You Are My Light Part II

276 - Observence

"They look more and more like you by the day." the Queen of Scots observes, running the back of her hand against the sleeping face of her son. He makes a small mewl in response, the small baby boy leaning into his mothers' warmth, before settling in back to sleep in his golden crib. Next to him, in the overlong child's bed, a babe of only eleven months his senior. But in his sleep, the two look identical to the point of unnerving. Two babies, two boys, two children who are both bound and torn apart by blood. Mary smiles at the two of them, pulling up the fine sheet to cover them both more. It's temporary accommodation, they all won't be here for much longer, and there was hardly a point of bringing in two beds when only one was needed.

The tall blonde at her side smiles at the two of them, leaning an arm around his wife's trim and taut waist covered in crimson-magenta satin and damask, her arms covered by a white fur blanket. It's dark now, she really should be heading off to bed, but the simplistic domesticity is something she cherishes after long days of politics and back and forth bickering. He looks towards his sons, young boys so cherished in the short time they've gazed upon this earth. They're been through so much already, for boys so small, but things will settle shortly, he knows it. He observes the two blonde boys with a soft smile, and leans his head upon his wife's' as she settles upon his shoulder.

"I am proud of you," he whispers to her. "so proud after all you've fought for these last few months. All you've gained, all you've lost."

She looks at him, her eyes big and doe and dazzled, as they always were when she gazed upon him. He's so beautiful, he always was.

She kisses him lightly, holding him closer, bumping their noses for a beat, before pulling back, resting back on her heels. 

"They look so much like you," she repeats. "I'm thankful, it warms my heart to see you in them, our son is your exact mirror." Mary looks from him to their boy that they share, the sleeping little angel who she had prayed for so long, who she had attained in he cruellest circumstances, but who became her light in the darkest times. "But Jean-Philippe has-"

"-my fathers' eyes." he finishes softly, looking over at the larger child for a moment, the fond smile never leaving his lips.

The Queen looks from her husband to her children, from one to the other. "How is he? I haven't seen him in a while."

"Contented." he says after a pause. "Louis keeps him busy, and the twins are little ragamuffins."

Mary breathes a half smile. "And Lola? After everything with Narcisse and Catherine and Elizabeth-"

"It's rare she leaves her rooms, she mostly talks to Aylee and Collen when they come to her. We'll share a pleasant word every now and then, but nothing more. Whatever I may have shared with her is gone now. She's grateful to you, however. Fighting so hard to bring her husband and our child back when Elizabeth wanted to harm them, because of your claim and our son."

"I'll never let anybody hurt him, Francis." Mary whispers, turning to him again. "You have to know that, yes? No matter the controversy of his conception, or the drama of his first year, he has lost his mother and father, James and I are all he has left." she pauses. "We're leaving to go back to Scotland in three days time, now that Jean is safe and James is secure in his rule, Catherine ruling in his stead, while he grows to manhood in Scotland. You're sure that this will sustain?"

"Of course," he says. "My mother will protect her own fiercely, her grandsons even deeper given her love for me and her fondness for you, her gratefulness that you allowed the boys to breathe and blink."

"She'll see them grow, my Darling. I promise you. I'll have them turn into good men, men you would be proud of. Our son will be a good King, and your son will be a good man, a loyal man, true to his brother."

"You are his mother now, my love. Two sons, two countries, two brothers at your side."

"And you, when the moon shines bright."

"You'll always have me, Mary. I'm always at your side, watching you, loving you. I will do until we meet again. I love you, Mary Stuart. Forever."

"I love you, Francis." Mary breathes, but there is no point saying anything else, because there is nobody in the room to hear her. The only other people in the room are two babies who are fast asleep in their shared crib. Her beautiful little James, the product of her marriage, and her precious little Jean, her new adopted child, after the death of his both mother and father not that long ago. Soon, the three of them will leave France and go back to Scotland, back home, because Mary's husband, her only husband, her beautiful, good, brave, cherished only husband had died fourteen months ago.