Hi everyone,

This is my first Mabastian or Mash fiction, as you prefer. I really hope you will like this story. Don't think it will be a multi-chapter one but who knows? Depends on my inspiration and of course, your reactions :)

English is not my first language so I really want to thank my beta-reader for this fanfic, Prettylittleliarxxx. It was our first cooperation but I hope not our last.

For my dear followers who appreciate "Tethered" (Guy/Marian's fanfiction) and who are waiting for the next chapter, don't worry, I am NOT letting this story down. I'm working on it! But when I made some gifs for my mabastian/mash's blog, this idea came to my mind and I couldn't help but write it.

Now, come back to the more important here: enjoy this chapter and please, don't forget to review ;) and... Thanks again!

Chapter 1

Finally, Mary succeeded in having some little time to herself. She loved being with her friends, as she hadn't seen them for several long years, but she had to admit she missed her time alone at the convent.

Being at Court was not as enjoyable as she had dreamed when she was younger. She thought she would be warmly welcomed; first by her loved friends, by Catherine, the Queen who received her so kindly when she arrived in France when she was six, but the most important was her reunion with Francis. She was sure he would be overwhelmed to see her again, happy to be with her again, ready to start their new life together and eager to share their mutual love for the rest of their life... like she was.

How wrong she had been! Well, not concerning her friends as Aylee, Lola and Greer were as sweet and warm with her as she had always known them to be, Kenna being more interested by the male sex and her possibility to find a rich husband than by being the Queen's lady-in-waiting. But Mary smiled at the thought... Kenna was and will always be... Kenna! And that was fine as her Queen was fond of her friend's eccentric temperament.

What the young lady didn't expect at all was the cold welcome she received from the Royal Family. Well, Henry was a strong but fair King. He told her how glad he was she had a safe trip and that he hoped she will feel at home at Court. Catherine, for her part, had been so much cooler than Mary remembered; the eldest Queen had been all politeness but her smile never reached her eyes, which seemed like dangerous daggers ready to shred apart her victims. The Scot girl couldn't help but shiver just at the reminder.

Francis had been as handsome as ever, as casual as she thought he will be and seemed eager to see her again. Their reunion on the park and after, at her late chamber – being now the Dauphin's workshop – had been as sweet and intense as she dreamed. She had felt her feelings growing stronger at his sight, talking with him with an open heart and strengthening their late closeness.

At first, she thought she had done well but when she came back later to give him the stone she found to insert at his sword's handle she had been so disappointed by his frostiness and by his haughty behaviour.

"If you are ever going to be the Queen of France, you need to understand something.Kings do not answer to their wives."

How she hated him saying that! How could he act like this with her? How could he be so cool after have been so charming and kind before? Who was this man really? Was he the Prince Charming she had always dreamed him to be, or some haughty spoilt rotten man viewing women as here only to please and serve him? Would he really consider her as a "faire-valoir" when they will be wed? Will she only be there to give him children and look pretty?

Certainly not! She was a Queen, and had been since she was a toddler! She had been raised to fulfill her mission, to guide Scotland, to help her people, to voice her concerns and certainly not to be only a window dressing.

She couldn't suppress the smile and blush that appeared on her face when she remembered how she described him to Sebastian:

"...such a moody, arrogant ass..."

Bash... the "gorgeous bastard" as Kenna put it.

"He has a terrible reputation with women, he knows no bounds", Aylee had added in a shocked voice while Mary couldn't help but add "Maybe it runs in the family" at the thought of Francis' behaviour.

Bash... the one who has "so many skills. He wants to learn something, he does, he wants to go somewhere, he goes." With the King's blessing apparently.

Bash... the one who found her dog and told her to avoid the woods because they were dangerous.

Bash... The one who told her she was not alone and that he was "not talking about [her] friends" just before he amended himself: "I meant I want you to be well, Your Grace." If she hadn't been so shaken by his words, she probably would have smirked at the "Your Grace" thing as he had called her Mary since the first time they had ever talked – without even asking her permission or waiting for her invitation beforehand, as the etiquette required it.

Why had he amended his words, she thought while starting to climb the stairs leading to the rampart walk; a place she liked to go when she needed to be alone and think. Was that because he feared she read too much in his words, or because Diane of Poitiers, his mother, had appeared and he wouldn't want her to hear what they were talking about?

Because their conversation definitely wasn't one two strangers should have had... he should never have mentioned or implied that he was here for her... but truly, he had been since her arrival when he prevented her from going into the woods and took care of her dog.

As she let her hand slide along the banister, a shiver ran through her at the remembrance of what she felt when he had first put his hands on her elbows to stop her. She had never had such intimate contact with a male before and had been shaken by how her body responded to his firm but gentle touch on her bare skin except for her shawl. The place where he left his hands on longer than necessary became suddenly warm with a strange tingle. Just the souvenir of this moment made Mary's body go through those feelings again... it certainly was not a good thing to feel that way for the brother of her betrothed.

No! She scowled at herself, she felt nothing about Bash... it was just that being near him seemed to stir something in her stomach... something she never felt before, something she would never even have thought she could feel someday.

Being with Francis made her feel giddy and giggly; at least, when she didn't wanted to scream at him for the way he acted towards her... Betrothed, she said? Well, that was what everyone had called her relationship with Francis since she was six. But now... she didn't even know what to call them anymore. "All engagements really do is hold alliances. He's betting we might need Scotland, I'm betting we'll find more support elsewhere. I know it's not what you want to hear." Mary's teeth cringed at the evocation of their previous discussion. How could she preserve Scotland if the marriage would not happen? And how could the marriage happen if the "betrothed" didn't want or even support the notion of it?

"We're half-brothers, by the way. Nothing in common but our father, really."

A smile lightened her face at the thought of Bash's cheekiness. She hadn't dared laugh at his words but was sure she hadn't hid the sparkle in her eyes. He had a great sense of humour and the young lady liked talking to him. In fact, she looked forward to know him better... while she shouldn't. She was here to insure Scotland's future by marrying Francis; this should be her first and only concern...

Not the bastard of the King...

Absolutely not the bastard of the King with his striking blue-green eyes...

Certainly not the gorgeous bastard of the King... even if she loved the feelings he awakened in her body when he touched her... or when he was near her... or when he only looked at her...

God! She needed to think of something else! At the convent, she had been teaching people how to concentrate in politics, a subject a Queen must be aware of; while she had learned how to steer a country, she certainly did not know how to steer her own heart... and this gap seemed to be growing each minute she was near this man...

If only Francis had been the man of her dreams; handsome, smart, kind, true to his words and to his heart and... deeply in love with her... well, some parts were true and for the rest, she needed to work on it to attract him and show him marrying Mary, Queen of Scots, was the best option for him and his beloved France.

And she needed to put the handsome half-brother's bastard with his devilishly attractive eyes at his right place in her life, behind her betrothed, in the shadow... but far away enough for the eerie light in his eyes to not affect her in any manner.

Well... it would be for another day because as she arrived at the third floor, she saw Bash leaning on the banister, deeply lost in his thoughts. At first, she wanted to turn back but as she did a wood step creaked under her weight, stirring the young man's attention.

When he looked at her, Sebastian was as serious as she saw him the day of their encounter. Grave and a little grim, Mary thought, as she started smiling at him just because she wanted to alleviate his mood.

It worked wonderfully as Bash's face illuminated with a huge hearty smile that put Mary's heart in a hurry, her blood seeming to boil under her skin. She was ashamed when she realised she was grinning like a fool, but she couldn't help it, as simply seeing him made her feel happy.

Oh God... was it natural? Was it sane to feel this way when he was around? Was it a sin to feel so good near him?

There surely was a moral law forbidding one heart to jump this way every time one told the name of one another. Or a law preventing one body to melt this way every time one locked eyes with another's eyes. Or a religious principle prohibiting one's feet to fly closer to one another every time one was near one another. What was she feeling? What was she thinking?

Suddenly, Bash's eerie eyes locked onto her hazelnut's ones and Mary simply forgot how to think anymore, climbing the last steps as if in a dream.

"Mary, you're here! I'm so happy to see you!"

Francis' voice brought her back to reality so suddenly that she nearly lost her balance, making the two men move to steady her. As she stood up straight again, the brothers looked and smiled at each other for having had the same thought; Francis' smile was frank while Bash's one was filled with awkwardness at the souvenir of what his little brother had interrupted.

"I can't do that" swore Mary fervently in her heart. "I don't know what it is I feel but if it makes Sebastian feels awkward towards his brother, I can't allow it... After all, it's nothing, really, it is just a childish attraction due to Francis' behaviour. It will pass before I even realise it."

The young Queen joined the landing where the men were waiting for her and put her hand on Francis' outstretched arm.

"Come Mary, I have something to show you, I think you will enjoy it..."

Mary tried to concentrate on her "betrothed" words but failed; when they turned to their left to go their way, her shoulder brushed against Bash's one. As soon as they felt the sensation, both jumped in surprise, the eldest man gasping while stiffening. Mary tried to act casually, refusing to look over her shoulder at the awesome "bastard" that embodied so perfectly danger... a so tantalising danger...

As she walked with Francis in the corridor, she sighed deeply thinking that keeping Bash at bay would certainly be more difficult than she had thought at first...