For Country and Blood

by Khaleesis-Fire

As a member of Queen Catherine de Medici's Flying Squad, the last thing that Andrea la Tremoille should have done was fall in love with the King's bastard. And yet, she couldn't help herself. With her heart and life on the line, navigating French court with her head in tact is easier said that done, but one must do whatever they can for country and blood. (Loosely follows the show)

5. Chapter 5: Hearts and Minds

Chapter 5: Hearts and Minds

His head felt especially heavy. Like it was made of lead instead of bone and flesh and he let a soft groan pass from his lips as a wave of pain attacked his body. For a moment, he wasn't particularly sure where he was. Not his room, surely, as his was tailored to his comfort and the furs he had were of his own hunts. The last thing he remembered was riding off into the night after bidding goodbye to his brother and Andrea. And then…

He remembered then as the stabbing pain in his chest grew. The English had ambushed them, decimating the French forces before one of their soldiers had managed to pierce a sword through him. He had barely escaped with his life and through all of the pain and struggle, he couldn't help but think of how angry Francis and Andrea would be with him for not being more careful.

"He's waking up!" A pleasantly familiar voice said above him. The smile was clear in her voice as well as the joy and relief she surely felt. He had barely managed to peel his eyes open to catch the glimpse of red hair before Nostradamus' analytical gaze.

"Sebastian." Nostradamus said, his voice tired and far more gruff than usual. Typically how he sounded after spending a night caring for a patient. "Sebastian do you hear me?"

He managed to nod his head, his throat feeling particularly dry as he swallowed. "Water, I need water."

"Right here." A soft voice suddenly said. He felt the cool press of a goblet at his lips and gladly welcomed the water that trickled down his throat and alleviated his thirst. His gaze followed the hand and arm that held the goblet before they arrived at the lovely face of the girl who held most of his affections. She looked so unlike herself, more like the young girl she once was without a care in the world. Her wavy red hair was braided to the side and away from her face and not a stitch of makeup had reached her skin. Her dress was plain, but still pretty and flattering on her. He could swear he felt his heart flutter, but he excused it for the way that his body racked with pain.

"Andrea…" he breathed. "Where am I?"

She set the goblet of water to the side and gave him a small smile. "You're in Nostradamus' wing. You were attacked, do you remember?"

He nodded, wincing at a particularly sharp feeling near his wound. "Yes, I remember." He looked back to her and frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"She has been helping me." Nostradamus said, coming to sit with them again with a series of herbs and vials. "Your wound is closing, but you required constant care. Andrea offered her services."

"Lucky for you, the Queen allowed some time to myself today." Andrea told him, reaching up to press a wet cloth to his forehead. Sebastian sighed in relief at the feeling and let his eyes flutter close. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone pierced a sword through my chest." He murmured. "Not the worst feeling there is."

She frowned at him. "Sebastian, that's not funny."

He managed a smirk for only a moment before a cough ravaged his body. It was rough and ugly, only calmed when Nostradamus tipped back his head and poured the contents of a vial down his throat. Within seconds, his coughs calmed and his body seemed more at ease, his pain a little less than before.

"That should keep you relaxed for awhile." Nostradamus said. He turned his gaze to Andrea. "I'm going to make more poultice for his wound. Keep his fever down. If it doesn't break by the night-"

"Yes, yes, I know." Andrea said quickly, peeling the wet cloth from his head and dipping it into a bucket of quickly melting ice. "Go. I'll take care of it."

Sebastian watched Nostradamus nod and go off to complete his task. He dragged his gaze back to the worried Andrea, taking in her attentiveness and the way she seemed particularly dedicated to her task. "I suppose I know what's going to happen should my fever not break."

"Nothing's going to happen." Andrea told him, shaking her head as she replaced the wet cloth on his forehead, letting her fingers trickle down his skin for a moment. Sebastian didn't realize how much he loved the feeling before her fingers were gone. "You'll be fine. You just need to rest and get better."

"Hm." He hummed lightly, keeping his eyes on her. "Perhaps the proper remedy is the care of a beautiful woman." He caught the flicker of a blush on her cheeks and chuckled lowly. "And the loveliest frown I have ever seen."

She shook her head at him, feeling her heartbeat a little harder in her chest than usual. "You're delirious."

"Then I prefer delieria over reality if it means having you this close again."

Andrea glanced at Nostradamus, who was focused on his work. Or, at least being gracious enough to pretend he didn't hear their conversation. "...I do believe I told you to come back in one piece."

"You said to come back." He shot back. "I believe I did."

"You scared me half to death."

"I know." His expression softened and he pursed his lips. "I'm sorry."

She sighed, reaching forward to take his hand in her own. "Don't be. It's not your fault. Truly. I was simply worried." She let their fingers lace together in a familiar dance, and they both found a bit of relief in the contact. "Francis should be back soon, he's been here a few times. We sent word to your mother as well. She'll be returning from Paris as soon as she can." Her other hand rose to his forehead and she frowned at how warm his skin was.

"Pardon me while I hold my breath." Sebastian muttered. "I suppose I'll apologize to Francis as well." He then her a small sniffle and raised his eyes to see tears rolling down Andrea's cheeks. His brows knitted together at the sight, pain tugging at his heart. "Andrea…"

"I'm sorry." She quickly wiped her tears away. "I just… I'm sorry."

"Shh…" he hushed lowly, tightening his hold on her hand. "It breaks my heart when you do that."

"I know." She sniffed. "I thought that I wouldn't see you again."

Sebastian scoffed lightly, trying to seem nonchalant in the face of such sudden burst of emotion within her and himself. "Did you truly? Do you know how stubborn I am?"

"Almost more than I am." She chuckled along tearfully, a small hiccup escaping her lips. "I just… The thought of you not being here… never being able to talk to you or ride with you or become perpetually frustrated with your antics. It hurt."

"Andrea…" he breathed, feeling the weight of her confession heavily.

She shook her head. "I know that we can't…" she trailed off, the words lost on her lips, but he knew what she meant. It didn't need to be said. "I am still quite fond of you as a person, if I haven't told you lately."

Sebastian smiled slightly. "And I you."

"I was afraid of losing you." She told him honestly reaching forward again to rest her hand on his warm cheek. "I still am." She gave him a small scowl. "And for the love of God, you don't listen . One request, Sebastian! Come back in one piece! Do words go in one ear and come out the other?"

"That would certainly explain a lot." Bash grinned at her. "I'm not going anywhere. At least not today and not if I can help it."

Andrea nodded just as Nostradamus traveled back to them. The healer nodded to her as he set up his things beside Bash's temporary bed. "I have to change his bandages and apply the poultice. Perhaps you should rest for a time."

Andrea began moving away and Sebastian felt a brief rush of panic. "You're leaving?"

She smiled at him and touched his hand comfortingly. "Only for awhile, I have to rest and change out of these clothes. Then report to Catherine." She gestured to Nostradamus. "You'll be well taken care of, don't worry. And I left my book of Norse mythology for you to read." Sebastian looked over at the thick book he had bought for her months ago. It was well worn from use now, obviously having been read many times.

"And you must rest yourself, focus on breaking your fever." Nostradamus said, earning a scornful look from the younger man.

Andrea gave him one last smile before leaving the two men to their devices. Sebastian sighed and turned his gaze to the ceiling, trying to ignore the emptiness that he felt without her by his side. He barely noticed Nostradamus' chuckle until he felt the man lift his shirt to change his bandages.

"She's always been a spark of a girl, hasn't she?" He uttered.

Sebastian glanced at him for a moment. "A flame, I'd say."

Nostradamus hummed in agreement. "...It's easy to see how some men could fall in love with her." At Sebastian's withering glare, the seer simply shrugged. "Just an observation."

"Let it stay an observation then." Sebastian weakly snapped, a heavy sigh leaning his chest. "Just… make me well."

Nostradamus shook his head and dropped the subject as he began to work on the man's wound, a knowing smile on his face.

~For Country and Blood~

"What have you gathered about our spy at court?" Catherine said as she walked down the busy hall, nodding and dismissing choices presented to her for the Michaelmas ball. Andrea followed behind her dutifully, her hands folded before her gently

"I've sent out a line for information." Andrea told her. "Servant gossip wasn't enough, so I began digging further, making empty promises and inquiries to some of the Englishmen at court."

"Good girl." Catherine commended. "And what have you found."

Andrea stopped as the Queen did and stepped closer so that only she would hear her words. "One of the Englishmen told me of a prostitute in the villages that claims she saw the man who sent word for the ambush."

Catherine looked at her in shock. "You're certain?"

Andrea nodded determinedly. "Very. I checked my source again, the girl knows something. We simply need to hear her in person." She slipped a piece of paper from a slit in her dress and pressed it into Catherine's hand. "Her name is Judith. Blonde, quite pretty I'm told."

Catherine gestured one of her guards to her side and whispered to him before passing the paper to him. He nodded and set off on his task. Catherine smirked at her. "Good work. Not even our own guards were as quick as you." Andrea smiled at the praise and bowed her head in thanks. Catherine raised a brow at her curiously. "You've taken a particular interest in this. Is it because of Sebastian?"

Andrea's smile slipped from her face and she let her eyes slide down to the floor. It was how it always was whenever Catherine brought up Sebastian to her. "...Partly, yes." She sighed and lifted her gaze again. "And also partly because I'm quite sick of the English and their reach."

"As am I." Catherine agreed as they continued their walk. "I was not Queen when your family lost their name, but I heard the stories." Andrea was curious as to where she was taking the conversation and waited with baited breath. "Henry VII feared that your family's influence would grow too great. To secure his throne, he divided nobility, undermining their power and your great uncle was among those to be ousted and disgraced." Catherine brought a hand to her chest. "And then your poor aunt. Ruined by Catherine of Aragon. I can imagine why you would want your vengeance."

Andrea blinked at her, feeling a bit irritated with the Queen's nonchalant tone. "You make it sound so petty."

"Petty?" Catherine scoffed. "Not at all. In fact, I understand your position."

The younger girl frowned. "You do?"

"Of course." Catherine gestured to herself. "I am a Medici. We fall and rise, and always higher than before. We were exiled from Florence once, did you know?"

Andrea shook her head. "I'm not sure I remembered that from my lessons in history."

Catherine waved her off. "I suppose not, it was a rather bleak part of Italy's tumultuous past. A friar, a radical and incredible fool of a man, sought to cleanse Florence of vanity, pride and lavish possessions. He cast out the artists that dined at my family's table, poets and those alike. He believed, and made others believe as well, that he alone heard the words of God. He ousted my family for a time and attempted to make Florence the new center of Catholic faith."

Andrea gawked at the information and stared at Catherine wide eyed. "What happened to him?"

"The Borgia Pope brought him to heel." Catherine shrugged lightly. "The friar was put to death and the Medicis returned to where they belonged. We spent the next decades rising in station, becoming Dukes and Popes, King's and Queen's. Not even a bit of resistance could stop our prideful family."

Andrea thought on her words for a moment. "Are you saying this to assure me a bit of hope?"

"I'm saying this to sympathize." Catherine said. "I don't know what will happen to your family, but your willingness to do something about it resonates with me. The English don't simply need to answer to what they did to France, but for what they did to others as well." Catherine smirked at her knowingly. "I too am tired of England's insatiable appetite. It's about time we tried to quell that hunger, yes?"

Andrea smiled at her. She couldn't agree with her queen more.

~For Country and Blood~

"Who designed the target?"

Catherine shrugged and shook her head, enjoying the festivities too much to be bothered with whatever trivial matter Nostradamus wished to speak of. "Oh, who knows? They say it looks like the castle ghost- the girl they blame for every servant that runs off or goes missing."

Andrea, sitting dutifully beside the queen and her makeshift throne, smiled brightly as she cheered for her friend. The archery games were always her favorite event, mainly because she was awful at archery and preferred providing her full support to Sebastian and Francis whenever they competed. It was a fun thrill, cheering along with the crowd and weighing the odds, soldier against soldier, and in this case, prince against bastard.

"I heard that the Portuguese prince is set to become legitimized." Charlotte said from beside her. At Andrea's imploring gaze, she shrugged her shoulders. "I slept with a bishop who delivered the news. He seemed quite eager to impress me with information he had gotten especially from the Pope. Poor fool."

Andrea frowned and turned her eyes to the prince in question. "How on Earth did he manage that?" She wondered aloud. "The Portuguese line of succession was all but set in stone."

"You know as well as I do that King's don't particularly care for rules that don't benefit them." Charlotte admonished. "His father wants him on the throne. The only person they have to convince is the pope himself."

"How lovely for them." Andrea muttered, clapping politely as Tomas took a shot.

His arrow hit the head of the target dead center and he looked particularly proud of himself as he turned to crowd. Everyone stared at each other silently and Tomas looked to Francis with confusion.

Francis sighed. "Nice shot, Tomas, but the object is to hit the heart."

Tomas tilted his head. "Is it?" He pulled another arrow out and set it to his bow.

Andrea frowned at the audacity that he had to take another shot. This time, Tomas hit the heart of the target dead center with a deadly precision that showed his prowess as a hunter. He smiled proudly again before noticing the tension of the crowd. He turned to Francis with a raised brow, as if he hadn't just unashamedly gloated about his archery skills. "Did I take too many shots?"

Francis sighed. "Technically, yes." He smiled politely at the man, tight lipped and obviously annoyed with his antics. "Shall I take another shot too?"

He hated having to play nice with the man, but the eyes of court were upon them. Francis let his gaze find Mary and for a moment he felt a tug of longing and love flood through him.

"Take as many shots as you like." Tomas hissed to him then under his breath. "You will still lose."

Francis had to hold his tongue and keep his face neutral and the task was enough to make him clench his jaw in effort. He drew his bow and glared at his target. He imagined the ugly and decrepit thing had a thick accent and dark hair and an arrogant smirk that he wanted nothing more than to put an arrow through. Before he could even think on what that anger could lead to, he fired his shot directly into the target's heart, earning applause from all spectators.

"The round goes to Prince Francis. Second round, new target."

Tomas had the graciousness to seem impressed with his shot, but Francis could see what others could not. An underlying rage at being beaten by him. A determination that Francis sometimes saw on Bash's face. Bash, who always fought for what he wanted and took it by force if need be. The similarities between Tomas and his brother ended there, but it still unnerved Francis like never before.

He stood off to sidelines, adjusting the string of his bow, stewing in his own anger and agitations. As the servants set to preparing a new target, Francis caught sight of a person approaching that made him feel just a bit better. Andrea smiled at him and walked straight past Tomas, whose eyes seemed glued to her. Andrea didn't seem to notice but Francis certainly did. The way that he looked at her made Francis' stomach turn.

"Good show, Dauphin!" Andrea congratulated with a bright smile. She frowned at the sour look on his face and tilted her head at him. "Francis? Are you alright?"

Francis watched Tomas as he roughly grabbed a pouch of water from his rather shaken servant, Miguel. The blonde prince sighed through gritted teeth and shook his head. "That man irritates me."

Andrea followed his gaze over to the bastard prince and let out a soft, "ah" in realization. "Because he's marrying Mary?" Francis let out a small grumble of a response. "Surely you can't despise him that much?"

"There's something off about him." Francis practically hissed. "The last few days, he's done everything he can to get in my way and remind me that Mary is now his. He's bolder, more threatened and a giant pain in my-"

"Francis." Andrea warned in a low tone, trying to remind him of his place. "Behind closed doors, you can seethe as you like, but here you must remain the smiling Prince that everyone loves."

Francis sighed and cast his eyes to the sky in exasperation. "I know, I know." He shook his head again. "I just can't help but feel that the way he acts may be a reflection of his actions towards Mary and I feel guilty. I pushed her to marry him and now I'm hearing these rumors-"

"And you fear that Tomas may hurt Mary." Andrea finished for him, giving her friend a small, sympathetic smile. "I understand. Mary is a good person. She doesn't deserve anything less than that in a husband."

"Exactly." Francis said, taking a tentative step towards her. He glanced at Tomas for a moment before turning his gaze right back to Andrea. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything." Andrea said without hesitation.

Francis smiled at her loyalty and leaned down so that he was almost whispering in her ear. "You often get information for my mother. You're discreet and incredibly efficient, she always says so. In any other situation, I'd never ask this of you…"

Andrea's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You want me to spy on Tomas?"

"Not as a flying lady, certainly." Francis said quickly, disgusted by the idea of making her do that. "I don't want you going that far. But I need to know whether or not he is sincere and that Mary will be alright in his care." He took her hands in his. "If you can't, I understand, I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with-"

Andrea gave him a small smile and shook her head. "Francis, stop." The prince quieted his words and stared at her in hesitance. "I will gather what information I can about him and report back to you. Don't worry."

Francis grinned at her and brought their joined hands to his lips. "You're too good to me."

"Entirely so." Andrea replied haughtily, disentangling their hands. "Will you see Sebastian later?"

Francis nodded. "Of course."

"I'll give you the information then." She told him. "Just try to aim your arrows at the target and not the Portuguese."

Francis gave her a mock glare as she laughed and made to return to her seat. As she crossed back to the stands, she caught the very distinct look that she received from the Portuguese prince. He stood beside his servant, Miguel, and there was something… dark about the expression on his face. It made her stomach do a brief flip of worry before she quickly shook it off and continued towards her seat with the rest of Catherine's ladies.

Maybe Francis had been right in his worries.

~For Country and Blood~

Lola walked into Nostradamus' ward, a serious and worried expression upon her pretty face. She took in the bleak and familiar scene that waited there, Bash sick on the bed and Nostradamus tending to his wounds. For a moment, she was brought back to her older brother as he laid in the same fashion. Sweating from fever and on the brink of death. And then her dear younger brother…

She shook her head and crossed to the bed. "Queen Mary is eager to know how Bash is."

Nostradamus looked back at her and spoke on a soft, tentative tone. "The wound is closing, but the disease in his blood is spreading. If the fever doesn't break by tonight…"

A chill ran up Lola's spine, not needing for Nostradamus to finish his sentence. "He could die? So soon?"

Bash let out a low rumble of a chuckle, as if he weren't lying on his would be death bed. "You're scaring the poor girl, Nostradamus. Where's your chivalry?"

Lola almost smiled at that. Even though he was wounded and surely on pain, he still managed to make a joke. "Bash, how are you feeling?" She asked him worriedly.

Bash cast his eyes to the ceiling. "Close to death, apparently… which feels, more or less, like it sounds."

Nostradamus gave him a disapproving look. "You need rest, Sebastian."

Sebastian gave him a curt look. "What I need is water." Nostradamus, annoyed with his temperamental patient, went to fetch him the water as requested. Sebastian looked at Lola and took her in. Out of all of Mary's ladies, he supposed he liked her the most. Kenna was wild and fun, but also enraptured by his father. The awkward conversations happened a little too often for his liking. Greer and Aylee typically stayed to themselves with Aylee being too shy and Greer too focused on finding a titled and wealthy husband. Even he wasn't impervious from hearing rumors about them. "And perhaps more of that lovely frown."

Lola gave him a smile, a gentle one that set him at ease. "I think I can manage that." To his surprise, she took the goblet from Nostradamus' hands and set to giving him water herself.

He looked at her over the brim of the goblet as he drank his share and sighed once he was done. "So, will you run back and tell Mary the news like her other ladies… or will you stay and stare death in the face?"

Lola almost laughed at his dramatism, but a softness reached her face then, one that looked as if she were remembering a sad memory. "I nursed two brothers into the grave. And I've known other losses too." She tried to suppress the wince she felt, knowing that he was well aware of who she spoke of. "I'm not afraid of death anymore. I'm afraid of being alone."

"Is there a difference?" Bash said almost immediately, feeling incredibly alone at this moment at death's door even though he was surrounded by people.

"Of course." Lola insisted. "When we die, we're in God's graces. But in life… being alone can often be crippling."

Sebastian let his eyes flitter over her face curiously. "Are you lonely then, Lady Lola?"

She pursed her lips for a moment, trying to form the words in her mind. "I wasn't, at first. But then I realize that my family is back home. My countrymen and many of my friends. Queen Mary and the girls are amazing and genuine but… the reality is that I'm a Scottish girl too far from home."

"And what brought about that reality?"

She sighed. "... Colin." She said honestly, earning a surprised look from the wounded man. "I miss the boy that he was in Scotland. I miss our memories. But then I remember what he did to Mary and I feel ashamed for how I yelled at her for such a thing."

Sebastian gave a hum in response. "I can't argue with you there."

"I wouldn't ask you to." Lola told him, her face growing sad. "It's my own guilt to bear and my alone. But it always seems like everyone at French court is out to hurt us. Everyone smiles in our faces while driving knives in our backs. It's maddening."

"Wish I could have properly introduced you to that particular part of court." Sebastian said. "Could have spared you any disappointment."

"That's not the word that I would describe it as." Lola said, her brows furrowing. "Perhaps a bit… jarring. But unlike our queen I was not raised in a convent. I've seen my share of unfairness and cruelty. It lurks where we wouldn't expect it to. I shouldn't be surprised that France holds its malice." She gave him a brief shrug, her face holding a smile that was both sad and radiant all at once. "But it will get better. I've managed to begin moving on from Colin, so perhaps things can change if we really want them to."

Sebastian almost broke the girl's heart then. The hopefully Scottish girl who had just lost her love in the most horrendous way possible. He almost told her that he had lived in French court all of his life and it hadn't changed much in all those years. He almost told her that her new home would disappoint her. But he didn't, and she didn't see the brief look of shame on his face.

Nostradamus came back in the room, a disapproving look on his face. He nodded at the brunette noble respectively, despite his next words. "Forgive me, Lady Lola, but Sebastian shouldn't be exerting himself like this."

Sebastian pursed his lips distastefully. "Are you going to send everyone from my bedside, Nostradamus? They do say that beauty has its own way of healing."

"As a physician, I would very much disagree."

Sebastian rolled his eyes as Lola laughed at the man's words. "There's a book of Norse mythology over there." Bash said gesturing to Andrea's book at the end of his bed. Lola picked it up and looked over the curiously. Bash looked at Nostradamus with a raised brow. "I wouldn't suppose asking Lady Lola to read to me would be overextending myself?"

Nostradamus shook his head and walked over to his work table while Lola smiled at him. "I would be happy to l." She said, opening the book on her lap delicately. She eyed him over the brim of the book with a bit of mirth before she opened her mouth and began telling him about Odin the King of the Gods

~For Country and Blood~

Andrea should have felt far more pride when it came to light that Simon had been responsible for the English ambush. After all, it had been her information that had led to his arrest, but she couldn't help the nagging feeling in the back of her head that told her something was wrong. She didn't know what it was. Judith seemed truthful as she told of her perspective of Simon's apparent confession. She described him perfectly, right down to the medallion that he wore around his neck. But something about her statements didn't sit right with her. She got the same feeling whenever she watched Charlotte smile in an older nobleman's face as if she actually enjoying his company. It wasn't until she came to this comparison that Judith's account wasn't an act by a prostitute with a golden heart, but a performance all together.

She thought on it as she questioned servants and nobles alike without ever letting them know that they were in the middle of an interrogation. It was a practiced skill of hers and she used it for Francis' advantage against Tomas.

And did she learn plenty.

Tomas was a cruel man. She didn't come to her deduction lightly, as any servant could easily speak ill of their masters and Mistresses. Not even the fear in their eyes persuaded her at first. It was Tomas himself that hit the nail in the proverbial coffin that was her investigation against him.

He had been speaking with a few other men, smiling and nodding along like a good diplomat. His movements seemed practiced and almost robotic, like he was trying far too hard to get the people around him to believe that he was a good man. If Andrea had been better acquainted with the Portuguese prince, she would have commended him on his ability to lie and play a part well. After all, cruel men were often the best performers around.

"Lady Andrea de la Tremoille." She turned and slid a smile on to her face at Tomas as he nodded his head at her in greeting. "You are a vision of beauty."

She curtseyed slightly, her face still polite and neutral. "Thank you, your Grace." She said, straightening herself up and raising a brow at him. "It is your Grace now, isn't it? Your engagement to the Queen of Scots hasn't been official for long, but I do believe congratulations are in order."

Tomas chuckle, the sound coming out as more of a rumble from deep within his chest. "It is your Grace now. Not only will I one day be King of Scotland, but king of Portugal as well."

Andrea's brow shot up in faux surprise. "Well, how lucky for you. A bastard born one day and an inheritor to two countries the next." A dark look passed over Tomas' face, it lasted for a moment but a moment was all she needed. "Have I offended, your Grace?"

He smiled at her, a smile that was forced and tight and not at all what she would consider pleasant. "Not at all. You speak true. But being a bastard was never a weakness of mine."

"I would suppose not." Andrea hummed in agreement. "You are favored and rewarded."

"Favored, rewarded and experienced in our cruel world of blood and legitimacy." Tomas explained, his tone boastful. "As a bastard, you learn to take what you can and use whatever tools at your disposal to get what you want."

"You make it sound like some kind of game,my Lord."

Tomas chuckled again. "Is it not? Do you French not play such games with your own bastard's?"

Andrea tensed at the question and pursed her lips trying not to let Tomas see how much it truly bothered her. "I wouldn't know, as I am not a bastard."

"But you consort with one, no?" Tomas stepped towards her and, instinctively, she took a small step back. "French bastards and French princes, all the same."

"I'm not sure what you mean." Andrea replied in an innocent tone, though she knew very well what he was implying. Tomas was devious and cruel, but stupid he was not.

He raised a brow and grinned at her. "Do you not? I have heard that you whisper in the Dauphin's ear quite frequently. What do you whisper?"

He reached forward and took her hand in his, his other coming to softly stroke the exposed skin of her wrist. She shifted uncomfortably at the contact, but did not pull away from him. His touch was gentle and rough all at once, his calloused fingers felt like tiny pin pricks against her skin. "Only admiration for my Dauphin and dear friend."

"Admiration?" Tomas asked in a mere murmur. "Is that what they call it in France?"

Andrea frowned deeply at him. "It? Are you accusing me of something?"

"Not at all." He said with a wide grin. "Simply implying… that you can do much better than a lowly Dauphin of France."

"Lowly?" Andrea took this chance to pull her hand away. "Francis is the next King of France. I'd hardly call him lowly. Besides that, he is just my Dauphin and my friend and nothing more. Nothing less either."

"And you are comfortable in that position when you could have so much more?"

The sentence brought a chill down her spine like never before. She stared at him for a moment in wide eyed shock before she recouped herself and busied her hands with straightening the skirt of her dress instead of twirling her braid nervously. "Does Queen Mary know that you seek a mistress?"

He scoffed. "And why should I consort with her on my plans?"

"Because she is to be your wife."

"She is to be my property." Tomas grabbed her again, except this time his grip was tight and rough. His fingers squeezed into her skin, surely bruising it for tomorrow, and she barely managed to let out a small cry as he yanked her to his chest. "No longer that of your dear Dauphin. The French prince is entirely too used to getting his way. Perhaps I might relieve him of one more of his possessions to remind him of my future rule."

"Is that it then?" She scoffed at him, even though the pain in her arm was growing the angrier the man in front of her got. "You would steal what belongs to someone else because of what? Your ego? Your pride?" She shook her head at him. "Or is it the lack of something? And besides that, I don't serve Francis, I serve her Majesty Queen Catherine de Medici and I highly doubt she'd take kindly to you trying to poach one of her ladies from her."

Tomas smirked at her in a rather twisted and angered way before he roughly released her and took a step back, to her great relief. The air had grown thick with tension, so much so that it felt as if she was polluting her own lungs with it.

"We have much better whores in Portugal, in any case." He sneered at her.

She took in a breath and let out a light laugh. "Then it is a good thing that I'm not a whore. To spare myself the jealousy."

He looked at her once more before walking away, leaving her alone in the hall. She felt a great sense of relief wash over her and she placed her hand over her chest in a failed effort to calm the pounding of her heart. She was scared of him, that was for sure, but through her fear, she had gotten exactly what she needed for Francis.

~For Country and Blood~

"Tomas of Portugal is a complete arse."

Francis tore his eyes away from his sleeping and ailing brother to look at his friend with a frown as she waltzed in. "What?"

Andrea shook her head and joined him at Bash's bedside. He still didn't look any better than she had left him that morning, but he didn't look any worse and that made her happy at least. "Prince Tomas of Portugal is an arse. An arrogant, entitled arse. The entitled part is fairly surprising seeing as he's been a bastard for the whole of his life."

"Yes, I do believe we established that." Francis said with a bit of mirth. "Did you find out any information?"

"Did you also know that the pope was incredibly apprehensive in naming him legitimate?" Andrea tutted. "Apparently, word of his torrid personality has reached as far as the Vatican."

Francis raised a brow at her. "Well, yes, I suppose it would. The Pope can't just appoint anyone as the head of an entire country."

"But the Portuguese king insisted." Andrea sighed, avoiding looking Francis in the eye as she reached down to brush a lock of hair from Sebastian's face. "Does a king have that much sway? To argue against the voice of God?"

Francis frowned at her. "Andrea, why are we discussing the Pope? What happened?" He leaned forward to look at her perturbed face. "Did you find out something about Tomas?"

Andrea pursed her lips and shifted uncomfortably next to him, making him frown in confusion and concern. "Not so much found out as… experienced."

"Experienced?" Francis turned her to face him and looked over her with a bit of panic. "What do you mean "experienced"? Did he hurt you?"

"No, Francis, he didn't-" she stopped short when Francis looked over her wrist where Tomas had grabbed not even an hour ago. "Francis...

The Dauphin lifted it to his eye level and looked over the bruised skin with a sharp and seething glare. "He did this? For the love of God, Andrea why didn't you tell me as soon as this happened?"

"Because I know you," Andrea told him, gently taking her arm from his firm, yet painless grip "And now is not the time for you to start a war just because he grabbed me."

Francis stared at her in shock and anger. "Andrea, he bruised you, it was more than a grab." He grabbed her wrist once more and held it up so that she could see for herself, as if she didn't know. "I won't have him walking around hurting the Valois household."

"Then listen close to what I say and listen well." Andrea sighed and looked down at Bash for a moment, taking in his sweat blanketed skin and pale color. "Tomas isn't just an arse, he's cruel. And incredibly jealous and with a big enough ego to do whatever he can to get what he wants. And he wants, unfortunately for you, whatever you have."

Francis looked at her with confusion. "Whatever I have? Why would he want that?"

Andrea shrugged lightly. "I can't say with certainty, but my guess is that he's envious and covets that of a prince. He was a bastard, and though he was favored and titled, that's all he would ever be and… perhaps he's envious that you did not have to fight for the privileges you hold… He takes things that catch his eye, that's no shock."

"And how does that explain his hurting you?"

Andrea shifted again and avoided Francis very curious and pointed gaze. "...Because of the rumors that I frequently sleep with members of the royal family to secure my place in court."

Francis let out a groan of frustration and annoyance. He loved many things about French court. The art, the different people that filtered through the castle on a daily basis, and the beauty and expanse of the grounds. What he hated, however, we're the more malicious aspects of it. The rumors and scandal that seemed to lurk around every corner waiting to ensnare it's next victim. Andrea was no exception to this. "That's nonsense! I will not defend our friendship to those who are not it!"

"I don't ask you to." Andrea said. "But because of those rumors, Tomas thinks that… I am yours and thus… his for the taking. "

"...He asked you to be his mistress?"

"In so many words." Andrea told him. "And I believe that is cause enough to assume how he'll treat Mary."

Francis ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "What am I to do? She has to marry him. The English still lurk around the Scottish border, waiting for an opening. If the Portuguese flee, then Scotland will look even weaker than before."

Andrea shook her head, her expression. "I'm not sure what you can do, Francis… We both know this outcome, Mary is going to leave for Portugal."

"... Perhaps I can speak to Mary." Francis suggested, though Andrea was less convinced than he was. "I can tell her about Tomas' cruelty and his scheming."

Andrea nodded. "Perhaps… please don't tell Mary about what Tomas asked me." Francis gave a her a look, but didn't question her. "Despite our stations, I do like her. I don't want to be directly responsible for any pain caused to her."

It was the truth, though not a thought she had upheld. As long as she was Catherine's lady, she would continue to do things against Mary. She would continue to spy and feed Catherine information about her and while that made her guilty enough, to be a direct such pain…

Francis nodded and patted her hand. "I understand. I won't tell her, I promise."

"And should the conversation not end in the way that you want…" She reached up a hand to set on his cheek, a sad smile on her face. "Remember our conversation from the other night… you have to let her go."

The conversation brought a deep and pained frown to his face, but nodded nonetheless. She smiled comfortingly at him before his expression darkened and he stepped towards her with purpose. "If Tomas touches you again, I won't think twice about war between our countries when I run him through with my sword. Do you understand?"

Andrea let her eyes dart over Francis' face in a shocked stupor. Her best friend, her Dauphin, her Francis, had never had such a look on his face like he did now. This look was dark and held an omen of what was to come. He reminded her too much of his ailing brother before he went off to fight. "Don't kill anyone on my account, Dauphin."

"Only if someone were to give me cause." Francis told her. "And so far, Tomas is heading well into that path."

~For Country and Blood~

The next day brought the news that Bash's fever had broken. Andrea had stopped by the infirmary after Tomas had supposedly been there, threatening the King's sons with the subtlety of a child. Both were tense and on edge and it took Andrea the next few hours to calm them down from marching up to the Portuguese prince and taking off his head. Sebastian was in better spirits and that was all that mattered to her at that moment. After spending days worried about whether it not he would live, she felt a weight lifting from her chest when Nostradamus announced that he would be perfectly fine. Annoying, he had said so that the exasperated bastard could hear, but fine nonetheless.

Andrea adjusted the flower crown on her head, the white daisies contrasting quite lovely with her pale blue dress. Her necklace and bracelets all had leaves and small golden vines that danced along the bands. That, coupled with her long strawberry blonde hair tumbling down her back in soft waves, completed her costume as Sif, goddess of the harvest and fertility.

She had half chosen her costume for herself and the other for Sebastian. She knew how he enjoyed those myths and he needed a bit of cheering up. In truth, everyone needed it at that moment and the Michaelmas ball seemed opportune.

Andrea had decided to delay her entrance to the ball to stroll in the gardens. She tried to tell herself that it was just to get some fresh air and certainly not because Nostradamus had told her that Sebastian has retreated outside the moment he was allowed out of bed. She made the excuse that she wanted everyone to see her costume and not just Sebastian, who would surely be happy to see her in such attire. No, she was outside for reasons that were purely not because of Bash.

And sometimes, she proved that the training that Catherine paid for was useless when it came to matters of the heart.

She had found him just outside the castle, swinging his sword in well-practiced twists. He looked more like himself now, to her great relief. His skin had returned it's color and he stood straighter than he had in days. She wondered what had possessed her to ever worry about him in the first place. This was Bash, he was too stubborn to let a wound get the best of him.

"Are you really using a sword now?" She admonished once she was close enough to him. He winced and turned to her with a sheepish grin, one that melted into something genuine once he took in her attire. "Nostradamus will have a fit if you reopen your wound."

He shrugged, his grin never leaving her face. "Better my blade does it than someone else's." He said, still looking her over. "And what did I do to deserve a visit from a beautiful goddess? Did I receive a gift from Odin when I wasn't paying attention?"

She rolled her eyes despite the blush that fluttered across her cheeks. "I was simply taking a stroll before I head to the ball. It's a lovely day."

He smiled at her in a way that told her he saw straight through her excuse. It infuriated her as much as it warmed her soul. "Well, I am incredibly blessed to be in the lovely Lady Sif's presence regardless." He told her with a mock bow. He winced as he tried to straighten back up and she immediately closed the small distance between them to help him stand. "I'm alright." He tried to reassure her, not missing the small frown on her beautiful face. "I'm healing, but there is still some pain."

"All the more reason you should be resting."

Sebastian shook his head. "If I had spent one more minute in that bed, I'm sure Nostradamus would have cooked me into one of his potions."

"A welcome improvement, I'm sure." Andrea joked, stepping back from him once she was sure that he was standing straight.

Bash smiled at her and caught sight of something over her shoulder. "Ah! St. Michael are you?" Andrea turned to follow his gaze, finding Francis donned in the garbs of the angel Michael as his costume. It fit, after all, with his blonde hair. The only thing that stood out was the dark frown still on his face. "Better have a real sword if you plan to stay Lucifer."

Francis rolled his eyes as he came to stand with them. "Did you have to bring up Tomas? I was actually enjoying my day up until then."

Bash gave his brother a teasing grin while Andrea shook her head at them, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips. "I heard that everyone's noticed his change. Before Mary accepted his proposal, he acted like a completely different person."

"We all put on acts until we get what we want." Bash told her. "In Tomas' case, he played a part until he got a wife."

"Or a queen." Francis said slowly, a flash of realization dancing across his face.

Andrea have him a look of confusion. "Francis?"

He looked up at her, his blue eyes wide with a sudden burst of shock. "You said that the pope was hesitant to declare Tomas legitimate because of the rumors that the pope has heard." Andrea nodded and gestured for him to go on. "Then why would he reconsider? He's the pontiff, God's vessel on Earth, he needn't argue with anyone."

Bash and Andrea looked at one another, unsure of where Francis' train of thought was going. "The King of Portugal insisted, didn't he?" Bash said. "King's negotiate with His Holiness all the time."

"But would the King of Portugal literally risk his crown to argue with the voice of God?" Francis said, his eyes turning to Andrea as it slowly dawned on her as well. "What leverage could he have possibly had to convince the pope to change his line of succession?"

Andrea frowned in thought. "The kind of leverage that could change political tides and the fates of several countries. The pope would only really take Tomas' claims of legitimacy seriously if he had something to back up his rule." She looked at Bash imploringly. "Like a very, very powerful wife."

"Which he only secured once our army was attacked and Portugal could swoop in to save Mary's country." Bash said, his teeth gritted together. "Well, I guess we can never say that Tomas isn't determined."

Francis nodded, his face fairly grave. "He's the spy that caused the ambush. We just need to prove it."

~For Country and Blood~

Mary made her way through the elegantly decorated hall, taking in the happiness that seemed to surround her while she had none to compare. On the surface, she was courteous smiles and the epitome of how a Queen should behave. But if one would dig deeper, they would finding a screaming and frustrated girl while crown was too big for her head.

She was going to marry a monster. In truth, the prospect of marrying any man for political reasons left a bad taste in her mouth, but she would reluctantly play along to save her beloved Scotland. With Francis, she was alright being his future wife. Happy even. She knew him. Even when she arrived back at court to a prince that slept with servants and didn't want to marry her, she knew that he would treat her with respect and dignity in their marriage. He'd never want to hurt her. Francis was a good man after all. A man that she would gladly have children with because she knew that he would love them dearly. And even if he couldn't love her, he'd protect her from the threats against her life and country.

Just as she saw a flicker of something else in her situation, a bit of romance and heart racing passion, it was ripped away in a cruel and tragic twist of events. She was going to be the wife of a man who beat servants to subdue her, who claimed her birthright and title selfishly for himself. A man that she was afraid she'd have to defend herself against in the near future. A shiver ran up her spine as she thought about the sadistic smirk on his face, the way he seemed to take pleasure from her pain. She felt hopeless and afraid all at once. Afraid that she had made the biggest mistake of her life.

She glanced down at the seal in her hand. At least one person was on her side. Even if she couldn't see their face, she felt comfort in the flickering of shadows. Several guests of court bowed to her as she passed and she in turn nodded her head graciously at them, her eyes set on the main event of the evening.

"Simon," Mary said simply, a small and unconcerned smile on her face. "I was told I could find you here."

Simon glared at her, but the chains around a his arms and neck took away any heat the look might have had. Though she didn't want to admit to such a dark thought, it was extremely satisfying to see him in such a state. "So you've heard. I'm the entertainment. Or my head is when it comes off at midnight."

"I will surely mourn you then." Mary said, though her tone sounded more pleasant than the words presented. "As any good Christian should."

He rolled his eyes, stewing in his own anger and doom. "Try not to look so upset."

"And why would I be upset?" Mary tilted her head at him curiously.

"I understand you signed the statement naming me as the spy behind that ambush. I don't suppose you care that I'm innocent?"

Mary almost scoffed. Of all the things that she related to the English and their kingdom -most particularly negative- innocent was definitely not a word she'd ever use for any of them. "I might… if I believed it. Was is not a few weeks ago that you were conspiring to scare me out of France?"

"Is that what this is about then?" Simon seethed at her, his chains rattling slightly as he sat up in her a seat. His writhing like a caged animal did little to scare the Queen of Scots, who stood looking down at him with a smug look on his face. "A form of petty revenge?"

"Petty?" Mary gaped softly, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion and annoyance. "You aided in the deaths of hundreds of French soldiers. I'd hardly call anything about this situation petty."

Simon stared at her for a moment before slumping back against his makeshift throne in defeat. "If you truly believe me guilty then I guess there is little else to say."

"Perhaps." Mary said, fumbling his seal through her fingers so that he could see it clearly.

Simon's eyes flickered down to it, a confused frown filling his expression. "My seal stamp." His gaze rose to the Queen's, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Wondered where that thing went."

Mary hummed, not wanting to reveal that she hardly knew how it ended up in her possession either. Her fingers ran over the raised and curved roses. "Tell me, Simon, why is your seal so similar to the royal English seal?"

Simon gave her a dull and unamused look, obviously irritated with her question. "Forgive me, your majesty, if I don't want to spend my last hours discussing politics and seals."

Mary rolled her eyes, casting them to the ceiling in slight exasperation. "Humor me, Lord Westbrook."

"...The Queen is a cousin by marriage." Simon relented, his tone still tight and displeased. "She styles the rose white, we style it red." Mary gave a light "hm" at the answer, her gaze dropping to the red roses that decorated the bottom of the seal. Simon glared at her nonchalant attitude. "Why do you ask?"

Mary shrugged. "A friend of mine was interested. Thought I might be interested too."

Before Simon could reply, his eyes caught sight of something behind her that stopped any words in his mouth.

"Mary. Come here, please."

She felt as if her entire body stiffened the moment the voice reached her ears. A shiver of fear and displeasure ran up her spine that glued her to her spot for a moment. She didn't want to move; she wanted to scream and run as far as she could away from the cruel and wicked man who was to be her husband.

Simon seemed to notice her stiff posture and, surprisingly, had the good graces to look just a bit concerned. "Afraid, your Grace?"

Mary purses her lips and took in a deep breath. "Incredibly so, Lord Westbrook. The lives of those soldiers aren't the only ones that you had a hand in destroying."

"Mary!"

Mary covered her face with her mask and turned away from Simon before he had the chance to reply to her small moment of weakness. Tomas stood at the bottom of the steps, dressed as a pirate complete with a feathered hat. Her stomach tightened and her skin crawled the closer she got to him, but she went regardless.

She plastered a smile on to her face and curtsied, putting on the facade of a happy future wife. "Good evening, my lord."

Tomas seemed unimpressed with her for a moment before his eyes ran down her body. A pleased rumble tumbled from his chest and she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "You look like a huntress." He said, his tone hungry.

Mary simply smiled. "I chose my costume for you. I know that the bow is your favorite weapon."

Tomas raised a brow and gave her a dry look. "My second favorite, but thank you." He leaned forward, invading her space and practically engulfing her in his scent and presence. She swallowed nervously, but didn't move from her spot. "Where were you this afternoon?"

Mary's eyes flickered to his, feeling as if she had been dunked in ice cold water. "This afternoon? I… had tea with my ladies. We were discussing arrangements once we move to Portugal."

Tomas' gaze turned dangerous then. A fury filled his eyes and his hand shot out to wrap around her wrist. He pulled her to him roughly and his other arm snuck around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she was sure that there would be bruises on her sides. She winced and tried to step away, but his strength was too great for her.

"Y-your grip is a little tight, my lord." She stuttered out, trying to keep her words even as a whimper threatened to escape her lips.

He chuckled in her ear, the sound as malicious as it was sadistic. "No tighter than your former fiancée's, I'm sure."

He was too rough with her. Never in her life had she ever been handled in such a way. She felt powerless and fragile all at once. Amongst those feelings, however, she was angry. The nuns had always told her that it was unbecoming of a lady to be angry, to intimidate her husband and other lords of nobility. She was to be a good Catholic girl, who obeyed and was gracious in the public eye.

She was sure that she would go to hell, but she wished nothing but suffering to the man before her. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Mary lied easily. She had, in fact, been with Francis earlier that day. The memory of his affection and comfort warmed her skin, his words of longing tickled her ears. They were the only things that kept her somewhat calm, despite the mishandling at her future husband's hands. "I'm offended that you would accuse me of such a thing."

Tomas' grip tightened even more, forcing her to submit to his physical strength. She whimpered slightly and squeezed her eyes shut. If he was so willing to do this in public, what would he do when there were no eyes to judge his actions towards his wife. "Must I send for your whipping boy?" He seethed at her. "Must I remind my fiancé how easy it is to break her rebellious spirit?"

"Let go of her!"

The voice was music to her ears. Tomas thankfully moved out of her space and whipped around to face Francis as the prince pulled him away from the Queen. Bash and Andrea were close behind him. Andrea tried to reach for her, but Tomas glared at her and blocked her path, snapping his hand out to grab Mary's arm again in a viscous grip.

"You have forgotten our talk, princling." Tomas bit out at Francis, who glared back at him just as sharply as he was. "Mary is my fiancé now."

"Your fiancé. Not your wife, not your property, and certainly not your toy to do with what you want." Francis said, his eyes flickering to Mary in concern. The words warmed her heart and she smiled at him despite the aching pain where Tomas still held her wrist. "You came here almost a crown prince, but not quite. The pope wouldn't declare you legitimate without a good reason, or without the right amount of influence."

"In this case, adding the Queen of a powerful country to your family." Bash continued, his own blue eyes filled with heat and hatred.

Tomas laughed humorlessly. "Are you jealous as well? Afraid that I'll take your French prostitute with me to Portugal and give her the life a bastard such as yourself could never give her."

Bash bristled at the comment and started to open his mouth to reply when Andrea, with her brows furrowed in concern and her eyes never leaving Mary, shook her head. "Mary, are you alright?"

"She's of no concern of yours." Tomas snapped before Mary could even utter a word.

"She has all of our concern." Francis shot back, standing straight as he stared against Tomas' heated gaze. "You'd been going all over Europe looking for a powerful ally, haven't you? To make yourself a king. And when Mary needed troops went to her country, you were suddenly there to help because my men were ambushed."

Mary, in horrific realization, looked to Tomas in a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "Because of a tip from a spy at court. A spy we assumed was Simon." Guilt riddled her as she looked back at the man she had aided in sentencing to death.

Francis shook his head. "And yet Tomas had a far better motive."

Tomas smirked, seeming amused with Francis' words. "If you're accusing the next King of Portugal of treason, I hope you have more proof than the word of a whore and silly trains of thought."

"We'll have proof soon enough." Francis told him through gritted teeth. "In the meantime, you aren't the prince or king of anything yet and you are standing in my court. So let. go. of. Mary."

Tomas gave him a long and hard stare before he released his grip on Mary and stormed off. They all let out a collective breath of relief.

"Well done Francis." Andrea breathlessly commended before she stepped to Mary's side. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Mary said in a relieved tone, gripping Andrea's hand in comfort. Her eyes drew to Francis, who stared back at her in worry and thought. "You said that you would have proof?"

Francis nodded. "His valet, Miguel. His other servants tell us that if anyone knows anything, it's him."

"He hates his master. I think he'll help us if we can protect him."

Bash scoffed lightly. "There will be nothing to protect him from if I have my way."

Andrea shook her head as she inspected the delicate skin of Mary's wrist, a mixture of anger and concern flooding through her. "We need him alive, Sebastian. As much as any of us want him dead, we need him to admit his guilt." Sebastian was obviously displeased with her words, but said nothing as he knew she was right. "Bloody hell, I think you'll have bruises, Mary."

"I'll worry about that later." Mary told her, worry and panic etched on her face. "That woman, Judith, she said that she saw Simon in the brothel. That she heard him admit to it."

"She was probably paid." Francis said. "I hate to say it, but her line of work calls for such things."

Andrea huffed lightly. "Prostitutes are easily pulled into these games, it seems."

"Then we have to find her." Mary looked at Simon sitting there waiting for his death. "I won't have innocent blood on my hands. Andrea, will you come with me to look for Judith?"

Andrea nodded. "Of course, I'll have the stable boys ready our horses."

Mary nodded, her face fixed into determination. "Let us hurry, quickly. The sun is setting and the King won't wait long."

~For Country and Blood~

"What lies? Why would I?!"

Andrea rolled her eyes while Mary, with her perpetual kindness and patience, merely frowned at the hysterical woman. "I'd say for the money to buy that new cloak and those boots." Mary told her, trying her hardest to sound compassionate through her hurry. She reached forward and moved her blonde hair from her jaw to reveal the dark bruises that line her skin. "And for this? To make him stop hitting you?"

Judith, indignant and steadfast to her original story, shuffled uncomfortably and quickly pulled her hair back to cover the abuse. "I got that from a patron."

Andrea glared at her. "A patron? Are you really going to stand before the Queen of Scotland and lie to her again?" She scoffed, despite Mary's pleading look for her to be kinder to the frightened woman. "End your act, you've already been found out."

Judith, with wide frightened eyes, shook her head. "I didn't do anything but tell what I saw, milady!"

"When I signed your statement, you told me that you saw Simon clearly." Mary said, her tone becoming imploring and desperate. The sun was getting lower in the sky and it wouldn't be long before the King got tired of waiting for his prisoner's head to come off. "His face, his clothes, his medallion. What was the color of the rose on the medallion?" Judith seemed flustered by the question, as if she were searching for the right thing to say and coming up short. Mary sighed deeply. "I'll make it easy for you, was it red or was it white?"

"I-it was white, the seal of the English crown."

Andrea glared at the woman while Mary gave an exasperated and pitied sigh. "Simon's seal is different." Mary said. "His rose is red."

Judith, knowing that she had been caught shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. Andrea almost felt bad for her. Almost. "Oh please let me be, I'm so scared!"

"Scared?" Andrea admonished. "Imagine how scared you'll be when the King and Queen of France learn that you lied to their face to protect the man that slaughtered their army and put the King's son at death's door. Catherine de Medici is not a merciful woman!"

Judith shook her head, her eyes wide in fear. "Please, I'm sorry! He swore that he would kill me!"

Mary purses her lips in displeasure. "He wasn't lying if he's who I think he is. Just tell me this: would you know this man if you saw him again?"

Judith's eyes darted between the angry Andrea and the much more patient Mary before she gave them a timid nod. Mary let out a relieved puff of air and turned to her guards. "Get her on a horse! We don't have much time!"

As the guards dragged Judith to a horse, Mary turned to Andrea with a deep frown. "Will we make it back in time?

Andrea sighed and took her hand in comfort. "We will. Don't worry, Mary. There won't be innocent blood on your hands. Even if they're English."

Mary tilted her head at her. "Surely the English deserve justice as well?"

"As much as they have given others." Andrea said, steering Mary to her horse. "We must go before the King and Queen lose what little patience they have."

~For Country and Blood~

Francis was falling in love with Mary. More than he was willing to admit at the present moment, but it was that feeling that pressed him through the forest in search of Tomas. He didn't know what it was about her, why he was so enamored with the young, fiery Queen, but he was and there was no stopping himself now. Andrea had told him that he had to let her go, but now it seemed he didn't have to. If all went well, Tomas would have his head in a basket and Mary would be his fiancé again.

He could vaguely hear Sebastian struggling to keep up behind him and he wheeled around to look at his brother with concern. The man was, in fact, pushing himself well past his limits. Sweet beaded on his forehead and he was hunched over slightly in pain. Francis, in his bout of worry, dashed to his brother's side and attempted to loop his arm over his shoulder. Bash gave him a small glare to the man and tried to shrug off his younger brother's attempts to help him.

"I'm fine." Bash told him. "Don't worry about me, we need to find Tomas."

Francis pursed his lips at his brother as he tried to walk on ahead of him. "Finding Tomas won't mean anything if you reopen your injuries before then."

Bash rolled his eyes. "You sound like Nostradamus. Or worse, Andrea."

"Well, they're both right about you being stubborn." Francis muttered loud enough for Bash to hear, making the dark haired man raise an amused eyebrow at his brother. "Finding Tomas is very important, yes. But I won't risk your health again for the likes of someone like him."

Bash shrugged. "You don't have to. I'm taking the risk myself." Bash reached down and pulled his sword from his hip, giving his brother a meaningful look all the while. "While I appreciate your good heart and your concern, there are times when it is needed and times when it is not. This is one of those moments when we simply need to focus on bringing Tomas to his knees in front of the executioner."

"And he will." Francis argued, coming to walk to his side. "We'll find Miguel, and Tomas, but-"

Bash let out an exasperated sigh and turned back to his brother, stopping the blonde in his tracks. "This man helped slaughter our men. Good men, many who I served with for years."

Francis nodded, though he seemed displeased with the impending lecture. "I know."

"He also planned to try and make Andrea his mistress. Can you imagine what he would have done to her if he had his way?"

The blonde's expression darkened exponentially. He nodded and clenched his jaw in anger. "I know that as well."

Bash pulled a dagger from his holster and placed it into Francis' hand, giving him a meaningful look. "And let's not forget that he would have subjected Mary to a cruel and loveless marriage in Portugal, where she would have fought her husband every day for just an ounce of respect. " Francis was silent then, stewing in his own rage and anger towards the Portuguese bastard. Bash, in support, reached forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "There are times when you can worry about me all you like, but there are also times when my pain is meaningless compared to others. You'll be king one day; you have to heed that lesson."

Francis ' anger seemed to dissipate slightly and he raised an amused brow at his brother. "Are you giving me ruling advice now, brother?"

Bash rolled his eyes and shrugged, continuing on with their treck through the woods. "Not ruling advice, no. Advice from one brother to another? Certainly."

They arrived to a small clearing where poppies littered the ground in full bloom. It would have been a beautiful sight had Tomas not stood in the middle of it with his bow drawn on his petrified servant. A chill ran up Francis' spine at the thought that they would be too late to save the only person who could pin Tomas to the crimes he had committed.

"No! Miguel, run!" He called out, his voice filled with a panicked desperation.

Tomas turned to them, shock and anger on his face and looked like he was ready to fire his arrow at them. Instead, at the last minute, he turned and fired the arrow directly at Miguel, striking him in the back with a deadly precision. Francis and Bash sprang into action as Miguel crumbled into a heap on the ground. Bash was in front of Tomas with a sword at his throat before the bastard prince could move to draw his own. The two bastards stared each other down with deadly glares that would kill if they had the will to do so.

"Don't kill him." Francis told Bash as he made his way to the injured Tomas. "We need his confession."

Bash tilted his head slightly at the smirking Tomas, feeling agitated with his very presence. "I'm trying very hard not to."

Tomas' smirk widened as he looked the fuming Bash up and down as if Sebastian was the most inferior being he had ever come across. It only made his hold his sword tighter in an effort to stay his hand from thrusting the steel into his gut.

"I'm surprised that you of all people don't understand my position." Tomas told him in a taunting manner. "A bastard must make his way in this world by any means necessary."

"A bastard must survive by any means necessary." Bash corrected him, his eyes narrowed in a deadly stare. "Was this for your survival? Or for your selfishness and pride?"

"This was for my country!" Tomas declared, his smirk ripping from his face and instead replaced with a bout of anger and rage. "This was to show this world, Europe and the Pope, that a bastard has as much claim to the throne as a one year old child or a regent. I will not be treated as less any longer because of the mistakes of others."

Bash scoffed. "Is that what this is? Some childish anger over your bastardization? You get more than most bastards. You're titled, favored, rich. You couldn't have been content with that?"

"And be as you are?" Tomas snapped. "A nameless bastard with nothing to offer anyone? Not even that pretty red head with the quick temper." Bash's already deadly glare grew downright murderous. Tomas' smirk returned, knowing that he had gotten under his skin. "I wondered why a woman such as her would bother with the French King's bastard. I could give her everything that her heart desires."

"And yet she's disgusted with you." Bash mocked angrily. "How unfortunate."

"Women like her are easily swayed." Tomas said, seeming far too sure of himself. "Women that sleep with bastards and princes are the easiest to pull into my bedchamber. Flash a pretty jewel and I would have her in my grasp like that." He snapped for emphasis, the sound only seeming to piss Sebastian off more. "Does that anger you? Don't tell me that you're in love with Catherine de Medici's whore?"

Bash was distracted for only a moment by his words and Tomas saw an opening before Bash could comprehend what was happening. Tomas withdrew his sword and lunged at him, the clash of swords and clangs ringing through the usually peaceful forest. Bash hissed in pain as he felt his wound reopening from the fervency of the fight. Tomas swung wildly at him, his strikes meaning to kill and his entire demeanor telling Bash that only one of them were going to leave that fight alive.

Bash cried out in pain as his sword was knocked from his hand and he was left tumbling back into a pile of poppy flowers. Tomas, leering and much too confident in Bash's defeat, raised his sword over his head and prepared to strike. Before he could end Sebastian's life, Francis dashed forward with his sword drawn to protect his brother. Tomas was more ruthless in his assault, fully intent on killing the French Prince as he roughly swung his sword at him.

Tomas chuckled ruthlessly at him. "You're going to lose." He taunted Francis, who stood protectively in front of his brother. "You never learned how to take like a bastard learns. Take a crown, take a woman, take a life!" He flung his sword at Francis' chest, which the blonde prince barely managed to dodge. "You can't do it!"

The Portuguese bastard roughly pushed Francis back into a tree, knocking his sword from his hand. Francis scrambled against and found himself staring at the end of one of Tomas' arrow. Before Francis could even fathom the idea that he might die in that forest at the hands of the monster before him, Tomas let out a cry of pain as one of Bash's dagger lodged deeply into his chest. Francis whipped around in shock to look at his brother, who still lay injured on the ground but with another dagger ready to be thrown in his hand. Not risking another moment, Francis grabbed the knife that Bash had given him earlier and held it to Tomas' neck, stopping the vicious man in his tracks.

"Don't, move." Francis said in between panting breaths. "Or you will find a blade in your neck."

Tomas seemed unconcerned with the threat and instead glared at Francis, speaking in a low and confident tone. "If you kill me, you'll have war." He said, making Francis grit his teeth. "But if you let me go with Mary, you will have peace."

Francis' eyes narrowed at the sound of Mary's name from his lips and shook his head. "When they take off your head, I'll remember the men you killed. I'll remember what you said to Andrea and I'll stand by Mary's side as we watch the executioner end your life for all of your crimes. You're finished."

Rage flashed before Tomas' eyes and he lunged at the prince in a last effort to save himself, but Francis was faster. He stuck his blade into Tomas' heart. He stared at Francis with a mixture of shock and fear and crumbled before the horrified prince. Francis stared at his shaking hands and let the dagger fall to the ground with a hollow thud beside the man he had just killed. He wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to feel, but the weight on his chest that left him feeling wholly alone was almost crippling. Tomas was a monster, one that deserved death, but Francis never wanted it to be at his hands.

Francis clenched his fist and turned to his ailing brother, quickly crossing to help him up. "Can you ride?" He said, holding his quacking hand out to Bash to take. "We have to get back before they execute Simon."

Bash glanced at his brother's shaking hand before taking it and allowing him to pull him to his feet. He staggered for a moment before getting his footing when Francis placed a hand on his shoulder. "Francis, stop." He told the fretting prince, placing both hands on his shoulders to stop his movement and get him to look at him for just a moment. Francis stared at his brother looking a bit lost and shook up, a look that Bash never wanted to see on his face if he could help it. He was his little brother, after all. "Killing isn't supposed to be easy. If your hands weren't shaking, you'd be him." He gestured to the dead man at their feet. "Killers and monsters feel nothing when taking a life. Good men mourn their friends and enemies."

Francis nodded, feeling a little bit of the weight of his chest dissipate with his words. "We have to go."

"Of course." Bash said as he began limping to his horse. "Time to bring the right man to justice and end this once and for all."

~For Country and Blood~

Francis had killed Tomas. When she had seen his dead body being thrown carelessly to the throne room floor, she had thought that Bash had run him through like he had wanted. But then she took note of Francis' shaking hands and Bash being held up by a few guards, and she put it together. Shock ran through her as well as sympathy, as she knew that Francis wasn't a soldier. He had never taken a life before like his brother had. He had been coddled in that regard and it seemed that the last bit of innocence that he held was gone.

After Simon had been freed and Tomas' body had been sent back to Portugal, everyone was ordered to never speak of what had transpired on pain of death. Officially, it had been declared that Tomas had died while trying to save Francis during a hunting accident. It was a legacy a man like Tomas certainly didn't deserve, but she would abide by the rules regardless of her feelings.

"You're an idiot."

"Of course."

"And you have complete disregard for your own safety and wellbeing."

"As you have told me many times before."

Andrea huffed and crossed her arms over her chest as they walked side by side. They were taking a stroll in the gardens, far enough from the castle that no one would bother them. The sun hung low enough in the horizon that the sky was painted in a series of purples and oranges. French summers were always her favorite, crisp and beautiful. The pleasant smells of the garden wafted through the air and put her at ease. She had a strong feeling of home at the moment, remembering times when she was a girl and played in the very spot that she stood in.

"If you don't care about yourself, I would like it if you at least cared enough about me not to worry me so. I'll have gray hairs in a few years with your antics."

Sebastian's amused expression softened then as he looked at the strawberry blonde, taking in her worried frown and far too adorable pout. He sighed deeply and stopped their slow, leisurely stroll to turn and look at her fully. She turned as well, eyeing his with curiosity.

"Alright, Andrea La Tremoille, I am at your whim then." He announced to her, making her tilt her head at him curiously. "I've apologized so much that it's starting to lose its meaning. So, whatever you wish of me to make up for those graying hairs, I'll be happy to oblige you."

A smile reached Andrea's face then, making him grin in return. "You're such a cheek."

"Entirely so." Bash joked along with her. "So what will it be? Will you have me do your errands for Catherine for a week? Brush Gilly? Sew one of your dresses?"

Andrea laughed. "You can't sew."

"I can learn." He pointed out to her, mindlessly grinning like a mad man hopelessly infatuated with the girl before him. "Come now, tell me what you want."

Andrea bit her lip and stared at him in thought, as if she were weighing her many options in her mind. "…I don't want anything."

Bash's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Nothing? Truly?"

Andrea shrugged and continued walking before him, her eyes cast down to the lovely flowers that grew around them. "You're alive, Francis is happy and Mary is staying in France. Besides that, even Catherine seems to be in better spirits. I can't think of anything else I could want."

Bash raised an eyebrow at her and took a few broad steps so that he walked besides her again. "So you're content then?"

"I suppose." She told him with a light hum. "For the first time in a very long time… I feel a bit happy even."

Bash smiled at her. "Happiness suits you."

"Does it?" She said, beaming contently at him.

Bash shrugged. "Many things suit you. It would take a lot to make you look anything less than radiant."

There was that blush on her cheeks again and Andrea could have cursed under breath at the power he seemed to have over her. She breathed in deep. "You're flirting again."

"Can you blame me? Have you looked at yourself lately?"

She rolled her eyes playfully at him. "That's another thing I would have missed had you…" He knew what she meant and she didn't have to say anything. She shook her head. "Your flirting. You were always quite good at that."

"Oh was I?" Sebastian said with a cheeky grin on his face. "Should I compare you to the stars in the night sky?"

She pressed a hand to her mouth and stifled a laugh. "Oh dear lord."

"Or I should say that your laugh reminds me of a gentle breeze on a warm summer's day?"

Andrea shook her head at him, though the mirth and smile on her face were clear as day. "Please never become a poet. You'd be absolutely dreadful!"

Bash smiled at her and stepped closer to the current object of his affections. "Or perhaps I might tell you how lovely you look in the sunset." He reached forward and pushed a lock of her curly red hair behind her ear. Andrea's eyes locked with his then and neither bothered to move from their current proximity. There was electricity between them; it was jarring and familiar to them both. Not being able to help himself, Bash reached forward again and ran a finger over the delicate skin of her cheek and marveled at the softness of it. Andrea didn't move away from the touch like she should have done. Instead she reveled in the feeling and was willing to get lost in the moment with the only man that she had ever loved. In the back of her mind, she knew that she should have stopped whatever was beginning between them. But she didn't and she found that she didn't want to.

But then all too suddenly he pulled away.

Andrea frowned at him. "Sebastian…"

He let out a shushing noise as he pressed their foreheads together and looped his arms around her waist. "Just… let me have this small moment with you, Andrea." He murmured to her, his lips merely moments away from her own. "On my death bed, I thought of many things. I thought about not being to spar with my father anymore. I thought about how I would never be able to joke and laugh with my brother again. Hell, I even thought about how much I would miss Catherine being annoyed with my presence."

He opened his marvelous blue eyes to look into her vibrant hazel ones. The shudder that ran through her was pleasant enough that a sigh left her lips. "Do you know what I thought about most however? You." She opened her mouth to say something but it caught in her throat as he continued his declaration. "I thought about the first time we met. How you were a scared little girl in an unfamiliar place and yet you still dared to befriend the King's bastard when no one else would. I thought about our first kiss in the woods. About our rides together, every conversation we've had –meaningless and otherwise-. I thought about our love and how that no matter what happens to us… I want you in my life."

He reached forward and brushed the tear from her cheek that she didn't even realized had fallen. "You are my friend." He continued, his voice a mere murmur. "And no matter what happens, I want you to remain my friend. Through any fights, through heartbreaks, through duty and country. I want to be by your side in whatever way that I can. If you'll have me."

She stared at him for a moment, letting his words fully process. For a moment, Sebastian panicked with the idea that she would reject him, tell him again that they could never be. But then a wide smile stretched across her lips and she nodded. "As long as I can stand by your side as well."

He smiled at her. "Always?"

"Always." She said with an affirmative and determined nod. "This court is dangerous. We need to stand together. Even when you annoy me and try your hardest to get yourself killed."

He laughed a light hearted sound that brought such a strong feeling of joy through her body. In this moment, he wasn't a boy too serious for his own good, or the man whose heart she had broken. He was her Sebastian. One of her best friends and… truthfully probably the only man she would ever really love. Even if she couldn't have him completely in the way that she wanted to. It was better to have a little of him than none of him at all.

"Lady Andrea!" Sebastian and Andrea jumped slightly and looked over to a servant who rushed towards them. Sebastian took a deliberate step backwards to a respectable distance and when he did, she immediately missed his presence. The servant crossed to them and curtseyed slightly. "Lady Andrea, her Majesty Queen Catherine wishes to see you in her chambers immediately."

Andrea pursed her lips and nodded. "Of course." She looked back to Sebastian with a disappointed expression. "Duty calls."

"As it always does." Sebastian joked. "Go. We'll speak later."

Andrea gave him one final smile before she went off with the servant, leaving Sebastian alone with his thoughts.

~For Country and Blood~

"You sent for me, Your Majesty?" Andrea said as she curtseyed low before Catherine.

Catherine waved her hand and dismissed her guards and servants from her chambers, leaving just Andrea and herself alone. The lady in training raised a questioning brow at her mistress, but remained silent as Catherine crossed to her desk and picked up a document that rested on top of many others.

"I trust you more than many others, Andrea." Catherine said, walking over to the girl. "You do know that, don't you?"

Andrea nodded, a confused frown on her face. "I believe so, your Majesty, we share many secrets with one another."

"And you have never betrayed me." Catherine stated, placing the mysterious document into Andrea's hand. "Not for yourself, not for those you love. Your loyalty is something that I value in the highest regard. I simply hope that you will share in one more secret with me."

With those words, Catherine turned on her heel and headed back to her chair. Andrea's frown deepened as she turned her eyes down to the document and read what she recognized was written in Catherine's hand. The further down she got into the document, the more her eyes widened in shock and surprise.

"You're inviting Olivia D'Amencourt back to court?" Andrea asked in an astonished tone. "Why would you do such a thing? Last I heard, she was marrying a Duke on the other side of France."

Catherine nodded, her face stony and unreadable. "She was. Until someone let a rumor escape these walls of she and Francis' rather…," She rolled her eyes in disgust. ", Promiscuous activities while she lived at court. Her engagement was ruined as well as her reputation."

"That doesn't explain why you would invite her back." Andrea continued, feeling herself grow a bit irritated. "You hate Olivia. I heavily dislike her. The girl did everything in her power to keep Francis drunk and always in her presence. I'm sure I don't have to remind you how many important meetings that Francis missed while she was here. The last thing I would expect is for you to readily accept her back to court."

Catherine sighed and her icy expression melted into one of genuine concern. Not for Andrea, she realized, but it looked as if something had been weighing on the Queen for quite some time. Andrea, without permission, crossed and sat before her mistress, tossing the letter to the side forgotten. Catherine reached forward and took Andrea's hand in her own, and to the girl's shock, they were shaking. Andrea wouldn't believe it if she wasn't witnessing it now, but Catherine de Medici was scared.

"On the day that Madeline arrived, you speculated that Nostradamus told me something that made me loathe Mary." Catherine said. Andrea nodded in acknowledgement, remembering when she questioned the Queen. Catherine sighed. "You were right. He did tell me something, a prediction of the future. A future I must stop by any means necessary."

Andrea stared at the woman in shock. She knew that the Queen relied heavily on Nostradamus' counsel, so much so that when the Flying Squad couldn't get the information she needed, she'd turn to the seer. And so far, everything that he had told her had come to pass. "What did he see?" She asked in a small, quiet and scared voice.

"…He told me that Mary would cost me the life of my first born." Catherine said. A chill ran up Andrea's spine as she stared at the Queen in shock. "He said that if Francis marries Mary, he will die. And I cannot allow it to happen."

The information seemed like too much to process and not enough at the same time. All of the events in the last few weeks suddenly made sense, Catherine's hatred of a girl she had a hand in raising, her distaste of Mary and Francis spending any time together. It was all to save her son's life. Catherine was a woman who loved her children with everything that she had. She loved them enough to burn down all of France if need be. It was no wonder that she would ruin the Queen of Scotland to make sure that Francis lived. And if Andrea was being honest, she didn't blame her.

"That's why you've been trying to get rid of Mary." Andrea breathed out, trying to comprehend what exactly had been said to her. "You sent Colin to her room. You… Did you have something to do with Tomas?"

Catherine scoffed. "And cost the lives of hundreds of French soldiers? Certainly not. His plan to take Mary from here was only slightly in my favor. The man was fool."

"But you were behind the plot with Colin." Andrea said, not asking but acknowledge the fact that Catherine was just as ruthless as she was rumored to be. "You told Colin to take her virtue and wanted me to testify that Mary was ruined… But then he was found out."

"A fault on his part, not mine."

Andrea shook her head. "It wasn't pagans in the woods that killed that boy. It was your soldiers… You told me that Mary invited Colin into her room."

Catherine frowned and looked down at their joined hands. "I did what I had to do to protect my son." She said with unwavering conviction, her fiery eyes rising to look at Andrea once more. "And I didn't tell you the truth of my plans because I know you. Despite all that I have taught you and all that you sacrificed, you could never be like me." She reached forward with a sad smile and moved a lock of hair from Andrea's face in a motherly fashion. "You are an innocent in this court. No matter how well versed you are in these games, you have a good heart. And I know that your good heart would not allow you to sabotage the Queen of Scotland in the way that I needed you to."

Andrea pursed her lips, tears stinging her eyes at the woman's heartfelt words. "If you had told me that Mary would cost Francis his life, I would have done everything in my power to make sure that didn't happen."

"Even kill the Queen of Scotland?"

Andrea opened her mouth to argue that she would have gladly killed Mary to save Francis, but she found that she couldn't. She couldn't truthfully say that she was capable of taking a life, even for her dear Francis. Something in her wouldn't allow her to own up to such a thing. Catherine took her silence for what it was, the truth that she wouldn't kill for her.

Catherine smiled then, a proud yet sad expression written on her face, but still a smile nonetheless. "I won't have you kill Mary, we are beyond that. But it is because of your loyalty to my son that I tell you this now." Her smile dropped from her face and was replaced with a sneer. An anger and heat bubbled within the Queen that rivaled that of the sun. It wasn't the typical Catherine Medici temper, no; it was a mother's temper when the lives of one of her children were threatened. "Mary will cost Francis his life. I don't know how, I don't know when, but I do not that as long as she has a presence in French court, Francis' life is in danger. We need to get rid of her and since we can't outright banish her from court…"

"You have to find other means." Andrea continued for her, her tone low and soft. "Like bringing back Olivia. Francis' first love."

"If there was anything that wretched girl was good at, it was getting and keeping Francis' attention." Catherine said determinedly. "Once she arrives, the wheels will turn without a stitch of work from us. Mary will be gone from Francis' heart and Olivia will be the future Queen of France."

Andrea sighed. "And then we'll have to deal with Olivia for the rest of our days."

"For the rest of Francis' days." Catherine corrected her. "And there will be many, many days left for him to live and enjoy if I have anything to say about it."

Andrea bit her lip thoughtfully, feeling just the smallest flicker of guilt in her gut. Mary didn't deserve whatever she and Catherine were prepared to inflict upon her. Truly, she was a kind and naïve girl. But, unbeknownst to her, she was going to be the cause of Francis' death and that was something that Andrea could not tolerate. No matter how good she was, no matter how kind she was, she was a threat to her best friend. She couldn't allow it. Andrea watched Catherine pour two glasses of wine. "Will God forgive us for what we're doing to Mary?"

Catherine gave a small, amused huff and shook her head, placing one of the goblets of wine into her hand. "If he does not, I'll happily walk into hell with my head held high knowing that I protected my son. I would risk my immortal soul for him."

"…Then I offer my immortal soul as well, Your Majesty." Andrea uttered, raising her glass expectantly. "For Francis."

Catherine smirked and clicked her goblet against Andrea's in a silent agreement. "For Francis."