Tu Es Ma Lumière

126 - Nurturement

Lady Castleroy comes closer to the Queen of Scotland. She bounds the shawl she wears over her arms closer to her body, smiling gently at the sight before her. Mary stands over the crib in the royal nursery, her brocade gown shimmering in the dim, late afternoon light. A hand is within the crib, the backs of her fingers stroking a small, pouty cheek as the occupant of the tiny bed slumbers deeply. He shifts closer to her hand, making his new mother smile down at him. 

Mary notices Greer then, sharing another gentle smile with her. Her Lady in waiting walks to stand next to her. They stare down at the small blonde boy. He sleeps, undisturbed. Pouty lips and pouty cheeks puff up as the child continues to take his rest. It is long deserved, he has been in a carriage for days, and the weather is less than warm. For a being so small, he has lost so much. It's now the Queen of Scotland's duty to ensure he looses no more.

"Is he alright?" Greer asks softly, grateful that her own child would be returning to her soon. Lola's funeral is days past, her new home in Scottish court provides all the protection she could ever want with Mary firmly upon her side. After Mary's proposition of returning to her service, Greer had written to her husband, who was now on his way with Rose. "He is not suffering with chill, still?" she asks. Mary shakes her head, not taking her eyes off the small human in her care, her last piece of Lola and her only tie to Francis.

"No, he's perfect." she says gently. "A large bowl full of broth and some sweetened milk set him right. He's out for the count, best give him all the rest he wants. Poor little thing's had a long few days." she says. Elizabeth had granted the courtesy of burying Lola's decapitated body upon Scottish soil, the woman's only child arriving in his step mothers arms three days before that. "He looks just like him, don't you think?" her voice is quiet. "Except his eyes. They're dark. It's funny, don't you think? They both had blue eyes, but not the child. Perhaps Henry's eyes?" Mary's voice takes on another note. 

"You miss him?" Lady Castleroy asks, pushing her hair from her eyes, looking at her Queen, who continues to stare down into the crib in which her stepson slept.

"More and more every day." she whispers. "But I promised him on the day my baby died that I would look after him, raise him into a good man. They're both gone now, I have to keep my word." she says. "I don't resent him for the fact he exists, I've made peace with it long ago. It stings that he lives and my child with him-" she closes her eyes, not wanting to remember the pain and the blood and the lack of another "does not. But I take peace in thinking that the baby is with his father, and I'll see them when my own time comes."

"Not for a long, long while yet, though." Greer places a hand on Mary's shoulder. Mary looks at her with another small smile. "You have promises to keep."

"Not for a long while." she agrees. The child wakes, then. Mary blinks down at the child, breathing another smile as his small fingers grasp for her own. His little hands skim across her hand, touching the onyx gem resting upon a bed of gold. 

"Look, he remembers the ring." Greer says.

"As if any of us could ever forget it."