(LOG)Prince Tyltin V is born

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen observed Silas' retrieval of his property, still slightly repulsed but, in an odd way, proud as well. He'd expected the berrating from Danele when he finally told her of the man, though Silas' mother was just as intent on sending him away after his permanent blindness was confirmed. Most of the castle were utterly suspicious of the crippled, and those not of royal blood were lucky to live at all. His pace did indeed slow for his lady wife, and when they finally crossed the threshold into the chapel he took a deep breath, smelling the burning of the candlewax. "This place is getting more comfortable every time I visit," he breathed, surprised that it was true.

Silas Valenti made no comment. He'd treat his mother with the same cool demeanour, if she'd still been living - perhaps yet more ice. Of all the laws of the Scriptures, he'd always had to pray for forgiveness, for his lack of forgiveness when it came to that particular woman; she could keep that troughing brute Uhtred, and deny him entirely. Unmotherly. He placed his staff down in the suitable slot by the altar after a brief moment of hover-and-remember, and then made his ponderous way around behind the altar, following the scent ofburning candles and scraping his fingers along the ridge at the bottom of the many shelves to hunt for a wick and three unlit candles. His second hand paused overtop a lit candle, guaging by heat where the lick of flame was, and working the wick-tip over to it. Practiced, it would seem - but one could assume he had his methods for everything priestly.

Danele Valenti blinked at her husband. He was comfortable in the chapel? Now, that was surprising. In the past, he had only come when he had to, not because he wanted to. He had not even put much emphasis on religion. Yet, here he was, actually looking pleased to be within the small building. "It is a place of peace and comfort," she spoke quietly. Gaze slid up his tall length to settle on his face. "Often, answers can be found here that can be found nowhere else." She gave another squeeze to his hand, followed by an affectionate smile. She looked to Silas then. "I would imagine you find this place a bit more comforting, as well?"

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen's eyes tracked Silas almost unconsciously, for the man seemed so...normal...when he wasn't turned to face the onlooker. He could walk unfettered and seemingly without fear. Shaking his head slightly, he took further steps into the room, glancing back at the Queen when she spoke up. "It is peaceful...but I have yet to find any answers. Only more questions." He didn't seem troubled by this fact, though, as he casually stepped forward to face Silas from across the table, ready to take his burning taper when it was lit.

Silas Valenti lit each with the same patient, careful precision - he seemed to everything more slowly than most men, but certainly no less confidently. Had he ever been able to see, he might be more shakey, less assured, certainly feel more vulnerable. "This is the only place I feel comfortable," he answered Danele, with no tone, rather more just a simple fact. He offered out their blue candles, one in each hand, in the direction of their voices - which naturally made one arm much further up than the other. "I find there are more answers beyond Church doors," he mused. "Answers are in life and living, if you look with open eyes, and accept that sometimes the answer you get might well be the answer you least want. Holy places permit time to reflect on your answers, and direction. We all require guidance." He waited until he'd been relieved of the candles, and then lit his own.

Danele Valenti took the candle in hand. "Thank you." She seemed to not be able to say a thing correctly where Silas was concerned, and though it bothered her, she did not allow it to offend her. It was going to take time for Silas to gain any level of comfort around any of them, if he managed to do it at all. Only time would tell, and probably alot of time, at that. "Yes, you are right, Silas. Everyone of us does require guidance. Unfortunately, far too many fail to seek it out."

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen took his candle without voicing the marvel at Silas' precision, for a half-second doubting the man's blindness, though he remembered well the tests performed on the babe, and he still possessed those same milk-coloured irises. He murmered his thanks after the Queen. Their talk turned to guidance, and the King mused on their words; he was supposed to be the guidance for Nharati, the path-setter, the way-lighter, and yet he felt as blind as Silas and not half so confident. "Let us seek such guidance, then, even if it brings us no answers." With that, he went to sit on one of the plush, backless cushions which defined the walkway up to the altar. His head knelt in the chapel for the second time that day, and his eyes dimmed, lids just barely slitted, taking in the gleam of candlelight.

Silas Valenti remained where he was with his candle, having not intended to make Danele feel such - he simply took a different opinion. To guidance it was. Flame flickered on said white irises, which were as sightless as the day he'd been tested to see the extent of his curse. The truth of it, was simply that his other senses gathered to attempt to compensate for his lack of vision, and really, he assumed that if one had a guide, one got used to depending on a guide, and grew lazy in one's own attempts at perceiving the world. And Silas was many flawed things, but he certainly wasn't lazy. Besides, constant company and dependence would drive him positively mad, if he wasn't already. So, he set to his contemplating; his regular requests, his regular penances, his regular confessions.

Danele Valenti took the seat beside Wyld, and like him, bowed her head. Lashes fluttered down, concealing her eyes. Lips began to move in silent prayer. Of course there were the usual blessings asked for her family. Then, she asked for guidance for Wyld, and his protection. He was in turmoil, needing peace wisdom that only a higher power would be able to bring. Next came the request of a safe birth for her babe. They had waited so long for this child. Nothing could go wrong, else it would devestate not only her, but Wyld. They needed this, and she had done everything she could to ensure it.

The Silent Ghost emerged from the ether with a soft flutter of wind that somehow snuffed out every single candle in the chapel. Prayers had no place here anymore. The cold empty sockets of a skull that once held eyes could crush the most sturdy of marrow. His hands clenched with a cold grasping touch that could suck the life out of a newlywed's bed, and they were reaching from behind the woman. Sound dulled, nearly muted as fingers ripped themselves past the fickle shrouds of the woman's dress. The cold was there, reaching from under her buttocks and suddenly filling her in the most vile sense. Fingers elongated like the branches of oak that scraped against the windows outside. The cold was enough to kill an infant... if it were real.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen thought many things, though none of them resembled the muted appeals and ignorant wishes that so commonly passed for prayer. This force he knew he could not stop, could not wrest down, could not tame...if only it were manifest in a rebellion, as Torrtait had, then he could quash it as effectively as he had squelched that little tiff. When his mind turned to his unborn child, he felt a rending mixture of fear, hope and excitement. He couldn't handle another loss, not after Danele had come so far. It was on that thought that the chapel's candels guttered and extinguished as one, as if some unfelt wind had swept through the room. Blinking in the sudden near-total darkness, Wyld felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest. Sucking in a breath, he turned beside him, blinking in the inky black to try and make out his wife.

Silas Valenti felt the heat go out. His vague light sensors lost some of the orange that occasionally lit up his darkness. Unnatural. He placed down his candle, stepping around the altar and wrapping his spider-leg fingers around the staff. One of his protection comforts; a symbol of God. Surely, nothing, not even the unnatural, could content with the will of God. And so sure was he in his faith of that, that he simply waited to hear, smell and feel a reaction. Something. Something that'd pinpoint whatever force had arrived in his Chapel, in God's Chapel. Perhaps they could see something he couldn't - perhaps they knew what it was. Perhaps they didn't, and were as blind as he was in that moment.

Danele Valenti was still deep in her prayers when the candle she held sputtered and went dark. Normally, she would have thought nothing of it, but a cold sensation began to surround her. Eyes flew open as a horrendous wave of fear washed over her. This was not right. This was not supposed to happen in a blessed place. It was a holy ground, and as such, they were supposed to be protected, right? Instinctively, her hand went to belly, while the other still clutched the cooling taper. It was then she saw them. White tendrils were surrounding her from behind, and God help her, they resembled fingers. They were sinking into her belly, her sides, filling her with a chill that seemed to freeze her very bones. "No..." she whispered, though could barely get the word past her paralyzed throat. It wanted her baby, her son. It was going to take him, just like Garnett's child had been stolen. From the very depths of her soul sprang painful denial. "Nooooo!" the Queen shrieked, agony drowning the single word.

The Silent Ghost waited for the very moment that the woman shrieked before every single candle in the chapel reignited. Not only did it ignite, but it billowed a fire that licked at the ceiling. The ghost was plain for all who could see, now. That blank skull twisted on the spine that propped it up. His blank socket skull stared at the man. If there was skin on the skull, the grin would be apparent. A second hand plunged into the woman, in a manner just a touch more appropriate. The hand seemed to wriggle in the stomach, the cold toying with the child and threatening to simply rip it right out of her. And then, as quickly as it had commenced, the Silent Ghost vanished. The fire died, leaving the candles as they had been before. Everything was normal... and changed.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen flinched with that first, horrible whisper; her shriek had him leaping to his feet, bashing into Silas. He tumbled and fell, smacking his head against the outstretched limb of that accursed statue, his mind reeling from the shock. It was happening again...even though she'd come so far, the Old Gods or the ghosts or some unseen wizard was ripping his child from its mother's womb, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. A deeper darkness threatened him, more solid and final than the mere lack of light in the spindly little room. Only his rage saved him from falling into the abyss. His eyes were closed when the fires reignited, saving him from the temporary blindness such a conflagration would doubtless cause. Shocked, his eyelids slitted open, and he got a clear picture of the spectre wrapping around his wife. A pained bellow passed from him and he sat up, woozing, but it was too late; before the King could take to his feet, the ghost had simply vanished.

Silas Valenti actually hissed once the candles reignited, expression twisting into something that could only be considered a particularly displeased snarl. Infernal trespasser. Screams would no doubt bring people running, that he was sure of - and he could only assume. It was all relatively obvious. His staff clonked to the floor for a second time, much less graciously than the first, and a moment later the Deacon-Prince's hands moved forward to settle against the Queen's stomach - very gently, simply touching in the hope that he'd feel some sort of life. Either way, his utterance was urgent, though oddly calm. Did he ever panic? "Father, go and get a physician, and a nun. Or just... Some woman who's been in a Cloister. I can't go, I won't be fast enough. Go get them."

Danele Valenti's eyes were wide with panic. So much so that the whites of them could be easily seen. Frantically, she began to tear at the cloth covering her swollen belly in an attempt to rid herself of those terrifying, ghostly fingers. She heard her own screams, but strangely, they sounded as if they were coming from far away. Nails dug into the fabric, ripping it to shreds, despite the fact the fingers vanished as quickly as they appeared. Unfortunately, poor Silas probably suffered a scratch or two when he laid his hand on her unborn child. The babe jumped inside of her, feeling his mother's terror, but Danele could feel none of it. She could not hear Wyld's pained bellow, nor Silas' gentle tone, or even the rushed voices of entering guards and servants. Her babe was being taken. She knew it, and she had to stop it.

Emersyn The guards had flown from the chapel at the words from Silas, needing no command from the King for they knew that something must be done. One clambered to the second floor, pounding on the door of the infirmary, drawing out Emersyn from the woman's wing with a demand what was the matter. When she learned, her olive face went white, and the always proper Lady von Pith ran down the stairs, black gown streaming behind her, slippers sliding across the grass as her long legs took her toward her Queen. She didn't wait to see if any other's came. This was Danele..and the worst had happened, the same as Garnett. She practically stumbled through the door, forgetting in her haste to remove her shoes as she clambered toward Danele, kneeling breathless at her side, Silas, poor man..ignored though one hand grabbed Wyld's arm, trying to yank him closer to Danele. "Breathe, my sweet..relax." She murmured to the Queen, glaring at the others. "What happened? Exactly." Anger won out over fear, that anyone would dare such a thing and in the chapel no less.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen ignored the demand from his long-lost son; no one could part him from Danele now. The guards who had followed them into the room were a flurry of activity, though, some running for help while others marched in a feeble display of corporeal strength that could not save his babe even if their lives depended on it. The fall had knocked the King's senses from him, but he paused until he'd regained them, his hands stilling the spinning of the room by gripping the edge of his chair. Blurred vision focused and sharpened on Danele, her frantic motion sending panic through his veins. Before he knew it, Emersyn was at his side, tending to Danele with all the concern that his own addled senses couldn't seem to muster. "A ghost," he rasped in answer, the fury only tingling at the edge of his tone.

Mereavus wasn't far behind Emersyn, as it happened, having been teaching Elwena the complexities of jumps; so, she had a much swifter mode of travel, and arrived on hooves instead. Boots disregarded church rules entirely and crossed the blue carpet, leather trousers creaking as she crouched in front of Danele, next to Silas, and took hold of one of her hands with a pair of felt gloves. "Darling," she murmured, brief glance given to the blind Prince, but nothing more. "Calm for me. Calm for him." One hand went south to the bump, unconsciously feeling for the same thing as Silas had been. The word 'ghost' set her hand to probing a little further, brow furrowing lightly as she concentrated on feeling for the slightest movement. "He's moving," she announced quietly, more for Danele than anyone else. Not gone - not yet, anyway.

Elwena did not enter with Mereavus, but she would not be far behind. The infirmary was her first stop. She had never dealt with the birthings of humans, but she had dealt with cows, and that counted, right? Still, it was Queen Danele, the one she had sent the strawberries to and it was with all the speed and strength she had in her to gather her things. Shoes were completely disgarded and a light blue, single layered dress was donned. It was important not to wear something that could be ruined with internal fluids. Servants were snatched from every corner to help her with the materials she needed to carry back. If anyone had seen the young girl in process, they would have been awestruck. Directions snapped; "Get a bucket of hot water!" "Grab those towels-MORE" "Hurry that pillow to the chapel" "Carry this" "You, bring a medical gown for the Queen. She needs something clean to lie in" "I will KICK your knees off if I see you standing there again!". It was with carefulness that she and the servants entered. Elwena looked her palest and at the same time her most concentrated. Wild hair flew in the air behind her. Any servant who was requested to stay might, anyone else was dismissed. There were plenty of people to help. "Ghost?" She looked at the crowd a little confused, but a sigh of relief crossed her lips at the indication that the babe was still alive. She set the bucket of hot water down. "Anyone who can help should. Is she able to swallow? I have herbs that may help ease the pain..." She'd make it a point to squeaze in where she could, "I have a pillow to lie her back on someone's lap comfortably (assuming she's not already like that...), and a dabbing towel for her sweat. Take places..." This was nothing like a fucking cow.

Danele Valenti became dimly aware of the faces that had not been there moments before. Emersyn, Mereavus, Elwena. They were there and trying to calm her. Yet, she could be calmed, for her baby had been touched, and now, it was gone. Great sobs began to rip from her throat; low keening wails that help a multitude of emotional pain. "Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen...." She choked out his name, but she had failed him.. again. A promise had been made, and now, it was broken. How could she ever look at him again? How could he not despise her? Then, Mereavus' voice broke through the haze of grief. Her babe was still moving? Frantically, her hands clutched her belly on both sides, and sure enough, she felt an answering ripple. "He lives..." she whispered. Relief, so profound it nearly made her faint, swept through her. "He ... he lives!"

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen wasn't surprised when the room began filling with people, now, for the news would surely spread. He earnestly hoped to avoid a panic, but his first concern lay in the health of the child, and then the health of his wife. It seemed that the child was coming, dead or alive. His strangled name stole his attention, and he forced his way closer to her, bringing his hand over her forehead. "Yes, my dear...he lives." For now, as Mereavus had thought. Normally he wouldn't be present during a birthing, so he had little experience with this. Glancing to Emersyn, Mereavus, to anyone who might now, he blurted out, "Can she be moved to the infirmary?"

Osanna was woken from a sound sleep by a rough hand on her shoulder. "Wake up! The Queen's in labor woman!" She opend her mouth to say something, but the man was allready dragging her out of bed. It was too soon, she found her step about half way down the hall and hit the stairs down from the servant's dormatory at a dead run, out distanceing the man in armor easily. Kitchen. Basket. She could hear the girl, the new healer shouting above the other servants, laundry women and kitchen boys dragged from their beds. She caught sight of the girl rounding the bend, hair wild, streaming out bhind her in the dark, the cold of the night. The chapel? The beast burst through the heavy doors, kerchief sagging, ragged night dress hanging off one shoulder, sallow skin oddly luminicent in the half light, murky eyes bleeding pale green. The cold. She could feel it. See the blur sorrounding the...the queen... Just like Garnett. Lord, she'd heard of this. Death's hand. "Oi! Girl!" She was over the pews like a gazelle, crammed in the footwell behind the queen, "Don' fuckin' move her," She snapped, jamming a hand into that basket of her's to immerge with an...iron cross. Two nails melted toghter on a leather thong which she slipped around the queen's neck. "Death's hand's beeen on her!"

Mereavus nodded some, glancing up when Elwena arrived with it all, and beginning to work off her gloves. "He's alive. And coming, darling. I imagine with all the determination of a Valenti." She glanced over her shoulder at the King, briefly contemplating the move - possible. And more appropriate. "Yes," she answered. "But she needs to be carried gently, and with as few bumps as possible. Pace is not the best answer - stressors will only make the situation worse. Slow and smooth." She paused, glancing back towards the room, and then to the stomach in front of her. Suddenly the lessons of a Cloister proved rather useful - fortunately, she'd done this on people rather than cows. She glanced up to Danele shortly afterwards. "Darling, I want you to concentrate on keeping your spine as straight as possible, and I want you to hold tight to your husband, until we get to the Infirmary. Just trust me." Her eyes turned onto Osanna, and she very slowly rose, one brow quirking. "She will be moved," she stated firmly. "It's not clean enough in here to do this. And watch your language in a Chapel, I doubt the Deacon takes kindly to it." Oops. In no mood for argument, apparently - trinkets would do no good here.

Emersyn's brow furrowed at Wyld's explanation for she'd gathered as much from the guards. Her hand remained on him, hoping to keep him centered as much as Danele. Everyone would hover around the Queen, she knew, and as much as she adored the woman, Wyld could not be forgotten. "There..he's still with us, my King." She murmured with a weak smile. The antics of the young apothecary would have made her chuckle any other time, but she knew it was concern. "Let's just see how she's doing first, child." The Lady remarked calmly, pressing a kiss to Danele's temple as her hand supported her lower back, tempering the words with a tight smile. More terror than actual threat it seemed, and the babe lived. The tighteness that had gripped her chest eased as she nodded. "Danele, what say you? The infirmary will be more comfortable. My King, can you manage carrying her?" Emersyn's eyes focused sharply on him, intending to see that he had a good dose of spirits once they were settled. The language of the creature suddenly upon them made her scowl, eyes flashing. "And the babe still lives. He's mov-" But Eave had a firm handle on the situation, Em backing off to offer an arm or hand to anyone who needed it.

Elwena was even more relieved when Mereavus stepped in. Afterall, Elwena did not forget her speaking of a little knowledge in the birthing area. "Yes, I agree with the Lady Varana. Unless she breaks water, she goes to the infirmary. M'lady," She started, an apologetic look to Osanna before it returned to Mere, "I would like to focus my attentions on her pain control and comfort." She gave the woman a look as if saying 'I want to learn, but I need to do a job as well'. She knew the woman could interpret almost any of her expressions, especially after guessing her secret, so she hoped the moment was not lost in all of the heat. "If she can swallow I have a potent herb." She stated, moving over for Mereavus as she grabbed one of the baskets. In it was a corked, brass jug full of hot water and a few cups. "Nettle, purified and concentrated, my queen, if you are well enough to accept..." She said, pulling with trembling fingers the materials to make the concoction.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen concentrated on Mereavus's assent, everything else going dim for him. The chaotic cacophony was muted; even Emersyn's kind touch was hardly felt, his eyes lavishing Danele with all the warmth and tenderness he could muster. His arms, still possessed of great strength, slid behind her shoulders and beneath her knees. Before he knew it, the King was standing, his head throbbing where it smacked the cold stone, though his feet were confident. Very carefully, he turned. "We are heading to the infirmary," he announced rather loudly, hopefully breaking over the din. "Any who wish may join us there." From there, he made his way slowly out of the chapel, taking step by step through the grounds and into the castle proper.

Danele Valenti had so many hovering around her that it was almost overwhleming; and what was this? From the jumble of voices, it sounded like they thought she was in labor. No sooner did she open her mouth to tell them such was not true, than it felt like an iron band clamped down over her belly and squeezed. She gasped and tensed, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. The fear that had begun to dissipate reared its ugly head once more. God, was she going to lose the babe now? Was the pain an omen of what was to come? Once the pain subsided, she grabbed for her husband with feverish hands. "Its too soon...." Another pain ripped through her, only a minute later. All of the questions, the requests, the advice, were forgotten in the midst of the contraction. Her face paled and a wicked shudder rolled through her entire body.

Mereavus went ahead rather than following, having fallen quite directly back into 'birthing mindset'. By the time they arrived, she was rolling up her sleeves, and tying an apron around her waist - from brocade and rubies to looking rather much like an actual surgeon, hair pinned up neatly and the lot. Once Elwena arrived, she asked her for an alcohol solution and a bowl of warm, not hot, water, and then set to helping Danele once Wyld brought her in. She'd caught the expres​sion(if there was one thing the Advisor never did, it was miss a thing), and absently removed the slightly-too-big engagement ring and placed it in a drawer for safe-keeping until the entire, no doubt messy, ordeal was over.

Emersyn paused to pat Elwena's shoulder. "When we get to the infirmary, child. Patience. Hopefully she can manage the nettle." And with that, she was off after the King, keeping pace as worried eyes lingered on the pair of them. Fingers flicked for the servants once they were inside, ordering strong spirits brought for the King. She pulled down the blankets on the bed in the infirmary, plumping up the pillows, realizing as she glanced at Danele that it wasn't just the fear. She was going into labour, and a month early at that. "Shhh, now, love. Maybe he's just impatient to be with us, hmm? Just breathe, darling." Once she was settled, she stepped back to pour a large measure of brandy for the King, placing it in his hand once he'd set the Queen down.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen cared not a whit for his fancy clothes, fine felts and silks though they were. He spent all his attention on his load, making sure to negotiate the stairs particularly carefully. When he finally reached the infirmary he eased Danele onto a waiting bed and breathed a heavy sigh, looking at Mereavus expectantly, and then he was surprised to find a strong liquor in his hand. His surprise did not translate into hesitation, however, for he knocked the drink back in two great gulps and demanded another.

Osanna perced her lips. Ought to have known not one of them would listen. The touch was still on the queen, but at the very least there was a charm on the woman now. The beast followed, heedless of her less than dressed state. If that thing came back.....She'd be ready for it. Let the old biddys cluck and molt. If this babe was boren, he'd be a better choice for king than that monster. It was a boy after all. So the beast contented herself with blending with the others in the room. Warm water here, a blanket around the stunned king's shoulders, an extra pillow at the fingertips of thoes tending the queen. An order away. A hand in reach.

Elwena was like a loyal assistant, learning as she dumped some of the hot water, replaced the cold, and viola! Warm water! Well, that was one difference between a Queen and a Cow. When the Queen was struck with pain, she quickly moved back to her tea, jumping a little when Emersyn touched her. She swallowed and nodded a little, the woman far more put together than herself. She wished she had given the tea earlier because now it'd be harder to get the pain management in the queen between screams. Still, it was important. She ordered servants, practically repeating Mere's words like an echo as she stirred the tea until it was a crisp, hearty peuce. Delicious! Being so potent, it would be bitter, but the bitterness would also help distract from the pain if only a little. Moving to her mouth, she tentatively cupped the Queen's neck, careful not to get in the way of the king, "I apologize your Majesty..." She whispered, gently lifting the tea to her lips, "Sip when you can."

Danele Valenti clung to Wyld while he carried her out of the chapel and into the castle. What was she going to do if she lost this babe? It was too soon for the familiar, tightening pains in her abdomen; at least a month early. Finally, they arrived at the infirmary, and though she was reluctant to release her grip on Wyld's shoulders, she laid back on the mound of waiting pillows once he placed her in the bed. Emersyn's comforting manner seemed to cut through the haze once more. "You really think so?" Her tone was hopeful, even if her eyes were not. She was terrified, and it showed. Absently, she drank whatever it was Elwena gave her, not tasting it, then looked up at Mere. "Do not let me fail, Eave..."

Emersyn refilled the King's glass with barely a glance, seeming to know when it would be empty. Hands nudged him to take the seat nearest Danele, and she circled around to stand at the head, sharp eyes watching the movement of the crowded room. It was almost too much, temptation rising to send them away, but for the moment, they were tending to needs. A tender smile curved her lips as she took up a cloth to wipe Danele's brow. "I do, my Queen. Look at my eyes. Concentrate.." Her voice was absolute calm, expression as unworried as if she were merely waking from a nap. "Take a deep breath. You need to relax. Sometimes it's false labour, but if it's not, he's just anxious to be with us. Your babe will be fine." She hoped she wasn't lying, and that her words would make it so. "A strong lad. He's been so active. How can he not be impatient to be born, hmm?"

Mereavus bathed her hands and forearms in both water and the solution, glancing up at the people in the room - no help for it, she couldn't give birth in her clothes. At the Queen's words to her (no pressure), she looked up, and threw out one of those flawlessly reassuring smiles. "Never, darling," she answered, with perfect surety. She kept said assuring gaze on her for a few seconds longer, and turned to the rest of the room. It was time to give orders, and the Lady Varana was very good at doing that. "Emersyn and Osanna, I need you to get her Majesty out of that dress and her underclothes, and into a medical gown. Do not bump her. Have the servants help you if necessary - keep in mind, I'll fill their ears with intestines if there's so much as a mark left. Elwena, come here, I need you to get some things for me." And those things were best said... Quietly.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen was halfway through his second glass, his free hand roaming down Danele's arm to grip at her wrist. He murmered something vaguely reassuring, though he was truly out of his element here. At Mere's command to strip the Queen he nearly bridled, but in the end he trusted the advisor to know what was best, so he left any protest to the next gulp of brandy. A deep breath brought the harsh vapours deep into his lungs and he nodded, his fingers gripping her arm. He would not abandon her in this, her hour of greatest need.

Danele Valenti fought to do as Emersyn urged, but damn it was difficult. The babe had been active, right? He was also very large inside of her. The physician had even said as much. Would it not make sense that he wanted to make his appearance in the world? She waved away any hands that might have been reaching for her, then reached for Wyld's hand instead. She brought it to her lips and closed her eyes, bowing her head for a moment. She would be strong. She had to. The fear had to be cast aside, and her son had to be born. Her promise was not yet broken, and it would never be, if she had anything to do with it. Finally, she lifted her lids and gazed directly at her King. "Soon, you will hold your son, and he will be healthy and loud and screaming from being taken from his warm nest," she vowed. Even if she had to die to give him life, she would. She would do whatever it took.

Osanna gave the Queen's Advisor a curt nod, slipping in through the croud as easily as that cat of her's could have. "Allright m'lady," She murmerd, yes, much softer when she wasn't bellowing like a drill sergent. "Lets have out o'these clothes hummm?" The beast didn't have a terriable bedside manner, after all, her hands were gentel and efficient. Buttons, laces, she tugged her own faded blue ribbon out of her long hair and used it to pull the poor, laboring, woman's hair out of her face and out of her way. She may have been a queen, but right now, she was any woman giving birth. Layers of undergarments, the beast was so careful. "Yeh tell me if yer uncomfortable m'lady, I don' know yeh like yeh know yeh," Even if she was takeing a back seat to the Lady VonPith, the queen needed to know that even her lowest servant cared for her this night.

Emersyn slipped away to gather up one of the linen medical gowns, giving Danele a moment to speak with her husband. More than anything, they needed one another right now. Shaking out the gown, she crouched across from Osanna, for once smiling at the woman as an equal. No time for positions right now. Gentle hands crept over Danele's clothes, reassuring with their touch, body trying to shield as much of the woman from the lingering servants as she could. Shifting the gown out from beneath her proved difficult, Emersyn relying on Osanna's supportive arms as she crooned her way through it. Undergarments followed, Emersyn finding it painfully odd to be undressing her Queen in such a public fashion, and she quickly helped drape the loose gown over her, gently working her hands through the short sleeves, eyes darting to her rippling belly. "Of course he will. He'll scream loud enough to announce himself to the whole castle, he will." She agreed, tugging gently on the gown.

Elwena would hand off the tea to a different servant. If the queen wanted more, it would be offered. Now, unfortunately, was her moment of learning and she would not miss it. Gathering up her skirts, she moved toward the Lady Varana, leaning down beside her with ears ready for any desire, whispering back, though a little louder than the requests, "Do you wish to dress in something a little more suitable for delivery? I am sure I can monitor while you change, M'Lady, if it pleases you." She would, of course, offer this in addition to gathering the requested items. After the answer, however, she'd be off in a flash. It was amazing how fast the woodsling could manage, even under the stress and pressure she felt. The gentle clink of metal could barely be heard, muffled purposely by a cloth. Slpping back to Mereavus, she set the tray on the floor beside them and away from potentially flailing limbs. "Are you sure you want this?" She inquired, pointing to a flask of the requested material. Wena knew what it was, and it was because of that she was a little skeptical. She knew of the properties, but feared the safety for the child. Still, she wasn't arguing with the Advisor, but simply trying to learn why she was so sure of its safety.

Danele Valenti allowed the ladies to undress,then redress her. She had to silently keep talking to herself to keep the fear at bay, but so far, she succeeded. Another pain held her in it's grip for close to twenty seconds before releasing her. Poor Osanna got the brunt of it, for Danele grabbed her hand and squeezed with surprising strength. "Sorry, Osanna," she panted, resting back against the pillows. She took a deep breath, then another and another, preparing for the next one sure to come.

Mereavus' answer was a very firm, "Hang the clothes, I'm not leaving her." Which was rather predictable, but nonetheless, there it was. On the girls return, she glanced down at the tray (hoping she'd not have to use any of the items on it), and then at the flask when it was questioned. "Yes, I'm sure," she answered. "Get a glass of water, half an inch from full, and put three drops - and three drops only - into it. If I give you the word you're to make sure her Majesty drinks all of it, and then you're going to come down this end, and bathe your hands and arms in that solution. Don't rush. It's not worth the mistake." She moved back towards the bed, both hands going beneath the medical gown, one to spread, and the other to slot her middle finger towards the Queen's cervix to test its dilation - personal never quite meant the same.

Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen's reassuring grasp lasted only as long as that pained expression crossed Danele's face, for then he stepped back, fetching another glass of spirits. The women seemed to know what they were doing, and he wanted nothing more than to allow them to their work; he was only getting in the way as close as he was. Backing up to the cabinet, he kept Danele firmly in his sight, sipping from the brandy-glass with shaking fingers.

Osanna hissed as the seemingly doll-like woman positivly crushed her hand, though she quickly offerd a, if pained, reassureing smile. "Tis fine yer highness," Her voice was a little higher there, but hell, she was trying. She glanced over at the disheveld Lady Von Pith and nearly laughed. There she was, the woman the beast had only seen with not a hair out of place, the vision of 'proper', smileing at her, helping with a task normally set to even lower women than Osanna. A calused thumb rubbed over the poor Queen's knuckles. "Let's get these rings off aye? M'lady Von Pith, I'm sure her highness would trust yeh t'take them to th' king fer safe keeping?" The beast, was not going to get herself accused of theivery on top of it all.

Danele Valenti caught her breath as Mere began her examination. Such a shame she was in labor, else she might have enjoyed such an intimate touch. Hell, with everyone present, they could have had one hell of an orgy! Anyways! She gasped in pain, unable to help herself. She was dilating quickly, at least three centimeters by now. At that rate, she would be delivering in the next few hours. Dutifully, she held up her hands, though she wore only one ring on each hand. Her poor fingers had taken to swelling so much that it was all she would allow herself. "Osanna, keep them with you until afterward," she breathed. That said alot for Danele to entrust her with her jewels, one being her beloved wedding set.

Emersyn's deft fingers carefully worked the rings off of Danele's hands as suggested, thinking the idea a good one. No use injuring anying with such finery. Slightly swollen hands made it a bit of a chore, but soon, she deposited them in the King's hand, Emersyn not so willing to do as she was bidden with the jewels. Ears caught the conversation between Elwena and Eave, Em giving them a sharp glance. It was always a concern that the birth would go badly, but at least the woman was prepared for the worst. Sighing, she dragged several seats closer and took one for herself, ready for a long night. There was no way in hell she'd be leaving the Queen's side until the babe screamed his first and was suckling contentedly at his Mama's teat. "Do you have a name picked out, darling?" She asked between pains, hoping to distract the woman.

Elwena frowned and nodded, getting that 'physician glare' Mere teased her about as she carefully added no more than three drops. As she looked up to catch sight of the Queen she happened across the sharp glance from Em. It was all she could do to twitch a reassuring smile. It seemed, as a team, they were all in good hands with one another. Nod was offered to Mereavus to let her know she had heard her orders. The poor King was also given soft words, "You are a very lucking King, you Majesty. He will be a wonderful son with all the love that is surrounding him at this moment."

(Ended for the night)

(The next day)

Danele Valenti: It was the next morning. The day outside was warm, the sun had risen in a myriad of beautiful colors, and the foilage surrounding the palace was in full bloom. Beautiful, it all was. If only the scene inside the castle was the same. The Queen had labored throughout the night, under the watchful eye of her ladies, and still, the babe had yet to be born. Her cries of pain had echoed through the halls as the contractions threatened to tear her in two, but still, she seemed no closer to bringing her son into the world. Rumors of what had happened had not taken long to circulate through the palace, and then the village. Lord and Ladies, peasants and servants, had all begun to keep vigil outside of the castle walls, hoping for the best, but waiting for the worst. Even Danele began to wonder if her son would take his first breath. She was weak, hair hanging in damp tendrils around her shoulders from the constant perspiration of her efforts. Though her water had broken long ago, and the contractions grew harder and stronger, the babe did not want to come. There was something wrong. She knew it, and she knew that these few moments could very well be her last. Under such strain, her strength was deteriorating.

Mereavus was, by this point, quite exhausted herself - she'd attempted everything that was in her knowledge to induce the child into making his way out. She'd managed to prevent a bout of bleeding, remaining stained from it herself, but it seemed to be her only success other than dragging Danele through it with as many harmless painkillers as she and Elwena could muster, along with anything that might possibly induce proper birth. By morning, she'd begun eyeing the tray Elwena had brought her, considering the option. He had to come out. She might well have to cut her Queen open, or lose them both. But the risk it posed didn't fill her with anything but dread. She went entirely thoughtless as to what stress and exhaustion might do to her own condition, given that she'd forgotten it entirely and was only focused on Danele. "If he's not here in half an hour we're going to need to administer that oret, Elwena," she murmured, relatively wearily. Ordinarily perfect visage certainly wasn't so now. Blood smudge on her cheek, long since dried, curls rebelling from her clip, no apparent care as to what the shock of red on white apron and shirt, and skin, looked like.

Elwena was quite the little lamb throughout the process and though she was tired, she was quick to have cool tea brought to the laborers by servants, to take care of Mere by dabbing any sweat from her brow and taking over anywhere she needed to (though probably wasn't much considering Mere was locked hard to the Queen). "I understand." She frowned a little, peering between the Queen's legs as she shook her head, "Back in a farm I had to sever the flesh between a cow's, erm," She pointed to the rectum, and then the vagina, "To make room. Do you think that would be more wise and safe? How far along is the Prince?" She asked, looking to where Mere was. There was a touch of tiredness in her voice, but sheer calmness over took the heavy-lidded girl as bare feet pressed harder into the ground, knees to follow, peering between royal legs in only the humblest fashion.

Danele Valenti writhed upon the pillows as another contraction took hold. Though Emersyn was there, talking her through it and stroking her brow, it still sent waves of pain radiating through her entire being. She felt raw, bruised, and like she had been turned inside out repeatedly. Once it passed, she collapsed against the Lady Von Pith's breasts, panting. Through her haze, she heard Eave speaking with Elwena. It did not take a brain scientist to know what they were speaking of. Instantly, the Queen's fuzy mind came into focus. "If it is between my babe and me, you save him, Eave." Her voice was hoarse from the screams constantly tearing from her throat. Thank God Wyld was not present. Emersyn had made him leave when it seemed he was about to fall over from worry and exhaustion.

(19:50) Mereavus shook her head some at Elwena's suggestion. "No," she answered, testing post-contraction with one hand. "He's nowhere near far enough for that. Cut-and-stitch is a relatively common procedure but useless to us for the time being. He just isn't coming. I suspect he's not turned properly, but..." She spread her bloody hands some. "There's no way for me to find that out. If he's not coming on his own then..." She paused, sighing and looking directly at the tray, hands placed on the bedstead. "Then I have to take him out." She looked up when Danele addressed her, expression setting some. "I'm not losing either of you," she answered. The clarity in her tone was both to assure the Queen and herself - the Advisor wasn't entirely sure she was equipped to live with knowing she'd not managed to save either one of them.

Wyld Valenti had indeed stepped out for some much-needed air, more for his slight hangover than the sight of his wife in pain. He was concerned for her, to be sure, but he worried over the child in her belly even more, and he was inside the infirmary once again by the time she affirmed the wish to save his as-yet-unborn son. Still, Wyld remained out of sight and out of the way, his hopes and fears colliding to keep him inching toward the drink bottle.

Elwena cleared her throat, looking up as the Queen yelled. Her mouth opened to say something, almost like she wanted to plead with the woman, but she couldn't find any sound to squeak. She gave her a small smile as if to say she hoped it wouldn't have to come down to that decision. Eyes went back down and a thought struck the young girl, "Sometiems a calf can get turned a strange way and someone has to reach inside and turn it. Obviously her majesty is no barn animal," She said tenderly, "but if I could try and feel it might give us a clue, then you would know what to do, M'Lady." She offered gently, "And then perhaps less worry and more pride could help your worried brow." Wena did care for the entire crew, but at the moment, her largest connection was with the statuesque woman and seeing her in such distress ripped her to shreds. Couple that with a screaming Queen who wanted her son to live over herself and a tear could be seen trickling down her sunkissed cheek.

Garnett's interview with Silas had left her only slightly less troubled. The babe lived. It was something different that had happened then, of that much she was sure. In her travels, she'd found more women than she would have guessed had experienced such a thing, and the herbwomen of Leugeilean knew the phenomena. The result was always the same: instant death of the child. But what had happened? Garnett had hidden herself in the far private garden, her silent prayers having drifted from the approved deity of Nharati to those of her childhood, but here ...in this place, in His place..they would not come though she begged for guidance or perhaps simply for peace. As much as she adored her husband and and her family, she was beginning to hate this place, the poison of it. A sudden and familiar chill, so out of place in the sunny garden, spilled over her, and she froze. "No..please, no." But the ghostly tendril that touched her hair was gentle, somehow soothing, and she lifted her eyes. Before her stood a fade, a woman, regal and worried all at once, the impressions flooding her mind. She was the bride of Tyltin, long dead at his hand, and she meant no harm. Along with that knowledge came the information that Tyltin truly was gone from them, terrified to see events repeating themselves, Garnett struggling to process it all. More flooded her in an instant, the argument, the discussion finished in moments, and the young princess emerged stone-faced and paper white from the garden, moving as silently as a ghost herself. Garnett crept up to the infirmary, the cold pit of terror that gripped her buried beneath the necessity of her action. A silent wave of her hand left her guards outside the door, and now dry haunted eyes took in the room. For a long moment, they lingered on the struggling Queen, her fingers drifting reassuringly over the King's arm as she passed. "I will do it, Elwena." Her voice seemed to come from the depths of a well, movements slow and trancelike, gaze focusing on some distant point for a moment. "May I examine her, please?" A question perhaps, but the tone was closer to a demand, softspoken as it was.

Danele Valenti did not reply to Mereavus, but it was clear that she was already convinced that one or the other would not make it. If she had anything to do with it, it would her. They thought the babe was turned wrong. Danele was convinced the ghostly hands that had sunk into her belly had damaged her. Another searing pain gripped her, sending her arching off of the bed with a weak cry. God, how much more could she take? Tears began to stream from the corners of her eyes. It was not the first time since she had started laboring, and would not be the last. "I c-can't..." she gasped. "I can't take it anymore..." Garnett's arrival went unnoticed in the midst of yet another contraction.

Mereavus would've been more grudging to give up her position, were it not for Danele's emotional beginning of descending into despair, so she moved with unhesitating surrender. She seated herself on the bed next to her Queen, reaching for a cloth to cover her hand so that she didn't smudge blood all over her cheek when she moved to touch it and draw it towards her direction. "Darling, don't," she murmured, bending so that Danele didn't have much choice but to look at her. "You can. Just a little longer. Trust me, my darling. You have done for twelve years, trust me now. You're Danele. You don't run out of strength. Don't give up on us." She smiled a little, although it came with slightly welled up russets. "It's over when you give up. And I'm not letting you make it over."

Elwena turned her head to see Garnett glide into the room and, taking a soft bow, she moved from her place. "Please, Princess, I am here should I be....needed." She smiled lightly for a moment, though her lips quivered. There were a lot of thoughts going through her head at the moment, but when she turned to look at Mere, she straightened her back a little. "M'Lady." She smiled, beckoning a waiting servant over and taking a cup of tea from her, "Please." She whispered, setting it down beside her before Elwena would return to the foot of the bed. She was not going to pass up a learning experience and she needed to be there. Or did she? Biting her lip, she fought back the thoughts of her usefulness. The wild haired woodsling dipped down to see what Garnett was going to do, and how she would do it.

Garnett snapped from her trance at the sound of Danele's despair. "Yes, you can." Teeth clicked together as she glared down at the woman on the bed. "You wouldn't let me give up, and you can be bloody sure that I won't let you. Who else would pour brandy on Uhtred when he's being stubborn?" A fierce angry smile flashed over her lips, and she swung into motion, rolling her sleeves up and donning a headkerchief to keep her wild lock from tumbling into her face. Water splashed as she scrubbed her hands and arms, and with it the memories that she'd long forgotten flooded her mind. "Keep talking to Lady Mereavus, Mother. She speaks sense." Crouching, she nodded at Elwena and murmured her quiet appreciation for the assistance. "And I need you not to push, Mother, just breathe for me.." Her eyes burrowed into Mere, making sure she heard her, and the princess herself took another deep breath as she stared at the sight, distancing herself from it. It wasn't Danele her hand was approaching, just meat..that was all. Blood painted her slender white fingers, Garnett slowly easing her hand up within the woman without so much as a shudder.

Danele Valenti turned glassy gaze up to Mereavus. "I'm tired, Eave. I am so damned tired." Her voice was a mere whisper of sound, punctuated with a soft whimper. She clutched the woman's hand, unaware Wyld had returned. A part of her was glad to think he was gone from the room. He would not see her weakness. Then, Garnett was there. Danele frowned. When had she arrived? And she was speaking with a firmness that could rival the Queen, herself. Elwena stood closeby, being the quiet support of all. Between the three, her babe would be born, one way or another. For some reason, that thought lent her the confidence she needed. "A-Alright..." Teeth sank into her bottom lip when Garnett began to insert her hand within her womb. A sword being sid between her thighs could have hurt no worse. It took everything in Danele not to bear down, even as another scream tore from her.

Mereavus nodded a little at the admission of being tired, nodding a little - and very deliberately following up with personal words she was sure Danele would remember. "Yes," she acknowledged. "But I won't forgive you, if you give up on me." And she could only hope it carried the same weight for Danele as it had for her. She drew the hand towards her chest, placing it over her sternum. "Breathe with me," she murmured. After the scream, she repeated it, and then smiled slightly. "You'll have your revenge in eight months, you know," she murmured, attempting to give Danele yet another reason to carry on with regathering her strength. "It'll be you sat trying to persuade me that it's not so bad, and you can be smug in knowing I'll know how it feels." And there. The first proper confession that she was carrying herself - and she didn't really care who else heard it, at present. Her world was laid right in front of her.

Elwena watched with interest, nodding at the way Garnett moved her hands. She knew how to do it to stock, but to a human? This was certainly a breakthrough. She moved to grab another towel, slipping the blood drenched one out from below the Queen's snootch (sorry, vocab block) and replacing it with a new one. "You made it look quite simple." She smiled, encouraging words for probably the entire room except possibly the Queen herself who had been racked with screams. "Your baby is in good hands, my Queen." She looked to Garnett's face, looking for a sign, anything, that the child was about to come out. She hoped that was all it took to figure out what was wrong and, in that same hope, could not wait for when the ordeal for the poor unborn was over.

Wyld Valenti occasionally looked over the shoulders of Mereavus or Elwena, in hopes of offering a word of encouragement, but every time he saw that look of anguish on Danele's face or heard her pained cry, he gulped another shot of scotch. Before long his hangover was gone, supplanted by a wave of drunkenness that had him casually observing. Oddly enough his stomach was stronger under the influence, his heart calmer, his ears less perceptible to those piercing cries.

Garnett ignored the scream. It belong to something else, far from here, definitely not Danele. The conversation whirled around her, Garnett barely listening though she managed to nod at the apothecary's encouraging words. Her concentration focused on what she could feel though, her eyes closing as a song drifted from her lips. Her native tongue, a birthing song she'd learned and forgotten that she'd learned, a prayer in that tongue though here the gods wouldn't listen, but it focused her and might would help the babe. Sensitive fingers found the babe's rump, feeling its legs twisted upward as she'd expected. "Breeched." She whispered as low as she could to Elwena. And too far down to be cut out without permanent harm to Danele. Raising her voice, she spoke to the Queen and the Advisor, pasting a smile on her lips. "He's just mixed up, Mother, but I'll set him straight. The next contraction, don't push again." Her hand struggled to get a strong grip on his hip, waiting for the next wave to nearly crush her hand before she twisted the babe with all the strength she could manage, forcing one of his hips forward, the strange soothing song trickling from her all the while.

Danele Valenti remembered the words the Advisor said all too well. They had fallen from her lips to Eave when she would have given up so long ago. A wave of warmth swept through her. "I-I... wouldn't dare, Eave." Pain was momentarily forgotten in light of the news of Mere's opwn pregnancy. For the first time in hours, a smile actually curved Danele's lips. "H-Have a daughter to marry my s-son.." she grunted. She attempted to breathe as she was being commanded, by damn, having a hand, even a petite one, reaching inside of you was agony. She tried to stay focused, eyes settling on Garnett. So, the babe was turned. "Garnett..." she gasped, another contraction rolling over her. "Do not allow the King to ever touch me again....!" Gotta love statements punctuated with short screams.

Mereavus laughed a little at the series of comments, shaking her head some. "Something tells me that if Garnett actually followed that command, darling, you'd hate her for it after a month or two." She paused, inclining her head in afterthought. "Or perhaps less." Not above teasing her, if she was going to be humorous and distract herself. She glanced down to Garnett, and then returned her gaze to Danele. "That, and I'm not sure that all of us put together could stand between your husband and you if he got it into his head that he wanted you. He does love you an awful lot." Very deliberately throwing that in - reminding her of stronger bonds seemed the best way to keep her spirits, therefore strength, up.

Garnett thought her hand would break when the contraction broke over Danele again, lips pulled back in a pained snarl, her fingers threatening to slip off the babe. Blocking out the pain, which she was certain was far less than Danele's, she gripped the infant tightly. "I'd just like to see me manage that, Mother." She chuckled, trying to sound more amused than she really was, her Nharatese heavily accented with the liquid syllables of her native tongue. She blinked at the sound of it, her next coming more clearly. "On the next one, Lady Mereavus, Elwena, anyone else who can fit..push on the top of her stomach toward me. Help her. I don't care if your wrists break." Jade eyes focused relentlessly on the Queen. "And you, push. One or two more, and I'll have him. I promise." Certainty that she didn't feel laced her voice, eyes locking on Danele intently.

Osanna returned with yet another kettel of water barefeet slapping the wooden floor as she hurried back into the room. Thoes stork's legs of her's were paying off tonight, as she exchanged the blood filled basin with fresh, steaming water. "Yeh kin do this M'lady, listen t'th girl," She panted, shoveing her dampend sleeves up to retreive more towels. There was so much blood.....

Danele Valenti almost roared as she nearly came off the bed again. Poor Eave's hand was sure to be bruised before it was all over with. "I do not care! I will post guards around me at all hours!" Like even that would keep Wyld away. Of course, it was the pain and exhaustion talking, but in the midst of searing pain, anything was liable to come out of her mouth. "He.. is .. not.... touching me!" Then, as she went limp against the pillows once more, she panted heavily. "He does love me, doesn't he? He is my heart. Where is he?" Now, that was an about face if anyone had ever seen it. Her gaze drifted back to Garnett, and then Osanna. There was such a tone in Garnett's voice that she had no choice but to believe her. "I will name him after you.." She tried to tease. The fact that she moaned completely ruined the moment, dammit all.

Mereavus' free arm reached south, spanning over the top of Danele's stomach and beginning to apply pressure slowly, until her entire arm strained - it was an arm capable of firing a man's bow and controlling a man's horse, so Garnett could be sure that there was certainly enough pressure being applied from that end. "He's here, darling," she answered. "He's being wise and leaving the entire messy business to us. I will berate him for my bruised hand afterwards, be sure of it. You know how horribly vain I am with them." She flicked her eyes between Danele and the stomach alternately, bicep and tricep beginning to quiver with the pressure, but not waning in their press. "Do you hear that, darling? A few more and you'll have him."

Elwena was doing her absolute best to stifle giggles as the Queen yelled about her husband, hurrying from the side and up to the protruding belly where she took position opposite of Mere, "Just think, my Queen, after all of this I will bring you fresh morning strawberries to nibble on while you hold your child. It will be wonderful, and you do not even have to share with the king." She winked softly. Taking a deep breath, she began to press down on the topmost portion of the stomach with all her little strength which, for such a small girl, could be quite a good amount. "And then," She breathed out, feeling the wash of tiredness coming over her in that instance, "Y-You'll get to share strawberries with the new Prince!"

Garnett watched the women get into position, nodding slowly as time stretched out before her. The effect of the pressure was immediate, the babe beginning to shift downward, and her teeth set as she pulled on the infant's hip, mentally apologizing for any scratches or bruises she left ..the damn thing was so slippery with blood. The fierceness of her tug had the babe deep in the birth canal, something oddly comforting in the servant woman's encouragement that pressed her onward. Without realizing it, once the contraction died off, she counted the seconds in her head, ready the instant she felt the next crushing press of muscles. A great cry erupted from her as she jerked with all her strength, nearly tumbling backward and indeed tearing the poor Queen a bit. With disbelief, she stared at the red thing in her hand, her second suddenly joining to cradle him as her fingers dove for his mouth, cleaning it out so he could breathe, his tiny chest quivering. He struggled, the girl bending to give a small puff of breath into his mouth, and before she'd finished a squall that drowned out his mother erupted through the room, Garnett beginning to shake with hysterical laughter, the princess utterly covered in blood.

Wyld Valenti was sitting in the back, listening to the cacophony of screaming and muttered commands, though he'd stopped drinking before the blackness crept up on him. Things were a rather lovely buzz, though. All of a sudden, after gruelling hours of struggle, he heard a sound that tore his heart into his throat: a high, strong squeal of a scream that blanketed the walls with a reverberating din. The King was on his feet instantly, and though he woozed, he stumbled up to the bedside.

Danele Valenti gritted her teeth, feeling another contraction begin to sweep over her. That, coupled with the pressure now being placed on her abdomen, was searing agony. She would have sighed with relief were she able at news it would all soon be over. "D-Diamonds.." she grated. "I had best get... diamonds... for his son.." Anyone who knew Danele knew jewelry was the last thing she ever required for anything. "And berate h-him loudly, E-Eave..." Strawberries. Elwena was mentioning strawberries, and telling her she did not have to share. "But-" She stifled another cry. "But he l-loves me to.. feed them-" She grunted harshly. "-to h-him..." Didn't he? He loved for her to hand feed him many things. Did he even like strawberries? Before she could come up with an answer, Osanna was encouraging her, and another contraction was hitting her. With a burst of strength she did not think she could possess, she lifted her torso from the bed, almost sitting up, and screamed as if her entire body was coming apart. Her belly visibly rippled, and suddenly, went down as the babe was pulled free from it's warm cocoon. She fell back to the pillows with a sob, panting. Then, she heard the most beautiful sound a mother could hear. The scream of outraged infancy echoed off the walls. Danele struggled up onto her elbows, and oh, what a glorious sight met her eyes. Her son was squirming in Garnett's hands, flailing tiny fists and feet in righteous anger. Tears sprang to her eyes and spilled over as joyous laughter joined Garnett's. He was alive. Her son was alive...

Mereavus rose and departed to make way for the King when that squeal sounded, though not without planting a light kiss atop the Queen's head, disentangling her hand, and heading down to the bottom of the bed. She passed the child a small glance, and smiled quite brightly; another Prince. She reached one hand to the tray and removed one of the slender knives from it, turning and offering it butt-first towards the king. "Perhaps you'd like to cut the cord, your Majesty?" she enquired, reasoning that it was one of those things parents liked to do, and it solidified some sort of paternal bond that the father had a hand in the birth - as well as seed in the creation. Danele would require stitching back up, and then she could depart and sleep. Much needed sleep.

Wyld Valenti blinked once, twice, and then thrice to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him; but no, there in Garnett's bloodstained arms lay the squalling boy, as strong and beautiful as Danele had promised. He didn't have the words to express how he felt. Mereavus' words took him by surprise and he flinched, taking his eyes from the child and locking his gaze on the slender, silver knife. The King hesitated for half a heartbeat before shaking his head. "No...I've drunk too much. I'm afraid to hold him, much less wield a knife around him."

Elwena shook her head and whispered, "Shhhh, shhh." Poor Danele! Head turned when the hysterical laughter rang out and a bit of concern crossed her features. Moving to the end of the bed and toward the screaming baby, she'd pluck up a few more towels, opening them up across your arms, "Princess Garnett." She'd state, hoping the dear wasn't going mad. Afterall, Elwena barely knew of this girl's past, "Would you like me to take the child and clean him up, get him in a new blanket, and I'll have you bring him up?" She nodded to the knife the king weilded, "Perhaps the Lady's guiding hand might suffice, you Majesty?" If Garnett was not willing to hand the baby over for cleaning, Wena was there to assist at the very least.

Osanna couldn't help but smile as the child's outraged mewling filled the room. There he was, in Garnett's tiney hands, beautiful in the way that only newborns are beautiful, a symbol of life and harmony. She caught the king's elbow as he staggerd, steading the huge man with strong hands. "Careful there yer drunken magisty," She grumbled, pale green eyes misty on the newboren. Strong set of lungs, flailing fists and feet.... Once the man wasn't in danger of toppeling over, the beast pulled the low stool over for the king to sit with his newest heir and his greatest love before she busseld off to retreive a clean linnen blanket for the child. It wasn't over yet, but if only this molment could last forever.