THE DAUPHIN'S BIRTHDAY
AN ORIGIONAL HISTORICAL FANFIC FEATURING MARIE STUART AND FRANCOIS DE VALOIS
DISCLAIMER: This work is mine, along with the plot. These characters are historical and in the public domain, the imagining of their personalities are mine, it has NO affiliation with any TV SHOW past or present. No part of this work may be copied, redistributed or reworked without permission of the author. NO money is being made from posting this work here…
Author's Note: This is a rough, unedited part of a chapter from my upcoming novel the WILD ROSE AND THE GILDED LILY. This scene is set AFTER, FIRST CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE
Dedicated to the long suffering Frary Fandom.
December went on it's merry way, bringing January in it's wake and giving Catherine de Medici very little time to ponder the problem of Marie Stuart. The Queen of France had a birthday party to organise, and whereas Francois' birthday in previous years have been rather quiet, passing without much fanfare, this year her husband wanted a spectacle.
"It is time for the boy to take his place as Dauphin," Henry had told his wife. "It is time for Francois to claim his rightful place as heir to the throne of France, and not just in name or ceremonially. It is time the people get to know their future king..."
"But Henry, his health..."
"Seems to be much improved of late," he'd cut her off. "Besides you hiding the boy in the nursery and treating Francois like some breakable doll for years has not done his health much good or his image for that matter..."
"I kept him alive this long," Catherine had pointed out vexed.
"Yes, you did," the king had replied dryly, "and I thank you kindly for that service, but now it's time to release the boy to his destiny. As Dauphin he belongs to France, Madame, sometimes I fear you forget that..."
In the present Catherine bristled as she remembered that conversation of barely a week ago. Forget. Catherine snorted to herself, as if that were possible. It was bitter irony that if her husband were to ever discover the desperate lengths she went to, to secure a heir for France, Henry would likely separate her head from her shoulders...
Shaking her head as if to clear it of the morbid thoughts, Catherine turned her attention to the matter at hand, which in this case was the menu for the three day long Fete of celebration Henry was a logistical nightmare, and then there was still the seating chart to consider!
The Queen had just decided that the Duke of Savoy would have to sit between the Marquis of Brittany and the Duke of Loire, when Francois' nanny entered the dinning hall, red faced and out of breath.
"Pardon, your Majesty, but you had better come to the nursery quickly!"
"Is it Francois?" Catherine asked as an icy fist gripped her heart.
The woman nodded, opening her mouth to explain, but the Queen wasn't waiting for any explanations. Catherine dropped all the parchment and plans and practically ran to the nursery the nanny following behind, wheezing for breath.
As Catherine neared the nursery she heard the newly five year-old Francois' adamant voice: "I will not!" She heard a soft thump, like the sound of a tiny buckskin boot being stamped on marble and the fist of fear around her heart loosened a fraction. If he could speak he was still breathing...
She rounded the corner to see Francois, delicate as a doll standing in the middle of the changing room, a mighty frown creasing his forehead, arms folded defiantly across a small chest clad in a white linen shirt embroiled with gold thread. Catherine frowned as she recognized the shirt Marie gave Francois for his birthday the night before. Seeing the De Chaunecy's gift of beautifully made golden armour discarded on the nearby bed, Catherine guessed what had transpired.
"Francois, mon petit," she said striving for a calm she did not feel. "Why are you not in your armor, the day's festivities will be starting any moment, surely you don't want to be late for your own party?"
"I want to wear my birthday shirt..."
"But isn't the armor very beautiful?" Catherine cajoled. "Remember how the whole Court cheered when you put it on yesterday?" Catherine hunched down to look her son in the eye. "Do you know, darling boy that I heard some courtiers talking this morning?"
"Courtiers always talk." Francois replied, his mouth still set into a stubborn line. The expression suddenly reminding Catherine very much of her husband.
"Yes I suppose they do, but in this instance they were talking about you..."
Something flickered for an instant in the boy's blue eyes, a shadow of hurt that passed so quickly that afterwards Catherine would wonder if it had ever really been there to begin with.
"They were calling you the Gilded Lily of France and saying how handsome you look in the golden armor from Margurite De Chaunecy... It is a great and very expensive gift, Francois not to mention a marked sign of respect. Would you have the De Chaunecy's think you do not appreciate their gift?"
Francois said nothing, glancing sideways at the armour on the bed. "Do you think Marie would find me handsome in the armour, mother?"
Catherine instantly bristled, but covered her reaction quickly.
"But of course, Catherine replied faking a smile. "How could the Queen of Scots possibly think otherwise, when you shine like the sun?"
Francois thought his mother had things upside down, it was Marie that was the sun and he the moon, but he thought it best, for the moment, not to call his mother out on her error. "I guess I could wear it for the morning," the Dauphin conceded after a few more seconds of consideration.
Catherine, the nanny and the frazzled looking valet breathed a collective sigh of relief, but it was short-lived because the moment the valet went to remove the shirt Francois turned all obstinate once more.
"Francois really," Catherine scolded, "we have to take the shirt off to put the armour on..."
"NO!" Francois' eyes fairly blazed at his mother, "I want to keep the shirt on."
"What have we here," King Henry's voice suddenly spoke from the nursery doorway, "not a palace rebellion I hope..."
Francois looked guilty for just an instant, before running towards his father, letting the king sweep him into his arms. "I want to wear this handsome shirt beneath my golden armour, father." Francois explained solemnly.
"Ah I see, a question of fashion, indeed it is very important for a prince to look his best..."
Francois nodded.
"And this is a very handsome shirt indeed." Henry glanced at Catherine. "It's the shirt Marie made is it not?"
Catherine's sigh was answer enough. Henry hid a smile.
"It is indeed father," Francois replied eagerly, "it's the handsomest shirt I ever had!"
"Really Francois, you have plenty of very fine shirts!" Catherine objected.
"But Marie made this one!"
"Ah, there's the distinction I see," the king said with a knowing smile. "You know several of my handsomest shirts were made by your mother..."
Beside them Catherine stiffened. Henry was simply toying with her now, there was no way he remembered any of the shirts she made for him as a love-struck girl of fourteen. It was a life-time ago, back when she still dreamed that their marriage may be based on more than just politics and duty...
"Really Mama?" Francois asked in wonder.
"I made your father some shirts once, a long time ago," she replied swallowing desperately at a sudden, mortifying lump in her throat.
"I tell you what," Henry told his son with a knowing smile. "I see no reason why you shouldn't wear this shirt beneath your armor. After all your lady made it especially for you..."
"That's just what I was thinking, sire," Francois said, grinning broadly as his father lowered him back to the floor.
The King and Queen watched for a few moments and then quietly left the room when it became clear that there would likely be no further outburst from Francois, who now stood perfectly still as his valet dressed him in the gleaming armour.
"Since when do you give our son his way in everything?" Catherine asked in an accusing tone as they entered the hallway leading back to the great hall.
"Letting him wear the shirt he wants to his birthday does not seem unreasonable, Madame." Henry replied in a bored tone. "Indeed I daresay if Margurite De Chaunecy had made that shirt you would not have objected one bit to the boy wearing it..."
"The de Chaunecy's did Francois a great turn by giving him that armour."
"You think so, do you?" The king's voice was mocking now. "It does not bother you that a family who had to buy their title and who is now actively courting a union with the House of Bourbon, a Protestant House, has set their sight on our son?"
"I don't see..."
"Don't you, truly?" Henry looked truly shocked at her incomprehension as he pulled her into the nearest small alcove.
"I don't understand what your problem is," The French Queen hissed. "Margaruite, is beautiful, very rich, cultured..."
"And Protestant." Henry interrupted in a voice that carried a strange finality. "The Dauphin of France, my son, will marry a Catholic, a Catholic Queen, ideally and isn't it lucky dearest that we have one under this very roof and that our son, as the fates would have it, seems rather enamoured with her..."
Catherine fairly gnashed her teeth in frustration. "The girl you are so hell-bent on making our daughter-in-law is a disruptive presence in this chatteau! She has turned everything upside down and she has an appalling affect on our son. He has turned willful and stubborn almost overnight and..."
"...And he's out of the nursery, running and playing like any other healthy boy his age..."
"That's hardly the point, Henry..."
"I disagree Catherine our son's improved health and the fact that at least some at court are starting to take him seriously as heir to the throne, and apparently, if I understand you correctly, in large part due to Marie Stuart's influence, then I'd say those are points very much in her favour and we are in the girl's debt..."
"Francois has grown too fond of the girl in too short a period, what if she hurts him one day?"
"I don't think that is your true concern, Catherine. I think your concern is the same as it has been from the start. You loathe that this girl can command our son's attention because up until recently that was your priviliege alone..." The king walked away from her then, leaving her in stunned silence and more than a little mortified that this man seemed to be able to see inside her soul...
In the royal nursery two children were blissfully unaware of their bethrowal or the strife their growing friendship was causing between the king and queen of France. Marie arrived at the Dauphin's chambers a short time after the king and Queen had left and she could not help but admire the sight of him in the armour, even if a small part of her hated knowing that the armour was a gift from Margurite De Chaunecy.
"You know," Marie began after a short lull in their conversation about all the excitement this day would offer, "there will be a joust today..."
"There will be several," Francois responded just a little sulkily. "Not one of which I may compete in yet, Mother's orders, and I must say I find it most vexing that in this Father seems to agree with her, for once..."
"There will be other opportunities when you are older," Marie said in a light, matter of fact tone, having no doubt that what she was saying would be true. "According to uncle Francis I am to present a token to a knight of my choice today..."
Francois made no answer, he knew of course that in addition to riding in honor of him and his birthday, his Father had decreed that Marie be afforded the same honor. Francois had, had no problem with that when his father first presented the idea to him, just after Yule. But that was when he thought he would at least have a chance to compete for his friend's favour.
He was devastated when both his parents made it clear that under no circumstances could he take part in this joust, he was too young, too precious to France and so on, but somewhere in a place he could not even really articulate, Francois knew that none of the flood of reasons they were giving him were the real one. He was small, and not just in years. Years passed and the small, the young grow up.
Their concern, even if they would not say it to his face, was his physical smallness, ever since he was old enough to understand, the children of nobles who his mother sometimes brought to the nursery would whisper 'dwarf' or 'runt' under their breath and when he was playing with a toy and they wanted it, well they'd simply gang up on him and take it, and most of the time break the toy for good measure, he would try to fight back, but he was no match for them, and after a while he started feigning tiredness whenever a play day was coming up.
Soon his mother stopped bringing other children around, except for Lizzie very occasionally. His sister was kind to him, but she seemed afraid of breaking him sometimes, then Marie came and everything changed.
"Francois...Francois?" The Dauphin was shaken out of his reverie by the sound of Marie's voice and by the look on her face she may have been trying to get his attention unsuccessfully for some time.
"I'm sorry Marie I did not hear you. What did you say?"
"I asked whether you would do me the honor of accepting this token, dear knight?"
Francois saw that she was holding out to him a scarf of the same material as his shirt. It was edged with gold thread and had the initials M.R and a small crown embroiled upon it. The Dauphin was momentarily too shocked to do anything but stare at her.
"Don't you want it?" Marie asked in a voice which had suddenly grown small.
"Don't be silly," he said as he quickly took the scarf. "It's beautiful."
"Then you will do me the honor of wearing this token of my favor?"
"Marie, I'm not jousting today...maybe not ever..." He admitted quietly, both to her and to himself. "I'm no knight..."
"Yes you are." Marie said, her voice quietly adamant and ringing with the authority of someone crowned queen when she was a mere six days old. "Knighthood is not about riding horses and poking people with yard long sticks, not really. It's about kindness, gentleness, gallantry and a brave heart...you have all those things even if you never, ever joust...
As she spoke Francois felt as if his heart was expanding, growing bigger and bigger until he feared that it might burst right out of his chest, until it felt like the entire universe could fit inside his chest. Could she, did she really see him like that?
"You are a knight, Francois," she said firmly. "The only knight I would ever want to give my favour to..."
Francois could think of nothing to say and if he tried he was suddenly desperately afraid he might cry, so instead he leaned over and gave Marie a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek.
When he pulled back she was smiling brightly at him, her fair cheeks stained with a rosy blush. "Would you do the honors my lady," he asked when he finally trusted his voice again.
Marie took the scarf from him and tied it around his upper left arm, and if Francois noticed that her hands were shaking ever so slightly, he was gallant enough not to say anything.
The two children were unaware that their conversation had not been as private as they thought. Just outside the nursery door, stood Francois' long-time nanny. The door had been open a fraction and she'd been about to enter with the laundry when she heard the two children talking and lingered outside the door so as not to interrupt them.
After hearing their exchange the old woman wiped away a single tear and smiled to herself. There was nothing like young love...Turning away from the door she deposited the laundry on a nearby chair. Packing it away could wait until later. Today was to celebrate the Gilded LIly of France.
By the afternoon, Catherine felt safe in declaring the day's festivities a success. There was more than enough to eat and drink and the knights looked suitably handsome in their armour, all paying their homage, on this occasion, to the Dauphin. The French Queen refused to acknowledge that all present were also paying their respects to Marie Queen of Scots. To Catherine's mind it was simply another example of how out of hand Henry's ambition for England had gotten, but even she had to admit that her boy seemed very happy today and she could not fool herself into believing that it had nothing to do with the little queen sitting by his sight, cheering wildly for all the knights, but giving her favor to none.
Or at least so Catherine thought. She learned of her mistake when she checked on Francois during a pause in the proceedings, the Dauphin was momentarily on his own, Marie having been called away by Elizabeth and one of the four Mary's. That was when she saw the scarf...
She recognized it as the one Marie had been so diligently working on, during their embroidery sessions, in the weeks since her return to French court. In fact Catherine had asked her about it not a week past. She had secretly thought it more evidence of the vanity she saw in the girl, a vanity almost everyone else at court seemed willfully blind to.
"Marking your handkerchief, are you, I'm not sure that's called for?" Catherine's voice was perhaps a little more biting than she intended, but she could not help herself, the girl irritated her as few of her acquaintance had the ability to do.
Marie looked up at her with big blue eyes, aware that she had once again managed to vex the Queen of France, though not entirely sure how or why. The two of them have been sitting and working together for the better part of an hour and Marie had been careful to speak very little. "It is a gift, your Grace..."
"Oh I see," Catherine said. "I suppose you mean to pass this around among your many admirers at court..."
"No, it's a gift for someone very special. I'm only making one..."
"Mother are you alright?" Francois' voice brought Catherine back to the present,
The Queen cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "Yes of course, dear one. I was just about to ask how you were doing when I noticed your lovely handkerchief. I don't recall seeing it this morning..."
"Marie gave it to me after you and father left this morning," Francois said with a huge smile, "she says she doesn't care if I ever joust or not because what makes a knight is having a brave heart...I feel ten feet tall."
Catherine found herself momentarily speechless as she looked at the beaming smile on her son's face. He looked happier than she'd ever seen him and maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, but his posture did seem much improved.
Later she would blame what happened next on her pregnancy and being overly emotional, but as it happened Marie chose that moment to return to Francois' side. When she saw Catherine sitting in the throne-like chair on the Dauphin's right, Marie simply greeted the Queen with a respectful nod and moved to stand behind his chair, and for the first time since Marie Stuart had come to the French Court, Catherine looked at the girl she considered her rival, really looked at her.
She saw everything the courtiers and even the common people of France gushed about: The shinning red gold hair falling down her back in resplendent waves, the big expressive eyes, the beginnings of a willowy figure... In short Marie Stuart was showing signs, even at the tender age of six, of the ravishing beauty she would become.
But that was not all Catherine De Medici saw when she looked at Marie Stuart on that particular day. She noticed the pale hand resting on her son's shoulder and the utter naturalness of it, the smile directed at him and only him, the light in the girl's eyes when she looked at the Dauphin...
Catherine had been at Court long enough to be able to discern between fake adoration and respect and the real thing. Marie's eyes shone with something real, and in that moment as Catherine regarded the girl purely as a mother would a respective daughter-in-law whose presence was required for her son's happiness and not as a Queen pursuing political goals, something shifted.
Catherine De Medici stood up. "Come and take your rightful place beside my son, Marie." She said with a smile and the confusion that flickered for the briefest of second in the girl's eyes was not lost on her. She stepped aside to show that she meant it. "Come the tournament will resume shortly..."
"Yes, Marie," Francois encouraged. "Take your place beside me...would you like me to get you some marsipan or sugared almonds?"
"I'll send one of the servants with them," Catherine said and as she spoke she placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, squeezing lightly she bend down, whispering in Marie's ear. "Thank you my dear, for the kindness you show my son..."
Then she walked away quickly in search of a servant with the confectionary the children required. She knew herself well enough to realize that she would never like this girl all of France seemed to be losing their heart's to, but for the very first time since Marie Stuart arrived at French Court Catherine had glimpsed that the girl had true worth, to Francois, and therefore to Catherine herself.
Marie Stuart made her son happy, indeed, Catherine was beginning to suspect that the girl might be essential to the boy's happiness, which in turn made her essential to Catherine. The Queen of France was many things, but never let it be doubted that she was a good, devoted mother to her children...
Finding a servant she dispatched him with the desired treats before taking her own place beside Henry, Diane De Portier having removed herself and her bastard daughters to Paris for the week. It was as the first day's tournament was nearing it's end, Catherine turned to Henry and said, "Very well then."
Henry looked at her, perplexed. "Very well, what?"
"I will no longer stand in the way of Francois' bethrowal to Marie Queen of Scots," Henry looked at her with such surprise that she felt the need to clarify, "that's not to say that I have changed my view about your plan being a potential political disaster, or that I don't still believe France can do much better than Scotland, but it does mean I won't try to derail the bethrowal."
"May I be so bold as to enquire as to why?"
In answer Catherine's gaze flickered to where Marie and Francois could be seen walking amongst the various stalls set up on the lawns below the pavillion, Elizabeth having joined them. Francois, from the looks of it was having a rather animated discussion with the two girls, laughing and gesturing with his hands. Whatever he was telling them caused both girls to laugh in turn. The happy sounds carried on the wind.
"I don't think I ever recall seeing our son so alive," Henry said, his voice sounding suspiciously gruff for a moment.
"You know how much I hate to agree with you," Catherine said dryly. "As such I hope you appreciate how galling it is for me to admit that you may have had a point this morning..."
"Really," Henry said amusedly. "I recall making several points at the time. Which one are you referring to, Catherine?"
"Whatever else she may be, or grow up to be," Catherine replied. "Marie Stuart is good for our son and we may well be in her debt..."
Henry smiled as he took the Queen's hand and brought it to his lips to bestow a quick, chaste and courtly kiss on her knuckles. "My dear," he said, "for the first time in a long time it seems you and I are in complete agreement..."
"Scary thought," Catherine said with wry humor. "I do hope it is not a sign that the End of the World is imminent..."
Beside her, Henry chuckled.
The ball that followed the first day's tournament was all that was decadent, opulent and lavish with Catherine having pushed much of her own De Medici money into the three day celebration. Her children deserved the best of everything and Catherine would stop at nothing to give it to them.
The Chatteau's dinning hall was decorated with crystals that glittered in the lights of over a thousand candles and light blue and gold was the dominant colour of decoration. It was also the colours both Marie and Francois chose to wear. Their outfits mirroring each other with the Dauphin wearing a doublet of gold, trimmed with light blue and matched with light blue hose and shoes, while Marie's dress was light blue, trimmed with gold and with gold shoes to match.
They made quite the handsome picture.
"It was a good idea to dress them to match, Catherine."
"I do which I could take the credit, Henry," the Queen replied, "but it wasn't my doing..."
"It was Francois' idea, Mama." Lizzy spoke up where she stood beside her parents. "He let Marie know some months back what he planned to wear and asked her to dress to match him..."
"Are we sure the boy is only five, Catherine?" Henry asked jokingly and then turning more serious, "he must have been watching the Court and us, more closely than we realised..."
It was a truly disturbing thought and one Catherine did not care to dwell on at that moment. What mattered was that somehow Francis had picked up on the fact that sometimes couples at French Court dressed to mirror one another, especially on special occasions. It was more than a fashion fad though, it was a statement.
Francois was only five and Marie six, there was no way the boy was doing anything more than mimicking what he saw or heard, at least that's what Catherine told herself.
And yet...
There was a glint in Francois' eye as he walked into the great banquet hall that night, with Marie Stuart Queen of Scots on his arm. It looked a lot like pride, yes, but more besides. Triumph.
Because for the first time everyone present in the room took notice when he entered. Perhaps for the very first time Francois de Valois was truly seen by the nobles of French Court and his peers as the Dauphin of France, and by his side the six year old Queen of Scotland, glittering in gold and shinning like the sun, looked equally proud and contented in being on his arm.
An almost awed hush fell over the gathered court, each one present dressed in their best finery as candlelight glinted on diamonds and precious stones of every description, yet nothing coming close to the young couple in whose honor this banquet was being held.
A trumpet sounded as the couple was announced: "His Grace, The Dauphin, Duc de Anjou, Francois De Valois and her Royal Highness, Marie Stuart, Queen of Scotland!"
There was a moment of silence and then a thunderous applause, the likes of which Catherine hadn't heard since her father-in-law, Francis II's time. Around her she heard the whispers of courtiers. 'Mon Deux, what an adorable couple they make!' 'How precious!' 'Doesn't the Dauphin look very well tonight...I think I spy the Valois grace...' 'Isn't the little queen just gorgeous, she will truly be a credit to the Dauphin and to France!'
Catherine let all these whispers wash over her and in a rare moment allowed herself to drink it in, sharing in her five-year-old son's triumph. Of course, even as she allowed herself this momentary indulgence she was very aware that not everyone was happy about the dauphin's triumphant entry.
"Prince Conde looks a little under the weather this evening," Henry whispered beside her, indicating that he had noticed the sour faces of the Bourbon set as well. Eighteen year-old Lois de Bourbon, a prince of the blood, and one of those closest to the French throne after Francois, looked particularly dissatisfied with life at that moment.
"Yes well as we both know keeping a mistress can be expensive, and then if your idealistic, young and very oblivious wife discovers the truth...and turns out to be very unco-operative..." Catherine smiled slowly. "Of course there may also be the little matter of seeing the throne of France slip further from his grasp..."
As the orchestra struck up a tune Francois led his lovely companion to the dance floor and together they opened the dance portion of the evening to rapturous applause and more gasps of delight from the majority of the courtiers.
But in a far corner of the room, Eléanor de Roucy de Roye, young wife of Prince Conde was having far less fun as she tried to keep her seven year-old charge, Marguriete de Chaunecy from a full blown temper tantrum.
Stealthily the Queen moved, unseen, closer to the red faced girl and the clearly exasperated young woman, until she was close enough to hear their conversation.
"But Francois was supposed to dance with ne and walk in with me and dress like me, you said so!" The girl stomped her foot hard on the marble floor for emphasis as she tore at her red dress. "You said if we gave him golden armour Francois would have to do what we want and he would have to dance with me and play with me and one day I would be Queen of France instead of that common heretic from Scotland...!"
"Margurite! Lower your voice!" The princess of Conde hissed.
"You said!" The child screeched, her tantrum only drowned out by the music from the orchestra and the applause following the end of Marie and Francois' dance set.
Having heard enough, Catherine moved away and was just in time to see Marie pull Francois behind a pillar.
"You have to dance with Margurite now," Marie prodded.
"I don't want to."
"It's expected, besides it's a nice way to thank her for the armour..."
"Or I can just give the armour back instead..."
"Francois!"
"I don't like her!"
"That's wholly beside the point," Marie said in a no nonsense tone. "You were born to privelege, but with that comes responsibility and duty..."
A few minutes later Catherine had to stifle a smile as she watched her son walk dutifully over to ask Margurite de Chaunecy to dance, but not before she overheard him whispering to Marie. "Tomorrow we're playing knight and dragon and you are going to be the dragon..."
"But I don't like being the dragon..."
"Too bad," Francois smirked. "You were born to privelege, but with that comes responsibility and duty..."
"That's so not the same thing."
"It is if the Dauphin of France says so!" He told her with a grin.
"I hate it when he does that!" Marie complained to Lizzie, but the small smile playing about her lip belied her words.
Just like she did a few weeks before at Yuletide, Catherine had a sense that she was somehow glimpsing the future, the future of this court, the future of France, but perhaps more importantly, her son's future...
But this time she felt only slight discontent in the growing knowledge that Marie Queen of Scots would be a part of that future. Now that Catherine de Medici had accepted the inevitability of Marie's necessity for Francois happiness, her personal feelings for the girl, feelings that remained unchanged, had to move aside. Francois' happiness was paramount to her. It had been that way since the instant she conceived him and it would be that way until the day he breathed his last, a day Catherine prayed she would never live to see...
During his dance with Margurite, Francois displayed all the courtly graces required of him, but Catherine, attuned as she was to the boy's every nuance, easily detected the air of boredom. This dance was duty, pure and simple, his dance with Marie had been anything but.
Just before their nannies were scheduled to come and fetch the children for bed, Catherine found her son standing before her, tiny hand outstretched. "Mother may I have the honour of this dance?"
"But of course good sir!" She replied, a rare and genuine smile lighting her face.
She allowed the boy to lead her to the centre of the floor as a little way away Catherine spied Marie talking to the king who was smiling at her as fondly as if she were his own daughter.
About halfway through the dance Francois spoke up, "I wanted to thank you, mama, for a wonderful day and all the trouble you went through to arrange it..."
His solemn tone made her smile, even as unshed tears of love and joy shone in her eyes. "Francois, I love you very much, you know that, right?"
"I know," the boy said with simple confidence.
"Nothing I ever do for you or your sister is trouble..."
"You've made this the best birthday ever, mama."
"There's still two more days left of the fete, you know?" She reminded him.
"I know, but I figured I should tell you now what a good time I had in case I have too much fun and forget to tell you later."
Catherine De Medici laughed then, not the mocking sound the courtiers were so used to, but a carefree joyous sound that had the courtiers whispering for days to come.
King Henry too, looked up in surprise at the sound he hadn't heard in many years. He considered a moment before holding out his hand to the girl queen beside him. Marie smiled at him taking the offered hand with a respectful nod.
Catherine was so engrossed in her boy, this familiar, yet somehow strange Francois, that she did not notice the king and Marie joining the dance until his voice called out, "Switch partners" and she found herself unexpectedly dancing with her husband, Francois being quick to reclaim Marie...
The courtiers present at that Ball and at the festivities which followed over the next few days, would all recall that three day fete as the time of a subtle shift at French court. The Gilded Lily of France and the Wild Rose of Scotland's time had begun...