Isabel stood in front of Anne's home, holding her son in her arms. She had just fed him and the little bundle of energy had finally fallen asleep, but for the sake of the family who had taken her in, she stayed outside. Anne was right in a way, Isabel adored her newborn son, but she had barely gotten a wink of sleep. He was both the light and darkness in her life and Isabel loved it.
She hummed as she looked up at the sky, a smile breaking across her face. The sound of horse hooves clattering on the mash-up of stone and dirt brought her back to reality and Isabel felt her heart clench at the sight of Arthur's father dismounting.
Henry approached her hesitantly and she walked over to him, bridging the invisible gap that had kept them apart for more than nine months. "Henry, come see your son."
"My love," he whispered and she looked up at him. "I'm glad you're safe," Henry murmured, letting his lips brush against her cheek, making Isabel smile. "You took the words right out of my mouth." Arthur squirmed and his eyes fluttered open.
He let out a gurgle, taking Henry's attention away from Isabel to him. "What's his name?" he asked, looking down at his son in wonder. "Arthur," Isabel responded immediately, "It is something both of our countries share."
"Can I hold him?" Henry asked childishly and Isabel smiled. "Of course, just be careful," she said as she passed Arthur over to Henry. "Support his head and his back," Isabel instructed, holding her hands under Arthur as his father adjusted his hold on him. "I swear if you drop our son, I'll gut you," she grumbled, making him chuckle.
"I wouldn't dare," Henry said before looking down at Arthur. "He has blue eyes," he commented and Isabel rolled her eyes. "All babies have blue eyes," she said and he looked at her. "Yes, but his will remain blue, like his mother's."
Isabel leaned against Henry as she looked down at Arthur. "Maybe, but I hope he's like his father and is kind and brave," she murmured and their son let out a wail and Henry winced. "He's crying," he grumbled and Isabel laughed. "Sing to him, he likes that."
"I can't sing, you know that Isabel," Henry said wryly and she chuckled. "I know, don't worry. And I'll promise never to tell Arthur about that one time when you got drunk enough to try."
His face turned a dark shade of pink and she kissed his cheek. "I'm sure he'll love you either way." Arthur burst into tears and the two parents looked at each other before looking down at the crying baby.
"I have a feeling we're not going to be getting a lot of sleep," Henry said as he passed Arthur to Isabel. She took him in her arms and began to rock her son in her arms as she hummed. Her fingers tugged the blanket up around Arthur and she kissed his forehead. "Go to sleep, darling. Your father is here, everything will be fine."
The small family of three remained outside a warm breeze the only real disturbance around them. Henry stood behind Isabel, watching her beam down at Arthur, all of her love and joy directed towards their son. He wished they could stay like this, him, Isabel, and their child, but Henry knew it would never last. Not when he had his duty to England.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair, relishing in the faint smell of beeswax and lavender and taking refuge in the warmth she radiated. "We should head back to the army," Henry murmured against her skin and Isabel's eyes fluttered shut as she felt him brush her hair away from her neck and kiss the delicate skin under her ear.
"Hm, but what if I want to stay here?" She asked, her eyes opening to look up at the sky. "Then I'd have no choice but to kidnap you," he hummed and Isabel looked vaguely offended.
"How arrogant of you," she chided and Henry smiled. "It was a jest, darling. I wouldn't do anything to make you unhappy, I promise," he swore and she looked over her shoulder at him. "Really?" Isabel asked, her eyes hopeful and Henry nodded solemnly.
"Yes," said Henry as he avoided looking uncertain. All he could do was promise, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to go through with it. After all, he was at war with France and he couldn't bend to Isabel's will all the time, he'd lose everything he had worked for if he did.
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"Isabel!" John ran up to her as she slipped off the horse she had ridden after passing Arthur to Henry. "You are well," he said brightly as Thomas and Humphery followed quickly behind him. Isabel smiled and took Arthur from Henry's arms. "Yes and Arthur is very healthy," she said and Thomas looked at the child.
"He's small," he commented and Humphery elbowed him in the gut.
"You looked like that when you were a babe too."
"I know! It's just surprising! Anyways, what are we going to do with a baby?" Thomas questioned, "We can't just let it wander around the camp, it's too dangerous."
Henry and Isabel shared a look before Henry looked at his brothers. "I've acknowledged Arthur as my son, so he will take the last name of 'FitzRoy'. Let our men know that he is my son and only heir and that he will not be harmed," Henry commanded and his brothers nodded.
If anyone hurt a hair on Arthur's head, Isabel would rip them to shreds and everyone knew that.
"Pardon me, but I'd like to put Arthur to bed before he starts crying again," Isabel said, ducking her head and the Lancasters moved out of the way, letting her move through the camp. As she walked, many of the men she had worked alongside for almost over a year greeted her like an old friend and treated Arthur with none of the distaste a bastard should receive.
Isabel walked into Henry's tent and found that it seemed extremely clean compared to Anne's cottage, but she shook that thought out of her head. Henry was a king and could afford any luxury while Anne was struggling to get by with four children, Isabel had no right to compare the two.
She was about to move over to the bed when she froze. Isabel turned and looked down at the roughly carved cradle. A smile broke across her face as she shifted Arthur to one arm so she could run a hand over the inside surface of the wood. Isabel placed her son in the cradle and leaned over to watch him sleep.
Isabel didn't know how long she stood there and watched Arthur rest, but when there was a rustle of fabric, signaling the opening of the tent flap, Arthur's eyes fluttered open. He blinked owlishly, his big blue eyes looking up at Isabel before his eyelids slipped close again. Isabel was entranced, her eyes watching his tiny hands clenched into fists and his eyelashes, like little wisps of snow twitched as his eyelids flickered. She wanted to reach down and stroke the top of his head to remind herself that he was real, but Isabel resisted the urge to do so.
"Isabel-" The person behind her started in a whisper. She cut the person off as she shushed him quietly and pulled the blanket closer to Arthur before turning to them. "We'll talk outside," said Isabel in a low voice to Henry. "Your son has some very powerful lungs and I'd like to keep him sleeping for a little longer," she murmured and Henry chuckled. "Yes, I think we'd all like that," he whispered, taking her hand in his and leading her outside.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" She asked, tilting her head to the side as she took the arm he offered her. "It's about our son," Henry started and Isabel sighed as they walked through the camp. "You know he will be a bastard and I am sure you don't want that," he said. She pursed her lips and nodded.
"That is true, I don't want any child, especially ours to be looked down on just because their parents had them out of wedlock," Isabel said truthfully, remembering her episode only months before when she had almost killed her son.
"Then marry me," Henry said and she stopped in her tracks. "Henry," Isabel began her eyes grave. "Think about what you are asking of me and of yourself."
"I have and-" he stopped as she turned and touched his cheek with her free hand. "Listen to me, Henry. Do you know what would happen to you if you married a French peasant girl? What would happen to England?"
"I could get the pope's permission and you managed to win over my men in a matter of months, I'm sure you could win over England," Henry insisted and Isabel forced a smile.
"I love you, Hal, but you must realize that the crown and throne of England must come first, and even if we did get married, who's to say that it won't blow up in our faces? A love like ours can only last when we are both free. I wouldn't survive a day in your court and people would ridicule you for your choice, papal dispensation or no. It would sour our hearts and I'd blame you and you'd do the same to me," she reasoned and he looked down at her.
"I know, but I wanted to give our son and future children a better life," he whispered and Isabel let her hand slide down his cheek and rest on his chest.
"You can by being there as their father, not their king. If Arthur is raised well, he will be able to create his own path," she said and Henry sighed. "Sometimes you are too hopeful," he admitted and she smiled.
"Well someone in this relationship has to be, Henry Lancaster," Isabel said and he kissed her. She smiled against his lips and let go of his arm and reached up with both her hands and deepening it. They pulled away after a moment and Isabel looked at Henry, slightly breathless, but happy nonetheless. "Never leave me," he breathed and Isabel leaned against him as he hugged her.
"Tell that to God, he seems to take joy in ripping people like us apart," she said wryly. "Every time we get close, something just happens to make us argue." Henry held back a smile and pulled gently away from her and crossed his arms. "You're tongue is going to get you in trouble one day, Isabel."
She shrugged, rolling her shoulders in the way of the French before she smiled. "I'll be fine. Remember, I insulted you in front of your men and the only punishment I got was being dragged through France with the English King," said Isabel as she walked away.
"I wouldn't exactly call that a 'punishment'."
"Exactly."
Henry stared at her as she walked away from him before he let out a snort of disbelief. No matter how innocent and caring Isabel seemed, she always surprised him and he liked that about her. He turned on his heel and crossed the camp to his tent where he looked down at his son before picking him up.
Arthur, who had been squirming in his cradle a moment before, held out his hands, grasping at the air and Henry smiled.
"You might be my son, but you have so much of your mother in you," he murmured. "I'll take France for you and join it with England under one crown, then you'll be safe and then you'll be able to sleep without fears as your mother does when she thinks I'm not looking."
The baby in his arms cooed and a Henry hugged him gently, afraid that too much pressure would shatter the child. "The whole world will be yours," he murmured and after a moment of hesitation said, "My little prince."
Arthur's Note
Go check out the second book in my Royal Blood series, Rising High.
Basically, it follows Arthur FitzRoy from the time of his father's death with a time skip to his service in the Hundred Years War against France and his meeting with his counterpart in the war and cousin, Joan of Arc, and eventually ending with the beginning of Edward VI's reign.
More will be revealed as the story progresses and I'm planning on finishing D' Arc before moving to Rising High, although that doesn't mean that I won't occasionally upload chapters in the story.
Arthur's name is derived from King Arthur, the mythical figure of Britain's lore with Welsh roots, but the French also stake strong claims on him too. 'Will this play any important significance in the future?' you may ask. To be honest, I have no idea.
Anyways, I hope you all have enjoyed the story so far, and keep an eye out for more chapters.