AN: Ooooo, okay, so more character development. This is honestly so fun to write. I'm definitely diverging a bit more, but it's more like adding things in to the moments the show didn't cover rather than a complete change. Trust me, the complete change will come.
Risk Everything
Chapter 4: Bash, Panicked
Sebastian's heart beat quicker and his legs jittered uncomfortably. The pointless posturing of his father and mother as they set foot on the lawn made Bash impatient. He kept his eye on the back of Mary's head; the thought of her safety was the only thing on his mind. He had regretted not going to Mary's room last night as planned, for his encounter had truly shaken him, but he thanked God that she got a final night's rest before becoming involved in the mess he had made.
Eventually, the royal party stomped off and Bash grabbed Mary's arm before she could follow, whispering into her ear. "Mary, we need to talk. It's important." He couldn't help but notice the strands of hair that tickled his face, or the fact that she smelled like lemons today. Bash jerked himself away from her body and caught Francis staring at him with his normal haughty grin, except this time it was tinged with anger. 'Could he know?' Bash's heart dropped, but Francis turned and continued trailing behind Queen Catherine and Bash felt a weight lift. 'No, we were by the lake, and he was with Olivia, no doubt.'
"What is it, Bash? Is it about the necklace?" Bash could recognize the concern in her voice and her searching eyes, but he was not sure if it was concern for him or her own safety; it made his heart flutter either way.
"Yes, come with me." Instinctively, he took her hand and led her to a corridor just inside the east wing. He stopped to face her, suddenly aware they were still connected and she was not protesting. Their eyes met; Bash felt a blush creep up his neck and his hand became clammy. Mary's skin was warm and soft and Bash wanted nothing more than to trace his thumb along hers. Her gaze was full of anticipation and Bash longed to see it under different circumstances, but, instead, he released her. Bash needed to focus. Mary's safety was at stake and he would never risk her.
"Mary, that necklace…" his voice fell flat, unsure where to start. Mary offered it up to him, hoping it would help. Bash reached out and set his palm over hers, the necklace resting in between. He let his fingers graze her wrist before plucking the necklace from her hand, and he was sure he felt electricity in that moment. Mary turned her eyes away and Bash did not fail to notice her rubbing the spot where he had lingered.
Sebastian wanted to make sure, absolutely sure, that he was not mistaken before giving Mary anything to worry about. The necklace swung ominously in front of his face and his spirit sunk. 'There's no mistaking it. This is the butcher boy's.' A rush of air escaped his lips, a breath Bash didn't know he was holding.
"Sebastian, what is it?" Mary leaned in closer, her hand brushing his sleeve and her voice falling to a whisper, "Please, tell me." The ability to form coherent thoughts seemed to leave Bash with the onset of so many worries: Mary's proximity, the possibility of her harmed, and the thought of having to kill a man…
"Last night I was…visited by the butcher boy who was wearing that necklace. You've heard of his fall?" Mary nodded in confirmation and to urge him on. "The people of his faith claim that I owe them a debt. More than once, I've interrupted their blood sacrifices. The butcher boy said that if I did not choose someone else to sacrifice, they'd choose for me."
Mary's eyes darkened. Her voice came out a low timbre, "So that's what's been going on in the woods. Pagan sacrifice." She lifted her chin, as if accepting a challenge, "And now they've chosen me." Bash noticed the corners of her mouth curve down as she realized the weight of the situation. "Choose someone else. They want you to kill someone."
Bash's stomach twisted in knots when he looked at Mary's horror stricken face, her wide unbelieving eyes. He lost all formalities, all air of pretending he did not care for her. He felt himself grabbing her hands and leaning over her, "None of that matters now, Mary. What matters is your safety," he pleaded.
Words tumbled from Mary's mouth in a rush to change the subject, "Maybe the servants saw how the necklace got into my room. I'll question them." Mary turned and was twisting out of his grasp when Bash squeezed her palm tighter.
"Mary," he called after her. His tongue felt heavy and the guilt building up in him needed an escape. "I'm sorry," he said dully. A forlorn smile flickered across Mary's lips but was gone as quick as she. Sebastian was left to stare at the empty space where she had rounded the corner, the echo of her shoes still reverberating in the hall.
The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by Sebastian's ragged breathing. A fist slammed the wall, startling a guard posted outside some noble's door some way down the corridor. Bash swept through a side door before he could be asked after and began to make his way to his mother's new quarters, having been displaced by his father once again.
Diane de Poitiers sat quietly at her desk looking over some papers when her son burst through the door. She jumped a bit but relaxed once she saw it was only Bash that had brazenly entered her new home. "Mother we need to talk." Bash didn't know if she was ignoring the urgency in his voice or she truly did not notice it. Her eyes wandered back to her reading and a hand waved at an empty chair near by. Sebastian's teeth clenched, but he sat down nonetheless. "It's about the blood wood, mother."
The shuffling of her papers halted, he knew that would get her attention. Her eyes rose to meet his expectantly and pushed him to continue. Bash had no time for niceties, "I cut down a sacrifice, a man, and now I must choose another to sacrifice or they will kill Mary."
Diane's sigh was exasperated and all of a sudden made her sound older than she was, "What do you intend to do Sebastian?"
"Do they really think I could drag some innocent into the woods and slaughter them?" he scoffed out.
"Could you, to save yourself?"
"No!" Bash almost cried. He was no murderer he would not kill needlessly.
"But to save Mary?" His mother's eyes seemed to search him for some truth, some reaction she could surely cling to; even Diane de Poitiers, displaced mistress of the King, knew the importance of Mary's place in France. Bash's mouth hung open, another denial hanging heavy on his tongue, but if he said no he would be lying. He would do anything for Mary.
Bash grappled with his tongue for control and ripped his eyes from his mother's face, "I don't understand how you ever worshipped along side these savages."
Now it was Diane's turn to look away; it was a cruel thing Bash did, he knew she did not like to speak of it. "I was young. It was a different faith," her words sounded suspiciously like excuses. Bash did not hear his mother apologize for things often. "We worshipped the natural world, sacrifice was only a very small part of it, it was not human," she insisted.
"Do they consider me one of them because of you?" Bash did not mean for it to come out like an accusation, but it did anyway.
"I don't know. The larger question is what people here in the castle would consider you, if they knew."
Sebastian's eyes widened in disbelief, "I'm Catholic! I practice my father's religion, as do you." It pained Bash to be included into a group that threatened Mary. His jaw muscles tightened and he began to grind his teeth together in anger.
"Have no illusions. If they learned about my past we would both burn as heretics," her voice became more demanding, "You live here at your father's will and some day your brothers. Do not covet his future wife." Diane's voice dripped with a forced amusement, "Even the laws of your chosen faith are clear on that."
Bash's voice became hardened and insistent, "Mary is in danger because of me."
"And Francis will surely find out."
"If anything happened to her-"
"He will blame you."
Sebastian pushed himself out of the chair and paced in his mother's chambers. He was sweaty with panic and he was angry. Angry with himself, the pagans, his mother, Francis, and the situation this engagement put him in.
"So, that's my choice. Choose someone to kill or let them kill Mary." But it was no choice at all; Bash knew which path he would choose.
Diane could see how hurt Bash was, but her next words were not kind, "It's only a matter of time, now that they've marked her. Pay the debt, and then harden your heart against her." It came as a command, not a request.
Bash took another moment to look his mother over before grabbing the door handle to exit her home. If his mother only knew, Bash's heart could not be hardened against Mary; Mary was his heart. She filled every corner, every crevice. To harden his heart would be to rip it from his chest. He leaned on the wall outside of the door and took a few strained breaths. Bash's mind was made: he would not let Mary die for his mistakes.
A burning in his chest set Bash's feet in motion once more. He needed to find her before he burnt up from worry. He needed to tell her it would be all right. Bash remembered the alarm in her eyes; he must quell her anxiety. His feet took him to the upper levels of the castle on the floor of her chambers. Sebastian barely remembered his travel there, though it must have taken him a good while. Thoughts of Mary clouded his sense of time or place. He hoped he would catch her done with questioning the servants.
Bash reached her chamber doors, two guards posted on either side which told him Mary was in there. Before Bash could throw the doors open in a fit of passion, the guards stopped him, insisting on announcing his presence. Sebastian waited uncomfortably as the guard called out his name, "Sebastian de Poitiers, your Grace."
"He can enter," he heard her say. Bash could not measure her mood from her voice just yet, the doors and the clink of the guards armor muffled it. The guard exited her room and ushered him in. Bash nodded at him in thanks before making sure the door clicked shut and locked behind him. His hand felt glued to the handle, preventing him from turning around and facing Mary again. But he ripped himself away and turned.
"Sebastian," her voice was strained with fear and the smile she wore was forced, "what brings you here? It's not often you come visit my chambers." She knew why Bash was here and she knew why he did not come to her chambers, but she kept chattering away, "I was just going to read some. I wasn't sure what to read but I've finally decided on a book."
"Mary," Bash did not want to avoid the subject any longer, "I came to talk about the necklace." Mary's posturing fled from her body and she collapsed with a thud into her desk chair. The smile was gone and left a tight frown in its place, lines forming at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were red and she began to fiddle with the bodice of her gown. Yet, even like this, Sebastian could not help but love her. Mary looked worn and weak and like she could do with a bath and some food, but Bash noticed how soft her skin looked and how there was still the fire in her eyes from days ago. He averted his gaze to the floor and cleared his throat.
Mary lifted her eyes from her feet and looked up at him, "You shouldn't be here Bash," the use of his nickname, as if they were close friends, lifted his spirits some, "The guards and the servants will gossip."
"You're being paranoid," he responded, in a voice that he prayed came off as light-hearted.
"Do I not have things to be paranoid about?" she said exasperated, "The necklace, Queen Catherine, Francis' strange behavior."
'But not me. You never have to worry about me.' Sebastian wanted to blurt out his devotion to her, to pledge his sword and life to her willingly, but now was not the time. Bash feared there would never be a time.
"Yes, those are all dangers here at court, but me being in your chambers is hardly gossip worthy." Bash forced his voice to lilt and lose some of the seriousness from their conversation in the hall, "No one knows about-" 'us', "about the lake side."
Mary looked up ashamed and sad, "You're right, I'm sorry, Bash. I'm just so nervous." She continued to tamper with her gown more vigorously.
Bash was by her side in a few strides, kneeling below his Queen, and resting his hand on her shaking fingers, "Mary, I'm here, I'm going to take care of it." She did not lift her half-lidded eyes from their touching hands. Mary's other hand came to rest on top of his, and his soul sung so loudly within him, Bash was sure she would hear it.
"Oh, Bash."
