The young Queen of Scotland sits basked in the sunlight that pours through the window, thinking deeply about what to do about Francis and the prophecy until she is interrupted. It was as if she summoned him with her mind, for it was he who interrupted her thoughts with his voice.
"Mary." he stated. He said her name like nobody else. She turned to him, getting up from the seat upon the window ledge, walking towards him with slow steps, not so sure he wasn't angry enough to launch himself at her.
"Thank you for coming." she stated quietly, nervously fiddling with her rings upon her nimble fingers. She looked up from the crumpled skirts and up to Francis' eyes. He seemed indifferent, stunned, but he didn't lash out at her like she imagined he would.
"Is this about Bash?" he paused. Mary nodded once. "My father just told me that he'll kill him if you don't marry me. And still you refuse?" he seemed to perplexed and breathy that all Mary wanted to do was to try and make him see the reasoning's for her actions, for the mixture of hurt and love in his eyes threatened to destroy her.
"Yes." she breathed. "I'm sorry." she stated quietly, remembering their excitement for the wedding a week ago. It brought a chill to her spine, remembering his contented smile. If only it could stay that way.
"This is insane." he stated bluntly. "How far will you go to destroy us? I don't even understand why, Mary. We were so happy and in love just one week ago, and now-" she cut him off.
"But it will destroy you otherwise!" she cried out, unable to stop remembering the prophecy as it rolled over her skin like a horrid oil. He will be cold to your touch. You will be wed, but childless. It was her worst nightmare that would come to life if she didn't save him.
"What?" he asked, not quite surprised. Perplexed, definatley.
"Please, hear me out." she pleaded, walking closer to him. "I want to explain myself. I want you to understand why I left you. It wasn't for lack of love, or joy, or trust in you. It was because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you." she stated.
"That makes no sense." he breathed, shaking his head from side to side.
"Nostradamus had a vision -- Of your death, brought about by me if we wed." she bluntly stated, not letting the fear she felt for that premonition come to life.
"You left me over a prophecy?" Now he seemed angry. He walked towards her.
"One that I believe. I couldn't take the risk of being wrong!" she cried out. God, did he not realise she was ready to destroy the world if it meant keeping him safe? She would life a life of misery if it meant keeping him safe from her.
"This is madness!" he snapped, his own anger getting the best of him. She knew.
"I know, I thought so too. I didn't believe it, I didn't want to, but, I knew that Nostradamus's visions had weight, even before he predicted Aylee's death." she rushed out, her heart beating faster in the cage of her chest as he looked deep into her eyes.
"Her fall?" he asked, his brow high up upon his forehead.
"Hours before it happened." she insisted, wrapping her arms around herself.
"When the king finds out-" she cut him off again.
"No, you can't tell him! He will burn Nostradamus alive, for heresy, or treason -- both charges apply, not to mention-" Mary trailed off.
"My mother." he realised. "She was behind this as well."
"All her crimes against me were because she loves you. Does she deserve to burn for that? She would do anything for you. And I would, too. I will not be the cause of your death." she decided strongly.
"And Bash? Shall he die in my stead?" he asked, walking closer to her, reaching out for her wrist.
"No, of course not!" she gasped as he gripped her in a strong grip. Not tight enough to hurt her, but tight enough to make sure she knew she wasn't going anywhere until he got what he wanted out of this conversation.
"Because my father is determined. You will wed the next King of France, or he'll lose any chance of England." he paused, taking her other wrist in his hand. This grip was gentler, safer. "Mary," he breathed, running his fingers across the skin of her hand once more. He had thought that he'd never feel it again. "you cannot let superstition, or fear, rule your life. You must be the ruler... Taking charge of your own destiny. Marry me." he insisted, coming in closer to her. He released one of her wrists, cupping the soft skin of her face. Mary turned into his hand, pressing kisses onto his warm palm. He seemed eager to press on, breaking down each wall of defence. "Now, before my mother or Nostradamus can poison you with fear, pressure you-" she cut him off, shaking her head.
"You are pressuring me." she insisted, trying to take a step back, but he pulled her right back to him. She seemed clouded immediately. He smiled a little at her.
"Ah, because I am right. And my mother is wrong to believe in this nonsense." he stated, their faces inclining towards each other. She looked up into his eyes, her fear and apprehension evident in those golden pools he so adored.
"B-but Aylee," she stated, remembering her loyalest little Lady who had been so cruelly taken from her.
"Mary, you don't understand. Nostradamus examined her body, she wasn't just pushed. She was poisoned." he pushed.
"What?" she tried to pull away, but he pulled her right back into him. He walked them backwards until Mary's back his a small wall, forcing her to stay right where she was.
"She was, he said so. You can ask him yourself. Somebody killed her to scare you into running off. It was not Nostradamus' prophecy that killed her. It had to have been my mother." he stated.
"But she-"
"Would kill anybody if it meant keeping me safe from his sorcery and magic." he rolled his eyes. Mary bit her lip. "I'll talk to Nostradamus. He'll recant. I'll make my mother see things sensibly. I'll take the risk. This is my life, my risk. Once you get past the grief of Aylee's death, you'll see." he breathed out. She seemed unsure. "I would gladly live a short life if it meant that I got to spend however long I had left at your side. You know that. I would die for you." he brushed a lock of hair away from her face. "I would do anything for you. I love you." he insisted. Mary looked away. It sounded so perfect, he sounded so perfect. So brave and courageous. But she'd never grow old with him, never have his child in her womb. As if hearing her thoughts, Francis cupped her face and forced her look at him. "Nostradamus is a physician. He cannot see the future, the future is always changing. Marry me, Mary. Marry me and be happy with me." he insisted. He would forgive her for her fears if she would only walk the isle to him.
"B-but your mother-" she cut herself off. It was true. If she married Francis, Catherine would kill her.
"She wouldn't dare lay a hand upon you, not when she knows how much you mean to me. I told her once, that if anything happened to her, I would be lost to her. That still reigns true. Marry me, now. We will be happy, regardless of how long for. All that matters is that we love each other and we can provide a better future for our people. Say yes. Please."
"Okay."
