Tu Es Ma Lumière

31- Flower

The Queen of France looked upon her court with rapt attention. The fresh spring air penetrated her nose, bringing a chill to her body. She pulled the red crochet blanket closer to her, looking around her celebrating court. It had been a year since Jean's birth, and a small celebration in the courtyard was the culmination. She could hear the musicians playing their fiddles and other instruments, streamers and bunting hanging in every colour of the rainbow.

Mary looked around again, seated comfortably against her throne, the other one beside her vacant of it's King and occupant. Mary searched him out, able to with relative ease, spotting the bright golden spun of curls over the top of a fine blue velvet doublet. Her husband was holding his son's hand, the child's mother upon the other side, leading them both around the small party Kenna had planned. He toddled around the courtyard to greet the servants' children, no noble being seen dead at the party of a bastard. 

Unable to look upon the trifecta of pain that the family brought her, Mary turned away from them and over to Sebastian and Kenna, who were trying their best to regain their sense of normalcy. Kenna, who had recently returned from Sweden after miscarrying Renaude's child, had regained her position as Lady in Waiting and gained the position of event planner for the castle, the Baroness de Portiers sipped wine and stared up at her husband. Bash, who had been grieving the loss of Delphine at the time, hadn't given his wife the time of day, until she had came to his rooms pleading mercy for the scorn she had received to her reputation harmed her spirit.

She smiled softly at Kenna. She had been trying so hard to mature from the vain, hedonistic siren she had been and into something more mature of her status and age. Mary still remembered that night that Kenna had crawled into her and Francis' bed to be held by her Queen, for she had dreamed of her child and the day she had lost it. Mary had been the only one to loose a child that she knew, for Lola had carried her bastard to full term and Greer had never been pregnant.

A few weeks later, it had been Mary to do the same thing, a second loss wracking her body, soul and mind.

Remembering that horrid night in which she woke up in blood and pain, Mary swallowed the tears back down, her womb still aching from that loss. Unable to conceive that a pain like that could exist, waking up her husband with her cries, the blood covering the mattress.

The Queen of France looked down at her womb. It was covered in delicate white material and small red and pink flowers. She didn't want to be here any longer. It hurt, it still did and always would, seeing that little bastard who was the cause of so much worry to cause two miscarriages. Her husband having a family with somebody who wasn't her, questioning her own ability to get pregnant and keep the child.

Unbenownst to her, little Jean had leaned down to the ground, coming up after plucking a lilac flower from the green grass. He turned around to face his step mother whom had never even held him, let alone accepted him into her court. Lola looked over at the sullen Queen, noted how Mary wouldn't even meet her eyes. Once upon a time, Mary would glare into her blue orbs and ask why Lola had been the one to be able to bare Francis a healthy, living son, whilst Mary herself lay baron. Francis, on the other hand, nervously glanced at his wife, knowing how much she was suffering with the issue of childbearing. He began to pull Jean away from Mary's direction, hearing his squeal, but the boy was quicker.

He bumbled quickly over towards the Queen of France and Scots. Lola gasped and tried to capture her child, but the child scrambled past them and scaled the yards separating he and the Queen.

Mary felt a small tug on her pinky finger. She inhaled sharply, looking down at the fair haired bastard son of France. He gave her a large, gummy smile, holding up the flower as a peace offering. Mary smiled sadly, slowly taking the flower from her step son.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly, swallowing thickly. He gave her a big smile again, bumbling over towards his parents again.

Francis looked over at his wife, watched as the Queen placed the flower onto his throne, a small smile on her lips.