Of Swords And Horses (The Ostler's Boy Book 2)

Chapter Eighteen

In total, I'm told, Her Majesty pushed for twenty hours. It's no surprise that when you finally made your debut, she was exhausted. The whole ordeal was chaotic, but worth it. You were born in this very room.

His Majesty kept me, right there, by the fireplace, the entire time. Which, I was secretly thankful for, but also troubled by. Instead of holding my Queen's hand as I would have liked, I was forced to sit a ways away and listen to her cries over crackling wood. It was a strange event, to be both relieved I had somehow made it home in time to see your birth, but also tortured by my inability to do it right. I did try to be as close to Eliza as I could be, ...But I was planning tactics and... not your father.

When you crowned, both the King and I stood, flocking to Her Majesty's bedside. He seemed to come to life, and though the pause in his desire to work was briefly lived, I will say, I had no question that the King loved you as much as I did, and from the very start. I doubt that he expected to be so... moved by the experience. Or maybe he had been scared he wouldn't be? Maybe he threw himself into maps and conquests, to mask the worry before it was confirmed? Whatever the case, I think we were both shocked to find him so eager to hold you, as well.

Eliza was in and out of consciousness, and the King was... very proud of you and your golden head of hair. He flaunted you about the room and everybody cheered for him and his little twin. You had your father's eyes; cold, icy, blue... His everything, really. Even his grouchy sort of demeanor; you came out frowning.

And I... I had peace.

You were beautiful, but in a way that, for me, verified the existence of a God. Of God, period. It was debilitating how something so small could be the catalyst for so many larger things. But you? You weren't just a weeping infant in her father's arms; a trophy on display... You were my salvation.

With you as you came, blonde, fair skinned and not mine, you granted me everything I could ever have wanted just by being so. I could remain where I was. Eliza could remain where she was. His Majesty would not seek to murder us, and I would–

"Would you like to hold her?" he asked me.

"I..." I slowed, very nervously. A moment before, a hundred ideas of how I could effectively escape this very room with both your mother and you in tow had been my only thoughts. One of which consisted of regicide. Given, it took me effort to reset myself and realize the courtesy. "...I think Eliza should like to, before I make an attempt?"

The King narrowed his eyes, but only to correct me. "Yes, Her Majesty," he said. He moved you towards the bed, placing his hand on her arm to wake her up. "Eliza, love," he sang softly. "She's here. Our Princess is here."

She roused, long enough to manage a weak smile and reach for you.

It was a moment of candor, between two people who... on some level still loved each other, and I should not have been so jealous. And so soon after I had let the height in which my heart was soaring at sight of you, to allow my mouth to say the Queen's Christian name to anyone, let alone the King, but.