A/N: My very first Reign fic, yay! If something is historically inaccurate, oops. All info I get from Wikipedia, because I'm lazy. Also, if you're a Mash/Mabastian fan, please stand up and introduce yourself. Or at least send some good Mash fics my way.
Summary: The path that Mary, Queen of Scots is walking may be an unfortunate road indeed. Surely she has some idea what Fate has in store for her. [oneshot]
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, be they completely fictional or modeled after a real person.
Warning: Character death, general nostalgia for Mash.
The walk down the corridor was somber in its silence. Her servants, Jane and Elizabeth, trailed closely behind her, faces drawn. Her heart pounded in her chest, a caged bird. Around one more corner...and the guillotine stood before her, tall and proud. The blade drew her eye. A deep breath, to calm her heart.
"We beg your forgiveness, Mary, Queen of Scots." Soft words drew her attention to where the executioners knelt before her. She smiled softly, ever gracious.
"I forgive you for now. I hope you shall make an end to all my troubles." Her thoughts drifted to people from the past, those long dead, whom she'd barely thought of in years. She supposed it was only natural to think of them. She would be joining them soon. Her mother. Francis. Aylee. Kenna. Countless others. Some of whom she'd ordered to be killed. She wondered briefly if they would have their revenge in the afterlife.
She glanced up, eyes catching those of someone on the fringes of the crowd. Intense green eyes peered into her soul, despairing at the sight of her upon the platform. She smiled softly to that person, the one who'd stayed with her through everything, right up until the end, just as he'd promised so long ago. She dreaded leaving him behind to be alone in the world, but it was inconsequential. Wherever she was going, she would wait for him. No matter how long it took for him to join her. Their gazes remained locked as Jane and Elizabeth and the executioners helped her remove her outer clothes.
"I've never had such grooms before, nor have I ever put off my clothes before such a company," she said. She smiled softly, gazing out at the crowd assembled. Once more she sought the gaze of the green-eyed man, wishing for them to be the last thing she'd ever see. There. A flash of gold at the edge of her vision. The blindfold. She did not let it distract her. With one last satisfied upward tilt of the lips, she let her eyelids slip closed, and felt the blindfold being tied around her head.
With his face imprinted upon her mind, she knelt on the cushion and set her head firmly on the block with her arms stretched outward, readying herself for the blade.
"In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum.*"
There was the sharp creak as the lever was pulled, a swish as the blade fell, and then the world went black.
• • •
Nostradamus woke with a start, sitting straight up in his bed. Breath coming fast, heart pounding irregularly in his chest. Never before had a vision been so vivid, so clear. It was imperative that he warn his Queen as soon as possible. He must return to France immediately. He disentangled himself from blond hair and began to rise from the straw-filled mattress.
Next to him, the girl reached out, hand groggily seeking for him.
"What is the matter?" Olivia asked. He glanced back, and the sight of her, laying there gazing upon him so sweetly, with such concern, calmed his heart. He took a deep breath.
After leaving France in a desperate rush, fleeing the wrath of Queen Catherine, he'd wandered aimlessly for weeks, perhaps months, until he'd found himself on the border of Italy. Still he wandered. Until that fateful day when he'd been walking through a town market, and looked up from a zucchini stand directly into her eyes. They agreed that surely this was Fate's way of telling them to be together. So after that day they remained at one another's sides, never straying too far should Fate change her mind.
She smiled softly and tugged him to lay back against the bed. He reluctantly allowed it. From what he'd seen, the vision would not take place for many years. He could afford to rest awhile.
A/N:
*For those of you whose Latin is a little rusty, the phrase Mary uttered just before the blade dropped means "Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit."
For the life of me, I can't remember if Olivia was supposed to be going somewhere specific, but I will re watch the episode and edit if need be. Feel free to drop a line if you so desire.