The morning breaks warm for early spring. Outside the castle walls, I revel in the fresh breezes and bright sunshine - much welcomed after the hard winter's confinement. My thoughts still attempting to sort a matter of justice from yesterday's audience, I decide to take the path down by the lake. My father will expect me to provide him with my own judgment, to measure whether my tutor's efforts have been sufficient.
I hear the high-pitched cry of the male gelinotte des bois off in the trees to my right. The small grouse like to hide away, keeping close watch on their nests and avoiding discovery as best they can. An elusive species that makes for a spirited hunt every autumn.
The light, teasing wind rustles the leaves overhead and I breathe deeply the earthy scent of the world emerging to the newness of life once more. It carries with it the sound of a child laughing.
Turning off the path to investigate, I tramp through the underbrush to find the laughter's source. I duck under a low-hanging branch and spy a flash of crimson in the distance.
Their backs are turned to me as I quietly come up behind them. Clustered and bent over a depression in the grasses, I hear her sweet voice speak with a hushed awe.
"How many eggs are there, boys?"
Charles' mouth moves silently as he numbers the orbs in his mind. Little Henry swings a chubby finger around, accompanying each thrust of his finger with its number. They arrive at their conclusion of quatre in the same moment, each shouting joyously the answer to Mary's question.
"But Mary," Charles hesitates. "I don't understand what this has to do with where babies come from." His puzzled expression grows deeper as he examines the nest on the ground, full of empty and broken eggs - long since vacated by their inhabitants as the world has warmed.
"Mawy!" Henry lisps, his hands curling into frustrated fists. "Baby James not grow in bird egg!"
I watch her cheeks flush at the inquiry, rosy pink and lovely. Before I can stop it, a chuckle escapes from my lips and the entire group turns to see who has joined in their morning expedition.
"Your Grace," I say, winking at my wife.
"Your Highness." She locks eyes with me and shakes her head as she flippantly returns my tone. Though he spied me as I crept up on the trio, the guard standing nearby nods in habitual recognition of my having made myself known.
"Fwancis!" Henry exclaims and runs to me, stretching up his arms to be held. I bend down to lift him up, enveloping him and enjoying the tight squeeze he offers as he slumps into my shoulder and sighs in contentment.
"What is the lesson today?" I inquire, knowing full well that my eyes display a very mischievous glint after what I overheard just a few moments ago.
"Mary," Charles begins - obviously skeptical that their outing will result in the answers to his questions. "Mary said she would teach us about where babies come from, because we wanted to know how baby James came to be with us."
"Yes!" I hear Henry mumble sleepily above my shoulder. "Want 'nother baby James."
Mary raises her eyebrows and grins widely as I take in this latest tidbit of information and I suddenly very much understand the reasons for her earlier blush. I feel a bit uncomfortable myself.
"And what has she taught you?" I ask Charles, taking note of the soft whiffing snore from the bundle in my arms. It appears the morning's exertions have exhausted the littlest of my brothers.
Charles shuffles between his feet, deciding what he wants to say because it obviously makes little sense to him. "Well ... " He pauses and his forehead furrows as he pieces together his words. "Mary says that it happens like it does with the birds, where there are eggs and then the mother hen sits on them to keep the eggs warm until they grow enough to come out. But ... " The lines in his brow deepen. No wonder he appears confused.
"But there isn't any egg! Baby James was in Mary!" He stomps his foot, acting more like little Henry in a fit of childish agitation than his usual ten-year-old self.
I fight to keep my amusement with the situation at bay, swallowing each guffaw as it rises in my chest. No need to make the boy feel worse.
"No, it's not quite the same, is it?" Trying to soothe him, I reach out and squeeze his shoulder gently with my free hand.
"And earlier, when we looked at the lilies while we walked, she said the bees take parts of the flower to the next flower and that's how they make baby flowers." He points defiantly at her when he emphasizes the she. My insides hurt from the restraint.
I look to Mary and my eyes widen in shock. "What?" She shrugs her shoulders, challenging me to come up with a better answer to Charles's question. "That is how the nuns taught me!"
Shifting Henry's now-limp body to the other side of my own, I rest my hand atop Charles's head and speak with the straightest face I can manage: "You know, Charles, I think that might be a question best left to maman."
He nods his head sadly, reaching for Mary's hand. "I suppose," comes his defeated reply as we make our way back toward the path. "She knows more than Mary does. You don't know how it works, Francis?" His head turns to me in one last desperate attempt to find out the truth, but I shake my head and fear I must be red to the roots of my hair.
"No, Charles. I do not think I could explain it any better than Mary has." I exchange a look of sympathy with Mary, though I do wonder how she decided she could explain conception to my younger brothers.
He accepts my answer and sets his feet, resigning himself to the walk back to the castle, where the noonday meal awaits us. We trudge forward, a bit weary and warm under our cloaks as the sun has moved into the sky. Henry sleeps on, despite my movement.
Upon our arrival, the nurse gathers Henry from my arms and beckons to Charles to follow her to the nursery, where they will eat and rest and have lessons from a tutor this afternoon.
I offer my arm to Mary, feeling hers snake through its corner and her fingers come to rest against the fabric of my sleeve. We remain silent as we make our way through the corridors to our rooms, where I have requested we take our meal.
My page opens the door, waits while we enter, and then closes it behind us. The moment we hear the metal catch, we erupt into wild laughter. Mary trembles, barely able to breathe, and leans into me as we cross to the bed. I find myself shaking, recalling Henry's declaration that he wants another cousin and Charles's confusion over birds and bees and whatever they might have to do with babies.
We fall onto the bed, occasionally wracked with spasms as we calm ourselves.
"That's what the nuns taught you?" I finally eke out, rolling onto my side and taking in the beauty of my wife, glowing with joy and warm from our exertions.
"Yes! Though they certainly explained it better," she smiles. "I just got so flustered! I didn't know what to say - they kept saying they wanted another cousin! I certainly wasn't about to tell them how it actually happens. They are far too young for that."
"They are, indeed," I agree. My finger stretches out, gently smoothing back a strand of loose hair obscuring Mary's left eye. "But at least you tried. No one ever tried to explain it to me." A sadness settles on me at the recognition it was a lesson I had to make sense of on my own, with no instruction.
"I said they did a better job," she states solemnly. "I never said it made any sense." A burst of giggles bubbles up from somewhere within and she clutches at her abdomen. She catches her breath and continues, her voice serious and soft. "It didn't make sense until I came to you, that night after the siege - and later, when I discovered I was with child, with James ... " Her voice fades and her eyes glisten with the memories. Our eyes lock, remembering the first night we shared together - the first of many over the course of a lifetime.
My body floods with a deep sense of longing, with the irresistible need to be united with her. I reach for her body and untie the ribbon at her neck, causing her cloak to fall off of her shoulders. She does the same, her fingertips lingering on my neck and playing with my curls as I maneuver us into a more comfortable arrangement on the bed.
With her dress removed and her shoulders bare, I find I have little restraint. My lips leave a trail down the ridge of her neck and her hands roam freely, teasing me.
I growl hungrily at her, letting her know just what effect she has upon me.
"Well," she mutters between gasps for air as I move my mouth lower. Her sly smile can be heard in her voice. "The boys did request another cousin. There's only one way to fulfill that req-"
Lifting my head, I crush my lips to hers, cutting off her words.
We can most certainly accommodate that type of request.
Author's Notes: Just something light and fun. I do hope you enjoy it. This was written for the F/M thread hiatus challenge prompt no. 14, "egg hunting" - a prompt for which I immediately had this idea but no bandwidth to write it, as I was in the middle of Harbor. Let me know what you think!
The Nursery Tales world is slightly AU, branching a bit (aka 'significantly') from canon because, you know, they have living children, Henry hasn't died yet, there's no angsty political drama, and Francis lives for many more years. It's a happy world. :)
PostScript: Also, I did intentionally choose the term 'cousin' instead of niece or nephew. I find that the terms are often mixed up by little kids (at least in my own experience), especially when they are close in age. My backstory is that James is referred to as a cousin because it takes less explanation, which is why the boys requested another. Take it or leave it, but that's why I did what I did.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I sure have fun with what I don't own!