Tampered Beauty

Impossible

Two years later, the King and Queen of France walked happily throughout the walls of their preferred chateaux whenever they and their inner circle needed a break from the hustle and bustle of ruling , Chateaux de Charbonnières. Upon the heels of their growing clan of four royal children, the contented parents smiled adoringly at their litter as they giggled with each other, chasing both a rolling ball and a recently born Scottish wolfdog.

Prince James, the eldest, took in the scene with rapt attention. His big golden eyes missed nothing as he rushed down the corridor that held the door leading the rapidly warming French countryside. His mother's feistiness and his father's willingness to learn was rapt and impressive. At the tender age of five years, the boy was intelligent far beyond his years. Having started schooling earlier, he was already writing large pieces and reciting long stanza's of poetry in any foreign tongue. Smart and playful, courageous and strong, already of his growing number of siblings and the foreign beauty by his side, the Dauphin and Crown Prince would make quite the ruler as he grew up.

Running by his side was the Danish Princess Anne. In a soft gown of white with blue flowers, the little girl giggled with her male counterpart as they made chase for the young dog gifted to the royal children of the court not that long ago. Dirty blonde haired and big blue eyed, the foreign Princess had long settled into her new life. Ever since being introduced to each other a year ago, the duo were inseparable and rather similar, although the young Anna -as the family had daubed her- was a little more timid than the young Prince who was both adventurous and content to sit and read with her, whatever she would prefer.

The young two year old boy toddled next to them, giggling aloud as he made for the ball. Young Prince Lucien resembled his father in the face and hair, but his eyes were all his mother. He held her young, sweet spirit and the sense of adventure that was only tampered by his lack of size and age. Donned in sapphire and ivory, the young little Prince had been the glue that stuck his family for a time, although that couldn't last for long.

He was merely a few weeks old when Spain and England went to war. The resulting defeat of the once strong and unbeatable Spanish armada was downright embarrassing to the history books. It took almost tree years, but the result was conclusive and decisive. The battle had been fought and won, but it was an even harder battle to enter into peace talks and peace treaties. The furious and embarrassed Spanish King had been seething all the while, until the speech that even knocked the Spanish soldiers and guards to their knees in fealty to their master's enemy, who had reluctantly been turned into an ally for the Spanish people.

The war had taken a tole on all involved, however. With the King and Queen at the front lines throughout the first few months, it was all due to change when the Queen started coming down with fainting spells and vomiting. Still, like a Scot, she pushed through the illness she felt, continuing to bring blade to enemy and blood to hands. But all that had to change when her stomach started to swell a few months into the battle. It didn't take a genius to work out what was wrong with her. So reluctantly -Mary had wanted to fight with her people and her husband, but risk becoming to the babe took precedence- the Scottish Queen took up residence as Queen and Empress Regent as she grew the baby inside of her.

The pregnancy ended on a chilly autumn night, as a babe with sparkly dark eyes, plump lips and black curls escaped her mother's womb. The Princess Anne Marie Elisabeth de Stuart-Valois-Angoulême was nurtured by her mother until the winter died down, and the newborn baby Princess was transported to northern Scotland. The now one -almost two- year old little girl toddled after her brothers and future sister in law, thumb in mouth and little rag doll in the other hand, black and pink gown as crooked as ever, every inch her mother's daughter. The Empress -healthy and recovered from another brutal childbirth- returned to her husband's side to fight at the front lines. They did so for months, fighting side by side together in perfect harmony, until the Emperor managed to put another baby inside his wife. This time, a boy. A boy with blue eyes and blonde curls, sweet and perfect and tiny at seven months old currently, holding his father's looks and name. The very same baby was being held in his still young and beautiful mother's arms as she walked side by side with his father.