Prologue

"Bash, could you step outside for a while?"

Those cerulean blue eyes looked up from observing the flickering flames dancing around the burning wood in the fireplace. His hands, one on his hips and the other on the marble trim to support his weight as he leaned forwards, both dropped as he turned around. His eyes darted towards Mary only to find her staring back at him with dark pupils and a face devoid of the warm glow she usually emanated. Her pale porcelain skin and trembling fingers as she gripped her towel closer to herself told him that she was still traumatized by what happened.

Who wouldn't be, he thought, pursing his lips in anger as his mind flashed back to the scene when he had found Mary choking in a tub of poison with Catherine lying on the floor beside it. According to the guards, the incident had been reported to his father. So far, there had been no word from the king but he hoped that what happened was strong enough evidence for his father to give Catherine the death sentence she deserved.

"Bash,"

Lola's voice forced him back to reality. Hesitantly, he nodded and, with one look at Mary, left the room.

"I'll tell you when you can see her again," Kenna spoke gently before closing the door behind him.

"What do you mean you're putting off her death sentence?" Bash barked in disbelief and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. The combination of the anxiety and anger building up in him was starting to make his body feel warm. Perspiration trickled down his forehead as he watched his father pace the room.

"I mean, dear son, that I will be delaying her death sentence. I'm not putting it off."

"But why?" Bash interjected before his father could go on. "She tried to kill Mary."

"Yes, but she is also your brother's mother," the king spoke firmly, gritting his teeth together and looking at his son straight in the eye. "I know Catherine tried to kill Mary, but don't you think it's appropriate to at least let your brother know that his mother is about to be killed?"

Bash stood there silently, dropping his gaze to the floor. His father was right. How could he have forgotten that?

"Look, your brother will be in from visiting our relatives first thing tomorrow morning." King Henry placed an arm on his son's shoulder. "I'll tell him what happened, and I am sure he'll understand."

Bash looked up at his dad, who, without the crown on his head, reminded him of the father he had growing up as a kid—the father who used to ride with him by the countryside and teach him how to sword fight while Francis sat in the corner reading. Except the man he stared at right now didn't look as young or as energetic as before. He had wrinkles on his forehead and visible crows feet at the corner of his eyes. Even his stubble, the one Bash remembered feeling excited to touch as a kid whenever his father just shaved, was turning grey.

"Francis will be in court tomorrow morning?"

King Henry nodded, dropping his arm and taking a seat on his bed. "I guess you and your brother could use a little talk."

"She didn't say a word the whole time we helped her into her clothes," Kenna spoke lowly outside of Mary's room later that night. Lola and Greer nodded in agreement.

"Nostradamus and a few of the servants came after to check on her. He said she's lucky the amount of poison that got into her system wasn't enough to cause critical damage," Lola added, a look of worry crossing her face as she spoke. "She just needs a lot of rest, and she should be fine."

There was a brief moment of silence before Greer broke it. "She wants to see you," she chirped, trying to alleviate the anxiety in the air. He caught the short glimmer in her eyes and knew she was telling the truth. Bash nodded, a part of him feeling relieved to hear that, and a tiny smile formed at the edge of his lips. He reached for the door handle, but Kenna spoke and stopped him.

"Bash,"

His eyes flickered towards her tired, hazel ones.

"I hope the two of you know what you're doing."

"I hope so too," he whispered. Then, with a brief nod, he stepped into Mary's bedroom and closed the door behind him.

She didn't look up at the sound of the door shutting. Instead, she laid there on one side with her hands clamped together below her cheeks. She was dressed in a white nightgown that blended in with the ivory duvet over her. He noticed that her hair was wet and had been braided loosely and pulled back over her shoulders. The lights in her room were dimmed except for the two bedside table lamps. He stood there for a moment, unsure of whether she was still awake. But then he heard her small, trembling voice.

"Bash?"

"Mary," he muttered, approaching her bed. She looked up at him as he knelt down beside her and noticed the dried tear marks down the corner of her eyes. Using his thumb, he wiped them away gently and watched her lips curve up into a small smile while he did so.

"Mary, I'm—"

"I'm happy you're here," she whispered, pulling his hand away from her face. "And I'm glad it was you who pulled me out of that tub."

He pressed his lips together, reliving the memory in his mind and taking her hand in between both of his. "Mary, I'm sorry," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and placing his forehead on their entangled hands. "Mary, I'm so sorry."

"Bash, don't—what are you talking about?" she asked, trying to push his head back but it wouldn't dodge. "Bash, it wasn't your fault and you know that," she slowly ran her hands through his oily, disheveled hair. "Catherine tried to kill me just like she always had."

"And she almost did," he finally looked up and Mary saw his eyes flooded with pain. "I almost lost you tonight, Mary. I almost couldn't save you tonight." The corners of his eyes dropped as he spoke, and his shoulders were slumped as though the guilt he harbored was too much that it weighed him down.

"But you did, Bash, you did." She forced a smile, wrapping another palm around their entangled hands. "Bash, if there was one person I wished saved me, it was you and you did." She watched his gaze drop to the floor again and pulled their hands closer to herself. "Bash—"

"This would not have happened if you were to marry Francis,"

"Who knows what would have happened?" She interjected, squeezing his hands. "Catherine hates me. It doesn't matter what I do, she would still want me dead." She tried to assure him, but Bash's head still hung low. "Bash, please look at me."

He looked up at her, noticing the color in her cheeks and lips return. Strands of loose dark hair escaped the braid and fell over her flawless face. He forced a tiny smile and watched the smile on her face grow wider. He was baffled by her optimism and her strength and how she managed to appease the anxiety in him even for just a moment.

"Mary, I don't want to lose you."

"And you won't," she promised, kissing his hands and getting a whiff of his smell as he inched closer to her. He smelled of pine-probably the result of being in the woods a lot-with a hint of his natural, familiar scent. "I'm yours," she broke into a smile when she saw his face relax. "I've made the perfect choice."

He looked down, feeling the blood rush up to his cheeks as Mary's lips brushed against his hands again. "Did you mean that?" he grinned, looking back up at her.

"Of course," she whispered, her voice growing softer as she stared into his beady eyes. His pursed lips broke into a grin while he tucked the strands of loose hair behind her ears. After a while, he noticed her eyelids beginning to droop no matter how hard she tried to keep them open.

"You should get some rest," he whispered, leaning forwards to kiss her forehead. When he pulled away, he caught the smile on her face even though she had both eyes closed. The grip on his hand tightened as Mary mumbled something, but he couldn't make it out and watched as she drifted off to sleep.

THANK YOU so much for reading. Please let me know if you like it or not! I haven't written in a long time so please bear with me :) It's been a while since I've been obsessed with a TV show couple. Mash is just too adorable to not write a fanfic about! R&R appreciated, please and thank you! :)