"Look at you." the voice says.
Princess Mary of the Clan Stuart, House de Guise, Duchess of Rothsay and the soon to be Dauphiness of France, Duchess of Anjou, turns in her white wedding dress, the layers of chiffon, tulle, taffeta and lace blossoming like a flower in spring as she faces her father and King.
"Papa." Mary quickly drops to a curtsey, her gown rustling in the motion and huffing as it was raised as the girl does, her fathers warm hands on her shoulders as he bids her raise.
"None of that, not today." King James, fifth of his name, King of Scots and it's isles, smiles at his daughter and heir. Their hair matches, as do their eyes, all raven curls and golden iris', gleeming in the snow of her wedding day.
"You are beautiful, my girl. The image of your mother." He says, fixing the layers of diamonds and silver at her throat and chest. "She would be proud to see you, this day." James finishes.
Mary's eyes glitter with tears for the mother who had died in childbirth when she was five years on this earth. Along with her darling baby brother Jacob, who had been born so pale and little and blue that it had caused her midwives to shriek in horror.
"I miss her, Papa." Mary whispers. Of course, the Queen Consort Marie de Guise had never been a warm mother, she had never felt a gentle embrace or a warm hand against her cheek. And it had been so long and Mary had been so young when she had died that she only really remembers dark hair and crystal blue eyes and a thin, pale countenance and who always smelt of mint and fresh pine. She didn't grieve, she couldn't grieve, but there's a special pain in the heart of a childless mother that would never truly heal, especially when the new Queen Consort had only taken into her arms her own three daughters, and was even cold to them for their lack of manliness.
"She would be proud, my girl. And you make all of our country proud, doing this for Scotland. You and Francis will make that bastard Queen Elizabeth tremble with the birth of a son. You'll have half of Europe at your fingertips, and our country will sing your name to the sky this night, our hungry will be fed and our children will be warm, because of you. And Francis is a good boy, he'll be a good man soon. You'll be happy, and you'll visit often, yes?"
"Of course, Papa."
"Good, now let's get you married, my girl."
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!-
