Birth

Part 1

"Push, your Majesty! Push!" the midwife yelled from in between her Queen's legs. The Queen of Scotland and France cried out, pushing as hard as she could, feeling the child bare down from inside of her. She screamed out, her body seizing up as she forced the child within her out. Her hands clamped down onto Kenna and Greer's hands, a third cry slipping past her lips.

"I know," Lola cooed, running a cold, wet cloth onto her brow. "I know," she said again. "but you have to keep going, Mary. You're almost there!" she begged. Mary clenched her teeth and pushed as hard as she could, using every last bit of strength she had to get her child out of her. The pain was unbearable. She thought it was going to kill her, but suddenly, it was all over.

The cries of a child suddenly echoed throughout the room, forcing air out of the women's lungs as they sighed in satisfaction at the pleasant sound of the offspring of the King and Queen let out healthy, strong cries.

Mary panted for air, her body relaxing into the pillows as she was lay back by the nurses, midwives and her ladies. Gulping, she struggled to find her voice, but managed to speak, her throat raw from hours upon hours of screaming.

"Is it a son?" she asked, her voice trembling from exhaustion and pain.

Before the midwife holding the screaming babe could answer, the door slammed open and the King of France and Scotland barged his way into the room, making his way to his Queen's bedside, bringing her form into a tight embrace.

"Mary," he breathed. Even now, she felt shivers up her spine at the sound of her name falling from his lips. He was the only one to say her name like that. "Thank god you're alright." he breathed. Mary smiled from the crook of his neck as he let her go, laying her back against the bed sheets.

"Your Majesty," the midwife who grabbed the baby approached Francis as he stood. Mary began to get nervous as she saw the nerves upon the midwife's face. She gulped audibly, her body starting to tremble as she approached her husband with their child. Don't say it, Mary thought, closing her eyes. Please don't say it.

"Your Majesty," the midwife said again, extending out the bundle towards it's father. "A healthy daughter."

The King and Queen of France and Scotland held two very different reactions to the news of a daughter.

The King of France's smile could rival the brightness of the sun. He smiled in the way his wife loved, the one that lit up his expression and his beautiful blue eyes. He cooed at his newborn daughter, that tiny new Princess, taking her into his arms. He lay her head upon his chest, as if trying to sync their heartbeats together, stroked the long, wet and dark tendrils of hair from her face, whispering to his newborn daughter in his mother tongue, just holding her. The child's cries quieted somewhat, although she whimpered for the arms of her mother, the only person she had known for the last three seasons.

The Queen of Scotland, on the other hand, sagged into the bed. Her head was turned in the opposite direction to the beautiful scene of father meeting daughter for the first time. It was like she couldn't even look at that tiny being whom she had grown for the last three seasons. Her expression was crestfallen, almost heartbroken, dwelling on the fact that she hadn't born Francis and their countries the son they needed, the heir they desperately necessitated. No, she had born a useless daughter, one who would be at a disadvantage as she grew, her voice never listened to simply because of her gender. Although the child would be her heir for Scotland so long as she remained son-less, the child couldn't rule in France, and thus, they would be continuing their pressure for a Dauphin. That pressure had started on the day she wed their then heir, and only grew then their new King had claimed Lola's ten month old son Jean Philippe. Mary could already feel their disappointment, their despondency for a simple girl for the marriage market, not a King for the throne. She had let down not just France, but Scotland, too. Mary only prayed that she could stand their disappointed looks and judgemental glances for another few months until -god forbid, she begged- she fell pregnant again. If it could even happen again.