Rebirth

Chapter 1

Mary watched everything being packed in trunks to be taken away to simpler chambers far from the lavish ones she had enjoyed just the night before. Although it was he that had crossed to the spirit world, it was her who haunted this castle. His presence both comforted and tortured the pale, raven haired woman who had lost everything in the span of a day.

The sun rose, she was a wife. The sun fell, she was a widow.

She walked over, retrieving the heavy piece of black velvet and golden thread, bringing it to her damp cheeks, kissing it as softly as she had kissed him. His sent still lingered in the fabric. Pine, lemon and cinnamon. The combination threatens to unravel her, but she remained stoic, choosing not to feel anything at all, rather than cry another tear.

An arm wrapped around her waist, and she turned to see golden hair.

Not Francis, Greer.

Mary walked silently away from her oldest, dearest friend, leaning against the window, watching the sun in all her almighty majesty. How things had changed since she saw her last. Just the day before, she held everything, now, it was thinner than sand, slipping through her pale fingertips.

Each hour the sun provided her jeered at her cruelly. How things had somehow progressed as normal since her beloved had been taken from her, court reeling briefly, before she carried on with her duties as if nothing had happened.

Apart from the fact a thick veil of black had set on the French Court, of course.

As silent as her former Queen, court nervously began again. Politics wouldn't stop, but she had.

"Mary," Greer had whispered, coming close once again. As if she was a puppet on a string, the Queen of Scotland slowly looked over at her lady in waiting, the pain she felt present in her eyes. She said nothing, just let the next tear fall from her now blackened eyes. "Oh, love." Greer had cooed, taking her into her arms.

Almost lifelessly, Mary felt her knees buckle, sinking to the floor in her lady's arms.

It hadn't been so long that she had knelt in the throne room to receive her crown. Her beloved at her side, unconditional love within her womb. Both glorious in red and gold, they seemed to hold the world at their fingertips. The almighty lord had entrusted her to take care of France, yet took everything that truly meant anything to her away not so long after.

Both husband and child.

She had barely held them both for a few days before her child was ripped away from her womb, the same day her husbands' only child was christened into the church, to worship the almighty lord that allowed him to know his father for not even a year.

A glorious crimson had withered into a dreary black, her child and husband dead.

Now, what did she have?

But, did it matter now? Francis is gone, their baby was dead. Their reign over, and she was alone. 

My dear, you cannot linger here. Charles is soon to take the crown, and you will no longer be safe. As soon as possible, you must return to Scotland. Her former mother in law's words echoed in her head. Sniffling, she covered her ears as if it would make the imagined words stop.

Catherine had the tendency to refuse to feel whenever a great loss or pain happened, so it shouldn't have really surprised her, those words. But, they cut deeper wounds than the one her former husband ripped out of her, the fact that they were no longer anything killed her. She was no longer Francis' wife, no longer France's Queen. 

Only Scotland remained. It was ironic, really. Three days ago, she held three countries in her hands. Now, she barely clung to one.

What a horrid sense of humour fate has.

She looked up at Greer when the door opened, and in strolled the young Lady Lola. Head to toe in black, she walked quietly towards the fellow Scotswomen and knelt before her Queen, wordlessly wrapping her arms around her, not letting the out cries that ached to be released.

Mary didn't know how long they stayed like that, wordlessly wrapped in each others embrace, kneeling on the cold floor. It could have been minutes, hours or days, but she didn't know. Nor, did she really care.

Another knock against the door, and it opened with a soft squeak.

"Your Majesty, your carriage awaits." the young page said quietly.  

Mary wordlessly stood from her ladies' arms, walking out of the door without bothering to wipe her tears. Lola barely had time to cover her Queen's face with the onyx veil before she faced the silent court, before they followed their Queen and mistress out towards the courtyard, where a grand carriage awaited them.

For now, she would be housed in a small chateaux east of Paris, if Catherine had her way. Mary was too exhausted to argue with her, grief forcing food from her stomach, physically sickened by her abandonment and widowhood.

She was nothing to France now.

France would be nothing to her.

They walked identically to the way they did not that long ago, where Mary bloomed in white lace towards the only man she would ever love. Now, she advanced towards the carriage where the Queen Mother of France stood.

"I am sorry, my dear. This is for the best." Catherine all but choked.

Looking up at the sky, she found the warm summer breeze, a far stretch of the crisp spring one that took her husband from her. Birds chirped and trees danced as the French Court would say goodbye to her former Queen for good, never to see her again.

Mary didn't respond to Catherine's kiss or tight embrace, but she didn't deny her, either. 

"Write to me, Mary. You must know that I will always be here for you, should you need me." Catherine said, placing her hand on Mary's cheek. Still, the Queen of Scotland did nothing.

"Thank you, my Lady. We are grateful." Kenna said, stepping in for Mary as she failed to answer for a second time. Again, the Queen of Scotland didn't acknowledge the fact her lady had spoken. She was too exhausted to even think, let alone speak.

Catherine seemed to understand, stepping back to allow Sebastian to help his former Queen into the carriage.