Thank you so much for your interest in this story, and the great reviews! I appreciate every single one of them. 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 skies opened up the following week, forcing everyone to keep inside from the torrential downpour. Sebastian felt like a caged bear. He had never spent more than a day inside in his life. He paced the hallways like a silent predator, though his prey, even to him, remained elusive. He was restless, and frankly irritable. Several times, his feet took him straight to Mary's door, but he never knocked. To knock would be to admit he missed her company, desperately. Mary knew of his regard for her, even after such a short time, but he wanted to rein it in, prove to himself that he would not let his feelings run afoul of his decisions. And yet what had he told her over the previous few weeks? 'Some might say I am more ruled by my emotions.'
"Damn it all!" He cursed, stopping his ministrations long enough to sigh, his head falling back on his shoulders in defeat. His heart pounded solidly in his chest, echoing his previous footsteps. He wanted nothing more than to write away his feelings for her as purely lust, the sins of the flesh for a man deprived of a woman's company. But he laughed at the notion. She was attractive, yes, but it was the goodness of her soul that shone through to him; the beauty within, not just the outward beauty. That last day in the courtyard, before the storms had crested on the horizon, she had reached for his hand, nothing more than a friendly grasp.
And he had nearly lost his life.
He was horrified at the thoughts that skimmed his mind. He had wanted to kiss her, claim her there in the courtyard for all to see. Maybe it was lust clouding his judgement, but if it was lust, or want of companionship, he could have claimed any woman in the village pub, but all he could think about was her. He needed some physical way to release his pent up energy. Something to ease his physical torment.
He wanted to possess her mind, body and soul. He wanted to call her his Mary. She can never be yours, his mind yelled feverishly.
In the mental state he was in, Bash was glad Mary was otherwise preoccupied. He had only seen her at the evening dinners that week. The foul weather had encouraged Mary and her ladies to pack most of their belongings as they could, so as not to be rushing when the time came to leave. And for this, Bash was thankful. The last thing he would want to do is jeopardize what friendship they did share by letting his emotions overrule his common sense.
In frustration, his fist met the concrete stone wall, hoping the pain would relegate his thoughts and his feelings for Mary. Instead, it drew his attention back to the source of his frustration, and a strangled cry erupted from him.
"Control yourself, man," Bash admonished, looking down at his bruising knuckles. He knew his feelings, this passion that roared inside him, would not be quelled easily. He just hoped, and prayed, his actions would never dishonor his King, his country, or his Mary.
Resolute on his course of action, Sebastian headed back towards the dining hall, seeking an adjacent room where he might find his men. The pounding of his feet upon the stone kept his mind from drifting back to Mary. He felt the jolt of flesh on stone through his body, and he concentrated on that harsh, resonating vibration.
"General," Claude acknowledged as Bash entered the room. Sebastian stopped in his tracks. Greer was sitting at Claude's feet, thumbing through a rather large novel. Luke and Kenna were huddled closely near the fireplace, speaking in hushed tones. And watching his every move, Mary sat at the back table, a book held open between herself and Lola. Everyone stared awkwardly at Sebastian, for he had remained silent.
"I am sorry to interrupt, ladies. Your Grace." He bowed toward Mary, and she smiled genuinely in return. The room became suddenly more stifling. "Claude, Luke, let us find some space to spar, shall we? I fear I am going crazy inside thanks to this blasted weather." His men quickly assented, the idea sounding good to them as well.
"Excuse me?" Mary asked, rising from her chair.
"Yes, Your Grace?" Sebastian acknowledged with a sigh, hoping his exasperation would not show.
"Might my ladies and I watch?" Bash stared at Mary. The whole reason for his caged energy stood before him, and now she wanted to watch the only means he had presently of release.
Bash's shoulders dropped in defeat, a motion Mary may not have noticed, but his men did. He glanced at Luke, watching him try and hide the look of amusement from his face. "As You Grace wishes," He replied courteously, and he strode from the room, looking for a suitable place to spar.
They found an available room on the other end of the estate, a former dining area with large windows lining the walls, and a solid concrete floor. Mary and her ladies lined the edge of the room, between the imposing concrete pillars, eager to watch the men spar with each other.
Sebastian did not want an audience. He wanted to pound away his misery, and be given a brief respite from his overwhelming emotions. But he would not be allowed that luxury today. In anticipation, he shrugged off his doublet, his shirt hanging loose around his torso. Luke and Claude had done the same, their right hands resting lightly on the hilt of their swords.
"Fencing, General?" Luke asked, and Sebastian nodded.
"At least to start," Bash replied, and the men chuckled together.
Circling his men, Bash gripped the hilt of his sword, not removing it from his scabbard yet. The thought had crossed his mind to completely forgo fencing and just resort to boxing. But boxing was messy, sometimes bloody, and definitely not as skilled as fencing. Now that Mary would be watching, the need to impress her bubbled within him.
Eying Luke determinedly, Sebastian drew his sword, holding it in front of him, perpendicular to the ground. Luke saw the unspoken invitation, raising his sword in kind.
"En guard," began Bash, properly placing his feet.
"Prêt," continued Luke, inclining his head in Bash's direction.
"Allez," whispered Bash, making the first lunge.
The clang of steel reverberated around the somewhat empty room. Besides the clash of swords, the only sound in the room was the shuffling of Luke and Bash's feet as they moved across the tile. Sebastian was thankful he could not focus on Mary directly, or he would lose his train of thought. Instead, as he danced around the room, sparring with Luke, he would catch a momentary glimpse of her dark hair, or see her lips pout in concentration. It seemed contradictory to him, since Mary was the reason for their current exercise, that he should seek her approval in his actions. In the end, he had been dealt this hand, not of his own will, and through the haze of sweat and clash of steel, he would damned if he did not make the best of it.
"This is exhausting to watch," Greer stated in Mary's ear, one hand fanning herself in the process. Mary's eyes widened in response, afraid to acknowledge the warmth that also crept from her neck to her cheeks. "Mary, are you all right? You look a bit flushed," Greer added.
Her hand rested against her throat, clutching the fabric gently as she watched the men. Their shirts had fallen open in the front, which gave Mary and her ladies an adequate glimpse of the men's chests, covered in sweat and heaving with labored breaths.
Luke stopped suddenly, speaking to Bash briefly before setting his sword on the tiles. In one quick move, he shed his tunic.
"Thank you, General, that is much better," Luke stated, swiveling to face the ladies, winking in Kenna's direction. Kenna made a small motion with her hand, her fingers waving flirtatiously. Mary had no doubt this was not the first time Kenna had seen Luke without his tunic. Her thoughts subconsciously drifted to Sebastian, wondering how his physical stature compared to Luke's.
"Stop it, Mary," she whispered under her breath, admonishing herself for letting her thoughts drift towards the Duke. She saw Greer glance at her questioningly, but refused to meet what Mary knew would be a pointed look. Focusing back on the center of the room, Mary heard Bash mutter quietly, setting his own sword down as well, his tunic joining Luke's with a careless toss.
Mary struggled to find her breath, her eyes roaming his bared chest. She barely noticed they had picked up their swords, beginning again their athletic dance. It was not until the men had rotated, Sebastian's back to Mary that she noticed. She watched his muscles ripple with the motion of his arm. She noticed how the moisture gathered at his neckline, trickling down the length of his spine.
Mary swallowed the rising tide within her, fighting the sudden tugging attraction. It was an inner struggle, battling the opposing viewpoints. One side acknowledging her growing attachment to Sebastian, and the other side admonishing her for feeling anything towards a man she was not going to wed.
Lola moved to stand by her side, as if sensing Mary's discomfort. Though if anyone looked at Mary, they could easily read her feelings. Her eyes were focused on Sebastian, moving around the room as he did. She winced with every hard blow, smiled when he avoided a strike, and gasped silently when his feet would slide haphazardly on the floor.
When Luke finally conceded, his energy spent, Mary released a breath she did not know she held. It was a sigh, really, her muscles relaxing from the tense way she held her body. She thought it was over, that Sebastian would need a rest, but Claude approached him, removing his tunic and sword.
"Shall we wrestle, General?" Claude's voice echoed, yet untouched by physical activity. Bash nodded, setting his sword aside.
Claude was a head taller than Bash, with shoulders wider than most men Mary had seen. This appeared to be an uneven match in her eyes, but only time would tell. They circled each other, just as Bash and Luke had previously, but instead of lunging with swords, they lunged with their flesh.
Mary closed her eyes, waiting for their display to be over. The sight of fists pounding relentlessly into the other's body was overwhelming, and Mary's feet retreated her body from the sight, stopping when her back bumped the stone wall. The men's grunts and groans pulsed with the motions of their blows, and Mary felt slightly sickened by the sound.
The sudden thud forced Mary's eyes open. Bash laid prone on the stone floor, breathing but unconscious. Luke walked over to Claude, patting him on the back.
"General will have your neck for that when he wakes up," he said laughing, and both men reached for their discarded tunics. Greer and Kenna were at their sides, fawning over them as they walked towards the door.
"Wait," Mary cried, eyes drifting between her party and Bash,"we cannot just leave him."
"Oh, he will come around shortly, and I do not want to be around to see his temper when he does," joked Claude, draping an arm around Greer.
"You all may go ahead, but I will wait and make sure he is all right," replied Mary, moving to sit beside Sebastian, still very unconscious. Lola turned back toward Mary, but Mary shook her head. "You go ahead, Lola, I will be all right."
What seemed like an eternity was more like an hour when Sebastian finally stirred, pushing himself off the floor with a arduous groan. Mary had only left his side briefly to retrieve a basin of water, knowing his bloodied nose would need mending.
Sebastian sat up slowly, wincing as he did. Mary remained silent, watching his movements, ready to help him if he needed a steadying hand. He turned his head, his eyes meeting hers for a moment, before his head slumped against his arm. He managed to stand, not looking back at Mary, and walked gingerly to the opposite side of the room, picking up a rag Mary had prepped and holding it to his nose. She watched as he rested his head against the cool stone wall, closing his eyes and sighing. Mary followed, standing by one of the columns that lined the edges of the room. It was hard to decipher if he wanted privacy, or if he wanted help, so Mary prayed it was the latter.
"That was quite a display," whispered Mary, appearing from the behind the column. Sebastian's muscles tensed, too preoccupied with stopping the blood flowing from his nose to notice her approach. He swiveled, clutching the cloth fiercely against his nose. Though unintentional, the hard blow Claude dealt left blood trailing down Sebastian's cheek, chin, and smeared across his chest. Mary's eyes followed the trail of blood, before rising to meet Bash's intense gaze.
"I never intended for you to see any of this," replied Bash harshly, removing the bloody rag to speak clearly. Though his nose had stopped bleeding, a bruise replaced it, coloring his cheekbone purple and blue.
"I am sorry if my presence distresses you," Mary bristled, raising her chin in defiance. The growing tension between the two was palpable, even if they were the only two to feel it.
"That is not what I meant, Mary," argued Bash, throwing the bloodied rag against the wall. "You could never distress me," he added softly, his eyes boring into hers. She sighed, reaching for another rag. Mary approached him, reaching a hand out to help wipe blood from his face. He abruptly stepped back, stiffening instinctively to her closeness. This is what he had been trying to avoid the past few days. His eyes scanned the room, noting unpleasantly that they were alone.
"Let me help you, Bash," Mary spoke sadly, seeing the rejection in his eyes. With his conscious warring between propriety and scandal, he gave in to his want to be close. He told himself it would only be for a moment, a fleeting memory for him to hold on to. He nodded, slumping his shoulders in resignation. Mary smiley genuinely in response, stepping forward and closing the space between them.
Her hand reached out, gently brushing the rag against his cheek. He felt the fabric caress his face, it's fibers passing along his chin and down his neck. The fabric trailed down his chest, the pressure from her hand warm against his skin, still flushed. She let the rag drop from her fingers, her palm pressing softly against his skin. His heart hammered embarrassingly, and he knew Mary must have felt it's pattering beneath her fingers. His hand reached up to grasp hers, holding it firmly against him.
"Why do you men feel the need to beat on each other so?" She asked, her voice laced with a husky quality that surprised her. She took a step forward, moving comfortably closer to Bash.
"Sometimes we just need to, Mary, it is difficult to explain," fumbled Bash, shrugging his shoulders. Her presence was intoxicating, especially in their current situation, and he was finding it difficult to think clearly.
"I do not like seeing you hurt." The words were whispered, but Sebastian heard them clearly. His mind was a jumbled mess, partly from Claude delivering such a harsh blow, and mostly from Mary standing in front of him, so close. He inwardly screamed in protest, all sense of propriety trying to banish itself as his body was winning the war over his common sense.
He did the only thing that seemed natural in that moment.
He kissed her.
Her lips were soft, sweet against his chapped ones. It was brief, the moment disappearing like a ghost. He pulled away slowly, memorizing the way she looked in that second, lips pouted, cheeks flushed and eyes closed. And then his sense of position gripped him, and he walked away. Too similar to the moment they shared in the library, vanishing in almost the blink of an eye.
He could not look back, knowing he had crossed a line he had promised himself he would not even approach. Though it hurt to walk away from her, he had to. Stopping in his tracks, he took a deep breath, clearing his lungs and his mind. He needed to find some excuse for them to start their journey back to court as soon as possible, before he ruined it all.
"Good Lord I am in trouble," he whispered to the darkened halls.
In response, all he could hear were the soft sobs from the room he had just fled.