Charlotte stretched her legs as far as she could, trying to put as much distance between all of her joints as possible. Every day and with every added pound, she felt as if she were shrinking into herself, morphing into some abnormal dense shape hell bent on nourishing the parasite that grew within her. Babies were like that, she'd been told, moving with you like a new organ. She was hot... and thirsty. So very thirsty. The water basin was completely filled but she knew instantly that she did not want it. She attempted to roll over and ask George to call a maid but was still unused to this body and only managed to just barely throw her head over her shoulder. George was not in bed.

Charlotte sighed deeply. The room was quiet so he was either in the observatory they'd recently had built at Buckingham or pacing anxiously in a far off hall. If he woke in the middle of the night, he worried about experiencing another spell and quickly left in order to keep her, and the baby, safe. The truth is, he'd never hurt her. He's never raised a hand to her intentionally or unintentionally, especially when co fused during a spell. In fact, she'd been angry during an argument simply because he would raise his voice at her.

She fought he pillows to sit up and swing her feet over the edge of the bed. Her toes touch the solid cold floor. That deformed bunny had stolen her slippers again. Charlotte forced herself to her feet and walked as quickly as she could to the door. Standing in one spot too long allowed the cold of the stone to seep into her feet, numbing them. The second her door began to creak open a guard and maid were standing directly in front of her, ready for whatever she may need.

It had been this way during all of this pregnancy. Her first had gone... traumatically. The baby had been breech and her wonderful George had needed to assist the doctors in delivering their first child. She'd thanked god for him days afterward while she rested and healed. The next pregnancy... had failed. She'd barely been aware of the pregnancy. One night however after she'd gone to bed, she'd felt ill and needed to call for a maid. George had been gone then too and she'd barely made it to the door.

A glance down had revealed her nightgown and the bed soaked in her blood. Upon standing, she'd found blood trickling still down her inner thighs. Charlotte had cried out, unsure of what was happening. She'd assumed she was dying. She'd die alone in that bed unable to even make it to the door for help. Only a single guard, half asleep had been waiting there. He'd stumbled at the sight of the blood between the legs and pulled several bells for help. That night she'd lost the baby.

She hadn't known that was possible. Mothers often told their daughter very little about birth. In fact they told them nothing about sex or child-rearing.

At the start of the pregnancy the castle manager had set a schedule with the maids and guards, hiring more staff so at least on maid was available to her and only feet away at all hours. The poor girl seemed alarmed to see Charlotte out of bed. She checked her watch before smoothing it back into her apron.

The girl, barely Charlotte's age, curtsied low, "Your majesty. How may I be of service? Is everything alright?"

"I require orange juice."

"Of course, your majesty. Please get back into bed and I will have brought to you momentarily."

"No. I must pick my own orange."

"But your majesty, it is..."

"Now, my dear."

Charlotte sometimes hated using her station this way. The girl only had her beast interest at heart but was required to do what she said.

"First, your majesty, I will fetch you some slippers and a robe," she turned to the guard ," and call Brimsely please."

The maid scurried into the room and returned with a sheer but warm robe and a pair of slippers. The guard rang a bell on his hip twice. The maid helped Charlotte into the items and by the time they were ready to walk, Brimsley was by their side.

"Good morning, your majesty," Brimsley bowed.

"What are you on about, Brimsely?"

"It is nearly 3 am, your majesty."

As a group of three, the maid close next to Charlotte and Brimsley five paces behind, shuffled through the castle and out into the cool night air. They moved more slowly due to Charlotte's small limitation but she still winded them. There were so many stars. This was actually why she wanted to pick oranges, but she still felt dumb saying this out loud. She was queen after all. The last thing she wanted to be seen as was frivolous. She marched to the greenhouse, stealing glances at the stars, the moon, Venus.

She was exhausted by the time they reached the greenhouse steps, and she stumbled up the last too, her lack of sleep clouding her awareness. Brimsely and the maid were immediately at either elbow.

Brimsley earnestly looked her in the eyes, "Perhaps, my queen, we should return. I can call for assistance.. have you carried to bed."

"No! I came to pick an orange for the orange juice and that is what I'll do. I'm fine."

Charlotte shook them off and hurried up the last of the stairs despite her body's protest. Once she was inside, she was shocked to find her skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her night gown clung to her, accentuating her rounding stomach, widening hips, and growing breasts. She shoved a stray piece of hair from her face and stood as straight as possible, trying to recover some of her dignity, not that it mattered.

Charlotte willed her eyes to adjust. Moonlight streamed through the glass ceiling, being sliced and divided by the tall trees and vivid green foliage. Her beloved orange trees stood twisted together near the fountain, perfuming the air with citrus. Sitting in a chair directly next to the water, reflected by its crystal face, was the love of her life, waiting for her with a mischievous smile.

"My Venus," George whispered.