༒︎ PROLOGUE ༒︎

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September 3, 1685; Scotland, Stuart Dynasty

The night is cold and mostly quiet except for the soft pitter-pattering of the light rain that drizzles the castle and the small town on the outskirts of Inverness, Scotland. James II, the Duke of York and Albany, had just been crowned as King of England, Ireland, and Scotland just months after his brother died.

The king was known to be an incredibly remarkable man that has long patience, who maintains his composed stature — as he so proudly prides himself for — in council meetings and stressful situations.

But not at the moment, for he is pacing back and forth nervously in the hallway just outside his and his wife's, Queen Mary of Modena, bedroom where the aforementioned queen lies in their bed, sweating and panting and in great pain as her abnormally large belly was exposed. Her legs are bent and opened wide and a blanket was draped on her from her waist down to her ankles while an old woman is coaching her on how to breathe.

The queen is indeed in labour and a midwife along with her helpers were fussing about in the room. The struggle of the queen is felt by the whole castle and all of its occupants were sharing the same big anxiousness as a baby is expected at the very night. They queen has been in the room for the past 4 hours, yet the baby still refuses to come out.

King James II is no better than his servants, he is nervous and excited yet also terrified by the happenings at the very moment. Despite being a father of two daughters already, he's still scared. Would he be a good father? Will he be able to provide everything the baby needs? Would he be able to love and care for the baby as he did for Anne and Mary II? Oh God, did he even do well with their first two daughters?!

King James II took a deep breath to calm his nerves yet it only did little to help. After a moment, he resumed his pacing back and forth as another cry came from their room.

The wails of the queen echoed throughout the castle halls nearby and the king found himself praying to whatever god there is above to help his wife live through the night.

"Breathe, Your majesty, breathe.", the midwife cooed to the pained queen.

Queen Mary nodded and relaxed herself a bit before she heaved a deep breath and exhaled. She did this three times before the midwife told her to push once more.

The queen cried out one last time before the baby came out. The midwife smiled as she carried the newborn baby girl who was crying and wrapped her in a blanket. She then instructed one of her helpers to get the king outside as she handed the newborn baby to her mother.

The queen rocked her baby girl in her arms gently as she hums a lullaby which quietened the baby down. A soft look of adoration was on her face as she saw the newborn infant.

The king entered the room with the midwife's helper trailing behind him and what he saw melted his heart. He thought he'd be used to it by now, but how wrong he was. It's like the day his first two daughters were born all over again. Just like before. His wife, on the bed, all sweaty and exhausted and a tired smile adorning her slightly pale face, holding their little bundle of joy wrapped up in a blanket, the look of pure love and adoration on her face as she settled her gaze on the sleeping baby.

• 𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 || 𝑬𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒉 𝑶'𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒓 •Where stories live. Discover now