Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.
Catherine collapsed at hearing the words of the physician.
She had not only lost her babies, but it was her temperamental Claude that was to blame.
The grief alone nearly stole the breath right out of her.
She couldn't fathom ever having the strength to get up again, so consumed was she that she barely felt the hands that came to rest on her shoulders.
Henry.
He must have heard and come down to see for himself. She turned and buried herself in his chest, too consumed to care what this might mean to him…what he might think of her.
Henry was fickle, and lately had an eye for the twin's nanny. She knew this well, but for once didn't care. She was hurting and he was the only one she had to share her grief. He gathered her in his arms and held her as she cried, eventually dropping all the way down to the floor and pulling her into his lap.
They must have stayed there for hours, even after she had stopped crying.
Henry's attentiveness to their children was at best inconsistent, but he had come to her when Louie died as well, held her and cried with her.
The doctor had ducked out of the room not long after the king came in and so Catherine kept the revelation of what Claude had done to herself. There was no reason to cause more pain, no way to undo what had already been done.
"Catherine," Henry eventually spoke into her hair.
She couldn't move, couldn't even properly think. Her babies…oh her babies.
"Catherine we need to get up."
Turning her head to look at him she tried to find some of whatever Henry had, to find some strength within him to even just move.
What she saw brought the tears fresh to her eyes…he too had been crying, and he almost never cried. He certainly never allowed himself the luxury in this public a space, ever the strong, proud, untouchable ruler.
She brought her hand up to his face to trace the tear marks down his cheeks.
"Stay with me Henry."
Her voice was no louder than a whisper as she pleaded with him, nearly bringing him to tears again at the hurt, the pain that he heard in her voice.
Nodding, he helped her to rise off of him before following himself. He put her arm around her shoulders and held her close as they walked back to her rooms. Once there he asked one of her ladies to bring him his nightwear but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"I need to feel you close Henry, nothing between us, nothing…"
As her breaths began to shorten and quicken, he pulled her to him. Holding her close, trying to hold her together with only the strength of his touch.
Eventually she calmed and led the way to her bed.
They took their turns removing articles of clothing and then climbing in, Henry first then Catherine. Each clinging to the other for strength, for comfort. Not a word passed between them, but it was the closest they had really been in many months.
Henry stroked her hair until she fell asleep. She was so exhausted that though her sleep was fitful she found it quickly.
He on the other hand had become wracked by guilt which kept him up far later.
He had been seducing the children's nanny, the guardian of his two young daughter. Who knows what might have happened if the girl had been there, to protect them, to go and find help if needed.
He would have to be sure that she was kept silent…moved far away form court.
Another one of his failures. As if he hadn't failed the woman in his arms enough for one lifetime.
She had always been the strong one, level headed and logical.
It was why he ran from her so often, ran to Diane and his so called 'indulgences'. Catherine was an all encompassing, fully embracing force. On a good day her power, her confidence scared him. When she truly wanted to be terrifying, he was sure even the heavens shook resonating the very essence of Catherine de Medici.
Eventually joining her in sleep, Henry vowed to do better, vowed to be better.
-/-/-/-/-
Catherine woke up to….a whole lot of Henry.
Not since she was last pregnant had he stayed the night.
And then it hit her fresh, the pain of the last day….the twins.
Tired of crying, of mourning…of life, she buried herself further into his chest to try and quell the tears. To keep out the new horrors of the day at bay.
The court would need answers. An explanation as to why the twins were now dead.
As distraught as she was, she couldn't fathom telling the truth. Her poor little Claude…she couldn't imagine any child bearing so much hatred to knowingly do such a thing.
She would say that the twins had been sick with fever, that they were too young…they were.
They were too young to die,
But there was nothing to do now but protect the rest of her family.
The pregnancy had been hard. She no longer young, and carrying twins at her age was ever a concern.
In some ways she loved them more than any of her children, except for maybe Francis.
Henry had even been attentive for much of her pregnancy. It had been a surprise as she was nearing the age where she would no longer be able to bear children, and they certainly were no longer trying. With three strong young boys the Valois line was as secure as they could make it.
And then the girls had come. Her two young treasures.
She loved all of her children, but in many ways she cherished the girls in a way she never could for the boys.
It was not easy being a woman and living in these times. Her own parents had not been able to protect her from the horrors of her childhood, but she swore that she would protect her own daughters from that same fate. From the pain of all that she could…possibly even the pain of love.
It was true that she desired each of her children to find love in their lives, to know of its pleasure…but knew that it also brought pain.
She knew this all too well.
Elisabeth would soon be of marrying age and she had convinced Henry to permit her to make a political match for their daughter. She was smart and strong like her mother. She would find her own way, her own happiness.
Just then Henry began to wake.
As he began to move, waking his body a little at a time his face moved against hear hair and realization hit him like a brick. Pulling Catherine even closer he took a moment to calm his rushing thoughts.
His fault.
Her pain.
Their pain.
Could he ever find forgiveness for such an act?
"Henry?"
Looking down and finding her eyes, Henry stared into her hazel depths and his thoughts fled like a hound on a hunt.
His wife, his wife was in his arms, real whole. They were whole…together.
"I love you."
"Henry you don't have to…"
"Catherine wait. I know I haven't...I've never been very good at…"
He paused to try and collect his fleeting thoughts.
"You are so beautiful, and so strong, and so often I feel incredibly inadequate that I…"
Placing her hand on his chest, Catherine tried to calm him, to release him from whatever burden he seemed to feel on her behalf.
As sweet as it was, this was not about them. And at any rate, it would make little difference.
"Henry you don't need to do this, even just you being here has made the pain a little easier."
He tried once more to put his thoughts into words, only to be interrupted once again.
"Henry, we really don't have time for this now. We must both get up and…face our court. Walk with me later, in the gardens?" She offered an olive leaf to try and ease his distress.
Smiling softly at her ability to simplify the situation, Henry nodded his agreement, but waited for her to get up and begin her morning routine before he rose to redress. When he finally tore his gaze from her however, he realized that she was ahead of him once again.
At the end of her bed one of her ladies had laid a folded set of linens that he now realized as his clothes for the day along with the few other supplies he used to ready himself in the mornings
Chuckling to himself be started to ask where he should change and the answer was already half way out of her mouth. She was sitting at her vanity, facing an entirely different direction and she still knew what he needed.
Putting off the inevitable for just a few more moment, he walked over to her seated form, placed his hards on her shoulders and kissed to the top of her head.
"You really are amazing."
She smiled for a moment, before her memories drew her back to the last time he had called her that.
She had just birthed the children and was a sweaty mess when Henry barged in against the requests of the physicians, citing his vast experience with his wife's many birth givings. This had been the only pregnancy where he had been attentive throughout almost the whole nine months, and she welcomed his gesture despite her state of disarray.
Kissing her soundly, he held her gaze once he withdrew and lifted her spirits just a little more.
He helped to prop her up when they brought over the twins, and they each held a tiny bundle. Finally tearing his eyes away from the little girl in his arms he looked to his wife, his beautiful wife who had given him so much.
She finally looked up and caught his gaze, blushing at his scrutiny.
"You are amazing," he intoned.
Smiling she returned her gaze to their new heirs, the absolute evidence of his continued love for her, mistresses and all.
-/-/-/-/-
Over the next few weeks the grieving parents took time for each other daily.
Catherine knew it wouldn't last, but she cherished the affection for what it was.
Her marriage had been reduced to a series of moments, tucked away for the precious gifts that they were. She was too jaded now to expect anything more, but she cherished them while she could.
She held them close on the darkest of nights.
Walking in the garden alongside of him she was reminded of their younger selves, free from the weight of the country, of producing heirs, from the safety and survival of so many souls.
It was just the two of them. Both hopeful of a brighter future, both seeking a release from the pain of loss.
In some ways it was a greater degree of intimacy than they had ever experienced.
Sometimes he held her hand or cradled her elbow. Sometimes they let their arms swing freely, fingers brushing as they moved freely.
They walked together barely passing a word between them.
Words led to arguments, and neither had the desire nor the strength.
And in the absence of words they found peace.
Peace with each other, peace with their pain. A peace for which the spoken word seemed inadequate to express.
And with it they were content.