Summary: Eva and Leopold have tried to have a baby for years. A daughter is finally born, but she is very sick. With no other way to help her baby, Eva turns to magic for aid.

More Details: Rated teen for mentions of death and misscarriages. Oneshot.

Other Characters: besides the three tagged, there is also baby Snow White and Johanna (Snow's maid seen in season two.)

Check the end for more notes.

"There's nothing else we can do."

She had heard those words far too many times, and yet, they still struck her to her core. The queen looked away from the healer, instead focusing her attention on the tiny being in her arms. "Then leave," she insisted, tears forming in her eyes.

Eva knew they obeyed her, but she didn't hear them leave. She didn't see their bowed heads or teary eyes as they departed, feeling defeated. Eva had attention only for the too quiet, too pale infant in her arms.

It wasn't supposed to go this way this time! It had started off so promising. Eva had been more careful than ever before. Her diet had been strictly monitored. She'd stayed in the castle, and then in bed, longing to move around and do things but not wanting to ruin her child's chances for life. None of the other babies had made it this far. She had been so close. Eva had been certain that this time, she'd done enough to protect her child. But apparently, even her best wasn't quite enough.

The little newborn should be screeching for food or to hear her mother's heartbeat. Instead, she was struggling to breathe. The healers couldn't help her. They'd gotten so close … but not close enough.

"I'm so sorry, little one," Eva whispered, tears trailing down her cheeks as she held the little girl close to her chest. "I'm so sorry."

She'd wanted so much more for her child. So had Leopold. They were both at the point where they could care less what gender the baby was, or which parent they looked most like. Any child would be beautiful, perfect; all they wanted was a child that could survive.

If only Leopold was here! He would hold her, comfort her, like he had all the other times. He never blamed her for the miscarriages. In fact, he seemed to blame himself sometimes. Leopold had been just as hopeful about this child as she had. They had refused to even think of names, not wanting to jinx it. If he was here, he would say there was nothing they could have done differently. They'd done their best, and it wasn't enough.

But Eva didn't want to believe it. Here she was, a child born only a few weeks early, and she was fighting! The doctors couldn't do anything more, but why should she give up now? She couldn't stop fighting for her baby.

Besides, she put more stock in the old stories than her husband did. He always said that magic was too dangerous to dabble in … but if it was for their daughter, why not try?

Eva slipped out of the bed, walking slowly as she carried her little one toward the window. In her country, they had a story. If you wished upon the right star, and were lucky enough, an ancient, powerful being would appear to grant your wish.

Eva didn't know if it was true. She had tried wishing before as a girl, but it had always been for foolish things, like extra presents at her birthday or for someone she was fighting with to see things her way. None of the wishes were worthy of a powerful being's attention … but this was different.

Eva looked at the tiny infant in her arms. A mother wishing for the life of her daughter had to be a wish worthy of granting. She looked up in the sky, searching for the star she had wished upon as a child.

"I wish … I wish for help. I wish for the health of my daughter." Her words were strained. She was exhausted from the labor of giving birth, and she was filled with so much sorrow that she felt broken. It took every ounce of her strength to utter her desire.

She stared at the star for a moment, only for her hope to waver. Eva looked back to the child in her arms, tears forming again. Either her wish wasn't strong enough, or this was all a myth. She gently rocked the gasping infant, tears trickling down her face again. "I'm so sorry, my daughter."

Eva closed her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears. When she opened them again, she noticed a soft, blue light. She started looking around for the source, eyes wide as her attention went toward the star she'd wished on. Something was coming! She took a step back from the window, letting the glowing blue light grow closer.

The stories about wishing upon a star were true after all. Before her was a small, blue fairy. She seemed beautiful and elegant, but most importantly, her appearance gave Eva a jolt of hope that she thought she'd lost forever.

"I hear your wish," the fairy said in soft, soothing tones. Eva had never felt more relieved in her entire life. Not only was it true that you could wish upon a star to receive help, but the help was a fairy! She had heard of fairies before. They weren't supposed to use the dark, corrupting magic her husband seemed so worried about. Their magic was good.

Eva offered a weak, but hopeful smile to the powerful fairy. "Can you grant it? Can you save my daughter?"

The fairy flew closer, studying the infant with gentle eyes. "Yes. I can grant it."

But she had hesitated. She'd had to stare at Snow for a moment to make sure, and that moment's pause reminded Eva of something that was said of magic, everywhere. Good or bad, all magic came with a price. "What do I have to pay? I'll pay anything. I know all magic comes at a cost." Eva would give her own life for her child's at this point. Anything to ensure her daughter got to live.

The fairy looked up at her, shaking her small head as she hovered near the mother and child. "You don't need to pay anything." She was reaching into a pouch near her waist for something. She must have the cure she needed with her! "All magic comes with a price. But this is a price the fairies will pay." She pulled out something from that little blue pouch. Eva leaned closer, trying to see what it was. It was even smaller than the fairy …

The blue being held out her, hands, showing it to the queen. "Fairy dust is a very powerful magic, but it is also very limited. We can only do so much with it," she explained, as she moved even closer to Eva's newborn. "That is why we usually reserve it for children who are in desperate need. Like your daughter."

Eva watched in awe as dust was sprinkled over her baby. For a moment, she wasn't sure anything had changed. Her heart dropped. If this didn't work …

Before her thoughts could spiral too far, a loud shriek echoed throughout the room. Eva's little girl finally had enough strength to cry.

Tears formed again at her eyes, but this time they were tears of pure joy. Eva stared at the beautiful child in her arms. She didn't look deathly white anymore. Her cheeks were a healthy pink. It was a miracle …

But it wasn't, really. It was magic. Eva rocked her baby soothingly in her arms but looked back to the fairy. She was smiling at Eva's child, obviously overjoyed by the results as well. The young princess would live, all thanks to the fairy's aid.

"Thank you," Eva spoke over the loud complaints of the infant. "Oh, thank you. Thank you." She couldn't help but repeat herself over and over. Without this fairy's help, Eva would have lost another child tonight. And Eva didn't even have to pay anything for the wonderful magic that had saved her child.

"What's your name," she said suddenly. "I want to know the name of the person who saved my child."

The fairy looked a bit surprised by the request. She paused a moment, obviously gathering her thoughts. "I have gone by many names. You might know me by Ruel Ghorm. But lately I have preferred to simply go by Blue."

Eva had heard of Ruel Ghorm. But that being was supposed to be dangerous. Magical, and able to help, but also scary to some degree. Obviously, the fear had just come from the unknown, and so few people seeing this fairy. There was nothing scary about Blue. No wonder she wanted to go by another name now, since her old one had become feared, and she was no one to be afraid of.

"Thank you so much Blue. I know you said that there is no price for this, but I will always feel indebted to you."

The fairy shook her head emphatically. "I am a fairy godmother. It's my job to help young children like your daughter. You don't owe me anything."

Eva frowned, but was forced to turn her attention back to her daughter at an especially loud shriek. Eva had thought perhaps just being held would be enough to calm her, but obviously the little princess was demanding more.

Blue flew a little closer at the louder cry and tilted her head slightly. "I think the little one is hungry."

Eva moved back toward her huge bed, adjusting her slip of a dress so that her baby could reach her breasts. Sure enough, it wasn't long before the young princess was happily sucking, content to be fed.

The queen leaned back on a pillow, watching her little one and blinking slowly. Her sorrow, and then joy, had been keeping her awake, but giving birth and worrying about the life of a newborn were very draining things to experience. She felt exhausted.

A little voice spoke up, reminding Eva that the gentle fairy was still in the room. "I should leave now, Queen Eva. You need to rest and take care of your daughter." Even her voice sounded magical.

She started to fly toward the window, but Eva didn't want her to leave. Not quite yet. "No wait!" Blue paused, turning back around. "It doesn't feel right. You saved my daughter's life, and now … won't I ever see you again? I want to be able to thank you." It almost felt to Eva like she was taking advantage of this fairy. She'd asked her to come at her most desperate time, but if she never saw the fairy again, it would just seem unfair. Unbalanced. "You are magical. I'm not … but surely there's something I could do to show my thanks."

Blue hovered in the middle of the room, and slowly made her way closer. "Well, I am a very busy fairy. I have lots of children to help," she explained gently. She seemed like she had made up her mind on something, but when her eyes fell on the baby, her gaze softened. "Perhaps I could come by from time to time. Fairy godmothers don't get much time to relax. Perhaps you could thank me with friendship."

A huge smile spread across Eva's face. She nodded. "I would like that."

There wasn't much more left to say. The fairy didn't linger much longer. Soon, she left mother and daughter alone. Eva was content knowing she'd see the fairy again. She wasn't quite sure friendship was enough to repay Blue for saving her daughter, but it was something at least.

She watched as the little princess ate, and when she was done, she shifted the princess in her arms. The little one yawned. Her eyes were closed. The room was quiet, but not the desperate quiet only broken by an infant's pained gasps. It was peaceful.

There was a large, ornate crib near Eva's bed, waiting for the baby to sleep in. And yet, Eva didn't want to let her go. Her baby was alive. She'd come back to her! Eva kept the little one resting on her chest, holding her gently but securely. Her eyes started to drift closed. She lay back further on the pillow and moved others to ensure her child couldn't roll off. That was all she really had time to do before sleep overtook her.

He hadn't meant to be gone so long. He was supposed to be back three days ago! Leaving at all this far into his wife's pregnancy had made Leopold nervous and antsy. If it hadn't been absolutely necessary to meet with their allies, he would have put it off until after Eva gave birth. But King George was always persistent, and his armies were far bigger than Leopold's. He hadn't wanted to risk a war. So, he'd met with George, and everything had taken far longer than it should have because George was a stubborn man.

But he was still getting back three weeks before Eva was due. He had to hope nothing had happened in his absence …

His hopes were dashed instantly. It wasn't just the stable boys that greeted the king and his party, but the healer as well. He didn't even need to speak. The pain all over his face was enough to tell Leopold they had lost their child. Again.

He dismounted slowly, letting his feet thud into the ground. He wanted to let his entire body collapse into the dirt, but he had to remain strong. He was the king. This is what they expected of him. "Is Eva …" he trailed off, not even wanting to finish that terrible thought.

"Your Queen is fine, Your Majesty. It's … just the child."

Just the child. Just the child! The words filled him with anger and pain. They'd tired so hard, they'd wanted for so long. And Leopold had already decided that this was the last time he could do this. He couldn't watch his wife struggle through pregnancy. He couldn't hear, again and again, that the child he'd already started to love was gone. He couldn't put himself or his wife through any more loss. This child was there last. He mourned all of them, every unnamed baby that hadn't even made it close to term. None of them were just a child. They were all his children, all precious life that hadn't made it.

He didn't respond at all to the healer's remark. The man hastened to explain more, obviously feeling the king's raw sorrow. "We heard crying a bit ago. She wanted privacy … but the child … is gone now. I'm sorry my king. She couldn't breathe. There was nothing we could do."

She. He'd almost had a precious little daughter … he shook his head, finally meeting his healer's gaze. "Thank you. For telling me. And for trying." It hadn't been enough, but Leopold couldn't blame the healer for that. It just wasn't meant to be. One of his cousins would end up ruling after him. He would have no children.

Part of him knew he should be rushing up to be with his wife. She would be mourning the little girl that had almost made it. But he didn't feel quite ready to face her yet. He'd let his wife down. He should have been here with her to share in her sorrow. Eva had to face their little one's death alone.

So instead, he quietly headed toward a bench in the garden. His guards followed him, glancing at each other with concerned looks. Leopold knew he should go inside to get away from the winter chill. His wife needed him. His kingdom needed him to be strong. But he needed a moment to compose himself.

As soon as Leopold realized he'd been followed, he shooed the guards away. "Leave me. Please. I'll come in soon. I just … need a moment." They were his bodyguards. He knew they'd be watching from a window to ensure his safety. But at least they listened now, and he could feel he was alone.

Despite the below freezing temperatures, Leopold didn't feel cold. He felt physically numb and mentally drained. It hadn't quite sunk in that he'd lost his chances at being a father. He stared quietly out at the grounds, his eyes catching onto a white flower. Even with the snow, it was growing.

They were called snowdrops. Leopold had always liked them. They were resilient and added beauty to the landscape when everything else was dead or dormant. But he'd never paid them as much mind as he was now. They were so fragile, and yet so resilient … it was then his eyes started to grow blurry from unshed tears. He had hoped his child could be resilient. He had hoped she could grow and flourish even in rough conditions … but she couldn't. And he knew exactly who to blame.

If a flower didn't grow, it didn't have enough to nurture it. Flowers needed care and love. Even the snowdrops needed fertile soil. No one blamed a flower that couldn't thrive. It was the fault of the environment, or the seed.

It was his fault. Deep down, he knew it. There was something wrong with him. It couldn't be Eva. He had no real reason why, but he was certain it was him. It was his fault their child had suffocated to death …

Leopold looked away from the flower, trying to gain his composure. He took deep breaths, and watched his exhales mist the air in the light of the castle windows behind him. He couldn't think like this, not now. Eva needed him. Everyone needed him.

He wiped any bit of moisture from his eyes, finally standing from the bench and squaring his shoulders. His wife would need him tonight. His country would need him tomorrow. This one moment to feel sorry for himself was all he could allow before he had to take care of his people. It was his job, as king, to care for them all. He couldn't let self-pity get in the way of that.

Leopold reentered the castle, and let the guards follow him up to his wife's room. Near the door, there was a group of maids, whispering fiercely.

"I'm telling you, that didn't sound like the Queen! It sounded like a babe," one of them was insisting.

"Johanna, the baby was too weak to cry."

"Since when did an adult cry like that! No, no I think it was the baby."

Leopold cleared his throat, causing the women to jump and turn around to look at him. He hadn't meant to startle them, but they both looked startled, and perhaps ashamed for talking right outside the queen's bedroom. "Johanna was it?" he questioned softly, looking at the maid who believed his daughter had cried. "I … think it was probably wishful thinking. We all wanted a princess." This was hard for the palace staff too, he had to remember. They wanted to know who would rule them once Leopold was unable to continue. Everyone had been hoping for an heir, not just the king and his wife. "We … will all mourn her. It's … not an easy thing." He looked away from the maids, quietly trying to gain his composure again and struggling to. What could he even say to them anyway? He had no hope to offer them. He felt just as lost as they did.

"But, your majesty, it's just that no one's been in to check. That cry sounded like a babe to me." Johanna seemed nervous, like she didn't know if she should be talking that way to a king. But why should he mind? She was trying to be helpful. "What if the baby recovered?"

The healer had told him it was impossible. He knew from experience just how little of a chance his children had of making it. But the hope in her eyes was hard to dash. "Well," he spoke slowly. "I'll go in and see. I'll let you know."

He already knew the answer, but he'd double check. For Johanna. For the kingdom.

Leopold moved closer to the door, and the maids moved aside. He could feel them, and his guards, holding their breath. They were all anxious to hear for certain that the child hadn't made it. He looked back at them, giving them a solemn nod. "Wait here," he ordered.

The room was so quiet when he entered. He gently closed the door behind him and looked for his wife. She was on the bed, sleeping with the infant on her chest. Her arms were around the baby. His wife's chest rose up and down, and the baby was moving too, but he told himself that was just his wife's breaths. She had to be gone.

It was so quiet, so still. It would have seemed almost peaceful if not for the mind-numbing sorrow Leopold felt. She was gone. They'd lost her. He'd lost her. Another little one, dead, all because he had to keep trying to have a child. Why hadn't he given up long ago? She'd had to suffer because he wanted a baby …

He shed his cloak by the door, leaving it on the floor. He didn't want to get cold flecks of melted snow on his wife. Leopold made his way over to the bed, trying not to wake Eva. She needed her sleep.

Instead, he watched them both. His wife looked so exhausted, even in sleep. It was easier to look at her. It was hard to even glance at the baby. But he felt he had to. She'd died in her mother's arms. The least he could do was look at her and share in Eva's pain.

The baby was so tiny. And he was seeing things that weren't there. He'd known he was tired after his meeting with George and grueling ride home, but he hadn't thought he'd hallucinate. She looked like she was breathing, peaceful and content.

It was then that he finally started to cry. His mind was so cruel to play such a trick on him. A small sob escaped his lips as tears started to form in his eyes again.

Eva stirred, and he felt even worse. He hadn't wanted to wake her. "I'm sorry dear. I'm sorry. I should have been here. I should have –"

He stopped speaking as his wife reached for his hand. He gave it to her, still not looking at her or the baby.

"Leo, dear, did you look at her?" She sounded a bit worried … and amused. Amused? Right now? At a time like this?

Leopold stared at her then, frowning slightly. "Yes, but I, well my mind. It's … I thought she was breathing …"

She giggled. Actually giggled. He continued to stare, brow furrowing in confusion. He wiped a few tears from his cheeks with his free hand.

"Leo, darling. That's not a trick."

His heart stopped for a second. He was sure it skipped a beat from pure shock. Leopold's gaze instantly switched to the infant in his wife's arms. She didn't look quite as peaceful now. Her face was scrunched up, as if she wasn't enjoying the interruption of her nap.

He couldn't stop staring. She was a living, breathing, infant …

The tears didn't stop, but they were for a very different reason now. Even with the joy, he still felt hurt, as if his body wasn't quite ready to accept that this was real. She was alive …

He reached out gently to touch her head. She was warm. She was alive!

And she woke up as soon as he touched her. She started crying.

Never in his life had he thought he would laugh at someone crying, and yet here he was. She was crying! She was breathing well enough to scream. Shock and joy drove his laughter.

He looked to Eva as she sat up, pulling the child closer to her chest to try and calm her. "Eva, she's alive! She's really alive! It's a miracle."

He didn't notice the way his wife paused. He had eyes only for his daughter in that moment. His precious girl was screaming. "Yes, a miracle." Her tone was different than her husband's. After all, she knew it was more than a miracle. But Leopold didn't pick up on the subtle clue. He was too focused on their little one.

Eva rocked the child in her arms, and slowly the baby quieted, still looking uneasy in her mother's arms. The queen made sure to speak quietly so as not to disturb her. "Why would you think she was dead already? They didn't check on me since I asked them to leave."

Leopold started chuckling again. Johanna had been right after all. "When the baby started crying, they all thought it was you. They thought she … they didn't believe it could have been her. One of the maids knew, but the rest them; we were all too afraid to hope, I suppose."

She looked so fussy, but she was strong. She had made it; she was resilient.

Leopold sat down on the side of the bed, watching his wife hold their daughter. Part of him wanted to hold her as well, but another part just wanted to watch his wife hold her forever. "Is it too early for names? I think she'll make it."

Eva looked at him with a tired but joyful smile on her face. "Oh, that means you already have an idea. Let's hear it."

"Snowdrop. Like the flowers. I was looking at them before coming to see you and … she's like them. Small, fragile … but resilient."

Eva frowned, and slowly shook her head. "Compromise? Can we just name her Snow? Snowdrop sounds, well unflattering."

"Hmm." He sat back, looking at his little girl. Snow didn't seem quite right. "How about Snow White?" It just felt like she needed a bit more to her name. Snow was white, but it signified more than the color of frozen water. The flowers were white as well.

"Alright. Snow White it is."

"Our little Snow White," he whispered, watching her relax in her mother's arms. "She's so beautiful." She'd made it. Their little Snow had made it.

Eva nodded with a smile. "She's the most beautiful thing in the world."

Both parents watched their little girl quietly. Eventually, they drifted off. Snow was once again on her mother's chest, but Leopold was close by, cradling his wife's head with one arm, and his body was close enough to her that if Snow rolled off, she'd roll into him.

It would be hours later when someone would come to check on them and then spread the good news that the royal princess had survived. It would be weeks before Johanna stopped talking about how easy it was to tell the difference between a child crying and a woman's sobs. It would be months before the new parents got tired of their child's loud, life-filled cries. But one thing would never change. No matter what, they would be forever grateful for their little one, and they would love her with all their heart, until they took their last breaths.

Author's Note: This was originally inspired by episode 15 of season 2, "The Queen is Dead." That episode reveals that Eva knew the Blue Fairy, but doesn't explain how. This is my take on how they knew each other. I also wanted to use this fic to explore more of Leopold and Eva's characters, like how they act around each other and how they would interact with their daughter. This is my take on Snow White's birth. I hope you enjoyed it! Or cried your heart out. Both reactions are fantastic in an author's mind.