Deception
Were Mary not desperate, she would never do this. She had, not so long ago, shouted at Bash and Francis and fought them both over asking her to deceive Conde, and yet here she was now doing it again, and this time on her own, without either of their knowledge. But she was desperate. She had to save France, and this time, she was choosing Francis. Conde had betrayed her, had betrayed his nation. She had never thought it would come to this.
She hoped that Bash had listened to what she had told him, and had given the package to Greer. She had told him how important it was, but hadn't clarified, and that was because it was crucial that as few people as possible knew what she was going to do. Francis would hopefully catch on once her plan was in motion, and would come with his men.
She could hear Conde shouting at the man that had brought her to his tent, and shaking her head, she moved forward and pushed the flap aside, stepping into the dimly lit area as she removed her hood. Conde was standing over a map, and he froze when he looked up at her. "Mary," he breathed, seemingly stunned to see her.
How her heart hurt for what she was about to do to him, the level of deception. He loved her, that much she knew, even if he had made terrible choices and mistakes. But as much as she cared for him, she loved Francis - she had tried so hard to tell herself that it wasn't so, but she did. She would always love him. Lola was right. Mary had confused gratitude with love, and they had all suffered for it. Now, Conde was going to pay the steepest price for her error and for his own.
I did love you, I did. Once, she promised him silently.
"Leave us," he told the man.
She waited until he was gone, and finally spoke. "Francis told me what you said," she said, speaking breathlessly, both because of her own anxiety and in an effort to appear excited to be with him, in love. "That you wanted to keep me safe, that you wanted to take the crown and make me your wife."
"That's all I ever wanted."
"I've come to tell you that's what I want to," she said, looking up at him with what she wanted to be a hopeful expression.
Conde shook his head, stepping back, and her heart nearly stopped. What if she failed, and he didn't believe her? France would be lost. Francis would be dead. "No. What sort of trickery-?" he began.
"Louis, it's not a trick, please!" She stumbled over her words. "You know I loved you, and real love never fades, not truly." It wasn't a lie, she thought to herself. It didn't. Her love for Francis would never fade. "I can't be with Francis, not now."
"You have chosen him over me time and again."
"He is my husband and I don't want harm to come to him." She stepped forward. "But something has happened. If Francis wins this fight and he keeps his crown, my fate is sealed. My death is sealed."
Conde stared at her, bewildered. "Francis would never allow that to happen to you, no matter how much you hurt him."
Mary shook her head. "There is evidence of our affair - of our love and my treason, evidence that even Francis could never pardon." This was it. This was where her plan would begin. "I haven't shared a bed with my husband in months, and yet still..."
She drew a deep breath and plunged forward. For France.
"Louis, I am pregnant. I am carrying your child. Please, save me."
