There are moments in life when events beyond your control shift everything around, presenting a crossroads. One road leads down the initial path that fate had intended for you all along while the other would twist the world upside down and change the course of destiny for all time. This is one of those times. [ I do not own Reign or the concept for the characters I only manipulate them to fit my own imagination!]
A small crowd gathered round drawn by the piercing scream that had rent the relative peaceful silence of the castle halls. Whispers and horrified gasps echo off the marble staircase punctuated only by the shouts of the guards, a barely contained chaos in the midst of mystery and tragedy. Her body lay sprawled out at the base of the stairs positioned much like a ragdoll that had been thrown from the top. Her eyes stared blankly off in some direction; she might have been simply laying on the tiles had it not been for the ever expanding pool of blood that was slowly creeping outward from her body. The scandal and intrigue of it all had the surrounding members of court buzzing, eyes darting between the body and the four ladies that knelt down beside her.
Amidst the maelstrom of disorder the ladies of Scotland huddled around the small and broken body of their once vibrant friend. Their grief was palpable, tears running down their lovely faces as they struggled to understand her abrupt and meaningless death. Perhaps most markedly did the Queen of Scots mourn, sobs escaping her in desperate gasping breaths. Even in her stricken state she was a lovely sight to behold, her sadness edging her dark beauty to perfection affecting everyone that happened to look upon her in her wounded state.
Pitifully the Queen stroked the face of her fallen friend, her long fingers stained red with blood. Guards bustled across the grounds trying to make sense of the fall, many speculating that she had been pushed while the other half insisted she had slipped. Heads turned from the grisly scene to observe the approaching Dauphin his hurried steps carrying him across the halls where he halted his face dawned with a mixture of horror and compassion. Unerringly he moved drawing in close to no doubt comfort the Queen, however she jerked away as if sensing his approach, one hand clutched to her stomach while the other raised to ward him off. She was a despondent angel, crushed by the follies of men.
Her heart contracted painfully in her chest, her breathing becoming more and more difficult with each icy inhale. Tears poured unchecked down her cheeks as she gently stroked the soft blonde braid that framed gentle Aylee's face. Desperately she bent over her childhood friend searching for a way to stem the flow of life that was spreading, the violent red stain that was greedily eating the smooth tiles along the floor. Her mocha hues locked with those brilliant hazels, eyes that danced with mirth and a tinge of innocence but hid the heart of a true Scotswoman: determined and resolute till the end.
Mary, Queen of Scots, was no stranger to death and yet felt a helpless sort of desperation as she held her friend. Slowly she watched as the light grew dim, flickered, and was extinguished, her spirit fleeing from the broken shell with one last labored breath. A violent sob ripped through her accompanied by a fresh wave of tears, her forehead falling to rest on the chest of what was once one of her few links to home. She felt the presence and heard the tears of her other ladies sharing in her grief.
Slowly the sounds of the crowd that had gathered around filtered in the whispers echoing loudly off the cool stone. Sitting up her red, puffy eyes met that of her remaining friends, the expressions on their faces further driving home the ache in her heart that threatened to choke her.
The moment she had beheld Aylee his voice had echoed through her mind, the last nail on the coffin of the future she had been hoping for so desperately. The moment she'd realized what was happening the voice of the healer/seer had drifted through her mind confirming the fourth prophecy he had foretold on that fateful day. She had no doubt that Lola, Greer, and Kenna had all been thinking upon similar lines, how could they not?! Heavy footfalls reverberated from down the hall no doubt bringing closer the one person she least wanted to see in that moment.
You will never see home again.
His voice whispered to her maliciously just as Francis came through the crowd his worried blue eyes taking in the scene in an instant. Immediately he moved to join her side in an effort to comfort her no doubt. Mary, acting on instinct drew back, the back of her hand placed over her mouth to keep more humiliating sobs from escaping. Why did he have to be so perfect? He pressed forth again this time brought up short by her hand. She couldn't have him there, couldn't have him comfort her when her heart was broken, shattered into a million pieces. It made what she had to do so much harder.
Gathering enough wits to stand Mary fled from the scene, fled from the man she loved and the dreams that had fostered in her heart so tenderly. She was at the crossroads torn between being selfless and selfish. Her country was counting on her to secure their safety and while France was her best bet to achieve that it could mean sacrificing the life of its future King. Then what? She'd be back where she started and have the death of the man she loved on her conscience. The other option was she leave, leaving him and the safety France offered and strive to save her country some other way while forsaking the love that she had found here.
Neither option was ideal, both roads were fraught with perils and potential tragedy, so which road did she take?
"Where will you go?" Greer quickly fastened the last few buttons on the riding dress making sure it would be secure for the journey ahead.
"I'll follow the country roads through the smaller villages till I get to the coast. I'll hire a ship to take me back to Scotland. Pack your things for I'll send for you once I arrive home." Her lithe fingers completed the long braid securing it with a small band as she turned taking her satchel from Lola. She'd chosen her black and gold riding gown with care, the heavy material would be ideal if she ran into harsh weather while also allowing for riding full saddle.
"Please be careful." Lola entreated, worry written all over her lovely face.
"I won't be coming back to Scotland Mary. You will always be my Queen but I will not leave Henry." Kenna stated her peace, a haughty expression on her face as if she were fully expecting some argument from her. Mary simply shrugged, having no mood or inclination to argue with her friend, nor did she have the time. Greer, having moved to the doorway, was looking down the hall check when the coast would be clear finally turned into the room. "The guards have moved away, it's now or never Mary."
One by one she hugged them all before slipping out the door of her room, taking her first steps toward fleeing France. For every step that carried her toward the back entrance of the castle, another inch of her heart was being sewn up. Her hopes and dreams for a future with Francis gathered up and locked away inside a tiny box that she pushed to the very depths of her soul never to see the light of day again. Her presence put him in danger and she would not sacrifice his life for a brief time of happiness, better they both find some measure of peace apart.
Glancing around every corner the Queen of Scots hurried through the castle intent on the stables and her ride toward home, all the while her heart was turning to stone within her breast.
"What have you done?!" He hissed at her, pulling her over to a secluded alcove in the hallway, his blue eyes searching the area to insure they wouldn't be overheard. There was no mistaking the fear and worry that lingered in his mother's eyes. She accosted him in the middle of Court, a place she loathed going because the people were vain and shallow. Not to mention the King's Mistress wasn't necessarily a prime figure in the hierarchy of French nobles and diplomats. To add further suspicion she was dressed in traveling clothes, her cloak fastened about her neck as if she was on her way out the door.
"You have to leave, WE have to leave. Now." The tone of her voice left no room to doubt that she was serious, her movements agitated as she glanced nervously up and down the hallway. "Long before he arrived here Count Vincent and I were in talks concerning various things." Her expression was guarded and yet slightly guilty at the same time. "Catherine somehow gained possession of them and threatened to take them to Henry." The mere implication that any information had fallen into Catherine's hands was terrifying given her penchant for chaos and cruelty but from the sounds of it this was the worst of the worst.
Sebastian tried to make sense of what she was saying, a sudden dread gripping his heart though he didn't have all of the information. Anything in Catherine's hands was dangerous, her adeptness at twisting and turning things to her benefit was legendary. Still, his mother and Catherine de Medici had existed for years in a sort of begrudging peace. What could have transpired between the two that Diane would feel threatened enough to flee from the man she loved?
"Concerning what?" He knew his mother had some friends in high places, people who appreciated her place in the King's bed and the favor she received from him. Diane de Poitier was also renowned for her compassion, often using the riches that her status afforded to her to help those less fortunate. Her quiet and unassuming nature made her a favorite among the gentry and often a source of advice for those seeking the King's attention.
"There are some who believe that Francis is not fit to be heir that France and her Allies would fare better with a stronger King. You are the eldest son there is no reason you shouldn't be Dauphin." In her eyes sparked the fierce love of a mother, the complete conviction that her son could do no wrong rang strongly in her quiet voice.
Bash paced a short distance away, his agitation and confusion fueling his movements. "You always said he loved us more because we never ask anything of him, we never expect anything! What's it say that we, that I, now want his crown?!" Raking a hand through his hair he turned back toward her abruptly. "You're talking about changing the line of succession. And that's the kind of talk that gets bastards – and mistresses – beheaded." He took a breath struggling to understand the reasoning behind such a reckless action. "Why?"
"Because everything you want will be yours if you are named heir." With that one simple statement understanding and comprehension passed between mother and son, and any vestiges of anger were dashed away completely. Of all the people in his life his mother knew his deepest desire, the love he held fiercely within his heart, fostering with occasional glances, stolen moments, and a deep friendship that promised more had the circumstances of life afforded him better.
Sebastian nodded his mind quickly shifting to accommodate the current situation which was his precarious situation. "Where will you go?" Diane had never been prone to exaggeration or making a hasty decision so when she said they needed to leave, they needed to leave with all speed. He worried for her, worried for her safety if Catherine was out to get her and had the kind of ammunition she was in possession of.
"I'll head to Paris. I have family friends that will be able to conceal me and if things escalate I'll go to an old friend in Belgium. You must head to Spain. We have family there that will take you in, hide there until I send word."
Given the severity of the situation he had no time to pack beyond the essentials for travel and could be ready to ride out within an hour. His familiarity with the countryside and the woods would gain him speed, already a route chosen in his mind. Voices faintly drifted toward the pair, both heads turning in their direction with worried and anxious expressions. Mother and son gazed back at one another before embracing one last time. "Be safe." They uttered in unison with one last smile before heading in opposite directions.
With quick sure fingers Mary haltered one of the large black stallions easily leading the large beast out of the stall. Tying him to a post she turned intent on grabbing a saddle only to stop short at the figure standing only a few feet from her. "Bash." Mary's heart pounded in her chest as she took him in, one hand covering her stomach out of nervousness. Her mocha orbs darted around the stables, noting with some slight relief that they were deserted with the exception of present company.
Likewise his own eyes weren't idle, quickly surmising her intent to leave based on the rumors he had heard whispered among the staff he had slipped past on the way here. The castle was in an uproar, Francis and Henry were frantically searching for the misplaced Queen of Scots. "Going somewhere?" He raised a brow, a slightly amused smile on his lips.
"I'm going back to Scotland. I will not be responsible for Francis's death nor will I continue to be a pawn in Henry's lust for power." She saw no reason to lie to him and had never felt compelled to lie to him either. Over the last few months Bash had become a true friend and confidant, someone she trusted implicitly and held in high esteem. Still she wondered how he would take her news, if he would try dragging her back to the castle or let her go.
"Good." Thankful and elated that she had given him honesty Bash turned and walked back to a stall grabbed the reigns of his saddled white dappled mare and lead her over to where Mary stood looking slightly dumbstruck. "I'm going with you." Handing her the reigns the two smiled at one another a spark of kindred spirits flying in the air.
Quickly Bash saddled her horse, all the while aware that each second put the guards searching for the Queen closer to discovering them. At last he had things settled and helped her into the saddle, mounting quickly after her. Pulling up his mount beside her he looked into her eyes with a questioning expression. "Are you sure about this?"
Mary could feel her emotions roiling, her stomach in knots, and a giddy euphoria as she stood on the cusp of her decision. Once she started down this path there was no going back, even if by some miracle she ended up back with Francis their relationship would never be the same. Henry would never fully trust her again and Scotland's alliance with France would forever be tainted with her departure. Still her reason was justified.
The Queen nodded her head, kicking her heels back to spur the giant animal beneath her into motion. Bash was right with her pulling out slightly in front to serve as a guide. Together the pair thundered through the back gardens, cut across the lawns, and made a break for the front gate. Shouts went up from behind them mingling with the dust that was rising in their wake.
"MARY! MARY!" She heard his shouts, his voice rising even above the palpitating of her heart. Even as the distance increased between them there was no mistaking the pain in Francis's voice as he pleaded with her. She'd chosen this, chosen to put his life over her wants and needs and would stick to it come hell or high water. Resolutely Mary shut out everything but the road ahead of her, its twists and turns hidden from her eyes as she hurtled at breakneck speed toward it.
More to come so stay tuned! And please tell me what you think! Reviews and critiques are welcome!