It had been almost two hours, and the castle wasn't any closer to settling down. All of the servants were awake and out of bed, gathered in small circles by candlelight to discuss the news and share gossip, whether it be true or not; the queen came to murder Queen Mary in her bath, a sword wielded in both hands. No, no, it was a strip of cloth she had used to strangle the poor lady. No, she had tried to force poison down her throat before the guards burst in. No, Sebastian had been the first to enter, and he had torn Catherine off of Mary himself. No one knew quite all the details, and the only two who could answer their questions were the subjects of the evening themselves - but no one was willing to trouble the young queen and everyone was too terrified of Catherine to even consider what she might have to say. All they could do was speculate, and wonder what it was that had really happened.
Bash knew the truth; Catherine was a vile, cold-hearted snake of a woman and she had tried to kill his future wife. And for that, he would personally make sure she paid with her head.
He barked orders to clear Mary's door of servants, who had been chittering about the lock hoping for a glimpse of the Scottish queen at this late hour. As they dissipated, shrinking from his glare, Bash nodded for the guards to take their leave and stand watch at the entrances to her hall. He stared despairingly at the solid wood in front of him, his hand raised in hesitation. He sighed deeply, gathering himself, wondering not for the first time when these terrible things would end - and knowing it was just the beginning.
He knocked softly, the sound echoing down the silent hallway. "Mary?" When he got no response, he knocked again a bit louder. "Mary, it's Bash. May I come in?"
"Bash?" A teary voice replied, and his heart fell like a stone. "Yes, please, come in."
He closed the door quickly behind him, locking it from the inside. She was huddled in a ball on her bed and hunched over, blankets strewn about in disarray. Her eyes were wide and wild, and he could see her trembling even from a distance. He took a tentative step forward, not wanting to alarm her, but his body yearning to hold her in his arms. It pained him to see her like this. She looked so small, so fragile, so far from the bold and fearless girl he had come to know and admire. This sad creature was not his Mary, and he damned Catherine to hell for what she had done.
"I've posted guards outside your door, and several more around Catherine's. No one is going to come in or out unless you or I say so." He paused, but she did not reply - only looked down at her hands and twisted them nervously, breathing quick, ragged breaths.
Bash cautiously took another step. "Mary, I swear, she's going to die for this. We have witnesses, evidence - she can't slither her way out of this one." Quiet doubt filled the air, but neither of them were willing to speak the truth - Queen Catherine had managed to stay alive this long; she might have another trick up her sleeve, another card she had yet to play.
He wouldn't think about that possibility now. Not when Mary so desperately needed to hope in something, for justice to prevail.
He sighed softly. "I'm so..." What, sorry? What good would that do for her? Sorry wouldn't make her life any easier, nor the choices they've vowed to make, and it wouldn't give her all the things she deserved. She deserved so much more than this.
He hung his head and turned to go. "I'll leave you be."
"No!" Mary exclaimed, shoving her blankets aside and rushing to him. Her feet were light and noiseless on the cold floor, her fingers like ice as they gripped his arms tightly. Her eyes shone with tears and desperation.
"Please, don't. I don't trust the guards. I don't trust the servants. I don't trust anyone in this bloody castle anymore except for those who came with me to live under it." She gasped for air and Bash cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing a soothing line down her cheeks. She grasped his forearms with her tiny fingers and met his eyes.
"Stay with me tonight. I don't think I can manage to be alone right now. I trust you." She hiccuped, and her voice dropped. "Please, Bash, say you'll stay."
She looked at him so pleadingly, eyes filled to the brim with tears that could overflow at any moment, and her face so stricken that it would surely crumple at his denial - and how could he deny her anything? Here he was, ready to marry her and take the throne from his half-brother, a throne he did not want, but if Mary asked him of it he would make it so. He would move the mountains for her, if that was what she wished.
Bash nodded, giving her a smile to reassure her. "Of course I'll stay." He patted the long-sword at his waist. "No one will get past me, I swear."
Mary closed her eyes with relief and exhaled, loosening her iron grip on him. She melted into his chest, embracing him as her arms circled around his back and came to rest on his shoulder blades. "Thank you." She breathed, and Bash had to fight to keep still as the scent of her hair rose up to meet him. He let his chin rest on the crown of her head, touching a tendril between two fingers.
"Come," He said. "You've made a mess out of your bedsheets - what will the maids say if they see this rat's nest?"
Mary smiled, but he could tell she was still troubled and nervous, although she let him lead her back to the bed. They picked up the fallen blankets and re-made the bed together, one of them on each side. Bash tried not to think about the bed they might share together once they were married; it was too tempting to lose himself in these daydreams, and yet he could think of nothing else as they lifted the sheets by the corners and thrust them into the air, the falling fabric revealing inch by inch of Mary's face, softly illuminated by the candles placed on her table.
She climbed into bed on all fours, the way a child might, and it made him grin like a little boy. She adjusted her pillows and fluffed them, and Bash took a handful of the blankets and pulled them towards her, covering her body as gently as if she were made of glass. Mary laid down, keeping her eyes on him as he drew the covers to her chest, letting them fall before he dared go any higher. After a split second of hesitation, he leaned over her body and began to tuck the covers around her legs and along her waist, eliciting a giggle that made his heart skip a beat.
"Does that tickle?" Bash jested with a smile.
Mary nodded. "A little, yes." Her face suddenly grew sad as she settled deeper into the bed. "No one has done that for me since I was a little girl." She said.
Bash pushed her blankets under her feet in a neat little ball. "Your mother?"
"No," Mary replied, her voice full of grief. "The maids." She twisted a strand of hair, gazing at nothing in particular, lost in memory.
Bash let one hand rest on her shoulder, his thumb stroking gently. "I would have liked to have seen you as a child, I think."
"I'm told I was very precocious." Mary admitted.
"Was? Are you not still?" Bash joked. They shared a laugh and Mary reached out to take his hand. Her face grew melancholy after a moment and the reminder of the night's events plagued them both once more.
The silence pierced the air and Bash suddenly felt too warm. He cleared his throat. "Mary, are you sure you want me here? I mean, will my presence... will you be able to..." He desperately searched for a more civil way to say what was on his mind: Would it be uncomfortable for her that he would be in her room all night, standing guard and watching her as she slept?
Mary shook her head quickly. "No, no - Bash, I promise you, I'll feel much safer if-" She stopped, her face coloring slightly. "Please, I want you to stay."
Bash smiled and nodded, letting his eyes drop to their hands. "Alright. If you're sure." Reluctantly, he rose from her side and let her fingers fall from his own. He stared down at her for a moment too long, but neither of them could tear their gaze away. Finally, Bash reached for his courage and bent down, leaving a lingering kiss on her forehead. He could not see it, but Mary's eyes closed at his touch.
"Sleep, Mary." He whispered as he drew back. "I promise you'll come to no harm."
"I know." She whispered back.
He pulled up a chair at the foot of her bed, his back facing her, and sat down. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword, testing the weight if he had to draw it quickly, and made himself vigilant. He could hear Mary shifting behind him and the sound of her body against the sheets was enough to peak his nerves.
It would be a long night.