"I feel as big as a cow." Christine groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Meg's words were calm. "And you will be thin as a reed again, after the baby comes."

Christine groaned, and rolled on her side to face Meg, her hands running over her swollen belly. "I cannot escape boredom! It was bad enough before, when I couldn't ride and only move around the apartment. But my heavens, I've been in this bed for three weeks. I missed that "

Meg hummed and nodded, she bit the end of her pink thread, she was embroidering the edge of a dress her father had gifted her for her eighteenth birthday. She had learned by now to accept Christine's complaining with little to no comment.

"At least Erik comes back today." Christine continued. "Oh I wish I could have gone with him! This stupid child." She kicked the end of her bed, though she knew it was childish. Remorse overcame her, and she patted her stomach, her own apology to the child. "I need something to do." She cried.

Meg threaded her needle. "You don't want to practice the lute, reading gives you headaches, being read to makes you confused, and all you want to talk about is to complain of your situation. I suppose you could help me embroider, but I don't think you would agree to that."

Christine ignored this sound logic. "There is nothing for me to do. I've had nothing to do since I came here. Noting but modeling for dresses and posing for paintings. I-I-" She fell silent and covered her face again. "I'm sorry Meg." She moaned. "I- I just, it's gotten so much worse since Erik left. And I so wanted to go with him this time."

She had already missed his visit in the summer, because of her pregnancy. Secretly she had hoped that she would have given birth by the time January came again. But here she was. Meg spoke, once again the voice of reason, she always had been during these last weeks, "Yes, and you will go with him next year."

A year. It had been a year since she had seen Mama Valerius. A year since she had seen Mary and the others.

"I miss him." Christine whispered. "I miss him so much my heart aches. If I had something to do it would not be so bad, but my days are empty." She kicked the bed again. "And now I'm complaining again."

She remembered watching him ride away, missing him as he led the group. Missing his reassuring kisses. The night before, they had laid together in the darkness of his room, and she had begged him. "Is there any other way? Could you not just depend on their letters and word?"

Here he had clung to her, and he sounded near tears as he told her that it was best he go in person. He had to go.

The days were long and listless without him. The weather was poor, grey and sprinkling of rain. Christine was not allowed outside, not even for a walk around the castle. Not even with Meg and a dozen servants behind. Three weeks of laying in bed until she felt like screaming for something to do.

Then she remembered the weight on her stomach, the little life inside, and she would still herself.

She stilled herself now.

"Nine months. Sometimes I wish I could have given birth a month ago, and have all this over with." Christine huffed.

"Mama always said the worst part is during the birth."

"But then you know it's almost over. Rather than waiting and waiting and waiting."

Meg raised her eyebrows, but continued working on her piece.

"After I pass this seam, I shall work on your gown again. The hem came back ripped out," she tutted, "They are so rough with your clothes." But she avoided Christine's eyes. The unnamed blame filled the stuffy air.

"Give it here." Christine said, sitting up. "I may as well have something to do."


It was almost sunset before Erik came. Christine waited, sitting with her swollen belly in the Solar. She was not allowed in the cold courtyard to wait, but her heart fluttered when she saw his horse ride through the gate.

Carefully, she pulled herself to her feet and paced the room, relishing in the movement. Meg had made her promise that she would not leave her seat while she stood with her mother, but Christine broke it with glee.

She thought and laughed at their ridiculous promotions while she walked. Her fingers traced the painting on the whitewashed wall. It was ridiculous the precautions they took, absolute bed rest, washing two times a week. The herbs she had to consume once a day, Lady Giry scanned her every meal for potential dangers. Granted, it was nice to have the sand filled cakes and spoiled apples sent back, but Christine was smart enough to not eat them.

Lady Giry did not believe, as many noble women believed, that if you saw an animal while pregnant, your child would be cursed with it's form. It was a silly superstitious belief that was only upheld by most noble women's lack of contact with animals.

Yes, many saw the dogs their husbands had for hunting. And there was not a noble lady Christine had heard of that could not ride. But they did not walk among cattle every day, nor feed a pig or milk a cow. They did not spend long hours brushing horses and saddling them. These were all things that common folk did, and yet their children were born as young healthy babies. And yet many women believed that if you saw your husband's dog while carrying a babe, it would be a pup. Christine shook her head in amusement at the thought.

Though Meg and Lady Giry were not taken in by this nonsense, they certainly believed other ones, and Christine was at the mercy of their careful ways.

Christine went to the window again, looking out into the courtyard, she saw Erik swinging down from his horse. His cloak was lightly peppered white from the snow. He was addressing Nadir, and then the servants broke ranks, each going their own way.

She went to the chair in front of the fireplace, her heart thumping and jumping.

Quick footsteps echoed down the stone hallway, his boots thumping against the stone floor.

The door burst open, and Christine greeted Erik with open arms and a large smile.

Soon she was tucked into his arms, her head against his neck. His fingers, colder than usual from being out into the winter air, rubbed her back while holding her close.

"It was good that I went." He murmured.

"How could it have been," Christine joked, "when you had to leave me behind?"

He chuckled. "Well, the overseer over the weavers, he made a grave error in the storeroom for the woven wool, nearly a quarter of the wool bolts were made unsellable."

Christine gasped, pushing him away to gasp, "No!"

He shrugged, then went to pull her close again. "I will sell it at a large discount to the surrounding people. it is not a complete loss."

"And you spent so much on my wardrobe..." Christine mourned, suddenly ashamed of the red gold silk in her bedroom.

"It will cover that, don't fear." Erik assured her. "I made sure of that."

Christine shook her head. "What was his mistake?"

"He thought to save costs by hiring a cheap carpenter to repair the roof, where it was wearing thin. He did not check to see if it was secure, and did not tour the building often." Erik set his jaw against her headcloth. "I gave him strict instructions, and I will be sending Nadir in three months time to see he has kept them. If he does not, I will have to let him go."

Christine shook her head. "Foolish man. The water spoiled the wool?"

"Yes, after last month's downpour, I'm afraid much of it has grown mold." Erik shook his head. "I set them to wash what they could, but much of it is spoiled. Now do you see why I must go on these trips?"

"I'm afraid I will ever be biased against them until I can finally experience them myself." Christine murmured, reaching up to kiss him at the edge of his mask.


The first contraction took Christine's breath away, leaving her gasping and wincing pain. It pulled her from the light sleep she had drifted into. Her white knuckles made whiter by moonlight gripped the edge of the bed. She groaned, trying to tell Meg.

"... Christine?"

And then the pain passed. Christine shivered, swallowing in the dark.

"I think the baby is coming." She whispered hoarsely. "Oh, oh I didn't expect it to hurt that much. Oh, dear Mother Mary…"

She heard Meg shifting. "I'll go get Mother, she knows where the midwife is sleeping."

Christine nodded slowly, carefully she shifted in the bed. She had assisted in births before, going and fetching, ever since she was old enough to walk. She knew that another contraction would not come until after Meg had reached Madame Giry.

Sure enough, another contraction had not come when Lady Giry in a simple gown came in, followed by the midwife.

The midwife was about to look at Christine when another contraction started. Christine choked, holding back all the pain, save for a whimper that escaped past her lips. A moment later, it passed, and Christine sighed in relief.

Around her, they were lighting several candles to work by.

"Should I wake His Grace?" Meg asked quietly, "I wouldn't let him in," she cried at the glares from Giry and the midwife, "I'd like to know if my child was being born."

"We'll see." Lady Giry called. "For now, I want you to get-" Here she listed off the names of several servant women. "We'll need their help."

Meg ran from the room, carrying a candle after her.

"What do... I do?" Christine joked, panting from the pain.

The midwife patted her hand. "For now, take deep breaths, and bear the pain."

Christine nodded, gritting her teeth as another wave of pain came.

He he. Whoops. I wrote out half this chapter, then ran out of what to say. Then I forgot about it for the next two months. *ducks the tossed plate* Then I realized my solution was simple and finished it off. The next chapter I have all planned out, so that should be coming out way sooner than this last one took.

Hope you all enjoyed. What do you think, boy or girl? ;)

Reviews make authors happy! :)