2 - A PRINCESS

On the eve of its 500th anniversary, the entire country of Kyrria held its collective breath as they waited for news of the birth.

Eleanor, King Charmont's wife, had been in labor for almost two days. The country could not have imagined the scene in the birthing room: the mother wan with exhaustion, her hair damp and her skin chalky, the royal cook (and secret fairy godmother) never leaving her side, wiping her brow with a cool cloth and whispering little words of encouragement.

They never would have recognized this weak, frail Eleanor, who they knew and loved as Queen Ella - lovely and kind, humor in her countenance, a spark always in her eyes.

Her title was somewhat of a pet name from the people, not at all official. At the time of her marriage to the king, she had boldly refused to be referred to as a princess, and after the coronation, flatly declined to answer to any phrase that included the word "Queen." This had not stopped anyone from lavishing both titles upon her, of course, so it hadn't been long before she stopped correcting them and accepted her informal titles with good grace - and maybe a little twitch at the corner of her mouth and a wry smile thrown at her husband, who had been ordered never to refer to her as anything higher than "Court Linguist."

Even during important, dull events of state, her spirit could not be dampened. During Char's coronation, she had stumbled over the hem of her own dress. It was ridiculously long, in keeping with the current fashion, and though Ella had protested, the dressmaker had insisted. Ironically, tripping over the abundance of cloth caused her to pitch forward, knocking into the High Chancellor, whose spectacles went flying off his nose. They soared high overhead, as if in slow-motion, and landed in someone's wine goblet with a satisfactory plop. Her face bright red, Ella had murmured profuse apologies to the Chancellor, but she had just happened to glace over his shoulder, only to glimpse Char's face. He was trying in vain to hold back his laughter, and he looked so comical that Ella burst out laughing herself. This immediately set both royals into a fresh round of hysterics. In turn, this set off the courtiers and the citizens, who had been torn between tensely waiting for a reaction from any of the royalty and stifling their own laughter out of respect.

Indeed, their queen was forever laughing, and much of the time at herself and her own innate clumsiness, despite being properly finished. That was beside the point, however. She was also kind and good, and it was obvious how deeply in love the king was with her, as she was with him. In fact, their love story had become widely known throughout the kingdom, and was told and retold at many firesides. (Someday it would even become the stuff of fairy tales, though it was as true a tale as any that had ever been told.)

By contrast, the scene in the small birthing room was the opposite of a fairy tale; rather, it had the makings of a tragedy. To see Ella struggling to bring her fifth child into the world, she herself almost on the brink of leaving it, that famous spark so greatly dimmed, would have shocked and saddened the kingdom.

Needless to say, Char was wild with worry. In fact, he had been at her side every hour, not even leaving to rest himself, until Mandy finally kicked him out. Neither parent had slept, and Ella was failing despite the fight in her.

Mandy saw at last that she would have to intervene. She had tried to help as much as she could without magic, but it was not enough, and soon it would be too late. Memories of Ella's mother and namesake flitted through her mind; she knew she could not let herself hesitate. Lady Eleanor's death hadn't been her fault, but she felt partially responsible anyway. If only she had been more vigilant, maybe things would have turned out very differently. And, if this motivation wasn't enough, besides Char there were four young boys, and they needed their mother.

"Well, love, we're in a pickle now, aren't we?" Mandy murmured, smoothing back the damp stray hairs from Ella's brow. Ella opened her eyes, her long lashes fluttering.

"Mmmmm?" Ella muttered, her voice barely audible. The effort it took for her to speak made Mandy's heart give a little squeeze of panic, but she forced herself to focus.

"Nothing, my dear. I'm just going to drop by the kitchens and get you something to perk up your energy a little. This baby of yours seems to be quite stubborn!"

Ella lifted the corner of her mouth in a shadow of a smile, but her eyes were full of love for her unborn baby. "Little stubborn . . . "

"Don't you worry. We'll all meet Stubborn soon enough. Just hold on a bit longer; you'll see."

Ella sighed and closed her eyes. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."


Char lifted his head swiftly as a shadow passed by him. He was just in time to catch Mandy disappearing through the door that led to the stairs, and Nancy, the head servant, slipping into Ella's room. He caught the first snatches of a soft wail before the door shut. Another contraction.
He jumped up, wiping his hand over his face in one quick motion. He froze for a second, torn between wanting to sneak back into the birthing room and wanting to follow Mandy. His better judgment told him that he probably should not cross Mandy, so he forced himself to move deliberately toward the stairs. His heart, meanwhile, was back in the small room with his wife.

He thought he knew where Mandy would go, and he followed his instinct. Sure enough, he found her bustling around in her special pantry, gathering an interesting array of ingredients. He stood silently in the doorway, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She ignored him and brushed past him with her arms full, moving to the larger kitchen. He followed, curious, but also more worried than before.

"Small magic, Mandy?" he asked, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"What else?" she quipped, a little impatiently.

Mandy had never interfered with any of the other births.

"What is it?" His voice wavered a little.

Mandy finally looked at him, square in the eyes. She sighed at his expression, and relaxed her shoulders.
"Just a little something that I'll put in her hot tea. She needs more energy, and once she has it I think things will move along."

She must have seen the desperation in his expression, which he had been trying to hide. Mandy never missed much. Her voice grew warmer.
"Don't worry, dear. Things will turn out all right, for her and the child. It's not so dire that small magic won't help." She gave him a quick, reassuring smile, and then turned back to her work.

Char wilted against the door frame, resting his forehead against the wood. He breathed in and out, in and out. He could imagine the worst thing in the world that could possibly happen to him, and he had been afraid, ever since yesterday, when the child simply would not come, that it was going to come true.

He forced the thought out of his mind. Ella would not die. He wouldn't let her. If she didn't have strength left, he would be her strength.

Mandy went by him again, this time bearing a tray laden with a mug of something hot and steaming, smelling faintly of peppermint. He straightened up, took another deep lungful of air, and then was hot on her heels.


He caught up to her just as she was going to enter the birthing room. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," he said. She turned, facing him. He pleaded with her with his eyes.

She frowned at him for a second, and then outright glared.
"If you get in my way at all, out you go. Lady needs to focus, and I can't have you distracting her. If you're in there with her, you're to be as silent as the grave, understand?"

"Thank you, Mandy. I just need to be near her. I-"

She cut him off. "I know how it is with you two; however, all you'll be doing is giving silent moral support." Her voice went even lower, into what he thought of as her 'I-mean-business' tone. She paused for emphasis.

"I don't care that you're the highest law of the land. I'm in charge."

With that, she disappeared into the room, and Char was just able to slip inside before she snapped the door shut.


The mug of Mandy's concoction, whatever it had been, sat empty on the bedside table. Char was kneeling at the side of the narrow bed, gripping Ella's hand. He had not said a word since entering the room. He focused entirely on Ella, mentally sending her every ounce of energy he possessed. Every time she squeezed his hand, he squeezed back harder.

Mandy was shouting at Ella, kneeling under a pile of sheets at the end of the bed. Nancy was racing around, giving Mandy clean cloths as she needed them and preparing everything else.

"Push, Lady, push! I know you have it in you-"

"Deep breaths. Now push again. Harder!"

"One more time, now. Give it everything you've got! PUSH!"

Ella pushed, her hair damp with sweat, her face determined through her exhaustion.

"Here she comes!"

For the first time, Char's head snapped up. He stared at Mandy. She?

"Just a little more, a little more, a little more. . . HERE SHE IS!"

Ella collapsed, her chest heaving. "Char, Char. . . wha . . . what . . . ?" She panted, totally spent.

Char, still gripping Ella's hand, was following Mandy everywhere with his eyes. She snipped the umbilical cord with a matter-of-fact air, and then handed the little red, screaming baby to Nancy, who went to work at once. Before Char knew it, Nancy was approaching the bed, a little bundle in her arms.

He hadn't even noticed that the screaming had stopped. Finally, he became aware of Ella tugging feebly at his hand. He turned, took one look at her face, and without hesitating, climbed onto the edge of the narrow bed, wrapping his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair, a sob escaping him.

Nancy and Mandy looked at each other, and then back at the royal couple. Ella's eyes were starting to brim over as she gently stroked Char's curls. Nancy timidly approached the other side of the bed, holding out the bundle to Ella.

Ella held out one arm, smiling through her tears. Her other thin arm was still wrapped around Char's large shoulders. She looked tiny and wan, but a glowing happiness was spreading over her face. Nancy stepped closer and carefully tucked the bundle into the crook of Ella's free arm. Char quieted, and then sat up, wiping his face and blowing his nose on his shirt sleeve. Mandy and Nancy took the opportunity to tip-toe out of the room, softly shutting the door behind them.

Meanwhile, the king and queen of Kyrria were leaning together, unfolding the soft swaddling cloth from around their daughter's face. The baby blinked and opened her eyes.

It was the eve of the country's 500th anniversary. After four princes of Kyrria, here, joyously, was a princess.