"Majesty." Miss Cecilia curtseys, straightening her blue petticoat to look her Queen in the eye as the aforementioned Queen locks eyes with her servant. Blue meet gold, and the girl relaxes at the smile upon the Queen of Scotland's face.
Mary can understand why the court worries for her wellbeing, both mental and physical, nowadays. With every passing child that leaves her womb and walks this earth, her chances of misery and darkness only increase. Catherine says it's a miracle she hasn't felt the darkness after a birth, she herself went through it four times in her litter of nine. But, here Mary sits, fresh out of childbirth and a ninth child at her breast, and she is as exuberant as she was when the Duke of Rothsay had been born almost fourteen winters ago.
"Miss Babenberg, what can I do for you?" Mary takes a moment to glance down at her modesty, making sure the Princess Victoria Adelaide Odilia is safely latched and contented, before looking back at the golden haired girl who stands before her.
"Your Grace, the Duke of Rothsay, and Maester Phillip Oestrin. They wish an audience, should I let them in, Madame?"
Mary frowns at the hint she is given from the girls' words, but licks her lips and nods anyway. The squire, her bastard nephew Gregory Francois, comes in first, giving her a curt nod.
"Majesty, your son, the Prince James, Dauphin and Duke of Rothsay. With him, mister Phillip Oestrin." Gregory introduces, before walking away and allowing his Queen to set sight upon his future King and the former protégé of Nostradamus himself.
"Thank you, nephew." Mary covers her chest with a pink crocheted blanket and raises to her full height, her black and red gown trailing behind her as she rounds her desk, forgetting about the letter she is writing to the Kings of Sweden and Norway, offering a marriage alliance between either of their latter born sons. The baby in which she corresponds her future sniffs angrily at being covered, wiggling until Mary lets her have a couple more inches of space, and her mother adjusts her hold on the baby when her firstborn child walks in, a cloth pressed against his nose and mouth.
Mary frowns at the state of her heir. All blonde curls and blue eyes, with her fiery temperament and his grandmothers' venomous tounge. When she used to smile at the face she so adores, now, Mary frowns in confusion at his tousled hair, the bloody cloth, the askew clothes.
"Madame." Phillip bows deeply. "We're here to inform you of a predicament between the Dauphin and the Baron de Velay."
Mary sighs, perching on the desk. "Another one?" her voice is gentle. "What could have possibly happened, now?"
"Mother." James licks his lip. "Jean, he saunters into the salon, twirling the new blade that father made him. Started speaking of all their time in the armourments factory and with the smithies in town, said that he would always be above us in fathers' eyes, because of their time together. Said he loved him more, because he chose to keep him close, even to your and our detriment. While he was chosen, we were forced upon father. He was a luxury, us a nessecerity. Geneviève, and Vivienne and Jacob, they began to get so upset, they cried at his words, and Anne struck him before I could stop her. He rose the hilt of his blade to her, and I couldn't let him hurt my sister, mama. So we began to fight, only pulled away when the shrieking of the salon alerted the guards. And I was left with-" he gestures to his face.
"The damage is not great, Majesty. Just a split lip, some bruising to the face. The Dauphin will heal within a fortnight."
"Good." Mary sighs, adjusting her hold on the babe to touch her other. "Only another few more weeks of your half brother, and then we will be rid of him for the half year. You must hold on until then, my sweet boy." Mary's voice is tender, her small fingers brushing the face of her beloved firstborn boy. He tries to smile for her.
"I know, mother. Fathers' stubbornness is a burden we all must bare."
"Indeed, my little one. Now, wash your face and go to the ice chambers, press some to your cheek. And I will speak to Francis about housing Jean elsewhere for now."
"Truly?"
"I cannot promise any results, but I'll try. He is too stubborn for his own good when it comes to his first son, the entire court knows it. But he will be here in France when we go to Scotland, your fists and your siblings' honour will heal and be in tact."
James half smiles. "Only a few more weeks."
"Only a few more."
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!-
