It was a quiet but beautiful early morning at Holyrood. Soon all of Edinburgh would be out and about in the town as it would become packed with peasants bartering, children playing, and old men conversing outside the pubs. It was the day of Bash's nobility ceremony which Mary had decided to hold (much to her guards chagrin) at the gates of her childhood home, the Castle. But at the moment, the streets were quiet save for a few market stalls that were just beginning to open. The sun was creeping up and soon the Castle would be bathed in its warmth.
Mary knew everything had changed – everything would change – now that she had abandoned France and decided to marry Bash. There was no turning back. And while she had no regrets (and honestly felt that she would have very little in the future in regards to those two decisions), there was still a part of her that wondered, what could have happened differently if only…
That was the reason she woke Bash up at a very early hour, dragging him out into the town. He looked positively sinful with his hair sticking up in all places, night shift open, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. If she hadn't been so flustered at deciding to wake him up to walk and talk, and in so much need of that conversation, she would have let him sleep.
It was a nice walk uphill from Holyrood to the Castle and she thought it would be a good opportunity to talk to Bash, alone, before the craziness of the day's ceremony began. They would later ride by carriage from Holyrood so Mary knew they might be in for a long walk – but she didn't mind.
"How long have you lived at the Palace?" Bash asked, trying (and failing) to stifle a yawn.
"Just since I returned. I grew up in the Castle – a drafty miserable old place with so much history it is quite scary at times. Well, I should say that I grew up in France, but… I crowned at six days at a different castle – Stirling Castle – my mother barely recovered from birth and we had to go to Stirling for the christening and coronation. They were building Holyrood then, I'm told."
"Do you like it?"
"It is very much my mother's Palace. But that will change soon enough. I've plans to hire some of the best of Scotland to help me decorate it."
"No initials in the tiles, please," Bash teased.
"No, no initials in the tiles." Mary said with a shake of her head. As they walked, she pointed out little shops where she had played with the children of the town ("I was always running away from the Castle and my lessons," she had told Bash.), the flower shop that supplied the Castle, the baker that made the best bread you would ever taste, and the significance of the distance between Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood Palace.
Bash took her hand in his, pulling her close to him as they walked. "Why did you wake me up at this god awful hour? I am guessing it was not because you wanted to see my devilish bedhead."
Mary sighed. "No, I wanted to show you Edinburgh as I remembered it – this sleepy little town that was so quiet in the early mornings."
They both remembered many a time when they had snuck out of the castle, either very late or very early to see the sky before it lightened. There was something so serene about a world before it woke – before it had cares and troubles weighing down upon it. In those moments, Mary had felt like she could have been anyone. That she was free, that they were free, that the world was free. It was a wonderful feeling, lying out on the grass, watching the stars appear or disappear, knowing in that moment everything was okay and they didn't have to think beyond that exact second of their existence. "Snuck out a lot when you were five?" Bash raised an eyebrow.
"No!" She smacked him gently on the arm, a small smile creeping on her face.
"You may have wanted to show me your Edinburgh, but that's not why you dragged me out here."
"Why do you always seem to know my ulterior motives?"
"Because, I learned your horrible bluffing face a long time ago. Though, you have gotten better at it." Bash paused, "You know you've never been able to hide your thoughts from me."
"This is true." Mary looked up at the Castle, looming in front of them as they walked down the main street. "Bash, when did you know who you were?"
"You mean, when did I know I was a bastard?"
Mary hated the word, and really preferred that he not use it, but she nodded regardless.
"I was eight."
"How did you find out?"
"Oh, I'm sure I knew much before then – people were always whispering. And I did wonder why my mother seemed to always be at court, despite her relatively low standing. But I was standing in the hallway, looking for Francis so that we could play when I overheard an argument between my mother and Catherine. That's when I knew."
"When did you know who you were, though?" Mary pressed.
Bash pursed his lips, titling his head towards her. "What do you mean?"
"When did you know who you were – who you were meant to be?"
Bash laughed, throwing his head back with pure joy. "Oh, Mary…"
"It's not funny."
"No, I suppose for you, it isn't."
"You're going to be Prince Regent, Bash. It shouldn't be funny for you either."
"Mary, we never really know who we are. My aunt said we would spend all of our lives trying to figure that out."
"But… you seem to know."
"I know I am a bastard, the illegitimate child of two people who loved each other very much but couldn't be together. I know that I have three half-brothers and two half-sisters. I know that I'm going to marry you. And that I love you." He kissed her cheek as they continued to walk. "Does that explain it?"
"No." Mary said dejectedly. "That's not what I mean."
"I know. But Mary, I can't offer you answers that are lies. I have been told who I am for as long as I can remember, each time adding in a few more colorful adjectives. I believe most of it, and the parts I don't believe, I don't let bother me." They had reached the Castle gates, the guards letting them through.
"I have been Queen since I was six days old, did you know that?"
"You've mentioned it a few times when you have been upset."
"So since before I was aware of who I was, I was defined. But I still feel like I don't know who I am. Bash, how can I rule a country if I don't know who I am? How can I rule a country I don't know?"
"Let's start with the fact you are wrong – you are not defined. You are so much more than the Queen of the Scots. You are more than a Queen. You are a human being, a lady, a fireball, and so many other things." He said this with awe in his eyes. "You are a misfit, in the best sense of the word. You don't stand for the status quo if it's going to hurt those you love. And you love Scotland. They may not know you, but they will. It'll come, in time. In the meantime, you'll figure out who you are and what kind of ruler you want to be. Though, and I say this with all the love I have for you, I think you already know."
"It's scary." Mary finally admitted, looking over the Castle wall to the sea lurking on the edge of the horizon.
"Life always is. But we'll do it together." Bash stood behind her, arms wrapped around her, letting his head rest on her shoulder. They stood there for a while, just enjoying watching the sun lazily rise in the sky.
"We should get back."
"I have a suggestion, first."
"Oh?" Mary asked, turning into him, looking up at Bash.
"Yes. You know how we are supposed to have a wedding tour – go around for two months, have ridiculous amounts of sex and 'see' the countryside?"
"Bash!" Mary giggled.
"Let's use it as a diplomacy campaign. Let's show everyone, from Durness to Gretna, know what you look like and what you stand for."
"I'm impressed you know more of your Scottish geography."
"What do you say?"
"Can we still have lots of sex?" Mary asked, wrapping her arms around him.
It was a few hours later and there was no mistaking the buzz of excitement surrounding the nobility ceremony. Bash was not the only person receiving nobility – there were a few men receiving knighthood, and she was to appoint the new ambassador to the Vatican – but he was the one they had all come to see.
"You look truly ridiculous," Bash commented, seeing her in the Crown of Scotland. "Beautiful, but ridiculous."
"Just be thankful you will never have to wear it. It's damn heavy," Mary grumbled.
"How often do you have to wear it?"
"Official state functions – the first meetings with Kings and Queens of other nations, nobility ceremonies and coronations."
"And other times?"
"I have several tiaras of my choosing. Apparently, I have a Welsh diamond tiara waiting, specifically for my wedding."
"What do I have to wear?"
"For now? You'll get a special ceremonial sword and papers proving your worth as a Duke. Once we're married and the coronation for you happens, there's a simple crown for you." Mary shrugged. "Now, can we please get going so I can get this thing off of my head?"
"As you wish."
It truly was a sight to behold. Standing at the top of the hill, the Castle rising up behind her, Mary sat. Although her head ached with the pressure and weight of the crown, she sat up straight, regal, the scepter in one hand, the other resting comfortably on the throne. An attendant held the Sword of State to complete the Honours. The sword was heavy too, though Mary had been expecting that part of her duty.
"Sebastian de Poitiers, step forward."
Bash did as he was told, his eyes never leaving hers as she stood, the slightest of trembles visible in her stance.
"By the powers vested in me by my forbearers, the Kings of Scotland, and the people of Scotland, I grant you the title of Duke of Hamilton. Kneel."
Even with his head bowed, Mary could feel the wave after wave of love crashing over her as she tapped each shoulder with the sword. "Rise, Duke Sebastian Hamilton."
He did and the emotion in his eyes was almost enough to make Mary want to drop the Honours and jump into his arms and a hug and kiss. But that was not now. No, she had to be Queen first.
"People of Scotland, I give you the new Duke of Hamilton." Mary called out, her voice clear in the silent crowd. She nodded to Bash who turned to face the crowd. The moment he did, they erupted in cheers. It seemed Bash had already won the hearts of the Scots, just like he had done with Mary – with a smile, charm and a head on his shoulders.
Author's Note: Here's another chapter! I've received several suggestions from Freeandwild which will become, in turn, chapters. I am going to hold off the wedding chapter, as well as the honeymoon chapter, for at least a little while longer. Those require more research – all the gowns! All the jewels! All the marriage vows! But, in light of how much fun I had describing Sleepy-Bash, I imagine the next chapter will involve Mary interrupting his sleep once more.
The song that inspired this chapter was Bastille's Durban Skies. Until next chapter, Ann