"You are beautiful, my girl." The Queen of Scots says, running the comb through her Princess' long, blonde hair. The silver runs through the hair like fingers through water, different shades of blonde mixing together in a beautiful, soft cascade that smells of lavender and rosemary. The child holds still, fiddling with the small figurine in her hands, bright blue eyes shining when the glances up.
"Mama, can you braid it?" The Princess Aylee Victoria Adeliade Charlotte asks, turning in her chair to look at her mother. "The one that looks like the rose? Can we put these in there, mama?" She extends a handful of red roses, carefully carved to be blunted without thorns by the King himself, towards her mother, who takes them with a smile.
"Of course, my little rose." Mary smiles, running her fingers through her secondborn daughter's hair, so unlike her elder sisters in every way possible. "Shall we let you borrow one of mama's tiaras? Let you shine like a diamond?"
Aylee gasps, delighted. "Oh, yes mama! Please! The one on satin strings that looks like roses and leaves!" She cries out, turning again in the white and silver silk chair on dark oak chairlegs and back.
Mary smiles at her, nodding. "Of course, my precious one. Go and fetch it while mama makes these fit in your hair." She says, grinning as Aylee hops up, her white satin and silver lace dress billowing behind her as she runs, just like her mother did so long ago in these very halls. Although Catherine would sooner have slit her golden child's throat rather than run a comb through the Queen of Scot's hair.
The Queen of Scots and France, newly acquainted Princess of Wales, buisies herself with the rather unladylike task of snapping the stems of the roses, dirtying her white silk gloves in the process, smiling again at her little girl running at her with the crown held delicately in her hands.
Diamonds in the shape of roses and leaves on vines, held together by small pieces of silver, a foot long until tied off by white satin strings to hold it on the head. A pretty piece, light enough for a child to hold onto for a while, sturdy enough to endure being worn while running around.
Mary braids two thick sections on either side of the child's head, bringing them to the back to wind the six sections together, twisting them together and tying them off with a small ribbon, before twisting it up, creating the illusion of a blonde rose at the back of Aylee's head. The child gasps in delight when Mary grabs a small mirror to show the child, who stares into the one in front of her, at the Queen's very own dressing table.
Mary winds the roses into the braids upon odd additions, securing them with small pins, before taking the tiara from the child's hands and placing it upon her hairline, tucking the strings behind her ears. She ties it tightly around the nape of her neck, securing it with another couple of pins.
"There you go, beautiful girl." Mary smiles. "Every inch a princess." Aylee smiles widely into the mirror. The beauty of her mother with the striking features of her father.
She giggles as Mary helps her up and gives her a twirl.
"Very beautiful, dear girl." Mary smiles. "You want to feel your brother or sister?" She asks, touching her daughters wrist to guide it up to her substantial stomach. It's the last few days before her confinement, and she wants to spend as much time as she can with the children as possible. She wouldn't see them again until the baby was born and the bleeding had stopped, and grives the prospect more than a Queen really should.
Aylee gasps at the feeling of a swift tap on her hand from the foot underneath her mother's skin. "Brother or sister?" She asks. "Mama, there's so many already!"
"There is, my little rose." The Queen agrees, licking her lips as a sudden craving for strawberry tarts surges through her.
"There's James, Anne, Francis, Edward and Henry, me, Genevive and Vivienne, Alistair, and Tobias. And now another!"
"We are blessed with you all, my dear girl." Mary strokes her daughters cheek. "Now, how about you have a look through mama's necklaces, see which one you want to borrow to finish your look?"
Aylee gasps. "Yes, please!"
"Off we go, then!"
~|~
Mary deserved to be a mum!
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!-
