You Are My Light Part II

325 - Bliss

"Mama! Mama!"

Mary looked up from her parchment, blackened quill in hand, as the voices of her children reach her ears. She licks her lips, straightening up in her chair, adjusting the baby boy on her breast -who was hidden beneath a silk blanket-, as the door opens and three Valois-Angoulème-Stuart Princesses come running in their mothers chambers. Each identical in every way, from their precious four year old faces, to their dusty rose gowns that they had recieved from their beloved grandmother last Christmastide, to the way they hike up their skirts to run in, to the way their curls are messy from their running and their little gaits as they run towards their mother. Each beautiful and precious and so wanted.

"Mama!" The eldest of the three squeals, quickly squatting the best curtsey the three of them could preform at such a tender age, before rushing over and beaming up at their mother. "Mama, come! Come quick!"

Glancing down to make sure her newborn Prince wouldn't shuffle and scream at the noise his sisters were making, Mary smiles down at her daughter as she's joined at the hip by her two sisters.

"Isabella," she address the middle child, beaming and bright with golden curls and bright blue eyes. "My darling, what do you want me to see?"

"Oh, mama!" The Princess to the left gasps, reaching up to grasp at Mary's wrist as she finally puts the quill in the ink pot. "Papa has sent us all the most magical gifts!" She jumps up and down, her white and dusty rose gown moving with her. She clenches at her skirts, keeping them quiet. "All of us, mama, the most beautiful surprise!" Princess Isabella Rosealie Meredith Isla smiles brightly, her little cheeks rosy with her running.

"Has he?" The Queen of Scots and acting Regent of France asks, licking her lips as she pushes her chair to the side, so she can face her -up until recently- youngest children. "Tell me, my Victoria, what has your Papa gifted you?"

Princess Victoria Elizabeth Charlotte Louise inhales as she starts to talk. "Mama, ten horses! Ten beautiful horses from the south for all of us, mama! You must come see them!" Her black curls and hazel eyes are big as she locks eyes with her mother. "Quick, you must see!"

"Gently, darling." Mary gently chastised the girl as she began to pull a little to roughly, a little too close to the newest Prince of Valois-Angoulème blood. "Tell me, have you all claimed a horse from your Papa?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" The third sister squeals, red curls and green eyes shining so brightly in the early autumnal sunlight. "I have the prettiest one, mama. I've called him étoile, he is so lovely, he's got a white coat with a brown mane, he's so small, Timothy says he needs to grow before we can ride him, but mama, please, you must come see!"

Princess Adelaide Ophelia Alexandra Lucette, the youngest of the three by a few minutes, giggles as Mary ruffles her hair and gives her a twirl.

"I'll be down shortly, my darlings. I have to finish my letter and put Louis to his cot. Run along to see your horses and I'll be down as soon as I can."

The Princesses give a synconised squat that becomes closer and closer to a curtsey by the day, before rushing out of the door, shepherded by three nannies, as the door closes and Mary is left in silence.

She removes the silk blanket covering her baby boy and admires his face. His beautiful face of soft skin, a button nose, squishy cheeks and long dark lashes. Blue eyes blink up at her, and she smiles at the baby she never thought she'd have.

The King and Queen of Scots and France had a mightily impressive brood, the nursery filling by the year at one point in their marriage. Gone were the days of worries of fertility, the royal couple of Europe welcoming their eleventh child at the height of summer.

First came the Dauphin and Duke of Rothsay, James, her beautiful perfect boy, who was the spitting image of his father in looks and temperament. Brave and strong and steadfast and bright and brilliant, he made Mary more and more proud every single day. Gone are the days of him fighting with Jean-Philippe when they were children -barely seven months apart-, he was growing into a brave, strong, and a just King. It sometimes made Mary sad that she would never see him rule, but what better gift could she give her countries than a perfect future King?

Princess Annelice came within the year of James' birth, her mothers twin in looks, but still the blonde and blue eyes of their father came through in their first girl together. Mary is glad for it, although she does adore to see a girl so headstrong and bright and wild drive the French Court wild in the same way she did two decades ago.

Prince Francis was just the same, born within the year of his sister and every inch his father's son, although his temperament was far more Sebastian than it was Francis. He and his Uncle bonded over fishing trips and journeys into the countryside, and who would obviously been first thought of in this horse gift the eldest sons of Henri II had sent for them.

The twins, Edward and Henry, had arrived when the youngest Valois was eighteen months old. Catherine had banned Francis from sleeping in his wife's chambers for several months after the baby was born, telling him to keep his hands to himself and his breeches up for once in their marriage. It had sent them into such laughter that they couldn't lay together for weeks after they had permission, since the two of them would just burst into laughter at the memory.

Edward and Henry clearly favoured their Stuart genes, coming out black haired and green eyed, even more mischievous and wild and unpredictable than their mother had been. The boys loved nothing more than running outside in the dewy grass and swinging practice swords at each other, and it warmed Mary's heart to finally see herself reflected in their children.

Vivienne came next, hazel eyes and light brown haired, serene and perfect and a promising artist, while Genèvieve was blonde and blue eyed and so sweet and gentle that she had the entire French Court wrapped around her finger.

The pregnancy after came the tipping point in the progression of their relationship. Mary was sickened in a way she hadn't been since her first pregnancy loss. Taking to her bed early on in the pregnancy, her stomach so large, larger than it had ever been before, that physicans had wondered and feared that she was growing a sickness inside her, and not just a baby.

Almost three days of labour and a frightening amount of blood loss had left Mary weakened and still no baby in sight. Midwives had had to reach inside and turn each baby with their hands, and it had damn near killed the Queen of France and Scots. So much so that preparations had been made for her body to be transported home for burial and her funeral planned in France. It had been touch and go for a while, all that time the King of France on his knees by his wife's bed, tears streaming down his face, running down his palms and through the golden links of his rosary. He prays and begs and cries for his wife's health to be restored, and by some miracle, she had been spared from death. On the condition of no more pregnancies, as demanded by the midwives.

They had tried. They had really tried, taking advice from Madames and Mistresses on how to prevent a pregnancy, and it had worked for years until it didn't.

Mary had been terrified the whole time, that something would go wrong and something within her was irreversibly damaged from the triplets birth that it would harm her sweet child within her. And Francis had been no better, fretting around her every night and refusing to be parted from her when she took to her confinement. But by a miracle, the labour was smooth -as smooth as things of the nature can be- and her precious Louis Olivière Timothy Alexander was in their arms, healthy and safe and serene and peaceful.

Looking into the eyes of her baby, she misses his father more and more. But it's not as if he will be gone for long, just a week or so more. He's gone with James and Sebastian and Leith to the south for a trade deal. It's always imperative for the heir to be involved in deals that are all in all a safe, low risk operation. It's why she brings him to the clans in Scotland when the family move across the water for their half-a-year term in each country they rule over.

But still, she misses him and she misses her boy, but knows they will return to her soon.

For now, she has some horses to see.