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. History has been altered, so consider yourself warned. This is definitely AU!
From the moment his lips departed hers, Mary's heart never quit pounding. It reverberated through her chest, filling every pore of her being. It had been unexpected, but not unwelcome, the beautiful pressure of his mouth on hers. She could still feel the tough texture of his sun-loved skin against her lips, the roughened man beneath her fingertips. It had been frightening, the feelings coursing through her veins, and yet fantastic at the same time. And to think, the whole incident had occurred just three days prior.
Three long, miserable days.
It was rough to reconcile whether Sebastian had been disgusted by her actions, or upset with his own since he had abruptly left her in the large sparring room. She had not seen him since. Maybe it would be for the best, lest their emotional masks betray them to their companions. Or worse, they would betray themselves, and all they were working so hard to accomplish would crumble.
To deny her attraction to Bash was futile, and now that she had seen his feelings in return, her mind tumbled endlessly. Until less than a month ago, her future seemed crystal clear. She would wed the now King of France, uniting two countries and two monarchs. Now, she could not imagine looking forward, facing her new French court, without this daring General by her side.
"I must not do anything to dishonor my country," Mary whispered to an empty room.
It would not be dishonorable to love him, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind, just to act on it.
Mary had never thought it would be easy to fall in love, though the stories of love at first sight were plentiful. But she always thought they were just that, stories. Fantasies for little girls. And yet here she sat, alone in her room. She was afraid to confront the man who would escort her to her future husband, afraid she would throw herself into his arms.
"Mary?" Lola asked, peeking around the edge of the open door, her face etched with worry.
"Yes, Lola, please come in," beckoned Mary, grateful for the distraction from her traitorous thoughts.
"I have been asked to inquire if it would be acceptable to start our journey to French court tomorrow, as opposed to next Saturday?" Mary sighed in relief. This would be perfect for both her mind and her emotions.
"Yes, Lola, I think that would be most acceptable. Most of our belongings have been packed already," smiled Mary, praying this was a good sign. The sooner she could be in the French court, in the presence of her husband-to-be, the better.
"I will let the Duke know then," Lola acknowledged, watching Mary closely. Of all Mary's ladies, except maybe Aylee on occasion, she was the most perceptive. "Mary, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Lola," Mary replied slowly, sensing her friends hesitation. Lola glanced cautiously around the room before approaching her Queen, reaching for Mary's hand as only she could do in such times.
"What is wrong? Everyone has asked after you these past few days," Lola squeezed Mary's hand in encouragement.
"Oh Lola," paused Mary, wondering to what extent she should, or could, confide in her friend. She wanted nothing more than to share her emotional burden with someone she trusted, not to burden them, but to seek guidance. But then, the more who knew about her indiscretion with Sebastian the greater chance of her future husband finding out. If Francis found out her reputation had been tainted, and most importantly by who, then it could jeopardize everything they have worked so hard to rebuild.
Mary found her courage, praying her words were the best choice, "Lola, what lies before us will shape not only our future, but the future of France. I do not think I am fit to be Queen."
Her friend's brow rose at the admission, a questioning gaze on her face. "Mary, why on earth would you ever think you are not capable. You were born to be Queen, you are a Queen already."
"Yes, but I am so far away from my country," whispered Mary sadly. She barely remembered her native Scotland, and there were days when she wished her fate would be different. That she could be sitting on her rightful throne, ruling her country, instead of waiting to be Queen of a country in shambles.
"Scotland will always be with you, Mary, and you have us to always remind you of home. And you have already made friends with the King's general. Has he not assuaged any of these concerns? He seems so attentive."
"Of course he has," Mary replied hastily. There was a hint of admiration as Lola mentioned Sebastian that Mary did not like, but Mary kept her thoughts to herself.
"Of that I am glad," Lola smiled overzealously, fidgeting nervously with her fingers at the same time. Mary was unsure of this new attitude towards the Duke, but continued to let it be. "Will you be joining us downstairs for dinner?"
"No, thank you, I am rather tired and would like to rest."Lola curtseyed in acknowledgement, watching Mary closely as she left her chambers.
Mary settled back on her lounge chair, willing her thoughts of Lola's sudden possible interest in Bash, and her own situation in general, to slow.
She prayed for a moment's peace, and rest.
But rest never came.
It was as if a tempest roared endlessly within Mary. The raging tide of emotions carried her on an endless flow of waves. In less than a month, her world had gone from comfortably predictable to an infinite unknown. All her short life, she had known who she was, and what her duties to Scotland, and possibly France, would be. The Lord and Lady Carme had been open and honest with her, and she loved them for it.
It had been about two months ago when the Lord Carme had summoned Mary to his library. The practice was not unusual, but Mary had still sensed a change in the air. And then when the Lord Carme had bowed, a custom she had made him forego years ago, she knew for sure.
Her time had come.
Time to step into her duties. Her duty to be the next Queen of France, and marry the King.
Marry the King.
A man she did not know, though his deeds and manners were unprecedented. When Lord Carme handed her the note, written in the King's own hand, she sighed.
Mary had not known if you could tell much of the man by the way he wrote and expressed himself on paper. The flowing script intrigued her, and seeing her name written by the man she would call 'husband' sent a small flutter through her heart. She trembled, scared of the future that the small piece of paper embodied. Her trembling had lessened as she read the graceful words, realizing her moment had truly come. She sensed greatness in him, regality seeping from the penmanship.
"He is a good King, Your Grace," Lord Carme had spoken, understanding Mary's momentary unease, "and you will be a great Queen."
"You have raised me well, and I thank you for it," Mary had replied in earnest, knowing the time she spent in safety with the Carme's was more than she and her ladies could have imagined. They had been gracious hosts, especially as Mary had been a young girl when she first arrived, but she was also grateful to call them friend. She had reached for the Lord Carme's hand, holding it tightly in both thanks and honor.
Mary held her right hand, remembering the feeling of comfort that simple handshake with Lord Carme had given her, assurance that she was destined for greatness. And yet now she questioned everything.
She had sent Lola away quickly after dinner, having not rested earlier in the afternoon. She needed time to think before they left. Even though it was summer, the mountains chilly evening air gripped the castle and Mary tried to find comfort in the abundance of furs on her bed. But no luxuries afforded a Queen could keep her mind from drifting back two months, when her fate was sealed in summons from King Francis. And just as quickly, her mind floated back to the present, a very different face appearing in her thoughts. A very different vision of a man in her head. Even in her mind, she could still smell his musky sweat from fencing, sense his aloof presence, hiding just behind a door she could not open.
She would leave tomorrow. Leave the only safe home she had known in France. Leave the family she thought of as her own. Leave to become the Queen of France, wife of the King. She could not begin the journey without saying goodbye to him. She needed to apologize for her behavior, let him know she would not speak of it to the King.
The cold stone floor shocked Mary as her feet found their footing. She slid her feet into the lined slippers, enjoying the soft feel of the fabric. Her fingers brushed the blue silk robe draped on the end of her bed. It was not the most appropriate attire for her short journey, but she quickly dismissed the time and effort needed to lace a dress.
The moonlight from the windows cast shadows on the stone walls, but it gave Mary enough light to she her path. She would miss the stillness of her current home, with no guards in the halls and no torches lit. It gave her some semblance of a normal life, a common life.
But she was far from normal, and far from common.
A light shone from under the door at the end of the hall. She had only seen him enter it once, but remembered the location vividly. There were no voices from the other side, so Mary hoped he was truly alone. Her hand shook as she raised it, hoping her knocking would not wake other inhabitants.
She heard his footsteps approach the door, the large wooden edifice swinging open with a groan.
"Luke, please, I told you I did not …" the frustration in his voice was evident to Mary, and she gasped in response. He raised his head, his eyes widening at the realization that it was Mary at his door, and not Luke. He did not finish his sentence, instead he just stared at the woman in front of him, a sort of wonder shining from his eyes.
"Mary," he breathed, not a question in his tone, but more of an unmeasured longing. They way her name had fallen from his lips sent shivers through Mary.
They stared at each other for a few moments before Bash's fingers gently wrapped around her forearm and pulled her into his room. Her eyes watched him as he slowly closed the heavy door, the latch barely making a sound as it shut. Time seemed to slow down as the Duke swiveled to face Mary.
"Why are you here?" He whispered, his face remaining stoic as he spoke. Mary had been so determined to visit Bash, but now that she was here the words left her. "Mary, you really should not be here."
"I have missed you," the words escaped her lips before Mary realized her confession. She watched him close his eyes and sigh, "I thought you were unhappy with me. I did not want to start out our journey tomorrow without talking to you. There is much that needs to be resolved," Mary continued softly.
His head tilted questioningly at the young woman in front of him. He had never met someone so honest and truthful in his life. It was refreshing to just be in her presence. It was also intoxicating. Sebastian felt the pull towards her just as he did a few days previously. The need to wrap his arms around her and pull her close fought to possess him, and he felt his feet moving forward involuntarily. The skin of her cheek caressed the palm of his hand, but he did not even realize he had reached for her.
"I am sorry I have avoided you. I was afraid I had displeased you. I have, have I not?" She whispered, her mind chastising herself for the direction the conversation was heading.
"Of course not," he sighed, "if I have any displeasure, it is at myself. I took advantage of you, and for that I hope you will forgive me. Your good opinion means more to me than most."
"There is nothing to forgive, and no advantage was taken, I assure you," Mary responded with a bit more force than she intended, her emotional struggle winning over her choice of words, "and my opinion of you remains unchanged…"
"But this cannot continue," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek.
"I realize that," Mary interrupted, her voice trembling, "but I cannot forget it either. "
"Oh Mary," Bash hummed, closing the distance between. He leaned his forehead against hers, enjoying being in her presence again. He realized putting the distance between them the past few days was not the answer. Closing his eyes, Bash struggled to find his breath, "there are many things I want to say to you, but now is not the time. Just know, when we return to court, you will always have a loyal servant in me," he paused, opening his eyes, "and there I go again, bringing tears to your lovely face."
"It is not fair, Bash. I have been raised all my life to be both Queen and wife, and I have never questioned my duty. Never," she cried in earnest, the tears feeling hot against her already flushed cheeks, "and then I met you, and I have questioned everything since. Promise me I will never lose your friendship and guidance?"
Sebastian had promised himself three days ago that he would never kiss Mary again, not for lack of wanting to, but for sake of his own sanity, and both their lives. But as he pulled her into his arms, whispering gently in her ear, he decided that was one promise he needed to break.
It did not matter that her lips were salty, stained from her tears. It did not matter that in a few hours, they were leaving for the French court. It did not matter that she was destined to marry his brother. Nothing mattered at all, except the two of them in that moment.
It was not overly passionate, or horribly chaste, but the kiss was full of longing, and an unspoken promise. They would stand by each other in all things, and be each other's confidants. But they knew the line would have to be drawn there.
It was over too soon, their brief respite from the real world, and Mary nearly gasped at the loss of contact as he broke their kiss. Silently, she wondered what she might have done wrong to be denied this man, knowing a love and not being able to return it.
"Best you get some rest, Your Grace," said Bash, reverting back to a more formal tone, "we have an early morning and a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."
Mary sighed, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill again. "You too, Bash. And please know you are very dear to me, and will always be. I could not imagine a better man, or friend, guiding me along this journey."
"I will be your guide as long as you need me," Bash stated genuinely, bowing slightly. Mary chuckled through her tears, wishing him a good night.
He watched her as she walked down the corridor. Just like the feeling that washed over him the first day he met her in the meadow, he knew he was destined to be by her side, in whatever way he could. He had a week to settle his emotions, lest Francis know the minute he saw him. A week to learn indifference without it seeming rude.
She was long absent from the corridor when he finally shut the door, laying himself down on the bed before their journey started. Much like the empty corridor, he would walk down the way alone, his only company being the love he held in his heart.
But never in his hand. And with that, he got no rest.
End Note: Thanks for reading! If you leave a review, you'll get a snippet from the next chapter!