Tu Es Ma Lumière

134 - Prophecy

"A storm is coming." the seer of the French Court murmurs, his eyes rolling forward into his head, staring the short, Medici blooded Queen of France in the eye, towering over her. Her eyes are wide and informative, as they always were when the only one who she trusted within the French Court spoke of the future she so desperately depended on. Her lips part as she prepares to talk, her hands subconsciously pushing her blue and silver brocade, satin gown down, straightening invisible crinkles as she looked up at her seer.

Word had just reached French Court that the Queen of Scotland and its' isles' ship had landed within Dunkirk's primary harbour. It was very late, the turn of the day just minutes away. The air was crisp and chill as it always was in the early Springtime. The sky was dark, embroidered with pearly white stars, although they're disguised by a thin layer of cloudage. Nightingales and sparrows sang their nightly tune, and most of the time, that would soothe the consort of France. But not this night, not since she had urgently told her seer about her future daughter in law's imminent appearance into French Court. Tomorrow, or the next day.

"What?" she whispers, pressing her right hand to the thinness of her chest, despite her current state of childbearing. Her chest begins to tighten, and she fights to keep it loose. For the babe within her, for the future. What those soldiers couldn't do to her, the future couldn't do to her. "What does that mean?" she asks. "Nostradamus, you told me that upon the day my only son was born, that you saw the most marvellous, golden summer." she says. "And with this girl, you see-" she trails, unable to talk.

"A storm, Queen Catherine." he gruffs. "The marvellous, fruitful summer I saw upon the day the Dauphin was born no longer exists. I see a storm, a whirlwind that will suck whatever and whomever into its powerful clutches." he says, stepping backwards a step, as if preparing to catch the Queen if she fainted.

"But-" she whispers. "what will happen to my Francis? My boy? Even to this Queen who comes to him now, offering England in exchange for survival?" she asks, pushing back the darkness that attempted to overcome her when she thought of this child. In danger, yes. But with an unchangeable claim to a crown, multiple crowns. Legitimate bloodright to one of the main powers of Europe, a prestige that she -Catherine de Medici- would never have. Royal blood and money beyond even Catherine's cough. An undeniable thirst for English blood and ambition for the death of her father, but she brang with her the anger of England, her sword would be pointed at France's neck first and foremost, and would always be unless the alliance was broke -which, honestly, with Henry's ambition for England, was not going to happen- or the girl wed Francis and challenged the lion with one of her own, an army at her back.

"I am not aware, Queen Catherine." he says. "All I can tell you is that the arrival of Queen Mary of Scotland will forever change Prince Francis' life." he says.

Catherine scoffs. "That is obvious! She is to be his bride, his Queen!" the copper haired Queen snaps, pressing a hand to her abdomen as the babe within her shifted. "Will she change it for the better, give him more reason to emerge from his sickliness, will he be the King of Scotland, Nostradamus? Or even England, if Henry's plan goes well?" she asks, alarmed. She'd kill her husband herself if marrying her son to this girl harmed her son.

"I am not aware, Queen Catherine. I have told all I know. This child, this girl, she will define the Dauphin's future." he says, fixing his robes, as if fearful that being caught with the Queen at such a late hour would cost him his head. "Your son may be the greatest, mightiest King France or Europe may ever know, this girl at his side as his Queen. They may conquer the world together. Or, his highness may fall and France with it." he says, his voice as raspy as ever.

"What can I do, my friend?" she asks. "How can I make them acchieve greatness?" she asks.

"Pray, my Queen. Pray for the strength to give it to the children who will define the future of this world. Make the children strong. They will have to fight to attain what they most desire from this world. Of this, I am sure."

"This girl, the Queen. She will need more than strength. Women have no place within this world, least of all the position she has been placed in, with God's permission." she closes her eyes. A Queen in danger, a child, forced to flee the only land she's ever known to a strange, foreign place to marry a foreign Prince. And a girl, a girl who could very well go through what she went through with those soldiers- she shakes her head. It cannot happen.

"You tell me that his girl, the Scottish Queen, she will define my son's life? His rule?"

"Yes, Queen Catherine."

"Then, as she arrives into my care, I will raise her to be stronger, faster, braver than any Queen before her, or any Queen after her." she decides. It must be done. It must be done.