Christmas came. I'd given birth to a beautiful baby boy, named Edward, after my brother. He was a sweet child and stole my heart the minute I set eyes on him. Josh found his calling in Fatherhood; not a minute went by when he wasn't thinking about Edward. I could see it in his face. He changed considerably, becoming a matured person. Though he still enjoyed a little flirt with his wife now and again, and I couldn't resist playing along.
Nevertheless, it didn't feel like any time had passed when I came to the drastic realisation that sixteen years had passed since Edward's assassination and my ascension to the throne and that they'd been filled with serene, glorious peace. There was the usual court drama, that couldn't be avoided, but Josh and I.. we were content. Happy.
It seemed odd to think that my eldest son had been growing within me while Edward was alive. It seemed like such a long time ago. We had two daughters, Elizabeth, aged fourteen, and Mary, aged twelve. Josh spoilt them rotten; they were the delight of his life. Our youngest boy, Arthur, was much more on my side than Josh's. He didn't much care for his Father's boyishness and was much more delicate than his older brother, but there was nothing wrong in it. He was who he was and he should be proud of it, even if Josh got a little too boyish with his sons.
It was around eight when I woke. It was still dark outside, the fire still roasting opposite the bed. I could just make out the snowfall, a thick, white layer of snow laying on the ground. It was beautiful.
Josh woke up slowly, though he was as groggy as ever on mornings such as these. I could feel his gaze find me and, as he did most mornings, watch me for a while. Josh had a tendency to savour the moment.
"Good morning." He spoke in a husky, tired voice and stretched his arms out, yawning. I smiled when I heard his voice, reminding myself that I was in a reality which I wouldn't change for the world.
"Good morning." I snuggled up to him, pulling the duvet over us. The room was luke warm from the fire, though I the odd breeze found it's way in easy enough. "Merry Christmas." I glanced up at him, not expecting his response. He let out a small snort and began to speak.
"Yet another goes flying by." In the years that had passed, Josh had become somewhat of a philosopher. He made cryptic comments that no one understood and, at times, could be quite depressing.
"God, you're becoming Aristotle in your old age." I teased him, smirking mischievously. He frowned,
"I'm forty three, Matilda. I'm not that old."
"Silver fox." I chuckled. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, dismissing my comment.
"Hardly."
"So you don't agree that you're handsome?" I asked, knowing full well he would take that as a challenge.
"Well," Josh grinned. "I didn't say that." In a swift movement, Josh twisted his body to lean on his side, leaning over me.
"Josh." I whispered, putting a hand on his cheek. "I love you."
I felt like no matter no many times I said it, I couldn't truly express how much I loved him. He filled my heart and occupied my thoughts. He was, as cliche as it was, the one. He was the only one for me. The only one I'd ever want to be with, ever since I was that foolish eighteen year old who rebelled and flouted her responsibilities.
He had a hold of me, his arms holding me securely. "I love you too, Matilda."
We were interrupted by chatter outside our door, notifying us that the children had woken. I looked at him and he grinned,
"Our little babies."
"You had a lot of fun making them, if I recall correctly." I giggled, feeling that same warm, fuzzy feeling I'd felt on our wedding day.
"Should we?" He questioned, glancing at the door. "Or can we leave them there for a bit and be alone for a bit." Josh gently kissed me but I pulled away, shaking my head.
"You'll have enough time for that when they go back to school, Josh." I grinned. He frowned and I sat up, pushing him off me. "Go on, open the door."
"But it's so comfy under here with you.." he whined. I shook my head again.
"Josh. They're our children. Let them in."
He nodded, putting his hand on the back of my neck. "Love you."
"Love you too."
Many more Christmases passed. As the girls grew older, Josh became the stereotypical protective Father. I'd chastised my own Father for such behaviour and, despite how good intentions, I wasn't going to let him treat the men that came into our daughter's life negatively. Thankfully, Mary was still young enough to avoid such matters. Elizabeth on the other hand, despite her rank and peerage, was becoming a cheeky little mare. She was just two years older than Mary but from how she acted you'd think there was a decade between them. Not a day went by when she didn't make some snarky remark. Mother was always saying she reminded her of me at that age, though I didn't quite recall my behaviour being that bad.
"You wouldn't. You thought you were in the right." She'd always tell me. We'd grown close in the years since Edward's death, her.. maternal aspect growing. It was something I hadn't expected to happen but, nevertheless, I was grateful it had.
Then the children married. It was a relatively good experience for both of us until Mary became engaged; Josh was extremely protective of his youngest daughter and every night, in bed, he'd complain about her husband-to-be. I had become the ally of my daughter, snapping at Josh when he'd make some crude remark. He often forgot he was once in that position.
"You don't get to chose her husband, Josh." I said, glaring at him. "Let her be."
"He's just not good enough! She's a Princess and my daughter and he's some bloody-"
"It's ironic." I interrupted, shaking my head. "I seem to recall my brother claiming you weren't good enough, and look how happy we've been. Let her choose, Josh."
"That's different." He snapped, rolling his eyes. "We loved each other."
"And they love each other. Leave it."
He ignored my words but didn't impede Mary's choice. His face was a sight when he walked her down the aisle, full of sheer pain and frustration. But he loved her. It was all out of love, even if she couldn't quite see that.
Despite all the drama, all the stupid arguments we had over such little things, we did love each other. And we were happy. Yes, there were times I wanted to throw things at him and scream until my throat became hoarse, but underneath it all, we were happy. I was so grateful to him, for all of it. For him loving me.
My life could've been so different if we'd parted ways after the night of my eighteenth birthday. We could've been such different people. But I wouldn't wish it any other way and I'd do all the same things again, even the foolish acts because, ultimately, I couldn't imagine being without him.
- THE END -
