Francis ran a thumb along Mary's cheek, hoping not to wake her. He couldn't help himself from touching her lovely skin. Mary still seemed to be sleeping nestled against his chest, peacefully. He wished it could be like this forever.

Her eyelids fluttered as the sunlight began to stream through to the canopy bed. She felt him kiss her head as she murmured her good-morning's.

"Good morning, my bride," Francis replied.

Mary bit her lip. She loved how safe she felt in his embrace, but could Francis protect them from the future that was headed for them?

"Francis, we still need to talk," Mary told him seriously, trying to swivel herself to face him.

Francis laughed out loud when she found herself twisted in the bed sheets, but he stopped on seeing the firm line of her mouth and the sadness imploring him in her eyes.

"Mary, why are you worried?"

"Because I love you and I want you forever, as you, not the future King of France, and... and I know I cannot protect you from everything-"

He put a finger to her lips. "Your Grace, I do believe I am here for your protection," he told her with a smile on his lips. However Mary jerked her face away when he tried to kiss her.

"Francis, you cannot pacify me with your kisses," Mary attempted to say this sternly, all the while as a smile tugged at her lips.

"I accept this challenge," Francis said, his lips finding her neck.

Nuzzling her, he persisted lower to place kisses along her collarbone as she laughed, calling his name.

The servants had already been sent away and the morning was theirs. As far as Francis was concerned, they ought to pick up exactly where they left off last night. He scowled when he felt himself being pushed away.

"I respect that you don't heed the prophecy," Mary told him, trying to pull away from under him, "but I feel you are not respecting me by muting me and my worries."

Francis just looked at her dumbly.

"I fear for your life, which as a matter of fact, is put in danger by me," she told him. "I need you to take my worries seriously, if we are to be wed."

"But you are fretting over something stupid, like what my little brothers might be worried about," he spoke quickly, trying to reach for her again, to quiet her lips and her mind.

"This is not how this works, Francis. You do not get the last word."

"I will when I'm king!" he spat, frustrated to see her leave his bed.

"Well, until then, I am queen," Mary said gathering herself, "and you are nothing but impossible."

She strode away quickly, before Francis could even move the hair out of his eyes.

—

"Tell me, do you love your half-brother, Sebastian?"

Bash froze on his way to the throne room. He had not heart the heavy gilded skirts trailing behind him. More importantly, he had never heard the Queen of France address him.

He turned on his heel and dipped quickly in a bow before Catherine.

"Very much, Your Grace," Bash told her meeting her steeled gaze.

"And yet... you covet his bride?" her gaze froze him to his core. He thought of Francis - he knew he was uncomfortable but he had forgiven him after sacrificing a life for her in the Blood Wood.

"There is no such suspicion on my brother's part," he told Catherine, holding his head up. He intended those words to be assuring, but she saw the noose forming around his bastard-neck.

She threw in a false smile, but did not dismiss him.

"Is there something else you need answered?" Bash said with impatience creeping into his voice. He did not fear Catherine, but she knew how difficult she could make his life and his mother's.

"Why are you looking for the king?" she asked plainly.

"I seek Father," he told her coldly, "to bid my adieu. I wish to leave from Court."

"Alone?" Catherine raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," he said, looking back from her. "Maybe to rejoin my mother in Paris," he added when her gaze did not leave him. Something about Catherine's presence tethered a man to his place.

"Sebastian," she said with queenly airs, "I wasn't accusing you, I wanted to know where you stood on the matters. I would think you a simple fool to leave the palace without your dearest possession, one that I am told is already in your grasp: the Queen of Scots."

Sebastian's jaw tightened as he kneeled in front of her.

"I beg Your Majesty not to consider other royals as objects to possess," he spoke fiercely. "I should think that term is more appropriate for the nothings of the court, like myself." He nodded without looking up and stood up to take his leave.

But Catherine wasn't through with him.

"Who possesses whom is not my concern," she called after him, "I know what is on your mind and I only wish you were bold enough to make both of your dreams come true."

The bastard striding away from her may have refused to acknowledge her last point, but Catherine smiled to herself. She knew there were more than a few ways to break up a wedding. If only that tall, gangly, dark-haired thorn in her side would free itself and make away with her other major problem. He could take her away from French Court and go to Scotland... who knows? He could ruin her, for all Catherine cared. There were plenty of other prospects left for her handsome son to turn to.

Prospects that wouldn't bring about a premature death.

A\N: You can bet Mary and Bash are about to run into one another when they are at their most vulnerable. But what will happen? Should Francis be forgiven?
I hate the idea that Mary only chooses Bash to save Francis. He is so much better and dreamier.. and okay, I'm just fan-girl-king now and I'll

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