You Are My Light Part II

298 - Worries

If possible, Mary had been more worried than Francis.

And it had confused the Dauphin, because the young Queen of Scots had never been in the favour of the Queen Consort of France, and all of court knew that the Queen Catherine had always hated the raven haired Reignette of the French Court. Just as Catherine hates Sebastian de Portiers and the handful of Scottish children that had accompanied the young Queen from the land of their blood. But still, the girl sits next to him in the chambers next to the birthing suite, her eyes wide as the Queen still screams.

Last time, with the birth of Margaret, Francis had been tempted to bash his head into the wall to deafening the sounds of his mother crying out in pain as she birthed the baby in her womb. It has been her comforting him then, despite the hatred Mary feels from Catherine's constant glare at her, and the young Queen had rubbed his back and held his hand and nursed him with broth when he coughed himself sick with worry for his beloved mother.

But this time, it's Mary who's petrified.

"What's the matter?" Francis murmurs, keeping quiet so he does not disturb the sleeping group of little Scottish nobility and French royalty. They have been lulled to sleep by hot milk, and the cries of the Queen and the yells of the midwives and physicans and the booms of his father, these things do not stir them, but still, he worries for his voice to awaken them.

"I-I-" Mary stutters, in that way that had her slapped by the Queen of France in those first few weeks in France, when she couldn't fully engross the Queen in French conversation. "I worry."

"Clearly." Francis inches closer, taking her hand in his. "Why?"

"Sir Bastienne and Madame Le Claire, they tell me that when we are wed, we have to have children." she begins. Francis is confused, even more than before.

"Yes? We've known this for months, Riegenne." The blonde boy says, pushing himself to face her properly. "Years, since we were five. Why does it worry you now?"

"They tell me that we have to have children, that I will have to go through labours and pregnancies." She whispers. "It will hurt, yes? Hurt very badly, make me scream as your mother screams." She whispers, pulling her lips in as another contraction wracks the Italian Queen, they can almost feel the vibration in the wall that separates the current to the future rulers of France. The midwives yell, and his father grunts.

"Yes." He whispers. "But we have known about this for seven years, why does it scare you now, Reignette?" The Dauphin asks, brushing the tear that streaks down her face as her anxiety wracks through her.

"Because it is real now." Mary whispers. "Francis, I bleed every month. The maesters tell me that I can carry children, your children. The prospect is real, and it scares me so." She pulls back to look him in the eye. "She has gone from morning to night, and you have seen the bloody sheets. Women die in childbirth, Francis. And the prospect becomes more real with the blood. It's less than two years away until we are eligible, and I cannot bare the thought of dying like that."

"Mary, you're not going to die." Francis says, grasping her hands in his. "You're not like my mother, you're younger, stronger, never held a child before. Surely it's easier when you are young, yes? And we are very young, there's no need to burden yourself with things such as this. We are not yet wed, let alone expecting a child. And even though it sounds hard to have a baby, if my mother can do it, you can too. She has not died, and you will not, too. We will have a long and peaceful reign with many children before that happens, Mary. Don't think of such melancholy, it will do you no good. Now, have a breath and try to calm yourself, there will be a new baby for us to meet in the morning."

"You mean, for you and your brothers and sisters to meet." Mary chuckles. "Sebastian, myself and my ladies, we will never be let into the Royal nursery. We'll be struck if we even set a foot on the carpet." She laughs again. "Don't you remember how she struck me in the summer when we were in the rose gardens, and you happened to sneeze because of the pollen? I was accused of not caring for you and wishing you into a sickbed, and got a cheek redder than yours for the trouble."

"I'll tell my father about it when the baby is born, yes? Call it issues in the alliance that threatens the prospect of a French King on the English throne." Francis grins.

"We all know he will never stand against her, but it is worth a shot. Otherwise my mother will bring down thunder on him." Mary smiles.

"Marie de Guise, a force of nature." Francis chuckles. Mary laughs quietly. "Queens controlling a King, what a prospect."

"We will be different." Mary is quiet. "Won't we?"

"Of course we will, Mary."