'Sometimes we have to sacrifice our youths in order to let people live.'
Tulia Byrne has been a Queen for longer than she could remember. Her story begins so carefree and so full of love and yet by the end of it you'll be wondering if you even know...
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March 1562
Five months had passed since the birth of France's new prince and the trio were currently relaxing in Paris, away from the trials and tribulations of court. Charles' mood had significantly changed since they left court, he had left behind his moody and sinister persona that he had acquired whilst being King.
Tulia relished in the change in her husbands mood, he had returned to how he was when they officially met in the autumn of fifteen-sixty. It was no secret that Charles had been forced to grow up quickly, all monarchs had to do it. But the when the prince was born, it was never a likely possibility that he would be King, he had two brothers between him and the throne but when Louis died at the age of one and Francis not so long ago, it became certain he would succeed his elder brother.
At court he was quiet and somewhat stressed, he lived every day trying to feel something, trying to make sure he did not become heartless like those before him. The love that the people had for Francis made the young King idolise his brother, he wanted desperately to be like him and so when he strayed from Francis' path he fell into a hole of self-loathing and pain.
In Paris, he was like a new man. All he did was smile, laugh and enjoy his time with his wife and new-born son. Young Prince Henri was a joy to be around, he had begun to be able to sit up on his own which amused him to no ends. The baby loved being able to see things, to see his mother more specifically. Every time Tulia spoke, whether it be in English or French, his small face would pull into a large smile and he would laugh in delight when she returned his smile with one of her own.
Although only young he had begun to look significantly like his father. He had a mass of brown hair that curled around his ear in a heart warming coil that Catherine de 'medici cooed at whenever she saw him. His face was always in the same cheeky smile that his father had, Henri's however was toothless, and his eyes were a deep blue, almost black, resembling his mothers in shape and colour.
Charles and Tulia were currently laid in bed with their son between them. Henri's little hands were grasped around a silver rattle that he would shake violently when his parents weren't paying him enough attention. The pair were due to head back to court the next day, it was safe to say that neither of them wanted to go return.
In their time staying in Paris she had received many letters that had either made her smile or made her frown. A letter came from Ireland requesting that she comes home with Charles and Henri so they could see her son for themselves, another letter came from England, a congratulations from Elizabeth with an attached execution notice for one of Mary's ex-ladies, Lola, who had been involved with an assassination attempt on Elizabeth, Another came from Scotland with more words of congratulations from Mary and her half-brother James who had built a friendly relationship with Tulia through their countless letters regarding Mary's safety and Elizabeth's downfall, and finally a letter from the Vatican. They were pleased to know that Tulia had given them a son for the future of the English throne, they had confirmed their support and that they would back her in her attempts to seize power in England.
