Short and not quite as fluffy as it should be, I know. Unfortunately, I've lost connection to the series – I hope it will change once I'll get to watch season three (though it'll break my heart) but for now, this is it. Thank you for reading, and happy writing and reading to all of you! And happy new year!

They started to walk, Bash leading the way towards a place only he seemed to see. Francis smiled and reached for Mary's hand and she took it, smiling back at him with a thousand butterflies tumbling in her stomach. The endless blue seemed beautiful now, and she felt more weightless, more careless than she'd ever been since her childhood. Or maybe not even then. They didn't talk much but Mary noticed both men glancing at her sideways from time to time, then sometimes looking at each other, smiling.
Once she shot a questioning glance to her husband but he only grinned and shook his head, and when she turned her head to Bash she found him serious, the lines on his face deeper than before, but not of bitterness.
Her throat went taut. "What is it?" Despite Francis' hand in hers, despite the truth of their love shining through her, Mary felt anxious. Something was yet to be done, or to be said.
Francis gently let go of her hand. "It's alright. I understand."
"I don't!" She turned from one man to the other, feeling an old impatience and anger rising inside her. It had been just like that when they were children – whenever Bash was allowed at court (and the Condés were gone), he would team up with his brother; against Mary and Claude, against the king, against the world. They had always been so close, closer than she and James could have ever been. The only thing that ever got between them was…

"Oh my god…"
"Mary." Francis took her face in his hands, gently forcing her to look at him. "It's alright. It is not your fault." The smile that hadn't faded since he'd seen her again got brighter. "You're just amazing, and we both know that."
"But I… I…" Mary felt tears in her eyes. "According to Lola, we are…"
"We wait for those we love most. For our true soul mates. Yes." Bash's voice was calm, controlled. "Surprisingly enough, Kenna was not mine." A sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Mary looked down. "I'm so sorry. I know that…"
"Mary, for the thousandth time – stop feeling responsible for everything", Francis cut in, extending his hands to both of them. Hesitantly, Mary took his and reached out for Bash. He seemed to want to take hers but then dropped his hand. "Not like that."
"Bash…"
"It's not that easy, Francis! We can't just make this a triangle!" Bash shook his head. "It's alright. Maybe I'll just go alone. Or not at all. I still don't regret a thing."

It hit Mary like a blow in the stomach. "You really love me."
"As I've said, countless times." Bash smiled sadly. "You are Francis' true love, and mine. But only he is yours, so…"
"I won't accept that", Francis said firmly. "You are my brother. I will not leave you here."
"You can't take me with you! What are you going to do, stay here forever?"
"If that's what it takes, yes." Mary squeezed her husband's hand.
It didn't matter where they were, not as long as she was with Francis. And she was not ready to leave Bash, not again.

Bash stared at them in disbelief. "You're crazy, both of you."
Francis grinned mischievously. "I guess we must be related."
"Tell her – tell him – could you please…" Whatever else Bash had wanted to say was drowned in the sound of a door opening behind them. Pearly light shone over the three of them.

Francis beamed at Mary. "I think it's time. Are you ready?"
She leaned towards him and kissed him. His hair lay soft on her skin, his eyes wide open. "I love you."
"I love you too." She touched her forehead to his and sighed. Then she pulled back, grinning at both of the men she loved. "Race you to heaven!"