Absence (Reign)

Free Bird

The wind was colder than usual that night, as if even Mother Nature was grieving the absence. Mary woke up suddenly during the night, reaching for someone who was no longer there. The reality of it hit her again, as it had everyday since he'd left. She was alone and he was gone.

She felt her eyes well up, but she forced the tears back. She had made her decision to save his life, but he had called her foolish. With a deep breath, she pushed the covers back and slid out of her bed.

The stone floor of her chambers was cool against her bare feet and she padded towards the door, grabbing a robe on the way out. With a groan, the large wooden door opened, allowing the queen to quietly slip from the room.

King Henry did not approve of her wandering the corridors late at night, but she didn't care- not anymore at least. She tried her best to keep her eyes straight ahead, but she couldn't keep them from straying. He was everywhere. Every hallway, door, and window had some significance that brought her mind back to him.

Nostradamus had warned her that their marriage would somehow cost him his life. She wouldn't have believed it if it weren't for his accurate prediction of Aylee's death. Tears threatened the eyes of the young queen again as she thought of the dear friend she had lost. She couldn't lose him as well.

Bash wasn't particularly happy with her either. His legitimization would take time, but in her eyes it was worth it. Bash would learn what it took be a king, and it would definitely take time to get used to. As she made her way to her favorite spot, which looked out over the water and French countryside, the wind picked up. Her eyes closed, and she was brought back to their final conversation.

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"It's superstition, Mary! You're throwing everything away for superstition!" He was angry, and she began to cry.

"Francis, I know Nostradamus's visions hold truth. Please just trust me!" The tears were full fledged now, and though it pained him to see her cry, he was too angry to stop.

"So you're just going to marry my brother instead? We've fought to be together for so long, and you are just giving up? That easily?" His blue eyes were dark and stormy, the emotion in them very noticeable.

Mary was quiet. She couldn't find the right words to say. He closed the distance between them, looking her directly in the eyes. "I'm telling you I don't care about these predictions. Isn't that enough?" His voice seemed to soften, but the anger in his eyes was still present.

"I can't, Francis. If marrying you means losing you, I can't do it. I won't." She held her ground, and even with the tears on her cheeks, she was still the girl with strong opinions that he loved.

He stepped away from her, eyes on the floor. Exhaling deeply, he raised his head to reveal tears of his own. Mary wanted to run to him and make all of it go away but she was rooted in place.

"If this is what you want, I won't interfere any longer." And with this statement, he turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

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The wind was almost painful now, biting into Mary's fair skin. She hadn't cried since the door was slammed on her that day, and every night since then had been similar to this one. Restless and lonely. Bash had offered to stay with her, as they would have to eventually, but she had declined the offer. It would be right.

Kenna, Lola, and Greer had been supportive thus far, but Mary could tell they just wished her to be happy- and in order for that to happen, she needed Francis.

Mary turned to face the wind directly, and it pierced her body harshly. She was the queen of Scotland. She had a duty to fulfill, people to protect, and an alliance to keep in mind. She could not let him continue to permeate her brain.

It was at that instant that she opened her mouth and screamed his name into the wind, letting all of her emotions out with a single word. Banishing every memory of him she had, every feeling he had ever made her feel, and all the heartache she was feeling.

Turning away from the wind, her eyes were dry and she held her head high. She was Mary, Queen of Scots, and she felt utterly, and completely, empty.