He'd never seen such a beautiful creature, not in all of his life.
She was like an angel in truth, with a radiant smile that shined like the sun itself, her long dark hair a waterfall down her back. For a moment he was too stunned to move, so taken aback was he by the sight of the Scottish Queen, and it wasn't until the King touched his shoulder that he could take another step. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see his father, King Henry, was pleased at the sight of the young queen as well, though the queen lurked behind him with a smile that betrayed the truth of her heart. It was rumored that Queen Catherine disliked the young Mary Stuart, who was a queen in her own right, not of just Scotland but England too, though another queen sat upon it. But he could not help but to wonder if it was not but simple jealousy that stung the older queen's heart.
"She's beautiful, is she not?" Henry spoke, though not to him but to Francis, who had appeared at the King's other side. "Go on now, greet your bride like a man." Henry gestured for the golden prince to move ahead, pausing his own pace to allow both Diane and his queen to approach. "Sebastian," the King then spoke to him, gesturing for him to move alone as well. "You too must greet the Scottish queen, my son." Giving his father a nod, Sebastian continued on, approaching Francis and the queen, who stood face to face with twin grins. As he neared, both turned to face him and Francis' smile was for him instead, reaching for him as soon as he was within range.
"Mary, you remember my brother, Sebastian?" Francis held him out proudly towards his future bride, his adoration for his brother evident. "Bash, and you remember Mary?"
Though as children, they'd not spent as much time together, but yes, of course he recalled her from their childhood days. Had she always been so very beautiful? He knew it had been a time since he'd last saw her, but every glance at her left him breathless, though his face remained passive. Ever the courtier, he reached for the queen's hand, pressing it to his lips for the briefest of moments. "I do."
"Of course," Mary's voice was sweet and Sebastian felt a tremor race down his spine when she let out a little laugh. "Hello, Bash." Her instant use of his nickname spread warmth through his entire body and it was only then he realized he'd yet to let go of her hand. Stiffening, he ignored Francis' arm jab and allowed the pair to stroll on by, leaving him there to stare after her, even long after she'd vanished behind the doors.
[ x x x ]
He couldn't stop thinking about her.
It didn't help that everywhere he went, she already seemed to be; the library, the gardens, out by the lake. As if their minds were one and the same, they could not help but to stumble across one another in those first few weeks of her arrival. Sebastian began to look forward to bumping into the Scottish queen, for her voice itself brought him joy... but to take counsel with her...? To brush his lips across her hand like a proper courtier...? To listen to her sweet laughter, those were the things that truly warmed his heart the most.
On this particular day, Francis and their father, the King, had went off on a hunt; though Bash usually would have gone along on such a trip, he'd decided to remain behind to look after the castle. Having a surprisingly empty day ahead of him, he'd laid abed later than usually, missing Mass which he supposed would anger his mother, but as he broke his fast he felt a strange sense of joy rushing through him. Once dressed, he made his way from his chambers down towards the Great Hall, pausing only a moment to peak inside, seeing no one but a few stray courtiers and a servant or two within. He moved on, again pausing in the doorway of the Throne room, where of course the queen sat, with Nostradamus at her side, from which he rarely strayed. Sebastian couldn't say he put much stock into the man, though even he could not deny the man knew things it should have been impossible to know.
Striding further down the hall, he decided he might see to the stables, a chore no longer his, but one he honestly missed. It was as he made his way across the lawn that he caught sight of her, dark hair known to him anywhere. Slowing his stride, Sebastian pondered for only a moment before he turned himself so he walked towards her instead. There, on the furthest side of the lake did she sit, alone on a stone bench, her gown rumpled as if she too had laid in bed far longer than was appropriate. "Your grace." He greeted when he approached, offering the young woman a bow and a smile. Now that he was closer, he could see the sadness in her eyes, could see how it draped over her like a cloak. "Mary, what's the matter?" He set aside all propiety as he sat down beside her, concern flooding his features as their eyes met.
"It's nothing, truly." Mary insisted, turning away from Sebastian, as if she could not look him in the eye. But a moment later, Sebastian reached for her hand, giving it the smallest of squeezes, the gesture forcing her to return her gaze to his. In that moment, he looked so true, his eyes telling her that she could trust him. Of anyone at this court, he would be the one to always be faithful. "It's Francis," she finally said, sounding miserable as she again turned away, staring down at the ground as if shamed by what she said. "It's as if he doesn't like me at all." How distant he had become, these last few days! Mary felt her heart turnover, her stomach sinking as she recalled how he'd brushed her off that morning before his departure. "We are to be married yet he acts as if he knows me not." When she looked back up at him, it was with eyes full of tears. "Am I not good enough?" She whispered, her true fear surfacing in this moment of weakness, the tears slipping free from where they clung to her lashes.
Improper as it might have been, Sebastian could not help himself from reaching for her once more, though this time his hand slid into place against her tear-stained cheek. Drawing her back to look at him, Sebastian offered her an encouraging sort of smile. "You are beyond 'good enough,' your grace." He murmured, sweeping his thumb across her cheek, then doing the same to the other one, erasing her tears. "If my foolish brother cannot see that, then he is the worst kind of man." Sebastian went on, speaking from his heart, hoping his words would cheer the young queen. "You are too good for this world, in truth."
A different wave of tears filled her eyes then and without warning, she had flung herself into his arms, catching him a little off guard. But a moment later he relaxed, giving in to the embrace and wrapping his own arms gently around her. A moment later she suddenly drew back, cheeks red and looking a little mortified over what she had just done. One thing she'd always been taught was to never act as she just had. Queens and royalty must always act dignified, never once showing a sign of weakness. "I am sorry! That was unseemly of me." She made to stand up, but Sebastian kept a hold of her hand, and so there on the bench she remained a moment longer. "Bash..."
"You need not be anyone but yourself before me, Mary." Sebastian spoke her given name aloud once again, such a thing sending chills along her spine. "I am yours, my queen." His chivalrous words bringing a smile to her face. "And I shall beat Francis within an inch of his life should he cause you any harm or grief." This time she choked on a laugh, wiping away the last remnants of her tears, feeling strangely happier than she'd felt in days. It was Sebastian who then rose up to his feet, offering her his hand to help her onto her own. And as they began to walk, she slipped her arm through his, and he could feel the warmth of her skin despite the layer of clothing between them.
Back towards the castle they walked, a new bond between the young Scottish queen and the French prince's own brother. "Your grace." Sebastian offered her a bow when they had arrived at the door to her chamber, the guards that stood outside silent as they looked on. "If you need anything at all... I am yours to command." And then with the briefest of kisses to her hand, he was gone, disappearing around the corner leaving Mary to stand there for a few moments longer, heart pounding hard within her chest.
Sebastian too felt the quickened pace of his heart as he leaned against the wall, just around the corner where he'd left the queen. His every inch tingled, a strange feeling he'd never experienced rushing through him. Taking a deep breath, Sebastian moved along, feet taking him towards his own chambers, where inside he would be unable to shake the image of her from his mind. She had betwitched him, truly, and Sebastian found he longed to feel her hand against his once again. It was there that he began to realize just what it was that he felt for the Scottish queen, it was something that went far beyond the adoration of a subject to his queen. It was love.
He loved her.
