Tampered Beauty

Time

"Mama," young Lord Francis Stewart murmured as he lay his head upon his aunt's midsection. Mary brushed her fingers through his long blonde hair, his green eyes half lidded as his adoptive mother slowly soothed him. The young boy hadn't been feeling well this summer, a nip in the air causing a wheeze in his chest. Mary sat upon her chair in her study, slowly penning a draft to the King of Portugal about a possible marriage for her daughter. The little boy was curled up in her lap, searching for the comfort she had brung him ever since her brother's death.

"My love." she murmured back, rather preoccupied with the letter and the other young Francis, who lay in his small crib near his mother, contently resting after the feeding she had given him a few minutes before. He fisted a small fist of her skirts, holding her closer to him. Ivory lace and golden embellishments tousled together as she continued to work. It had been almost two weeks since the trial, and her family had been working in cold symphony ever since. The children seemed happily oblivious to the events, yet those who could understand worked in cold counterpart with one another.

"Don't feel good." Lord Francis murmured, pushing his face closer to her warmth and scent.

"You don't have a fever." Mary placed the back of her ring covered hand onto his forehead. "How about you lay down and I'll send for some soup?"

"No, mama." he muttered. Mary sighed through her nose, gently cupping his face with one hand, brushing the soft tendrils from her nephew's face.

"Okay," she agreed. "But I have to go to talk with my husband soon, alright?"

"Yes, mama." he mumbled, already half asleep. Mary smiled softly, rubbing her fingers over his cheek. The young boy smiled in his slumber, enjoying the fondness that the only true mother he had ever known showed to him.

Mary gently lifted him up into her arms, shushing his murmurs, and placed him in the crib that was meant for Lucien and Anne. The young Empress covered him up in the lilac satin, fixing his clothes so they were more comfortable to take rest in, before the door opened.

Emperor Francis walked inside, wearing that same expression he did when he found out that his wife had spoken to his guards about Sebastian, just after the two of them had returned from their honeymoon. But he smiled when he saw her and their sons, one adopted and one natural.

(I've just realised that there's three Francis' in the one scene. Try not to get confused, guys!)

"My love." Emperor Francis breathed, enjoying watching her play the role of mother almost as much as he did when she played the role of wife or Queen or Empress. He came inside the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Mary smiled at the man she loved the most, still so enamoured by the fact a man of such beauty and intelligence was wed to her. He had been the perfect, model father, husband and ruler ever since Lucien's birth. It was hard to believe that at one point, not that many winters ago, where she had hated this man, an even harder thought that she had wished him dead. And now, she loved him more than she could say, more than any -bar four- person alive, almost more than the countries she ruled upon.

"My darling." The dark haired beauty smiled, leaving the children and coming over towards her husband. He took her into his arms, as gentle as ever, pressing his lips to hers in a sweet embrace that made her heart flutter and her skin heat.

"I love you." he murmured as he pulled away. She smiled contently up at him, cream chiffon and white lace gown hanging loosely off her frame.

"I love you." she sighed in pleasure. He cupped her cheek, pressing another kiss to her forehead. Mary closed her eyes slowly.

"Is he okay?" Her husband pulled away a few inches, looking over at their adopted son.

"His fever has broken, but he's weak and uncomfortable." Mary replied, watching as he walked over to the little boy. The elder fixed the younger's hair, before walking towards his baby son. The King picked up the Prince, smiling brightly down at the young child in his arms. Mary smiled brighter, always as happy to see the man she loved with the child she -for many years- didn't believe she could ever possibly have.