Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Charles was in pain, but Nostradamus seemed to be content with his current state of health.

By the next afternoon he had begun to spike a fever which had not yet fully let up. Several times he gave them both quite a scare when it felt like his forehead was literally burning, but Nostradamus's knowledge and herbs been quite effective at diminishing the effects at least for a time.

Catherine had finally given into the pull of duty and gone to clean herself up enough to make sure that the kingdom was not burning in the visibly combined absence of their King and Queen.

Fortunately a majority of the 'problems' from the day before all but evaporated. Apparently word of the young Prince's mishap had spread and with the exception of one particularly persistent Noble the Court for once was quiet. He heralded from the area of Drome and seemed absolutely insistent on stretching her patience to the limit.

Finally tired of hearing his incessant talking Catherine simply walked out on him.

She might hear about it from Henry or even more from the esteemed Noble later, but for the moment she didn't care.

Deciding to stop by her rooms for a book Charles always favored Catherine was on her way out when she noticed a piece of paper nailed to the back of her door. It appeared to be a short poem from it's meter and length.

Wondering first how this got in here without her guards knowing she tore it down in order to give them a piece of her mind when the phrase itself caught her eye…

'Ring, a ring of roses'

Stopping where she was, she tried to remember where she had heard that phrase before.

Initially coming up blank she reread the whole thing in hopes of coming up with the answer she sought.

Still nothing.

The words fit, and she knew she had heard them before but she could not quite place it.

Deciding that it would come to her eventually she continued on her way, book in hand. By the time she made it back down to see Charles he was still running a fever and had fallen into a restless sleep. According to Nostradamus all was well in hand, but she knew how dangerous fevers could be.

It may be little more than a persistent illness, but she was still is mother and she worried.

-/-/-/-

She had eventually been pulled away by one of her ladies. The order she had placed and checked months ago with the kitchens was being prepared two weeks before the event was even due to take place.

Striding down there she stopped at the double doors leading into the kitchens and took a moment to prepare herself.

And then she noticed it.

Nailed to the door was a dead rat and behind it a note much like what she found in her rooms. Carefully pulling the note out from behind the animal she read another line written in the same handwriting as the first…

'A pocket full of posies'

It seemed to be a continuation of the first verse, but she still couldn't place it.

The dead rat however gave her chills.

Shaking her head and gathering her energy to take care of this supposed mishap she entered the kitchens with her usual bluster to finish what she came here to do.

Once done she decided to conduct an impromptu examination of the kitchens and noticed that they seemed particularly light on staff. Upon inquiring she learned that several of the workers had been unable to come in due to illness.

She made note of this but reminded them that even with a depleted staff, their most recent mistake was absolutely unacceptable and that she expected more of them.

Making her way down a particularly secluded hallway so that she could return to her sick son and was confronted with an ever disturbing yet not particularly uncommon sight. A servant girl was slumped against the hallway at an odd angle. Far too familiar with he look of death Catherine began to approach her.

Noticing a paper not dissimilar in size or shape to the first placed at her feet she picked it up and read the contents…

'Ashes, ashes we all fall down.'

Remembering where she had heard the phrase she looked more closely at the girls neck where sure enough she could see several large rose colored welts.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she finally remembered where she knew the verses from. It was a, English peasant's rhyme born out of a time back about two hundred years when the whole of Europe was infected with the greatest judgement they had seen before or since.

Plague.

There had been several more resurgences of the illness since that major outbreak and rhymes such as this had filtered all over Europe spreading across boundaries and languages as the sentiment was the same wherever the plague appeared.

Stumbling back and nearly running to see Nostradamus she made it there is record time.

Slowing herself just enough so that it would not look as if she had actually run the whole way she walked in to a most dreaded sight. There on several cots in the main room were several patients who appeared to be stricken with something not unlike what Charles had been.

The prince himself was in a room off of the main ones and so still separated but the sight only made her worries increase ten fold.

Briskly walking to find Nostradamus she non too gently pulled him off to the side and presented him with the three notes. He read them in order but instead of beginning to panic like she had he merely looked at them puzzled.

"Majesty I don't know that I would jump to that conclusion just yet. Certainly the number of patients I nowhere may point to such an epidemic, but I haven't seen…"

"This last note was found by a girl dead in the hallway, her neck clearly inflicted by something that looked an awful lot like what was seen the last time this blight marched through France."

"And I realize that the rate of infection is worrying, but I am still not convinced your Majesty."

Catherine again opened her mouth once again to counter him, but he beat her to it.

"Catherine, if I may. Should this indeed be the plague than there is nothing you or I can do for anyone down here, including the Prince. As I seem to be immune I will go and examine this girl as we as to continue to monitor things here."

Catherine tried to speak but he once again cut her off.

"Should anything definitive be determined or anything change I will let you you know. In the mean time, I believe it is your duty to ensure your own safety until we can say for sure what is and what isn't, yes?"

Turning as if to return to Charles side she froze mid movement and nodded slowly. Backing way and turning to leave the room she could barely stop the tears from falling from her eyes.

This could not be happening.

-/-/-/-

Nostradamus waited until the next evening to definitively send any word to the Queen.

Not plague.

He could not tell for certain but the dead girl's neck seemed to have been made to look like the telltale red welts after her death. What made his decision though was the fact that his current patient showed no further signs of their symptoms worsening.

A high fever, yes. But no welts or other marks and they were all still alive. more than twenty four hours since they had been admitted including the prince himself.

With Henry due to return either that evening or the next morning the Court had stayed quiet and the problems Catherine needed to handle the day before wisely chose to stay out of sight and out of her hair.

A certain flight of young distractions may have helped in this regard, but only Catherine needed to know this.

Catherine had in fact locked herself in her own rooms with instructions that she should only be disturbed if there was word on Charles or some other dire circumstance that required her attention.

As she had been with Charles not long before he began showing symptoms it was unwise for her to see anyone, especially her other children should she in fact fe infected.

When word finally came she rushed down to see her boy, barely able to keep the panic put of her eyes.

She needed to see for herself that he was alright.

She spent nearly an hour with him until he again fell asleep, in part because of his healing body and in part because of the herbs Nostradamus had been supplying at even intervals.

He would be fine, assured Nostradamus. They all would be fine.