Author's Note: First, thank you SO much to everyone who has reviewed so far! You are truly motivating me to keep writing! This is my first fanfic so your comments mean a lot! Second, I have purposely not revealed whether this is a "Mash" or "Frary" story - I want to keep you in suspense! It's more fun that way, I promise ;-)
Bash wasn't sure what he was thinking as he led Mary into her chambers and softly closed the door behind them. Maybe he wasn't thinking at all. But the anguish on Mary's face was real, and he couldn't ignore that. Too much had passed between them for him to ignore her pain.
He guided her to the settee in the middle of the room, careful not to stand too close, or to touch her unnecessarily. It was easy for him to be sucked in by her, to forget everything else and do whatever it took to please her. But, this time, Kenna's image burned in his mind. Their marriage was not what either of them had wanted at the time, but their love had now just begun to blossom. Bash had told her so earlier that evening - that he loved her. She had brought him out of such a dark place. He had been devastated for so many reasons - the love of his life deserting him, having the crown snatched from his hands, just when he had started getting used to the idea of being King. And, perhaps worst of all, being virtually abandoned by his family. His mother had left, his father hated him, and his brother constantly eyed him with suspicion. It was unsurprising, after all that had happened.
But then Kenna was thrust upon him, and she was coming from a similarly dark place. They had supported each other, loved each other, so that Kenna was now a truly bright light in his life.
Bash swiftly poured a goblet of wine for Mary, suddenly torn from his thoughts about Kenna into a deja vu situation - his mind went back to the first time Mary had kissed him.
"It's funny," he began, handing Mary the wine, which she was quick to gulp, "I find I can't help being brought back to another time where I was handing you wine to calm you down."
He had said it with a lightness, in an effort to calm the mood and lift Mary's spirits, but she just gazed at him, looking utterly at a loss for words. His joke had clearly gone a bit awry, it looked almost as if he had scared her.
He checked himself. "Not to worry, I think we've both learned enough that we can now talk without… without… err, you know…" he trailed off, awkwardly. He felt like banging his head against a wall - why did he ever think it would be a good idea to bring up their past?
Mary blinked then, seemingly bringing herself back to reality. "It's fine, Bash, I'm afraid it's just that my mind is all over the place at the moment. I'm being pulled in all different directions. I hardly know how to even start talking to you."
Bash nearly reached out to grab her hand then, but thought better of it. Instead he sat back, and tried to help her express her thoughts. "Well, let's start at the beginning, I suppose. You said you've locked the gates?"
Mary nodded, taking another long gulp of wine before she began. "There are reports of plague in the village… we need to protect the castle."
Bash's eyes went wide. Plague. It was exactly as the old crone had said - this was the punishment being brought about by the darkness. There could be little doubt of this. Still, he felt it best to keep this from Mary… she clearly had other things troubling her, and learning that he was somewhat responsible for this pestilence was the last thing she probably wanted to hear.
"And… I take it Francis has gone, as you said? What did you mean when you said he went to 'her'?"
At this, Mary bent her head, tears prickling her eyes. Bash had expected this reaction, but he had had to ask.
"Francis is the father of Lola's child. She is giving birth as we speak… in the village."
Mary sniffled, clearly trying to fight back the tears that were begging to be released. Bash was almost too taken aback to notice. Francis and Lola? He quickly did some mental math in his head, realizing that their relations must have taken place while Mary was engaged to himself. Francis had been in Paris.
"I… I'm a bit stunned to hear that. I take it this relationship took place while you and I were engaged?"
Mary's head shot up then, anger flashing instantly in her eyes. "Does that make it right? Was it right for him to sleep with one of my best friends just because we were not together?"
Bash considered this for a moment, and then said, "Well, it's no different from the relationship that we had, was it? Ours was even worse. I am Francis's brother."
They were daring words for him to say, but it was true. How could Mary be so angry, when she herself had cast Francis aside in the first place?
"Oh, please! It is absolutely different. First of all, I only became engaged to you for the good of my country," she paused then, perhaps knowing that these words would hurt him, but then went on "and besides, we never slept together."
Bash let out a laugh then, amazed by the absurdity of it all. "Indeed, I suppose I was too much of a gentleman to wait until we were wed. I should have taken you while I had the chance."
Mary gasped. He knew his words would shock her. He had probably gone too far - forgetting the fact that he was meant to be comforting her, not bringing up baggage from the past.
"Forgive me, your grace," he began, reverting back to the formality of their positions, "I know not what I say."
A silence hung between them for several seconds, neither quite knowing how to proceed. Bash tried to trace their conversation back to the start, and decided it was best to hear Mary out and respond in a way which would help her, not hurt her.
"Please, do go on. I'm assuming that Francis has left the castle in order to attend to Lola in the village?"
Mary nodded, not making any effort to say anything further. Bash knew he would have to draw her out a bit, to make her trust him once more.
"Mary, if Francis rides straight to where Lola is staying, I'm sure he will be safe from the pestilence," Bash said, knowing that, at the root of it all, Mary was afraid for Francis's life above all else.
His words seemed to have the opposite effect, for Mary choked back a sob, turning from him as her tears began to flow. Bash acted upon instinct, feeling responsible then for making her feel so scared, and so sad. Saying "Francis" and "pestilence" in the same sentence had no doubt conjured up terrible images in her mind.
He reached out to her - he could just barely reach from where he was sitting across from her - and pulled her into his arms. She went to him willingly, nearly falling into his embrace and he wrapped his arms around her body. She cried into his shirt, and his only thought was to keep her close to him, as a means of shielding her from the evil in the world. Bash was still seated, and Mary naturally fell into his lap in a deepening of their embrace.
After a few moments, Mary pulled back slightly, enough to look at him straight in the eye. She was still so close. The scent of lavender in her hair wafted up to his nose, and he felt her short, quick breaths on his neck. He felt as if he could drown in her. Why was she not pulling back?
And then, she did. Suddenly and quickly, standing up and rubbing her hands down the sides of her dress, as if to wipe their embrace clean from her body's memory. Bash stood up as well and looked down to the ground, unsure - as he usually was in her presence - of how to proceed.
"I… I'm sure you're right, Bash. I don't know what we'll do when he returns, for we really should not let anyone into the castle when there is such a threat of disease. But he is the King, after all."
Bash stepped forward once again, placing his hands on her upper arms, looking down at her as he had so many times before. "Everything will be fine, Mary. Francis is strong and he is smart. I am sure he will do everything he can to return to you safely."
Mary nodded, though began backing away from his touch. "I hope so. He is my husband, and the King of France. He is much needed here. I need him here," she said, pointedly looking Bash in the eyes as she did. Yes, she was certainly trying to get a point across. She was distancing herself from him physically and mentally.
And with that, Bash decided it was very much time to leave her be. "I will take my leave of you then, your grace, unless you require anything else?" he was being brutally formal, he knew, but she had made him feel it was necessary.
She stared after him as he began to back his way to the door, and Bash thought he could almost sense an internal struggle going on within. But, she eventually responded, with finality and purpose that no, she did not need him any more.