A/N: I listened to two songs while writing this. I highly recommend that you listen to them when reading this story, as it totally enhances the experience IMO. This is a one-shot. Please enjoy and leave a review if you liked it! Mary/Conde, set after 2x07.

She hadn't slept well for days. Faced with an empty bed night after night, Mary missed the familiar weight on the other half of her bed. She hadn't spoken to Francis in days after they had argued about her infertility, Lola and the baby, and the edict. The last straw was when he told her to go back to Scotland, which she replayed in her head night after night, tears streaming down her face.

Rumors were spreading around the palace that Mary was infertile and would never be able to produce an heir, and that Francis was reportedly spending more and more time with Lola instead of Mary, pushing her away instead of keeping her close. One of Mary's maids spotted Lola making two separate trips to meet with Francis in private chambers for unknown reasons, but Mary suspected the worst. She slept fitfully, and woke up at the slightest sound, desolate without someone next to her.

(Play: Green Eyes, by Coldplay)

It was one night that she woke up to the sound of a solitary guitar being strummed on the grounds well past midnight, and as she approached her window she saw a figure far away by the water, who began to sing to himself. She hadn't heard music on the grounds at night for years, not since she was a little girl frolicking on the grounds during the summer nights, without any responsibilities or cares in the world. How times had changed, she thought.

Curious, and dressed only in her silk nightgown and a robe, Mary made her way down to the grounds, assuring her guards that she would be okay and merely needed to find something. She stepped barefoot onto the grass carrying a single candle walking towards the solitary singer, in the midst of a passionate song.

As he watched her lovely face illuminated by the light of the fireworks the night of Claude's return, he saw not his queen, but a lonely girl, trying to bear the burden of a country on her shoulders, separated from everyone she ever cared about, alone in her struggle.

And it dawned on him in that moment when realized he was watching not the fireworks, but her the entire time, and knew he was heading for trouble. He realized that when she looked at him, his breath caught in his throat, and when she wasn't looking at him, he was fixated on her. He couldn't help himself. Everything about her was so alluring. Her passion for doing the right thing, for protecting everyone, and the goodness of her soul sparked something in him, something that made him want to become better.

He had no idea how to feel. She was perfect, but she was someone else's.

So he sang. Alone, at night, by the water, far enough where nobody could hear him and late enough where nobody should be awake, where he was free to be alone with his thoughts and his guitar.

"I came here with a load,

And it feels so much lighter,

Now that I've met you-"

He was interrupted by the sound of soft feet rustling dry grass behind him, and he turned to find his queen, the music faltering.

"Lord Conde? What are you doing outside at such an unholy hour?" Mary asked.

"I could ask the same of you, your Majesty. It isn't proper for a queen to be wandering her grounds at this hour – it's quite unsafe," replied Conde.

"I heard singing… and I don't really know, I just had to find out where it came from. I haven't heard singing on the grounds at night since I was a little girl, and it just reminded me of happier days," she said.

"In that case, as a service to the crown… would you like me to continue?" asked Conde.

"Please, if you would."

She sat directly across from him, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap, looking at him with anticipation.

She looked so beautiful, even in a nightgown. The way her hair blew in the wind, the smoothness of her pale white skin, and the gentle curve of her neck where it met her shoulder was enthralling.

He took a deep breath and met her large, beautiful brown eyes that gazed so intently at him, almost as if they could read into his soul.

"This one is for you, Mary."

She studied how the moonlight hit his face, how it created shadows under his eyes and on the side of his face, and how his seemingly plain brown eyes lit up in the candlelight, revealing flecks of gold and amber. She listened to his voice which was as sweet as honey, singing carefully, perhaps even shyly. She noticed the warm flush creep up the sides and back of his neck to the tips of his ears, and smiled.

It felt so good for her to just sit there, and to know that someone's there for her. It had been so long since she had felt this way, feeling a nervous rush of excitement as she met his eyes.

And he sang for her, and as the song progressed he became more passionate with his words, and never left her eyes.

He watched her eyes light up as they had not done in so many weeks, and he watched a genuine smile open up her face, and he realized perhaps the risk of sitting here, singing, to the queen of all women, was maybe worth it. It was worth it to see her happy, to see her enjoy something at last.

The music stopped time. It created a magical bubble of sorts, a bubble where only Mary and Conde existed, and both of them knew that this was trouble, that this would never end well, but neither cared. They knew that when the music stopped, they would have to deal with the effects of their encounter, but they weren't thinking about that.

(Play: To Be Alone With You, by Joshua James)

They were thinking about how they were sitting so close to each other, less than an arm's length away, so close it was unholy, it was risky, and it was exciting. And they only got closer, and closer, and as the music ended, it ended with a kiss so sweet it was like they were dying of thirst and they were like water to each other; it was a blurred mix of desperation, sadness, passion, and need. They were alight with passion; a fire burned so deeply in them that they feared it would consume them alive, neither having had experienced such a passionate, tender embrace in such a long time. She circled her arms around his neck and his around her hips and pulled each other closer, leaving no room between them. His hands traveled downwards, below her waist, and her hands explored every inch of his back and chest, pulling off his shirt and leaving no spot undiscovered. His lips kissed jolts of electricity into her lips and neck, each more electrifying than the last. She breathed sweetly into his ear, spurring him on further with only the moonlight to guide them.

He got out his guitar much later to sing again, and that was how she left him: as she had found him earlier that night. Yet, as she slipped away over the grass, she could not help looking back at him, only to find him looking at her. She smiled shyly and continued towards the castle, leaving him to watch her silhouette disappear as he sighed, fully aware of the consequences and what tomorrow would bring, but too happy to care.