In this presumably Ellie Goulding-themed finale, Reign returns to its roots — by which I mean its inappropriate, blood sacrificing, underage sex having, bursting through doors-ing roots. We don’t want plot, we wants sudsy drama! We want Greer back at court! We want indie music and tastefully lit half-naked bodies! We want Catherine getting her scheme on, and not needing no man to do it! We want illegitimate babies and men with beards and historical figures played by appalling cast actors…and by gum, do we get it. Pentagrams. Prophecies. Nostradamus. Elizabeth. Hair extensions. There are plot holes you could fall through, and it’s a bit bloody brilliant. Roll on the next umpteen seasons!


WTF #5: Mary the Hot Guy Slayer

We left off with Mary in Condé’s camp, where Louis is letting his soldiers gambol about with whores because hey, there’s nothing like a hooker to take the edge off the night before you might be decapitated by a teenage king.

This guy appears to be one of Condé’s advisors, and he’ll be relevant later.


Soon enough, Louis has to take a break from his fangirling over Mary (and bragging about not needing to partake in the aforementioned gambolling, because nice boys don’t do things like that) to deal with a charming case of coming-out-of-both-ends in his men. I’m not sure when or where he became an M.D., but I guess he’s storing up audience sympathy. He’ll need it…


Oh, this is the reason that advisor dude was relevant: a synchronised boy band head turn (seriously, though, that’s the only reason he was relevant. Buh-bye, advisor dude).


But Louis and his new mate find it difficult to rehearse when there’s a hooker in high fashion screaming about the plague — and yep, you’ve guessed it, it’s one of Greer’s hookers, meaning this is somehow part of Mary’s plan.

I have no idea whose plan it was to dress her like Carrie Bradshaw. Frizzy hair and marabou, sweetie? The word is prostitute, not destitute.


Mary’s plan, in case you were wondering, was to figuratively stab Condé in the back by actually stabbing him in the front. Ashes and indigestion may have reduced his men to knock-kneed nancies, but apparently Her Maj has to be a real bitch about their breakup too.


You can tell she’s planning something from the fact that she does nothing but stare for the first quarter of the episode. Stare.





“You are my husband and my king,” intones Mary in traumatised Stepford Wife when Francis turns up at half an hour late. I can’t help but think, “I BROUGHT YOU BREAKFAST, DARLING,” would be slightly more appropriate, but this isn’t The Vampire Diaries.


Greer, having played her part in this ferosh plan, returns to court looking — you’ve guessed it — ferosh. Admittedly, she looks ferosh in a Joni Mitchell/Cersei Lannister sort of way, and while I long for the days of her satin smooth locks, she’s a grown-ass madam now and can do whatever she wants.

*whispers* Slay, baby. Slay.


If you were wondering, Louis isn’t dead so much as imprisoned for a coup he did commit, sentenced to death for a murder he didn’t commit, and rescued from both by a Dementor apparently working for Elizabeth. Pretty sure that means we’re going to have to deal with more of his nonsense next season…sigh.

Yay for getting your contract renewed, Sean Teale. Boo for not taking your shirt off.


WTF #4: The Delphine Went Down to the Prince of Georgia

I would not want to be a maid at French Court, would you?


There’s always something lurking in the darkness. It used to be the Darkness lurking in the darkness, and Claude thinks it’s Delphine lurking in the darkness, but I suspect whatever darkness is lurking in the darkness is male. It was also hella difficult to get a picture of.


Of course, human beings can be quite as barbarous as monsters. Kenna attends Renaude’s execution clad in camouflage brown with copper accessories. It seems like she’s trying to disappear into her own hair, but what are you supposed to wear to a hanging? Blood orange?


Renaude yodels to Kenna to beware Elizabeth, who has not only political but also personal beef with Mary, and with a short drop and a sudden stop, Kenaude is over.

Why would Elizabeth be bothered about Mary on a personal level, though? It’s not like they both had red hair or Marie de Guise reportedly laughed herself sick while Elizabeth’s troops perished on her castle walls…nope, nothing like that for the CW!


Not to worry about Renaude, though, because as every single one of us knew from the first, he was just a rebound, so Kenna reuses one of her pretty lavender and foil dresses and gets right back on the horse.


Woah, Kennash.


No, I mean it, woah, Kennash. With her totally non-evil magical powers, Delphine accidentally informs Bash Kenna is pregnant with Renaude’s baby. Accidentally, mind you.

Stop looking like butter wouldn’t melt in your evil mouth, you b-word witch. Kenna looks a gazillion times better in brown than you do.


Bash does not react well, and I’m very disappointed in him. Not only is Kenna going to be the most boho baby mama ever, but he himself is illegitimate, and should know better than to be a douchebag in a time before birth control.

You know Narcisse would totally adopt Lola’s baby, yet Bash is supposed to be the good one.


A good one who makes bad choices, I guess, because Delphine’s level of hot so does not correlate with her level of crazy. She weighs more than a duck, so it’s time for her to fry.


And for Bash to have weird sex dreams about her, because of that binding business she did with his bloody shirt and a guy named Marcel.


Bash wakes to find Delphine disco inferno-ing, and begins to feel his own flesh sizzling. Ruh-roh. Why do I get the feeling she’s going to—



So I guess Alexandra Ordolis can keep paying her rent next season too. Double sigh.


Fingers crossed, Kenna and her possibly ginger baby won’t be drawn into it. I don’t know if this is Lady Kenna or Caitlin Stasey, but Kenna’s gone from wailing and gnashing her teeth whenever anything goes wrong for her to packing up her troubles in her old kitsch bag and finding a new boyf, be he soldier, sailor, butcher, baker, or candlestick maker.


She departs France, taking her summer wardrobe of pastels and luminizing primer with her, and ends up taking tea with this patootie, the new king of Imereti. He’s very into boats.

He’s also about twelve, but that’s not going to stop Kenna from being his penpal (*wink*) and visiting him in several months (*wink wink*) or eventually becoming Tsarina of all the Russias (because one, she looks glorious in fur, and two, Imereti is the ye olde name for Georgia, which is in the Black Sea, and no, isn’t just an American state with excellent peaches).


WTF #3: Dead Man Horseback-Riding

I was going to make a snarky comment about how a pimpin’ rug isn’t going to save Francis from Condé’s mercenaries, but it turns out he’s wearing a breastplate after all.



Also, oooh. Remember when it was season one and Francis wore those chainmail effect sweaters and was halfway to hot? I’m feeling that right now.


So is Mary, it seems. I’m slightly worried by her pseudo-Catherine ruffled collar, but the rest of the outfit — the braided hair, the light makeup, the tiara it doesn’t look like you could lose an eye on — is very young and sweet. You’d don armour for her, admit it.


Her excuse for regressing to season two nastiness, meaning a choker because they’re hot right now and Reign wants to be down with the kids, another necklace because why not, flat-ironed hair and icky textured wallpaper made into a dress, is that she’s visiting Louis in the dungeons and clearly doesn’t want to allure him.


Luckily, Francis turns up to accuse Condé of kidnapping his baby, whose name no one can remember, and Lola, who really didn’t deserve that plotline.


And God only knows how Mary loves her sensitive men.

Luckily, this is the moment where Narcisse bursts in to save the day, but more on that later.


Long story short, Baby Frola lives to be irrelevant another day, and Catherine is exiled for snatching him for dramatic purposes. Francis gets togged up in his kingly regalia to smack down his mother, but definitely overdoes it a bit: crown, chain, sash, sword, buckles…

Bash wears one of those sashes too. Does it have a purpose, or were they both runners-up for Miss Hawaiian Tropics in 1558?


Let’s get real for a moment here. Yes, I’m happy Frary are snogging again, and that Francis has forgiven her for getting it on with a brown haired man with a beard (again).


What je suis not happy about is that the affair was as a consequence of Mary’s rape and her isolation from Francis, which she keeps apologising for. Not only was the rape super-duper unnecessary, it’s now something she has to apologise for? Francis has to give her for pulling away and seeking comfort where she could. Nuh-uh, the CW.

Not even for shots like this will I forgive them.


I guess Francis is getting his comeuppance anyhoo, as Nostradamus (and where the heck has he been, hmmm?) emerges from the darkness (although he himself is not the Darkness) to inform the audience Francis is still dying from his mystery ear ailment. They both ardently hope Mary will get pregnant before the show gets cancelled.

She won’t.


WTF #2: Ladies-in-Waiting in Vain

Narcisse is having a bad day, y’all. This is evidenced by the fact that Catherine says, “I want to feel your arms,” and I have to question whether she means while they’re still on his body.


Even after she and her son have been taken, Narcisse insists Lola is alive because of reasons (he can feel it in his waters? In his bathwaters?) and he’s the only man to do her find her.

This girlfriend-off isn’t even a thing. Narcisse loves Lola as much as we at YKYLF do.


Anyway, Stéphane pops his best leather collar, cuts off a dude’s finger and finds his lady love, cunningly hidden in a room behind an unlocked door. The mind boggles.


I assume this room is equipped with a curling iron, because neither Lola’s hair or her grasp of maroon have failed her. Is there a Renaissance formula for iron hold hairspray?

I need Lolcisse to happen so much at this point, I can feel it in my teeth. He’s supposed to be this legendary lover, and the last time she did it was with Francis – who’s evidently a lighter shade of vanilla in the sack – and they’ve been dirty talking forever AND I JUST NEED IT, OKAY?


Moving on…weren’t we only recently mourning the loss of the ladies who windowseat?


They’re all stunning as ever. A little older, perhaps, and a little wiser, and a little less inclined to wear Cookie Monster fur or birdcage veils or duodecopeplums, but still stunning. Snaps for Greer for dressing very nearly appropriately for the period, and Kenna for just glowing.


Lola had to let the side down by wearing an old dress, didn’t she?


That said, she’s had a traumatic season, and her earlobes can’t be comfortable with all that Bollywood bling hanging off them, and she had to do it with Francis, for God’s sake.

Mary, though. Mary in silver gossamer like a sylph, Mary with layers of tissue, Mary with her puffed sleeves and her skirts that go on for days. Mary, though.


Just look at those flowers. Just gaze upon the perfection of the metallic flowers adorning her neckline, and the thistle pattern representing Scotland on the fabric, and sure, the cut of this gown is far more Marie Antoinette than Mary, Queen of Scots, but Adelaide Kane is unfairly beautiful, so nyah.

Ugh, I would get married in this dress…or to this dress, actually. Double nyah.


WTF #1: Game of Thrones

As Catherine starts off this episode losing her isht over Mary’s defection, I decided to give her some nice beachy props to help her relax. Also, they made me giggle.


Catherine appears to be espousing this bizarre orifice-shaped collar Narcisse wears sometimes, but she can’t be faulted for her accessories. I always opt for gold lace and pearls when I’m waiting out a siege too, because that’s what Eleanor Waldorf would wear.


Catherine’s grand plan, when she finds out Francis is refusing to execute Condé, is to make it seem as though he’s had baby Baron de Whatsit kidnapped and killed, but Narcisse wants to know what love is and wants Lola to show him, so he tells on her to Mary, who tells on her to Francis. Before that, though, there’s a showdown.

And for this showdown, Catherine looks glorious. Gold cape. Pearls. Gamorous hairpiece. More pearls. Matching separates. Even more pearls.


She even spits in Narcisse’s face. Keeping it classy even in exile, Cathy.


I’d like to take a break from our regularly scheduled snark to point out no servant would be in the same hallway as the Queen of Motherfreaking England. Elizabeth had a habit of chucking her shoes at people who didn’t bring her gifts, and laundry is not a gift.


Oopsie-poopsie, did I just let the cat out of the bag?


Catherine, who must think it’s a good idea to flaunt her Catholicism in front of a Protestant queen who probably uses the blood of her enemies as a moisturiser, makes the most of her banishment by offering Elizabeth her services in bringing down Mary.

Another real moment for you: no one in their right mind would do this. Elizabeth would take one look at the mother of the King of France before locking her up and threatening Francis with her death unless he gave her what she wanted, from a pony to a province. Exile or not, he’d have to give in, so this is by far the stupidest thing Catherine has ever done ever.


Oh, and Elizabeth is so adorable. She looks like a ginger Gwen Stefani and she talks like she wants to spank you. Any redhead who wears crimson with this much panache is fine by me, and not only because she’s been my idol forever. I’m a history geek, guilty as charged.

Here endeth the season, my pretties! As promised by the very nature of Reign, it went from the sublime to the ridiculous to the even more ridiculous, with some fashion along the way. Until next season, may your lives be riddled with sexy pagans, magical nuns, antiheroes bearing bathtubs and Torrance Coombs’ Twitter feed. Ta-ra!