Tampered Beauty

Vagabond

(AN, we're going with the true ages of the Valois-Angoulême/Medici siblings, not how Reign aged all of them up. Okay, back to story)

James had truly been the glue that had held them all together in those horrid months of grief and pain. His sweet smile and melodic laugh had seemed like a gift from God, for taking Francis away but giving them something much desired. A son, an heir, but most truly, a part of Francis. Something that the Queen Regent had once feared she would never be gifted.

Of course, then began the constant moving around for months at a time. A few weeks in Ireland, another in Wales, a few months in England, another in Scotland and another in France. But, Mary was not a stupid woman. She knew to properly secure her rule -even if it was strong and consolidated, she was a powerful woman in a man's world and many would lust to see her dead- she needed more heirs. More sons ready to take the throne, a few daughters for the marriage market. And, as strong as James was and would always be, he wasn't indestructible. Anything could happen to him, and, after all, she was never supposed to be Queen. She, herself, was a spare heir, having two dead elder brothers who left this world before she arrived.

So, the marriage to Darnley was announced, their marriage quick and swift and honeymoon even shorter. By then, both Greer and Kenna had given birth to a son and daughter respectively, having a new respect for their Empress in a way. Childbirth and pregnancy was by no means fun, after all.

But James was always held in a higher pedestal than any child she could have sired with Darnley. Not because of any malice to her never to be born children, but simply because James held the blood of the man, after everything, Mary loved the most. An Imperial heir was irreplaceable to her, no matter how dispensable Kings were and are.

The child was as strong as any long living child before him. Sweet and smart, constantly doing things before his nannies and nursemaids expected him to. Talking and walking before it was warranted, eating sold foods and cutting teeth quicker than expected, but he was so attached to his mother. He adored her like her adored no other, so protective and perceptive that he let nobody whom he didn't trust get to close to her.

Having always enjoyed the nursing time he had with her, it was a horrid change of pace to no longer have that sacred time, never settling properly until he had felt his mothers' skin and heard the sound of her voice for minutes at a time. They had such a strong bond that Henry -their marriage was tumultuous at best at the start- could only dream of.

Whilst James was accustomed to not seeing his mother as she ruled over five Kingdoms, he was always with her in some ways. Playing quietly with his cousins and uncles and aunts as Mary dressed for the day, sleeping in her chambers at night, having breakfast and dinners with his mother and never settling until she had temporarily escaped from whatever council meeting she had going on that night for a few moments of blissful sanctuary.

It was because of this that James found it so hard to become accustomed to Francis. He didn't want his mother too hurt how she had done in the worst moments with Darnley, nor did he like somebody he didn't know becoming close to his beloved mother, especially because he could sense the tension radiating off of her whenever Francis was around in France.

Although things had started to mellow with James and his father, slowly enjoying the fair haired Frenchman's company after so many years of not knowing who he was, things still weren't on par with what could be. It was to do with Mary still not completely trusting her husband once more, still and always would be weary of him, almost waiting for a second betrayal, hardening her heart in preparation for the event. Even though the situation with Lola was still going on, he hadn't made such a mistake that she couldn't' forgive.

Yet, that is.

Francis immediately returned to Mary's rooms after his confrontation with Lola. He sat at her side, clasping her hand tightly, silently praying for her to wake up as soon as possible. Still, Mary lay silently in her bed, her chest moving steadily up and down, skin burning to the touch, even with the cold cloths laying upon her skin.