A/N: Did ya miss me? Sorry this took so long guys, I hope you've all still stuck with it. I'm afraid I very much fell behind in my Reign watching and my fanfictions suffered for it, so I apologize. But I do plan on having this fic finished by the time season two starts, so I hope you enjoy this little update. Perhaps as I attempt to catch up on Reign, my muse will pick up again. At any rate, here ya go.

Disclaimer: I do not own Reign.

It felt as if the walk from Nostradamus' chambers to his own took hours rather than minutes. He wondered if this is what all of the Pagans who had been sent to the pyre felt like. That the anticipation, the absolute fear of both knowing what was going to happen and yet not knowing what to expect caused the whole world to slow down. God's universal punishment for the very acts against him.

Whatever the reason, Bash knew he deserved it. He had upset his brother, as well as Mary, not to mention the fact that she was now labeled as a sacrifice. At least now everything was clear. His next steps were so obvious that it was as if he were following footprints, his feet falling onto a well-trodden path in the woods. It shocked him that the very answer to his problems hadn't come to him the moment the boy had announced it was up to him to present a sacrifice. He felt daft, all of this should have been obvious to him days ago. All of this could have been avoided, save for his one problem.

Fear. Bash had been afraid when the Pagan had visited him. He had killed before, he had fought in battles, he had helped Francis kill Thomas, so it really shouldn't have been a problem, but taking an innocent life. It was so different, so vile. He feared what the very act would do to him.

Once in his room Bash threw on his boots and tightly strapped his sword to his hip, then shoved a small knife into his boot.

He took one last look about his room, taking it in before moving back to the door, brushing past a few guards who were marching down the hall. He knew they were most likely headed to Mary's room. By now the deer head would have been removed and he was sure that his father would be mounting a full investigation into how the monstrosity had been maneuvered into her room without anyone knowing and then taking every precaution to ensure Mary's safety. She was after all, his ticket to tying himself with Scotland, should he eventually decide that was the right decision for France.

As Bash made his way towards the doors of the castle, two guards moved, blocking his path and stopping him in his tracks. The fact that he was now in a motionless state actually angered Bash more than the fact that guards were actually standing in his way, acting as if he were some criminal who wasn't allowed to pass.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Bash, his hand resting at his hip, laying upon the hilt of his sword. Not necessarily in a threat, but there just in case he needed it. He was sure that if he pushed too hard, the guards would fight him. He was only a bastard after all, beyond being the King's favoured son, he wasn't important to anyone at court.

"No one is to leave the castle. King's orders," one said, his eyes moving to rest on Bash's sword, well at least he was observant. That was a comforting thought. Bash heaved a sigh and moved a few steps forward, and he noticed the two guards shift a little uncomfortably.

"Of course they're his orders. A deer head was strung up above the Queen of Scotland's bed. But do you not see that the orders were meant to keep the perpetrator in. Not his son. Surely you don't believe me the culprit?" Bash questioned the two, keeping his tone neutral but attempting to press upon them the obvious stupidity of their actions.

They seemed to hesitate, mulling over his words and Bash took that as his moment. He had lived in the castle long enough to know that should he decide at this moment to push past them, they wouldn't stop him. He had managed to instill doubt in their orders, and without their convictions they were far less fearsome foes.

Once outside the castle walls Bash allowed himself a moment's pause to stand there in the cool morning air, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs.

He thought a moment, debating on whether or not he should gather his horse. Finally deciding it would take too long and there might be too many questions asked by the stable boy, Bash started to make his way towards the woods. Eventually he found himself following the very path he had watched Mary take what seemed ages ago, chasing after her dog shortly after arriving at the castle. Even with the knowledge of what he was walking into, Bash found a smile stretching his lips as he thought of that moment. The first time he had managed to find himself alone with the Queen of Scots.

The ease with which they could tease each other, the bright smile on her face in the light in her eyes allowed Bash to truly set his jaw and move forward, his drive now even stronger than ever.

The sun was shining already in the morning sky, and Bash could tell it was going to be a beautiful day, however as soon as he made it into the bloodwood it all changed. The thick cover of the trees blocked any sun who attempted to try and pierce their veil, the ground was already covered with the fallen leaves that indicated that fall would soon be upon them. The crunch of the leaves underfoot was like listening to the very sound of death and decay. He actually found himself wondering if the leaves really sounded all that different from the sound of bones crunching underfoot.

In the dark silence of the woods, thoughts came and went through Bash's mind, some good, some bad and some downright horrifying. These thoughts however did keep him busy. He found he had walked without purpose, merely moving through the trees, unsure how long he had actually be moving, until he heard a sound behind him. His hunting instincts took hold and he froze, turning his head slightly in the direction the sound had come from, but otherwise remaining perfectly still.

After a few short minutes, Bash heard another rustle, this one coming from in front of him. He moved his head, quick as lightening and finally a figure started to emerge. A bent figure with a hood covering their face, a knotted piece of wood as a staff. When the figure finally spoke, Bash realized it was a man, his voice raspy as if from disuse.

"What brings you here, Sebastian, bastard son of King Henry?" he asked, all the formality you might find in someone of standing in court.

Bash moved forward a little drawing his sword, the sound of metal on metal is it pulled free echoing through the tress. "I have chosen a sacrifice."