The Forgotten Ones

Chapter 1

She isn't sure how she finds herself there, standing in front of a king she thought she loved and speaking vows she doesn't mean to his son, a man she doesn't even know. She thinks this is the end of all of her dreams, her hopes, her fantasies. She had known, of course, that love was no longer on the table for her. Not since Henry lost his mind and she lost her purity. But she had hoped to at least find a man with so much wealth she could lose herself, and lose what was left of her childish fantasies.

Standing in front of Bash, his hands clutching hers and his eyes wild, she knows those hopes and dreams are lost.

"Please. This is marriage. It can't be undone..." She's crying like a little girl, and the words flowing out of her mouth aren't the ones she wants to say, but they are the only ones she can say.

Henry snarls at her, his hand going to his sword and out of concern for her or his own sense of self-preservation, Bash snatches her hands and pulls her closer, saying the vows in a quick clipped business like tone.

And so she becomes the Lady of Horse and Hunt.

The first night is torture. There's an awkward conversation about sleeping arrangements. She insists on sleeping in her own quarters, but the very next day she finds a group of servants in her quarters boxing up her things. Henry isn't often so thorough, and she hates that he chose now of all the times to show such attention to detail. Head held high despite the tears that spring back into her eyes, she makes her way back to Bash's rooms.

She knocks, because she's still too shaken to be her usual bold self, and it's an endless minute until he finally opens the door.

"Keena?"

She meets his gaze. "I no longer have a rooms."

There's no confusion in his eyes, and he steps to one side to allow her entrance. Her things, she finds, have been boxed up and abandoned in the stray corner's of Bash's sparse room. She swallows and glances back at him, and there's an uncomfortable moment when they both realize exactly what this spells out for them. Bash tries to hide his own frustration, but she's a courtier, and she's learned to read the slight furrow of brows for what it is.

Disapproval. Anger. Frustration.

She knows she isn't what he wants, and she hates him because she also knows she's less than he deserves. Keena won't admit that to herself, of course, but the truth is hiding just beneath the surface and they both know it.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he finally says, reaching for a pillow off the bed.

"Thank you."

He doesn't say anything, just gives her a look of pure pity. She hates him for it.

She finds a nightgown in the third box she opens, and after a slight moment of hesitation she undresses. Her fingers fumbles with the ties of her dress, and she fights the urge to scream. It takes four tugs, but at last the dress falls to her feet and she slips into the more comfortable material of her nightgown.

The bed sheets are soft, comfortable, and fitting of the king's favorite bastard, but they smell foreign. They are a combination of the smell of steel and weapons and gardens. It is a reminder that he is not a lord, and he did not grow up in the shelter of a castle with the manners of a well groomed noble.

She falls asleep listening to him shift left and right on the floor, and fighting a feeling of guilt that she lets him stay there.

In the morning light, the room seems smaller. She's certain it doesn't help that her things are still spread out across the floor in crates, but the anger that wells up in her stomach takes over all rationality. She tries to use his shaving mirror, but it's far too small for her to get a good look at what she's doing.

She tosses her brush down, "Your shaving table is useless."

Bash glances at her out of the corner of his eye, "We'll have your dressing table and mirror brought in."

He's being reasonable, and she hates him for it. She is not a reasonable person, particularly when angry.

It's their first spat. It isn't their last.

"Strangely enough, I give a damn about my country."

He rears back slightly at her words, and his eyes as he looks at her are full of disbelief. She knows he was shocked to hear that it was Mary who sent her into the lion's den. On any other day, she might have felt a tinge of remorse over so thoroughly destroying his illusions, but not today. Today she feels only anger, because contrary to what he might think, she is not the most selfish woman in all of France and because she's just spent the last three hours of her life in absolute terror while he was being Mary's white knight.

"What was at stake for you?" She demands.

She told him earlier she wasn't jealous. At the time, she thought she meant it. Hearing herself now, she isn't so sure.

When they share a bed that night, it's because she wakes up screaming. She isn't sure who is more surprised. She can't recall the last time she behaved like such a child, but Henry had cornered her in his quarters, and she had gone to bed feeling lost, alone, and threatened. The memory of his hands on her is no longer pleasant, but revolting. And worse still, the realization that she cannot do anything to stop him.

She brings her hand up to her face, but Bash is already there taking her by the shoulders.

"Keena."

She shakes her head at him, "No, it's nothing."

He shakes her again, this time harder. "Keena." He cups her face in his hands, "Breathe," he says, "I'm right here." Without preamble, he settles on the bed beside her, one arm settling around her shoulders and the other pulling her legs over his. "It's alright."

She tries to speak. Tries to tell him that she's fine. Instead, a hysterical giggle escapes her and her shoulders shake with tears.

Bash doesn't say anything, but he does pull her closer.

He doesn't leave her side that night. She doesn't push him away.

He gives her his grandmother's ring, and the walls she put up crumble a little more. He's right, it's modest and nothing she would have ever thought she wanted. It's also perfect.

Keena sees his face when Penelope demands the ring, and her heart breaks for him. She hates Penelope and Henry right then, for doing this to him. She also feels a very real fear for him, when he appears over her shoulder.

"It isn't right." His expression is furious, and looking at him, Keena has absolutely no doubts that he is mere seconds away from challenging his father.

She puts her hand up to stop him, and as Henry and Penelope walk away, she turns her entire body toward him.

"True, but I'd also like you to live."

The words escape her as they always do. She wonders if he hears the implication behind her statement. The one that screams to her I care about you, but Bash does not flinch at her admission. In fact, he doesn't even seem to notice it.

She watches him walk away, and tries to ignore the lingering disappointment in the pit of her stomach.

He leaves to hunt The Darkness, and she finds her bed is lonely and the room she thought too small, is actually far too large. She will never admit it out loud, but she sleeps on his pillow that first night and every night after. If she closes her eyes and breathes in deep, she can almost pretend he's at her side and his arm is tucked around her waist.

Almost.

The memory of their first kiss plays over and over again in her mind, and she wishes for release. Wishes he was there to give it to her.

Each day without him is a little more painful than the last. Greer keeps her company, distracting her for a little while with her own worries about Leith, Castleroy and her family, but it isn't enough.

"Bash and I," she begins, abruptly and without announcement, "I think… I think I may have feelings for him." She puts a hand to her forehead, then shakes her head, "No, not feelings. Just…"

"Attraction?" Greer smiles at her, "Kenna, he's young and handsome. It's only natural."

"But…" She wants to explain to her friend that this feels anything but natural. The need for him is starting to choke her, and she simply cannot live like this.

"But, nothing," Greer tosses her hair even as she reaches for Kenna's hand. "This is wonderful. If you and Bash were to reach a mutual understanding, so much the better."

She wants to say that they do have a mutual understanding. Infidelity with either Mary or the King will not be tolerated. They will be frank and honest with each other always. They will guard each other's interests. The problem is that no where in their mutual understanding does it mention feelings or attraction or anything that might complicate their agreement.

And yet, she cannot seem to push down the need in the pit of her stomach.

When the kitchen girl tells her that Bash has returned, she very nearly runs the entire way to their quarters with her heart in her throat. But she has not forgotten who she is, and so she slows to a walk and calms her breathing and her heart before arranging her hair and pushing the door open.

As luck would have it, Bash is removing his shirt, and the need she's spent the last weeks decidedly ignoring rears its head and pushes its way into every nerve in her body. She pauses in the doorway, the door closing behind her and tries rather desperately to think of something to say.

"I stopped by our new house on the way back; it needs work before we can live there," he turns to look at her, "especially if we want to bring it to your standards." The corner of his mouth curls up, and his eyes soften in a way that she knows his words aren't sardonic or cruel, but gentle and teasing.

She smiles genuinely for the first time in weeks. There's something about knowing that after two weeks hunting in the forest, he still thought to do something for her. "Bash, that's lovely, but what happened out there? You've been out in the woods for weeks hunting that creature, have you found it yet?"

"The Darkness?" He steps towards her and reaches for her hands, "No sign of it yet, but it's only a matter of time. The blood wood is vast but not limitless," the pads of his fingers trace circles on the backs of her hands. "Have you been alright? I hope there haven't been any more encounters with the King."

"I've been staying out of his way," she replies, inching closer as smile plays at the corner of her lips, "waiting for you to return."

He smiles into her mouth as he closes the distance between them. The very moment his lips touch hers, she swears she feels fire spread through every inch of her body. His hand comes up to cup the back of her head, bringing her closer to him, so that she's pressed up against his chest, but just as she's about to concede all rational thought in favor of kissing him until the end of eternity, he pulls away.

She tries to clamp down the frustration that burns through her, "Why do you stop? It's not our first kiss, you're my husband, it's alright. It's not as though I'm inexperienced."

"I'm well aware of that," the lilt at the end of his sentence is not the same teasing one as before. This tone is dry and frustrated.

"If you wanted a virgin," she pulls away, and already she can feel her walls rebuilding.

"No, I don't," his hands pull her closer, "but I care about your experience and I know, not all of it has been good."

"There's no changing that now," though she wishes there was.

"I disagree," he turns her body around, tucking her back against his chest as he pulls the shawl from about her shoulders. As the air touches her bare skin, she fights the urge to shiver. Then his lips find their way to her neck, and confusion is the only thing that keeps her coherent enough to ask.

"What are you doing?"

He tosses her shawl aside, "Helping you forget everything," their hands come together against her stomach, "and everyone that's come before this." His lips trace the shell of her ear, "Tell me what you want," he whispers, "very specifically. Leave nothing out."

She still isn't entirely sure what he's doing - Henry never asked her opinion - but she's never been shy about saying exactly what she wants. She reaches back for him, her hand cupping the back of his neck as she turns her head to smile at him coyly. "Alright," she says. She speaks the words, and even as she's whispering to him, he returns to his torture of minutes before. His smile grows as she speaks, and his grip tightens as she feels his body react.

Their hands move together down the material of her dress, and finally, finally, his hands find the part of her body that has so ached for him. She gasps, leaning her weight up against him and forgets everything - and everyone - that came before this.

She almost forgets that she's isn't the only one with a past. Mary is her queen, but she is also the closest thing Kenna has to a sister. The thought of her in Bash's arms honestly makes Kenna sick to her stomach. And worse still is the reality that no matter how difficult the situation becomes, Kenna will never be able to speak up about it. Because the woman in question is Mary, and she is a queen. Kenna, on the other hand, is a fallen mistress.

But when she feels the desperation of his kisses increase, and he suddenly can't look her in the eye, she sheds that title for another: wife. She is his wife. And that is a title she's never had before. It's also a title that she will never have to share with anyone - not even Mary. He is her husband. Hers and no one else's.

She remembers, in that moment, the feel of his lips trailing down her body. There's still more that I want you to forget… I want you to forget every boy who ever smiled at you. EVery man who ever flirted with you. Everyone but me.

"Look at me," she pleads. "Am I the only one in this bed with something to forget?"

He pauses, "What do you mean?" And finally, he tilts his head up and his eyes find hers.

"When you're with me," she pushes his hair from his face, "I want to be the only one inside your head." He doesn't answer, but he kisses her neck, his body beginning to move against her again. It's not the response she wants. She tightens her grip and forces him back. "I want you to look into my eyes and see only me. I want you to always remember what I feel like," she runs her fingers across his jaw, and watches as his eyes soften, "so that when you're using your fingers from some other task, you wish they were touching me instead." The way hers ache for him.

"I will."

It's not enough. She pulls away slightly as he movs toward her again, their lips so close that as she speaks they run across one another. "I want you to always remember what it feels like, to be with your wife."

His response is instantaneous. She can feel the shift in his mood in the split second that he gazes at her head on, his eyes bright and focused. He smiles at her, and she knows he's seeing her. She thinks, looking at him, that she could lose herself in this feeling between them forever.

When he kisses her, she realizes she's already been lost.

The morning after her first night with Henry, she felt shame and doubt. She woke in his arms, but felt lonelier than she'd ever felt. The morning after her first night with Bash, she wakes with an unfamiliar warmth in her chest. There's a feeling of security she's never known before when his arm around her waist tightens in his sleep and buries his face in her neck.

She sighs happily, running her fingers across the back of his hand as she settles back into their shared pillow. Then his hand begins to drift south, and she laughs.

"You're not asleep."

"Sleep is a waste of time," he says against her skin. "I'd rather be touching you."

She feels a shiver run down her spine at his words. "Well," she says, gasping as his hands continue their exploration of her skin, "by all means."

They don't leave their bed for most of the day. She discovers that the fire between them is not easily extinguishable. She turns in his arms and hopes that never changes.

She discovers that giving herself away physically is far less challenging or frightening than opening herself up emotionally. As the days pass, she finds herself wanting to tell Bash all the secret inner workings of her heart and mind, but each time she opens her mouth to speak, fear stops her. She will admit, at least to herself, that his judgement frightens her. She's made so many mistakes… what if he doesn't understand?

And to make matters worse, he is equally silent about his past. She knows that they agreed to keep the past in the past, but she's convinced they need to discuss it. Staying silent is making them both fill in all the blanks with torturing thoughts and conclusions. It's making her mad with jealousy. She isn't sure if she's afraid or hopeful that he feels the same.

Everything goes to hell a month or so after their first night together.

There's a party to celebrate to celebrate the arrival of some nobles that are distant relatives of the Queen. As usual, there's dancing and dresses and court dramatics. Keena is in the ballroom standing beside Greer. Her friend is trying to be subtle as she glances this way and that, looking away from Lord Castleroy to glance over at Leith. Leith, who returned from the war to stand by Francis' side as a new found friend and ally. Leith, who arrived just a few short weeks before Greer's wedding to throw everything into turmoil with his newly minted title and lands.

Kenna reaches for her friends hand in sympathy, but doesn't say anything. Words, she's learned, are sometimes more trouble than they're worth.

Out of habit, she searches for Bash's familiar head of brown hair in the crowd. Her furrows brow as she realizes, he's nowhere to be found. He'd stepped away just a few minutes earlier to fetch them both drinks. She's considered, of course, that he might have gotten distracted on his way back to her, but it isn't like Bash to run off without at least excusing himself first.

"Greer," she asks, "do you see Bash?"

Her friend tears her eyes away from Leith long enough to scan the room. "No, I don't." She shrugs in dismissal, "He's likely just stepped away for a minute. Don't be so anxious."

She nods, "Yes, of course you're probably right."

But there's a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she can't shake, because Bash isn't the only person missing in the room.

Mary isn't there either.

She waits for fifteen minutes longer before making her excuses and slipping away from Greer. She makes her way out into the hallway, drifting this way and that with no real idea of what she even intends to find.

And then she hears it - the murmur of Bash's voice. It's a tone she's learned to recognize clearly, because it's one she hears most every night in their bedroom. She steps around the corner just in time to see Sebastian reach for her queen, tucking her into his arms with a familiarity that literally makes her feel ill.

Mary does not shy away from his embrace, rather tucking himself into his arms as she sighs. "I've changed so much," she says, "I wish sometimes that I could go back."

Kenna hates everything about that moment. She hates the warmth in Bash's eyes. She hates her queen for being so perfect. And more than anything, she hates her complete inability to do much more than stand there silently. Because she's once more reminded that Mary is her queen, and she is nothing more than a discarded mistress.

"Kenna, what are you-"

Kenna spins around to silence her friend, but it's too late. Mary and Sebastian have jumped apart in surprise, and Sebastian's eyes as they look at her are a mix of panic and guilt. Greer, for her part, reaches for Kenna's hand and squeezes. Her friend does not say anything.

"Kenna," Mary is the first to react to the betrayal that Kenna knows is displaying across her entire expression. "This isn't what it looks like. Bash was just helping me solve a dispute with the Queen. I wasn't sure if Francis-"

"You are my queen," Kenna interrupts, "you owe me no explanation."

And with her head held high, she turns and walks away.

A/N: It's not over yet!