Bash said nothing at first. He simply held her to him as she sobbed against his chest. All her emotions, her frustrations, her pain, it unraveled deep within her soul. Mary did not know why she was subject to such a loss as cursed love. All she knew was that she was being punished by some greater force; a greater force that was sending spirits to mock her suffering.

"Mary…" Bash murmured, his warm breath stirring her hair. "Mary, come on."

He helped her to her feet and she immediately stumbled forwards. Bash caught her just before she lost complete balance. She leaned against him, using his strong form to keep herself upright. She unconsciously, with a numbed mind, ran her hand down his arm and entwined it with her own as they walked. Bash's step faltered ever so slightly, but instead of letting go, he squeezed her hand softly. Mary did not notice, her head was lolled against his shoulder.

"Where are we going?" she whispered.

"To your chambers." he replied easily. Mary made a chirping sound in her throat, a disbelieving squeak.

As they walked down the darkened corridors, Mary could have sworn she saw shadows trailing close behind. There were no torches, the curtains were drawn and not a sound to be heard, nothing but a cold chill circulated amongst cold stone. Marble statues glared down as they passed, their faces etched with disappointment. Mary held fast to Bash's arm.

"Bash? Can I tell you something?" she asked, her voice soft and words slightly slurred.

"Anything."

Mary hesitated. She had never told anyone this, not even her ladies, not even Francis. Her worst fears, her nightmares, her hell, she had always kept it sealed within her heart. She had let it fester over all these years, all these painful years.

"I have dreams, nightmares, about my future." Mary choked. The next sentence nearly dropped her to the floor. "I see my future husbands and all I see is their betrayal. I – I see my gravestone… my gravestone…" she broke down into tears.

They had reached her chamber doors and, before anything else, Bash shoved them open using his shoulder. And as soon as it clicked shut, he embraced Mary, running warm hands through her hair. She hugged his waist and buried her head in his jacket.

"Mary, you must not think of such terrible things. It makes one sick." he whispered into her cheek.

"You do not understand." she said pushing away from him and walking into the middle of the room. "I see them killing, plotting, burning before me. I see Elizabeth toying with them like puppets."

"Mary…"

"I see you standing over my gravestone." she said abruptly, turning around to face him, no longer crying, but with sorrow etched into her features. Her eyes were hard.

Sebastian froze a breath away from her face.

Mary's bottom lip quavered. Bash reached up and, with both hands, cupped her face. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers.

"Your heart is so beautiful. Mary, you must not reflect on such things, it dampens your light." he murmured.

Mary reached up and touched his cheek. Silent tears ran down her red cheeks.

"I want you to know, I chose Francis because it was easy. It was easier to wed a man who could never love me so wholly as to put himself at risk." she uttered. "I chose him out of duty. I chose him because if I was wed to you - I would love you more than my own country…"

Mary gazed up at Bash and saw something she never would have thought conceivable.

Bash had tears running down his face.

Bash, who was not afraid of anything. Bash, who was seemingly immune to pain. Bash, who was stronger than any man she knew.

She reached up and hugged him and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Mary stroked the back of his head with a gentle hand. As Bash brought his hands to her waist, she noticed they were shaking. She pulled away ever so slightly so that their noses were almost touching, their bodies inches away from one another.

"Sebastian…" she breathed. "I love you Bash. I love you more than anything on this earth."

And Mary kissed him.

And he did hesitate to kiss her back.

And he was gentle and he was soft.

He reached up and pulled each pin lightly from her hair so that one by one, each strand fell to her shoulders. He ran his hands through her hair, tangling and twining it in his fingers. Mary teased his bottom lip and he let out a low growl deep within his throat. He gently ran his hands down the length of her body, stopping at her hips.

"Bash," she murmured. "You need not be so gentle. I will not break."

It was as if a fire lit up beneath them. Bash backed Mary up against the wall and she roughly tugged off his vest. He lifted her up, her back digging into the draperies, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She did not feel any pain, only excitement, excitement to have Bash fully enthralled in her.

Before Mary knew what she was doing, Bash's shirt came off and fell to the floor. His lips were everywhere; her neck, her cheeks, her breasts. He could not help but explore her body with his hands and mouth. Mary, too, was all over Bash, running hands down his abdomen, his waist. She felt warm fingers tickle her thighs and hips, her dress rising above her waist.

"Mary…"

"Yes?" her voice was light and breathy, her lips swollen from his kisses.

"Do you want this Mary?" he croaked, biting her ear, his hands firmly at her waist. Mary's head was tilted to the side and she leaned down next to his ear.

"I want you." she whispered.

It was as if it was her first time all over again. Only this time she was with a man much more experienced then Francis. A man that knew how to love her, not just kiss her.

Bash brought her back to him and she turned around against him as he expertly undid her laces. His hands were slow and methodical and, as he pulled each lace, he let his hands wander down her bare back. Mary's arms exploded with goose bumps. When her dress fell to the floor, Bash picked her up and gently laid her down on the bed.

What happened next was nothing but a blur; a wonderful, beautiful, erotic blur. There was just Sebastian and Mary, skin on skin, lips on lips. This was not blind passion, not the kind of passion shared between Francis and Mary, this was real.

This was Mary and Bash's first time. He was so gentle, so incredibly gentle. Bash knew that this was not Mary's first time, but he cherished it all the same.