Rebirth

Chapter 12

"It's time." Mary said, tightening the baldric around her shoulder, sliding her -Francis' beautifully crafted gift- sword into the holster. The words were hidden, but so well shown.

Mea Regina. Mea Lux. Meus Amour.

She drew strength from the sword and the words, took faith in the immortal connection they shared in their son and never-to-be-born baby and faced Bothwell, the determination for revenge strong.

"Mary, I understand you want to lead the charge on Edinburgh castle, but must I point out the obvious?"

She sighed, furious and vengeful. The days away from Edinburgh had been hard, fear for the growing child inside of her and a lack of security for James and John unsettling her, made even worse by the lack of progress in their attempt to take back the castle. "Yes, I am with child. But I must show my people, and the treasonous privy council, that I am Scotland's only true and legitimate ruler.

"And as such, you must protect yourself, and the life of your heir, at all costs. I've gathered legions of loyal clansmen who are ready to march on your behalf. Allow me to lead in your stead. I beg of you.

"I will remain at a cautious distance, for my child's sake." she looked down at the quite sizeable bump on her abdomen, subconsciously placing a hand over it, before looking back at Bothwell. "But I will not stay behind. I want Lord Ruthven and the council to know that it is their queen who is taking back her castle. And all those involved in the coup last night, they will pay a very steep price for it."

"Hundreds of heavily armed clansmen - descending on the castle?"

"I'm afraid so, my Lord."

"Gather the privy council, wake and alert them at once."

"Sir, I-I'm afraid they've fled."

"Fled? - All of them?" He asked.

"King Darnley as well." the young traitor confirmed.

"One sign of resistance and those cowards slither out the back door." he paused. "And Mary? Does she know her king has fled?"

"She's been under guard, imprisoned in her quarters all night."

Neigh!

Bothwell, as proud as could be, called up to Ruthven. "By order of the queen, I demand your immediate surrender." he declared.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. I hold this castle, as I also hold the queen of Scots as my prisoner." he snarked.

"You hold nothing, Lord Ruthven." he paused. "And the queen is here," he nodded, but his voice started to drop with the latter words. "to see you fall."

From behind, Mary raised her chin, looking down at Ruthven, her eyes dark and gloomy, a far cry to the bright, shimmering golden she usually sported. A smirk decorated her face as Ruthven sagged, that unfamiliar blood lust not felt since Munro's blood decorated her hands returning in full force.

"For the crimes of high treason and insurrection against the crown, you are sentenced to death, Lord Ruthven. Your family lands will be spared, however, if you testify against your traitorous leader." Bothwell read off the script.

"I know nothing of traitors, only patriots fighting a Catholic tyrant and false queen." Ruthven hissed. Mary glared darker. "You will get nothing from me." he said, proud of his treachery.

"As you wish, Lord Ruthven." Mary began. "I will be more than happy to round up the remaining members of your faithless privy council for the testimony I need. And I will do it. No matter how long it takes."

Mary strutted forwards, kicking the block from Ruthven's feet. He fell, his neck snapping, a loud echoing through the courtyard. She heard feminine gasps, grateful for the fact that her sons were safely guarded in their nursery, their naivety to such matters of execution a far-cry to Mary's own at that age. She blinked, remembering the burning of over a dozen men when she wasn't even ten years old, not even blinking as those who dared harm her were burned in front of her eyes.

"That was for David Rizzio."

Mary had found Darnley two months later, the rest of the privy council being hung, drawn and quartered, one by one, until Jon Knox was put onto trial. With the testimony of one of the weakest council members who had simply been hung as a reward, he was being put to death. After Mary had allowed Stefan to have his fun, of course.

"Majesty," Stefan bowed slightly to the Queen of Scots, rightful Queen and undisputed heir to England, Queen mother and Queen Regent of France, who held the small King of France on one hip, the Baron of Velay and the Duke of Roxburghe on her spare hand, the long since Scottish-land gifted young bastard's eyes lighting a little at the sight of the French Lord.

"Lord Narcisse," Mary acknowledged, glancing down at John, who was faintly trying to recognise his step father. "I trust you've had your indulgences with Knox, have you not?" she asked. Most of his followers had disbanded his preechings for proven treason and Mary had squelched any possible Protestant uprisings by naming James her Queen's Deputy, and had let the long suffering Narcisse have his way with Knox, and now it was time to watch him die.

"I have, my Queen. It was a pleasure doing business with you," he smirked slightly. They had a deal. He'd use his and Catherine's influences and spies to locate the privy council members and gain their testimonies and in return, Mary allowed him to have his way with him in the dungeons -most notable being his castration post Gideon Blackburn's murder- and to attain the privilege to watch his execution.

"Indeed it has." she heard the traitors' gate start to squeak open. "Well, then. Let's watch," Mary grinned a little. The children were given to the trusted nannies and Mary and Stephane walked towards the execution grounds'. They walked to the back of the courtyard, everybody bowing to their Queen and the Lord Chancellor of France. Assisting her to walk up the steps to the throne that was always placed in the courtyard, Stephane helped Mary sit -unfamiliar gentleman-like attributes flooding through to the person whom he had always hated yet respected almost as much as he did Catherine de Medici. He stood tall at her side as the traitors' gate opened and Knox was taken out and over to the stage and chopping block.

"Reverend Knox. You have been found guilty of high treason against her Majesty, Queen Mary of Scotland, Queen mother and Regent of France and according to the word of Her Majesty, you are sentenced to death for your crimes against the crown. Do you have any last words as you stand before your Queen and your god?" Bothwell read out.

"You shall never be my Queen. Nobody, nobody is innocent in this world. You shall ruin Scotland with the French at your side! This shall be your downfall!" he yelled, being forced onto his knees and to lean over the chopping block.

Narcisse's eyes flashed with excitement as the executioner raised his axe and looked at his Queen. He looked down and saw her nod, the consent of the death of the traitor, smirked, before looking back at Knox. He saw the axe raise then fall quickly, the head of the traitor rolling on the ground.

"The head of a traitor!" the executioner yelled above the crowds' yells, holding the head up by the hair.

Mary looked up at Stephane. He smirked back at her. The duo had never liked each other, Stephane opposing her at every turn when she was Queen of France, Mary hating him for driving her friend to her death. But, none could deny that they worked well together and could do so for the greater good.

They disliked each other immensely. But God, did they work like a well oiled machine when it benefited them both.