"Majesty! Majesty!" Mary hears. She looks up from the baby at her breast and watches the door open and one of the nursemaids come rushing in in a flitter of beige skirts and brown petticoats. The girl, Charlotte, sinks deep into a curtsey, barely keeping her balance, before getting up and rushing towards the Queen of Scots and France.
"Charlotte, dear girl, what is it? Is it the children?" Mary asks, glancing down at the two babies who suckle unperturbed, before back up at the blonde maid. She frantically pushes her askew hair from her face and back into her scarf that sits on top of her head, licking her lips as she speaks again.
"Majesty, I'm so sorry to interrupt you during the Princess' feed, but the children, there has been an emergency!" She pants.
"Emergency? What's happened? Is somebody sick, hurt?" If she wasn't feeding her new daughters, Mary would have stood and ordered the girl to take her to the nursery so she could see for herself what had spooked the girl so badly. But it will take too long to unlatch and try to settle the babies, before righting her clothes and making herself presentable for the court. At least they are spending the rest of the summer in Scotland, and don't need to worry about the vanity of the French Court. Her homeland has lesser standards for frivolities such as this, and she is grateful for it.
"Madam, it is the Duke of Rothsay, the Dauphin, and the King's eldest son. They have fought in the nursery, highness! The Crown Prince, he bleeds from his lip, but he has broken the Baron of Velay's nose!" Mary's eyebrows rise. Of course, Francis' eldest two sons had never gotten along, but they had never came to such blows before.
"Oh? My son, he is unhurt, apart from his lip? He is taken care of?" The Queen asks, adjusting the baby on the left as she began to slip.
"Yes, my Queen. Our heir is fine apart from his cut, the physicians have seen to him, dabbed the blood away and applied a salve. But the Baron-"
"I didn't ask for him, Charlotte. My husband's bastard is his concern, not mine. What did they fight about? What brought them to blows?" She asks, taking a sip of the grape juice in her goblet. Its a commissioned blend from the vineyards of Toussaint, wine without that that makes one giddy into the night. A clever idea, in fact, for Mary didn't want to indulge if it meant her two girls suffered in the process.
"Majesty, they say that the Baron de Velay was on a verbal tirade against the Princes, Edward and Henry. Pushing and shoving without direct cause. The Dauphin took matters into his own hands, and words were traded, such cruel words, along with fists." It seems the nanny is content to stop her story there, but Mary's curiosity is not sated, not at all.
"What was said? Verbal altercations can be worse than physical madame." she says, adjusting the babe on the left as she starts to lean too far away.
"The Baron de Velay was full of envy that the Dauphin has respect, a crown, and royal blood. And he told him so, while your Majesties son retorted that he would never be more than a bottom of the barrel bastard, that he would never have respect or holdings, that he only lives in luxury because of the King's affection, yet the moment -God forgive me- the Dauphin himself took the throne of France, he would take everything from him and the whore he calls a mother." The girl finishes quietly.
Mary whistles, long and high. "Goodness, my son has indeed inherited the Medici's venomous tounge, has he not? He can be every bit the serpent his grandmother is, it seems." she sits back in her chair. Good boy, she thinks with a grin, knowing full well she would annoy Francis when she brought their eldest boy candied berries and honey biscuits later that night. But, it bothers her not, the boys had never gotten along, ever since Jean-Philippe was pushed out of the royal nursery by the nannies after the queen had finally borne a healthy son.
It seems Francis' wish that Jean and James would grow up to echo himself and Sebastian had gone up in smoke completely, for bloodied fists and venomous words could not be ignored anymore.
Although she had accepted the child would live within her home when Francis' bastard boy had been christened, Mary could not help but be relieved when she and her growing family would finally leave France to spring and summer in her beloved northern homeland, leaving the bastard boy and his treacherous mother behind. Jean would never walk in the walls of her beloved Edinburgh castle, the rules were all different when the King and Queen of France and Scots changed their home. And while Francis may decree to see his bastard run around with all the other bastardy runts in French Court, the boy was banned from Mary's blood written home, and the couple had spent many nights arguing over it, even after Mary had borne and held James in her arms.
They had came to the conclusion that he would not go to Scotland with the tribe, but Francis would go back to visit him in the beginnings of summer for a week or two, especially with the waters calm now that Elizabeth had busied herself with her Spanish war. They would be leaving in just over four months to introduce the Princesses Vivienne and Genevieve to the northern beauty of their mothers home. She was so looking forward to the trip, and knew James was, too, even with the flaring tempers of the two eldest sons of Francis II of France.
Her beloved child was only eight, and to hear words of such contempt slip through those lips he had inherited from her, even from a second hand source, had almost amused her. The boys had never gotten along, no matter how keen Francis was to keep them housed together, even if it was only for half the year, had seemed to have the opposite effect. It even had consequence for the boys own mother, seeing as Lola was just as whispered about and unwed, courtiers too nervous to get on the Queen's negative side, knowing that she had the King's ear in all matters apart from this one. Time had made her feared and respected, as well as loved, and she now understands Catherine's coldness in those early years as a child.
The Queen of Scots had kept her word that there was no hate or venom slipping from her own lips about the child, but she could do nothing to dissuade the boy she borne from expressing his hate and frustration about his half brother. It seemed that the boys could agree on nothing, and everything lead to an argument of some sort, even as little toddler tempers flared and the two had flung colourful blocks at each other, not the fists of nowadays.
"Court says that the Dauphin has the Queen Mother's vengeful heart when it comes to those who threaten his family, have said so since the boys were old enough to talk." the girl says, interrupting Mary's thoughts,
"I will not disagree, Madame. I will go to him, as soon as the girls are finished. Ensure the nursery has Erica, Louise and Maddalena, to look after them as they sleep." she orders.
"Yes, your Majesty." she bows, and scurries out.
Mary whistles again, slouching back into her chair, the soft, simple dress of silk and tulle rustling with her movements, bare chest slipping free from the ravenous suckles of the twin Princesses. The babies glare furiously, until Mary shuffles them forwards, her bare, corset free waist, quickly covered by hungry babies. She smiles at them, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders to warm her, and cover her should any other frantic nannies run in.
Well, Francis, have those rose coloured spectacles slipped from your nose yet, beloved husband?
(/)
Tell me Francis wouldn't be this stubborn in this circumstance
Comments please!
YOU ARE READING
You Are My Light Part II
Historical Fiction-Reign Oneshots/Taking Requests- The world can be dark, Mary, and uncertain and cruel. The only thing that matters is that we face it together. No matter what happens, you are my light. Part 2! -Read TEML first!-
