Been dying to do another Blackmore's Night one since I saw them in Concert in July, but never got around to it until now. Princess Mary/baby Elizabeth sister bonding to Fairie Queen. Enjoy!

Over on the hill
There grows a flower
Growing quicker still
More perfect by the hour
Deep within that flower
Is a tiny chair
All a-fringed with gold
The fairy queen sits there…

The cradle was large, ornate, made of gilded wood. In it lay England's newest royal child, the Princess Elizabeth. Her large dark eyes were open and she gazed serenely about the room, taking in her surroundings peaceably enough. She was content, content in the knowledge that, the moment she cried, she would be picked up and fussed over until she was happy again. All the faces that wove in and out of her consciousness above her cradle smiled down on her, doting upon her as she grew, grew stronger and healthier and more alert – more perfect – with every passing day.

Yes, Elizabeth, was happy. The most happy. Happy to be Queen of the nursery at Hatfield.

Yet, just now, there was no one doting upon her. Just now, the room around her was empty, for she was supposed to be napping. But she didn't feel like napping. Oh, she was tired, yes, but she wanted to be held. Held and rocked to sleep, instead of being left to doze off by herself in a quiet, darkened side part of the nursery.

Opening her mouth, she began to wail in protest.

It is in her breath
That the wind does blow
It is in her heart
As pure as winter snow
It is in her tears
Crystal raindrops fall
And within her years
That she is in us all…

Lady Mary was tidying away the Princess's newly-washed and mended linens in the opposite corner of the room when Elizabeth suddenly started crying. Alarmed, she looked up, hoping against hope that no one would blame her for waking the Princess. When no one came running to scold her, she turned back to her task, hoping the child would soon settle herself. She wanted nothing to do with Anne Boleyn's bastard brat. Let one of the other girls, who knew no better than to fawn over anyone the King chose to honour, see to her.

Yet, as Elizabeth continued crying and no one seemed to hear, Mary's patience wore thin. It seemed she would have to do something after all. Taking a deep breath to settle her nerves as much as to steel herself for what she was about to do, Mary laid aside her bundle of linens and walked over to the cradle.

She reached in and picked the child up, automatically breaking out into a soft lullaby; the same lullaby her mother and governess had almost always sung to her when she was little and in distress.

"Oh, Western wind, when wilt thou blow?
The small rain down can rain."

Elizabeth wailed once or twice more, as if to voice her displeasure at having been neglected for so long, but that was before her eyes flickered open. As soon as her eyes flickered open, they bore into Mary's, connecting with her so immediately that the entire atmosphere in the room seemed to shift. With a single moment, Mary's heart melted and she began to love her little sister.

Oh dark eyes
Help me see
Just one look
She is gone
Look on me
We are one
Fading with the setting sun…

Elizabeth sensed the shift in the room; the shift from strained tension to loving acceptance. Happy at last, she let her sobs reduce to sniffles and then cease altogether. She kicked gently in the older girl's arms, urging her to carry on rocking her and then let exhaustion take her. She drifted off to sleep, her small eyes falling shut as the song filled the whorls of her tiny ears. The last thing she carried with her was the sight of a pair of sapphire eyes gazing down at her with such love she was sure it would last forever.

Mary felt the child in her arms grow ever heavier as she was borne off on the curtain of sleep. She knew she should put her down and get on with her other tasks, yet she couldn't quite bring herself to do so. Having finally opened her heart to her little sister, she wanted to hold on to her for just that little bit longer. It felt so lovely having a child in her arms. She'd always wanted a family larger than just her and her mother and father. She'd always wanted to marry, have children. Right now, with Elizabeth snoring gently in her arms and no one else in the room, she could almost believe that this baby girl, her little sister, was her own little girl instead of her sister. That she was married, with a family, and that her husband would walk in on her at any second.

"Lady Mary!" Lady Bryan's sharp voice broke into her daydream, startling both her and Elizabeth, who jolted awake, crying lustily. "What are you doing with the Princess Elizabeth? Give her to me!"

Mary did so, handing the howling child over to her governess, who did, she noted with some satisfaction, look slightly ashamed at having woken her sleeping charge.

"She had been left alone," she said with quiet dignity. "She wanted nothing more than to be held and sung to, yet she had been left alone."

With that, she walked away to return to her former, abandoned task, leaving Lady Bryan with the considerable task of having to soothe a fractious Elizabeth, all the while knowing that the Princess was no longer just Anne Boleyn's daughter. She was a true Tudor; Mary's true little sister.

And because of that, Mary knew, she would always adore her.

As the willow bows
To her majesty
All the forest flowers
Love her mystery
Who would not admire
Who does not adore
Who does not desire
Who wishes to see more?