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January 29, 1199
"Then it's all settled: I'll write to King Oswald and tell him the truth, and I'll have the lords sign the letter as well. If he doubts anyone's sincerity, then he can verify with either my Uncle Farilon or Searle Minara."
"And the people here?" Anna asked, not quite letting herself smile but hopeful nonetheless. She'd been in Carvallon for many years now, but from how comparatively... uneventful other nations seemed to be, Dea doubted a century was long enough to forget life in Naroni.
"Well, since you've arrived, we've made no effort to make it a secret, so I'm sure the news is already spreading via the servants of the ruling households. I'll make the official announcement after I get word of you having crossed the border, so no one suspects that you're somehow forcing my compliance." Dea didn't think anyone with much of a platform would, but it was safer to cover any bases she could. "Really, I don't believe that most of the people care so much about who sits on the throne than they do what that person does with that power. They'll be surprised, but no one will be itching to go to war over it."
"If anything, some should appreciate it for the inspirational value--taking control of one's destiny and whatnot," Henry added. He ought to have been a bard, really, always seeing all these subtextual details that eluded literal minds like Dea's entirely. He did write in his spare time, though he'd been stingy about how much he'd let her read.
"I hope you're right. The Carvalli people probably won't care much either, after a time. The nobility might take some offense, but we do have Devidra on our side, and they all know better than to argue with her."
At Anna's side, Adrius nodded in agreement. "She's quite the force of nature, my mother--rather like yourself, your majesty, if you don't mind me saying. Though, to your credit, you have considerably more tact."
"When it suits me, at least." Dea smirked. Politeness had never been a consideration when her father had been involved, for instance, but he hadn't much deserved it. "If you treat me well, I'll treat you well in turn."
"And you've treated us much better about this whole thing than Mona and I would have dared hope in the early years of all this." Anna lifted her skirts in a light curtsy while Adrius bowed his head; Dea and Henry did the same in turn. "Carvallon will not forget your understanding."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 6, 1198
"Aunt Mona." However Dea might have felt about her aunt--she'd been a child of five when Mona had been sent away, so if she didn't have enough memories of her to form an opinion, then Lord knew Henry had no cause to guess it--she paid her a familial kiss on the cheek as opposed to a more stately greeting. For her fellow queen, however, a stately mutual bow was merited. "Your majesty."
"Your majesty," Queen Anna replied in kind as Henry edged around the women to the hearth-facing bench. On Dea's request, Henry had greeted the women himself and led them to the study. Willott had been given the day off; he was more Dea's man than Roderick's now, as he'd been more Roderick's than Ietrin's, but the absurdity of the situation may have been too much for a loyal steward serving his third generation of monarchs to handle. Better to leave the greeting to the shiny new prince consort.
"Please, have a seat, both of you." Dea gestured to the other bench. She waited for her guests to seat themselves, then made her way to her desk from behind Henry, fingers grazing his shoulder as she brushed by. He smiled. He could keep up with political talk about as well as he was expected to, but it wasn't really his realm. All he could bring to this meeting was support.
But, given the women's agreeable manner and Dea's own level-headed views of the issue at hand, that would not be so difficult--or unpleasant--a task. "I think it goes without saying that no matter what anyone thinks, congratulations are in order to the two of you for having fooled the world for so long."
Anna replied with a shy smile. Mona, though, wasn't all that eager to focus on it, her eyes falling to the children on the floor. "Sparron and Jedaline, I take it?"
"My babies," Dea confirmed with a fond grin their way. "Say hello to Auntie Mona and Queen Anna."
Sparron and Jedaline relented a couple of mumbled greetings, then resumed their more interesting game. They were both rather like their mother, Henry thought: focused, independent, full of potential. Every minute he spent with them was all the more reason to give them the golden childhood that Dea's own father had denied her. A cordial first exposure to the workings of royals would do them well.
"Yes, that's... well, that's part of why we decided it was time to end this. The children. Anna's children deserved to know their mother's name, and how brave she was to go along with my scheme. And my children... uh, that is, if you think it appropriate..."
"They will have their place in the line of succession," Dea assured her aunt. "While Grandfather would have been furious about all of this, I don't believe he was the sort to cast aside a blood tie."
Henry had never met King Roderick. But, from what Dea had told him, that would have been rather close to home for the old king. "Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but King Roderick did know what it was to be denied his place in line. He may not have been the kindest or cleverest of men, but I doubt that was a fate he would have wished on anyone."
"Yes--and if nothing else, he didn't care for disruptions in order. I won't pretend to agree with more of Grandfather's politics than I do, but to ensure that his grandchildren have their place in succession--however unlikely it is that they'll ever inherit--is a rare posthumous gift I can give him."
"But would he have forgiven me?"
A question only a dead man could answer. And while Henry knew--thought he knew, at least--what he himself would do as a father, he couldn't answer for a dead man he'd never met.
But Dea had known her grandfather.
And by now, Henry knew Dea well enough to trust her judgment.
"Eventually."
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 4, 1196
"My God, laddie, you're getting heavier by the day!" Henry hoisted a giggling Sparron off the ground with mock-difficulty and bounced him about. "I don't think we ought to have let you have that pastry after all."
Dea pulled herself off the blanket with a shake of her head. It was little Sparron's first picnic. It would have been borderline criminal to deny him of a pastry. "I think half of it is his hair. Perhaps we ought to trim it."
"Never! He has long, luscious locks, just like his father--and we're going to keep them that way."
"For now, maybe--but that will be up to him when he's older." Dea indulged Henry with a wink, then reached forth and tickled Sparron under the neck. His hair flopped about with splendor amidst the squirms and laughs. "I refuse to be the sort of mother who insists on dictating her children's hairstyles."
It was a large part of being a queen, she'd learned--knowing what had to be legislated and what ought to be left to the people. Being a mother was much more difficult, but there was no lack of overlap between the two roles' basic principles.
"Fair enough--but all hair-cutting proposals must be approved by the father." Henry pulled Sparron to his shoulder and kissed the boy's forehead before flashing Dea a smile. She'd yet to figure out just how he managed to keep his teeth so white. "That's how it works, after all. The queen rules the land while the prince consort squawks at castle servants and redecorates rooms a thousand times and frets over little princelings' looks."
"You haven't redecorated a room since you got here."
"Ah, lass--I never said I was a good prince consort."
"You're good enough where it counts." Only because she was sure Sparron couldn't see at that angle, Dea sidled up to her husband and placed a hand to his backside. Maybe it was the early fall, maybe it was the kingdom's current prosperity, maybe it was that Sparron wouldn't fairly have claim to the title of 'baby' much longer, but she'd been feeling rather... restless of late.
A devilish gleam in Henry's eye proved the urge mutual. "The most important consort duty of all."
"I believe this little princeling will be needing a nap when we get home." With perfect accidental timing, Sparron yawned. "And I don't have any pressing royal duties to tend to today."
"Well--then it seems that I do." Henry leaned in, handing her their son as a pretext, but nipping her ear as they drew close enough. "Perhaps we ought to make a wee princess."
"Or another prince; I have no objections to either." Odd to think that already, she had no objections to the idea at all. Sparron was still young yet, after all.
But being a mother and being a queen were not so unlike. Perhaps added effort in one role would also pay off in the other.
"What do you think, Sparron? Is the Crown Prince of Naroni ready to be a big brother?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
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."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 27, 1195
Her eyes were shut and her husband snored beside her, his arm draped over the bulge of their child--but Dea couldn't sleep. She wasn't quite sure why. She'd risen early and spent much of her day in conference, and hadn't turned in until late. 'Late' had been some time ago now. Henry had been snoring away for hours now, long enough for Dea to confirm that yes, even his snores had a hint of a Scottish accent. By now, she was tired enough that she didn't care exactly how a snore could sound Scottish, but had no trouble accepting the fact that it could.
Even that level of fatigue did not help in her pursuit of sleep.
Henry let out a particularly robust snore and rolled back toward his side of the bed, his arm leaving Dea's stomach and pulling the covers along with it. The baby nudged a foot against the wall of her womb--and to think, the kid had been so restful all day!
That about did it. Dea sat up and heaved herself off of the bed. She didn't feel much like getting a head-start on anything she'd earmarked for the morning, but some pacing about the room couldn't have been the worst idea just then.
At nearly full term, the walk from her study to the dining hall was enough to make her eyes droop.
Nearly full term. How had that happened so quickly? She hadn't thought she'd find so agreeable a match as Henry so quickly after she'd started her search, nor had she thought she'd be pregnant only a month or so after her wedding. An heir had been the motivation for her marriage, but heirs could take time; she supposed she'd expected to have to be patient.
Maybe her acceptance of that fact had relaxed her, allowed her to conceive more quickly? Still, she wasn't relaxed now. Only a few more weeks until she was a mother, and she'd scarcely had time to prepare. She wasn't ready.
But was anyone, really? Perhaps her mother had been, her gentle and loving mother who from all accounts had been maternal since meeting her first cloth doll? Or perhaps not--it had been her father's children she'd had to brace herself for, after all. But Dea couldn't guess that. She hadn't known her mother before she'd become her mother.
She'd known her Uncle Sparron before he'd become a father. He'd been a nervous wreck, even for him, until the day Prior had been born. And then some odd days after. So many years of thinking a child would never come, and then... Prior. Adorable, miraculous Prior. Uncle Sparron had spent several months muttering in amazement that such a tiny baby could survive his large, clumsy hands. Uncle Sparron, who would end up becoming the best father out of all the men Dea knew.
Uncle Sparron might have been better-prepared for fatherhood than he'd thought, though.
He'd been the closest thing to a father Dea had ever had.
The baby kicked again--with such careless motion that it had to have been a boy.
A yawn finally creeping up her throat, Dea smiled to herself and calmed the baby with a firm rub. "Your name is Sparron."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 11, 1195
Dea settled onto her bed for an afternoon respite, though she probably would have taken the time to catch up on some paperwork if Willott hadn't told her that her husband had returned. Her father had of course been the worst example of how to act in a marriage she'd ever known, but her grandfather--for all he'd had his failings as a monarch--had maintained a happy, well-nourished relationship with her step-grandmother throughout their time together.
Dea had not yet been married long enough to balance being a good queen and a good spouse--if such a balance were even possible. "I'm sorry I haven't seen you all day."
"It's quite all right, lass. I don't know any more about balancing a budget than the average fool, but I understand that it has to be done."
"Like any other royal duty." Dea sighed. "You know, you're always welcome to sit on my meetings with the lords if you like."
"Good to hear you trust me, but I'd be worse than useless there, I'm afraid--and honestly, not all that interested, though I mean that in the most flattering way possible." Henry winked, though she couldn't quite claim to feel all the flattery he'd meant. Even with her limited free time, she'd come to learn that her new husband took an unstructured, heart-driven approach to life, more in keeping with that of a bard or mummer than a prince consort--and nothing like Dea's own focused and managerial methods. She thought him a fine man, a kind man, a handsome man... and she was a queen! And not a bad one! Surely she deserved a fine man, a kind man, a handsome man?
And yet, some nagging part of her couldn't help but dread his preference for someone more spontaneous, more affectionate. Someone like Gennie or Ella.
"I mean to say: I'm glad you enjoy the queenly necessities, and the kingdom ought to be thankful for it, and I'm willing to support you in any way possible. But I'd rather take that supporting role for myself and leave the real work for you--both for the people's sake, and yours and mine."
"I suppose that's the most flattering way of saying it."
"Give it time, lass. I'll find a more flattering way to flatter you yet." He edged himself toward the center of the bed and laced his arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry yourself about keeping me occupied; I'm a grown man and can entertain myself. I actually got in quite a long ride today, just enjoying the first nice spring day here. Found myself sitting by a pretty little riverbank for a good hour or so, just me and the horse and the lute."
"I didn't know you played the lute."
"There's a lot we don't yet know about each other, but we're both young, healthy people; no reason why we shouldn't have plenty of time to learn more." He kissed her cheek, his lips the first of this 'first nice spring day' she'd seen in her primarily indoor week. "Next time you have a free morning, let me know. I think you'd like this spot I found."
She suspected she would--and, with most of her time spent inside the castle, surely some exploration of her own kingdom couldn't have been the worst idea. "Perhaps we could pack a lunch. It's been years since I last had a picnic."
"Is that so?"
Dea nodded. A sunset smile on his mouth, Henry nestled his forehead to hers. "Well, then let me promise you it won't be years between this one and the next."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 23, 1195
It was only a couple of hours before Dea would leave the castle to attend her uncle's funeral. Everyone in the kingdom knew that the funeral was today, as the death of the queen's uncle, the former queen consort's half-brother--the baron's son, and the son of the beloved late Princess Holladrin of Dovia--could not possibly have escaped the notice of the public, especially when it was such a sudden death at such a young age. And even if someone hadn't known... well, it was morning, and early enough in the morning that many had yet to wake. On this day, at this hour, she had not expected a knock on her study door.
"Willott?" Even when her grandfather had been king, she'd known the steward's knock like she knew her own voice.
"My apologies, your majesty. I realize this is bad timing, but your betrothed has arrived."
Dea's spine jerked. In light of her Uncle Farilon's accident, it had slipped her mind completely that he was to arrive so soon. "Oh! Ah, yes, of course."
"Shall I put him up at the nearest inn until tomorrow, or...?"
"No, that won't be necessary. He couldn't have predicted any of this." Who could have? Her Uncle Farilon had been a healthy man of twenty-four! Dea rose from her desk chair and braced herself. "Bring him in."
Willott opened the door and entered, followed by a dark-haired, bearded young man in a winter coat. The coat wasn't anything special, but she found little disappointment in the man who wore it--handsome and casually regal, a grim look of sympathy befitting the news Willott had surely just told him, but not without a playful twinkle in his eye as he first spotted her. Dea mustered up all the queenly composure she could; she was used to many things, but such direct male attention was not one of them.
"Her Royal Majesty, Queen Medea the First of Naroni. Your majesty, may I present Henry of Stirling, son of David of Scotland, Earl of Huntingdon."
"My lord," Dea greeted the man for lack of a better title as he stepped forward. His father was heir presumptive to the Scottish throne (a fact that left a vile fog in Dea's mind, as his brother the king did have a young daughter) but Henry himself was excluded from succession as a natural son. But he was well-connected, available, and--though she hadn't known it prior to his arrival--quite attractive. As far as prince consorts went, she could have found a worse candidate.
"Your majesty." He took to one knee and kissed her hand. The softness of his fingers was matched only by that of his lips. "My sincerest condolences to you and your family."
"Your condolences are appreciated, and I see no need to keep to the formality of 'majesties'. You may rise." He did, though she kept hold of his hand. It may not have a been queenly or maidenly gesture, but there was something in his skin that made her stronger, more prepared for the trials of the day. She did not want to let go. "Welcome to my country."
"Thank you. If it isn't too bold, I was told that the Queen of Naroni was even more brilliant than she was beautiful; having now laid eyes on you, I must surmise you to be the pinnacle of brilliance."
"It isn't too bold, though I daresay poetic compliments are wasted on someone so literal-minded as myself."
"Ah, lass--there is no such thing as a wasted compliment, so long as it comes from the heart as well as the lips."
Dea felt her cheeks warm. Not once in her life had anyone called her 'lass', but there was a charming duality in his pretty sentiments and the occasional bit of Scottish slang.
Behind Henry, Willott cleared his throat. "Shall I leave the two of you in peace, your majesty?"
"If you so prefer." If she were honest with herself, Dea had nearly forgotten that the steward was there. "Take the rest of the day, Willott. Go home to your wife and children."
Willott bowed, then turned and left. At least, that's what Dea figured he must have done after she'd dismissed him.
"I must apologize for my poor timing. If you would prefer I seek lodging elsewhere while you mourn, I understand."
"That won't be necessary. Our official mourning ends with the funeral here; the Dovians have long believed that any soul worth mourning would much prefer for their loved ones to focus on life."
That said, the funeral had not yet occurred. "Though, I must ask that you remain here while I attend the funeral, and warn you that I may overnight at my grandfather's."
"Of course. I should hate to start our acquaintance by imposing myself in your family's time of grief."
And that was good of him--but, so to would Dea hate to start their acquaintance by abandoning him for the day in a strange castle, even if she told the servants to cater to his every whim. "Then you'll be pleased to know that our acquaintance will instead begin with a tour of my home--unless you'd rather rest first, of course."
Henry smiled. "There'll be plenty of time for resting when you're away, lass. No sense in not getting my fill of you while I can."
NEXT CHAPTER:
