Tu Es Ma Lumière

170 - Bigamous

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Prompt - Also, maybe you could do a one shot like your one called Behind the Window, but instead of Cathrine watching it's Lola

One minute.

"Hang the traitor!"

Two minutes.

"Death to the traitor!"

Three minutes.

"No mercy!"

Four minutes.

The shouts continue outside the tower. Lady Lola hugs her knees tighter to her chest, turning from the door that had so recently housed two Queens and a mistress and towards the window. Her backside grows more and more damp on the recently rained upon ragged bed she had been forced to spend the night upon. A rarity, it seemed, a storm so vicious in a summer so humid. It reminds her of her son's christening, two years ago. The celebrations and the music and the dancing, all counter beats to the furious storm that bellowed and screeched outside of the walls. She can feel the tightness in her chest from her third night in the tower, the wheeze in her breath, the gunge of her sinuses. They all mean nothing, they all mean nothing.

Five minutes.

But, in another thought, how could she be so deluded to think she could be permitted to live her life after such a lie? Did she really think herself attuned to the ways of French court, so much so that she could go on with such a deception? Her thoughts remind her of the ones Queen Mary had yelled with such furiocity that the guards outside feared her such a bit more. Just after Cardinal de la Creed had brought his clergy of priests, along with the ragged remains of that boy so foolish and serpent-like. Her downfall, her utter downfall.

Six minutes.

Bigamy! This is bigamy! Lady Narciesse is bigamous! Her daughter is bastard born! Her marriage null and void! The cardinal had cried in front of the entirety of French Court. Her enemies, Stephane's enemies, they pounced and they ripped and they tore until the King of France and Scots called for the guards to toss the Lady into the tower. Her charged amounted to so many, even a dusting of punishment for wedding another man whilst holding the eldest child of the King in her womb. Did she deserve it? Did she deserve it the moment she permitted the lost Dauphin of the French Court entry into her body? Or did she deserve it the moment she vowed to Julien -or Remy, was that his born name?- her life and her blood? Or had it happened the night she allowed Remy to run from her arms after she murdered Lord Julien's uncle? Or was the nail placed upon her coffin the night she wedded Stephane? Or did it even matter anymore? Her crimes, her punishment.

Seven minutes.

Lola didn't know what had happened after Francis called the guards to take her. All she knew was that Stephane had been put on oath before her trial, and had sworn before God that he did not know that the mother of his youngest child was already a wedded woman. The trial, which she had so recently returned from, had been something of a nightmare. Queen Mary had to appear, showing French Court a rare appearance ever since she caught pregnant with her third child. Lola knew that this pregnancy was considerably harsher than the one of Prince James or Princess Anne. So to see her, dripping in her blood-written orb, sceptre and crown, veiled, sombre and heavily pregnant, it somehow brought the word home to Lola, that Mary could do nothing to save her from herself. Perhaps the Queen she betrayed enjoyed this, for this would be Lola's punishment for her laying with Francis all those years ago.

Eight minutes.

De La Creed's bastard son had caught Remy in an Italian village. He had been recognised from his wedding to the little Lady, but it was common knowledge that the Lady Lola had been permitted to Lady Narciesse. She had even borne him a daughter, never mind Francis and his son. It didn't matter that Remy had been going by his true name, he had been made to portray the dead man's shoes once again, and was dragged back to French Court. The illusion that Remy died in the fire as Julien had lifted, Lola's scream had proven it. Stephane had been furious when the truth had come out -as it so often did- but he didn't object as Lola had been dragged from the throne room kicking and screaming, begging and pleading. Neither did Francis.