Tu Es Ma Lumière

128 - Rivalry

The Earls of Lindsay and Galloway are interrupted on their thoughts regarding the recent turmoil between the disgraced former Earl of Dunmore and his new successor as the door to the Queen of Scotland's study slams open, leaving a sizeable hole in the wall thanks to the grandeur bronze doorknob. Mary cringes, rolling her eyes, turning from her noblemen and to the apparent occupant of the room.

Gold embellishments on a navy satin gown glitter as the Queen of Scotland and France sees her son rush into the room as fast as his small legs can carry him. The Dauphin of France and Duke of Rothsay barrels straight for his mother, black curls and ice blue eyes intent as he leaps onto his mother. He clings to her tightly, wailing words so jumbled that his mother cannot understand.

"Your royal highness!" the nanny hisses, dropping into a low curtsy in the doorway, her face a darkened blush as she realises that the three year old just interrupted an important meeting between Queen and nobility. "The Queen is very busy, you cannot just-" she walks towards the child, plucking him off his mother's lap, much to his displeasure. And hers, now that Mary saw that he was upset.

"I'm sorry about this, gentlemen." Mary says. The nobility bow their heads. "It's alright, my child is clearly distressed. What is it, James?" she asks, her tone lightening as her firstborn son turns to her.

"J-Jean!" he wails the name of his bastard half brother. Mary tenses. Three children of her own or not, the fact her husband insisted on keeping his bastard son -who hated them all, let it be known- close to them was always a soft spot. "I-I tell him-maman-I tell him, je le déteste! Je déteste Jean!" he cries out, reaching small arms out towards his mother. She makes a soft sound in the back of her throat. Francis was a good man, a good King, for all intents and purposes, a good father. But in this subject alone, he was as stubborn as a mule and it irritated her to no end, his insistence to keep his children together, no matter how many times they told him they didn't get on. Even baby Francis -who wasn't even nine months old- was showing signs of distrust to the son of the King and his ruined former lover.

Never mind the fact that Mary was tiring of these sibling fights more than anything.

"Go with your nounou, James. Wait until I finish my business with these men, and I'll talk to Papa with you, yes?" she asks.

The nanny breathes a sigh of relief as the stubborn offspring of the King and Queen finally yields to his mothers wishes, and the two of them exit with bows to the Queen and the nobility sitting in front of her. The door closes with a soft click, and Mary exhales deeply, looking back at her nobles. They nod at her, and they continue on discussing the next steps on how to deal with the ruined former lord and his backlash, but Mary does it with far less enthusiasm than she did before.

~/~

The eyes of the small Baron of Velay narrow into small slits as he takes note of the King and Queen with the Dauphin. It's spring, the heat of the air makes the grass glow enigmatically. He stares at nobody but the Dauphin of France, his dark curls matching his mothers' as he sat upon her lap. The King and Queen sit upon thrones as the celebrations for Princess Margret's anniversary of birth go on. 

The newest Prince of France and Scotland lays within the Baroness de Portiers' arms. She cooes and ahhs at the blonde baby boy, who giggles in delight from his grandeur blankets. The King's deputy grins from by his wife's side, sharing a look with Jean's father. The Dauphin points and giggles talks to the Queen of France, the very same one who hadn't even given him a second look, ever in his four year old life. He continued to glare. James soaks up the affection and the motherly attributes given to him by the Queen of France, whilst he -the King's first child, a son- cannot remember the last time the golden eyes of the Queen looked upon himself.

Their sister, Princess Anne, spins around with Lady Greer and the new second in command of the King's guard. They laugh with her, the bright two year old every inch her mother, the apple of her fathers' eye. Jean is so caught up with his staring he doesn't even realise that James walks past him.

He grabs the Dauphins wrist and spins him around.

"Get off." James scoffs, pulling his arm away from his elder half brother. Jean narrows his little eyes at his brother, grabbing him again when he tries to walk away. The Dauphin stands his ground this time, staring at Jean the way he was staring at him. "You look at me, so angrily. Why?" he questions.

"You don't like my looks? Fine." is all the boy says.

James blinks in confusion, before the three year old shrieks in surprise as Jean-Philippe suddenly rears his fist back and smashes it into James nose. The Dauphin stumbles backwards four steps, before his body is caught by the Queen who had rushed from her chair to catch her child.

James yells in anger, but he doesn't dare jerk against Mary's arms as she picks him up and makes away with him. From over her shoulder, the small Dauphin can see the King scolding the Baron so angrily that it almost makes his sore nose stop hurting.

But it's the jealousy he can see in Jean's eyes that settles him. He may be three years old, but he is his mother's son just as much as he is his father's son. He is perceptive, and knows full well that the only thing Jean-Philippe wants in this world is Queen Mary's acceptance and love. And they both know, full well, that only her children will ever get such things.