Tu Es Ma Lumière

195 - The Missing Child

Side Notes - Inspired by the Medici s3 scene between Giulio and Lorenzo when Lorenzo accepts him.

                    - My keyboard is kinda messing up right now, so if a word isn't complete or something doesn't look right, that's why. I tried to fix it as much as I could, but I don't know if I caught all of it or not.

                     - This is kinda inspired by a future piece I have in the future coming up, The Queen of Nine Countries. When I finish it up and post it, you'll see some nods here and there.

                      - I don't know if the time frame makes complete sense, but I tried my best, 'cause I'm quite inspired right now and didn't want it to go to waste thinking of specifics.

/

The flash of bright blonde curls that would always sparkle so marvellously in the sunlight.

Brilliant blue eyes that would sparkle with mischief as he'd whisper things into her ear, that would glow with anger whenever a noble spoke nonsense or out of turn, that would gleam with delight whenever he'd been victorious on the battlefield or in the counting house.

The beautiful beam that would light up his entire face as his perfect lips would stretch through one side of his face to the other whenever she told him some marvellous news, whenever this children would light up with recognition, whenever he saw a basic act of kindness to one others didn't even seen.

The beauty, the elegance, the grace, of just him.

She sees him sometimes, in the bright blue eyes of their sons. In the grin of their daughters. In the corner of the room in the furthest corner of her eye. The ghost of him in her memories, so free and young and beautiful, with the power of a lion and the strength of a King. She sees him in her memories, when they were young and free with only the weight of flowers on their heads. She sees his tears when their children were born, she hears his laugh when their children humoured him. But it's all an echo of once was.

It's all different now, everything is different. She has the warmth of small hands to keep her heart from the ice, but what was once a beautiful, toasty fire is now lukewarm luridness with a tinge of sorrow and regret in the air.

She watches her eldest children play in the courtyard of English Court. The youngest set of twins, the ones with her hair and his eyes, the boys were swinging wooden swords around and yelping out battle cries. The second to were pushing a ball back and forth with their elder sister, the ones with his hair and her eyes. The third eldest, his complete clone, sat with his nose pressed into the pages of a book. The eldest girl sat near him, fretting with her gown and her hair and her jewels. She tries to grow up too fast, she always has done. But like it or not, she is who her mother was before the wedding bells rung. She aches to play in the muddy meadows, she wishes to roll in the dewy grass. Her eldest child of all, he plays with the twin boys, a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye. 

"Imperial Majesty." a voice startles her. She inhales deeply, turning around. Blue and silver blooms around her like a rose in the summer months.

"Piero," she breathes, flicking her hair out of her eyes. It's her new husbands' secretary, the Godfather of their second child together. "what is it?" she asks.

"Apologies, but there's issue in your study that must be seen to." he says.

"Oh?" the Empress asks. "What such?"

"It involves your Godson, Mary." Sir Piero de Lucrezia chooses now to drop the pretence of royalty and superiority, for his stance changes into one more relaxes when the most powerful woman in the world behaves in a way that is repulsive of her station.