note: So this is it. I can't actually believe that this is the last chapter. I never expected this story to span anymore than 10 chapter, and now it's almost 40. Over 130k words and almost 12k view, its incredible.

I know that some parts of this story are a bit messy and not perfectly planned out but I had so much fun writing it. The one thing I've always known was how this story would end and I hope you'll find it satisfying.

A huge thank you to every single one of you, who have read, commented and favorited this story. I never thought so many people would enjoy it so this makes me incredibly happy. I have to say a special thanks to SweetRomance257, stilljustme and of course Galpalcj. I'm sure I'm forgetting someone (sorry) and also a special thanks to the guest reviews I couldn't thank in person!

I have many more ideas for future stories in my head, and maybe after my exams are over I'll publish more stories. I don't think they'll be as long as this one but we'll see :)

So one last time, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! :)

(disclaimer: I own nothing)

Epilogue

„Mary" he called out to her.

Time froze for a single moment as she caught his blue eyes. He stared at her with a mix of deep sorrow and pain and the fear paralyzed her own heart. The smile he gave her was almost an apologetic one and her stomach recoiled.

He had accepted his fate, to willingly give his life for his daughter and hers. ‚I love you' he mouthed the words and she could do nothing but stare at his face with tears swimming in her eyes. This couldn't be it, this was not the end she had dreamed for them. His death wouldn't be the end of their excruciating journey, this couldn't be the reward for all their sacrifices. No god was this cruel or unforgiving.

„Francis" she cried out in absolute terror.

He tried to keep the smile on his lips but the tears won over and his face turned into an expression of sadness. Why didn't he fight, why wouldn't he move? She wanted to shake him, to force him off the ice, to do something. He would break through any second but he did nothing but stare at her, as if to memorize ever little detail of her face for the very last time.

She wouldn't let them take him from her, not again. The tightness in her chest increased as her muscles strained to keep her upright put the excruciating pain was not one of physical origin. It was as if an essential organ, a part of her body had been ripped from her flesh. The hole felt unbridgeable and made her completely powerless.

The awful cracking sound, she had dreaded to hear, drowned out any other noise. And as the ice crumbled beneath him, he used his last moments above the freezing water to ease Anne onto the save ice. He fell and she felt everything crumble to ash and rubble inside her. She had expected it to be more dramatic, had thought to see him fall in slow motion, maybe even hear his screams. But he was gone in the blink of an eye, without another sound the lake had swallowed him up.

The silence felt harder than any screams or the sounds of breaking ice. No one moved and she felt herself shaking as her nails dug into the cold bark of the tree to her right. Her lungs were squeezed dry of all air and she could sense the darkness approaching.

Then a cry echoed through the air, closely followed by another one. Anne was still on the ice and her screams had broken the silence. Her daughter was still there, only meters from where she was standing, cowered against a tree.

She scrambled forward, almost tripping over her own skirts as she hurried onto the ice. Amélie and the guards called out behind her but she ignored their warnings. Even if the ice should break under her weight, she did not fear the cold waters which would hold her certain death.

„Francis" it sounded more like a plea than an actual scream and the tears broke her voice.

„Francis" she repeated his name over and over, ringing more desperate every time.

But he wasn't there and when she stumble towards the hole in the ice, she could see nothing but pitch black water. She carefully scooped Anne into her arms and sank down next to the hole.

„Francis, please … please don't leave me here." she sobbed and pressed Anne tighter against her chest.

Her fingers ghosted over the baby's deep red cheeks. She was so cold, she felt so incredibly cold in her arms and her cries had stilled. Mary felt herself shaking as her body rocked forward.

„Francis, come back to me." she fought against the surge of tears drowning her voice. „You promised, you would come back to me."

But when she looked at the water, the pale white face that rose to the surface, was drained of all life. The eyes stood white open and their blue colour seemed to leak into the surrounding water. They didn't move, set on a point in the clouded sky above them. His mouth stood open and his lips were still curled into a silent scream of fear and panic.

„No" she collapsed against the ice and everything faded to black. The eyes, his eyes, were haunting her, the moment of his death contained in their cold stare for eternity.

Nothing, there was nothing left.

„Mary" someone was shaking her shoulders. „Wake up, Mary."

The sudden light blinded her and she gasped out for air, as if it had been her drowning. The familiar room and bed she found herself in, confused her. No trace of the cold water and frozen lake, instead warm sheets and a fire in the hearth.

„It was just a dream, a nightmare, darling." fingers traced the line of her cheekbones and caressed her skin.

For a split second her body flinched, unable to cope with the sudden change of time and place. She had heard the voice before, countless times and it took her several moments to accept its reality. The fingers on her cheeks grew more insistent, drawing her face upwards and she resistantly complied, lifting her head from the feathered pillow.

„Francis" the confusion welled through her body when she saw his face hovering so closely before her.

It was a mixture of joy at seeing his face, when she had thought him gone, and the pure shock of the absurdity of this situation. How could this be? She had seen his dead eyes and unmoving face, she remembered it distinctly. The ghostly white colour of his skin and dead stare.

But his eyes were bursting with warmth and his pupils dilated slightly when he inspected her with a clear sight of worry. His cheeks were full of colour and the fingers, cupping her face, were filled with warmth. He pushed some stray strands of hair from her face and the furrow between his brows depend with concern.

„You'er alive." she whispered and he laughed in relieve.

„Yes, yes, I'm alive." he smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. „I can prove it." he gave her a slight smirk and drew her closer into his arms.

He took her hand and positioned its palm directly over the spot on his chest above his heart. „Incase you should need a reminder."

She bit her lip and allowed her body to melt against his, relishing the sound of a heart, beating relentlessly in his chest. He was still with her, in their shared bed, at her side.

Safely pressed against his chest, he memories came flooding back and she remembered. Her own screams had sounded so distant and Amélie had held her back with every ounce of strength the smaller girl had possessed. She had been helplessly watching as her guards had pulled the unconscious king from the water, dragging him from the hole in the ice. With Anne pressed against her chest she had almost fainted herself at seeing Francis' empty and lifeless face. His curls had clung to his skin, which had taken on a eery blueish tone.

Somehow, she thanked god for it, the guards had managed to force the water from his body and his eyes had opened. He had been weak, so incredibly weak and it had clawed at her heart seeing him in such a state. The whole ride back, her fingers had been clenched around her own horse's reigns, praying that he would make it back to the castle. She had heard Nostradamus' words, they had rang in her ears, warning her of his death. And though she had sworn of the prophecy, its indications haunted her more than ever in those hours, fearing for his life.

It had taken several days for his strength to return and he was still weak by comparison. He had spent the majority of his days in their bed, reading and seldom meeting with his privy council and royal advisers. She had been at his side, helping where she could and, for the first time in her own reign as Queen of Scotland, she had taken over some of his duties as king. She was not a legitimate ruler to France, but the trust he had put in her seemingly had been enough to convince the high lords. At first, they had bowed hesitantly but as time had gone by, their own reservations against her had faded.

It had been harder than she had anticipated, prevailing over such a large number of people. Every lord or count had expected something different and in the beginning, finding the right compromise had been a hard challenge to master. There had been fights over land or inheritance brought before her and thankfully the council members had always offered their guidance.

She would return to their chambers with her head feeling like it was packed with wool and her whole body seemingly drained of all energy. But she had relished the scarce hours spent in bed with Francis, and Anne between them. All the politics and audiences had forced almost all her time away from her child and nothing felt better than swopping Anne from her crib after an excruciating day at work. The child would be filled with laughter and giggles at the sight of her mother. Some nights she would carefully open the door, to find both Francis and Anne asleep in the master bed. His arm would be gently wrapped around her small body while their chests rose and fell in union. Other times she had found him with Anne in his lap, reading her from the stack of paper that piled on the small table at his side of the bed. He would explain strategies of reforming the country, or legal documents concerning French subjects to the child. Anne in turn would only giggle and reach out to touch the scrolls with her tiny arms. She would make an excellent leader one day, Mary imagined. Her heart had almost burst with joy and love at seeing them both happy and alive before her.

Each hour she had spent away from him, she had still feared for his health, concerned that he might suddenly relapse. Thankfully nothing of that kind happened and almost a week ago, the court appointed doctor had assured them Francis had made a full recovery. Seeing the relief on his face had been gift enough, and he had gently kissed her then.

Every time she would see his face, the thankfulness of having him still here, at her side, overwhelmed her. After all they had been through, she would never again take anything for granted. Life was the most precious gift of all, especially when one realized, how quickly it could be taken away. A blink of an eye, a poisoned cup, a blade driven through the chest, the blood loss after bearing a child, the threatening flames of a pyre and finally ice cracking, a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her days. She slightly flinched at the memory again.

Francis arms were tightly wound around her body and her fingers where desperately clutching his garment. Inexplicably, there were tears trickling down her cheeks and they kept on flowing in a seemingly endless stream.

„I will never let you go again." she sobbed against him and her arms curled against his chest.

The thin material of his night shirt was drenched as she fisted it in her hands. He gently rubbed her back and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. In this moment, the heat radiating from his body onto hers, the familiar smell of his hair and the sweet sound of his voice were too much. The thought that she might have lost it all, never having the chance of knowing him so close, wrenched at her heart. All the things she had done, the sins she had committed against herself and others, threatened to crush her beneath their weight. The sobs gently echoed through her body and she only pressed herself tighter against Francis who seemed utterly perplex by her sudden reaction.

„I will never leave you again, my dear." he gently shifted their weight so they could see eye to eye.

His hand came up to trace the line of her cheeks and finally he used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her skin.

„A bride ought not to cry on her wedding day." he whispered against her ear and she couldn't help but smile in response.

The ship swayed under her feet and she squinted her eyes to make out the growing strip of land before her. The winds were harsher than when they had left the coast of Francs and she tightly clutched the shawl around her chest. With her other hand holding onto the rail, her feet threatened to slip on the wet deck beneath her. The captain had estimated their arrival in the harbor of Edinburgh in the next few hours. She felt both exited and anxious to return to her home country. Her parents, brothers and sister all lived here and she had been away for a long time. But the excitement was dulled by a sense of lost. All that she had left behind once she had boarded the ship. A country she she had grown to love, her queen and best friend, she would most likely never see them again.

Mary's last words echoed in her head. ‚Tell me why!' her friend had begged her and seeing her tears had been too much. She had broken Mary's trust in a time when she had needed it most. What if the child wouldn't live and she couldn't even picture the grief Mary might have to face, if Francis never returned from his search. She swallowed, trying her best to ignore the forming lump in her throat. She had been so stupid to trust Cathrine.

Tears stung in her eyes and she wasn't sure if it was her own grief or simply the harsh winds around her. How could she have been so naive, shouldn't she have known better? Kenna had always prided herself on her cunning and unparalleled instincts, how she had always been the reasoning one of her friends. But after all this time, it was the old Medici woman, who had fooled her and she clenched her hands into fists.

Cathrine had seemed so sincere and her promises had certainly flattered Kenna's proud heart. The idea of saving Bash had sounded so right in her mind, when the woman had told her. Of course she would have given anything to spare him the flames and excruciating death, the pyre would bring. After all, she would have had Cathrine on her side and the woman surely knew how to bribe guards and smuggle people in and out the castle's impenetrable walls. But she hadn't bribed any guards or help anyone escape this time. Kenna felt the anger rising at the memory. No, they had been caught and the guards had dragged her back by her hair and dress, taking no notice of her relentless screams and kicks. And worst of all, the look of defeat on Bash's face when the guard had forced him against the hard stone wall and bound his hands anew.

She hastily wiped away the tear, glistening on the reddened skin of her cheek and sniffled. How cruel could a person be, to toy with peoples life like that. Did the woman have no compassion at all? Of course Kenna had heard the stories as well, the tales of how Bash had been the one to throw his mad father out a window to his death. Goose bumps formed along her spine and she shivered as the cold air swooped through her layers of cloths. She could understand Cathrine's need for revenge but this seemed so wrong and she still remembered the look of fear on the woman's face when Henry had driven the sword through Lola's innocent body. There certainly hadn't been any love left between the two and she couldn't imagine Cathrine actually regretting her late husband's death. Maybe the woman just loved seeing people killed, she pondered, it might thrill her in some disgusting way.

She had felt sorry for Francis, truly pitted him for how things between Mary, Bash and him had unfolded. But she had never taken the warm hearted prince, now French King, to be of a cruel heart. As much as she had valued him as a friend, though they had mostly shared very heated discussions, she could never forgive him for this. Of course his daughter had just been taken from him, but executing his own brother would not bring the child back.

Bash might have been the one to marry Mary, the ultimate prize it seemed. But in the end, his life had been filled with misery and despair just as much as Francis' had. He was never born a king, unlike his younger brother, and the crown had proven too much paired with the troubled relationship with Mary. He might have put the ring on her finger, but her heart and most tragically the growing child inside her had never belonged to him. She couldn't lie, seeing both of them, over the past months, fighting and screaming at the other, had been heart breaking to witness. How many evenings had she spent, rubbing Mary's back and holding her friend's hand, as she had wept and cried in despair. Her heart had bled for Mary, but knowing that Bash wasn't really the one to blame had only made it worse. The lies had build up like a wall between them and both had been too blind see past their own pain.

She took in a deep breath as she closed her eyes and relished the sensation of feeling the cold air rush into her lungs. Her head seemed to burst with heavy thoughts and memories she couldn't quite let go. She stayed at her place at the front of the ship for the remaining hours of their journey, wishing for nothing more than to throw her burdens over the edge into the almost black waters below.

When the ground finally steadied beneath her feet and the buzzing harbor came to life all around a feeling of finally standing of Scottish ground took her heart. But at the same time a strange sensation of longing overcame her. No matter which direction she turned, the faces that would meet hers, she couldn't recognize, they were all strangers. Talking in a language she could understand, but hadn't spoken herself in years and it all seemed like a completely new word. Nothing here reminded her in the slightest of French court, the manners and extravagant gowns. Here, everything looked some shade of grey or brown and the men's faces carried deep lines and tired eyes, as they rolled barrels across muddied ground and pulled smaller ships into the harbor. She felt completely out of place, with her light blue dress, which had already caught dirt at the seam, and her huge entourage of boxes and oversized chests filled with even more gowns and jewels.

„Madam" she turned to find the grey bearded captain of their ship before her. „I was told to give you this, almost forgot." he mumbled.

He stretched his arm out to her, handing her a crumbled up piece of paper she carefully unfolded and even out. There was no seal or name and she furrowed her brows in confusion. The paper only held few words ‚take him with you - do not tell anyone'. She slightly shook her head, not grasping the meaning of the message before her.

„I don't understand. Who am I supposed to take with me?" she directed the question at the man before her.

„Ah yes, your steward." he nodded.

„My what?" she had never in her life had a steward and saw absolutely no reason for one now.

„He's a curious companion, didn't utter a word. The queen had me swear to keep him under deck." the captain shrugged and without another word turned towards the boat.

Before she could try to make any sense of the situation and the captain's words, a slightly bent over figure emerged behind the beard shipman and her heart almost stilled in shock.

„Bash" she couldn't believe her eyes.

„Do you take this man, Francis the Second of the House of Valois, to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

„Yes" she had never so easily uttered a word.

Her hand was in Francis' and he gently pushed the delicate golden ring on her finger gifting her his sincerest smile. She could bust with joy, standing here before the whole court and at last being able to profess her love for the one man, who had always held her heart. He gentle squeezed her hand and bit his lip as the priest rose above them once more.

„In the name of god, I declare you husband and wife until death may you part."

Francis helped her to her feet and resounding applause filled the chapel. She rose to her tip toes and he put his right hand around the small of her back kissing her. Mary smiled against his lips and when they move drew back she mused at the sudden redness filling his cheeks.

Her hand still securely in his they found their way back the ail. The chapel had been filled to the brink with people, some from court and others from more distant regions. But they had all joined to see their King wed to who would be the French Queen once more. And for once, there were no hidden sneers or conspiring lords threatening to topple their rule. France was at last, at peace.

Amélie followed just a few steps behind them, Anne safely snuggled in her arms. For the ceremony Mary had allowed her ladies and maids to dress the princess more extravagantly. A rose coloured bow was tied around her brown haired head and the snow white colour of her tiny gown matched perfectly with her mother's.

The whole castle seemed to erupt with cheers and they were eagerly greeted by all the maids and servants upon entering the great hall. Despite the freezing temperatures and thick cover of snow around the court's walls, its interior was draped with lush bouquets of white flowers and the tables were filled with displays of the ripest fruits and intricately decorated tarts and cakes.

The air was filled with a sweet mixture of wine and wild flowers and an abundance of candles and lusters dipped the whole hall in a warm honey like glow. When she turned her head she could see the little sparkles of light reflected in Francis' eyes. She allowed herself a moment to marvel at the man, who at last she could call her husband and goose bumps rose on her arms. God had truly had mercy on her and this was the greatest gift of all. Knowing him by her side for the rest of their days and the life they had always dreamed of. Whenever he would gaze at her, admiring her own beauty his eyes were filled with the love, both had been chasing after for far too long.

Behind them, the musicians drew their instruments and the first few tunes were still competing with the murmur and laughter from the crows. Before her, Francis bowed his head, carefully not to disrupt his golden crown, and presented his hand.

„I have waited for this moment my whole life. Will you give do me the honor of the first dance?" his gaze was bursting with warmth and compassion and she could feel herself blush beneath her powdered cheeks.

„Of course" she smiled and he rose to meet her arms.

The crowed had formed a slightly uneven circle in the middle of the hall and they found themselves alone on the dance floor. Both curtseyed once more and slowly the started to move to the music. At first their palms barely touched as the kept their steps small and moved in graceful circles around each other. As the music grew louder and quicker around them, so did their movements.

It felt right, as if their bodies had been destined for each other. Each of his moves was perfectly parallel with her own and she had never enjoyed a dance as much as she did this one. He gently guided her and not once did their feet collide or take a misplaced step.

Francis placed his hands on her waist and gently rose her body into the air, spinning them both around. When her feet met the ground she caught his eyes and he gently rested his forehead against hers, never letting go of her eyes.

„Look" he nudged his head upwards and her eyes followed his movement.

Her breath caught in her chest when she witnessed the claud of tiny white feathers pouring from above them. Her mouth opened in astonishment and a laugh escaped her lips. Francis peered at her from above and when their eyes met, he too knew the memories playing in her head.

The happy squeals of their childhood as they had bounced on a bed covered in feathers, his sisters wedding and Mary dancing with her ladies only to catch his eye and of course, the night of her wedding to bash and the brief moment when her brown eyes had met his blue ones.

But this time there was no pain or hurt, no lies between them. Today it was only them and the love that had been in their hearts all along. He returned her smile and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before continuing to spin her through the room until both of them were slightly red faced and breathless.

The voices and music still echoed from the hall several floors down and the night was alight with candles on the perch of the balcony. Francis had carefully managed to balance to mugs of hot milk, sweetened with a touch of honey, on the stone perch and Mary had collected all the blankets and furs she had found in their chambers to keep the night's chill away.

Francis was holding Anne and the baby had finally tired from the day's busy events and was now soundly asleep as he rocked her against his chest. Mary huddled closer to him and nestled her head against his shoulder, following Anne's movements, as her small chest gently rose and fell with every breath.

„This is all I'ver ever wanted." she intertwined her hand with his free one. „To think that all of this had to happen to get us here." she hid her face against the smooth fabric of his embellished doublet.

„All that matters is, we are here now." he looked as content as she had ever seen him and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. „Time has proven that our destiny had always been with another and I wouldn't have it any other ways."

The remained cuddled against one another with Anne save from the cold between them. There were lanterns lit all across the lawn, reaching to the waterline of the lake. Scarce, people, mostly couples, were scattered across the snow covered grass beneath them. Despite the freezing temperatures the strong walls of the castles shielded them from most of the winds and an incredibly sensation of warmth spread throughout her body.

Memories of their happy childhood flashed before her eyes and the moment she fist saw Francis, after returning from the convent. Maybe he was right, they had been destined for each other, engaged since their very early childhood. Now, she truly was married to the French King and father of her beautiful child.

She could feel the slight tingle of Francis' breath on her skin and when she turned her head upwards, she found his eyes glued to her face. His cheeks grew slightly pink in response and he looked as if she had caught him doing something indecent.

„I love you." he muttered against her ear, his eyes aglow with the flames radiating from the candles.

„And I love you, always have and always wills." his smile grew even wider and he gently lowered his head, hovering only inches from her face.

Their lips touched and she relished the sensation. Everything had changed and nothing. He was still the same man, just Francis, and she just Mary, despite all the things that had conspired. He drew her in closer and their kiss deepened. She could taste the faint hints of honey and milk and rose her hands to cup his face. Her thumbs gently drew across his cheeks and she could sense his lips gently turning into a smile against hers. The sweetness and joy overwhelmed her and for the first time she truly felt home. This was were she belonged, where her heart felt at home and she knew that he felt it as well.

When they finally drew back and his top lip ghosted across her bottom one one last time the stars seemed to mirror in his now almost black eyes. She couldn't hold back a giggle and he couldn't help but laugh in response.

She intertwined her own hands around his neck and meant to rest her face against his chest, to relishing the familiar smell that was so uniquely his. But little drops of liquid glistening in the candle light along his jaw line caught her attention. They must have dripped down from his ear as when she wiped them away with her sleeve, a deep red colour bled into the snow white fabric. She furrowed her brows, the sight of his blood making her uneasy.

Francis instantly caught her worried look and smiled.

„Oh it is nothing, dear. My ear's just still a bit sore from the cold water."

Satisfied with his answer she leaned her head against his chest and in her mind this was how ever night should end. Close enough to feel both their daughter and Francis' beating hearts against her own skin.

Thank you, thank you so incredibly much for reading my story! I know that, depending on what you expected, this might not be exactly the ending you wished for. I just want to say, for me the prophecy and threat of Francis death are a pivotal part of their love story and it's what makes it so perfectly bitter sweet.

Please, if you enjoyed this chapter and the whole story overall I'd greatly appreciate it if you left me a comment and your thoughts. Thank you and until the next story!