A/N: This was written very quickly and is unbeta'd and will remain so for a while since I am writing purely from inspiration and don't have time to work on finding a beta. Please be respectful with reviews and don't hate me for what I'm going to do in the next chapter...

"Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful - it was just red." - Kate Rokowski

Mary rode out of the castle gates, once again completely alone. Somehow after all this time, her heart was the one thing telling her to stay in the castle with Francis, her head telling her to go to the Prince of Condé. It had occurred to her to use his love for her (if he hadn't yet gone mad and had any left) against him and secure Francis' throne, but after thinking about it for hours she saw this as a way of making peace with Elizabeth and finally settling the infighting in Scotland. She would marry a Protestant king allied with England. It helped her decision that even after his betrayal to Elizabeth, he was still the first in her heart. Though she couldn't bear to see either Francis or Louis killed, she knew that if she stayed with Francis she wouldn't be able to guarantee Scotland's existence and her safety with Elizabeth's power growing so rapidly.

She took one last look behind her at the flickering lights of the castle. By the end of the day tomorrow, it would all be over, and she would either be marrying a man who loved her more than he loved anything or her head would be mounted next to his on a spike on the palace gates. She prayed that she was making the right choice - to protect herself, Scotland, and possibly the unborn child she could be carrying. She had already prayed for forgiveness – if the sins she was about to commit could be forgiven.

"You there! Identify yourself!" came a shout as she neared the military encampment.

"I am Mary, Queen of Scotland and France. I demand an audience with King Louis," she replied, her voice unwavering.

She could not let on how terrified she was – of the nearing events and now, of herself too.

The man shouted something to one of his peers and began to lead her horse into the heart of the camp. They stopped in front of a large tent, which obviously belonged to the newly proclaimed King of France. She dismounted and steeled herself to face Louis as she entered the tent.

"I told you not to disturb me," he exclaimed, but as he turned and saw her his face softened.

"Mary…" he said, looking at her in bewilderment. "Leave us," he ordered, turning to the guard standing by the entrance to the tent.

"Francis told me what you said… That you wanted to keep me safe. That you wanted to take the crown and make me your wife," said Mary.

"That's all I've ever wanted…"

"I've come to tell you that that's what I want too."

"No, what sort of trickery –" started Louis.

"No! It's not a trick, Louis, please. You know I loved you, and real love never fades, not truly. You have to believe me," exclaimed Mary.

"You've chosen him over me time and again," said Louis, his voice full of pain.

"He is my husband and I don't want harm to come to him, but I can't be with Francis, not anymore. I have chosen to forfeit whatever love I had for him because as a queen, I have a duty to my people – the people of Scotland. If Francis wins this fight – if he holds onto his crown then I will lose everything. My fate, my death, will be sealed."

"Francis would never let that happen to you, no matter how much you hurt him."

"There may be evidence of our affair… Of our love and my treason that even Francis could never pardon," Mary began.

Louis looked at her, knowing what was about to come.

"I haven't shared a bed with my husband in months, and yet…" Mary paused, knowing she was overplaying the situation both for him and for herself, trying to justify her actions. "Louis I think I am pregnant. I might be carrying your child. Please, Louis, if Francis wins, I will lose my head, my country, and possibly an unborn child. My choice is not only about love, not this time. It is about my country and my duty as queen to do right by my people. If I marry you, France will have a Catholic queen and Scotland will have a Protestant king. It could end the conflicts in both our countries."

His eyes filled with tears of happiness as he took a step toward her "Mary…"

Mary reached into her cape and clutched the handle of her dagger. With shaking hands, she drew it and pointed it at her stomach.

"Don't come any closer – not yet," she said, feeling pain at the look of horror on Louis' face.

"I will not do this if I don't have to, but I have conditions – conditions that must be met, otherwise I am of more use to my people dead than alive."

Louis nodded, unable to speak seeing the love of his life ready to kill herself.

"You have to promise that you will marry me when this is all over, and that you will protect me from Elizabeth at any cost. She wants my head and I don't know why but I cannot lose it, not to her. You must make every effort to spare innocents within the castle. No woman should have to suffer what I suffered. And finally, you have to kill Catherine. I don't care how, but as soon as possible. Once she learns of what I've done, there will be no end until one of us is dead."

"I want to trust you Mary, but how do I know you won't betray me?" he said, his voice full of the pain she had caused him.

"I took an enormous risk coming here, because I believe in you, and I trust that you can win this fight," replied Mary.

"I agree to your terms. Mary, I would do anything for you. Please, put down the knife," Louis' voice was beginning to falter.

Her hands trembling uncontrollably now, she dropped the knife. She wanted to cry – but now was not the time.

Louis walked up to her slowly and pulled her into his arms.

"I just wish it didn't have to be like this," she said, a sob escaping her throat.

"A child – with you…" he murmured into her hair.

Mary pushed him away slightly.

"Louis, there might not be a child. I didn't have sufficient time and methods to check without arousing suspicion…"

"It doesn't matter. If there isn't one now, then there will be soon enough," he said, kissing her.

Despite her uncertainty and fear, she found herself kissing him back.

"We don't have to be careful anymore," she said, as his eyes filled with love and lust and he pulled her closer.

Soon, they were lying in bed breathing heavily, their limbs intertwined.

"I was so afraid – I still am," said Mary. "By this time tomorrow, I will either be an unmarried woman again, waiting to marry the love of my life – or our heads will be mounted on spikes above the palace gates. But somehow, being with you – I'm not so afraid anymore, because you will be with me, no matter what."

"We will succeed. Together. As soon as Francis is… dead," Mary winced as she heard the words. "We will be married, and by both the Catholic and the Protestant church if we can."

Mary buried her face in his shoulder to keep herself from crying.

The next morning was a blur. Mary stood next to Louis as he gave final orders to the many lords now under his command. She felt so many eyes upon her that it took everything she had to stand with her head tall next to the man she loved.

I am a queen, she reminded herself.

"Spare members of the royal family if you can – they will be useful hostages if need be and if not they will be executed publicly. Innocents should not be harmed unless it is unavoidable. We are men of god, and we must prove that to all of France today," said Louis, the men around him erupting in cheers with shouts of "Long live King Louis!"

After addressing his troops, Louis pulled Mary aside as he donned his armor.

"You'll join me at the castle when it's safe but… if anything should happen to me, my servants have orders to get you to Scotland safely. God willing, I will send for you before the day is through."

He began to mount his horse as her voice rang out.

"Louis, I love you. Godspeed."