Author's Note: I own no claim over anything but the story line, and realize I am taking a great liberty with history (but that's what fanfic is for, right!) =) And yes, in case you were wondering, the title of this story is in reference to the wonderful 1966 movie starring Paul Scofield as Sir Thomas More.
Mary knew things were changing between her and Francis. He rarely visited her chambers at night anymore. Apparently, he was seeking solace elsewhere. Even their daytime visits were growing shorter as well, as his princely duties were being shoved to the forefront.
It did not help that the eyes of everyone around the court were constantly on her waist, anxiously awaiting the announcement of a possible future royal heir. She knew Francis was worried about children. It had already been a year with no luck. Maybe something is wrong with me? Mary wondered. If Francis had a bastard, there were ways to make them a legitimate heir. England had already proved that issue. But it pained Mary to think about it. About Francis loving a child that was not their's.
Maybe it would be best in the end. Mary knew, deep down, he meant no disrespect to her. He loved her, and valued her person and her opinion. He was merely exercising his right as the Dauphin to, as the British might say, "eat the trough dry." An unfortunate right exercised by many men at court, but obviously not a right for a married princess. He may be growing a garden for all I know, Mary thought.
At least it was a 'right' openly discussed among the women of the court. Thanks to the gossiping lips and eyes of her ladies-in-waiting, Mary knew all the blackest of the black personal details of the French court. She knew the King never shared the Queen's bed anymore. She knew the Queen was constantly in the dungeon, presumably with Nostradamus, but no one knew for sure why. She knew the names of Francis' mistresses, but she kept their other secrets filed away for potential use. She also knew, much to her dismay and worry, that her dear half brother-in-law, Sebastian, would rather be out riding, than courting one of the many women who constantly doted at the feet of the King's bastard-born son.
In one aspect, maybe that is why she sought out Sebastian in the first place. Someone who would not mind her venting about Francis. Then again, being his brother, venting to him might be the worst decision ever.
Breakfast was just ending in the great hall. Francis had already left for the Council meeting with his father, leaving Mary alone, as usual. Glancing around the hall, Mary quickly found the blue eyes she sought. With a small hand gesture, she beckoned Sebastian over to her table.
"You summoned, Your Grace?" The words falling teasingly off his tongue. Mary smiled. He was cheeky.
"Yes, Sebastian. I would like to go riding today." A look of confusion crossed his face, and worry crossed Mary's. "You do ride often, do you not? Or maybe I was misinformed..." She stammered a bit at the last part, starting to feel embarrassed by her forwardness.
"No, I do, Your Grace. I was just trying to understand whether you wanted me to do a stable boys dirty work and ready your horse, or whether you wanted to accompany me on a ride?" Mary laughed, an easiness re-entering her mind.
"Oh the latter, I can assure you." Sebastian nodded and stood, extending his elbow in offering to Mary. Her hand slipped easily around his arm, and she followed him gracefully out of the hall.
"Shall we?"
"Is not the countryside beautiful, Sebastian?" There was an awe in Mary's voice and she turned and surveyed the land before her. Sebastian knew exactly what she meant, but he also thought the countryside held no beauty when compared to Mary.
It was an honor for her to single him out for companionship. He knew he had his brother to thank, since he knew Francis was slipping into his old, flirtatious self. Mary deserved better than to be shoved aside, of that Sebastian was sure.
"It is, your Grace."
"Please, how often must I tell you? When we are together like this, please call me Mary. 'Your Grace' sounds...so...matriarchal." Sebastian chuckled.
"Only if you will call me 'Bash', as so many do."
"No, Sebastian, I think not. I rather like your full name. It is very regal." He smirked at her. He was anything but regal. "Besides, I think I will reserve 'Bash' for a more appropriate time." At this acknowledgment, Sebastian was puzzled.
"And what time would that be, Mary?"
"Honestly, I do not know. But I will." Her voice was softer with these words. Sebastian let himself easily dream of a very intimate way that voice might say his name.
"Sebastian?" Mary started, turning around to face him. She lovingly stroked the muzzle of her horse, trying to form the appropriate sentence in her mind. "What have I done to displease Francis?" Sebastian did not like the direction this conversation was heading. He knew Mary would eventually bring up her troubles with his brother, and he wanted no part of their intimate quarrels.
"Nothing, Mary. He is a man. We are men. Francis is merely doing what most other men at court do. So he has a mistress? Or two or three. That does not mean he is displeased with you." Sebastian realized how awful those words sounded after he said them.
"Does it not? Unlike many political marriages, I actually love Francis, and he loves me. I thought our marriage would be different." Mary straightened her back, and turned a penetrating stare on Sebastian. "I am sorry for putting you in the middle of my troubles. That was impolite and improper. But tell me, Sebastian, if you loved a woman dearly, married her even, would you tire of her so quickly?"
"To be honest, that kind of love is few and far between. I do not think I will ever be granted that luxury."
"But would you ever leave her this way? Alone and confused?" Mary prodded.
"Of course not, Mary. But my opinion does not matter." Sebastian turned around, hoping to put an end to the conversation.
"It does matter, Sebastian. Why would it not matter?" Sebastian sighed. Please do not make me tell you, he thought.
"It is getting late. We should head back to the castle." And without so much as a look back towards Mary, he mounted his horse and started back.
While the weather was decent, Mary and Sebastian took daily rides around the castle grounds. Occasionally, Greer or Lola would join them, but normally they were alone. Mary never discussed her problems with Francis again, which Sebastian was exceedingly glad of. She talked about Francis, and other things that were going on, but never their intimate relationship. Sebastian let her do most of the talking, reveling in the sound of her voice. Several times, he found he had no recollection of what she actually said, as he was simply enjoying the sweet sound.
"Did you hear me, Sebastian?" Mary asked, pulling her horse to a stop next to his.
"Um, sorry, what did you say?" Sebastian blinked out of his trance, hoping she was not angered. Mary rolled her eyes.
"I said we should probably be heading back towards the castle. I need to get ready for the festival tonight."
"Oh, right, the festival."
"Is there anyone you plan on dancing with tonight?" Mary's eyes were alight, obvious to Sebastian that she was digging around for a little bit of gossip.
"Unless I dance with you, I will not be dancing at all." He said matter-of-factly.
"Seriously, Sebastian." Mary huffed, giving him a glare that was bordering on humorous.
"I am serious, Mary. There is no one I would dance with besides you." Mary could tell by the look on Sebastian's face that he was being completely honest. Mary's stomach begin to flutter uneasily.
"And why is that, Sebastian?" Her voice lacked the humor it previously displayed, and she had a hard time fighting the tremor in her voice. He bowed his head for a moment, clearly trying to organize his thoughts.
"I hoped I would not have to explain it to you, Mary." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I care for you. Deeply. There is no one else I would rather dance with, or be with, than you."
"Oh, Sebastian ..."
"I know I have no right to speak to you like this because you are married to my brother, and will be my Queen one day. But you asked, and I will not deny you anything." The fluttering returned to Mary's stomach as he spoke. She had not heard such sincere devotion spoken to her in a long time. Most likely since she first arrived, and was beginning to know Francis again.
"You deserve someone who can love you the way you should be loved." Mary whispered. "I cannot. Even if I loved you, I cannot give you that."
"Oh believe me, I know." He sighed. "That is why I treasure these moments with you. Because for a split second, I can pretend you can."
Mary smiled sadly at him. She wished she could pretend with him too. It would be nice to feel loved and adored again. A long time ago, Mary would have said their were no other arms she would prefer around her than Francis'. But now? She could not answer that question. She reached out a hand toward Sebastian, and grasped his outreached one firmly.
"I do love you, Sebastian. You are a wonderful brother, and friend." She squeezed his hand gently.
"I am a horrible brother."
Mary felt her hand raise, and soft lips brush against her knuckles. She glanced and Sebastian, his emotional struggle clearly written on his face. He gently released her hand, grabbing the reigns of his horse.
"Best we get back before I say anything else I might regret."
"Of course. We do not want to be late." Mary replied softly, looking anywhere but at him.
"Promise to save me one dance, Mary, that is all I ask."
"I will save you two, if you promise that we will continue to be good friends."
He nodded. He did not want to make that promise, for he hoped, just maybe, she might see him as more than friend in the future. Even thinking such a thought was dangerous, and he knew he needed to keep his emotions in check. But when he looked at Mary, what emotions he tried to suppress would cut him open like a sword. Gazing back at Mary, she was watching him anxiously.
"Good friends." He mumbled, turning again before he could see her reaction. "Let us head back."
