Ok, chapter 13... here we come. This one will be quite the rollercoaster of emotions, but hopefully things will start to make more sense. Thanks for reading and reviewing! I so appreciate you all. ~ Sweet R.

Chapter Thirteen: Prophesies

Francis entered the pitch-black bedchamber and waited for a moment until his eyes adjusted. After crawling beneath the covers, he put his hand on his wife's shoulder and gently kissed her cheek. Mary's body stiffened for a moment at his touch and then relaxed. She was still awake but her silence told him she wasn't in a talking mood. He'd come to bed late for the third time that week and she obviously wasn't pleased with him.

He rested his head on the pillow beside hers with a sigh and wrapped his arm around her growing abdomen. His daughter responded with a tiny kick. Francis smiled and moved his hand a few inches to the right. She responded with a harder kick and something that felt like an elbow. Before too long Mary's belly started moving like the ocean.

She let out a soft groan and her hand partially overlapped his. "Be nice my little princess. I can't sleep when you insist on kicking me all night long."

Francis let out a soft chuckle as the baby continued moving. "I'm sorry, my love. It's my fault."

"No. Don't apologize. She misses you." Mary turned to face him and laced her delicate fingers through his. "I miss you."

His lips found hers in the darkness. Then he leaned back and caressed her face. "I miss you too. It's a week until Christmas now. So, I promise they'll be no more late nights for a while."

"It's not only that, Francis. Even when you're here with us, you're not really…here. I cannot dismiss the feeling you're keeping something from me. I need to know…is it Navarre or England…or both? If things are getting worse, please tell me or I'll assume the worst."

Francis paused, remembering his meeting in Antoine in Navarre several weeks ago. His cousin still harbored a grudge against Bash for nearly breaking his nose at the harvest festival and since Francis defended his brother, Antoine refused to negotiate.

"Tensions are rising, yes," he admitted. "And English forces continue to gather in Navarre. But I believe we will find a way to have peace again eventually. We've always navigated through impossible situations by working together before. I believe we'll endure through this one as well."

"So that's it?" Mary asked, her voice tainted with a hint of doubt.

"Yes," he lied and gulped back his emotions, grateful for the veil of darkness hiding his face. He couldn't erase Nostradamus' sorrowful gaze from his memory. The vision he'd shared with him could not be repeated, especially to Mary. It would only make things worse.

"Thank you for telling me the truth and don't worry, Francis. We'll think of something and there will be peace between France and Navarre again. I believe we can do anything, as long as we're together." she whispered and kissed him.

Francis wrapped his arm around her again and soon after, he could tell by Mary's steady breathing that she'd fallen asleep. However, sleep continued to evade him hours later. He stared into the dark void as a helpless feeling consumed him. Francis had spent the past few months trying to prevent war with Navarre and possibly even England but nothing could prevent the third and invisible foe sneaking up on them in the shadows. He didn't know how it would strike, but one bitter truth stayed forefront in his mind, tormenting him. They were running out of time.

…

Mary woke up gasping for breath and stared at the tapestry on the wall. What had seemed so beautiful yesterday— a vision of their happy future— now seemed eerie and foreboding. She turned toward Francis but he remained fast asleep.

Careful not to wake her husband, Mary arose and headed to Nostradamus' chambers. At first, he'd only planned to stay for a few weeks after her fainting episode but now he appeared in no hurry to leave. It seemed strange to her since the seer had tried his hardest to get away from Catherine.

After Mary knocked, Nostradamus wasted no time opening the heavy wooden door, almost as if he'd been expecting her. "Please come in, your majesty."

Mary shut the door behind her and paced the room, running her fingers over the various shaped bottles on a low shelf hanging on the wall. "Thank you, Nostradamus. I realize it is terribly early, but I need your help."

"Has your sickness returned? I have other medications and tonics…"

Mary shook her head. "No, I'm actually feeling much better." She sat in a nearby chair and drew a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage. "I need you to interpret another dream for me."

Nostradamus gulped and his face turned deathly pale. "Queen Mary, I'm here to care for your medical needs as well as anyone else living in this castle as long as I'm needed. However, my days as a seer are over."

"No, that cannot be. I need you to use your gift now more than ever," she pleaded.

He turned his back to her and hung his head. "'Tis not a gift, my lady… but a curse."

Her hand gently reached for his shoulder. "How can you say such a thing when you saved the king of France? My husband would be dead if you hadn't been there to interpret my dream before."

Nostradamus turned with red eyes and a pained expression, sending waves of concern through her. "Yes, I may have saved the king of France, but at what cost? How many innocents will have to die in his place?"

Mary stared at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

He clenched his jaw. "Consider the price of seeing the future, my lady. I know it all too well. Because of my curse I had to watch my wife and children die of the plague dozens of times before it actually happened." Tears dripped freely down his face as he spoke. "I was powerless to prevent it from happening. Powerless, because death can only be delayed, not stopped. There is always a price."

"Always a price." She gulped as his words filled her stomach with dread but Mary refused to give in. "But Olivia. You saved her from the plague by sending her to the new lands. She's alive and well."

He nodded and a faint smile curved on his lips but it quickly faded. "Yes, I was able to save Olivia. I still have visions of her sometimes, married and happy in the new lands. She's expecting a child now and…" His voice faded away.

"See?" Mary said. "I know it must be painful to not be with her, but at least you know she's alive and well, right?" He nodded but remained silent so she went on. "All I'm asking for is a chance to save my family and our people. Please help me, Nostradamus. I'm begging you."

He stared at the ground for a long time and then let out a deep sigh. "Very well."

"Thank you. I am in your debt."

Nostradamus flinched, as if her words caused him agony. "Please, Your Majesty, do not thank me. I am not worthy of your gratitude." He braced one hand against the mantle above the fireplace and hung his head. "Tell me the dream."

Mary paused for a moment to slow down her pounding heart before speaking. "After Francis survived his accident at the chateau, I've been having visions of our future…a different future. I've seen our child…a girl with my dark hair and Francis' eyes and curls. They're at the chateau playing in a grassy field."

He turned his head toward her, the ominous firelight glowing over half his face. "Only Francis and your daughter?"

Mary nodded. "Yes, like the tapestry I made."

At her last sentence, Nostradamus turned pale again and his eyes filled with sorrow. "And have you had any other dreams?"

She gulped, recalling the troubling images in her mind. "Yes, just this morning. I saw Francis holding our newborn daughter. She was only minutes old and so beautiful but Francis…" She bit her lip, unable to continue.

"He was weeping," Nostradamus finished. "Yes, I've seen it."

Mary's eyes widened. "And war in France, but mourning in Scotland… and a royal procession through Edinburg. Have you seen those images too?"

He nodded as beads of sweat rolled down his face. Mary had never witnessed the seer looking so distraught. "Yes, I've seen it all."

Mary swallowed hard and stared at the tiled floor, remembering his earlier statement. "There is always a price." Her entire body trembled when she finally looked Nostradamus in the eye again. "Do you believe this dream foretells my death?"

He avoided her gaze. "There's something you must understand, Your Majesty. Visions are never set in stone. Stealing a glance into the future is like throwing a stone into a pool of water. It makes a ripple effect. Just think about all the choices you've made since deciding to travel to the chateau with Francis. One different choice changed everything."

Mary clenched her jaw, weary of the seer's riddles. "Please answer my question. Is my life the price for saving Francis?"

Nostradamus looked at her again, his eyes clouded with tears. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but yes, I believe it is."

Mary had heard enough. She stumbled into the hallway and down the long winding corridors of the castle in a daze. At first her heart fell into despair, but the further she traveled away from the seer's chambers, the clearer her mind became. It was peculiar, but she almost felt relieved. Mary knew from the beginning if she ever had to choose to save Francis' life or her own, she would always choose him. Now at least he wouldn't be alone. He would have something to remember her by. Their beautiful daughter.

When Mary entered her chambers again, Francis remained asleep where she'd left him. She crawled back into bed. Because of her large belly, she had to curl into an awkward position just to rest her head on his chest. His steady heartbeat and warmed soothed her soul.

He stretched beneath her and yawned. "Mary?" he murmured— his voice rusty from sleep. "You're cold. Did you just return to bed?"

"Yes, I went to see Nostradamus."

"Nostradamus," he repeated, his voice low and flat. "Why…"

"He told me everything, Francis," she interrupted. "I know what you've been hiding from me."

His heart pounded faster in her ear and his arm tightened around her. "You do?"

She ran her fingers over his chest. "Yes… and no matter what happens, I want you to promise me something."

"What?" He held his breath.

"Don't let your heart grow bitter after I'm gone. Our daughter is going to need you."

"No," he choked out, moving from beneath her head and shifting his body so they were lying on the bed face to face. His fingers smoothed back her hair and outlined her face. "No, Mary," he said again with trembling lips and his blue eyes clouded with tears. "I've been busy contacting physicians and experts from all over. They will be arriving soon and providing you with the best care. I'll fight for you Mary, but you have to fight too."

"Francis…" she whispered and gently wiped his moist cheeks. "Is that why you've been absent so often the last few weeks and staying up so late?"

He nodded in misery. "Yes. I'll go to any lengths for you, Mary."

She released a weary sigh. It warmed her heart, Francis was so devoted and determined to try and save her. Alas, she feared his efforts were all in vain. "Let's not waste our time trying to stop the inevitable. I want to spend my last days in peace with you. Only you."

Francis kissed Mary and pulled her even closer, burying his face against her neck. "Please…please don't give up," he sobbed.

She tangled her fingers through his golden curls, sobbing with him, but managed to speak eventually. "Don't despair. I'll be happy in heaven watching over you and our daughter."

He leaned back and caressed her cheek. "Don't you see? I cannot survive without you. You're my light."

She managed to smile with trembling lips. "And I always will be."

"Then promise me you'll fight, Mary. Please."

Mary squeezed her eyes shut as a tear escaped and she rested her forehead against his. She didn't wish to give her husband false hope, but couldn't stand watching him suffer either. "I promise," Mary whispered. "I'll fight."