Astrinomical

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"We are gathered here today to assume the guilty or innocence of this Lady. You are hereby charged with adultery, being seduced by the devil and high treason, all punishable by death. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, my lord."

~~

"My lords, it is time to pass judgement."

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

"My lady, at dawn, tomorrow morning, you will be sentenced to death by beheading. Take her away!"

"No, no, please! Stop this, please! I'm sorry! No!"

~~

Cheers. Deafening, blood lusty cheers. 

"Enter the traitor!"

The squeak of a gate. Pounding footsteps.

"Lady Lola Flemming. You are guilty of high treason against our sovereign Lady, Mary of the house of Stuart, first of her name, Empress Regnant of Scotland, England, Wales and Ireland, Queen Consort of France, Duchess of Anjou, Edinburgh and Lorraine. Do you have any last words as you stand before your Empress and your God?"

"I am sorry, Mary, please! Do not do this, please! No!" was screamed. "Protect my son, tell him I love him! Tell him everyday!"

The rise and fall of an axe.

Blood.

Punishment.

Mary awoke with a gasp. Startled, she snapped up, taking in a large, shaky breath as she looked over the darkened bedroom. Mary inhaled sharply, three times. Shakily, she drew in another breath, swallowing thickly, looking all over the room once more. It was dark, no fire lit, no candles burning.

"What is it?" Francis murmured sleepily next to her. "Is it the baby?" he asked, voice gruff and gristly. 

"No, no. I'm fine. We're fine." Mary assured, placing a hand on her twenty seven week old bump. Under her hand, she felt a strong kick, relaxing her instantly. "Just a strange dream." Mary finished. He opened his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, they've been happening. I'm alright." Mary nodded a few times.

Such strange dreams for seven weeks. Tonight, Lola's execution, the Lady she hadn't seen in six weeks, much to her pleasure. Last night, Kenna's birth to her second child. The night before, Greer and James' wedding. The night before that, Francis' death in a forest.

"What was it about?" Francis asked, slowly sitting up, placing a hand on the kicking and turning unborn baby that was housed safely in her womb, as if trying to settle it.

"Leith." Mary lied. Francis frowned. "He and Greer got married, in this Court." Mary lied.

"This one?" Francis frowned. "How bizarre. Leith's never set foot in English Court." he added. Mary didn't want to tell him she lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. She had had that dream, but six days ago. It was a little silly, however. Leith had never stepped foot in English Court, like Francis had said. Only around the country when he was doing business for Mary, desperate to get away from France after Claude's death.

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