On after another, the Hollowmen vanquished. Making Sparrows jump unhurt, was lucky, but the labour pains were worse now. Bloodstone wasn't far, but it was nearly nightfall now. In the midst of running, she noticed another load of Hollowmen were now rushing toward her, but she didn't stop. She had made it to Broms grave, when the first one shot at her and missed. She wielded her sword in one hand and clutched her pistol in the other, slowly but surely she had less and less Hollowmen to worry about. The rest were farther away, so she had time to gather her strength for a moment before fighting again.
She gathered her skirts, and cursed at the fact that she didn't think to wear trousers. Sparrow reached the ruins of an old home that presumably used to be a nursery, when she was faced with the remaining beasts. With the last of them down, She realised the only things lighting her path were the moon and stars. Nearly falling at the next contraction, she held on to a pillar in time and leaned against it for support. It was then that she realised just how exhausted she was and the pains of labour became even more apparent than before. Sparrow knew she couldn't stay there, but she was too tired to go on.
Sparrow was catching her breath, when a Hollowman she failed to see before, advanced on her from the nursery and struck her from behind. Caught off guard, Sparrow fell, dropping her weapons. She tried to get up, but the creature wasted no time and struck her again. Blood dripped from her nose, or mouth, she couldn't tell at this point. Had the blows not been to the head, she may have quickly taken control again, but it was too late then. She closed her eyes, preparing for the worst, when she heard a shot. Except, she wasn't on the receiving end. Confused but relieved, Sparrow looked up to see the profile of a soldier, walking towards her from the shadows. She wanted to thank her saviour, but she could barely speak now.
You... She coughed before she could finish.
Shh, it's alright Sparrow, I've got you now.
Despite the dim light, she now saw his face, Walter!
Sparrow realised she must have fainted because when she regained consciousness, she was in a carriage, on what felt like the bumpiest path. Awakened by the bumps and the immense pain, she suddenly remembered.
Walter! She cried out, hoping he was still with her. The carriage came to a sudden halt and Walter opened the door.
Is everything alright, your majesty?
She wanted to thank him, She wanted to say a million things, but now wasn't the time, so she said the only thing that mattered right now.
The baby! Walter, I can't...
By the look on his face, it was apparent that Walter now realised what needed to be done.
We mustn't waste anymore time, we will find the nearest midwife.
There's no time! *ugh* another contraction interrupted me.
Walter ordered the carriage driver to find the nearest home and sat inside, with Sparrow to hold her hand and comfort her. She accepted graciously and rested her head on his shoulder, as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before they stopped again, but it felt like an eternity to Sparrow. She told herself to concentrate on her breathing now, she had made it too far to fall now. Walter paid the driver, to keep him quiet and helped Sparrow to her feet. They made their way up to the house facing them. The stairs weren't grand, probably only a few feet up, but Sparrow was too deep in labour to be able to climb, so Walter picked her up and carried her.
Walter knocked on the door, a little too impatiently, but Sparrow thought it was a sweet to see him so concerned. A man of small stature, who looked to be in his fifties, answered the door. Sparrow let Walter do the talking.
We're sorry to disturb you at this hour, but you see, my wife and I were travelling when she suddenly fell into labour. We've no where else to go and are running short on time.
The man looked them up and down and very simply said
Very well. Gesturing for them to come in.
Relieved, they stepped in and thanked him.
Annabelle! he called.
A woman around the same age as him, presumably his wife, entered the room. She wore red robes, which in it's own strange way,comforted Sparrow, because it reminded her of Theresa. She wished she could have been here now. Confused, the woman looked at them, then her husband, for an explanation. This time, Sparrow spoke.
Hi, I'm S...
She realised on time, she couldn't use her real name.
I'm Sybil, and this is my husband Connor. We're sorry to disturb you but, we're in desperate need of help.
After explaining it to her, the woman wasted no time and led Sparrow to another room. The home wasn't grand, but there was nothing pauper about it either. The interior was somehow welcoming, kind of like the homes in Oakfield. Walter followed, but it was clear to them both that neither one of them was entirely comfortable with him being present. They got to the bedroom and Sparrow turned to face him. She didn't want to sound harsh, so she said it with a smile.
Darling, why don't you wait outside?
Walter blushed for a brief moment and cleared his throat.
Of course, whatever makes you feel most comfortable, my love.
Secretly relieved that he complied Sparrow lay on the bed. Their hostess was pacing around, getting the necessary items for what was about to happen, that's when she spoke.
My name is Annabelle, and my husband'd called Charles. He doesn't speak much, but he means well. Sparrow smiled and thanked her once more.
Thank you so much, Annabelle, words can't express how truly grateful I am for your kindness.
The woman smiled and waved the compliment away.
It's no trouble, dear, I've brought children into this world before, it's nothing new to me.
Sparrow took another deep breath and scrunched up the sheets beneath her in her fists, it was nearly time. Annabelle rushed over with the last of the things and held her hand momentarily.
Don't worry, dear, it'll be over soon enough.
Upstairs, Walter sat at a small table, while his host poured him another mug of Ale, which he accepted graciously. Charles sat across from him, quiet but very observant.
Is this is your first child then?
Huh? Walter was caught off guard, too deep in thought about Sparrow.
Sorry. Walter said, embarrassed by his absent mindedness.
The man smiled.
No matter, I knew your thoughts were elsewhere the minute you sat down. It's normal to be scared the first time, Anabelle didn't look too good either when she had our oldest boy.
Charles refilled Walters mug as they sat there, waiting and chatting.
Back in Bloodstone, Reaver sat in his Mansion, waiting for Sparrow. It was the dead of night and he grew tired of waiting. What could possibly be taking her so long? His return to Albion was a matter he no longer wished to put off, but he needed the Queens approval first. It had been many years since he last saw her, so when she heard he was back, he knew she'd want to meet with him first, so of course his news would have to wait. Their last argument was the worst of them all, and he knew it must have been their last. He hated that he even thought about it, he hated that he cared. But that was so long ago, so many years had passed, why did she want to see him now? He sat in his arm chair, drinking wine and remembering the first time he laid eyes on her. She was so beautiful. If it weren't for Lucien's threats, he would have never done what he did. Of course he never intended to really give her up to him, but Luciens attack was sudden , something that even Reaver wasn't prepared for. He wanted to tell her everything, and eventually, he would have, but there was no more time left then. The way he acted after it all, he had to behave that way to ward off any suspicion and maintain his reputation but more importantly, to protect her virtue. How he regretted it now, he should have never left her side, the thought of her almost dying up there that night still hurt him. He knew things would never be the same between them after that, which is why he followed Garth to Samarkand. He took another sip of his wine and reminisced in the memories of the past for a while longer.
It's a girl.
Annabelle wrapped the newborn babe and carefully handed her to Sparrow.
Exhausted and drenched in sweat, after hours of vigorous pain Sparrow breathed with relief and cried at the sight of her daughter, as she held her for the first time. Anabelle waited patiently as Sparrow finished weeping and asked her after another minute.
Shall I call on your husband?
Sparrow nodded, with a smile, wiping off the last of her tears.
It didn't take long for Walter to appear, he looked even more tired than her. He smiled at the sight of his two greatest loves. Anabelle existed the room, to give them some privacy.
Walter made his way toward the bed and sat on the side of it, facing Sparrow, taking her hand in his.
We have a daughter.
His face lit up and for a moment, Sparrow thought he was going to cry tears of joy, but only a smile showed.
Do you want to hold her?
Of course, yes, I would, l... please. Walter seemed to have been lost in his words for a moment, but Sparrow knew it was only due to joy.
Sparrow handed their baby to him, careful to support her head.
She was so tiny, she looked even smaller in Walters big bulky arms. For a few minutes they just sat there, not uttering a word, each clinging to this moment for as long as they can. They felt truly at peace now that their daughter was born.
Have you named her? Walter asked, eager to find out.
I've been thinking and I want to name her Rose.
With that, Walter kissed her hand and said.
It's perfect.
Sparrow was glad he liked it, she knew Rose would have been proud too.
Reaver awoke in the morning, to the sounds of the people walking about outside. It was morning, he must have fallen asleep. Sightly angry now, he wondered what happened the previous night. Sparrows absence offended him and he decided he would no longer wait and he was taking matters into his own hands. He would take a carriage to Bowerstone and demand to see Sparrow in the Castle.
Walter woke up that morning, to Annabelle almost shaking him awake, talking so quickly he couldn't understand her.
Slow down, I can't understand a word you're saying.
It's your wife, something went horribly wrong.
No longer drowsy, Walter bolted out of his seat-he slept in a chair, to give Sparrow room to rest- and rushed to Sparrows side. He saw a sight that made him wish he was still sleeping. The bed was covered in blood and she moaning in pain, barely conscious. How could this have happened? How did he not notice it sooner? But she was so quiet, she must have never fully regained her energy and was barely making a sound. Lost and unprepared, he turned to Anabelle.
What do I do? How can I stop this? His voice cracked, but he made no attempt to hide his emotions now.
The baby cried, laying beside her almost lifeless mother. Anabelle picked her up in an attempt to console her, but the cries wouldn't stop.
I'm afraid it's too late to do anything now, if I'd known about the bleeding...
You would have what? Walter was yelling now. Realising he shouldn't blame her, he shook his head apologetically, looking down.
I'm sorry. He held back his tears.
Anabelle put her hand on his shoulder.
You should say goodbye while there's still time.
She turned to leave, but Walter stopped her.
I want Rose to stay here, she should get to say goodbye too.
Anabelle nodded understandably and handed the child over to her father, and left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Walter stopped resisting the inevitable tears. Rose was no longer crying. He sat on the bed, setting Rose down for a moment. He lifted Sparrows head to kiss her on the forehead, but he could only weep as he held her tightly in his arms.
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. He repeated.
If I had only gotten there sooner.
Walter. Sparrow whispered.
He let go a little, to see if she'd truly spoken and she had. She could barely keep her eyes open and was as pale as snow now, but she manged a few whispers.
Rose. She said, running out of breath again.
Walter sniffed and blinked his tears away.
Yes, my love, she's here.
He carefully placed their daughter in her arms and kept his there for support too, as they held her together. Sparrow looked at her baby for the last time and smiled. She then looked up at Walter and spoke again.
It's okay... she breathed again. Not your fault...
Walter wanted to be strong for her, but it was becoming tougher by the second.
I love you Sparrow. He told her, knowing it was the last time he'd get to say it to her.
I love you too.
He kissed her gently for a quick moment.
You mustn't tell, she said, her eyes beginning to close now.
Promise me you won't tell.
I promise, Walter said and she smiled at him one final time and closed her eyes.
Finally at the Castle in Bowerstone, Walter walked in with Rose in his arms. He went straight to Jasper, his most trusted friend. The servants and guards all looked on in confusion, but he kept walking, without a saying a word to anyone. Jasper was happy to see the newborn baby, but after realising what state Walter was in, he sensed something was wrong and gave Rose to one of the nannies, to be fed and looked after.
What happened to you? Is the Queen alright? Isn't she with you?
The questions kept pouring out, until he gave up and just sat with Walter for a while, until he was ready to talk. After about an hour, it was clear to Jasper, and he shook his head sadly in disbelief. He wanted to cry for the loss of Sparrow, not only his Queen but a dear friend too, but he hid his feelings and only shook his head.
What are you going to do? He asked Walter.
I'll do as I promised, I won't tell anyone that I'm her real father, I promised Sparrow I wouldn't.
Perhaps it's for the best, Jasper said. Seeing the look on Walters face, he quickly added.
It's best this way, because even though you never got to marry, at least Rose will be seen as a legitimitae child and heir.
You don't think anyone suspects anything? Walter asked.
No, you hid your relations well and I don't think anyone in Albion doubts that Rose is the late King's daughter.
I wish it were more simple, but maybe it is better this way. Walter finally said, looking sadly at his daughter.
You have to tell Logan.
I know.
Twelve years later.
A young Rose was getting ready for her day with her dearest friend. She wanted to wear her pink and white dress today. She rushed out, to the garden, she couldn't wait to see him again. Sat at the bench, was Elliot, her partner in crime and oldest friend.
Elliot!
A young boy with toffee brown hair and blue green eyes turned and got up to greet her, with a wide smile.