2.

The warm water felt soothing on her skin and she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in, allowing herself to relax for the first time in hours, for days if she was being completely honest. And suddenly she couldn't fight it any longer and the tears started falling from her eyes in an uncontrollable steady stream, mixing with the scented bath water. All the memories, she had so desperately sought to lock away, came rushing back in and crushed her underneath their weight. Her whole body was shaking with silent sobs and her lungs were desperately grasping for air.

She tried to focus her breathing but her mind was spinning faster than she had thought possible. Her shaking fingers curled around the metal edge of the tub and although her head was safely out of the water, she felt as though she were downing. All her strength had forsaken her weak body and the enormity of her situation slowly suffocated her.

The king's fury had been beyond even her wildest imaginations as his enraged screams had filled the whole castle, chilling her to down to her very bones. She had simply stood there in complete silence, averting her gaze and knowing the stares of the other courtiers, in particular Cathrine, upon her. The queen's expression had been stoic as usual, with only the slightest glimpse of satisfaction hiding in her hard eyes.

Henry had hurled all kinds of insults at her, calling her a stupid child, laughing at the folly of her actions. Even thought there were several meters between them she could detect the distinct smell of strong liquor radiating from his person. Never before had she felt so belittled, treated like a little infant infant of the whole court and the hushed laughter still rang in her ears. People would talk, flay their petty little mouths over the stupid little girl, running from her protected home here at court, chasing a childish fantasy. And maybe, they were right. Her decision must have seemed incredibly short sighted and if she was being honest, the idea of escaping back to England sounded laughable, even to herself.

But for now, the gossip wasn't what concerned her most, it was the king's terms. Bash was to be charged with treason and to be executed in a fortnight if she didn't agree to marry Francis. The king's fondest son had fallen out of favor and the tables had turned on him in the blink of an eye. Mary had simply stood there in silence and nodded her head, not able to think of any arguments in Bash's defense. Bash's intentions had been sincere, he had simply wanted to help protect her from the dangers lurking in the woods. He hadn't known that in helping her escape, he would cost Henry England, thereby committing treason against his king and country.

A week ago, Mary would have been certain that Henry would never dare think of hurting his favorite son, his own flesh and blood. After today she wasn't so sure anymore. The anger and hatred in the king's expressions as he had issued his sentence, had left no room for any feelings of compassion towards his eldest child. Most likely Cathrin had fueled that anger on her behalf as well. She had never taken a liking to the king's bastard, the living and breathing reminder of his indiscretions. The woman was fickle, she knew that and Cathrine had her ways of making Henry comply with her demands. Thought he king's screams had shaken her to her core, the queen's silent threatening looks scared her more. She knew what Catherine was capable of, the woman had even tried to poison her wine once in order to take her virtue.

She was at a loss, what was she supposed to do? The king was making her choose, forcing her to pick one of his sons, killing the other in turn. Marrying Francis would result in his certain death, she was sure of it, and not marrying him would cause Bash to loose his head. How was anyone supposed to make that choice?

Yes, Francis was the love of her live, her best friend and the one person in the world she could entrust anything with. Except for this one thing, she would have to carry the burden of the prophecy on her own. She dared not even play with the idea of telling him of his predicted fait. No matter how hard it would be to keep this one thing from him, it had to be done, for his own protection.

But Bash was one of her closest friends, the person that would take her riding while Francis spent hours talking politics with his father and strategizing with their advisers. Bash would make her laugh, telling her and her ladies stories of his adventures in the woods. He was the charming big brother she had never had. She cared for him deeply and bearing the guilt of his death was unthinkable to her.

She must have sat there in her tub for hours trying to think of a solution that would keep both Francis and Bash alive. The water was going colder on her skin and she unsuccessfully dosed off while the streaks her tears had left behind were still evident on her puffy cheeks.

„Mary, Mary, wake up! Mary, dear, you can't stay here, the cold water will make you sick", Greer's concerned voice was pulling her out of a dreamless sleep. Her eyes strained at the effort to open them and her mind was feeling foggy.

Greer and Lola helped her from the water, practically lifting her out of the tub like a helpless babe, while Kenna was wrapping her body in a thick robe and her wet hair in a towel. The three of them carried their queen back to her bed, for Mary barely had enough strength to keep her eyes from falling shut again.

A maid must have lit a fire in her chambers, trying to keep the night's chill at bay. It filled the room with a comforting warmth, making Mary's head feel drowsy. When she was finally wrapped in her night gown and safely tucked under the warm and heavy covers of her bed, Kenna whispered her good night and promised to check on her in the morning.

She was alone once more with only the light crackling of the fire breaking the silence around her. Her thoughts would have been filled with pictures of a dead Francis, Bash without his head if it wasn't for the fatigue overtaking her body, forcing her mind into a restless sleep.

'Boom, boom' they were more blows then knocks, ringing through her room, making her shoot up in bed, suddenly wide awake.

The room was cold again and the warmth of the fire long gone as the wood must have burned out hours ago. Only the faint silver glimmer radiating from the moon dipper her room in a dreary glow, thus allowing her tired eyes to take in her surroundings. The banging wouldn't stop, growing only more intent with each stroke.

She was confused, her guards were posted outside her door at all times and would have surely stopped any unwanted intruders from bashing against her door in the dead of night. The knocks weren't coming from the door however, they initiated on the other side of her room.

It came back to her in the blink of an eye. While Sophie, her maid, had been busy pouring her bath, she had remembered the door leading to the hidden passage ways. Francis and she had used them to sneak into each other's rooms at night, unnoticed. She had been certain that he would use them again. She couldn't allow it, she couldn't let herself be alone in the same room as Francis. He would get to her and she would forget all her reasons for leaving him with one look into his deep blue eyes, loosing herself in his gaze. So she had taken action, pulling one of her heavy wooden chairs in front of the door in order to keep out any unwanted nightly visitors. It had taken her several minutes to move the heavy thing into position, making sure that the door was securely barred.

It seemed she had been right in her assumptions concerning Francis intent to see her again. Slowly moving closer to the source of the noise, her bare feet recoiling at the icy touch of the cold floor tiles. When she was close enough to carefully press her ear against the tapestry, she could make out the sound of his breathing, heavy from the labor of bashing against the door.

„Francis, please stop" this time her voice sounded broken and she was simply too tired to hide the pleading in her words.

„Mary" the hammering on the other side of the door halted and his voice was barely more than a whisper „Please, let me talk to you. You can't do this to me!"

She could clearly hear the desperation in his voice. Her fingers clung to the seam of her night gown and she tried to push the guilty thoughts from mind. To hear him so clearly broken and desperate, hurt more than she had allowed herself to imagine. The knot in her throat was growing bigger and she felt her lungs rebel in her chest.

„Why are you doing this Mary? Please, my father will kill Bash because you refuse to marry me. You are destroying everything we had? Please, just open the door and let me talk to you!"

Her heart was hammering in her chest and her stomach was tightening up again. She couldn't do this, she so desperately wanted to open the door and fall into his arms, feel his embrace, taking in his smell and knowing that they were save in each other's arms. But they weren't, he would die and she would never let that happen. She had to stay strong, she had to find a way to keep him distant, to make him leave her. However much it would hurt, it had to be done.

Lifting her head, she answered, as regally as her exhausted body would allow it.

„It is over Francis, I've said everything there is to be said. Good night." It was a lie of course and judging by the silence on the other side, her words had had their desired effect.

His next words were barely audible and she could hear the tears choking his voice.

„Mary please, I love you!"

In turn she could feel her own tears, burning hot on her cheeks, and she had to muffle a sob, pressing the silk sleeve of heir night gown to her quivering lips.

Minutes passed before she heard his footsteps, finally retreating back to his rooms. She let out a shaky breath.

„I love you too!" she whispered to the cold and empty room.