The Appalling Strangeness of the Mercy of God [M - Hannelorian x DuchessLivilla]

[Hannelorian]

In between the trial, sentencing and execution, Christian had paused for a moment to speak with his wife. It was here she could find herself an allowed intimate moment. "None too taxing at all, my love." At first Arabella would address his question and secondly note her personal gratitude. "I know you're doing this for me." Arabella spoke softly and with a smile, her hands moving forward to find his and pull herself closer to him. "I thank God every day, that you're so giving, so good to me." Arabella was both lying and at the same time, very much telling the truth. When Christian chose to be good, he was very good. "I cannot thank you enough for this kindness. She deserves her death, and you deserve nothing but love and support."

The Queen wrapped her arms around Christian, pulling him still closer to her, the look on her face was one of pure joy and gratitude. She was genuinely thankful to see the awful woman, the one who had it out for her from the very beginning finally be put to an end. "I'll take great joy at the look in her eyes as she prays for your pardon at the last minute. To see her denied... I'll relish it for the rest of my days." Arabella placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. Arabella felt love. In Christian's own twisted way, even if it was just for his own petty amusements, she felt seen.

--

Adelaide gave no confession to the Cardinal upon his arrival. To her mind she had nothing more to confess, she had admitted her sins, real and imagined, in open court and would say no more of it. After all, there would always be time to attend confession once her life was spared. Furthermore, there was the curious notion from Adelaide that she had, in fact, done nothing wrong.

Were her words about the Queen untrue? Not to her mind. The truth hurts, and Arabella simply had to hear it. And who better to tell her of her odious ways than the mistress of her very husband? Adelaide knew that Christian only loved her and Arabella was simply a conquest to show his power and provide him with a proper heir. Adelaide saw no reason to fear or fret, that is until the hour drew nearer and nearer.

Adelaide wore a grey damask robe overtop a crimson red kirtle, the color of martyrdom. She wore a mantle of ermine symbolising her desired future status as Queen of England and she wore a traditional English gable hood instead of the French hood which Adelaide vastly preferred. Even if she was not to die this day, Adelaide wished to make a statement, one akin to Anne Boleyn herself. Adelaide thought herself a Queen, but how wrong she would be.

The scaffold itself, a terrifying structure, and Adelaide now grew ever more nervous, even though she knew she had to trust in the King. She stumbled, her breath stolen from her. The headsman was a man she did not recognize. A proper swordsman. Would the King have hired someone just for the show of putting her to death. Now, Adelaide knew she was wrong... something here was wrong.

The Queen having seen the stumble and look of sudden terror upon the Duchess face laughed. In truth, she felt badly about this, but this is the reaction she knew her husband would prefer. One where she laughed at the woman's fears and mistakes as she was about to be lead to her death. What's more though, is she wanted Adelaide to know how much she was perceived to be enjoying this.

The robe was removed, revealing her crimson martyr-to-be attire, leading to a shocked gasp from those who had been granted permission to watch, largely the same contingent as those from the trial, but one could see Tower servants peaking out of windows that might afford them a view of the whole affair. Adelaide was shaking now as she was led up the steps and a blindfold placed over her eyes.

"Christian!" The Duchess called out, now completely falling apart, the fear had now overtaken her trust and this was beginning to feel far too real. "Will you not spare me?" Adelaide shouted out, the tears coming, her breath becoming more rapid.

[DuchessLivilla]

The King rolled his eyes when his mistress appeared, dressed as if from several centuries passed. "What a silly woman," he muttered, shaking his head at the display. "And to choose red too, who does she think she is...As if I did not know."

He made no move as his Mistress was lead up the steps and blind-folded, being invited and then shoved down to kneel, facing the crowd. He made no move when she cried out for him, instead he made a show of leaning over and kissing his wife's cheek before the Cardinal began to speak on sins and crimes and heavenly forgiveness and such.

Finally though, as if it had not occurred to him when really he was just delighting in the show of it all, the King stood, "Stop, stop this," he said, holding up a hand. He made his way down the stairs and through the crowd before climbing the stairs to the scaffold and undoing the blind-fold on his mistress's face.

He smiled kindly and wiped her tears with the linen fabric, "My Lady, do not cry so...I thought you trusted me? You have dressed as Anne Boleyn, I see. Then," he looked out at the crowd, his eyes meeting Arabella's, "Do as she did and die with good grace and dignity and no hysterics." He pointed to the Queen, "She is the Queen and shall always be as long as I breathe. I love only her. You are nothing more than a lying, thieving whore...May God have mercy on you."

Christian stepped back and nodded at the headsman, who, as befitted an expert, swung his sword and removed her head in one stroke as the Duchess stared at the Queen, spraying blood across the scaffold as he did. The body slumped sideways, her head rolling and coming to a stop at Christian's feet.

There was hushed silence as everyone stared at the blood spectacle, the spreading pool of blood that slowly reached the edge and began to drip off. Christian reached down and picked up the head by it's hair, holding it up like a war chief with his vanquished enemy.

Typically this was the executioner's job but who was to tell the King no?!

"And so dies an adulterous harlot, a thief and gossiping whore...Let that be a lesson to you all. Anyone who dares insult my wife again, or steal from her, in any way, shall suffer the same fate, without trial."

He dropped the head and walked down from the platform.

"Long live the Queen!" Someone took up the cry and soon everyone was calling it as he returned to his place.

"My love," he held out his hand to Arabella and helped her rise, "Shall we take a drive? I feel rather invigorated..."

[Hannelorian]

As Christian kissed her cheek and then stood, moving his way through the crowd Arabella showed no reaction, no movement at all. Her signature smile still on her face, she remained unconcerned. He then launched in his tirade against her, and to be fair, dressed as she was, as who she was, well... it only seemed fitting she commended her spirit to the Lord in the same way that Anne had some centuries before. As the King professed his love for his wife, the Queen, Arabella raised her hands over her heart endearingly. And then more strategically rested them upon her belly, an unneeded reminding to those watching her that she was with child, the future King.

It was only during this act that Arabella had finally put the pieces together. His words were telling, the notion of trust. Christian, to her own personal horror, had promised he would spare her, didn't he? He went to her in the Tower and played the picture perfect King, he would have promised Adelaide the moon if such were possible. This was a much sicker game than she had thought. Further, Arabella now knew that Christian had stolen the choker. Arabella's most prized jewelry was kept locked away. Christian was one of the precious few who knew how to find it, to get it easily.

He set this up, all of it. Arabella counted at least two purposes it served. 1, he was now bored of his plaything, and as he was restrained in what he could do to her, she had served her purpose. 2. In addition to it being a game for his amusement, this was his Christmas gift to Arabella. This was the show of faith, that he trusted her as much as he needed to. This was to make her happy. In a way, it was flattering. In another way it was absolute terror, horror that he would do something like this. But there were no secrets anymore, Arabella knew the man she had married. She knew what it meant to be Queen, and she had paid the price for that, and done so dearly.

The headsman struck Adelaide. In a single action her head had been removed and once again Arabella remained unflinching and smiling. She had seen so many beheadings none of this was shocking. The crueler part of Arabella had wished the usual executioner had been here, he had a record for needing two or three swings of the axe to accomplish the task. Arabella would have appreciated watching her suffer a bit more. When Christian had picked up Adelaide's head, a further shocking display, the Queen applauded. And in so doing, everyone else applauded with her. When the shouts of "Long live the Queen" were pouring out, Arabella nodded her head, and once more placed her hand over her heart.

Arabella took Christian's hand and rose, walking alongside him as they were taken to their carriage. "Well done my love. I would delighted to take a drive." Arabella felt in an odd way her heart flutter, that was the fear creeping back up. But no, she simply continued to smile. But there was one more thing... Arabella raised her hand and motioned toward Cardinal Black who had by this point made his way close enough to reach the couple before they had left.

"Burn the body." Arabella did not request, rather she demanded, though politely enough in tone. Arabella's final act, to deprive her of a proper burial as was her Christian right. Oh well.

Now the Queen had a choice. Would she tell her husband she had figured it out? Or should she pretend to be none the wiser. Which one was a smarter decision. Quite reasonably she would at first conclude the answer would be to keep her pretty little mouth shut. But then again... The two were settled into their carriage and blissfully left alone, the carriage began to move.

"I don't think I've ever loved you more than I do in this moment." She didn't. Arabella turned all of her attention to her husband. "That you would do this all for me." Once more, the smile. Arabella pushed herself closer to Christian. This was all about putting on a good show. "To make me happy." Arabella let out a small chuckle, something to indicate she was satisfied. She would not mention the fact that he really did it for himself and his own sick perversions.

"So I thought about it, and I figured it out." Arabella's face portrayed a sadistic excitement. A sentiment she did not actually share. "You took the choker and placed it in her rooms, and then you waited for to discover it missing. I wonder how long I took?" She was still smiling, there was no indication that she was not absolutely thrilled by this. "And then you told her you'd spare her. Whilst she undoubtedly cried and begged for your mercy in the Tower. She thought she was safe." Arabella laughed without missing a single beat. Arabella had a role to play, and now as she had taken a lover, she needed to be more attached than ever before to her husband.

"And at the last moment... when you approached. She must have thought, there it is... and I shall be Queen." Arabella laughed once more, the notion being entirely and utterly insane. "To see you take that away from her. There never has been anything more delicious, has there?" Arabella was echoing and identifying with his cruelty, and even if she harbored her own, she knew the Duchess did not deserve this, and that it had been wrong.

Arabella, within the privacy of the carriage, positioned herself on Christian's lap, facing him, she rested her hands upon his cheeks. "Well done, my King." Arabella looked as though she was a girl on Christmas morning, looking at her mountain of gifts. "You taught her and our people a valuable lesson. This mustn't steal from their Queen." Arabella's voice was lowering, there was a distinct seductive tone present. "I encourage you to take your reward." Arabella willingly offered herself.

[DuchessLivilla]

Christian was as happy as a man such as he could be; he had killed an innocent -ish- woman after mentally breaking her and making her think all was well, and his wife was happy once more. It had all gone so well. Perfectly, really. The woman had made a spectacle of herself, which had irked him a little but still, even that had served her badly and him well! Foolish whore. Anne Boleyn indeed. She might have at least picked a Catholic. And to choose a Queen too!

The King had to chuckle to himself at that. For all that had gone on there, Madam Boleyn had been crowned a Queen. Who did the Duchess think she was?

He helped Arabella into the carriage and took his seat, still smirking and chuckling. It was too funny, it really was. He smiled when Arabella started to talk. "Ah, my love, I never doubted you would figure out my little scheme. Merry Christmas, I am sorry it was not wrapped!" He laughed and slapped his thigh. "Ah but it was perfect, was it not? Her face. Most amusing."

Christian took her hand and smiled, as if this was a fine trip out! For him, of course, it was. "I am glad you are happy, dearest. Though I must apologise for her vitriol. That was uncalled for. I would have punished her but the game was so I could not. Still, she shall burn in hell for it and that is enough I suppose. After all, God, I know, watches all we do and He is for us, you and I, in all ways."

He laughed again. "Yes! Indeed. Her relief must have been so much when I appeared...I am only sorry I could not draw it out any longer but you know how hysterics annoy me. The crying and blubbering, ugh. Clearly shows her lack of breeding. She really thought she would be Queen. It amazes me how foolish the lower orders can be."

Ironically, the Duchess's family line was 'better' and 'higher' than the Queen's, who's father had been a Viscount, but when did logic ever feature in the King's mind. Arabella was his chosen Queen, and therefore the best in the realm...He would not have had her otherwise. Her actual ranking as a Viscount's daughter and then Duchess, now widow and mother of 'just' a daughter -deceased as far as Christian was concerned- meant nothing. She was his wife, and therefore touched by greatness.

The King smiled gently at her suggestion and patted her hand. "No, my love. I have spoken to the doctors. Such things are a risk to your health. I shall, from now until you are delivered and recovered, quit your bed. You must put all your energies into the child and not waste them on such things." He kissed her cheek. "It shall be a hardship, for both of us, I know, but we shall endure and be rewarded by the arrival of our son, will we not?"

Both he and Arabella knew full well that Christian would 'amuse' himself with others, likely lower class women who he could abuse and discard without anyone batting an eye. But at least Arabella would be free from his attentions for a while! Thank heavens for small mercies.

[Hannelorian]

All the while and pleasantly unaware of the goings on at the Tower...

Arthur sat at his desk with a pen in hand staring down at blank cards with something of a sigh. Next to it he glanced at what seemed like and endlessly long list. For hours now he had written a card, crossed a name off the list and started on the next. There were a vast number of people among the Aristocracy that would received holiday greetings from the Prince and Princess of Wales, once he had completed a small stack the cards would be picked up and transferred to his wife for her to complete her portion.

Unlike the King who merely signed cards written on his behalf, occasionally by Arabella depending on the recipient, Arthur and Alexandra wrote of theirs themselves, adding as many or as few personal touches as they so pleased. The front of the cards was a gorgeous illustration of Marlborough House in the winter. Naturally, Alex was only a few feet away at a small writing desk for her that had been brought into the Prince's study, and rather lived there most permanently.

However the two also took everything a step further, by also writing Christmas cards for members of their staff. The servants, who would also receive bountiful bonuses for their service, of course would also receive hand written thanks and well wishes from the Wales' and even they would certainly not be expecting it. Then again, this was the Wales' first Christmas together, and as such it was time for new traditions, their own traditions to occur and take root.

"I think..." Arthur began as he looked up only momentarily, long enough to gaze at his wife and smile. "Perhaps we should arrange a last minute nativity play." Arthur was simply voicing things that had been rattling around in his mind. Even though tensions were at an all time high between the Wales' and the Monarchs, there was almost a sense of serenity and normalcy within the confines of Marlborough House, it was their own little world. "We can gather some of the children, Bea, of course, as the baby Jesus." Arthur smiled just thinking about it. "It wouldn't have to be much, but just a little something to keep everyone's spirits up."

Arthur, being adorable, but also slightly naive, was counting on the baby being born in January. After all this is what the Doctors had said. He had not considered the fact that babies don't really stick to those sorts of schedules and could really arrive at any time now. He rather assumed they would simply have this time to themselves, at least until they were summoned to Court, which he knew was at least a week or two away.

"Or perhaps we could... figure out how to make it possible to ice skate..." Again, it didn't really matter that this might not be possible, Arthur would continue to voice his ideas about things that would bring people joy. Truly, that was all Arthur wanted, in addition to the health and safety of his wife, of course.

[DuchessLivilla]

Alexandra, now -according to her dates- mere two, perhaps three weeks from giving birth, was feeling the strain and, she admitted, growing a little tired of her condition. All the maids and female staff who had children themselves assured her that every mother-to-be felt the same and that she need not feel guilty for wishing the thing to be concluded!

She had, most days, given up on properly dressing as none of her gowns fitted anymore anyway! And spent her days in a nightgown and dressing robe, her hair either entirely loose or over one shoulder in a messy plait. It might have shocked society, who even in advanced pregnancy expected a woman to look as if she had just stepped into a ball, but Arthur found absolutely nothing wrong with his wife's new attire and in fact was rather in favour of it!

Alex had joked, more than once, that she was "sure there was an inbuilt desire in men to look upon their wives so scantily clad while pregnant...to remind them that they had caused it. A show of virility or some such" . Her husband had smirked and confessed she might have a point there!

Her daily activities were limited too which she found more and more tedious. Still, Arthur was almost always around and the pair could content themselves for many hours just talking, playing cards and enjoying one another's company.

Take their present employment of writing out greetings; it was sedate and rather repetitive but it was pleasant enough. She and Arthur would share glances and smile from time to time, and make comment on the people they were currently addressing a card to.

Alexandra sighed softly and shifted, rubbing her back with one hand and resting the other on her belly. She had had niggling little pains in her back for some hours now but simply put it down to her condition. After all, she was now carrying a lot of weight on the front, as it were. Actually, thinking about it, most things currently ached. She couldn't remember when she last slept through an entire night, either due to aches and pains, the baby kicking her, or the need to pee...again!

She looked down from her desk and gave a soft chuckle. Nor could see remember the last time she saw her feet. Still, it would all be worth it, God willing, when she held their little one. Alex smiled at Arthur's suggestion of a play and nodded, "Yes, that would be lovely. Just do not ask me to play Mary and sit in a stable. I fear if I knelt down I would never rise again...I am not entirely sure if I shall get out of this chair, actually!"

The Princess laughed and wrote another card, placing it on the ever growing 'done' pile. She smiled again at her husband, knowing he had numerous ideas in his head for the pleasure, happiness and betterment of the people. "If anyone can, darling, you can, I am sure. I imagine Alice has plenty of chances for that where she is. Her last letter mentioned that Thomas hoped to winter in Poland or Germany and that skating is very common. But you never know, we might be lucky with the cold and be able to skate upon the late."

She laughed again, "You and the others anyway. I cannot see my feet, let alone fit them into skates!" She set down her pen and smoothed her hands over the swell of her stomach and smiled fondly. "I think the little one is asleep...I wonder if I can get from here to my room to take a nap before he or she wakes up...I think I managed 4 hours last night," she sighed then looked up and said, "I wish you would agree to let me sleep...or rather not sleep in my own bed, Arthur. I keep waking you up. It's not fair that both of us cannot get any rest."

Alexandra went to rise and sighed again, then laughed, "Can you help me up?" She asked, though Arthur was already standing and coming over to help. "Ah, thank you," she kissed his cheek as he helped pull up to her feet. She stroked her stomach and looked down at herself again, "Not long now, it hardly seems real does it? Come mid-January we shall be parents...I still cannot quite believe it. I was the same with Bella. It seemed so strange to look at my sister, and think her now a mother, when I had known her as a little girl. Then again, it was not so far different from when she married. Suddenly she was a great Lady...How funny life is," she gave a tired smile.

"Right...I shall try and make it to bed before the baby wakes up and resumes his or her assault on my stomach. Do not worry," she kissed his cheek, "I'll ring for Mary before I go so she's there with me." She smiled at her husband, "You should take a break too. Go riding maybe? I'll be fine, I promise."

[Hannelorian]

Alex had said it, they were to be parents in practically no time at all. In a sense they were already parents, they were the parents that Bea would know as her own until such a time where that could be different. But this was his own child, his first child. Arthur could only hope some of what he picked up with Bea would help him with his own children. It couldn't be that much different, could it? After all Bea was barely a month old when she was forced from Arabella's hands.

"I'll say one thing for your sister, she's very good at adapting quickly to whatever role she needs to be. A Queen, A Duchess, a Mother." Arthur knew that Arabella had loved her daughter beyond all comprehension. He had seen that himself, and as much as he despised the woman for her actions against his beloved wife, he knew better than to doubt her as a mother, a mother who had to make an unthinkable choice.

And indeed, it did plague Arabella every day of her life. Every moment that passed a part of her was with her beloved daughter. The one thing she would sacrifice everything for. It was the one secret that Arabella hadn't even told her confessor. Her new found lover. Or had she?

"You don't wake me up!" Arthur said this with a smile, he was joking, clearly. But he didn't mind it. This was all part of the process, and he wanted to be aware of every last part of it. To know everything he could, to be there for his beloved no matter what the time of day. "Besides, neither of us will be getting sleep when the baby is born. So why not just get used to it now?" Arthur knew there would be nannies of course, but only to help. That he and Alex would be the primary care takers of their own children. They would be the hands raising them, not simply the hands guiding others to do so.

"And if Lady Alice were here, she would be the first to tell you to get straight to bed. In fact, I'll have to write to have her scold you upon her return." Once again, jokes. Arthur was a very different person around his wife than he was around almost anyone else. Yes, to his men he was a kind and thoughtful leader, brave and determined. But he was not soft, whereas around Alexandra, he simply melted. His heart like an ice sculpture. There were no two ways about it.

"As for me, I shall continue away at these cards until they are done, and after that, I shall think about a modest walk." In truth, Arthur didn't want to leave the house, not unless Alex was with him. While so strong was their love, so strong was his concern. The time was close at hand now, and he wanted to be there should anything happen. Anything at all. Especially with the idea that they will need to ride for Windsor while his wife labors.

[DuchessLivilla]

Alexandra smiled and kissed him gently, leaning on him for a moment, taking comfort in his closeness. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, sighing with a deep contentment. It was rather amazing, and something that her sister was discovering anew, that with the right person, it did not matter if there was war just outside the walls...Because in that moment, all was well and as it should be.

"The King and my sister will, perhaps rightly, call me arrogant for the very thought, but I cannot help but think everything shall be well...Perhaps not tomorrow, nor even next year but...eventually, the nightmare will end and the world shall be reborn in a much happier time and society. Or," she smiled and pulled back to look up at him, "I am a hopeless romantic, made soft by the love of a good man and thoughts of impending motherhood. Time shall tell, I suppose."

The Princess smiled again, kissed his cheek and left to go to her room, taking it slowly -by design and necessity- and talking to the baby as she strolled. "I cannot wait to meet you, little one, and I know your papa feels the same. I cannot say what the world shall be like when you arrive...nor what the future holds, but," she smiled to herself and stroked her stomach, "You'll never have cause to doubt how much me and your papa love you, I promise you that."

Alexandra reached her rooms -where she hadn't slept for some time, given that she almost always spent her nights in Arthur's- and found her maid Mary, a young, cheerful girl, always brimming with ideas for fun and mischief, making her bed ready.

Mary smiled and straightened from slipping a warming pan beneath the mattress. "Your Highness, the Prince sent word with a runner that you wished to nap so I've seen it all arranged."

Alex laughed softly and shook her head, "He thinks of everything. And my word, I must be slower than I thought in coming!"

"Not at all, ma'am! Jones came by the servants way and he ran, I do believe!" Mary giggled, "He certainly looked pleased to have beaten yourself here. I think the Prince bade him hurry and he took him at his word."

"Bless him. Remind me to thank Jones when I am up." She sighed and rubbed her back, "I hope the warmth shall chase away these niggling aches in my back."

Mary frowned. "Shall I fetch a hot-water bottle, ma'am?"

Alexandra smiled and removed her robe, laying it on the bed, "No, no, I am sure it is nothing to be concerned about...After all," she sighed playfully and framed her stomach with her hands. "This little one is certainly taking after his or her father in size! I do believe they shall be born at his height already!"

She climbed into bed, with Mary's help and laid back, sighing with contentment as the pressure on her feet, if nothing else, eased a little. She drew up the cover and relaxed. "I am hoping, and praying, the little one stays asleep for an hour or so, so I can rest, but we shall see. The nearer we get, the more they seem to want to kick their mother constantly!"

Alex laughed gently. "Anyway, I shall ring when I wake or wish to rise, Mary. Go and take some rest yourself if you wish, or feel free to sit in my sitting room and work at your sewing. The time is your own."

-

Alexandra did manage to sleep for an hour...but when she awoke, it was to the nagging feeling something wasn't quite right. She lay still in the dark, taking stock of her body in her mind before she shifted a little and gasped, sitting up as quickly as she could -which took a few seconds and three attempts- to shove back the blankets.

The sheets and nightgown between her legs were soaked. For a second she thought she had perhaps wet herself but something told her no, this was more than that. She swallowed and bit her lip then gasped again when a more insistent back pain almost took her breath away, this was followed by a strange, entirely new pain, that felt like a band suddenly tightening about her middle.

"Oh...Oh no..." she whispered, hastily reaching over and pulling, several times, upon the pull-cord by her bed which alerted the servants that attention was needed in the Princess's rooms. These bells, common in big houses, were placed downstairs in the servants quarters, along with the kitchens, and in several corridors.

When the pregnancy had been announced, Arthur had, thinking ahead, ordered bells to be rewired to his study and other places he often was, in case he was needed. And so, when, in the study, the bell under a brass plaque reading 'Princess's Bedroom' rang not once, suggesting she wanted her maid, but again, and again, and again, and did not cease, the Prince knew straight away something was wrong.

Mary too, sewing next-door, leapt to her feet and ran through to her mistress. She hurried to the bed and swallowed, seeing the wetness. "Oh...Ma'am, I think the baby is coming now..."

Alexandra nodded and dragged in a breath, "Y-yes, I think so too, here," she held out her hand, "Help me stand and pass my robe. Then go into the corridor and catch whoever is there. Tell them to find Mr Carlson, and tell him to send a runner to Windsor...As much...ah..." she stopped, breathing hard and holding her back as it protested her moving. "As much as I loath it, we must travel..."

[Hannelorian]

It seemed like hardly any time had passed between Alexandra taking her leave and the bell in the study began to ring like mad. Arthur at first thought himself in something of a dream before taking a look at the panel on the wall and rising quickly to his feet. "It must be." Arthur muttered to himself frozen for a mere moment before he darted out of the room and down the corridors like a man on fire in an attempt to reach his wife's rooms. He was so infrequently there, he had almost forgotten the route, but indeed he had practiced for such a call.

"Send for the carriages, blankets, pillows, anything, we must go to Windsor at once." Arthur had grabbed the attention of the nearest footman as she burst forth into Alexandra's rooms. "Do we go?! We need to go?!" Arthur was asking, but looking at his wife in her state he knew the answers, but he dreaded the very fact that they need to go anywhere at all. But perhaps his Father might finally understand that this was a serious matter, and very much a reality. Arthur approached his wife quickly, placed a kiss upon her cheek and swept her up into his arms, intending to carry her the entire way to the carriage.

---

All the while a liveried rider had arrived at the gates and ushered through quickly. The Butler had not been prepared and when the rider arrived at his door, he seemed a little puzzled. But certainly not frazzled. Instead he took his time in inspecting the man, and ascertaining where he was from. Though it took hardly a moment the stiff man made sure to drag this out as long as possible.

"State your business." Was all he said, rather cold, formal, without a hint of care or concern. This is how all members of the staff were made to regard anything that had to do with the Prince of Wales.

"I have an urgent message for their Majesties." The rider stated rather plainly, but his voice conveyed a sort of urgency, the kind that was understood at a time like this.

"I will take the message."

The rider seemed to be growing impatient, but he did not show it, not entirely anyway. "I am only permitted to pass the message to one or both of their Majesties directly."

The butler furrowed his brow and extended his arm taking the man through a variety of corridors until he was left in a small yellow drawing room. "Wait here." The butler vanished.

He had two choices, he could, of course go directly to the King. But on this matter, he rather suspected it would be more sensible to go through the Queen, let her have the displeasure of telling her husband. The Butler huffed and proceeded to move down the halls further toward the Queen's sitting room, where she often was found with her ladies. But she was not there. The Butler was forced to enquire with one of her maids, Mercy, a pesky little creature but she seemed to curry the Queen's personal favor.

Mercy was kind enough to relay him to the Chapel, where the Queen was at Prayer, and so off he went and slowly found himself opening the great doors, and sealing them behind him. At the very far end before the altar, he could make out two figures, both kneeling with hands folded. One was the unmistakable figure of the Queen. The other was one of her shadows, Father Lennox, who seemed to accompany the Queen most days.

The Butler walked as softly as he could down the aisle and found himself stopping just short of the pair where he bowed deeply. "Your Majesty."

Arabella had heard the voice, but in the midst of a line of prayer did not immediately respond.

"Your Majesty." The Butler called again, a bit louder this time, clearing his throat rather audibly.

Arabella stood up slowly and turned around. "Yes?" Was all Arabella said, but she did so politely, and without a tremendous amount of concern, though a part of her wondered why she was interrupted at prayer. Arabella had standing orders that she was never to be interrupted during prayer.

"A Rider from the Wales' is carrying a message for you."

Arabella heard the words and knew immediately what had happened. "So it is time." Arabella spoke softly and nodded her head. "Take me to him. Come along Father." Arabella looked at Anthony and smiled, as she was then led to the small yellow drawing room, where the man inside immediately bowed deeply upon catching the sight of the Queen, offering the usual greetings.

"She is in labor, correct?" Arabella did not wait for him to announce, she simply wished to get on with this. Her mind now a hot bundle of nerves.

"Yes ma'am." The rider answered plainly.

"Are they are their way?" Was Arabella's second question to which the answer was much the same as the first.

"Yes ma'am." He said again.

"Very well. Meet them on the road, ensure they arrive safely. She'll want to get here as quickly as she can, the pains will be great, increasing in difficulty. But you must make sure the carriage goes slowly, any bumps, or anything will only increase her suffering. I will see to everything here."

Arabella did not offer so much as a smile, she simply turned and left the room, grabbing ahold, gently of course, of Mercy who was in reality never far behind her, just in case she was needed.

"Send for Dr. Thomas. Then you must send for the other court physicians, including His Majesty's personal doctor. Have the girls make up the Dowager Queen's rooms. It will allow for all the space and comfort we can provide. We'll need plenty of hot water and blankets."

Arabella, herself having become a mother was in a much better position to now understand what this ultimately involved, and she was prepared to help, just as Alexandra had helped her during her own birth. And after all, Dr. Thomas had been her own doctor, and was now Alexandra's. But she trusted the man with her life, and this was her own way of ensuring nothing happened. She was in good hands if he was there amongst the King's physicians. "I have to tell the King." Arabella turned her attention to Anthony, who at this point was the only one left in her presence. "Pray for her. And wait for my call." Arabella made her way to the King's study.

She knocked lightly and waited for the call to enter. "Hello my darling." Arabella moved to her husband and kissed him gently upon the lips. "Word has come from Marlborough. The Prince is on his way, Alexandra is in allegedly in labour. I've already had your doctors summoned to oversee the alleged delivery.

[DuchessLivilla]

The King, at a game of chess against his confessor, looked up and stared at her, one eyebrow raised in puzzlement when she spoke, then he chuckled. "Oh dear. They cannot even get the dates right...Well, it is their game, let us play it to their rules...." He shared a look with his confessor who, rather like the Queen’s, was his through and through and would, at the drop of a hat, parrot the King’s views. He would even go against the Holy See if pushed; all for the King, it was. Likely because the Pope was far away in Rome and the King, a deadly man, was right here.

His confessor smiled acidly, as if he had swallowed a rotten oyster and nodded. “Indeed, Sire. You were very correct in making them come here so all the court can see their lies. It shall be much easier to do away with their pretentions to the Crown after this.”

Christian shot the man a warning look that he had said too much before the Queen and then glanced at the board again, “Your move, man.” Before he turned and looked to his wife again.

“Do not agitate yourself about this, my darling,” he took her hands and smiled. “I have had it all arranged for months. The servants know what to do. They shall conduct my fool of a son and the harlot to a guest room, far from our quarters, where she can act out her little charade without causing the staff any undue preparations. Also, as a little gift,” he smirked cruelly, “I have brought back ‘the honours’ as it were, for Royal births…Or so-called ones anyway,” he met his confessor’s eyes briefly, “If the whore wants a show, she may have one.”

The honours had been largely phased out of the ritual that surround Royal Births. In times gone by almost the entire court would pile into the delivery room and surrounding corridors in order of importance, to witness the Queen’s labours. This was to ensure that all was above board…That no bastard child was in line to the throne or that a fake pregnancy had taken place and a baby smuggled in.

Slowly but surely Royal wives had rebelled against the practice and the number of people allowed was lowered, only those with specific ‘honours’ being allowed in, and finally only in the next room with the door open and then outside with the door closed, with perhaps a trusted lady within, not connected to the Queen, to witness all was done right etc.

The King was clearly very pleased with his little scheme. “All of the court, those of Baron and above, may attend. Inside. And those under shall be in the corridors for the later fun…The guest room I have chosen has two anterooms leading off it that I have had cleared and furnished with seats and such, refreshments shall be served. My confessor and yours shall be in the room, as men above reproach, as shall the doctors.”

He laughed then, “Though naturally I have given orders that present though they may be, they are to do nothing. Only watch and record what goes on. Dr Thomas can do all that needs done…Not that much will need done, it being all a lie. He shall see her for what she is and give up his folly of supporting my son in his foolishness. When it is all over,” he paused and looked at the board, moving his Bishop before looking back to Arabella, “the lying trollop shall be summoned to my rooms where we shall be waiting for her…She will admit her lies, and all this can be over. The marriage can be annulled, and we shall have peace.”

It was rather a horror. Arabella knew full well Alex really was pregnant...and not only did the King plan to bring back the rather outdated 'honours' of witnessing the birth, but he also, it seemed, planned to make Alexandra walk to his rooms after...Of course, to him, she wasn't with child but...A woman, freshly delivered, being expected to walk to his rooms...

Furthermore, it was also clear that the King, unlike what Arabella had just ordered, had no intentions of Alex being allowed comfort, privacy or anything else a woman, let alone a Lady and Princess -and Princess of Wales who might well be carrying a future heir- could expect in such a matter. A guest bedroom? It was a studded insult, as it was meant to be. Let alone making it a public spectacle!

In all that…Nothing had been said to where Arabella would be, beyond with the King in his rooms afterwards…Was it his wish that she remained there, and not see nor help, nor comfort her sister in her labours? Of course, the Royal line was that there were no labours…

Any doubt on this subject was removed when the King patted her hands and smiled, “Let us just finish our game and then we shall play cards, if you wish, or perhaps take a stroll in the grounds. I imagine the whore will let this drag on some time before she admits defeat and I see no reason for us to waste a day while she capers. Ah, there is an idea, go and find your Confessor and tell him to come here, he can then join this sly old dog in his duties.”

The King looked down at the chessboard again and chuckled, “Aptly named, you fox. You have my King I do believe…Let us see…”

--

Doctor Thomas, alerted by a second rider sent out, met the carriage on the road and hastily moved from his to theirs, much to Alex and Arthur's relief as neither of them knew much about what was about to occur beyond the basics. Alexandra had a little knowledge from watching her sister's labours, but she had not been there in the early stages and therefore was not sure how much time one had from the start to the end!

The tension was extremely high; both parties knew that if the Princess gave birth in the carriage...The child would never be accepted by court or King...The poor thing would be a bastard, whatever was said, as the King would ensure that everyone assumed it was a great lie and a changeling had been swapped in. In order to give the baby, boy or girl, a chance, he or she had to be born at Windsor, with credible witnesses.

As such, what awaited them, still unknown, of a bevy of courtiers outside the delivery room, all peering in, seeing and hearing all, was actually a gift in disguise. The King would have been wiser, had he not been so set on humiliation, having the Princess give birth in some little corner, with no one but Dr Thomas and Arthur, and perhaps some maids there; Dr Thomas was half-tainted and could, as far as the King was concerned, be controlled, Arthur and Alexandra were biased, naturally and would lie, and maids could be bribed...

Instead, he had set in motion the perfect situation for his enemy; by the end of it, so many would have seen a. the Princess arrive, clearly in labour, b. witnessed or heard her labour, and c. seen the newly born infant, that it would be entirely impossible for the King or anyone else to claim it was a lie, a fallacy or that a baby had been smuggled in.

Whatever happened now...Alex's child would be legitimate and set another thorn for the King.

Inside the carriage, the Doctor, with many apologies, to which both Royal's dismissed out of hand, hastily examined his patient as best he could with the moving carriage and lack of space, and assured them all looked well and that they had time. By his reckoning, there was no risk of the child being born in this carriage.

Alexandra, much relieved, focussed on remaining calm and breathing. She would, later, suppose she should be appalled at arriving at Windsor in such a fashion, but in the moment, she could not have cared if she arrived naked and gave birth in the courtyard before the grooms and footmen. All she wanted was her child's safe arrival.

She closed her eyes and held onto Arthur's hand as the carriage rumbled along, whispering prayers that all would go well. She wondered too if Bella would be with her. She doubted it though...Even if she wanted to -which she doubted too- the King would never allow it. As far as he was concerned, she was not with child, and this was all a game. He would never allow his beloved Queen to be involved, in case she was tainted.

Besides, Bella was pregnant herself; she had her own concerns to think of and her own health.

"Dear God, please keep my child safe. We enter the lion's den and I fear some evil is planned. I beg of you, if it costs my life, let my child live."

The carriage thundered into the courtyard at Windsor, followed by the one behind containing a few maids, each with various bags and such; Mary carried the bag of baby clothes that Alex had stitched herself, along with the Christening robe that mothers typically made, just in case their baby needed to be hastily baptised...If he or she did not, the baby should -but who knew what to expect- expect a Royal Christening in St George's chapel, with the great and good of the realm to witness.

As Arthur hastily alighted to see what arrangements had been made, Alex leant over and whispered to Dr Thomas, holding his hand hard as she did so, “Doctor…Promise me, if there is a choice to be made…save the baby.”

Dr Thomas swallowed and glanced out then back at the Princess before he shook his head. “I cannot make that promise, Princess. If His Highness lost you, he would lose all that he holds dear, and all his fight. He needs you, just as this country will one day need you. If God wills it, there will be more children if one be lost…But there will not be another you, not for him. So, I cannot promise it. But I shall promise to do all in my power to make sure both of you come through this ordeal safely.”

Alexandra could do nothing more than nod in agreement to this.

Outside, Arthur found several servants and the Comptroller of the Household waiting for him. The man bowed, “Your Highness. Rooms have been prepared for the Princess, if you would follow me?” He stood back and watched as Alex, with her husband’s help, alighted from the carriage. It occurred to the man, with a little bit of concern, that…she did look very pregnant…He had, like the rest, supposed it all a jest but…

He gave a bow to her and gestured, “This way, Your Highnesses. His Majesty has bade us prepare guest rooms for you in the east wing…”

Arthur, who had grown up and spent much time at Windsor, would have known at once that these were not Royal Apartments, and miles from such rooms, and also that the east wing guest rooms were for middling sort of visitors…such as a governess of a Duchess’s child at court or some such. The studded insult was clear.

Alex should not even have to give birth here, but if she did, as Princess of Wales, she should be given one of the Royal Apartments that were always kept ready for visits by the Prince and Princess…Instead the King had given orders such was to be denied. It was disgusting. It was, perhaps worse in terms of court rules, against his own rules of etiquette.

Alexandra, who had overheard it and knew enough of the layout to know what was meant, touched her husband’s arm and whispered, “The room does not matter. He wants us to be annoyed. Do not give him that pleasure. All that matters is the baby and his or her safe arrival…I would give birth right here if needed.”