The Queen and the Lion (Set after episode 11: Mary seeks solace in Bash)
The queen descended the stairs as if she was gliding in her white gown like a water lily floating over the turns of flowing water. She had two guards who had gone ahead of her, and two followed her along from behind.
The two guards who waited at the bottom of the stairs could tell you of the queen's beauty and youth, the delicate outline of her gentle face, the fairness of her porcelain skin, the blush of her rosy cheeks, the fullness of her lips and the fall of her thick ebony hair, that was adorned with beaded braids and a simple tiara of silver maple leaves and gemed flowers. However, they could also see the weariness in her amber eyes and the light purple bruising beneath them, showing her lack of sleep. She seemed more tired and worn than a woman twice her age should be.
The two guards from the back could tell you of the queens gentle grace, her flawless steps, her perfectly curved figure; how she walked as with the grace of an angel and yet the prowess of a lioness. But, they could also see the slight slump in her shoulders, her hands clenching a bit to tightly on the skirt of her dress.
The poor queen was not just a queen but a girl becoming a woman, and instead of security and council, she was given dishonesty and endless attempts on her life since before she could walk.
Three of these four guards new the most recent strain on the poor, young queen of Scotland; they had been present when the queen of France tried to poison her as she bathed. They were there when the robes and jewels of Mary Queen of Scots was striped to leave nothing but a trembling, undressed girl struggling to breathe. She currently sought the same arms that had pulled her out of the water the night she came the closest to losing her life.
It had not been five days since then, and this was the first time the Lord Regent, the bastard son of King Henry had left her side. He had been told by her ladies-and-waiting to get fresh air as Mary had rested that afternoon. He probably hadn't left the castle since that horrid night, and was probably filled with anxiety at thought of leaving her alone, despite the number of her guards increasing, and Mary's own anxiety keeping her from trailing too far from her own corner of French Court.
Mary walked with her feigning strength until she found Bash out on the castle grounds in the light of the setting sun, practicing his archery. It was only then she let the guards leading her fall behind with the others, letting her approach the handsome youth with a little privacy. Bash took a shot before sensing her presence and hit the target straight on, almost perfectly.
She let out a small smile before clapping her hands at his victory, a slow and barely audible clap, but it did not go unnoticed by the woodsman. Bash turned and beheld his queen in the glow of the orange light from the sun, radiant as the first time he beheld her. Just the sight of her warmed his soul and drained his anxieties. Her safety had been his obsession since he pulled her from that fatal bath that nearly swept her away from him. The thought of how close he came to losing her made him physically ill.
After all this madness; having both his mother and brother leave him, his father using him as a pawn, willing to put his head on the chopping block for his self gain; it was only in Mary he could find any light. She had always been the star on his horizon, something always out of his reach, to be admired and nothing more. But now, amidst all the misfortune of his family and the young queen, fate somehow managed to smile on him, giving him the wings to touch stars, to be with Mary. To lose her, would very easily leave him an abyss of darkness.
He smiled lightly at her as she approached him. It was only at the sight of him that her eyes could find any spark, or that her feet could find any lightness in their step. For, with him in sight, she was no longer in danger, he would protect her. With him near, there was a stability she never quite felt with anyone. His love was so certain, his devotion so genuine, it was something she cherished deep within her heart.
"Mary." he breathed out, not even bothering with formalities. "I hoped to return before you awoke, are you alright?"
She placed a hand on his arm as he met her half way to ease his worries. "I'm alright, I needed to get away for a while, to see something other than stone walls."
"Shall I walk with you?" he asked.
"I don't want to interrupt you from your archery." she replied. "Heaven knows you have little time to exercise your many talents… might I watch you?"
"I am to entice my lady with archery, then?" he asked lightly, returning to his stance with his bow, bringing reminiscence of the Sebastian she had first met returning to court. It was quiet a moment before he released another fine shot, that wobbled in the white near the center.
"You mirror some of the best I've seen." she told him, eying the arrow that was burrowed into the red heart of the target.
"I've had plenty of time to practice." he replied, pulling another arrow from the quiver.
He glanced her way as he aligned the arrow with his bow. He could see the weariness and fragility still weighing on her shoulders. He let out a sigh, wishing for once he could give her the shelter that she so longed for, a way to renew her worn out strength.
"Come here." he told her.
"Why?" she tilted her head, but approached him none-the-less.
"Have you ever shot an arrow before, Your Grace?" he asked her, taking her hand to tow her closer.
Her eyebrows raised significantly. "No, I don't believe the nuns teach any of their tenants archery, specifically not queens, I'm sure that's not proper."
He smiled at her sarcasm and handed his already aligned bow. "Would you care to try?"
She looked a little unsure for only a moment before she nodded. "Why not, I've already jumped off a cliff with you, this seems much more docile."
"Only in practice." he replied, though his smile hadn't left his face. "Here, now just hold it a little lower than your own height, and if the pulls too strong don't strain your arms."
"I'm not as fragile as you think I am, Sebastian." she told him, taking a roughly decent position for an inexperienced archer.
"No." he agreed as she pulled back on the bow with very little strain. She always called him Sebastian when she was cross with him or trying to poised. "I should say not."
"Shall I let go now?" she asked, eyeing the target.
"Not yet," he said coming up behind her.
He gently lowered her elbow with one hand and straitened her aim with the other, bringing them close in a rather intimate embrace. He could smell the vanilla fragrance of her hair and feel her slightly nervous breathing.
"Everything comes down to the last moment; after you've aimed, you want to open both eyes, you want to release it as you exhale." he whispered in her ear.
She nodded in reply, and queen or not, she could feel the color rising to her cheeks.
"Take your time and release when you're ready." he told her, gently pulling his guiding hands away.
Her eyes glanced at him for the briefest of seconds, before they locked with the target once more. After a moment of aiming she released her first arrow and it hit in the white field before the bull's-eye, making Bash's eyebrows rise in amazement.
Mary let out a surprised, breathy laugh at her near accuracy. She spun to face her teacher. "That was close, wasn't it!?"
"Quite close, especially for a beginner!" he told her, giving her his first full smile in ages. To see her even the slightest bit happy made his dark world radiate with sunlight and warmth. "As always, it seems you are a natural."
Without warning she leapt into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Though surprised, he caught her and held her close, reveling in the softness and fragrance that he was now becoming more accustomed to in these embraces and kisses that were becoming often and lasting longer. She came back to earth before he could say a word.
"Could I try again?" she asked.
He looked at her with a scrunched up nose at how ridiculous it was for her to ask that. "As many times as you wish, Your Grace." he spoke with feigned formality, bowing a little.
"Why thank you, my lord." she played along as he retrieved the arrows.
"I should have brought another bow with me." he said as he handed her an arrow, showing her how to align it.
"I'll only try once more." she said, "Yours is a bit too long for me anyway."
"We'll have to make you your own, have it customized for you." he said, again reminded that they would be spending the rest of their lives together.
"I'd like that." she said under her breath, almost as if she was speaking to herself instead of to him, as she pulled the bow back again. "Maybe then I could protect myself."
Bash's smile faltered a little. "Mary…"
"I could stop being a danger to everyone around me." she said quietly, the small spark in her fading. "I wouldn't be the reason people die or have to leave because…"
"Mary, enough." Bash said a little louder, unable to listen to her speak about herself that way.
She released her arrow, this time it was in the farthest ring, barely making the target at all. She lowered the bow and suppressed a sob.
Bash took her shoulders and gently turned her to face him, the tears had not fallen but they were in her eyes. Gone was Mary the warrior queen who had conquered the forces of the evil Catherine de Medici, and now returned a glimpse of Mary, the naïve young girl who had just left the convent with big eyes and a tender heart.
"What's all this?" he asked her gently, ducking to see her face behind the curtain of her hair.
"I'm sorry…" she said, blinking and wiping her eyes.
"You're always apologizing to me when there is no need for it." he told her, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Nothing has ever been your fault."
She enveloped into him almost eagerly. To just have someone comfort her, to hold her and protect her like he had over the last few weeks was more than she could ask for.
"I like to pretend I've moved on from everything that I have went through… that I have moved on from Aylee and Francis and all that Catherine has done to me… but…"
"I know." he soothed her, running a gentle hand through her hair. "I'm here."
She pulled her arms around him tighter in response. "She almost killed me. She was like a mother to me once and she…"
"No more dwelling on her wickedness." he told her. "Catherine cannot hurt you anymore."
She pulled away to dive into the warm waters that were his eyes and seek their solace.
"I am her to protect you, always." he pressed his lips to her forehead.
…
Again, this is just going to be a collection of whatever comes to mind, I would love prompts, I will write about anything!