"Mama, she's here!" Francis chirps as he finally catches sight of the white leather carriage Mary had been gifted last Christmastide by her great uncle, the Duke of Guise. He has not seen her in weeks, and his eyes instantly brighten when he sees her personal mode of transport. Carried by two black and two white stallions -gifted by her Scottish godfather for her last birthday- that not even the boys own parents were allowed to use. It gives the horses an air of mystique, and the nine year old feels genuine honour at being allowed to ride them during their riding lessons.
She, Kenna, Greer, Aylee and Lola had spent the summer at the Duke de Guise's estate. A holiday away from lessons of propriety and etiquette, while Mary had confined in him that she was glad to be away from the overbearing eye of the Consort of France. Ever since Catherine had slapped her so hard there had been a bruise on Mary's face for almost three weeks for allowing Francis to climb trees with her ladies and Sebastian and a few of the nobility children residing in Court. It had caused a scandal and nearly cost France the precious Scottish alliance, even more valuable with the rumours of Queen Mary Tudor's recent ill health after a false pregnancy. So, Duke Claude de Guise offered his home to his young niece, while Catherine was given time to relish in the girls absence and thorough scoldings from Henry in the ways to keep the girl happy, so the girl would eventually deliver them an imperial heir and England into the palm of their hands.
Francis had wept the day Mary and her ladies left for their trip, begged his father to let him go to, clung to Mary as she was ushered into that same carriage. He had thrown off his mothers arms and uncared for her tears, running away into the now almost empty nursery
The Dauphin of France pushes himself off of the cushioned window seats of the nursery, where Catherine sat, feeding Louis the precious last drips of her breastmilk, although she grieved the prospect of this bond being severed with her latest Prince of France. By the day, her milk dries up bit by bit, and she clings to her boys more and more with it.
"Francis, slow down! Be careful!"
But the Queen of France is ignored completely by her golden boy, who races down the hallways in a way so unbecoming by a Prince, but he cares not of the gasps and whispers as he races past the servants and the nobles. He ignores them, doesn't even bow to his father as he skates past and gallops over towards the front lawn just as the trumpets hoot and his fiancée is announced.
"Introducing Her Majesty, Mary, of the house de Guise and clan Stuart, first of her name, by the grace of God, Queen Regnant of Scotland and it's isles." the squire bellows as the footman pops off his place at the back of the carriage and places the wooden box at the door, opening it wide and offering a hand.
A pale hand covered in white lace covers his own, a sleeve of lilac taffeta extending up the arm as the girl herself comes out of her carriage. Sleeves of taffeta give way to a Bardot neckline and a white lace cape. Ruched skirts with white tulle over the silk sparsely decorated with small white roses. The girls' hair is flowing over her shoulders, a crown of silver leaves and diamonds over her forehead, matching earrings and necklace skating over her collarbones and shoulders.
Her eyes instantly land on him, and she smiles widely.
"Mary!" he cries out, running towards her to meet her in a tight embrace. And he's very glad to see that the handprint on her cheek has now disappeared.
"I've missed you." he whispers into her hair.
"Not as much as I have you, Princeling."
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!-
