Chapter Fifty
Christmas was always a time of highest highs and lowest lows, in Harry's mind. There was always joy and celebration, but with that came responsibilities and stresses that were not present without the pressure of a holiday. He'd had good Christmases as a boy, but his mother had died just before Christmas, so the occasion that year had been darkened by grief. His father and brother and he never really bothered celebrating much after that. Then with Jane, he'd had a nice time at Christmas when Catherine and Graham were little, though he'd not been home for Christmas at all during the war. Malcolm had been in charge of buying and wrapping presents on Harry's behalf after Jane was gone, and all Harry did was show up for the day for the children to open their presents and run off to their rooms to play and otherwise ignore him. He and Malcolm would sit quietly and drink scotch by a roaring fire. That was about as festive as things got for those few years before…well, before Ruth had entered Harry's life and become the center of it all.
Before they were married, Ruth would not be able to spend Christmas with Harry and the children. She had royal responsibilities. And after they were married, Harry was obliged to participate in that as well. It was a bloody pain, but they all accepted that they had no choice, so they tried to make the best of it when they had to be in the palace from December twenty-third to the thirtieth.
Christmas for the royal family was actually quite quiet, just the immediate family at the palace to open presents and eat lunch all together. It was strange having to spend the week staying in the palace instead of their respective homes, particularly back when the family was much larger. King Richard in the master suites, Edmund and Juliet in one wing while James and Ruth and Harry and the children in another wing. Theirs was obviously much more crowded. But James always enjoyed spending time with the children, which gave Harry and Ruth some much needed time alone. They had a tradition for waking up Christmas morning that would be very inconvenient if interrupted by family. And usually their mouths were too busy to shout at people to bugger off.
This Christmas was different than any before. This Christmas was Emilia's first, and everyone wanted to make it very special. Ruth had nearly torn Harry's head off when she saw that he had conspired with her father to buy half a toy store for Emmy. Harry figured that Emmy wouldn't remember her first Christmas anyway, and the toys would be useful when the next baby arrived and the two could share. She'd eventually relented when the king had voiced his support for the idea, Ruth's babies having toys at home and at the palace whenever they visited. And Ruth would do anything her father asked. He asked for so little, and everyone knew—though no one ever said it directly—that he would not have very much time with his grandchildren, so they would all indulge him anything he wanted.
"Harry, I need your help with this zip."
He turned to see his wife come into the bedroom where Harry was tying his bowtie in the mirror. Each year on Christmas Eve, the royal family had formal photographs taken to be released in the newspaper for country on New Year's Day. All the men were in formal white tie and the women all wore incredible gowns. The royal members of the family—King James, Ruth, and Juliet—had their respective crown and tiaras.
Ruth stood there now, very visibly pregnant in the emerald green satin dress that highlighted her ever-growing belly. The gown flared out into a dramatic skirt and was very demure with its long sleeves. "Could you?" she asked, turning her back to him.
The zipper on the dress was only about halfway up. Harry abandoned his tie and came to assist her. Thankfully, her measurements had been taken only two days before at Leister to ensure the proper fit, so the zipper went up without a problem. Harry rearranged Ruth's cascading dark hair—much longer than he'd ever seen her wear it. It went well past her shoulders now. In truth, it was because she'd been out of the public eye and away from hairdressers for nearly six months, and when she'd started doing public events after maternity leave with Emmy, the consensus by the stylists was that the longer hair was lovely and could be styled in a way that would distract from the way they had to cake makeup on her face to keep her from looking haggard. Harry hadn't liked that at all when Ruth told him, but he could not help but admit, if only to himself, that it was true.
The dress was cut off the shoulder, so Harry took a moment to indulge in pressing soft kisses to her bare skin delighting in the approving hum she made. "That feels quite nice," she murmured.
"A bit of a preview for tomorrow morning," he replied softly. She shivered as his hot breath tickled her ear.
Ruth sighed happily. "I can't believe I'm pregnant two Christmases in a row, but thankfully we figured it out quite well last year."
Harry chuckled. "Yes, we did." It had taken some doing, but they'd figured out that if Harry put a pillow below his hips, he could raise himself up enough so Ruth didn't have to lean over too far with her belly getting in the way. She otherwise had no trouble maneuvering herself so her knees rested on either side of his head, and he could hold her in place just fine.
"Though thankfully I'm not so far along this year. Last time, I was almost worried we'd induce labor with all of that," Ruth recalled.
He kissed her neck again, careful to avoid all the makeup that the professionals had put on her. "I'll take that as a compliment that you react so well to my mouth."
"You've got a very talented mouth," she replied.
"As do you, darling," he whispered back.
A sharp knock on the door to their temporary bedroom jolted them out of whatever might have happened absent the well-timed interruption. "Someone wants to see Mum and Dad," came the king's voice.
Ruth pulled away from Harry and grinned excitedly, hurrying as best she could in her condition—pregnant and in heels and a formal gown was certainly a lot to contend with—to the door. She opened it to reveal the king, looking extremely regal and elegant, holding little Emmy in his arms. She, like the rest of the family, was dressed for the occasion. She had a frilly dress as white as the snow falling outside. Ruth took her daughter into her arms and hugged her close. "Look at you, lovie!" she gushed. "I cannot believe I've become the sort of mother to put her child in these stupid little dresses, but I can't help it! She looks just like a perfect little angel."
Harry had to agree with her there. Their little Emilia was smiling and her cheeks were perfectly pink and her bright blue eyes stood out with her curly blonde hair and the pretty white dress.
"Are we ready to go? The photographer's waiting."
From behind where the king was standing just inside the doorway, Harry caught a glimpse of his elder daughter. Catherine's long blonde hair was curled and swept to one side over her shoulder. Her brown eyes were piercing and intelligent with the way her makeup had been done. But it was the deep red strapless gown with the silver winter flowers on the neckline and waistline that made her look quite regal. It was utterly impossible to believe that this beautiful young woman was Harry's. She was his just as that beautiful baby in Ruth's arms was his. His two daughters, one nearly finished with university and one just starting her little life.
Catherine saw her father stare at her and get a bit misty, and she made a face of confusion. "What?" she demanded.
King James chuckled. "Leave your father alone, Catherine. He's having a bit of a time with his two daughters, I think. I'm having similar problems seeing my own daughter hold her baby like this." The king sighed, giving Ruth and Emmy a long look before turning to Harry. "Come on, Harry, let's go get this photo taken before we get too overwhelmed."
The two men led the way downstairs. Catherine carried Emmy, since Ruth couldn't be pregnant in heels and a formal gown going down three flights of stairs while also carrying a baby. Harry paused to offer to help her, but the vicious look on her face told him not to try. She could manage on her own.
They reached the throne room where the family always gathered for these annual photography sessions. The other two members of the family were already there waiting.
"Bloody hell, thank god," Graham muttered. He looked dapper and distinguished and like a grown man in his white tie and tails, but he also looked miserable. Though Harry couldn't blame him; the poor boy had been waiting with only Juliet to talk to.
The dowager queen stood there looking very elegant in her navy blue gown, also with long sleeves and off the shoulder like Ruth's but with much more adornment. She wore the same tiara she always had full of spires of emerald-cut diamonds. Apparently it had belonged to the late queen, Ruth's grandmother, and Edmund presented it to his bride on their wedding day. It was the only one that was hers for as long as she lived, while anything else of the royal jewels she wanted, she needed to ask permission to borrow. It was ostentatious but Harry knew the indignity of asking Ruth to borrow a tiara was more than Juliet wanted to bother with.
"That's the baby then," Juliet said with disdain, seeing Harry with Emmy in his arms.
"Yes," he replied warily. He was waiting for her to say something nasty so he could have a proper good row with her, Christmas be damned. Though it was probably for the best if she did not antagonize him while he held his baby.
Juliet just hummed judgmentally. Harry opened his mouth to challenge her, to ask how she or anyone else could possibly find fault with this perfect baby girl, but a hand on Harry's arm gave him pause. Ruth stood by, giving him a warning look. He just sighed and let it go.
The photographer arranged everyone the way he wanted them, King James sitting in the throne. Ruth standing to his right, angled to specifically show off her pregnancy. Harry could see she didn't like that one bit, but luckily Graham was positioned beside her and he was good at keeping Ruth in good spirits. Now that he was sober and home with the family for the holidays, things were much better.
Harry stood on the king's left with Princess Emilia. Catherine stood beside him. Juliet, much to her chagrin and to everyone else's amusement, was stood behind Ruth and barely visible. They all gave their best regal expressions as the photographer took a number of shots.
The photographer then instructed everyone to step away except the royal succession. The king took Emmy to hold his granddaughter and Ruth stood beside him. The three of them looked beautiful together.
"Hard to believe that Emmy's going to be queen one day," Catherine noted, standing beside Harry and looking on.
He nodded. "Ruth will be queen before that. Things are going to change even more than they already have."
"Hopefully not for a while. The king seems alright for now."
Harry hummed in agreement. They all knew not to be too optimistic. They had to be ready for the inevitable.
Catherine added, "I'm glad you and Ruth had a baby to be the next queen after her. I know I'm not part of the succession, but it seems like a rotten job. Let Emmy do it."
It did not seem real to Harry, sometimes, that his baby daughter was going to be queen one day. It felt impossible. Emmy was only six months old. But her whole life was set in stone in front of her. She did have the advantage that Ruth had not possessed, being born into her role. Ruth was still learning what it was to be next in line for the monarchy. That still seemed like madness to Harry, too. He knew she'd be a magnificent queen, but it just did not feel real. His Ruth as queen was too outlandish to contemplate.
But looking at her here, standing straight and somehow tall in her rich green gown and matching emerald and diamond tiara and flowing hair, her eyes flashing with strength and her pregnant body somehow enhancing her power, Harry could see it. She looked like a goddess, actually. The wisdom of Athena in her gray eyes, the regal motherhood of Hera in the curves of her body. Standing there, she transformed before Harry's very eyes from his Ruth to the Queen Louisa she become one day all too soon.
Emilia started to cry and the photoshoot had to stop. Ruth bent to pick up her daughter and hurry out of the room to feed her. It was past her dinnertime. And the spell was broken, bringing Harry back to reality. The reality for now, at least.