Btw: If reading descriptions of childbirth isn't your style, just skip to where it says 1781 :)
19 May, 1763
"Just one more push, Your Majesty!"
Anneliese glared at the midwife. "This is the third time you've said that!"
"I mean it this time, madame, I promise."
She opened her mouth to argue, but all that came out was another scream as she gripped Julian's hand even tighter, resulting in a badly concealed grimace from him.
"You're doing so well, angel," Julian said, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing it dotingly, "almost there."
She fought the urge to tell him it was his fault she was in this situation at all, squeezing her eyes shut as another ripple of pain went through her.
"One more push, madame!"
"You. . .said. . .that. . .last. . .time!"
But the midwife, shockingly, was being truthful. With one more scream, the pains subsided, and the birthing chamber was filled with the noisy cries of an infant. Julian kissed her forehead elatedly, laughing and crying at the same time.
There was a pause as the midwife examined the child, before she said with relief,
"A girl, Your Majesty."
Anneliese watched in wonder as Julian dropped her hand and moved to hold the baby, clutching it to his chest as tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Oh God, Annie. She's so beautiful."
She held out her arms desperately as her husband gently placed their daughter in her arms.
"What shall we call her?" she asked as Julian wrapped an arm around them both, kissing her temple.
"Rosella. Like the flower."
Anneliese looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. "You mean the flower you've been trying and failing to grow in the gardens all summer?"
"I know you like them," he shrugged, "But since I doubt our climate is suitable for them, I figure I should give you at least one Rosella."
She rolled her eyes, smiling. Then, she looked away from him to the baby clutching her finger tightly, and felt her cheeks become wet with tears as Rosella's eyes opened, and twin pairs of cobalt eyes met.
"I know you," she whispered, "my Rosebud."
24 June, 1781
Anneliese Marie Du Châtillon did not rely on instinct. She did not lead with her heart, nor her gut, nor any other piece of anatomy in her possession besides her brain.
But she knew what it was to look into a pair of eyes that mirrored hers perfectly. She knew what it was to know someone belonged to you with a brush of a hand. And she knew in every part of her body that this child was hers.
Ro- Rosella, Rosy, Rosebud- was watching her with a sort of cautious curiosity, like her beloved childhood cat once watched a string on the floor.
With a cat, one approaches slowly. Don't spook it with sudden movements, even when every instinct says to run and hold it tightly so that it never gets away again. She took slow, deliberate steps, maintaining eye contact with Rosella, who still stood frozen where she was.
Am I wrong? A little voice in her brain asked. Is this someone else's daughter, not mine?
And then, Rosella began to sing.
Sun goes down, and we are here together,
She took a hesitant step towards Anneliese, gauging her reaction as though she were an animal that might attack. She continued the song, with a little less uncertainty,
Fireflies glow like a thousand charms,
Anneliese felt her eyes brim with tears as she held out her hand to Ro and picked up the familiar melody.
Stay with me, and you can dream forever,
They were face to face now, close enough to touch without either one daring to. It was as though they knew the truth would be revealed as soon as they did.
Right here in my arms, tonight.
Anneliese touched her hand gently, and then all doubt was gone.
"Maman." Rosella sobbed, falling into her embrace and burying her nose in her mother's shoulder.
Anneliese stroked her hair, murmuring, "My darling, my Rosebud, my baby. I'm so sorry. So so sorry."
"It's not your fault."
She pulled away a little, just so that she could get a good look at Rosella's face. She had always assumed it would look exactly like her own, as it always had when she was a child, but she saw a bit of her own mother in the shape of her nose.
She stroked Rosella's cheek, trying to commit this new version of her daughter's face to memory, rather than the child she'd last seen so many years ago.
"I missed you, darling," Anneliese said, tucking a stray hair behind Rosella's ear.
"I missed you too," Rosella smiled sadly at her, "even when I couldn't remember your face, I missed you."
Anneliese kissed Rosella's cheek over and over as she wrapped her arms more tightly around her daughter.
"And you, young lady," she said, looking at where Genevieve stood, "how long did you know about this?"
"Just since last night, Maman, I swear!"
Anneliese sighed at how deliberately ignorant Genevieve could be sometimes, but smiled anyway, taking her second daughter's hand in hers as she said to both Rosy and Gen,
"We'd better go see your father."
Ro
Genevieve let go of their mother's right hand, moving towards the door, while Ro held tight to the other, as though they'd be estranged again if she let go.
The room fell deadly silent as they walked in, and for a moment Ro considered dropping her mother's hand and leaving so that the people around her could continue with their real lives.
Isabella, per usual, was the one to break the silence.
"I knew it was you, Ro!" she said, leaping up and throwing her arms around her neck. Ro returned the hug, laughing.
"I suppose we look too much alike to not be related."
"That's not a given in our family," Isabella whispered back, indicating her head to where Maman and Auntie Erika were hugging and laughing.
As Isabella pulled away, a boy with light brown curls who looked to be about twelve approached her, offering her a smile and his hand to shake.
"Er, I think I'm your brother," he said nervously, "we've never met, I'm-"
"Erik," she said in recognition, taking his hand, "I'm Ro."
"Nice to meet you, I suppose," he said as they both laughed at the ridiculousness of being the closest of kin and yet perfect strangers.
"And you, you're Henri," she turned to a slightly older boy who was trying very hard not to cry. She took his face in her hands, wiping the tears from his face as she said, "you know, the last time I saw you, you couldn't stand up on your own. I'm very proud of your progress."
He gave her a watery laugh as she was crushed from behind by Pierre, who she recognized immediately by the crown shaped birthmark just underneath his left eye.
"God, you've gotten tall, haven't you, Pipi?"
He groaned. "I can't escape that stupid nickname, can I?"
She laughed, shaking her head as he allowed her to hug him. It was amazing that he was as tall as she was now. She truly had missed so much.
Dominique gave her the kind of embrace expected for a distant relative who one has no memory of, but relaxed when Ro flicked her in the forehead.
"Rosy? Is it really you?" said a voice she'd know anywhere, but with a new grown-up deepness that hadn't been there when she'd hugged him goodbye all those years ago.
Ro embraced Derek, ruffling his hair as they pulled apart, just like she'd always done, just like she would've if they'd never been apart.
And though she'd kept it together while she'd hugged all her brothers and sisters, her eyes immediately flooded with tears when her father embraced her.
"My Rosy," he whispered, "my darling little girl."
"I was in the greenhouse," she confessed, still holding tight, "with Antonio. I went to sing to the plants, and then I heard you coming so I hid."
Julian pulled away, his eyes shining with tears. "You still sing to plants?"
Ro nodded. "On the island too."
He squeezed her shoulders. "I'm sorry I let them pull me out."
She shook her head. "You can't swim, Papa. You'd have died."
Julian scoffed. "Still," he said, "is there any way I can make it up to you?"
"Papa, you don't need to-"
"For an old man's peace of mind."
"Would you walk me down the aisle in," she looked at the clock behind her father's head in alarm, "twenty minutes?"
Genevieve snapped to attention. "Everyone out! Rosella and I need to change!"
And as the rest of her family exited the room, Ro gave Genevieve a small smile and squeezed her hand.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Anything for you, Rosy."