AN: I looked up dates, and ages of the children for this chapter, as well as details of Louis (Henry and Catherine's fourth child who died aged 20 months), and figured out the conception month for Margot, wanting to get the historical details right on that part at least! I have no idea if 1552 really was a hot summer, I just made that part up! :) Thank you SO MUCH for the lovely reviews! I'm still pinching myself that you guys like what I write! It means so much to me to read your encouraging words. :)

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Chapter 12

"You're sure?" The King of France held his wife's hand as she lifted her skirts slightly to climb the steps of the hastily summoned carriage. "You wouldn't rather stay closer to the castle in case there is news?"

Catherine sighed, pausing to look her husband in the eyes before allowing him to help her up. She saw nothing to fear, for the first time in a very long time. There seemed to be no veil of bitterness or resentment, nothing egotistical or self-serving, and his concern and love seemed genuine. She had heard it all before, of course. Perhaps it was the stress of the moment, or exhaustion? Perhaps her weakened state made her vulnerable to him, and being vulnerable prevented her from seeing clearly. Gazing into his soft expression and the gentle lines that time had worn into his skin, Catherine could feel her own anxiety pressing against her insides unbearably. And beyond that, she could see someone she loved with all her heart. Someone to lean on when things became unbearable. Someone who would not let her fall. She shook herself mentally. What was she thinking? Of course he would let her fall! He had done it time and time again, after all. Confusion threatened her already-fragile composure, and she lifted her chin, mask intact again for her own protection against such mercurial feelings.

"Henry, I shall go mad if I don't DO something, ANYTHING, towards finding my boys."

The King nodded his consent. "Then let me accompany you and your guards, and bring more guards with us. I will be as much use searching the west edge of the forest as I would be in the castle grounds or with Bash."

Catherine was grateful for his offer. She felt it a daunting task, searching the furthest parameters of the possible area that the young princes could have reached since their disappearance. She had her trusted guards with her, and she felt purposeful and useful, since nobody had yet been assigned that area. They HAD to find them. She did not even want to begin to think about the alternative. Having Henry's strength and authoritative presence felt settling and comforting to Catherine all of a sudden. She was glad of his company on the carriage ride too. Time alone, however brief, was not a good plan when fearing for the lives of those you love.

The royal couple sat opposite each other in silence as the carriage clattered along the stony road leading to the softer dirt roads skirting the forest. The guards hemmed them in, before and behind, on horseback. Catherine could not look at Henry. Her thoughts were consumed with her children. Even with the countryside flashing past the curtained opening above the carriage door, such was the speed they were travelling, she couldn't help feeling that she must peer out at all times. If she even blinked or looked away for a second, perhaps she would miss a little pair of heads, one fair and one dark, beyond this bush or that tree as they zipped by, hoping to be noticed and brought home.

But before she realized it, she had let her eyes glaze over the blurring countryside, and was staring beyond the haze of greens and browns into a vivid memory of another time – a much happier time – when she had watched those little heads, one dark and one fair, bob about playfully together.

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The summer of 1552 had been an exceptionally warm one. It had been, well, a season of goodwill in their marriage. Such seasons seemed to come and go, and Catherine always hoped they would be here to stay each time they came around. Henry would be loving and take a great deal of interest in the children. They would take outings as a family. Diane would spend extended periods of time in Paris, or other locations away from French Court. It seemed to Catherine as though Henry was hers again, even if she knew it wouldn't last. They would make love, not just to produce heirs, and they would be happy, for a short time.

That summer had been the first since little Louis had died that Catherine felt enough release from her grief to take joy in the world around her again. The previous summer it was all still too fresh in her mind, and she didn't even remember the weather that season – there was only anguish and loss on her first summer without her Louis.

Henry had taken the whole family on a seaside expedition. The carriages were horribly hot with the sun beating down on them, and the horses had to stop to be watered often. But the sea breeze at the particularly beautiful and tranquil sandy shore that Henry had brought them to, made up for it entirely. They had brought a whole army of servants, guards, nannies, and even chefs! A veritable fleet of carriages had accompanied the young family on their escapade.

Catherine remembered the salty breeze lifting away the tedious hours of heat and refreshing her sweaty skin. She remembered the moment she scandalously took off her shoes and stockings at the pleading of her 7- and 5-year-old daughters, and the delicious sensation of her toes sinking into warm dry sand, soft and silky as it pressed up between them. Her children's squeals and shrieks as they jumped and splashed next to her when little waves lapped over their toes, sucking the wet sand into a smooth coiling hollow under her feet as they left again. She recalled laughter, her own, joyfully released from her lungs and shaking her shoulders, as she listened to her husband's deep ringing laughter booming over the sweet high-pitched giggles of her little ones while they dodged and ducked to avoid being caught and tickled by their father.

She remembered the way the blonde curls bounced and danced wildly on the head of 8-year-old Francis, as he leapt for joy when Henry told the children that they would be staying for a few days. She could recall his look so clearly, his grown-up teeth partially in at the front, his blue eyes shining, as he asked his father, "Shall we really live in tents, Father?! Just like you do when you go to battle?!"

Her children had been her beacon in the storm that had begun almost two years before, when little Louis had become ill and died. How she clung to their laughter, their smiles, little kisses dropped on her cheeks and forehead when they had hugged her at bedtimes, bouquets of wildflowers picked from the fields by her little girls, the adorably square-ish wooden heart that Francis had carved for her when he was seven - to make her sad heart feel better, he had whispered as he pressed it into her hand one afternoon. Charles had been just a little baby, so there had been joy in seeing him grow since, and of course little Henry had been born a year later. Their family continued to grow, and she knew she had been so blessed to have more little princes. She missed her Louis so, no matter the precious ones who came after him.

In the mornings by the sea, she would watch her children play in the sand, or at her feet while she lay back in the grasses near the large tents. All manner of treasures were brought to her for her inspection and approval, sometimes every few minutes. Shells of all shapes and sizes, flowers and grasses, tiny crabs, and once Francis caught a lizard and nearly lost it up her skirts in his enthusiasm to show it to her! Catherine was free to caress the soft sleeping cheeks of her little boys as they napped after lunch in the afternoons, just watching them at peace and soaking in her love for them. After they woke, she would watch them play together. Henry, at 11 months old, was beginning to be interested in Charles's play. A typical two-year-old, he was noisy, exuberant, and fascinating to a baby on the verge of becoming a toddler. Their little heads, one fair, one dark, could often be seen bowed together over sticks, leaves, or a pile of sand, and Catherine thought these two tiny boys quite the most precious little children she had ever laid eyes on. Sometimes she caught herself imagining Louis with them. He would have been three-and-a-half, and she was sure he would have been a wonderful big brother to them, leading their games, and making them laugh! She smiled despite the tight sadness in her throat, at the thought that the noise level would have been so much greater with Louis as part of the little trio.

In the evenings for the King and Queen, when the children were tucked up in their beds in the large, airy tents shared with their nannies, the time was theirs. Catherine had her Henry and, being so far removed from the castle and their thrones and obligations, they were able to forget about being King and Queen to some degree. They could just be Henry and Catherine, a loving family unit with their young children, and a convenient staff catering to their every need while they enjoyed some time together. It had been, Catherine reminisced, quite blissful. She had wished she could freeze time in those moments, knowing how fleeting it would be. Henry had been quite… amorous, on that trip – a smile ghosted Catherine's lips as she remembered – and it was just a few weeks after their return that she learned she was pregnant with Margot.

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Henry had been watching his wife intently during the carriage ride to the edge of the forest. He was concerned for the safety of his sons, but overwhelmingly he was also concerned for his Catherine. He understood why she felt the need to come out and search with everyone else – he felt the same way himself. But she had been so emotionally burdened of late, and she seemed so anxious now, the tension evident in her body as she craned her neck to scrutinize the countryside speeding past the window. He knew she was looking for Charles and little Henry, and it pained him to see her so un-Catherine-like and worried.

After a minute or so, he noticed that although she hadn't moved, her body seemed to relax. Her gaze had softened and glazed over, no longer seeing the view outside the carriage, and he wondered what she was thinking about. She was so lost in thought that Henry was able to stare openly without being concerned that he would distract her. She was so lovely, with her beautiful face and the soft wisps of red-gold curls framing it gently. They fanned back slightly in the breeze and just that detail alone made Henry's heart feel tender towards her. He longed suddenly to touch the soft skin of her cheek, but he didn't want to break the relaxed trance she had fallen into. Curiosity kept him watching her. Her eyes held unhappiness somehow, but only here and there. Actually she seemed quite contented otherwise. Henry watched her lips curl into a seductive little smirk which, along with the sparkle in her honeyed eyes, made him temporarily forget to breathe. Unable to stand the suspense a moment longer, he steadied himself with a deep breath and asked her softly, "What are you thinking about?"

Catherine startled at the sound of Henry's voice, and coming back to the present, she answered, "The time you took us to the sea that hot summer. Do you remember the little ones? And the tents we stayed in?" She smiled fondly at the memory, settling back into it again for a moment.

"I do." His voice was gentle with the contentment that the memory evoked in him.

Henry remembered well. He remembered the happy times with his wife and children on the sandy beach. He remembered watching Catherine love their children so well, with all her heart, as she always did, and he watched the children love her equally in return. For Henry, his children admired him, looked up to him, wanted to please him. But Catherine – Catherine had their hearts, just as she had his now. He shook his head at his own foolishness. He loved her then, and he loved her now. What kind of self-focused idiot had he been between those times?! Shaking off his frustration, he settled into the memories of that time by the sea.

The heat, the happy laughter of the children, the salty breeze – wading with Francis and Elizabeth in the gloriously cold water, and lifting Claude over the waves when they came. He had enjoyed every moment of those days spent with his family.

But the nights… Oh he remembered the nights. The tent that he shared with Catherine was his longed-for sanctuary, where he could have her all to himself. Henry remembered that the nights were warm and uncomfortable. He could almost still feel the breeze rippling in gently through the raised flap of the tent that faced the open water, refreshing them for sleep. He didn't remember much about sleeping though, he thought with a smile. Henry settled back in his seat, enjoying the memories. Catherine against his side on those humid nights, uncaring of the heat, just wanting to be close to him. The intoxicating smell of her, a subtle blend that he would have had commissioned to be bottled as perfume if it were possible. Fragrant hints of grass and sea salt, something floral about her hair, and the entirely enticing scent of light perspiration and sunshine.

Henry remembered it all so vividly. The soft weighted fullness of her breast in his hand, the generous curve of her hip in the other. The smooth resistance of her supple skin beneath his fingertips. The way her sighs were more exquisite to his ears than the sound of the waves breaking gently on the shore nearby. How resplendent she looked with her skin glowing pearly in the moonlight, eyes like pools of liquid gold as she poured herself out for him. He remembered her beautiful hair, fanned out around her on the rumpled silk sheets. He remembered the magnificent sight of her leaning over him, the tips of her curls brushing his chest as nothing else mattered but their movements and the way it felt to be one.

A jolt of the carriage brought him back to his senses, and he worked to compose himself. This was not the time or place for such thoughts, intoxicating though they were. He stole a glance at his Queen sitting across from him, and his heart ached for her as he saw her looking down at her hands folded in her lap, her knuckles white, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Henry chastised himself for dwelling on memories of pleasure when their current situation was so desperate, and Catherine's heart so filled with anguish.

"Catherine?" Concern softening the tone of his voice, he leaned forward, gathering her small hands into his larger ones in her lap. Looking up into her face, he waited quietly for her response. Catherine closed her eyes momentarily, the gathered tears spilling over as she did so, and she retrieved one of her hands to wipe them away quickly before she spoke.

"I – I remembered that Charles and Henry were just tiny ones on that trip to the sea. They – they were just learning to play together." She gave a watery smile, remembering again. "They were such darlings, Henry, the way their little heads bent together as they played."

Henry waited, knowing there was more. His wife gave a shaky sigh.

"And then I remembered Louis… You know, it was the first time I was able to enjoy the children properly since…" Voice fading out, Catherine dropped her gaze to their joined hands for a moment in silence.

"I wondered what it would have been like if Louis had not died. I imagined him playing with Charles and Henry – what a trio they would have been!" She chuckled, but it sounded to Henry more like a sob. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze, trying to show her his love and encouragement.

"I – I felt sad at the time, missing Louis from their play… But I comforted myself thinking how fortunate we were to have two sons after him for France."

Catherine looked up suddenly at Henry, her eyes pleading and full of her fear and pain. When she spoke again, her voice sounded choking and hollow, something that broke Henry's heart.

"Now we might have none of them." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "If Charles and Henry are lost, never to return to us – Oh Henry! I don't know how I shall endure the pain of losing Louis again, twice over!"

Henry moved swiftly to sit in close by her side. His Catherine looked so broken, and he couldn't bear it. Her shoulders and chest shook in sharp jerks as she sobbed, and she did not even attempt to move her hands from her lap to wipe her tears. Letting go her hands, Henry twisted in his seat to face her, leaning towards her, his face etched with concern and sorrow for her. He brushed his fingers gently over her cheeks, smoothing her tears away. As her sobs subsided, she lifted her teary, shining eyes to his, wondering at his gentleness towards her. He kissed her then. He hadn't meant to, and if he'd had time to think about it, he would never have done it, because it seemed like poor timing. But he couldn't help himself. He wanted to kiss her pain away, to fix everything with his lips on hers.

Catherine hadn't expected Henry to kiss her. She expected to push him away, to feel angry or hurt at such an action when the boys were missing and her heart was exposed so. But his lips brushed hers with a tenderness that took her breath away. So much was conveyed in that kiss that she couldn't think straight. Brief but soft, his kiss told her he loved her, that he cared for her, that he wanted to help her to be happy again.

Breathing her in deeply, he broke the kiss, and leaned his forehead gently against hers. She didn't pull away, and he was grateful for that.

"Catherine," he whispered, "I will do everything I can to bring them back to you. I can't bear to see you in such pain."

She cupped his cheek, smiling at his genuine concern for her heart.

"Thank you, Henry."

The carriage slowed and halted. The Queen smoothed her face dry, and allowed Henry to help her down, out into the afternoon sunshine with the forest before them. Taking charge, Henry quickly organized and instructed guards, and they set off in groups to search. Nodding in the direction of the trees to their left, he gestured for Catherine's guards to start off and taking Catherine's hand in his, set off after them.