This is a two parter. Most of it was written prior to 1X05 so I went back and edited it to make it compliant with the latest episode. I wanted to do this all in one shot as I normally do, but I'm swamped with school, work, practices, and generally being sick. Hopefully within five or six days I will have the second chapter up.

Disclaimer: I do not own Reign or any of it's characters, nor the Nancy Griffith song referenced in the title and summary

Mary watched the dancers from her spot next to the wall, internally seething with rage. That was not exactly the truth, she admitted to herself. It wasn't as if the dancers as a whole infuriated her-just two in particular. The Dauphin of France and the Lady Olivia. They were dancing for the third time that night, and she cursed them for how good they looked together. The lady's blonde hair and fair good looks matched Francis' angelic coloring absurdly well. The image of them moving so in synch on the dance floor led to an imagining of where else they could move in synch; it was not a thought Mary wished to dwell on, but it constantly invaded her mind nonetheless.

Francis had been broken hearted when Olivia had left court? Broken hearted over a low ranked lady whom he knew he could never marry? And yet his rationale for not allowing himself to love her was that it was not set in stone that they would marry? After Mary's negotiation with the King of France, it was only a matter of time until the wedding date was announced.

"You look at though you are ready to spit fire." A low voice murmured in her ear.

Mary gratefully tore her eyes from the dancing couple. "How could he do this? I thought things were going so well!"

Bash smiled at her. "Men have short attention spans. Once my little brother has gotten over his nostalgia, I'm sure he will return to you."

As they spoke, the music ended. King Henry rose to his feet and called out over the hall, "Francis, I believe your fiancee is feeling neglected."

Mary watched as Francis bowed to Olivia, his hand lingering on hers. When he finally turned to look at her, his eyes darkened when he saw her standing with Bash.

The bastard son leaned to whisper in her ear, "I'd love to stay and hear what Francis thinks of all this, but I believe the lovely Lola is looking for a partner."

She smiled up at him, only partially because she knew it might upset Francis. "I plan to get some enjoyment out of this evening. I can only hope you do as well."

He bowed and slid into the crowd just as Francis reached them.

"Mary." Francis said shortly, eyes darting between her and where Bash had been enveloped by the crowd.

"Francis." She returned just as shortly, her displeasure with his behavior making an immediate and sharp return. "May I help you?"

"Yes, we are to dance." He said imperiously, holding out his hand. Mary considered his hand for a long moment, before returning her eyes to his.

"My lord, I don't particularly feel like dancing tonight." She held her head high and shoulders stiff. "I believe I will retire early. Goodnight, my lord."

Each my lord made Francis' eyes grow stormier, and before she could push past him, he grabbed her upper arm. Mary stared for a moment at his grip-it was the first time he'd ever been anything less than perfectly gentlemanly in his physical reactions to her. Even with his temper high, however, he caused her no pain; apparently Francis was only careless in his romances.

"You cannot just walk away from me." Francis kept his voice low with a deliberate effort. "The king has commanded us to dance."

Mary took a deep breath. "I am a Queen. I feel insulted and outraged, and there is no power on earth that would make me dance with you tonight!"

Apparently aware of the attention they were gathering, Francis dropped her arm. To the room at large, he announced, "Regretfully, the Queen Mary is feeling under the weather tonight. She will be returning to her bedchambers now."

The crowd parted for her, and she walked as gracefully as possible through the crowd, waving off Aylee and Greer when they attempted to come to her. At the moment, all Mary wanted was solitude.

Fortunately, that was exactly what she got when she reached her rooms, and Mary took a moment to breathe deeply and revel in the silence where no one was watching her for her every reaction. She raised a hand to push her hair back behind her ear, and was surprised to find that it was trembling. She was actually trembling with rage. In the past few months that she'd been at French court, Mary had felt many things. Fear-when it was clear someone wanted her dead. Sadness-when Francis told her he wouldn't allow himself to love her. Thrilled-when Francis kissed her so passionately by the lake, and again when he had declared himself hers. And powerful-when she stood up to the king and her uncle to take control of her marriage negotiations. This feeling though, this was new. She had never felt so angry, possibly in her entire life.

Used to dressing herself from the covent, it did not take Mary long to escape her suffocating ball gown and slip on her night shift. Of course, it was at the moment that her door burst open and a wild eyed Francis stormed in.

"Where is he?" He demanded, eyes taking in her undressed form and then turning to scan the room. As Mary watched baffled, he peered behind her curtains, her dressing screen, then tore open the door to the passage way and peered in. "Where is Bash?"

Heart pounding, wide eyed with confusion, all Mary could say was, "With Lola, I presume. What is the meaning of this?"

Francis stopped his erratic searching, and spun to face her. "You...and he...were flirting in the ball room. He whispers in your ear, and then you both disappear? My own brother, Mary, really?"

Indignant, she drew herself up to her full height. "I beg your pardon. I don't like what you're implying."

He took several quick steps closer to her. "I don't like the idea of you and Bash having an affair!"

"Me!" She exclaimed, shocked by the thought. "An affair? There are two people in this room, one faithful and one not, and I can assure you I am the former!"

"Was that what tonight was about? You were jealous of Olivia?"

Mary had never wanted to hit somebody as badly as she wanted to hit Francis in that moment. "Considering my lack of wild accusations and invasions of privacy, I don't think you can say I'm the jealous one!"

"I'm not jealous!" Francis protested immediately, stepping back. "I was concerned about your virtue."

"Yes, just as you were concerned about my safety with Tomas!" She exclaimed loudly. "Your fits of temper are acceptable as protectiveness, but my justified anger at your blatant infidelity are written of as womanly jealousy?" Tears sprung to her eyes as she continued, much softer now. "You won't let yourself love me, and you won't let anyone else either. I only want your love, and you expect me to sit by and smile while you shower it upon another woman? I cannot do that, Francis. I can't."

Her voice broke at the end, and embarrassed by her admittances, she turned away so she could avoid looking him in the eyes. Back turned, she waited miserably for what he would say next.

"I saw you kiss him." Francis' voice was low and hard.

Back still turned, Mary stilled, and tears filled her eyes. "I was drunk, and miserable. It was a mistake, and I am so sorry." She whirled back around because he needed to see the truth in her face. "I was upset after our argument, and he was kind to me, but Francis, I regretted it as soon as it happened."

"I never wanted to hurt you, Mary."

It was not the right thing to say. She did not quite know what she needed to hear, but it wasn't that. "You did." She took a shaky breath. "Please leave me. Please."

Perhaps it was the plaintive tone to her voice on that last 'please' but seconds later the door opened and shut, and Mary was alone again.

Francis had often felt disappointed in himself, frustrated that he wasn't more like his father, upset that he was still so helpless in the games of court. He had never before felt self-hatred, never before now. He had made Mary cry; he could hear the tears forming in her voice. Why he felt so upset with himself was where the confusion began. Love, whether it mattered or not, took time to grow and develop. He had only gotten to know this new, adult Mary for a few months, which, yes, was long enough to know that he liked her, that he wanted her, that her happiness and well-being mattered to him, and that someday he could possibly love her. But it wasn't long enough to fall in love with her by now! Surely it wasn't. And Olivia, well, in retrospect, he hadn't loved her, he had been carried away with the awakenings he experienced with her for the first time. He had wanted her to be his mistress, and was going to ask her to be when she fled the court for her new marriage. And yes, he'd been hurt when she left him, and yes, he was glad to have her back. That should have been the end of the story, so why did the thought of Mary sobbing all alone in her chambers tear at his heart?

As instructed, Olivia was waiting for him back in his bedchambers. Like his fiancee, Olivia was undressed when he entered, but unlike Mary, the blonde was lounging seductively on his bed, wearing not teary eyes but a coy smile.

"I hope you were thinking about my offer." She said, rising and slinking over to him. "I certainly was."

For a moment Francis contemplated sending her away, but then he remembered his fiancee and brother kissing by the lake, and instead, he kissed Olivia as hard as could in response, hoping to silence not only her, but his inner guilt.

Although the act was completed, at the end of it, Francis felt no satisfaction. Instead he felt an emptiness inside, an emotional incompleteness that made him regret his physical exertions.

Olivia didn't seem to pick up on his mood; instead she snuggled closer, putting her head on his chest. He didn't caress her in response, just stared at the ceiling and wished he had handled all of this better.

It was all of two hours after she had risen that Mary heard from Court gossip that Olivia had spent the night in Francis' bed. She caught Kenna's eye at breakfast-and Kenna quickly and deliberately looked away. With Francis steadfastly ignoring her, and her closest friend having abandoned her, Mary had never quite felt so alone. Even Bash, whom she had started to become close with, was off limits. It was evident Aylee was right and he had feelings for her. She had apologized to him, and made it clear that nothing more could happen between them, nor did she wish it could. Aside from the brief conversation had the ball the previous night, there had been no interaction since her apology.

Her heart ached for the mistakes that she had made. Francis would never forgive her, and she was unsure if she could forgive him the pain that he put her through. With no forgiveness, there could be no love, and without love, their marriage would be the bitter facsimile of the current King and Queen's.

Quietly, she ended her meal, and retreated to the chapel. If there was no sanctuary in friends, perhaps she could find some in her religion.

Francis thought he was more angry at Mary than at Bash. After all, he and Bash were brothers, and blood was thicker than anything. He thought all of this, at least, until he spotted Bash from across the courtyard, walking alone. Suddenly overcome with not only the fury of seeing his fiancee kissing his brother, but the pain he felt for hurting Mary the night before, and the guilt of sleeping with Olivia when he had no intention whatsoever of making her his mistress, Francis charged over to Bash-and punched him in the face.

Caught by surprise, Bash didn't react for a moment, allowing Francis to get in one more punch, before Bash cleared his head and swung back. He caught Francis on the jaw, and he wheeled backwards.

"You kissed her." Francis shouted, now not punching, but grappling with his brother. The two of them ended up on the floor, where worn out by the pain of the betrayal, Francis let go and rocked back. "You kissed Mary."

Bash clenched his jaw. "I did. We were drunk."

Francis laughed bitterly. "I've seen the way you look at her. Drunk or not, you want her."

"Well who wouldn't want her?" Bash replied vehemently. "She's beautiful and kind. Mary is the type of woman any man would want, any man would kill to have."

"I did kill for her." He reminded him shortly. "And I'm very close to doing it again."

Bash laughed at him. "Grand statements for a man who spent last night riding Lady Olivia."

Francis struggled to his feet. "Stay away from Mary. She is not for you."

Behind him, his brother called out, "Then you better make this right. She deserves better!"

The Dauphin did not look back. He had matters to attend to.

For Mary at least, hiding away in the chapel, and then in her bedchambers, the day passed without incident. It was only the following day that she was roused by Greer, who came shrieking into her room that Olivia was being sent away from Court.

She went to her window to find, indeed, Olivia was getting into a carriage that was packed with what appeared to be all of her trunks. Francis stood stiffly nearby, and when Olivia attempted a passionate embrace, he simply stepped away, and bowed politely.

"What's going on?" Mary demanded, looking at Greer. "What has happened?"

Greer smiled. "Francis found somewhere for Olivia to go. He demanded she leave. His mother is terribly upset, but he stood firm."

Mary twisted her fingers anxiously. "Why would he do that?"

"He has feelings for you!" Her lady in waiting insisted. "Mary, he's doing this for you!'

She turned back to the window to watch Olivia's carriage drive off. Before it was out of sight, Francis had already to turned to walk back into the castle. She could see his face clearly, and caught her breath at her first unobstructed look at him in days. Francis was truly beautiful, though she wondered how he had gotten that horrific black eye. Perhaps she should spend a bit more time gossiping-she seemed to have missed out on quite a bit. At that moment, the subject of her thoughts glanced up at Mary's window, and she caught his eye. For a long moment, they stared at each other, neither smiling, and inside, Mary wished for some sign of what was going on in his head. But as usual, his face was kingly in its impassiveness, and she was the one left feeling unstable. After a long searching glance, he strode back into the castle.

Mary turned back to her friend. "What on Earth is going to happen now?"

Tada! I hope you all enjoy it. I'm a Mary/Francis shipper FOR SURE, especially after that last episode. Bash is gorgeous but I don't feel the chemistry, and I'd like to see the show lay some more foundation as to how and when Bash developed these supposedly strong feelings for Mary.

Anyway, I sincerely hope you all enjoyed, please review, and please write some lovely Frary fanfic!

Also, I am definitely accepting challenges and prompts, though with the disclaimer that I may never have the chance to get to all of them.

Hearts, Hayley