Thank you so much for your interest in this story, and the great reviews! I am excited to lead you through this AU version of Reign.
Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is generally mine. Inspired somewhat by the fantastic 'Queen of Camelot' by Nancy McKenzie. Also, history has been altered for this story. This is definitely AU!
The second week passed by much as the first had. Mary asked a number of questions of Sebastian regarding the state of France, her courtiers, and the nature of reconstructing the French court. She asked everything, except questions about Francis. She hoped Bash would not catch on, but she did not want to taint her time with him with thoughts of his brother. It was a treaty, one she would obey without question. Why would she? She was Queen of Scotland, and eventually would be Queen of France. Soon. It was her duty.
But as she watched the man in front of her, how his lips moved while he spoke, the occasional upward tilt in the corner that indicated his happiness, or how his brow furrowed when she asked a question, listening intently to every word she spoke, seeds of doubt grew when her mind. She was always taught about her duty. Her duty to her country, her duty to her mother and late father, but what of her duty to Mary?
Her mother once wrote to her that love was a blessing, rarely given, but cherished when there. Her mother had loved her father, in her own right, but was it love because of duty, or love of the man? When she had truly known of her engagement to Francis, she assumed, unless he was not kind to her, that love would grow, in time. But to find love first?
Love? No, Mary never assumed she would find someone she loved. She did not want to claim she loved Sebastian even, for she had only known him two weeks, but yet, deep within her, she felt as if she had known him for centuries. It was a curious feeling, to be drawn to another person in such a fashion. It frightened her, to want to walk where he walked, to need to hold his hand in her own, and to wonder what his lips might feel like on hers?
It must have been witchcraft, Mary thought mockingly, for such a sudden attraction, sudden wanting, could not be natural. She was cursed, that must be it.
"Mary, you are going to worry a hole in your shawl." Lola commented jokingly. Mary's fingers had mindlessly picked a thread loose on her shawl without thought. If she pulled the thread, her shawl would unravel, much like the threads of her mind. If she let Sebastian get a hold of one of those threads, all might be lost of her senses.
"Silly me, I let my mind wander." Mary replied with a sad smile.
"What bothers you, Mary? Do you not want to meet Francis? Are you frightened?" Lola had been folding the freshly cleaned linens, and gently set them aside to join her Queen by the window.
"Yes, of course I want to meet him. It is just ..." Mary hesitated, seeing two figures approach the estate from the gardens. Sebastian's form appeared first, followed costly by one of his men. "Overwhelming." She finished, a bit lamely.
Lola's eyes traced the path of Mary's sight, identifying the men before they entered the castle. She had watched the interaction between her Queen and the Duke of Poitiers, and what she saw concerned her. There was an attraction there, to be sure, especially from the Duke. Lola was not surprised, for the few excursions the Lord and Lady Carme allowed them in to the town, the eyes of men always followed Mary. But to see the attraction reciprocated, that was a different beast all together.
"It is not Francis that concerns you, but his brother, is it not?" Mary's head swiveled quickly towards Lola, their eyes exchanging many words that would be left unspoken. Mary had not wanted to acknowledge her feelings towards Sebastian to herself, let alone to Lola. But how could she acknowledge feelings if she did not understand them herself?
"Nothing concerns me, Lola, I am fine." The knowing look across Lola's face told Mary she knew otherwise, so Mary thought it best to change the subject. "Shall we go see how our visitors are this afternoon?"
Lola nodded, lacing her arm through Mary's as they headed down the hall. In Lola's mind, the quicker they could get to the French Court and have Mary wed to Francis, the better for all parties.
Mary's fingers idly picked at the blades of grass beneath them, the palm of her hand tickling the tips of the blades. They sat on a woven blanket, the warmth of the sun reflecting off the dark shades of the fabric. The large oak provided some shade and relief from the heat of the afternoon, as did the gentle breeze that tossed Mary's hair across her shoulders.
"Can I ask you something personal?" Mary questioned, her voice breaking softly on the wind. Sebastian had been admiring the way her curls floated against the breeze, so though the sound of her voice broke the silence, he did not show surprise.
"Of course Mary, you may ask me anything. If it is in my power, I will answer." The earnestness in his voice surprised even Bash, but his words were true. If Mary asked, he would answer.
"Am I fit to be Queen?" The words were soft, and covered in worry. Shifting his eyes upwards, he saw the hunger for acceptance in Mary's eyes. She wanted to be a good Queen.
"I may be biased, Your Grace, but you are more than France could have hoped for." He wanted to amend his statement, add that she was more than he could have hoped for, but the words stuck in his throat. They were words for a different time and place, and one that would most likely never exist. "Though I have only known you two weeks, I have come to see your kindness, thoughtfulness, beauty, grace, and uncanny intelligence. You do not need France. France needs you."
There was a tear in Mary's eye that she hastily wiped away. The words were said with such confidence and strength that it was hard to doubt them.
"You are just being nice, Bash." Mary chuckled through her blurred vision, as the tears were getting harder to hold back. She felt a hand curl around her own. Raising her eyes, and blinking away the moisture, Mary saw Sebastian leaning towards her, his right hand wrapped around her left. He shifted, his other hand reaching for her right.
Her hand had been resting in her lap, and she could feel the pressure of his arms against her thigh. His head ducked towards her, and for a minute she thought he might kiss her. For Mary, the scary thought was she would not have stopped him.
He ducked his head, his eyes searching for hers as she had lowered her head in embarrassment.
"Mary, you must understand. I do not say these things to flatter you, I say them because I mean them." He squeezed her hands gently, trying to offer some physical comfort as well as spoken. "France, and Francis, are lucky to have you." He added softly, releasing her hands and removing himself to an appropriate distance, seeing as their other companions were within shouting distance.
"Thank you, Sebastian. You are a true friend, and I am glad to have you here to guide me." Wiping away the last tear that threatened to streak her cheeks, Mary hastily turned her thoughts away from Sebastian, the gallant man in front of her, to Sebastian, Duke of Poitiers and the King's General. "Tell me, what do you believe will be my biggest challenge returning to the French court?"
"Where should I begin?" He chuckled, finally releasing the warmth of her hand. "Our King wants to rebuild the might and power of France. Visually, that comes in several pieces. For me, that comes in the form of reestablishing the French military. We have been drained of money and manpower."
"So that is your job?" Mary questioned.
"Part of it, yes, along with training the new soldiers, and rebuilding our defenses. Right before I came here, I was placing the final touches on revitalizing the Chateau de Blois, what will be your new home. It is not yet complete, by any means, but I hope it will not disappoint." Mary smiled encouragingly.
"If your hand is in it, I am sure it will not." Mary saw the blush creep up his cheeks are her complement, her stomach fluttering giddily. "So while you and Francis are establishing the French might, I am redefining the French life?"
"You are quite perceptive, Mary. Yes, I mentioned to you in previous conversations the need to pull the court back together, encourage them to return home, and I think a splendid woman, such as yourself, will be able to accomplish that task."
"What about my Scottish brethren? What you have said sounds wonderful, but I am not only to be a French queen. I am the Queen of Scotland."
Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. Marrying Francis would make her Queen of France, and him King Consort of Scotland. With so much emphasis placed on the rebuilding of France, would Scotland get mixed in the shuffle?
"My dearest Mary, that is where your keen insight and intelligence will guide Francis. He has been focused on what is best for France, as have we all for so many years, that it will be your advisement that will allow him to see outside his own world. You can better France, and Francis, by being a ally, and in turn strengthen Scotland's ties to mainland Europe, and create a powerful monarchy." Bash felt winded after the words, hoping his meaning came through clear. He never wanted Mary to doubt her opinion would be heard, or her ideas not dismissed. He most definitely did not want her power overlooked.
"You have a lot of faith in someone you just met, someone who has not seen the complete horrors of the countryside yet."
"I thought I made myself clear earlier. There is no deception in you. I trust you." He sighed, knowing Mary was not being obstinate, such unsure of herself. "Just know this, Your Grace, my trust, and my faith, are not easily bestowed."
"Nor are mine, Duke." She hesitated, watching for subtle changes in the features of his face. "And I trust you."
And she watched him smile.
They sat around the library fire that evening, Mary, Lola and Aylee, Greer, Sebastian and Claude. Absent from the party were Kenna and Luke, much to Mary's chagrin. The pair had become increasingly comfortable together, and though Mary did not mind, she wanted to protect her ladies image.
"I must say, Duke, you were honest about the safety of my ladies reputations." Mary spoke cheekily, speaking of his title while in the company of her ladies.
"Yes, I was. A ladies reputation is not to be trifled with." Sebastian replied, not meeting Mary's gaze. Claude cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes meeting Greer's on occasion. Mary watched the exchange with interest, grinning to herself. "Claude, might you go check on our companion?" Sebastian spoke lightly, a hint of humor in his voice.
"No thank you, General. I think I will retire for the night." He stood, bowing to Mary, and acknowledging the others. His eyes, once again, lingered on Greer. "Ladies."
As the door closed behind him, Mary and her ladies genuinely laughed. The tension had been palpable with Claude in the room, knowing very well where, and with whom, his companion was at this late hour.
"Well that was awkward." Greer joked, easing herself up from her spot by the fire. "I think I, too, shall retire for the night, but to my own room." The ladies laughed again, bidding goodnight to one another.
"Let me speak candidly." Sebastian broke the jovial atmosphere, all eyes turning to him. "I was honest when I said to please be careful regarding the soldiers. These men are gentleman, to be sure, but remember when we arrive back at the Chateau, war can make criminals out of the best of men."
"If Kenna were here, I think she would thank you for dampening our spirits." Lola replied sadly.
"No, Sebastian is right. This is not a warning to be afraid, but more an acknowledgement of the new situation we will be entering, am I right?" Her eyes widened at him, hoping she had not misunderstood his words.
"Mary is right, I am sorry for scaring you, that was not my intention." He smirked, Aylee and Lola joining in. "Maybe I should prepare you for the onslaught of attention you will receive back at court."
"Now that sounds much more enticing." Mary replied, setting down her needlework. "Let us all get some rest. There is still much to be done before our departure."
Greer had already left, Lola and Aylee close behind. Mary bid her goodnight to Sebastian, walking in front of him towards the door. His hand shot out, grabbing hers. He stayed seated, his eyes on the fire as it danced wickedly amongst the logs, but his thumb moved gently against her palm.
Mary froze, the movement of his hand was so intimate, and yet so friendly. And yet something so wanted. She stood in silence, refusing to glance at him. That thread she had unconsciously picked earlier would unravel if her eyes met his. She knew he did the same, his gaze fixed determinedly on the fire, afraid of what would happen if he glanced her direction.
Whether it was the warmth of the fire, or the warmth of their connected hands, Mary was unsure, but she suddenly felt desperately uncomfortable in her layers of fabric. Her stomach fluttered uncontrollably, her body almost shivering from the sensation.
It was unbearable, she thought, the pull towards this man. She wondered if he felt the same. A quick glance at his rigid body posture, the way his other hand fisted against the chair, answered her question. He was fighting the same inner battle, and the same strange sensation they had first picked up on when the met in the meadow two weeks ago.
A sudden chill came over Mary, and in fear she looked over her shoulder. He was gone, as if his entire presence had been a figment of her imagination. A ghost, truly conjured by witchcraft. But as she grasped her hand to her chest, she felt the sliver of warmth that remained from his hand, reminding her he was real.
Very real.
And so were her feelings towards him.