Drowning: A Reign Fanfiction

Chapter 17

Darkness pooled around me, sheltering me sight as I stared at the stars. The sky was pitch black, freckled with small balls of light that, from the bridge, appeared as little more than tiny bulbs.

"What are you doing up here?" I heard the amusement in the familiar voice, and like a pathetic fool, I turned around with a joyous smile and open arms.

"Bash!" I cheered as I ran up to him and embraced him with a warm hug that was long and unbefitting for a queen. I couldn't care less.

"I was wondering when it would be my turn to see you," he said. His eyes were identical to Francis'. They were so blue and striking that staring into them made me feel like he was boring into my soul. Though, now, they held some sort of fog that unsettled my stomach and made them appear haunted.

"I'm so sorry I didn't seek you out sooner. I wanted to . . . settle things before I did anything else," I said, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Did you settle things?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow skeptically, and I couldn't hold back a sigh.

"As well as I could, under the circumstances," I mumbled. "I told Francis I want him gone." I turned my body towards the stone wall railing of the bridge, and once again, I looked at the night sky.

Bash followed my movements so he was standing beside me.

"Gone is an interesting choice for words," he commented.

A dry laugh pulled from my lips.

"You mean as I could want him gone, away from the castle and France with it, or gone, as in dead."

"Not quite. Those are very cut-throat desires. I doubt you truly want either. Human emotions, our deepest desires rarely fit into boxes, Mary. You wanting him gone is as simple as you choosing to put the past behind you, and not many people are strong enough to make that decision."

I looked at the palms of my hands. It was easy to imagine the blood that would have stained my hands, had my plan of stabbing Conde come to fruition. If General Renaude's men hadn't ambushed my guards and I in the forest, there would be blood on my hands, a stain that I am not certain I would have ever removed.

"I would have killed him," I whispered, eyes still glued to my palms. "If Conde was in that forest, if I had gotten close enough to hear his breath, I would have driven a dagger into his chest, not certain whether he would live or die."

"Mary," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "you were only doing what you must. You had every reason to believe that killing Conde was the only solution. You shouldn't blame yourself."

"I don't blame myself. I'm not certain that I blame anyone, even Conde," I said. "As twisted as it may sound, this whole ordeal with Conde and England reminded how flawed people truly are. All we do is act in our own self-interest at the expense of others. The crown I wear, is it a symbol of strength and power? Or is it the symbol of all of the blood that has been spilled from the slit backs of my people."

"It's both."

"What am I supposed to do with that?" I turned my head until I met blue eyes. "Everything I once believed about what it means to be a queen is tainted. I was a fool to think rulers start with a blank slate. The moment we sit on a throne, all of the burdens and sins of the past fall to our feet, and nothing we accomplish during our reign will ever be enough to salvage the damage that has already been inflicted. For all of the good Francis and I achieve, we perpetuate the sins of the past, and our people will suffer for it. How can I sit on a throne again and be content knowing this?"

Bash frowned and placed his hands on the bridge's railing, bracing his weight against it as he leaned forward.

"A throne and a crown have never been what's made you a queen, Mary." He peered over his shoulder to look at me. "The day you were born, you were a queen, and you have remained one ever since. Whether you sit on that throne again or not, you are still Scotland and France's queen. You always have been."