Ella awoke to find herself in bed, eyes staring at the roof. She had saved herself from killing Prince Charmont but eight months before and, not long after, had become pregnant. The two of them were hopeful that if it were a boy, he would be handsome, and if it were a girl, she would be beautiful. But, the two could only hope.

She stood up, and felt the foetus inside her kick. "Ugh!" she groaned. Char was always in the throne room, receiving messages from different countries and towns so he never witnessed the child in action. However, Ella made sure to describe the magnificent feeling which washed over her every time. She would say: "He's strong," or "He's playful," or even "He's strong-willed" and Char would grin enchantingly.

"Just a little while longer, young one," Ella murmured, smoothing down her nightgown over the bulging bump which protruded from her body and made it difficult to move without losing her balance. "You're only seven and a bit months old. Just wait about two more months, okay?"

But she knew that the foetus would not happily wait a few months more, he would soon be kicking and punching away, demanding to be released. Sighing, she waddled over to her closet and opened the door, panting at the effort and laughing softly.

"Why, look at me," she chuckled. "I used to have to go around, listening to orders like an obedient puppy, and now I'm waddling around doing what I want." Ella grunted as the foetus gave another kick and then giggled. "Well, not without listening to orders." She traced a finger over her belly, drawing a pattern as she searched for a large dress to wear comfortably. "I can't image Hattie or Olive liking pregnancy. They'd squeeze into any old tight dress despite the roundness."

As if in agreement, the foetus gave a slightly softer punch. Mind you, it still hurt.