Tu Es Ma Lumière

10 - Sneaking Away

"Hello, in there." I smile at my wife's growing bump. Her beautiful smile blinds and stuns me for a second as I kneel in front of her place upon the chair I placed her upon to rest. I place my hands on either side of her swollen abdomen, admiring it underneath the pretty amethyst purple gown she had donned for this day. I see purples and pinks and blues in the beautiful gown, but nothing fascinates me more than the slight kick I feel underneath my right palm. My child.

My wife laughs happily, quietly, as she watches me, running her hands through my hair. I take several moments to appreciate her like this, to admire the unborn child that she carries inside her womb, before standing and sitting next to her once more.

"So, have you thought about names?" she asks me, running her hand through my hair again. I smile at her, admiring the pure beauty and purity that is before me. For all I belittle paganism, the need to fall down and worship the feminine figure is a motive I completley understand. I am thankful that none of her rings tangles in my hair and tugs upon it, placing my own left hand onto her bump.

"Not yet." I smile gently at her. She is pregnant with our eighth child. It seems like a lifetime ago that we struggled to conceive but one child, but that is no longer the case. A rather embarrassing lecture by my mother nine years ago about certain positions had done the trick. Barely two months after that horridly embarrassing and uncomfortable lecture -however, Catherine de Medici spoke and reacted as if she was speaking to us about something as so simple as the weather- we found out about her conception with our eldest and heir. Ever since, she has never spent four months not holding a child within her womb. All born healthy and no more losses have been a blessing, although I dread the births of our children. Mary tends to bleed and suffer for a lot longer than normal, a trait picked up by her mother's side. Marie informed us via a letter when my wife sent word to her mother about her conception with our second born, Anne. She died not long after, having known no interest in meeting her grandson or seeing her only living child with her own child. "Have you?" I ask her.

"I have a feeling that it'll be a boy, Francis." she reveals to me. Unlike the wish of past Queens to deliver a son, I know that this thought is not like those. My wife and Queen needs not worry about the conception of a son to secure her survival by my side, for she has already borne me five sons. No, this feeling is simply like the others she has had. Each time, her guess has been right. I feel the child within her move, and she rubs her stomach to soothe the child. I place my hand over hers.

I look into her beautiful golden eyes, letting myself loose myself inside them, awaiting her continue.

"I'm particularly partial to Zachary this time around."

"Zachary?" I ask, rubbing her stomach, trying to soothe the aches she has felt in this pregnancy. She has been telling me how she thinks this babe will be bigger than the rest of them, her back and stomach has been hurting her more this time than when she had the twins. "After the Duke's son who saved Aylee from falling in the water lake when you were four months gone?"

"I'm not sure," she states. "I'm simply partial to it. What do you think?"

I answer not with words. Sitting with her, speaking of our children and names of future children has rendered me obsolete to do anything but kiss her. And I do, I lurch forward and capture her lips with my own. I forget that we are in public and where servants or courtiers will probably talk of this, and I do not care either way. My tongue enters her mouth and I grasp at her leg, caressing it over the soft purple fabric. She lets out a moan and tightens her hand in my hair. I hiss as she scratches my scalp in the way only she knows how. No woman has brought me as much pleasure as she, and I am fully grateful that I am the only man who has seen her in orgasmic bliss.

We are lost in our own world as I hear a throat clear behind her. I pull away and she lets me go. I turn and see my mother standing there smirking at us, a guard behind her. The guard stares down at the floor in embarrassment, whilst this is anything but unordinary for my mother. Several times has she walked into our chambers at inopportune times.

"Well, as you can see, the King and Queen are very much fine." she states. Mary blushes lightly in embarrassment and I hide my laugh. "You mustn't disappear in the castle! Especially not now!" she gushes, pointing at my wife's swollen abdomen. 

"We didn't disappear, mother. We were simply talking." I state with a grin. She doesn't believe me, only arches an eyebrow and mutters something about not behaving as a King and Queen should behave. 

But I see her smile. So I smile in my own right.