#felipaed.

Mary was weary, travel and events doing their part to exhaust her, but there was little in the world that could bring her as much joy as her children did. As soon as they had been born, they had been a saving grace to her, and she had endeavored to do what she could to show them tenderness, to honor what she had seen in her own mother. Goodness and softness, but strength too.

Granted, there was no denying that her children each had their own troubles, and it would be a lie to say that Mary found no disappoint in that. But she had no heart to see them hurt, and turned her eyes from any indiscretions so long as no one was being hurt.

She sat with a book in her lap, attempting to settle her mind after a long day, when Philip came to her rooms. The news she bore was painful, but it would be best to get it out of the way, and she knew that she would be a better messenger for it than her husband, indulgent as she was with their feelings.

Moments spent with the principe had been few and far between in the previous weeks, and most recently he had been gone from court altogether. Elisabeth had only just learned why that was the case, the grand reception revealing the arrival of the Spanish king and queen a welcome surprise as opposed to the rumours of illness and danger which had previously swirled.