Reign oneshots

The last night before the end

marie de guise and catherine spend a night together before the beheading (this is a pairing not just friendship, I read a  fic with this pairing a while ago and found it interesting so decided to write something with it aswell).

"Are you scared?"

The dark-haired Scot traced a pattern around the lines of the French queen's palm.

"I wish I could say I was."

The blonde smile sadly, taking her companions slender hand in her own and brining it softly to her lips.

"You have many hundreds of people who are going to turn up to your beheading tomorrow just to revel in in the glory of your death and you have no fear? Somehow, I admire that."

The 'king' of Scotland gently pulled the Italian-blooded woman to sit next to her, no longer content with having the woman sit in front of her and needing to feel her warmth at her side.

"I wouldn't. I'm not quite sure I can feel anything anymore; not even anger at your daughter."

The French queen turned her head to face the Scot. The look in her eyes scared the foreign queen. The hazel eyes, usually alight with a fiery passion, were dull and listless, void of all emotion, just as the woman said.

"I wish with all my heart that there was something I could do."

"Something that wouldn't start a war you mean."

"Yes."

A soft sigh sounded from the blonde's lips.

"I don't know if I do."

The Scottish queen allowed a tear to roll down her cheek; something she'd never do in any company but this woman's.

"Please don't say that, Catherine."

"Let's forget about tomorrow, we only have tonight. I don't want to spend it thinking about my beheading. My son will be safe and I will be dead."

The brunette queen nodded and stood abruptly, leading her companion to the middle of the cell.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to kiss you in the silver moonlight until it fades and the warm dawn breaks, dancing the night away to music only we can hear."

Finally, a sliver of a smile graced the Italian woman's features.

"You've grown poetic in your old age."

"Come here."

The Scot wrapped her arms around her companion's waist, holding the blonde close to her. In turn the blonde place her head over the place where the other woman's heart lay, covered and protected by layers of flesh, blood, and bone. The French queen savoured the warmth radiating from the brunette, chasing away the bitter cold of the tower.

A pale hand ran through the blonde hair of the Italian-blooded woman. The French queen raised her head, a dreamy smile crossing her face as she stared into the glistening eyes of her lover. She closed her own, desperately trying to capture every part of the woman's face in her mind's eye, trying to ingrain every line, every colour, every detail of Scottish queen into her head.

She stood on the raised, stone, podium, listening to the list of treasons her cowardly husband had made up against her; the only real one being adultery, but then, hadn't he done the same? It didn't matter, she was the woman, the one who would always end up shamed for anything she did.

Guards on either side of her lead her forward. She had no chains on, but even so she wouldn't run. Her time was over and she was tired. She knelt down. At least the chopping block was new, she wouldn't have to share blood with a stranger whose sins she had no knowledge of.

The axe was taken out behind her, the widened eyes of the crowd alerting her to the sound of footsteps tapping closer. She fought her body, working hard to stay still as stone, unmoving before the scrutinising gazes. The executioner stood beside her; she could see his black robes out of the corner of her eye. A horrid, dark, colour, but fitting for the occasion. She took a breath and searched the room, finding the one pair of eyes she needed to see; the pair of eyes that were the last things she wanted to see.

And when she was asked for her last words, it was to these treasured eyes that she spoke the secret of her heart.

The axe was lifted. She released the breath she had been holding. Tears gathered in her own eyes but she refused to let them fall. She would not show this weakness in her final moments.

"I love you."

She repeated the words hoping the woman they were meant for could hear them across the crowded room.

"I love you."

She whispered as the axe swung down.