Palace of Westminster, London
February 1467
Obeying the King's wishes, Bonnie is crowned Queen consort of England on the second Tuesday of February in a sequence of ceremonies, each of them as splendid as it can be.
The feast that follows is sumptuous; the conclusion of an equally grand event. The great hall at Westminster is hung with rich crimson cloths of Arras and banners bearing the Queen's newly designed coat of arms.
With musicians and entertainment brought from courts of continental Europe and countless barrels of wine, it is a lively event. As chatter and laughter fill the hall, becoming more animated as the hours pass, it also becomes evident that not all courtiers are enjoying themselves.
Standing in a corner of the room, Warwick and his younger brother, Lord Montagu, speak in hushed whispers. Unlike one would expect on such a joyful occasion, both of them sport similar expressions of disapproval.
A witch sits on the throne of England, the replacement of a gracious and suitable Princess. They should be weeping for shame and instead, they must celebrate as if victory has been achieved on the battlefield.
"All of Europe must be mocking us right now. Our Queen is a witch with not one drop of royal blood in her veins," Lord Montagu mutters in displeasure; his grip on the cup so tight that his knuckles turn white.
"Be quiet, John!" Warwick instructs, looking around to check if any of the courtiers have heard John's statement.
Despite agreeing with the sentiment, Warwick is not as imprudent as his brother. Disparaging Bonnie during her coronation feast is a certain way to lose the King's favor.
"Play your part, brother, for this will not be for too long. Soon the King will take another mistress and she will lose his attention," Warwick assures his sibling with a confident tone. "In the meantime, have another cup of ale and pretend this is a merry occasion!"
Unbeknownst to the two brothers, one person was able to hear them. In any other day, the Dowager Marquess of Derby would be furious with such hateful words. Today, Sheila Bennett can do little more than smile into her goblet of mulled wine. While the Earl of Warwick and Lord Montagu are nursing their sore egos, her granddaughter is the one basking in victory.
Clad in a white silk gown embroidered with golden thread and trimmed with ermine, Bonnie is exuberant. She shines as bright as the coronet placed on her head. A difficult feat, considering the item in question is covered with precious gems and seems to glitter against candlelight, but her granddaughter manages it quite well.
"This is far more than I could ever expect!" Bonnie whispers as she leans into Niklaus, becoming faint from his scent and the day's excitement.
She barely got any sleep during her stay in the royal quarters of the Tower or the night before; riddled with anxiety and sickness from the baby.
"The Londoners were not able to see you and I wanted all of England to finally accept you as their new Queen," Niklaus states; his tone a mixture of adoration and gravity.
"All of England or just your Lady Mother?" Bonnie wonders with an arch of her right eyebrow; eyes slanting to the empty chair that his mother was supposed to occupy.
While Bonnie does not mind Duchess Esther's absence, it is obvious to her that Niklaus is upset by it. After all, his mother remains a dear figure to the nobles and her refusing to attend the coronation sends the wrong message to those at court.
"She has become bolder than I would have liked," he admits, hanging his head in slight embarrassment. His mother has always been a proud woman, a trait he admired when he was younger and has come to loathe.
"Do not trouble yourself over this, Nik. The day has been perfect!" Bonnie says with a smile, so happy that she forgets any propriety. They are in public, and she knows she should refer to him as her King. "I apologize, Your Grace. I did not intend any disrespect."
"Disrespect? You are my wife, Bonnie," Klaus soothes as he pulls her as close as possible; his lips grazing her earlobe, his breath tickling the skin of her neck. "The only issue I have stems from the fact that I wish to disrobe you and we are surrounded by too many people."
Seeing Bonnie like this, so beautiful, so perfect, has elicited a fire within him and he is ready to retire to his chambers with her.
"Husband!" she cries out; her entire body feeling warm as pink hue tints her neck and cheeks.
"I am the King, my love. I believe that gives me the right to say whatever I wish to say to my wife," he protests with a charming smile; the pads of his fingers tracing shapeless figures on the nape of her neck. "It also gives me the right to kiss my wife whenever I wish to kiss her."
He closes the distance between them, kissing her with as much tenderness as he can muster, not caring if half the court keeps their eyes on them.
"She hardly knows how to behave," Elena Neville, Earl of Warwick's eldest daughter, mutters into her cup, shaking her head in distaste. "Whispering and kissing the King."
"Lena!" Victoria, Elena's younger sister, squeaks; looking around to see if anyone else heard her sister's unkind words. She may not know much about life at court, but even she knows speaking ill of the Queen could be considered treason. "You mustn't say that! I think she is beautiful."
"She may be beautiful, but does not know how to behave like a Queen," Elena states as she turns to give the royal couple a not too subtle glare.
"How would you behave, Lena?" Victoria wonders; her attention also turning to the couple. Her eyes, however, are filled with curiosity instead of the reprimand her sister displays.
"I would be a dignified Queen, and would never allow people to see my true emotions," Elena answers in a harsh whisper; the confidence and arrogance she displays similar to her father's. "I would be a much better Queen."
Victoria does not answer; merely gives her a timid smile, not paying much mind to her sister's outlandish thoughts. After all, they are merely childish dreams.
Windsor Castle, Berkshire
April 1467
Two months pass, the snow brought by the bitterly cold winter melts as the roses begin to bloom once more, white replaced with lush green. Spring has come, stirring everything back to life.
"Dash!" Bonnie shrieks in delight as her trusty pup runs around the trees, relishing in his newfound freedom.
As silly as it may be, she understands the feeling. It has been far too long since she was unbound and free to do as she pleased.
This is what pleases her. Being outside, just on the outer edge of the woods; Thomas Lovell playing his new piece on the violin as her ladies teach one another the steps for a new dance.
"Another tart, Your Grace?" Annie Howard asks with a timid smile, pointing to the assortment of foods spread out on the blanket.
Her ladies were thoughtful to request that the cooks prepare all of the dishes she has been craving, from berry tarts to roasted lamb.
"I am afraid I have had too many already, Annie!" Bonnie answer, placing both hands on her belly. "Look at how fat I have gotten!"
"It is merely the little prince who grows bigger and stronger by the day!" Annie states in obvious excitement; red blush tinting her cheeks. "We will have to start making his clothes soon, do you not think, Your Grace?"
The smile curling Bonnie's lips is almost involuntary, much like the way she cradles her belly. Even if her son is small, there is no denying the life growing inside her. A stark relief, considering the awful history of Princess Aurora's childbearing failings.
"Child!"
The familiar voice captures Bonnie's attention, distracting her from the easy conversation with Annie. It is her Lady Grandmother, hurrying towards her.
"Lady Grandmother, it is a surprise to see you," Bonnie greets when Sheila is close enough, using a surprising amount of effort to keep from stuttering. She is a queen, is she not? Queens do not cower from their grandmothers.
"I was informed you were ill and the physician recommended that you retire from court," Sheila tells Bonnie; her arched left eyebrow displays such doubt she needs not to say a single word. "I take it you have recovered already, so you are to return to London with me?"
The anxiety that fills Bonnie at the thought of returning to court is disconcerting. Surely she should be stronger than this.
"You may leave me with my Grandmother," Bonnie instructs, moving to sit on the bench once they are alone. "I am not ill, Grandmother. And the baby is well. I just couldn't bear to stay at Westminster any longer. I fear that palace has become my gilded cage."
The confession slips out of her lips in an ashamed whisper as she averts her Lady Grandmother's gaze.
"Is that why you left court?"
"I cannot draw a breath without eliciting scandalized whispers. They curtsy, but I can sense the despise in their smiles!"
Bonnie feels like a fool. A little girl who was dressed in fine silks and propped up, but has not been told what to do. Should she smile be gracious and overlook the ill-conceived glares? Perhaps she should throw the weight of her tile and force them to comply?
"Oh, sweet Bonnie," Sheila breathes, wrapping her arms around Bonnie just like she used to do in the past. "Do not despair, my child."
"Westminster is filled with turmoil and I can only be at peace here in Windsor."
"Listen to me, Bonnie," Sheila urges, lifting her granddaughter's chin so she can look her in the eye. "I do not doubt you, but you should not have left court. It was unwise and dangerous to do so."
"Dangerous?" Bonnie questions, using the back of her hand to wipe a few tears. "These are times of peace and England loves Niklaus. I do not believe my safety to be at risk."
"War is not the only concern, for we have other matters that pose a threat to us."
"What do you not tell me, Grandmother?"
"Lord Warwick put your husband on the throne and for that, the King bears him a loyalty that leaves him blind to anything else."
That information does not as a surprise to Bonnie. The bond between Warwick and her husband seems to be unbreakable and much tighter than she appreciates.
"And Warwick does not care for me, much like Duchess Esther," Bonnie says in resignation, the nauseous sensation that has plagued her for the last months returning in keen force.
"Warwick does not like people he cannot control," Sheila reminds her in a matter of fact tone. "He wishes to consolidate his power and you are a threat to this, for you will not help his ambitions."
It is known that Warwick has most of England under his thumb as the owner of many lands and one of largest fortunes in the country. Him being threatened by her of all people does not make sense to Bonnie. Especially when all she has sought is his friendship. Bonnie believed that together they could support Niklaus hold the weight of the crown. What a fool she was. Warwick wishes to be the only one with that particular responsibility. The only one close to power.
"You believe he plots against me? To make me lose the King's favor?" Bonnie wonders. She may not know much about life in court, but she does know that a Queen without her husband's favor carries no influence.
"Oh, he is no fool. He knows not even God himself could turn that man against you. The King is a man in love. But he does want to weaken your position."
"And how do I protect myself from the likes of him and Duchess Esther?"
Sheila sighs, bringing a hand to chest. She hoped it would not have to come to this. While doubtful, she still held a glimmer of hope that Warwick would come to accept Bonnie as his Queen and respect her.
"Your first line of defense is this child," Sheila answers as she places a hand on her belly. "As long as he quickens inside of you, you are strong."
Bonnie smiles; her heart beating faster with fear. Fear that her child may not be strong enough to draw first breath and thrive. Fear that it may not be the lusty boy Niklaus wants and England needs.
"Can you tell what it is, Grandmother? If it is a boy I carry?" Bonnie asks with just a hint of pleading. Her Lady Grandmother knows a vast assortment of spells, after all. Surely one of them would be able to tell the sex of her child.
"No, the witches have banned these spells from being passed down years and years ago," Sheila answers with a shake of her head. "Too many dangers came with that knowledge."
Though disappointed, Bonnie can understand. The ability to read into what future would bring does sound dangerous.
"If my child is a healthy boy my position will be secure," Bonnie murmurs; cringing at how harsh the words sounds coming out of her lips.
This is what being a Queen means, she attempts to convince herself. Her womb and children are not only hers but the country's as well.
"You are beginning to think like a Queen, Bonnie and that is good," Sheila encourages with her usual nurturing smile. "Gone are the days you can act like Lady Bonnie Bennett. You are Queen of England now."
"But, Grandmother, what if my child is a baby girl? What then?"
"Then the Duke of Clarence remains as your husband's heir and Warwick will once again endeavor to regain all of his influence," Sheila answers in a flat, pragmatic tone.
While Bonnie was not directly responsible for the slip in Warwick's influence, she can understand the peril he poses.
"How do I prevent him from succeeding, even without a son?"
"By making you and your family stronger. The nobles would not dare to turn against you if they are linked to you."
"An alliance by marriage, then?"
"By marriage or treaty," Sheila pipes in, taking a short moment of levity to drink some wine and gather her thoughts. "Warwick wants the King to make peace with France. If he is triumphant in that quest, he will be mighty again. The second King of England."
Bonnie bites her lower lip to keep herself from snorting or even growling, two rather unladylike sounds. The boundless audacity of Warwick never ceases to surprise her.
"It would be better for all of us if the King allies with Burgundy instead," Sheila states in a way that could not be any more direct. The time for hints is behind them.
"Lady Grandmother, you confuse me with one of the privy councilors," Bonnie says; the words hardly audible due to her nervous laugh. Another habit of hers that does not belong to a Queen. "I do not interfere in matters of state."
Perhaps her Grandmother gives her and her position far more credit than it is due. As Queen consort, she is expected to provide the King at least an heir and a spare, not offer advice in foreign diplomacy.
"No, my child," Sheila whispers as she cups Bonnie's cheek. "You boast far more influence on the King than any noble sitting on the Privy Council. I reckon it is time to use that in your favor. Lord Warwick will not hesitate in using his against us."
Palace of Westminster, London
June 1467
The sun is already down when Bonnie crosses the not too long hallway that connects her chambers to the King's. Contrary to what custom dictates, she is not followed by any of her ladies-in-waiting and only wears a simple robe over her white shift.
If the guard posted at the King's door finds that situation unusual, he does not indicate so. He merely offers her a respectful bow and opens the door.
She smiles at the sight of her husband. Wearing a simple white cotton shirt and loose pants instead of his usual elaborate and rich attire, he looks like her Niklaus.
Her Nik, the man who wakes her up with a flutter of kisses before slipping out of bed to start the day. Not Niklaus I, the man who wears the crown. Bonnie has always been careful to separate the two men and now she will blur the line.
"I begin to wonder whether I should feel insulted or not," Bonnie starts to say as she leans against the back of a chair. It would seem that her belly has expanded overnight, becoming quite cumbersome.
Klaus looks up in surprise; lips curling into a bright smile when he sees Bonnie. It has been a long and exhausting day, after all.
"I don't believe I have seen my husband and King today," she continues, walking towards him in slow steps. Only stops when they only distance separating them is her belly. "He did not come to my chambers for supper and left me in all my lonesome."
Still sitting down, Klaus wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head on her stomach. The sound of their child's heartbeat is steady enough to soothe him.
"You become more beautiful each day, wife," Klaus murmurs against the cotton the shift that covers her body. His voice is low and grave, but Bonnie is able to hear him in the silence of the room.
"You mistake fatter for beautiful, husband. I am almost the size of an auroch now!" she cries out with a chuckle, far past feeling depressed because of her ever-expanding body.
"A beautiful auroch you make, then," he concludes, laying a kiss on her belly; smiling when he feels the flutter against his lips.
"You are too much of a flatterer, Nik. And a liar as well."
Klaus places another kiss on her stomach and settles back on the uncomfortable oak chair.
"What is it that you wish besides throwing insults, my Queen?"
Bonnie smiles, already missing the closeness of their bodies.
"I have missed you, my love," she confesses, attempting to keep the whinging tone from her voice, yet failing miserably. In any other occasion, she would have been able to conceal her true emotions, but the child inside of her makes it impossible to do so. "You have not come to my bed in two days."
Though unusual for a King and Queen to share a bed with such frequency, Bonnie has always endeavored to build a rather intimate life with her husband and now she's come to miss it.
"I apologize, love. I do hope you know your bed is my favorite place in all of the realm," Klaus says, rubbing both eyes as a sign of exhaustion. A hybrid he may be, but even the bodies of supernatural creatures can only take so much. "Running the country is far more troubling than one could ever imagine."
Bonnie stays silent and wonders if he wants to admit that being King is harder than he could ever imagine, even after years on the throne. He did assign most of the tedious tasks to Warwick, after all.
"Is there any issue?" Bonnie wonders; her voice just the right blend of curious innocence.
"No, not for now. The Marches are well protected, but Warwick believes we must turn our attention to this treaty," he replies, motioning to the pile of rolled out parchments that cover the table.
"A treaty?"
"A treaty with France. After what happened, Warwick fears it is the only way to appease Louis and keep him from supporting Margaret's claim."
For a moment, Bonnie wishes she could be ever so bold and shake Niklaus into recognizing Warwick's true motives. The man wants to become as powerful as he is! Perhaps even more. Without royal blood to support a claim for the throne, Bonnie has no doubt this is how Warwick hopes to rule. Through questionable alliances.
More influential than a privy councilor, her Lady Grandmother proclaimed. Perhaps this is the occasion to discover how much of an influence she really has.
"I know I am far from the most knowledgeable in foreign affairs, but have you considered forging an alliance with Charles of Burgundy?" Bonnie questions; both of her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.
"Charles of Burgundy?" Niklaus repeats the name almost in confusion, for he clearly did not think of this possibility before. As a matter of fact, there was no other possibility, at least not where Warwick was concerned. His cousin is adamant that the only way to peace is by restoring relations with France.
"Well, Charles boasts a large fortune and enough men to aid us with an army should the need ever arise," Bonnie explains, trying not to sound too anxious or eager. "And he does share blood with my family, which would make him far less inclined to betray us. I cannot say the same for Louis."
While not prone to spending and boasting his own glories, Louis is a proud man, much like every man that has ever sat on the throne. The odds of him forgiving Niklaus for the offenses towards Aurora are certainly not in England's favor. Bonnie has no doubt the man is just biding his time.
"I did not know I had also married a strategic woman."
Bonnie bites her lower lip instead of responding, unsure whether Niklaus is impressed or amused by her advice.
"I merely wish for our safety, my love," she defends herself, beginning to question her own actions. "I do not mean to overstep."
Her Grandmother is a wise woman, but perhaps she was wrong in this matter. Perhaps her husband's blind loyalty to Warwick is even stronger than she has anticipated.
A sigh of relief rushes out of Bonnie's lips when he shakes his head and offers her a small smile.
"No, my little witch, your advice is sound and you could never overstep. As a matter of fact, I believe I enjoy this side of you."
And he really does. For all of the pomp and circumstance, being King tends to be lonely and frustrating. Having a wife willing to support him is quite a relief.
"Now that I have offered you most brilliant council, will you please come to bed?" She leans down so her lips are just grazing his left ear. "My confinement begins in a few days."
Realization dawns on him as he finally understands her unusual behavior. Well, not quite unusual, but for the most part, Bonnie is timid, especially when it comes to matters of their bedchambers. Maybe it is his child the cause for her boldness.
"Are you afraid, love?" Klaus murmurs the question as he pulls her into his lap, inhaling the sweet aroma of juniper on her skin.
"Yes," Bonnie admits; her warm breath on his neck eliciting goosebumps from him.
While Klaus is rather afraid, perhaps the most terrified he's ever been – what if she succumbs to childbirth like many other noble ladies?- he forces a confident expression on his face.
"It will not be long, and soon enough we will have our son," he promises; the words meant to pacify both of them.
"Will you be there when it happens?" Bonnie requests; the thought of being so far away from him terrifying to her. Childbirth may be a women's business, but she still wants him as close as possible. Especially if the worst comes to pass.
"I will. An uprising could break out and I would still be there with you and our son," Niklaus promises; blue eyes shining with honesty.
For the first time in the day, Bonnie can breathe easy. He will be there.
Palace of Westminster, London
June 1467
Though it is still early in the day, Niklaus already finds himself weary after having to perform countless tasks reserved to the monarch. Between the audiences granted to the Lords regarding the issues in their lands and the rolled up parchments that await his signature, it is a wonder how he still possesses his wits.
"It is far too early for you to be looking this tired, brother!" Elijah quips as he enters the study, chuckling when he receives a rather dangerous glare from Niklaus. "What is it?"
Niklaus immediately thinks of the reason for his less than cheerful disposition. Just a few days ago, Bonnie officially retired from court and left for Greenwich to begin her confinement.
Elijah laughs again; his suspicion confirmed.
"Have you come here to mock me, Elijah?" Klaus growls out in irritation, moving to pour small ale into his cup.
"Peace, brother," he says, raising both hands. His grin is still obvious, which only serves to annoy Klaus even more. "Your lack of confidence in me is astounding. I merely came to ask whether you would like to go on a hunt with us."
Klaus sips his beverage, considering the offer. Without Bonnie there, most of his days tended to be quite tedious. Perhaps a day of hunting would be what he needs to distract himself from her absence.
"Elijah!" Warwick cries out as he comes through the door. "Surely you are not attempting to make Niklaus shirk his duties?"
"Speaking of duties, there is a matter I have been meaning to discuss with you," Klaus states; his tone serious. "My sister Freya's marriage."
A pleased smirk curls Warwick's lips before he can even formulate a verbal response. What could be more advantageous to the treaty than marrying Niklaus' own sister to the third in line to the throne of France?
"Yes, I believe the Duke of Orleans will make a rather suitable match as the Enfant is still young. Freya will become a royal duchess."
"No, not that fool Tristan. I have realized I was being far too hasty in not acknowledging some other players in the game," Niklaus explains, satisfied with the stunned expression on his face. Finally, he is the one dealing the surprise card. "Write a letter to the ambassadors from Burgundy. I think Charles will make a very suitable match for my sister."
Niklaus' order is clear, but it doesn't quite register in Warwick's mind. The King must be mad!
"Niklaus, you cannot embarrass France in such manner!" Warwick exclaims; his voice holding such an unusual nervous tone that both brothers frown.
"Embarrass France or embarrass you?" Niklaus questions. "You are my dear cousin, but not think to abuse the favor I show you."
In just a few uttered words, the room becomes shrouded in an uncomfortable tension. Niklaus arches an eyebrow as he stares at his cousin, almost daring him to explain himself or to deny the unspoken accusation. Warwick, ever the politician, does neither. He is already familiar with Niklaus' raging moods and knows not to respond. He merely swallows the words he would like to say and bows his head.
"As you wish, Your Grace," he says, careful not to allow the anger to taint his voice. "I will see to that."
"Please do, cousin."
Warwick Castle, Warwickshire
June 1467
Not even the hours of journey from London to Warwick Castle are enough to subdue his rage.
"Damn him!" Alaric curses as he slams the oak door with as much force as his strength allows. "Damn him and that woman!"
"Husband!" Joanna exclaims as she hurries into the room; eyes wide with shock at seeing her husband in such spirits. This behavior is just not characteristic of him. "What is it?"
"I had to take leave from court after he dismissed my nephew as Bishop and gave Derby's brother the command of the fleet," Warwick says; hands still trembling. Blood rushes through his veins in such a furious way he can almost hear it. "The second son of a lower noble now commands the fleet. All of that after humiliating me in reneging on the treaty with France!"
Coming to stand next to Warwick, Joanna places a comforting hand on his shoulders.
"It is her handiwork, I'm sure!" Joanna huffs in indignation. How can an upstart presume to know about matters of the realm? At first glance, Joanna thought her to be an unsuitable, and yet harmless bride. Oh, how mistaken she was. "She is not the same mousey, wide-eyed girl. She grows bolder by the day."
"All the influence of that Grandmother of her, I have no doubt," Warwick spits out. "Sheila is as cunning as a fox. She is the one who convinced the late King to give her husband an Earldom and now she wishes to see her family restored to power!"
Joanna inhales sharply, bringing a hand to her chest to calm her racing heartbeat. The Queen may be a witch, but she is a consort. The little power she yields comes from the King. Having Lords from witch families sit on the Privy Council could be catastrophic.
"What can you do to halt this madness, husband?"
"As of right now, I can only make sure to keep my allies close and pray that she doesn't have a healthy son. I fear her influence will be too much to bear if that happens."
Joanna nods as she attempts to keep a neutral expression on her face. Surely a young, naïve witch could not hurt the Kingmaker himself.
Palace of Placentia, Greenwich
July 1467
Even though Bonnie was excited to be excused from court life and retire to Greenwich with her ladies-in-waiting and her Lady Grandmother, she has come to realize just how utterly boring confinement is.
The midwives and physicians follow her every move and insist on stripping her of any little joy she may have. Too much excitement for the baby may harm him, they allege. She does not mind when they prohibit her from dancing ever a slow Pavane, as her belly has become cumbersome. Neither does she mind when they instruct the musician to only play soothing tunes. It is only when the Doctor Linacre insists on locking all of the windows to keep the sunlight from entering that Bonnie finally loses her patience.
Sheila has to intervene when Bonnie refuses to listen to the physician, and only then a compromise is reached.
"Perhaps your cousin Kitty is better suited with the son of the Earl of Ormond," Sheila suggests, moving the piece that is meant to represent her granddaughter to the side.
Without mindless pleasures to keep them occupied, they have turned to an important matter that should be resolved.
"I trust your judgment, Grandmother," Bonnie assures as she rubs circles on her belly, attempting to calm her overexcited babe. "You remain the most knowledgeable in matchmaking and honestly, I have trouble in telling Kitty and Maggie apart from each other!"
"Oh, do not fret, for you have too many cousins and they are all alike!"
"Yes, most of them with dark hair and ahh!" Bonnie cries out and clutches her belly when a sharp pain seizes her body.
The ladies tasked with attending her drop their needlework and rush to their Queen's side.
"My lady?" Annie asks; her face pale and contorted into a terrified expression.
"Do not just stand there!" Sheila instructs as soon as the mist of surprise dissipates. "Fetch the midwife and the physician! Our little prince is about to be born!"
"Send for the King, too!" Bonnie orders with a hoarse groan, allowing her Lady Grandmother to lead her to bed.
"Yes, Your Grace!" Annie says as she hurries out of the chambers.
Stuck in a daze of pain, Bonnie can hardly tell how much time has passed. As a matter of fact, Bonnie finds that her mind has lost the ability to function. Every muscle in her body burns as if she had stepped into a raging fire and she's exhausted.
"The baby is almost here, Your Grace!" The midwife assures her as she looks up for a moment. "You just need to push!"
"Ahhh!" Bonnie releases a howl of pain as she focuses all her strength of pushing the baby out.
A lusty cry fills the quiet room, and Bonnie slumps back onto the mattress; drained of all energy.
"I want to hold my son," she murmurs to nobody in particular; a mist of confusion and fatigue settling over her.
Closed green eyes flutter open for a brief moment to glance at the ladies all huddled around the midwife. Brief, but long enough for Bonnie to see the frown on Annie's face.
Surely her son is alive? Or did her ears deceive her when she heard his crying, a clear sign of life?
"Grandmother, what is happening? Is there something wrong with my baby?" Bonnie questions; voice raspy and desperate as she tries to push her body into a sitting position.
"There is nothing wrong, my child," Sheila promises her; moving to take the pink bundle into her arms. "You have a healthy, baby girl."
A/N: And it's a baby girl! I bet many of you are not surprised by this turn of events and those who are, please don't be mad! Bonnie is an anointed Queen now after her coronation and Warwick is seething. I have already started planting a little seed for what's to come, did anyone catch it? As for those who were confused about Bonnie's lineage. Yes, she's descended from Queen Madeleine, but she is not a princess. After the Witch Queen was deposed, her descendants were no longer considered royal, and that is why they don't think she has royal blood. I hope that clears up any confusion! Next chapter we'll see how Klaus reacts to his baby girl!