A letter from Alençon had arrived in Olite with much haste. The rider and horse both closer to death than living, the knight, who was clearly a young Frenchman with much to prove in life, bellowed out in a broken Spanish as he dragged his punished steed towards the palace of the Navarrese monarchs:

"E UN NIÑO!! E UN NIÑO!! INFANTA ANNA TUVO UN BEBE!! SE LLAMA JUAN!! SE LLAMA JUAN!!"

King Jean d'Albret burst into his wife's study with a smile from ear to ear. She noticed his childlike, unbecoming excitement immediately.

"Dear, what did you do?" Catherine asked.

"A healthy boy!" Jean blurted out.

Catherine's eyes glowed wide and she jumped up, enveloping her husband in excited embrace.

"We must go to Alençon at once!" Catherine said immediately. "Small little Anne, I'm so glad she did it. I was so worried! You knew I was!"

Jean patted her on the back, his glee now informed by reality.

"We can't. You know we can't. We'll have to wait until he's old enough to visit us, dear." He said, even though it hurt to admit.

"Oh, don't you fucking spoil this, Jean. What did she name him?" Catherine asked, as she let go of her man.

He, in turn, grew the most devious shit-eating grin he could.

"Jean."

Princess Anne has given birth to an apparently healthy boy, son of Navarre and Alençon, Jean de Valois. Second-in-line to the throne of Navarre, he will not live to see his 3rd birthday.