The setting sun painted the land in various shades of red, deepening in color as the light faded on the horizon. Standing out amongst the vibrant colors, the gray castle stood tall, casting a darkening shadow on the landscape. As their small traveling party inched closer to the Chateau, Mary could see the unfinished portions with more clarity. Still, it was a sight to behold, an architectural work of art. Her heart swelled with pride, knowing Sebastian had overseen much of the building, that the beauty she beheld was his plan, in conjunction with the King. This was his vision coming to fruition.
They were moving slower now, a change in elevation altering their pace. Mary kept the curtain drawn aside, wanting to experience the approach to her new home. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt a little nauseous, knowing her future was quickly becoming her present. Part of her was eager to get to the Chateau, wishing the envoy could hasten their trip. The other part of her wanted to freeze in the moment, partly afraid to meet her new husband and King, and partly not wanting to relinquish her hold on Sebastian. She knew she would have to give him up, their future depended on it. But when she closed her eyes, her mind stubbornly drifted back to that misty night, how the tree pressed harshly against her back, and he pressed so gently against her. His hands had been gentle on her face and his lips had been wild on hers. It had been a final acknowledgement of their fate.
And now that fate was upon them. Mary's ladies chatted animatedly amongst themselves, nervous energy running rampant through the carriage. Though her eyes were on the horizon, Mary's fingers fidgeted with the lace trimmings on her dress, a bad habit she had picked up from Kenna. The carriage abruptly jolted to a stop, startling the apprehensive group. Glancing over at her ladies, Mary noted their faces were shocked, but not overly concerned. She could hear the clattering of horse's hooves, and diverted her attention back to the window. Sebastian came trotting up to their position, pulling the reins of another horse behind him.
"Why have we stopped? Is anything wrong," Mary rushed, her anxiety coming through in her voice. Sebastian flashed a smile, the same smile that had won her over more than a month ago.
"Nothing is wrong, Your Grace. We are but a short distance from the Chateau," Bash paused, looking back towards the other horse behind him. Mary felt the carriage rock slightly, and peered ahead enough to see Luke joining Claude at the head of the carriage.
Sebastian continued, "I thought you might to ride into your new home, be seen openly by your people and your King."
There was a hint of suppressed sadness in his voice that made Mary's heart ache. She smiled at him, acknowledging not only his thoughtfulness, but also how well he truly knew her. She wanted nothing more than to ride at the head of their party, hopefully with Sebastian close by, and be seen by those who were at court.
"Thank you, yes," Mary accepted, moving towards the carriage door.
"But Mary, you are a mess!" scolded Lola, moving to intercept her Queen.
"My appearance should not matter. They know we have been traveling a great distance," Mary replied curtly, her anger flaring temporarily at her friend. Lola scowled, but made no move to prevent her from leaving the carriage.
The door of the carriage swung open, and Sebastian extended his hand. Mary had missed him dismounting his horse to help her, but was grateful he had. His hand was gloved, encased in worn leather, but it was warm, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"It is only a half hour's ride to the front gate," he mentioned as he helped her mount Luke's horse, his hands lightly gripping her waist, "and the King will be awaiting our arrival."
"He will?" Mary stated, though it sounded more like a surprised question. It should not have surprised her, she realized, but it did nonetheless.
"We ran in to one of my scouts earlier, and I sent him ahead to alert the castle. We keep a few men on the outskirts of the Chateau for just this reason," he explained honestly.
"Or in case there is something more nefarious?" questioned Mary, the fact the country had so recently been freed from the grips of war not lost to her. He laughed.
"That would be top priority, yes."
She would miss this ease of conversation and openness between them. They would still be friends in a half hour, but this casualness would be gone, replaced by polite but friendly civility. He seemed to read her thoughts, as he sighed and moved towards his horse. He gracefully mounted, glancing Mary's direction.
"Shall we, Your Grace?"
"Must we?" whispered Mary, her words heard only by Sebastian. He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes full of love but his face pained. He nodded, his mouth unable to move to speak the affirmation.
"Then I am ready," stated Mary with as much confidence as she could muster.
Their horses cantered easily toward the Chateau, and Mary could see the flags atop the completed turrets. They came to the outer gate, the wood and iron opening as they approached.
"Welcome home, General, Your Grace," the men yelled from atop the gate. A massive stone wall stretched on in each direction from the gate, creating an atmosphere of fortification for the heart of the French government. Sebastian smiled and waved to the guards, and Mary could sense relief from him to be home.
Mary's eyes followed the well-worn path to the front of her new home. A flight of concrete stairs led to the entrance, where a small gathering stood at attention. Front and center, Mary could see a young man. His light hair was easily visible, but as the sunlight slipped beneath the top of the trees, the last rays from the daylight glistened off the golden circlet nestled on his head. Immediately, Mary realized this was the King, her future husband, and she gasped.
"Yes, that is Francis," Sebastian whispered, though there was no need for quiet at the moment. Mary nodded, her eyes not moving from the King.
He was splendid is his regal attire, even Bash had to admit that fact, his handsome face glowed from beneath his simple crown. Mary was awestruck, having to refrain from openly gawking like a peasant. Their horses continued down the path, and with every step, Mary's heart beat faster and her breaths quickened. Suddenly, Mary felt very self-conscious of her own travel-worn attire, brushing her hands against the folds of her dress, and wondered if she should have listened to Lola, instead of scolding her.
"You are perfect as you are," she heard Bash mutter from beside her, and she turned to meet his downcast eyes. Her smile was brief, but she tried to convey all the emotions swirling within her. 'Thank you,' she mouthed, and he gave sad smile.
They reached the foot of the stairs when Bash halted the horses. He dismounted, moving to help Mary do the same. He kept his eyes from her face, and his hands light on her body as he gracefully came to the ground. Offering his arm as customary, he felt Mary's tight grip immediately. Her hand shook, and he wished nothing more than to hold her in his arms to calm her fears.
Ascending the stairs, Mary watched the King's face come closer. They stopped on the front landing, and she felt his powerful gaze on her. As if he was miles away, she heard Sebastian speak.
"My King, may I humbly present her majesty, Mary, Queen of Scotland," intoned Bash, his voice suddenly rich and regal on it's own. Her eyes found Francis, and he bowed.
"Queen Mary, you are most welcome," he paused, extending a hand to Mary, "we are most excited for your arrival. There will be a great feast in your honor this evening."
Mary prayed that words would come easily for her, and they did, "I am honored, Your Grace. I am pleased to be here."
Sebastian watched as she took his brother's hand, and they turned toward the main entrance. He watched her walk away from him. And in that moment, he had never been more jealous of his brother in his life.
The fire crackled in the King's sitting room. It was a warm night for summer, but Francis wanted the fire to continue. He sat quietly, meditating on the arrival of Mary, his soon to be wife and Queen. She was a beauty, to be sure, and her voice was pleasant to his ear. He had been surprised when the scout arrived, announcing the imminent arrival of his brother and the Queen of Scotland. They were several days early by his estimation, so he hoped nothing had been wrong, but the party seemed in happy spirits when they arrived.
Mary and her ladies had retired already for the evening, having the opportunity to get accustomed to their new home, but he had not had the opportunity to talk with his brother yet. Sebastian had seemed different when he returned, and Francis had an uneasy feeling every since he set foot back in the Chateau.
There was a soft knock on the sitting room door, and Sebastian stepped quickly into the room. He walked around to his brother's chair, bowing his head in greeting.
"Oh, none of that nonsense, brother. It is just us at the moment," grinned Francis, gesturing to the seat beside him. "How was the journey?"
"Quite pleasant, actually. We met no hindrance on the way there, or the way back. Having not been south in awhile, I was not sure what we might find," acknowledged Bash, his body relaxing comfortably into the cushioned chair.
"And Mary? What do you think of her?" questioned Francis, a seriousness coming across his features. Sebastian glanced at his brother, not able to keep a smile from stretching across his face.
"She is wonderful. She is everything France needs in a Queen," Bash paused, his face alight in emotion, "she is full of grace, and humility, and has some wonderful ideas for the court," Sebastian gushed honestly. Francis kept his gaze on his brother, watching with interest how his animation in talking about Mary.
"Well, she has won your heart, that much is obvious," Francis chuckled; both amused and slightly put off by his brother. As he watched his brother, he was not sure what bothered him more, his brother's obvious admiration for Mary, or the way, just hours before, he saw Mary gaze at Bash during the welcome feast.
"How has the restoration been in my absence?" asked Bash, noticeably changing the subject as he cleared his throat. He was not one for blushing, but knew the fire was not the cause of the heat in his cheeks.
"Very well, actually. The rooms for Mary and her ladies were completed, as you saw earlier. We will let them do the decorating at a later date. As for this room," Francis paused, looking at the bordered up windows, "it still needs some work."
"All in due time, brother. I was most concerned that Mary and her ladies have a roof over their heads, but I will make these windows the next priority," he smiled carelessly. He was pleased with all that had been accomplished while he was away.
"Did you bed her?" mused Francis quietly. Sebastian stiffened, unequivocally unprepared for the question.
"Who are we talking about?" the reply held little weight in the thickening atmosphere of the sitting room. Francis rolled his eyes in response.
"Did you bed my future wife?" The words were not whispered this time, instead they were more guttural, emanating from between clenched teeth.
"Why the sudden accusation?" Sebastian stood, hurt by his brother's lack of trust in him, but further hurt by knowing his words had almost hit the target. They may not have slept together, but Bash's thoughts were not so pure.
Francis stood too, coming face to face with his brother. He stared at Bash, looking for any sign of betrayal or fear. Bash met his gaze unwaveringly, and Francis sensed he had truly hurt his brother with the accusation.
"I am sorry, brother," he replied carefully.
"Why did you accuse me of such a thing? You told me there was no one you trusted more with the task of bringing Mary to court and yet not even hours after we are back you are accusing me of treason!" Bash's voice rose on the defensive. Francis sighed, plopping back into his chair.
"Sit, brother," commanded Francis, and Bash did just that. "I am sorry. I never meant to accuse you of anything," he paused, glancing up at Sebastian, "honestly, it has been difficult with you away this month. And after Nostradamus had a vision …"
"That bloody soothsayer again? Why are you still trusting him, Francis?" grumbled Sebastian, annoyed.
"I know your feelings towards him, but I trust him. He has not failed me yet," whispered Francis, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration.
"Dare I ask what the vision was this time?" mocked Sebastian, his annoyance with the old wizard evident.
"He told me Mary would rule powerfully by my side, and that together we would rule a greater France than we had ever known," Francis paused, painfully remembering the vague words Nostradamus had whispered next, "but that darkness would return, and blood, yours and Mary's, would be spilled. He saw a cavernous divide, with me on one side, and you on the other. He said Mary could not decide which side to stand on, and in an attempt to cross the darkness, it consumed her."
A strange sensation rippled through Bash at the words. Could he have foreseen that Mary would be a divide between him and Francis? No, the old man's words never fully came true, even though Francis would claim they did.
"It sounds like an intriguing children's story, Francis, would it seems you have read too much into his fantasies," sighed Bash. Francis started to protest, but halted.
"Maybe you are right, brother. I just … I do not want to mess things up."
"Well then do not let him get in your head," replied Sebastian, reaching over to grip his brother's knee, "you are a great King, and Mary will be a great Queen. I must say, I agree with the wizard on one thing,"
"Quit calling him that," admonished Francis.
"Fine, I agree with the crazy old man," continued Bash and Francis sighed, chuckling along the way, "you and Mary, together, will rule a great France."
Francis reached out to grasp his brother's hand, still on his knee, and pulled him close in an embrace. "Forgive me for accusing you of such an atrocity?" Francis asked, holding his only living brother close.
"Always, or at least until next time you decide to accuse me of treason," there was a lightness in his voice, and the brother's laughed together.
Bash took his leave of his brother and King for the evening. As he left the room, a sense of relief flowed through him. He would need to mask his emotions when he was around Mary. He inwardly cried, knowing the task would be difficult. He would have to tell Mary soon, let her know Francis had a keen sense of observation, and whispers in his ear from Nostradamus.
He reached his chamber; happy to see his workers had finally installed a door in his absence. He walked in, undoing his belt and tossing it on the table. After his long journey and his constant emotional upheaval, he wanted nothing more than a quiet rest. His shirt casually joined his belt, and his fingers moved to the laces of his trousers.
"Oh, do you sleep naked then?"
His fingers stilled at the female voice and he turned quickly towards his bed.
"Lola?"
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!