My darling, darling husband,
My beloved, the wind's howls have awoken me. My thoughts are immediately drawn to you, as they have done for the past nine months in which I have not known your kiss, caress or touch. I worry for you, my Francis. I worry that you are without a fire of your own, that you are depraved of her warmth and light. I worry that you shiver as I do. I worry that you ache with strain and injury. If only your physical body was here to shelter the two of us from this cold, unforgiving winter's night. Your soul haunts me, and I pine for your physical return.
My love, it has been months since your departure. An entire year bar three months. France shivers in an unforgiving, unrelenting winter. I have been haunted by your presence since the day of your departure. I miss you so. It is a cold comfort that I know that every day that passes is another closer to finally being in your warm embrace once more. As much as I pine for your return, I -like you- am still royalty, and the duty I have to both France and Scotland must come first. I will care for our countries as I will care for you when you return to me. I cannot and will not think of the bloody, gruesome alternative.
The castle is quiet and she slumbers. I find myself unable to join them, as I know I long should have. I worry for you day and night, yet it is worse when the sun takes her rest and the stars dance amongst the great, onyx sky that blankets us both. If you and I think of it like that, the distance between them will not be so far. The wind howls and the snow falls, the only sound that escapes our chambers are that of the hisses of the fire, and delicate whimpers. It is not from my lips in which they grow, live and die. If what I fear is true -that you suffer with our physician separation as I do- then allow me to bestow onto you some information in which I find rather satisfactory.
My Francis, I have borne us a son. Your wish for there to be two waiting for you came true, your mother being the first to figure it out. Our Prince's birth occurred four days ago. It is only now that I have gained the strength to inform you of this joyous occasion. I do so wish that you were here to see the birth of our light, however duty must come first. You taught me that, and that is the truth.
Our child bares the moniker of both of our fathers, as well as the name of one of my ancestors that gifted me English blood. James Henry Edward Valois-Anguleme-Stuart spent almost three days stubbornly remaining inside my womb, although an early birth, our child is healthy and I recover from a heavy bleed well.
Return to us soon, my darling.
All my love for always,
Your loving wife,
Mary.
