment on it. "I saw you dancing with the Lady Kenna earlier. I am happy to see that you are getting along better now."

Bash wants to laugh in his face. Kenna? Is he truly here to talk about her? The man can't be serious. Unless he feels guilty for playing a part, a huge part, in Mary running back to Francis without a second thought, leaving him with nothing and eventually being forced to marry Kenna because of it. But Bash doubts that's the case. The whole court seems to be quite taken with the love story that is Mary and Francis, especially now that they have announced she is finally with child, and if he is being honest with himself, even he can see that it was always going to be Francis for Mary, no matter who she would have married. After months of denial and suffering and convincing himself that he ever stood a chance, that he just needed a little more time and she would have picked him, Bash can finally see the truth. He's almost glad because it's the first step on the road of recovery. And now that she is expecting his brother's son, Bash desperately wants to move on.

"Kenna, yes. She and I finally reached a mutual understanding." And it's true. After the inevitable, initial dislike for one another wore off, - which was always more about being forced to wed rather than really hating each other - they both realized that they didn't wish to be enemies for the rest of their lives. It would be exhausting and tiring, emotionally, physically, and so both decided they could at least try to be friends. Bash knows Kenna is neither the best, nor the worst wife he could have, and although Kenna is still - and would always be - bitter about his nonexistent social rank and the enemies he's made at Court thanks to the stunt he pulled with Mary, he knows even she's aware Henry could have married her off to a much worse man. Perhaps someone with a title but someone who would not be so lenient towards her affairs.

That's the other agreement they made: infidelity would be tolerated on both parts, as long as neither of them paraded around with their lovers in front of the other. He didn't wish to know which men she was cheating on him with, and she felt the same. It's a reasonable settlement, one that makes him feel comfortable in their marriage, which is certainly not a bad thing. They still bicker, more often than not, but it isn't the same furious and hateful fights which used to plague their relationship in the first few months, and Bash is grateful for that. It's much easier to be on good terms with Kenna. He actually almost enjoys the small arguments they get into - it keeps him on his toes and makes things interesting. He would be lying if he said he didn't sometimes try to make her mad on purpose just because of that.

Nostradamus nods, as if he knows exactly what Bash is talking about, and the way he looks at him then unsettles Bash. Suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable, he tugs on the collar of his dress shirt, watching the other man cautiously. It's almost pitying, the look in his eyes, like he knows something nobody else does, a big secret nobody should be allowed to know. That, and his next words, make Bash realize what Nostradamus is implying and it honestly makes his blood boil. "You better hold onto that one, Sebastian. She's more special than you think and she won't always be around."

Bash scoffs. The man is dedicated, he gives him that. The way he presents himself, the way he speaks almost make him pause. But it is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, what he is implying. He can't just go around telling people without solid evidence that their spouses would die, so you better prepare yourself, better hold onto them, because it won't last. Mary let herself believe it and it caused a mess with far reaching consequences, only for Nostradamus to change his mind a few months later. No, Bash would not give credit to Nostradamus' visions, not after everything he witnessed firsthand. And even the notion that he would ever fall for Kenna seems laughable to him. If there is a woman he will ever come to love after Mary, it will not be Kenna. No, it would be someone much more similar to Mary in her personality, he is sure of that. And Kenna, she couldn't be more unlike the Queen of Scots.

So it's easy for him to laugh at Nostradamus' warning and go on like nothing happened. It's easy to forget the conversation ever took place. He won't remember his warning for years to come, not even when he begins to develop feelings for his wife, not when he's informed by a doctor that she might not make it through childbirth. But afterwards, Nostradamus would look at him with sad, sad eyes and shake his head slowly, as if to say, "I've tried to warn you" and then Bash would remember. And he'd have to wonder again: was Nostradamus ever wrong about anything in his life before?

Guys, Bash is hard to write... Don't judge, I tried.