To My Love

To My Love: Boom

My mother rose from the bed abruptly and ran to the pounding sound on the door. "Open up, Mary we know you are in there." The men shouted from the other side of the door. She ran to the bed and shook me fully awake. "Wha-" I said as my mother cupped her hand over my mouth. My eyes widened with realization. They were coming for us. The men who need to protect my father's legacy by making sure that his bastard doesn't become lagitament.
I quickly but quietly got up from the bed and put my clothes on. They were still damp from being washed the night before but they were wearable. "Mary we will knock down this door. We just want Ruth.". Once I heard my name my heart dropped to my stomach. My mother ran to me quietly and held my face and mouthed the words, you need to go.
I caught consciousness of my gaze and shook my head no. I wasn't going to leave her to these men they would most likely beat her or even hang her for what she has done to save me. She looked at me and said quietly "You are the rightful heir to Scotland. Go take your throne." And kissed me on the forehead roughly.
A tear rolled down my face and hung on my chin. I hugged my mother goodbye and opened the window. Looking back at my mother with a face of confidence was the most I could do for her. She smiled at me as the the men kicked down the door.
Boom.
Boom.
Two shots right into her chest. I screamed in terror and fell out the window. On my way down I closed my eyes and pictured her smile. Her beautiful smile that I would never see again. My back hit the mud with a pounding agony. A wave of pain went up my spine, and a ringing began in my ear. I squinted my eyes shut and held my head. I wallowed in the mud and watched carriages pass closely by my head.
Until I remembered I had to run, I slowly lifted myself from the mud and leaned against the stone wall. I limped quickly, staying close to the buildings so I could hold onto the walls. Picking up the pace and looking back every few seconds. Could they have heard my scream? I hoped they had thought it was my mothers dying screams that they heard.
One thing that I knew was that I had to follow my mothers dying wish. Claim my throne. There is no ruler in Scotland at the moment, just the queen mother watching over things.
My father was married to a woman named Ashta. She was the queen while my mother and my father were having a secret love affair. After my mother was with a child she told Ashta in hopes she would abdicate and the king would marry her. But instead of abdication, Ashta killed herself with my fathers pistol. The royal guards cleaned it up and said she died of a unholy womb. After that my father was scared of my mother and me and kept us quiet with money and a noble label.
Ashta and father never had any children and my father never remarried. So that left me the bastard child, and ever since the Kings death, my grandmother (the queen mother) has been trying to have me killed so that I won't claim the throne and disgrace the nation with a bastard Queen.
I began to gain my strength back and walk without the support of the old buildings. My back still had a sharp pain bolting through it when I walked, but it was tolerable. My feet began to ache from the holes in my boots. Soon my feet began to get wet and cold from the mud flooding into them.
Out of all the seasons it could be right now, it has to be winter, what a damn delight. My ears began to ache from the cold, so I pulled my hood over my head. As I kept walking, I felt myself step on something in the mud. It couldn't have been a rock it was too small. I lifted my foot and looked down into the mud. A white piece of parchment was smashed and covered in mud between my boots.
I picked up the brown and white piece of paper and wiped it on my cloke. It had blurred writing on it that looked like a name. A very strange name, it was written in a beautiful cursive. It was my mothers writing. She must have put it in my hood when we hugged goodbye. I took a closer look at the writing and tried my best to word out the name.
"E-" "sra" I looked at it one more time and said it in my head. "Esra?" I was clueless who Esra was but then I saw the last name. I knew that name "Mackenzie" his or her last name was Mackenzie which was my mothers old maiden name. My mother was married before to a man with the last name Mackenzie, before I was born and before she met the King.
She used to tell me story's about him but never told me his first name. Maybe this was his whole name and she wanted me to find him. I prayed he would know what to do when I found him.
I felt like an orphan even tho I was 23 years of age and most women my age are married and have children. I was just dealt a path of different ways. People walked passed me like I was going to mug them or rob them in their carriages.
I walked by all the houses in the village and through all the allie ways. Grimy men whistled at me as I walked by like I was some common whore. Non the less it was a way to make money and it was the only way I was good at. But I resolved from those ways. I didn't want to feel dirty anymore or guilty or useless. I just wanted to sleep tonight and dream of the mums.
I laid down in front of a house with warm glowing windows and used my bag as a pillow. I curled my legs up to my chest and closed my eyes. Dream of the mums. Dream of the chrysanthemums.