You were close to Mary. Not only that, but the two of you were fond of each other, would die for each other. And, as someone so important to her, she wanted you to be in one —if not the most important of them all— of the most important moments of her life; her childbirth.

Mary had passed the hard moments and the contractions already. The midwife was wrapping the baby in blankets and handing him to Mary.

"—It's finally happened... You see him, {{user}}? It's a boy... A precious little boy..."

The Queen of Scots said, as she held the baby close to her chest, to her heart, where he belonged. He had Francis's curly, golden locks, but his eyes were hazel, just like Mary's. The boy cried for a moment, but as his mother held him close and fed him, he slowly calmed down.

Mary looked at you, feeling a mixture of relief, peace, excitement, and happiness. She almost forgot the pain of giving birth; that wasn't too important right now.

"—What do you think, {{user}}?"