Thank you so much for your interest in this story, and the great reviews! I am excited to lead you through this AU version of Reign.
Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot' by Nancy McKenzie. Also, history has been altered for this story. This is definitely AU!
Dinner with the Lord and Lady Carme was anything but relaxing for Sebastian. The Master of the House had many queries regarding the happenings in and around the heart of France, or what was left of the great country. The pain of recounting the carnage, the burnt earth, and the heartache was difficult for him. He had watched helplessly as men died before his eyes, as homes were burned, as lives were irrevocably altered. Sometimes, in the dark and quiet of night, he could still hear their screams; some were screams of pain, others, anger and frustration. Sebastian was not sure how much of France's dark times he needed to divulge to Mary, since she was going to be so crucial in leading France forward instead of living in the past. It would be hard for him to tell the stories, and he imagined it would be even harder for her to hear. Most women detested the talk of war, and having done nothing more than speak greetings with Mary, Sebastian decided to err on the side of caution.
"I am sorry if this talk of war bores you, Lady Mary." Sebastian began, wiping his hands on the towel in his lap as he finished his dinner. She raised her eyebrows in response, tilting her head ever so slightly, and Bash realized he had assumed incorrectly.
"Quite the contrary, my dear Duke. If I am to help guide this country towards better years, I must know all that has passed, for only then can I make the best decisions moving forward." The conviction in Mary's voice rang strong, and Sebastian, once again, gazed in awe at the woman before him. He had been but a young boy when the war started, but he vividly remembered his mother always changing the conversation if the topic was brought up. 'Women have no use for war,' she would say. But that sentiment did not hold true for Mary.
"Well, then, if that is truly what you want, then I will tell you everything." Sebastian replied earnestly, watching perplexedly as Mary's brows furrowed further together in disagreement.
"And why would it not be what I want?" Silence surrounded the pair, as all eyes in the room were divided between Sebastian and Mary. He understood very quickly his apparent ill-advised choice of words, again, and was rapidly formulating how to correct his mishap. His colleagues offered no assistance, so Bash kept his eyes on his plate, praying the appropriate reply would come to him. Dinner had begun to adjourn, and by the scowls on Luke and Claude's faces, it would be best if he remained silent.
When he first met Mary in the meadow that morning, his whole outlook on life changed. The immediate draw he felt towards her was hard for Sebastian to grasp. He had never felt that strong of an emotion in a long time, and never towards a woman. And now, after his present debacle, he worried her view of him would completely change. He had to make the situation right with Mary, for he should have never presumed she was like any other woman. She had clouded his thoughts, and made his vision foggy. He shook his head as chairs scraped imposingly against the wooden floors. He raised his eyes briefly as she retreated, and her eyes were on him, not as much in anger as in curiosity. But her lips pursed, and her chin raised a bit higher as she moved towards the hall, away from him.
Sebastian had instinctively stood as Mary and her ladies removed themselves from the modest dining hall. As the fog that clutched his mind cleared, he realized he alone was left at the table, staring stupidly at the opposite wall. He vividly remembered the questioning glare Mary leveled on him. It was a significantly different gaze then he had seen from her earlier in the day. But he also remembered the way she pursed her lips, as if her thoughts towards him confused her. Even pouted in anger, those lips had transfixed him.
"Bash, are you coming?" Luke asked from the doorway.
"Oh, yes, quite sorry for the delay." Sebastian mumbled, knocking over his chair in clumsiness. He tugged on his doublet, having changed from his filthy riding clothes earlier, in an attempt to right both himself and his thoughts. Eventually, he fell easily into step behind Luke, following his swagger until he turned into what appeared to be a library. Claude already sat in a chair by the fire. Though it was summer, evenings in the mountains leaned towards the chilly side, and Sebastian was thankful for a bit of heat.
"What happened today, General?" Claude broke the silence, using Bash's military nick-name, standing to hand a tankard of ale to him.
"Nothing." Bash replied quickly, turning away from his two men and eying the ale.
"Oh come now, Bash." Luke interjected. "It was love at first sight." He chuckled, and Claude joined in the laughter. Bash was extremely thankful for the fire, the warmth hiding the blush on his cheeks. He did not find their banter humorous, and it took every ounce of his willpower to not drench his friends in ale.
"I have no idea what you are talking about, I misspoke, that is all." Bash spit out harshly, wishing for a few minutes alone to clear his head.
"Not just dinner, Bash, but this morning when we first met Lady Mary. It was as if you and her were the only ones in the meadow." Luke replied, half teasingly, half seriously.
Bash could not argue with him, and refused to turn and face the men. Her beauty had swept him away, and her grace was humbling. And then that night, at dinner, her fervent attitude towards understanding her future country amazed him.
"We are here to safely escort Lady Mary and her ladies back to the Chateau, let us not forget our task." His voice commanded attention, his time leading Francis' armies behind his brother giving him that ability.
"Yes, but you cannot forget why." Claude urged quietly from his chair, having seated himself again.
"She is to be our Queen, and my brother's wife, yes I remember." Bash sighed, tiring quickly of the path of the conversation.
"No, she is to be the wife of our King." Luke added, stressing the word 'King'. Bash knew what he meant was that relatives were sometimes forgotten in the world of politics. If his actions or words reflected poorly on France, it would not matter if he was the King's brother or not.
"Come, Luke, let us let him be for a while. We will see you in the morning, Sebastian." Claude uttered sleepily, pulling Luke reluctantly along with him.
Sebastian nodded, turning back towards the empty chairs in front of the fire. He sat rather ungentlemanly, plopping himself down and throwing his head back in defeat. 'Lord, what have I gotten myself in to now.' He whispered to the empty library. 'Maybe you can help?' Sebastian asked to his tankard of ale, still untouched.
"Drinking your sorrows away usually only makes the situation worse." The light, airy, female voice replied, and Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. Turning, Mary appeared as if out of nowhere in the library, her figure dancing in and out of the shadows created by the firelight.
"Oh forgive me, Lady Mary, I would not intrude on your personal time." Bash spluttered, realizing how strange and awkward his words sounded. Technically, she had interrupted his time in the library, not the other way around.
"It is I who intruded on you, and apparently deep in thought." Mary quirked on eyebrow at him, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Actually, Duke, I meant to intrude. I wanted to apologize for the severity of my words at dinner. I have a bad habit of letting my words get away from me."
"Oh no, my Lady, it should be me apologizing. I should never have presumed to know what you do and do not want to be told." Sebastian rose from his chair as he spoke, recovering his senses enough to remember proper etiquette.
"Well," Mary laughed, "it seems we are both at fault then. Shall we start again? Hello, I am Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland." Mary held out her hand again, just as she did that morning. Sebastian felt the flutter inside him once more.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mary Stuart. I am Sebastian, Duke of Poitiers." Sebastian accepted her hand, feeling the same electrifying warmth as he did that morning. The expression on Mary's face changed, her eyes gazing at their joined hands. She pulled her hand away slowly, holding her hand as if it hurt. She had a similar reaction that morning, gasping as their hands touched.
"I understand now my defensiveness at dinner. You unnerve me so. Why is that?" Mary mumbled softly, as if to herself. Sebastian was not sure she meant him to hear.
"If it makes you feel better, I feel the same way." Bash replied quietly himself, not wanting to add he did not mind the way she made him feel. It was a delicious warmth that spread through him, but not because of the ale, or the fireplace behind him.
"Maybe it will ease my mind if I got to know you?" Mary glanced up at him then, her eyes seeking his openly.
"You are in luck, my Lady, for part of my task is to catch you up to speed on things happening around the countryside, and help you decide how best to rebuild our court." Smiling, Bash enjoyed the small smile that graced her face as well.
"Wonderful! I knew we should be great friends." Mary reached out for his hand again, holding it tightly as she smiled widely. He much preferred her beautiful smile to the scorn he witnessed a short while earlier.
"Well then, if we are to be friends, please call me Sebastian, or even Bash. I prefer those over my pretentious title."
"Of course, Bash. Now shall we talk more in the morning? I do not wish to intrude on your time any longer."
"Most assuredly." He replied, still holding her hand. Lifting her hand, he placed a simple kiss on her knuckles, nothing more than befit his future Queen. "And it is not an intrusion, I promise." He watched as she blushed slightly, curtseying before she turned and glided out of the library.
This would be his toughest task yet. He watched after her retreating figure long after she left. Those feelings he felt that morning were still there, under the surface, simmering slowly. His heart had ached when he thought he had displeased her earlier, but now, knowing he had caused her emotions to go crazy, relieved him. 'Unnerved' was the word she used. She unnerved him too. 'I have watched men die. I have killed men with my bare hands. And this one woman makes me speechless,' he thought, collapsing back against his earlier abandoned chair, and downing his ale in one gulp.
Over the first week after they arrived in Andorra La Vella, he spent many of his waking hours in discussion with Mary and several of her ladies. He learned Lola was the one with the dark, wavy hair. She joined most every conversation, and often times offered valuable input. The other lady was a tiny wisp of a thing with blonde hair so light she might have been a nymph from one of the childhood stories his mother would tell him. Her name was Aylee, and though she never said much, Sebastian could see her keen eyes missed nothing of her surroundings.
Absent from their daily talked were Mary's other two ladies, another blonde named Greer, and a darker-haired sprite named Kenna. Bash's two men had found themselves preoccupied most days with these two ladies, and neither minded at all.
"I think your Marquis and Viscount have their hands full, Bash." Mary chuckled, pointing towards Claude and Luke who were escorting Greer and Kenna around the gardens.
"I would be more worried about Greer and Kenna. With these years of fighting and war, most of our men have not seen a true noble woman in some time." Bash replied with a smirk. Mockingly, Mary gasped, flinging a hand towards her chest in indignation.
"Should I be concerned, then, about my virtue? Are you as unravished of attention as the Viscount and Marquis?" Mary inquired, a bit of coyness to her words.
"By no means, my Lady." Bash grinned, eying Mary carefully as she smiled, watching how her face lit up with mirth. He knew she would catch him staring, but he was too enamored to turn away. But then, he uttered more words without clearly thinking of their implications. "But I will let you know when I change my mind." With a wink, Bash turned on his heel and walked away.
He had almost counted to a hundred when he finally deciphered hurried footsteps approaching from behind. The gravel walked crunched noisily with Mary's restless footsteps.
"You speak your mind very freely, Sebastian." Mary tittered, walking quickly to catch up with Bash, the skirts of her gown rustling around her.
"Not one of my better traits, I am afraid. But I do not do it often." Sebastian cheekily responded.
"I can deduce, then, from the tone and content of this conversation that the court lacks a woman's touch." Mary paused, assessing Bash's face. "Or women at all."
"You would be correct, on both accounts. Many of the nobleman sent their families outside of France, while they stayed behind with my father, and subsequently Francis. Some men left with their families, yes, but only a few." Silence penetrated the air around them, as they slowed to a more leisurely pace through the garden.
"Where did they go?" Mary whispered.
"Well, many went to Spain, and Portugal. A few headed towards Italy, at the late Queen's bidding. A couple brave souls traveled to England. Mostly, they moved anywhere but east and the Holy Roman Empire."
"Should we summon them back to France?" Mary stated simply, eying Sebastian honestly, having forgotten the awkwardness of Sebastian's earlier words.
"That will be for you and Francis to decide, but yes, I think it is best. They were the original members of court, and I think it behoove us to try and encourage them to come back to France." Inwardly, Sebastian hoped his sentiments were those of Mary as well. He wanted his words to please her, considering he had said several words that had not.
"No, I think that is best. I will give it continued thought, though." Mary contemplated, not wanting to commit her mind to one single action just yet. The future of France depended on her, and it was crucial for her to make the most informed decision possible. "Will Francis really entertain my opinions? Most Kings do not listen to their wives."
"Francis is not like other Kings. When he entrusted me to escort you back to court, his instructions were that I prepare as best I could for court, and life at the Chateau, on the understanding that your opinions held great weight."
Mary nodded, her face passive. "Is he much like you?" She asked faintly.
Sebastian was surprised by the question. No one really cared that they shared a father, or if their were any other similarities between him and his brother.
"No one has asked me that before." Sebastian realized, wondering what Mary was thinking. "I think in most ways we are similar. Some might say I am more ruled by my emotions, whereas Francis thinks with his head, naturally a ruler. But, yes, we are alike in some ways. He is my brother after all."
"He is?" Mary questioned, eyes widening at the revelation. Sebastian was surprised, having assumed she knew.
"I am sorry. I thought you knew of our relationship. Yes, he is my half-brother."
"But you are the eldest?" Mary asked, stopping to turn and speak to Sebastian face-to-face. He nodded, an answer to her question. "Good. He would have looked up to his elder brother." Mary reached for his hand, holding it gently for a moment. A small tremor went through Sebastian at their touch, not following Mary's train of thought, but pleased that she was obviously pleased. "That is very good." She paused, her eyes holding his for a moment. "If he is anything like you then I shall manage." There was honesty and loyalty in her voice, and Sebastian could not help but smile.
"But you have only known me a week, my Lady. Who knows what dastardly deeds I have up my sleeve?" He winked at her, the second time that day and Mary laughed heartily in response.
"True, but do you know what I have up my sleeves?" Mary tried to wink back, blinking rapidly instead. Both laughed.
"No, but I think I am up to the challenge." Sebastian replied mischievously, knowing their conversation was teetering on the edge of appropriateness.
"Good. I hope you are."
So am I, Sebastian thought, watching her figure sway as she started to walk ahead of him. So am I.
