There was an uncertainty in the air, heavy and cumbersome, when she woke the next morning. It had a dull and heady presence, winding its way through her body and mind. Dawn had blindingly found its way in through the closed window, its cool fingers stretching across the expanse of the room into dark corners, highlighting a reality she didn't trust to believe. The room was warm. The fire had died but the remnants of heat still clung to the walls and hung heavy in the air, scented with something she couldn't quite place.
Mary lay still, taking stock of her body and stretching, tight without movement. A sense of familiarity washed over her as if she had done this before. Except this time there she was without the comfort of waking to someone she trusted watching over her. She was all alone.
A knock sounded from her door across the room, followed by a cheeky face peering from behind it.
"Are you decent?" Bash asked, then walked into the room before she could answer, careful to close the door behind him.
Mary pushed herself into a sitting position and pulled the blankets tighter around her vulnerable form. "Good morning, Bash," she replied with a sheepish smile.
Bash smiled and rocked on his heels, hands clasped behind his back, brash smile tugging the corners of his lips upwards. "I have news for you."
"What have you discovered?" Her interest and fear both perked. Mary pulled the blankets from her body and slid from the bed to cross the room towards him.
"The English are behind it," he stated simply.
Confusion knit itself between Mary's eyes. "That's all?"
Bash smiled. "It's only been a day. Give me more time and I will uncover more for you."
"I don't have more time!" Mary cried, turning her back to him.
Bash reached out and gently grasped her arm with his hand, spinning her back to face him and pulling her closer than was decent. "No one will get to you, Mary. You have my word."
So much promise was embedded in those light blue eyes that Mary had no choice but to believe him. "I need this to be over, Bash. I can't live like this."
"You won't have to for much longer. I will put an end to it." His voice was bursting with assurance.
Mary took a step closer to breath him in, recognizing the scent from the air when she woke as the scent of Bash. She wondered how long he had been with her last night to have left such a mark upon her room after he left.
"Guaranteeing your own safety of course," she stated.
"Mary," Bash whispered, raising a hand to meet her cheek.
She closed her eyes at the rush of sensation, new and forbidden, leaning her cheek in to meet his palm. When she opened her eyes he was closer, their noses almost touching, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Mary," he breathed again.
To silence him Mary pressed her lips against his own, sweet breaths mingling in a collision of fire. Bash placed his hand on the cradle of her head, pulling her towards him and deepening the kiss and Mary gasped as his other hand found his way much further south than her waist.
She awoke with a start at the same moment Bash pulled away from their kiss, gasping for air in the same bed she had just dreamed about, hands clenching the blankets at either of her sides. Francis was at her side in a moment, standing sentinel at the edge of her bed, concern raging across the features of his face.
"Mary, what is it?" He asked.
Mary gasped the air into her lungs, begging the air to bring sanity back to her. The dream had been so real, so vivid. She could still feel Bash's hands on her body, still feel the tingle on her lips from his, still smell the scent of him against her.
"It was just a dream, Mary. Just a dream," Francis soothed, sitting on the edge of her bed and stroking her hair back from her face.
Her eyes found his, light and reassuring, and at last she caught her breath as though she had run a mile, her breathing finally returning to normal.
"Francis." His name was a breath from her lips.
"You're alright," he cooed. "What were you dreaming about?"
Mary felt her breath hitch again. "I don't remember."
Francis nodded. "The physician said vivid dreams were to be expected. Are you alright? You're quite pale."
Mary nodded her head in response and swallowed. "Just thirsty."
Francis left her side and came back a moment later with a cup of water which she gratefully sipped. "You've been out for nearly half a day. It's mid afternoon already."
Her eyes found the window, bright with late afternoon sun low in the sky. It was a cloudless and beautiful day.
"How is that possible?" She asked. She didn't even remember falling asleep, let alone sleeping well into the next day.
"I had Nostradamus make a potion for you. Something to help you rest. He did warn me that it could produce very real dreams."
"I'll say," Mary muttered to herself. Francis cocked an eyebrow, knowing she was keeping something from him but not pushing the issue.
"How do you feel?" He asked instead. "Well enough for a walk?"
Mary pushed the covers from her body just as she had done in her dream and gently placed her bare feet on the cool floor below. Her body stood powerful and strong, albeit a little shaky.
"I think so. I might need some help getting dressed though."
"I'll fetch your dressing maids," Francis said, turning to leave.
"Actually," she called after him. "My ladies don't need to be bothered with such trivial things and I don't trust any of the servants to help me. Would you mind?" She asked, a shy smile playing across her face.
Francis heart skipped a beat. "Help you…" He cleared his throat. "Help you dress?"
Mary nodded shyly. "We're engaged to be married, Francis. It's hardly improper."
"To be honest my specialty is more getting women out of their dresses," he said with a cheeky grin. "Not putting them into them. I'm not sure I know how."
"I'll guide you," Mary said, walking towards him. "Turn round while I slip this off and I'll tell you when you can look."
He hesitated, a coy smile playing across his features.
"Turn round," she scolded with a half laugh, enjoying his rare moment of light hearted merriment.
Mary watched as Francis turned his back to her, then readied the things she needed to dress. She pulled her nightgown from her body, baring her naked self to Francis' back, then slipped the loose fitting dressing slip over her head and pressed the front of her corset against herself.
"Okay. You can turn around now."
Francis turned and the sight of her took his breath away. Her bare back was almost entirely exposed, a silk gown covering all the other things he wished he could see. One of her arms hung loosely at her side, the other held her corset to her breast.
"I need you to tie the laces on this," she instructed, reaching behind her and holding one of the ties out to him.
Francis crossed the distance separating them and took the tie from her hands, their fingers brushing in a moment of electricity. He grabbed the laces from the other side and held the two together. Unable to resist himself, Francis ran one finger down the center of her bare spine, watching with pleasure as goosebumps arose to meet his touch.
"Francis," she cautioned with words, yet encouraged with her body.
"Sorry," he said, not sorry at all. "Couldn't help myself."
He missed the smile that crossed her face as he pulled the laces of the corset towards himself. "Too tight?"
"Not at all," Mary replied, waiting with patience as his deft and skilled hands tied her in. "Now I need you to hold this while I step in."
She handed him a heavy gold gown, embroidered in intricate black designs. He took the dress dumbly from her hands, holding it awkwardly. Mary smiled.
"Like this," she guided, opening the folds of the dress so the inner body was exposed, then handed it back to Francis.
"You know I'd much rather be taking you out of this," he said flirtatiously, grinning at the blush that responded to his words across her cheeks.
"As would I," she said, stepping into the dress anyways and letting it hang from her waist, her upper body still clothed in nothing but her corset and the silk dressing gown beneath.
Francis' couldn't keep his eyes off her, breathing in every inch of her perfection, his desire for her growing. "I've never wanted you more, now that I realized how easily I can lose you," he admitted in defeat. "I'm terrified of losing you, Mary."
"You're not going to lose me," she reassured, placing her hand on his arm. "I'm right here."
His gaze remained serious as his hand found the crook of her neck, the other resting against her barely clothed waist. He pressed a soft and gentle kiss to her mouth, trying to convey his desperation with his touch instead of his words.
"Here," Francis said as he pulled away from their kiss, handing her the sleeve of her dress. "Let's put this on you before I can't stop myself from taking it off you entirely."
She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "All in good time."
He winked good-naturedly at her and slid the other sleeve over her arm, laced the intricate ties across her back and spun her around to face him again.
"For awhile, just a little while, let's just be a boy and a girl. Not the king or queen of anything. Today I simply want to enjoy your company."
Mary grinned, unable to think of anything she wanted more in the moment, other than all of Francis. "That sounds wonderful."
He placed another kiss against her lips, quick, like a habit they would do for the rest of their lives, and took her hand in his, guiding her to the door. A rapt knock stopped them as a face peered out from behind.
"Sorry to interrupt Your Grace, Dauphin," the guard said with an apologetic nod. "But it's Sebastian. The King has asked me to inform you that he has been gravely injured."
Mary and Francis turned to each other, sharing a look of horror, no longer just a girl and a boy, never to be just that again.