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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:
