Earlier that day...
Francis woke up feeling worse than the night before. Not only did he still hate himself for breaking things off with Mary, he now felt guilt over using Olivia to try to escape his problems. He had told her that he couldn't promise her anything, but he knew she still hoped for more. Careful not to wake her, he quietly got out of bed, threw on his clothes, and slipped out of her room.
What was he doing? Returning to Olivia's arms was meant to solidify his resolve to keep his distance from Mary, but it hadn't brought the clarity he'd hoped it would. He was more confused than ever. His thoughtless kiss with Olivia had led to Mary's kiss with Bash, and now the four of them were trapped in an impossible situation that would leave no one unscathed. Just when he and Mary had finally gotten to a good place, they had all made a mess of everything. It was up to him to untangle it.
Mary looked at herself in the mirror and couldn't help but fidget. She tried once again to pull her dress up to cover more of her décolletage, but Greer lightly slapped her hand away and told her not to mess with it. Her friends assured her she looked beautiful, but Mary felt extremely uncomfortable. She had never worn a dress so..bold before, and never would have but for Kenna's insistence that the way to win back Francis was to remind him of what he was missing. Lola had remarked that hopefully, what Francis missed most about Mary was her heart, not her curves, but even Aylee admitted that it was a sound plan to regain a young prince's attention. So the girls had searched through all their chests and found, unsurprisingly in Kenna's collection, a striking black silk gown, fitted, embroidered with gold thread, and featuring a shockingly low neckline without any straps to hold up the precarious couture confection. If it weren't for the arm-length matching gloves and her long hair covering her shoulders, Mary would have felt nearly naked. She didn't like resorting to such low tactics, but it couldn't be helped. Olivia was set on seducing her fiancé, under Queen Catherine's orders, no doubt. And Mary had a mission, too. She was sent to France to ensure Scotland's alliance, and she would do whatever it took to keep her engagement to Francis. Besides, she thought, all's fair in love and war, and this was both.
That evening there was a party to welcome the new English ambassador. As soon as Francis arrived at the entrance hall, Olivia found him. He expected her to pout and ask him where he had disappeared to that morning and why she hadn't seen him all day, but instead she simply smiled and asked him how his day was. They fell into an easy conversation. Everything was easy with Olivia. There was a familiarity and sureness that he found comforting. She was charming and vivacious, and her infectious laughter helped him relax. Francis supposed that was what his father liked about his mistress Diane.
A wave of excited murmurs went through the crowd. They turned to see what the commotion was about: the arrival of Queen Mary. Francis felt his jaw drop and his pulse quicken. She looked absolutely stunning. Mary was always radiant, but tonight was different. Francis had never seen her in such a..daring and undeniably alluring garment. The dress drew the eyes, everyone's it seemed, to her statuesque figure. Olivia must have seen his reaction because her grip on his arm tightened.
As poised as ever under all the extra scrutiny, Mary strode directly to them. Before they could greet her properly, she spoke.
"Excuse me," she said to Olivia, in a tone that sounded more like "Excuse you." Francis' mouth twitched in a part-frown, part-smirk. "I need a word with my fiancé." Olivia withered under Mary's imperious gaze, dropped into a hasty curtsy, and left them.
"Mary-" Francis started.
"You've made it very clear that we should stay away from each other." she interrupted. "But there's a room full of English envoys in there, and unless you want another Simon and more threats to my life, we need to maintain the pretense of a strong alliance and unified front."
Her tone was brisk, and he found himself missing her usual warmth. But she was right. "Of course." he said. "Shall I escort you to the party then?" He held out his hand to her.
She looked at it and then back to him. "Can you do this?" she challenged. He honestly didn't know if he could be so close to her without breaking his resolve, but he nodded.
"Good." Mary took his hand, and the crowd parted as he led her through the doors into the banquet hall.
They did the mandatory turn around the room, conversing with French aristocracy and foreign dignitaries, especially the English. Francis could tell she was tense, but he doubted she was as high-strung as he was. It was maddening, pretending to be affectionate while resisting the urge to touch more than her hand and trying not to gaze at her eyes, her lips, her neck, her...
Francis snapped his head up. "Would you like to dance?" he blurted.
Mary raised her eye brows, glanced quickly at the emissary she had been speaking to, then forced a smile. "I'd love to. Please excuse us, Your Excellency." She followed Francis to the dancing area, and they took their places.
"What happened to keeping your distance?" Mary asked quietly when they came together again, palm to palm.
"A dance is expected of us." Francis answered, though it was just an excuse.
They didn't speak for the rest of the dance, but the silence between them said so much. Every meeting of their eyes or hands, every brush of their shoulders or hips, made the air crackle around them. And as the dance wore on, their masks melted and revealed the pain, regret, and longing in their eyes. When the song ended, he led her off the floor. Francis wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he never intended to hurt her; it was just the only way to prevent more pain later.
But then she curtsied, and without a word or a second glance, Mary left him.
It had been harder than she had imagined it would be. Mary was still frustrated with Francis, but she was mostly hurt. To be so near to him yet separated by a sea of regrets... Trying to calm her erratic heart, she made her way to her friends. They congratulated her; Francis could not take his eyes off of her, they said. With that part of their operation a success, they announced it was time for the next. Mary introduced her ladies-in-waiting to the eligible bachelors in the room. If her friends' first priority was Mary's engagement, then their second was to secure their own. Thankful for their support, she was eager to help them, but according to Kenna, the real purpose was to make Francis mad with jealousy. So even though the Prince's fiancée and the King's new mistress had no need for "husband hunting," as they called it in private, they accompanied Aylee, Greer, and Lola as they played the game of courtly love.
The lords showered them with flattery and charm, and the ladies reciprocated with coy smiles and high praise. The amusing anecdotes, mild flirtations, and droll jests made Mary laugh and feel lighter than she had in months. It was wonderful, to spend time with good friends and good company, to forget, just for a few hours, that she was a queen. At the moment her country was safe, and even Queen Catherine seemed to be nicer to her lately, probably because her plans with Olivia were working, but at least Mary needn't fear for her life on that end. The night was a pleasant reminder for Mary. When she wasn't so focused on Francis, she could enjoy a festive mood and simple companionship. She could be happy without him after all.
Perhaps Francis was right; maybe it was best to keep things neutral between them until their marriage. It made her life easier. Didn't it?
Bash leaned in a dark corner of the room and observed the scene. He wondered if Francis knew how obvious he was, "secretly" watching Mary from the edges of the crowd. Not that he could blame him, or any other red-blooded man in the room for that matter, when Mary looked especially enchanting. She seemed to be having a good time, and it made Bash smile. It was a departure from his usual devil-may-care attitude of only seeking his own pleasure. But he cared for Mary, and she deserved to be happy, not to be a pawn in politicians' games.
When Mary looked up, perhaps drawn by the intensity of his gaze, he raised his glass to her. She excused herself from the group of friends and admirers around her and came to him.
"Good evening, Bash." she greeted politely.
"Mary," he bowed. "You're looking ravishing. I assume your enticing ensemble is for Francis' benefit, or torture, as the case may be?" She blushed prettily. "Well, I can tell you that it's working like a charm." He nodded to the opposite corner, and she turned to see Francis frowning at the two of them and ignoring Olivia. Mary turned back to Bash, supremely unfazed.
"You're not afraid to be seen with me by Francis?" asked Bash, his eyebrow cocked.
"No, I'm not." Mary said immediately, which gratified him greatly.
"I'm honored that you would risk Francis' wrath for me." He grinned. "Then again, you're not the one whose life he threatened." he added, only half-jokingly.
She huffed. "He's being ridiculous." Then her vexed expression turned serious. "However..I do think we should keep our relationship strictly platonic, and public, Bash."
"Why, because Francis demands it?" he asked, daring the proud queen to defy her fiancé rather than submit to him.
"No, because I do." Mary stated firmly, looking at him square in the eyes. "This isn't about Francis. It's what I want. It's best for all involved because what happened between us was a mistake I will never make again. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but these are mine. So we either continue, as friends, or..I will be forced to cut off all contact with you."
Bash's smug smirk disappeared. He knew he could never have Mary, but to never talk with her or see her smile again? He swallowed hard before speaking. "Then I guess I have no choice." he sighed. "I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable. You know I am always here for you, Mary. And if what you need right now is a friend, then that is what I will be for you."
Mary nodded apologetically. "Thank you, Bash. However Francis feels, I do value our friendship."
Bash ignored the pang in his heart. "As do I." he said with a sad smile. This would have to be enough.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Francis heading straight for them. "But I also value my life, so perhaps I'll let you explain our situation to my brother, Mary. He's coming this way."
She closed her eyes and appeared to steel herself for the coming confrontation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~To Be Concluded~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N 1: This, like the show, is a piece of historical fiction/fantasy. I tried to avoid being anachronistic, but I do little research on the historical figures/places. I do not own Reign or its characters. Please review if you like or dislike. Thanks!
A/N 2: A flashback chapter! Trying something new; hope it doesn't fail/clash terribly. Just wanted to add more context, insight, and hopefully humor to the story. More of Francis and Mary's POV, plus supportive Bash (there, chrisrose, some Mash hope.;) The confrontation in Ch.1 continues in Ch.3 (last).
A/N 3: Mary's dress is based on this promo photo from 1x07: [t.[co]/ZBKc7syg4a]. I hope it tortures Francis. XD
A/N 4: Don't forget to vote for Reign for Favorite New TV Drama at the People's Choice Awards! Vote at the PCA site, FB, app, or tweet "Reign #newtvdrama #PeoplesChoice". Let's show the power of Royals!