Title: The Lady and the Pagan
Author: Flashes09
Rating: T
Summary: Lady Mary Stuart of Scotland expected many things when she traveled to France to see her older sister safety wed to Francis, the Dauphin. She expected court gossip and whispering about the Scots. She expected strong opposition to the match from Queen Catherine. She expected cold feet from her sister. Mary did not expect to get ambushed by bandits before ever arriving at the castle. She did not expect to get saved by a pagan prince. And she certainly did not expect to find herself falling in love with the pagan prince, putting herself and everyone she knows in danger. Reign AU, Mary/Bash, with Francis/OC.
A/N: This is an AU that will be mostly Mary/Sebastian, with chunks of Francis/OC and a bit of Greer/Leith because they are adorable. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own "Reign" and am not in any way affiliated with the show.
Chapter 1
France, 1557
The carriage bounces quickly down the road, the horses pushed hard to make the French Court by tomorrow. In the carriage, Lady Mary Stuart jolts over each rut and hole the carriage meets, finding the that sleep they were advised to get is very elusive. She looks around the carriage at the other girls, all of them fast asleep, all of them loyal friends who had made the long journey from Scotland to support their queen in France. Their loyalty would be needed to meet the ultimate goal of marrying the Queen of Scots to the Prince Francis. But capturing the Dauphin's heart would be another journey altogether, one Mary intended to help her sister with as much as possible.
Queen Moira of Scotland was Mary's older sister, and they two looked strikingly similar. Both had the same dark hair and dark eyes favored by their mother, Mary de Guise, and it is under her instruction that Moira was sent to France at the age of six to live with King Henry II and his family. She lived at the French court for three years before King Henry had her sent to a convent for her safety. But the convent was not as safe as everybody had though. The English had managed to penetrate even the sanctity of a nunnery to try and poison Moira. Now, a decade later, Moira was to be returned to the French court and carry out her marriage to Prince Francis.
The whole affair made Mary shudder. She could not image being married to a man she barely knew in a play for political power. She knew that was what waited in her future too, but to her, that future was some ways off. She would not be allowed to marry until Moira had been successfully wed to the prince, and as their mother had warned Mary before sending her off, getting this marriage would be difficult.
The morning of Mary's departure from Scotland, her mother had woken her early and bid her to dress, assisting in the process herself. Mary de Guise was the acting Regent of Scotland for Moira, and as such was desperate to see the country returned to stability before her daughter took the throne. So Mary de Guise was sending her only other daughter, Mary of Scotland, to ensure that Moira secured a husband that was royal, wealthy, and, most importantly, well supplied with a large army.
"Be her eyes and ears, Mary. Be her conscious and her mentor. Remind her always that every move she makes affects not only herself, but all of Scotland. We have the English on our very doorstep, waiting only for the opportune moment to strike. We hold them off now, but we cannot hold them off forever." Mary de Guise found herself speaking quickly, trying to give every last minute instruction she could to her younger daughter. They needed this alliance with France desperately, for Mary de Guise was not sure she could keep the English at bay for much longer. She spun her daughter around, taking tight hold of her arms and forcing the girl to look directly at her.
"All of Scotland relies on this alliance, Mary, and the French are very reluctant to push it forward. You have to make it happen. You know that Moira is not the strongest willed creature. I am going to rely on you to make her into the queen she needs to be." With that, Mary de Guise hugged her youngest daughter fiercely, knowing it would be some time before she would get to see her again. Then she sent Mary off to ride to port, to meet the other girls and board the ship that would take them to France.
That had been some weeks ago, as a storm at sea had barred passage, and Mary had been forced to pace the decks of the ship and wait for it to pass. Eventually, just as Mary was certain she would pull her hair out from the waiting, the storm had cleared and the ship had continued its journey, swiftly making port at the French dock. A carriage was waiting to take the girls to the French court, so they all piled in, grateful to be off the ship, but not pleased with a carriage. Mary would much rather ride, feeling the sun on her face, the wind in her hair, and the feel of the horse beneath her, muscles stretching and shifting as she pushed her steed faster and faster. She would ride out frequently in Scotland, bringing along a guard, but easily outpacing them on her beautiful mare, Aella. It was Aella that Mary had demanded come to France with her, along with her dog Stirling, and her mother had conceded to both, on the premise that Mary would stop her frequent riding, as it was considered somewhat unladylike to look windswept all the time. Maybe, if Mary de Guise had known what would happen next, she would have let Mary ride wherever she wanted.
Night fell in France, but the carriage continued on, led by the torches held up by the guardsmen that had accompanied the girls all the way from Scotland. Sleep had finally come to Mary, and she leaned against the carriage side, dozing fitfully. She awoke briefly when the carriage stopped, and she heard a short, hushed conversation between the driver of the carriage and the captain of the Scottish guard.
"Our orders are to continue along this road until we reach the court. We will not deviate from this path." That was the captain's heavily accented French.
"If you want to have any chance of making up for the time you lost at sea, we should go this way. The woods are a shortcut that will lead straight to the palace. It will cut hours off of the travel time." That was the cajoling voice of the carriage driver. Mary felt that she should wake more fully, to enter into this conversation, but sleep was already retaking her.
"Is this not the forest referred to as the Blood Wood? I've heard of terrible things that go on in here."
"It's all stories, I promise..." The carriage driver's words were the last thing Mary heard before she fell asleep again.
Mary awoke again when the carriage came to a halt, much more forcefully than it had previously. She sat up, disoriented for a moment, looking out the window and seeing a thick forestation of trees. A soldier came into her view, one of the French guards, and he was shouting something. Before Mary could decipher what he was saying, a crossbow bolt lodged itself in his throat. The soldier grasped at his throat, looking as surprised as Mary as blood traced down through his fingers and soaked his white undershirt in red. He dropped to the ground like a stone and Mary clapped her hand over her mouth to stop her scream from escaping. She turned away from the window, fumbling at her ankle for the thin dagger she kept strapped there, only to see the other girls waking up.
Mary put a finger to her lips, urging them all to be quiet, but Aylee, sweet Aylee, was still too caught in the haze of sleep to realize.
"What's happening?" She asked, looking around bewildered. "Are we at court?" Lola, always the quickest to catch on, clapped her hand over Aylee's mouth to keep her quiet. Kenna and Greer, seated on the opposite bench, both shot Mary questioning looks. She shushed them again and listened hard.
The sounds of fighting outside were intense. Close by, sounds of metal on metal that signaled sword fighting ranged all around the carriage, while farther away, Mary heard the soft twang and louder thwack as crossbow bolts were fired and found their targets. Mary resituated her grip on dagger and was just about to stick her head out the carriage window when the sounds of fighting ceased. Mary exchanged glances with the other girls, knowing that the battle had gone either of two ways. Had it ended in their favor, the captain of the guard would soon be along to tell them what had happened. If the battle had not gone in their favor though...
Another man appeared at Mary's window. He was short and thick, dark beady eyes staring greedily at the girls. When he reached a hand through the window of the carriage, Mary did not hesitate to stab that hand with her dagger. The man howled in pain, crying out again when Mary ripped the dagger from his hand and was finally silenced when Mary stabbed out the window at his throat. Just like the guard earlier, the man grabbed at his throat, obviously surprised to meet with such opposition from a woman. Mary, for her part, was just as surprised. Though she had learned some basic skills from the guards back home, she never thought she would need them, or that she would ultimately kill a man. When she dropped her hand back into her lap, it was shaking.
Another man stepped into the first man's place, sparing only a quick glance for his companion on the ground. This man was much taller and rangy. His blond hair was dirty and messily tied back and his blue eyes narrowed in on Mary.
"Well, well, well, what have we here? Five maidens on their way to court?" He surveyed the other four girls, but turned his attention quickly back to Mary. "I take it you are the one who stabbed poor Albert?" He had already seen the dagger in her hand, stained with blood, he knew well and good who had killed the man. But he merely shook his head and gave a shrug.
"He's always had it coming to him, I'm afraid. Never was particularly good with women or words. Not much of a loss, I suppose. Now, would you like to tell me your name?" He asked politely, with all the rhetoric skill of a practiced courtier, but Mary knew without a doubt that this man was a mere thief, a bandit. She kept her mouth shut and raised her chin. After all, if they tried to ransom her, it would be hard to do so without her name.
"Come on, is this any way for a lady to act?" The man tried again. "I'll give you my name, if that makes you feel better." He stepped back and gave a short, flourished bow. "My name is Jacques. Now, lady, I want to hear yours." When Mary still refused, Jacques gave a short sigh and motioned at his men.
The bandits surrounded the carriage, yanking open the doors and pulling all of the ladies out. Aylee and Kenna screamed loudly while Lola and Greer fought hard, kicking at their captors. The bandits had a bit more trouble with Mary, who wielded her dagger in front of her, daring any of them to come forth and try their luck.
Mary was trying to figure out a way to escape when Jacques made the decision for her. He grabbed Aylee and held his own dagger to her throat. All pretense of an affable courtier was gone, replaced with the brigand he truly was.
"Drop your weapon, or I will kill your companion," Jacques sneered at Mary, hitching Aylee up higher and letting the dagger briefly nick her skin, causing a drop of blood to roll down her throat. Mary felt herself deflate. She held her hand out and dropped the dagger on the carriage floor.
Before any of the bandits could move to take it and grab Mary, she heard a soft whistling sound penetrate the air. An arrow sailed through the clearly, almost as if in slow motion, and stuck deep into the chest of the bandit just to the right of Jacques. Everybody stared at the fallen man and at the arrow jutting upward obscenely. Their stupor was broken when a dark-hooded figure strode into the clearing, bow in hand, obviously the source of the arrow.
"Get him, you fools!" Jacques snarled at his men, spurring them to action. They rushed the hooded figure, who dropped his bow and drew a sword, meeting each attack head on. Jacques stayed by the girls, watching his men fight the hooded figure, as Mary tried to make sense of what was happening. Had they been attacked on the road by bandits, only to be attacked again... by more thieves? Just how dangerous were theses woods? And why hadn't the king done anything to clear them all out? She would need to have a serious talk with someone about this, if she ever did make it to the French court.
At least with Jacques distracted, Mary could rearm herself with her dagger, slowly bending down to scoop it off of the floor of the carriage, then hiding it out of sight in the folds of her dress. Though she was still shaken from her encounter with the first man, Albert, she knew without a doubt she would kill again if needed to save her friends.
More hooded figures appeared from the trees, clogging the edges of the clearing and preventing any of the thieves from running away. They dispatched the few bandits still standing, some using bows and arrows, others using swords. Soon, all that was left standing was Jacques, who had surrounded himself on all sides with Mary's companions.
"Stop," he said, though with much less force than when he had been addressing Mary. "I know who you are. I want nothing from you, just let me be on my way." The hooded figures closed in a circle around Jacques, who tightened his grip on Aylee, nicking her again with the blade of his dagger. She cried out, and Mary's grip on her own dagger tightened.
The hooded figure who had first stepped into clearing came forward, sword in one hand and retrieved bow in the other. Jacques turned to him. "I'll kill the girl, I swear I will." The hooded figure didn't seem to care though. He stabbed his sword point first into the ground and hefted his bow, pulling an arrow from the quiver at his back.
"I warned you once to stay out of my woods. There is no second warning." The hooded figure spoke, his accent decidedly masculine and French. He pulled the bowstring tight, arrow notched and aimed straight for Jacques. Mary moved to protest, knowing that if the hooded figure missed, he would likely hit Aylee, but when he let go of the bowstring, the arrow flew straight and true, lodging itself in Jacques' hand that wielded the dagger. He cried out and dropped the dagger, falling to his knees on the ground, clutching his injured hand and letting go of Aylee in the process, who stumbled back to the other girls.
The hooded figure turned and said something in a language Mary didn't know to the figures around them. They spread out, one tying and gagging Jacques, some going to the edges of the clearing to keep watch, others going to the guardsmen scattered on the ground, and a few helping Mary's companions. The girls shied away at first, not sure that they could trust the hooded figures, but when Aylee passed out, they accepted the water the hooded figures provided.
Mary, for her part, would not allow anyone near her. She was shaking, hard, as the heat of the battle left her and she was left to process everything around her. Some of the guardsmen were waking up, helped by the hooded figures, and some of the bandits were still alive as well, though they were quickly tied up. And even though Mary felt exhausted, when the first hooded figure approached her, she had decided he was the leader, she tensed up, bringing her dagger to her side again.
The leader stopped where he was, still several feet from the carriage. Slowly he held out his hands and dropped his sword and bow, then plucked his dagger from his belt and dropped that too.
"I mean you no harm." He said, his voice surprisingly pleasant and placating now, the voice of a man talking to a wild horse, not the menacing tone he used with Jacques.
"If you truly mean me no harm, why won't you show me your face?" Mary retorted. She did not expect him to reach up and pull back his hood, but when he did, she was surprised to find that he was a young man, only a few years older than her. He had a pleasing, smiling face and a thick shock of unruly dark hair, matched by a day or two's stubble on his cheeks. His eyes, though, were his most amazing feature, startlingly blue at first, and yet, as he moved, they changed color, from blue, to gray, to green and back.
"Better?" He asked, those eyes catching hers and holding them fast. "I really only want to help. I do not abide thieves in my woods." He offered his hand to help her down from the carriage, but she did not take it.
"Your woods? And who are you, exactly? Why were you here, and why did you help us?" Mary was full of questions; questions for which she wanted answers, and questions that were easier to ask than to think about what to do next.
"Well, I suppose I'll answer those in reverse order. We helped you because we aren't the type of people to let people in danger fend for themselves." He gestured around the clearing, and Mary saw that many of the hooded figures had removed their hoods, and were no more than ordinary men and, she was shocked to see, women. "And we were here because we had been following these bandits for a couple of days. As I said, I do not like bandits in my woods." He offered his hand again, but Mary still refused.
"You still haven't told me who you are. How am I to know if I can trust you?" Trust was a lesson Mary learned hard in Scotland. Too many times had trusted servants poisoned her meals and clothes. Too many times advisors to her mother had sold information for money or planned uprisings. Trust did not come easy.
"Well, I haven't tried to kill you-"
"Yet." The leader gave her a look, but kept talking.
"I've detained your attacker, helped your ladies, revived your guards, and rescued you. And, since I know you're going to ask again, my name is Sebastian de Poitiers." He held out his hand again. "If I really wanted to cause you harm, wouldn't I have done so already? In fact, I could have just kept on walking. It is a lovely day out, and I'm quite afraid it has been ruined by all this. And to think, we were just about to go on a picnic." It was by no means a lovely day out. Night was at its end, but the sun could not penetrate the heavy cloud cover that foretold the impending storm. Certainly not a day for a picnic.
"You're cheeky." Mary admonished. The man, Sebastian de Poitiers, smiled and stepped closer, his hand still offered.
"I may be, my lady, but I'm not the one shaking like a leaf in the wind." Though he still smiled slightly, his eyes were serious and concerned. Mary looked down at her hands and was shocked to find they were still trembling, and hard. She maintained the tight grip on her dagger, but the blade weaved back and forth in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to drop the dagger, hearing it clatter on the floor of the carriage. She hadn't realized how much her hand ached from clutching the weapon until it was gone.
Sebastian's eyes darted from Mary to the dagger, still covered in blood, then to the dead bandit by the carriage before landing back on Mary. She saw in his eyes that he knew the circumstances of the bandit's death. She took his hand and he helped her down from the carriage.
Her feet hit the ground, but Sebastian did not let go of her hands. He kept them firmly in his grip as Mary met his gaze once again.
"Sometimes you have to kill in order to protect your friends." Mary shook her head, not wanting to talk about this, but Sebastian pushed forward. "Killing isn't easy," his volume had dropped several levels, intending the conversation to be only between them, and Mary couldn't help but feel how intimate this moment was. "If your hands weren't shaking, you'd be him." Mary nods, and for the first time in what feels like forever, she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it out. When she opens her eyes again, Sebastian is smiling at her, a full smile that lights up his eyes, his eyes that are the color of a threatening storm...
Mary frowns and looks up at the sky, and as if on cue, a drop of rain splashes on her nose.
"Uh oh." Sebastian says. "We'd best get someplace dry." He turns back to his people, who had been quite busy while Sebastian and Mary talked. All of Mary's guards who were still alive and relatively healthy had been woken up and gotten on their feet. Those guards who were too injured had been helped onto one of the carts that carried the girls' belongings. Those who had died had been neatly laid out, waiting for burial. The bandits had not been so lucky. Those who had lived were all tied together, carefully guarded by two of Sebastian's men. Those who had died had been left where they had fallen.
Sebastian called out a few short orders, spurring his men and women to action. They rounded up the horses that had bolted when the bandits attacked and helped the guards back into their saddles. Two women helped Mary's friends up and back into the carriage. While all looked relieved to be alive, Lola and Greer looked tired, Kenna looked shell-shocked, and poor Aylee was still frightened. Mary gave Aylee a hug before letting her climb back in.
"Well, I know I just helped you down, but now I suppose I'll need to help you back up!" Sebastian really was quite cheeky, Mary supposed, but she shook her head.
"I've had enough of carriages for now. I think I'll ride." She turns her back and marches to the end of the line of carts, where Aella is kept with the rest of the horses. The mare butts her head affectionately against Mary, who strokes her mare's wide neck.
"She's beautiful." Sebastian says from behind Mary. He motions to two of his men, who dig through the carts to find a saddle. It begins to rain more earnestly, and Mary shivers. In a flash, Sebastian pulls off his dark cloak, draping it around Mary's shoulders and pulling the hood up to cover her face. "There, now you'll stay dry." Sebastian is only wearing a white shirt and dark brown pants, but the rain doesn't seem to bother him. Mary finds her voice, needing to express herself.
"Thank you, Sebastian, for saving us." She really does mean it. Those bandits would have ransomed them to King Henry, who may not have even paid. Then they would have been left with the bandits, to a terrible fate Mary did not even want to contemplate. "And my name is Mary." Sebastian smiled broadly.
"Thank me when I get us somewhere dry," He said, helping Mary into her newly saddled horse. "And it's Bash, by the way. My friends call me Bash."
"Oh, so we're friends now, Bash?" Mary replied, adding in some of the cheek that Bash had used earlier. He walked away from her backwards, keeping her in his view.
"Oh, we're definitely on our way to being friends...Mary." Bash grinned and grabbed the reins of his horse, which had been hidden in the trees during the attack. He mounted and led the whole big group out of the clearing. Mary couldn't help but think that France was quite a bit more interesting place than she originally thought.
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