Author's Note: This was written as part of the Lion & Queen 100th Thread FanForum celebration. And alternate ending to Episode 18. Please enjoy :)
Please listen to Apocalyptica's Faraway Vol. 2 featuring Linda Sundblad (extended version), as it is the musical inspiration for this one-shot.
The concrete floors would never show the path Mary paced relentlessly in her tower cell. Seething, Mary had nothing better to do than march diligently from one corner to the other of the dank quarters, the darkness consuming her heart as it did her mind and vision. Francis had been cruel, claiming to have her best interest at heart. But she was a Queen. And she was his wife. He was not yet King, she continually reminded herself, and though he promised he loved her and was acting with her best interest in mind, could she still love him in return?
She chewed unforgivably on her nails as she wore her shoes out on the concrete floor. Their marriage had just begun, and as quick as a flame, she thought it might be extinguished. She had hid the truth of Lola from Francis, and how would he react when he learned the truth? Would their marriage survive? Their marriage was like a boat being run aground on a rocky shore. One more wave and the boat would sink. Would Lola and the baby be that last wave? Or had Francis' current act of betrayal been the catalyst?
Do I want my marriage to survive? She silently questioned, her heart aching at the realization that maybe she did not want it to go any further. She hated herself for even considering the possibility, and yet, she felt a sense of relief at the same time.
Her feet ached from all the strides she took around the tiny cell. The one darkened window was covered in a layer of grime, preventing any glimpse of life beyond her confinement. Screaming, she pounded her fists into the unyielding concrete walls. The walls were covered in etchings from the multitude of previous inhabitants, and now they were etched with the blood from Mary's knuckles.
"It is such a disservice to mar your beautiful skin."
Mary swiveled, grasping her bloodied hands to her chest. Sebastian stood beyond the doorway, his face barely visible through the iron bars. It was nearly midnight, and the barest hint of moonlight from both her dirtied window and the window in the hall cast a yellowish tint to his face.
"Bash?" The questioning tone of her voice startled both Mary and Sebastian. Silence hung between them in the moonlight.
"Well, yes, that is what some call me." He replied, the joking lilt in his voice returning. Mary chuckled lightly, but her face remained grave.
"That is not what I meant. Why are you here? Maybe the better question is how are you here?" Mary whispered, here voice strained. Francis had left several soldiers to guard Mary's cell, and yet Bash stood before her.
"I can see the blood that covers your hands, but you cannot see that which covers mine." Bash responded cryptically, and Mary gasped in realization. Had Bash killed all those guards Francis posted?
"You killed them, did you not?" The pain was evident in Mary's voice. She hated being locked away in the tower like a criminal, but the only thing she hated more was more bloodshed in her name. "Bash, how could you?"
"Really, Mary? I detest killing for anything other than necessity." Sebastian sighed, dropping his head in exasperation.
"But you just said..."
"I guess I need to work on my sarcasm." Bash smirked, hoping to ease the growing tension. Mary glared spitefully in return; glad the duskiness of her cell hid the anger in her eyes. "Well, I would love to stay and chat, but we need to get you out of here."
"What?" Mary hissed, still unsure what happened to the guards that supposedly guarded her cell. If they were to find Sebastian here, the consequences could be grim.
"We have roughly half an hour, well less than that now, to get you out of the castle and to the horses. Let us go." The door of Mary's cell rattled, and then opened a sliver. With a noise that would wake the dead, the door fully opened. Sebastian's hand reached for Mary's, but instead of grasping her hand, he felt her waist as her arms wrapped around his neck.
"Thank you." She cried into his neck, hands grasping at his tunic. He reached to loosen her arms from his neck, holding her bloodied knuckles gently. Surprisingly, he lifted both hands to kiss the bruised flesh, his breath tickling her skin as he did.
"Oh Bash, I will bleed all over you." Mary exclaimed, pulling her hands away from his grip. She immediately missed the warmth they provided.
"Nothing you have not done before." He replied weakly, and Mary blushed. She remembered that heated moment they shared beside Isobel's grave, paying homage to her passing in the only way appropriate. His blood had split down her cheek, and hers had covered his shirt, leaking through the dressing he had gently wrapped around her hand. They had kissed, more passionately than the few times before, eagerly pulling each other close. "I am glad to see you have not forgotten everything." The words passed quietly from between his lips, and Mary felt that strange pull towards him that she had all those months ago.
"No, I did not forget." Mary admitted, resurfacing from her memory at the sound of a distance door.
"We must make haste." Sebastian urged, his hand protectively grasping her elbow and pulling her towards to main tower hallway.
"This way? Why we will be seen by everyone." She urged, her feet refusing to step any further towards the corridor.
Sebastian sighed, tugging Mary along with him. "I told you, we have about a half an hour. The guards have been drugged. We will get you to the stables, on a horse, and safely away from here."
"What did you do, drug the entire castle?" Mary asked, not resisting Sebastian's pace.
"Nearly." He quipped, a tug playing at the corners of his mouth.
They continued in silence down the castle corridors, stepping over the bodies of drugged guards. It was hard for Mary not to laugh, seeing the guards indisposed. One laid slumped against the wall, his mouth agape and drool running down the front of his armor. Another lay sprawled on his back, arms and legs splayed at various angles. It was almost hard to comprehend they were only drugged, in a deep sleep, as opposed to being slaughtered by a conquering army. All that was missing was the blood. Mary reached out a hand for Sebastian's, halting his stride momentarily.
"How did you do all of this?" The concern in her eyes shone through clearly. He squeezed her hand to sooth her nerves, tugging slightly to indicate they needed to keep moving.
"The less you know now the better. We need to get on the road."
"We?" Mary paused, only in thought but not in step. For the last few minutes, she had assumed that Bash was rescuing her in order to get her home to Scotland. She never presumed he would escort her the long distance. But now, the thought of traveling alone made her laugh. Sebastian kept walking, but threw her a worried glance. "I am sorry. This is a bit overwhelming for me."
Bash halted, pushing Mary behind him and up against the rough stone corridor. She listened intensely, trying to hear whatever he heard, but only silence greeted them. She felt his body relax, the muscles in his back shrugging as he moved slowly across to the opposing wall. He ran his hand under the tapestry curiously. It finally dawned on Mary where they were. They were in the corridor not far from the dining hall, the same corridor they had meant to meet Olivia and escape the clenches of the rogue Italian Duke. Removing herself from the horrid memory, she continued to gaze at Sebastian. His whole frame disappeared behind the tapestry of Francis' grandfather, Francis I, during the French victory at the Battle of Marignano. Mary stood fascinated, watching the tapestry ripple with Bash's movements. It was as if the French victory flag was waving in the wind. Bash pulled aside the fabric, motioning for Mary.
The tunnel was as dark and dank as Mary remembered, even though she only had the chance to peek inside, but not use, the escape route. She felt the warmth of Bash's hand on the small of her back, and she shivered at the disparity between the cold, dampness of the tunnel and the warmth that radiated from him. By this point, Mary was utterly determined to escape Francis' grasp, and come to the aid of her mother in Scotland no matter the cost.
Mary let Sebastian take the lead, blinding following by seizing his tunic firmly. He held one arm out for her, bringing her close to his side. The tunnel was completely dark, and yet he traversed the uneven steps expertly. It is like he has practiced this exact path, Mary thought. Lost in thought as to what it all might mean, she stumbled forward. Her skin felt clammy as the tunnel air rushed around her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Mary braced for impact with the rough stones, but she never did. In one fluid motion, Bash's other arm fell around her side, halting the downward momentum of her body.
He pulled her close, her head resting on his chest. Beneath her ear, his heart pounded a steady drumbeat. It reminded her of the march of armies, as their feet moved in cadence with one another. Though it was steady, the pace of his heart would overwhelm even a racing horse. She listened as the pattering slowed. Sebastian's hold on her never slackened as they stood in the darkness, and Mary made no move to untangle herself. After the pain of the last few hours being locked away by Francis, Mary did not want to leave the comfort these arms provided. His breath breezed across her forehead, tickling her face while ghosting down her neck. They needed to keep moving, else risk being discovered.
"Thank you for catching me." Mary whispered.
"I will never let you fall." His words were soft, and weighed heavily around them. Mary realized he meant so much more than a physical fall. He would never let her fall physically, mentally, or emotionally. She thought once, many months ago, that he would be her solid rock. Even though he was married now, he would always be there for her, her unyielding rock. "We must get moving." He encouraged, removing his arms and pulling her again down the corridor.
Mary nodded obediently in the darkness. She wished she could see his face, decipher the emotions that would be visible in his eyes. But would she really want to see his response? He had so much passion within him it scared her at times. She once told him those words, that he scared her and thrilled her at the same time.
Her feet stumbled a few more times, her hands grasping for his arm every time. The path was rough, and road ahead would be even rougher, but with Sebastian at her side, Mary felt more confident in their escape. The air, already chilled, began to take on a frosty quality as they neared the exit on the stable side of the castle.
"Sebastian, what about Kenna? Can you leave her thus?" His eyes narrowed at her question, and he looked away. Mary could not tell if he was ashamed, nervous, or unsure of himself.
"I came here at Kenna's bidding. She loves her country, and her country needs their Queen. I will not lie to you, Mary. I do love her. But I also love you." He paused, the fingers holding her hand lightly caressing her skin. "Kenna knows there is a place in my heart where only you reside. She accepts that fact. She also accepts that there is no one more suited to be your escort to Scotland than myself."
"But what if we do not return to France?"
"We said our goodbyes, and accept what fate has to offer. She loves me, yes, but she loves her country more, and I can respect that. I respected you for it, if you remember."
"Yes, but Kenna is not a Queen."
"Not in title, no." Sebastian chuckled, and Mary smiled. "Know this, Mary. There are two women in my life right now that I love dearly. I would do all in my power to protect them, and that is what I am doing."
Mary had no answer to Sebastian's honesty other than a quiet 'thank you.' He opened the tunnel exit, and the bitter night air took their breath away. He disappeared briefly, returning to offer Mary his hand and leading her into the darkened night.
"Let us make haste. We have quite the journey ahead of us."
And in good Scottish fashion, Mary replied. "Aye."
The heavy thudding of footsteps through the castle corridors sent servants scurrying in every direction. The drugging potion had worked better than Sebastian or Nostradamus could have imagined, the tower guards not awakening until dawn. He seethed, his feet screaming from their harsh pounding on the concrete floor. Mary had slipped through his fingers. Could she not see he was trying to protect her?
He summoned guards, sending them in every direction to find Mary. They would find her before she left for Scotland, and his mercy would not be so lenient this time. And when he found out who helped her escape her temporary tower home, there would be hell to pay. His vision blurred red as he paced, sensing the most horrid betrayal of trust from those he loved. He was King in all but name, his father daily falling further into the depths of insanity. Who would dare disobey their King?
Rounding the corner to the throne room, the court nobility scattered around Francis. They were bleary-eyed, his own guards summoning them to be fit for court at this early hour. There were awkward bows, and stumbling curtseys, but they were there as ordered by their Dauphin. Catherine was there, watching her son intensely. He had made sure his father was not notified; afraid an ailing King and a Prince who could not keep his own wife under control might ignite unrest among the nobles.
Frantically, his eyes searched the throne room, seeking a pair of eyes that should be present. His brother's budding relationship with Lady Kenna, though she was his wife, surprised all, and yet deep down, Francis knew there would be a part of Sebastian that would love Mary until his dying day. Consequently, he should be willing, and more than able, to help Francis retrieve Mary before she did anything foolish.
He traversed the room once, not finding his brother in the room. A knot formed in the pit of his belly, a horrible sinking feeling. Would Sebastian have been so foolish for a second time?
That was an easy question to answer. Yes.
Glancing back through the crowd, nervous eyes meeting his, he found the next person who would answer to him. She was in the back corner, whispering to another. Francis did not care, for he needed answers.
"Where is he?" He bellowed, the nobles parting around him like the Red Sea as he pounded her direction. If he had taken the time to notice, his nobles were trembling before him. The lady remained quiet, acting oblivious to Francis' advancement. "Lady Kenna, did you hear me? Where is your husband?"
"Your Grace?" Kenna questioned, curtseying again as Francis approached.
"You heard me." He halted, his chest heaving with angered breaths. "I summoned one and all to this hall this morning. Where is he?!"
He gave Kenna credit. Maybe it was the time she had spent with his father as he started tinkering with insanity, but she did not flinch, blink, or give any indication she might be hiding something.
"His mother summoned him to Paris early this morning." Kenna replied smoothly.
"Oh really? How convenient for him." Francis paused, not looking at Kenna. He spun around, walking towards the other startled faces of his court. He felt the power in him, and it was exhilarating, all these nobleman bending to his will. His father had told him that once, that he would not understand the pull of power until he tasted it for himself. He turned again toward Kenna. She met his gaze unshakingly.
"How convenient." He whispered, and a chill went through the room. Unhindered, he approached Kenna rapidly causing her to gasp and take several steps back until her back hit the wall. He stood so close they were almost touching, and though when they first arrived at court, Kenna had imagined a much different moment like this with Francis, she now feared him. "How convenient for him that my wife is missing, and your husband happens to be summoned away from court by his mother."
"I have the letter from Diane in my quarters if you wish to see it." Kenna offered politely.
"LIAR!" Francis screamed, and Kenna cowered against the wall. A few gasps went up around the hall at Francis' outburst, but he ignored them.
"Your Grace, he told me he went to Paris. If he is not there then I cannot tell more than that." Kenna whimpered, reaching for Greer's hand who stood nearby.
Francis watched helplessly. He knew Kenna to be a good actress when she needed to be, but could he treat her so in front of his court? Did he want the beginning of his rule to be marred by tyranny? She could be telling the truth. If Sebastian had indeed helped Mary escape, he might have lied to his wife.
"Mark my words, Lady Kenna. If I find out you knew anything about this, there will be consequences." He swiveled to face the rest of his court, their wide eyes staring him back. "For those that do not know, Mary, Queen of Scots, has left us. I fear she may never return. I beg you all to pray for her soul in these trying times. Likewise, my once beloved brother seems to have betrayed us once more," he paused, turning back to face Kenna, "and he is no longer welcome at French court." Francis backed away slowly from Kenna, his eyes holding hers and emphasizing his point. "Oh, and Kenna, as further punishment to my brother, you are not allowed to leave the castle, on penalty of treason."
He heard her whimpers as he swiftly exited the hall. The cacophony from the throne room, including the shouts from his mother to wait for her, fell on deaf ears. They had had such a miniscule amount of happiness together, both the beginning, and now ending, marred by his brother's meddling. Maybe I should have ordered my guards to kill you on my wedding night, he thought harshly. Part of his mind hissed in disagreement, trying to remind himself of all the fun times they spent together as boys, but he shut his compassionate side down. No more forgiveness. No more mercy.
His father taught him there were moments in every King's rule that required being ruthless, and cold. And though he was not King, yet, he decided it was time to learn first hand.
He whispered to himself, words he thought he would never say. "I am sorry, Mary, but I just cannot forgive you this time."
Escaping France had actually been easier than either Mary or Sebastian had anticipated. Even the multiple day boat ride had been uneventful. Scotland, however, had been an adventure. They had kept Mary hidden, staying at small inns along the way to Edinburgh. Many had never seen Mary before, having spent the majority of her life in France, but Sebastian wanted to take no chances. The Protestant Lords throughout Scotland had been vocal, speaking out against Marie de Guise's regency. The Protestant minister John Knox supported these Lords in their verbal dissent against both Marie and Mary. Though worried about the Protestant onslaught, Mary herself had no intention of disciplining her people because of their faith. She wanted her people to follow her rule, and her mother's rule in her stead, no matter how they worshiped in the privacy of their home. She spoke at length to Sebastian of those thoughts, that she could not force her people to believe as she did, and though she vehemently disagreed with their faith, they all needed to move forward, unified, for a prosperous Scotland.
However, she offered no respite to her people if they disobeyed their Queen. She would be generous, to a point. Sebastian remained amazed at her diplomatic skill. He only wished Francis could truly see her in action. He really only had the one experience, seeing the Scottish Lords bow at her feet. And now, as they finally approached Edinburgh Castle which stared dauntingly down at them, Sebastian offered a prayer to his father's God, adding words in an ancient tongue to pay homage to his mother. These would be trying times for both of them, not knowing how Francis, or France, would respond to Mary's departure, and Bash believed they would need all the guidance possible.
Reaching for Mary's hand, he offered a gentle squeeze of comfort. "Francis feared for your safety here, as do I. But know this, no one will harm you whilst I live."
"Thank you, Bash." Weakly, Mary smiled. "You have brought great comfort to me on this journey. When the time is right, you will be rewarded, and I will tell Kenna the stories of your bravery."
His wife had been on the forefront of his mind the last few days. While on the ship, Sebastian had told Mary more of Kenna's urging to help Mary escape. She pleaded with him that her country, and her Queen, needed each other in these dark times. He knew not when, or even if, he would see his wife again. He prayed she would not be on the receiving end of his brother's vengeance.
"Well, shall we follow Daniel's lead and enter the lion's den?" Mary quipped, breaking both their worrisome thoughts.
"I suppose, though I remember the story as Daniel being thrown into the lion's den. There was nothing voluntary about it." Sebastian smirked back, hoping the levity would calm both their nerves. Mary humphed at him, the edges of her mouth tilting upward briefly. They both turned their heads toward the imposing castle. This time, it was Mary grasping for Bash's hand as they trudged the well-worn path upwards.
A month in Edinburgh had passed when a messenger from France arrived. He carried two letters, one for Mary, and one for Sebastian. They were dining with Mary's brother, James, when the letters were delivered. Mary's heart sank, seeing Francis' neat scroll as she peeled away the wax royal seal and gently unfolded the paper.
She never heard her brother excuse himself, leaving the pair to the own misery. The paper dropped from Mary's hand, the words annulment, war, and betrayal screaming to her from the scrolling ink. Francis wanted an annulment, claiming their marriage was unconsummated. Everyone on God's green earth knew that to be a lie, but if the Pope wanted or needed French support, he would grant the claim without question. Should Scotland ever find itself entrenched in a war with England, Francis would withdraw the support of France. And lastly, he simply wrote he was disappointed with her betrayal. Had he been there in person, and screamed and belittled her, Mary thought she could have handled it. But seeing the word 'disappointment' written in her husband's hand, and hearing his voice utter the word repeatedly in her head, she realized she might have made the gravest mistake of her life.
The sound of breaking glass echoed across the small dining room. Mary jumped, seeking the source. Sebastian stood at the other end of the room, his hands bloody. He stood before the window, a hole in the glass letting chill evening air into the room. Blood dripped from the glass, and Mary gasped at the sight. His letter lay at his feet, blood from his hand dripping across the beautiful penmanship. Stooping, Mary retrieved the paper. Kenna's hand flowed across the page, and portions of the ink were smudged. It was as if Kenna wrote the letter while crying. Sebastian remained still as Mary read that Kenna would remain at court, on penalty of treason if she left, and that Sebastian was banished from France for life.
Bash screamed, throwing his fist back and running towards the window. Throwing her arms around his middle, Mary pulled him back, and he fell against her, anguish pouring from his sobs. She held him tightly, her head resting against his back as he cried. Francis had taken the one thing from Sebastian that he could call his own.
"Did we take the right course of action?" He whispered hoarsely, pain seeping from his words.
"Maybe not. But I did what I had to do for my country, and you have seen first hand the benefit of my arrival." She paused, continuing to hold him tightly. "You have lost so much, for that I am eternally sorry."
Sebastian sat quiet as Mary tended to the wombs on his hands. There were a million thoughts flying through Mary's mind, and none them were pleasant. King Henry would likely pass away soon, and Francis would ascend the throne. A month ago, she would have been there with him, Queen of France. Now, well, now Bash was not the only who could not set foot in France again. It was her fault, she knew and accepted that, but seeing the pain and hurt on Sebastian's face was not something she had planned. He had loved her, still loved her, and all she gave him in return was pain, and heartache, and insurmountable grief.
She did love him. Those months they were thrown together she had fallen in love with the roguish brunette. He had captured her heart, and even though she had loved and married his brother, a part of her still loved him. She still loves him, and his current anguish caused her pain. It was time to let her feelings for Francis desert, as his for her obviously had. She needed devote what emotion and feeling she had left to the grieving man in front of her.
Her rock. Her Sebastian.
They spent the following week grieving in their own way. Mary spent much of her time meeting with her mother, brother, and Scottish lords from both sides in an attempt to finalize a peace between the Catholic and Protestant factions. She even managed a meeting with John Knox, in which she manage to keep him from yelling at her the entire time. Bash, on the other hand, spent most of his days locked away in the chambers Mary had given him. He joined her in the evenings, but rarely spoke. It broke Mary's heart to see the deep hurt that radiated from him. She had caused him pain once before, and now she was again. She valiantly tried to make small talk, recounting the various meetings she had, and the people she talked to. He nodded dutifully, and once she caught him smiling, but he generally remained quiet.
That evening's dinner was continuing just as the several days had gone. Mary had hoped that her presence might help Sebastian, even though she understood the deepness of his torment. She hated to admit she cried herself to sleep every night. She missed what had been, and what could have been, both with Francis and the possibility all those months ago of a life with Sebastian. She was so used to be Bash being her strong foundation. Now, she needed to be his.
"Excuse me, Your Grace, but these letters have just arrived." A servant stood in the doorway of Mary's quaint dining area holding two separate letters outstretched. Mary felt her heart race, as she relived a similar evening only a week ago.
"Thank you." She mumbled weakly, accepting the letters with a shaking hand. One was addressed to her, in the very familiar hand of Lola. The other was addressed to Bash, in an unfamiliar script. He was watching her intently as she approached, handing him the letter. Their eyes locked momentarily, and she smiled sadly at him. Sitting down once more, Mary gingerly opened the letter from Lola. She read it quickly, and then wished she had not.
"Is something the matter?" Bash asked, watching Mary's face whiten. She peered up curiously at the sound of his voice, a tear falling down her face.
"Lola is by Francis' side now. Apparently there were some misgivings with her relationship with Lord Julien. She has said it was not by her choice, but she is by Francis' side, carrying his child." Mary could clearly see now the deepness of her betrayal in Francis' eyes. He loved her, once, but now his heart was hardened. Drying her eyes, she turned back to Bash.
"What of your letter? I did not recognize the script."
"Letters, actually. One is from my mother, just a personal note. The other is from Kenna, who apparently wanted this letter to not be intercepted by Francis." He said, raising a small piece of parchment with Kenna's neat hand. "Nothing truly spectacular to report, I am afraid."
Mary did not agree with Bash's assessment, for there was a complete change in his demeanor afterwards. He talked at length with her about her meetings, asking detailed questions showing he had listened to her over the past week. She was astounded. He obviously was trying to distract her from dwelling on Lola's letter too much.
"Why the sudden change, Bash? What did Kenna say?" Mary asked curiously.
"Nothing to worry about, Mary. I am sorry to hear about Lola and Francis, though I am not terribly surprised. It will be good fortune for her family I suppose."
"I suppose." Mary replied in kind. Suddenly, Mary's dinner did not look so appetizing. Thinking of Francis and Lola together once in Paris had been hard enough, but knowing he had continued to harbor feelings for her lady was tough. She could not blame Lola, since she was carrying Francis' child, but it hurt nonetheless.
"Mary, I think I will retire for the night. Thank you for helping me this week." Sebastian now stood by Mary's side as she sat, surprised by his movement. He bent gently and kissed the top of her head, before turning and leaving. Mary sat speechless. Had she missed something very important? She glanced at the end of the table, but he had taken the letters with him. She desperately wanted to know what Kenna wrote to him, because it changed him in a way she had never seen.
She stayed in her seat for another hour; the darkness of evening setting while Mary contemplated the past few hours. Realizing the hour, Mary drifted to her chambers, releasing her ladies to dress herself for bed. The evenings in Scotland had been the most torturous. Mary missed Greer, and Kenna, and even Lola. She missed their laughter as they would get ready to retire for the evening. It was those moments she missed the most.
She lay in bed, her eyes tracing the etchings on the ceilings, etchings of the Kings that came before her. She would be a good Queen.
She would.
She had to.
She stared at the ceiling, the etchings swimming before her in a real-life parade, banners flying high in victorious triumph. Sighing, Mary's body rose and swiveled naturally, her body knowing where she was moving before her mind even did. Her bare feet touched the rough stone, a shiver trembling through her bones. Grabbing her shawl, she wrapped the linen tightly around the shoulders and opened her chamber door.
She walked with purpose down the hall, her mind finally catching up to where her feet were moving. She had only been in his chambers a few times since they had arrived in Scotland, their time together being spent mostly in public areas. She gotten used to the cold stone beneath her feet by the time she reached his door. She knocked, leaning in to listen. She pushed on the door, the hinges creaking softly as the door swung open.
A fire roared in the fireplace, casting orange and yellow hues around the room. Sebastian lay asleep in his bed, his chest rising slowly as he slept. On the stand by his bed, Mary saw the note from Kenna. Her feet moving silently, she reached for the note, scanning the words. Kenna's brutal honesty astonished Mary in a wonderful way. She wrote of her love for him, and how much she would miss him. She wrote that she mourned the time that was now taken from them, and that she cherished what time they did have. It was next part that nearly brought tears to her eyes. Kenna told Sebastian to love Mary unconditionally, and to protect her, and Scotland, at all costs.
I know we said our goodbyes before you left, but I need to say it again. I want you to be happy, my love, and I know you will be with Mary at your side. Be for her what you were for me. Be her knight.
A tear trickled down Mary's cheek, which she hastily wiped away. Kenna was much braver than Mary gave her credit for. She knew Kenna would find love again, but Mary was still saddened knowing her best friend was in pain as well. She sat the letter back down on his table, watching him as slept. No wonder his mood had lightened at dinner. It must have been a significant weight for him to bear emotionally. She wanted to reach out and brush his ruffled locks, but did not want to wake him. Instead, she slipped silently to the other side of the bed. Leaving her shawl on the floor, she slide between the sheets like a ghost, shifting so that they were lying face to face. Could she love him again? She realized she never really stopped loving him. But could she love him? He had, once again, risked everything for her, and this time lost it all. Except, he lost everything but her.
She could love him. Maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, because they both needed to grieve. But eventually, yes.
"I am so vulnerable without you by my side." She whispered, giving in to temptation to touch his face. His body shifted towards her, seeking her warmth even in sleep.
She drifted off to sleep watching him. She awoke as the early morning light filtered through the window. It was yet another day, but she felt more confident than ever to face it. Through the blurriness of morning, she wondered where Sebastian went, not seeing his face before her eyes. But then she realized she had turned over, and that he had not gone anywhere. She felt the warmth of his body pressed against her back, and the comfort of his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. It felt comfortable.
It felt like home.
"Do not ever slip away from me, Mary." He whispered against her neck, his breath tickling her sensitive skin. She smiled, turning to face him. His lids were barely open, and sleepiness masked his face, but he pulled her closer.
"Never." She whispered, leaning in to kiss him. Her lips moved cautiously at first, testing the waters. Mary knew they could not pick up where the relationship ended, but they could rebuild a new one. One based on trust, honesty, openness, and love. His lips responded gently, a promise of their future written within the movement.
She pulled back gently, resting her forehead against his. It was amazing the difference a day could bring. Their lives changed so much in the past month, and even more just since the prior evening. It was a wonderful change, and Mary was glad of it.
"Shall we greet the world?" Bash asked huskily, fingers gently stroking her arm.
"If we can greet it together, then yes." Mary smiled in return, hope finally returning to her.
"I would not dream of it any other way." Sebastian chuckled, joy radiating from his person. Mary could not help but laugh as well, feeling truly happy and content for the first time in many months.
Her laughter was silenced by another kiss, and as her fingers threaded his hair, tugging him closer, Mary let all her doubt, worry, anger, and frustration vanish, feeling instead the love and loyalty only Bash could show her.
I am ready to begin anew.