It was the first time she drank, really drank. The only wine she'd tasted before she came back to court had been the consecrated one as she took communion every Sunday. But now she had an occasional goblet of wine with her dinner, and at parties. But today afternoon, after Catherine's words and Olivia's reappearance, was the first time she felt the need to keep drinking.
She was mad with jealousy, her head full of wine
She was right. Olivia needed to be out of French court, out of her life. For good. But then, Francis was also right, she supposed. And they were both as strong willed as the other. She'd never been able to keep quiet, not when they were smaller and much less now. Not when she saw the stubborn set of his features, the way his eyebrows arched as if challenging her.
"If I was acting like my father, I would take Olivia as my mistress."
She couldn't bear to think about Francis having Olivia as his mistress. She couldn't fathom the possibility that she'd have to share him with another woman. She did not want a marriage like Catherine. Having to watch Francis parade Olivia around court, right in front of her, besides being humiliating would surely turn her bitter like Catherine. Francis would dote on Olivia like Henry did with Diane. He would love her. She'd just be the official wife, expected to pop out heirs.
It would break her heart; it would be the death of her. She never thought Francis would be like his father. That he was capable of acting like him.
"Then don't let me stop you."
She didn't mean it, by God she didn't mean it. She was fuming, seeing red as dark as the wine she kept drinking; and she wanted to rile him up. To make him feel just a fraction of the hurt she was feeling. Hurt that stemmed from jealousy that stemmed from the fact that something, anything had happened between him and Olivia when just the day before he'd swore he belonged to her and her to him. The not stopping to think about why he would tell her, why he would admit to what had transpired at all.
She couldn't think about any of it then. So she drank even more. The comfortable warmth on her chest and the way her thoughts turned heavy comforted her, leading her to seek something stronger than wine. Something to keep the sadness that had started to seep into her body once the anger left at bay.
And so she found Bash. And his dark, bitter tasting liquor, that burned its way down her throat as she swallowed. And made her muddled thoughts even harder to decipher, which worked just fine for her. She just wanted someone to rant to; she doesn't remember half the things she said. All she remembers is the feeling of comfort to finally voice out loud her thoughts, and how Bash looked at her like she was the sun, and how if something had happened between Francis and Olivia she had the same right to have something happen with someone else. So she kissed Bash. And pulled away immediately only to be pulled back in. And to her muddled brain it was just fine being kissed, just great to run her tongue over Bash's lips and not care if she didn't feel electricity run though her body when he pulled her closer. Yet that's what woke her up. What made her pull away. She felt nothing but the warmth of his body and the bitter taste of alcohol in their mouths. It tasted like a mistake.
It was a mistake, a huge one, and as such she apologized and wiped her mouth from him and left. The cold afternoon air cleared her head as she walked back to the castle and by the time it was time to sail her boat, guilt was eating her alive. Olivia had feelings for Francis, something happened but he stopped it and he told her. And she kissed Bash. He wanted to help the girl and she understood that, but she was angry about it at the moment. And she kissed his brother to spite him.
Her regrets weren't hard to summon.
I'm sorry we fought. I'm sorry I didn't eat more and drink less. I'm sorry I overreacted. And the one she did not say out loud. I'm sorry I kissed your brother. I'm sorry it was two hours ago and yet I feel the weight of that lie of omission weighing me down.
Watching him leave with Olivia on his arm afterwards was like a flash-forward of her future. Always walking a step behind him, stepping on the trail of Olivia's dress. A queen two times over envying a commoner, for she would hold her king's heart.
Regret was truly a terrible feeling.
a/n:I wrote this when 1x05 first aired, and decided to post it now because why not?