ofscots: (tears stream down your face)
 It's all a bit of a haze, honestly, after she finds out. She doesn't really remember checking to make sure her memory of the Queen's execution site is correct. Doesn't really remember figuring out the best way to get there. Doesn't really remember packing her small backpack or buying the ticket or getting on the train. 
 
All she remembers is standing in the ruins of Fotheringay Castle before the plaque dedicated to the death of Mary, Queen of Scots for the first time and feeling like the world was about to give out under her feet. It was only the small handful of other tourists that kept her from falling to her knees from the emotion that overwhelmed her.

She shouldn't have gone back, after that. It wasn't exactly like it helped. But something pulled her to the site in the same way she'd been pulled to France, so she'd kept coming. 

She hadn't expected to be followed here. Hadn't expected that anyone would know to come here when she'd barely known what she was doing herself.

Still, she recognizes the young man who comes to stand beside her as she gazes, a little glassily, at the plaque. As the familiar figure settles beside her, she cuts off anything he might say with the quiet murmur that escapes her lips, "I died here."
ofscots: (but sometimes it hurts instead)
Discovering the truth of her parentage was nothing. She'd never aspired to be anything great, didn't want the position of ambassadress that was on the short list of suggestions in that file they'd kept on her life. Henry questioning his goodness was worse. Franco breaking it off because he wasn't sure if he truly cared for her or if it was just genetic compulsions was worse. Nicol withdrawing almost completely from her life was worse.

That was enough for her to fall back off the wagon for a few months. But like most (not all. Some took a more permanent escape from their new reality) of the Rewriters, she was resilient. Got back on again alone. It helped when Henry started smiling again. Helped when Franco told her he wanted to try anew. Nicol was still distant, but while it hurt, she understood. Kept him posted on her life in the little ways she could, went to his mother's funeral when the time came.

Things got better, after that. After a year back together she and Franco decided that, genetic compulsions or no, they loved each other and that was that. The wedding was a happy thing. Franco's business-- started with the aid of the money the government had been quietly forking over to keep all of them quiet about the whole mess that was their lives-- began to boom. They decided to go back to France where they'd first fallen in love and start their new life afresh.

And it had been so wonderful. After a while they found out she was expecting, and that was a happy thing. Then they'd gone to get some testing done, to see if their origins would have any effect on their child.

And that's when they found signs of Franco's illness, and everything had been a downward spiral since. Writing to tell her big brother of the pregnancy and of Franco's sickness was forgotten,as they first tried to fight the disease, then prepared for the end and ensuring she was well cared for after it. He told her she should go back to her family. She agreed she would.

Which is why, six months pregnant and two weeks widowed, she'll be arriving on Nicol Macintyre's doorstep.

Other than the baby, he's more family than anything else she has in this world.

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Moira Scott | Mary, Queen of Scots

March 2017

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