In Which Henry Does Believe

January 17, 1196

"Enough of a nap for you already, lad?" Henry chuckled as his week-old son squirmed in Dea's arms. The boy had his own green eyes, that was apparent already, though Henry had rather hoped for Dea's violet. No matter, though; no color of eye could have made the babe any less precious. "Of course. Why rest when there's work to be done and a world to be seen? Never an idle moment, just like your mother."

Dea's eyes narrowed, but the line of her lips was more admitting than annoyed. "He'd better take his idle moments while he can; there won't be many once he's king."

"A lucky thing that that won't be for many years yet." Not if Dea's health kept up its spotless record! Even the pregnancy hadn't taken much of a toll on her, at least from what Henry could have noticed--and he liked to think he'd made a point to at least try to notice. Henry himself had been somewhat sickly as a child, but adolescence had improved matters and so far, adulthood had been no trouble in that regard. Barring any unforeseen tragedies, they had a good many years together ahead of them.

With any luck, Sparron--and any future siblings who might follow--would enjoy the same strength of body.

"I should hope you're about that! I rather like living. Besides, childhood ought to be spent learning and playing and exploring--not picking apart lengthy legal documents with the lords."

"Not that you don't love yourself a nice legal document," Henry teased with a wink.

Dea smirked. Since birthing Sparron, she'd tended to the kingdom's affairs on an emergency-only basis, trusting the lords with the running of their own shires and Willott with the day-to-day workings of the castle. That arrangement would cease at the end of the month, as Dea would both need and want to resume her duties by then. Henry had every confidence in Dea's ability to balance being queen with being a mother, but it would take her some time to find the balancing method that worked for her.

Until then, Henry had no qualms about being the primary caregiver.

Newborn Sparron was sweet enough to make that job desirable, yet difficult enough to keep a father on his toes.

"I suspect he'll miss you when you return to your documents--but as a future king himself, he'll understand."

"He'll have to." Dea raised the baby to her face and kissed him on the head. "Mama has a lot of people to take care of--but I think he'll know that he's her favorite."

"Papa will be sure to reassure him of that." Henry landed a tickle on Sparron's belly, then grinned at Dea.

"Well, lass--I do believe we've made this kingdom of yours a rather fine crown prince."

No trace of doubt in her eyes, his wife nodded. "Indeed, we have."

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