You Are My Light Part II

281 - Vulnerability

Kenna, Greer and Lola get to comforting the Queen of Scots, while Aylee takes leave to soothe the littlest Princes and Princesses, who were sitting in a small huddle in the dimly lit room, in front of an equally distressed servant girl. Their mother spares them a glance, but she can do little more to help them, for their first niece or nephew begins to properly bore down into their mothers' modesty.

Mary begins to cry out frantically as the horrible stinging, burning pain takes a hold of her. She grasps her husband and the heiress of Kinross as she cringes. Catherine recognises the pain, the surges, the process, and spreads her legs wide apart, yelling at the young girl of barely sixteen years to push out the small inhabitant of her body. 

Cold rags are put upon the Queen's brow, and the ladies work on cooling her down in this damp little hovel, while her husband wraps his arm around her waist to pull her upwards and push her forewords, so it may be easier for the child to come out.

"Push! Push, Mary!" she cries out, running rivers of hot water over the apex of her thighs when the child's head begins to emerge. Mary's cries hit a new frequency, and her husband and lady may find themselves with a few broken finger bones. It doesn't matter, however, all that matters is that the child may enter this world safe.

She cries out, her body tensing as it pulls foreword and crunches over, a last cry leaving her lips as her body lurches backwards, the child having left her. 

A beat. And then a cry.

Mary relaxes, her tears turning anew as the entire chamber seems to light up, to cheer, at the sound of the baby's wails. She leans into the filthy mattress and closes her eyes, her body throbbing in pain as the child is wrapped up.

Suddenly, something feels wrong.

"What is it?" Mary asks her mother-in-law, ignoring the warmth growing in her swollen stomach. "Wh-what's happened?" she asks, Catherine having just looked at her, wrapping the baby up in a small sheet.

"Catherine?" Henry asks, turning to address his wife, growing steadily more concerned at the look on her face. She looks sullen, in shock.

"Mother?" Francis tries, she still has the baby. It wails and throws its limbs around, Mary bites her lip, whimpering in pain as it continues still, growing hotter and hotter and hotter until the child is extended out towards them.

"It's a girl." Catherine whispers. "A healthy daughter."

Mary's lips part, the lower trembling like a leaf in the wind. Her eyes fill with tears, and suddenly the joy in the room is nothing but ashes and ghosts, the room suddenly feeling very full, but so very cold. She whimpers, the sagging disappointment making her chest feel so very heavy in this moment, and refuses to take the child, instead choosing to cover her face in shame, sniffling slowly. She whimpers and lets out delicate sobs as her ladies soothe her, shushing her.

The Dauphin takes his daughter into his arms, clutching her so tenderly, as Catherine gets to work on tying off the chord connecting to Mary, who still wept as her ladies shushed her.

Henry fully turns and walks towards his son and his new granddaughter. Francis stands to show his father and King the baby in his arms, and Henry swallows thickly as he takes in the baby, the new heir to Scotland only.

The current Queen suddenly begins to moan in a tone so low and horrible. Future and present Kings turn to her in concern, while the woman who connects them suddenly cries out.

"My God, I see another! Another head!"

"Another child?" Henry asks, surprised.

"Yes, you fool. Mary's been carrying more than one!" Catherine snaps. Suddenly, the entire room snaps back into action, and Mary's cries of childbirth begin again. The baby wails in horror at the noise, and the children cringe as the yells begin again. Francis, give your daughter to your father, you need to be here now."