WHO: Lucy Lyon → Catherine de' Medici WHEN: Afternoon of November 24 WHERE: The kitchen of her house SUMMARY: While putting away groceries, Lucy is given a disappointing memory from shortly after Catherine gave birth to Francis. WARNINGS: None, just mistresses and bad husbands
Catherine had been looking forward to this day longer than she perhaps realized. After years of not producing a viable pregnancy -- with the exception of the baby girl, though she tried not to think too long on that particular exception -- she had not only had Henry's child, but she had given him an heir. Francis may have come after the birth of his bastard brother, but he had come nonetheless and she was now no longer just the Queen of France, but the Queen of France that had secured the House of Valois. Her return to court was to be a triumphant one, one in which she knew she would get the attention she ought to have been getting all along, not only from her people, but from her husband.
Her ladies had helped her into one of her more fine gowns, the corset leaving little room for her to breathe as they attempted to make her figure look like that of nine months ago. Her hair had been twisted up as elaborately as ever, so different than how she'd let it fall around her shoulders and back while separated from the rest of the castle in the time since Francis's birth. Her crown was placed on her head and she was ready, confident that she had never looked better.
With her ladies following behind, Catherine made her way from her quarters through the castle. The occasional wandering courtier or servant paused to bow in her wake, but it wasn't them that she wanted to see. Knowing just where to find Henry thanks to one of her ladies reporting back just before they left her chambers, she led the way to the grounds.
Rather than finding her husband waiting to greet her with open arms, Catherine instead found that his arms were full of Diane. His mistress was laughing at something Henry had said -- likely something that wasn't actually funny at all, Catherine thought irritably -- and neither showed any notice of her advancement until she stopped only feet away.
"Ah, Catherine." Henry smiled, though he didn't move away from Diane. "You've finally decided to leave your rooms. I wasn't sure we'd see the day."
Catherine smiled as pleasantly despite her rising temper, a skill she had learned as a child and had honed in her recent years at court. What she wanted to say was that she had been recovering from a difficult stretch of months as she grew his heir within him. What she wanted to say was that he could have, as her king and husband, visited her at any time during her isolation. What she wanted to say was that neither Diane or her son had any place at court now that she had fulfilled her promise to him. But she said none of it. Instead, she simply bowed into a curtsey. "My King."
The moment had passed, though. Henry's attentions had gone back to Diane, who was smiling once more at something else the king had said. Catherine hadn't heard it, the disappointment and anger rising within her so distracting that everything else fell away. She forced herself to take one breath, then fell into another bow, this one as unnoticed as the first, and spun to return to the castle and her son.
Lucy stumbled, nearly dropping the carton of orange juice that she had been in the process of putting away in the refrigerator when the memory of Catherine's past had taken over. She paused, her eyes closing as she adjusted to the wave of emotions that washed over her. They weren't new. This wasn't the first time that she'd dreamed of disappointment and pain thanks to how King Henry treated his wife and she doubted that it would be the last. It seemed unfair that she kept being visited by these older memories, when she had seen others that had led straight to Henry's death. She had felt Catherine's pain then, too -- loss of her great love and knowing that they had never gotten the chance to reach their potential thanks to decisions they had made when younger. Seeing those moments of their youth, before their children were grown and Mary, Queen of Scots, had entered their lives, and watching the events play out that would lead to that eventual sorrow… it wasn't easy.
This particular moment, though, was especially hard. Lucy looked back toward the kitchen table, where Yuri was sleeping quietly in the comfort of his carrier. They had braved Small Business Saturday for a bit of shopping and then picked up groceries to make it through the next few days and that had been more than enough excitement for the two-month old. As was so often the case, Lucy felt her heart squeeze as she peered at her son. She loved him so much, in an all encompassing way that was familiar. It was just how Catherine felt about her own children.
Lucy knew her circumstances were different than Catherine's. She was not royalty, for starters; her family might have had a de' Medici sort of fortune that they were sitting on, but she wasn't loud about it and she certainly didn't wear jewel encrusted crowns as casual wear. Her upbringing had been a happy one and she hadn't been forced into a marriage; on the contrary, she'd had no intention on a relationship at all, even after finding out about her pregnancy, and had instead fallen in love with Mikhail in her own time, completely by choice. She didn't doubt his devotion to her or their son.
And yet, Catherine's sadness clung to her, a tear she hadn't been expecting falling to her cheek as she blinked rapidly. It seemed to bring Lucy back to the present, sparking her to shake her head and brush that tear away. She turned back to the fridge, the orange juice tucked next to the water pitcher. If only the heaviness that came to rest on her shoulders was as easy to put away.