Unlike many of the other royal children, this babe did not wait for the midwife; in fact, this babe, like their brothers, wasn't waiting for anyone to help it enter the world but their mother. With Hans and Lord Bismarck off to fetch various midwives, Anna helped her sister into the bedchamber, the door slamming shut behind them. Elsa grabbed onto the footboard of the bed, her knees giving out as her waters, bulging greatly, burst.
Anna rushed to help lower her carefully to the floor; sitting with legs spread wide, her back against the footboard, Elsa let out a groan, her body now in complete control and her focus only on the task at hand. "It's okay, Lise, you're doing good! You're doing so well-" She reached up, brushing several strands of hair from her sister's forehead as the queen bore down, letting out a groan that morphed into a scream. "I don't understand why Hans was so worried-"
"Annalise?"
"Yes?"
"... stop... talking..."
"Right, right. Sorry. I'll go... I'll be right back." The princess immediately snapped her mouth shut, and then stood, rushing to the bathroom and gathering what she could; she could hear the distant sound of footsteps, and hoped it was either Lord Bismarck or Hans returned with the midwife, or perhaps Helena and Marta or a couple of the other maids. Her sister's scream interrupted her thoughts, and she hurried back into the room to see the 6very, very familiar sight of a head with matted curls making its appearance6.
No matter how many years passed, no matter how many children her sister carried, the princess would never get over the amazement of watching her sister birth. It took a strength that Anna herself knew she would never possess. "Oh..." She bit her lip. "this is Annes all over again..." She muttered nervously, remembering the night eight years earlier when she'd awoken and come into the room to find her sister in the midst of heavy labor with her second-born. Snapping out of her memories, she hurried back to Elsa's side to help, being careful not to lose too much water from the basin she's filled in the bathroom.
But Elsa wasn't paying any attention; solely focused on the birth, she straightened, pushing herself up as she grit her teeth and pushed harder with the next contraction. By the time Anna had set the basin and cloth down and then gathered her skirts to kneel beside her sister, the babe was out to the hips. "Oh... okay... so this one's decided to come fast..."
With one last, hard push, Elsa let out a bellow; the babe slid out of her and into the world with a burst of blood and fluid, strong cries reaching the sisters' ears. Elsa laid her head back against the footboard, chest heaving as she worked on catching her breath, as the door finally opened. As Anna gently scooped the babe up, lifting it from between her sister's legs, the queen turned her head, to see Marta, Helena, Hans, Lord Bismarck, and both the royal midwife and the local midwife in the doorway. Seconds passed, before the children poked their heads around the adults. Anna turned to the others, smiling softly at her brother-in-law. "It's a girl, Your Majesties."
Elsa turned back to her sister, and Anna quickly laid the babe in her arms, meeting her older sister's gaze; something passed between the sisters in one look; a shared kinship- it had been Anna who had been there to help Elsa deliver her second born all those years ago in January of forty-six, and it only seemed right that it was Anna again who was here to help Elsa deliver her youngest. Though Anna felt she would never have children, she seemed to have a knack for midwifery- or, at least, support, in the form of a doula- and that, to Anna, seemed the closest she would ever get to children of her own, and she seemed fine with it. She was still young, and as the secondborn to the throne of Arendelle, now further down the line in the possibility of ruling thanks to Elsa's children, she did not have to worry about producing an heir as much as her sister did. In fact, if anything, she felt as though she'd possibly found her calling.
Gently, she laid the baby in her sister's arms. Seeing the look of absolute love bloom on her sister's exhausted features made the princess's heart constrict, and it seemed, that despite the absolute pain the queen had endured during the birth, the sight and feel of the babe now in her arms more than made up for it.
"What did you say, Lise?" Anna asked at her sister's breathy whisper. The queen didn't tear her gaze from the baby in her arms as she spoke.
"Netta."
"Netta?" The princess's brow furrowed in confusion. Elsa nodded, before tearing her gaze from the baby to find her husband standing in the doorway.
"Thyra Annette."
The king chuckled softly, moving towards them; it was clear his wife had already made up her mind in regards to the name, and he swallowed thickly, knowing exactly where the 'Thyra' had come from- his beloved grandmother, Thyra Louise Alexandrina, Crown Princess of Norway, had been crowned Queen of the Isles at the tender age of sixteen when she'd married Johannes Andreas Westergård. Thyra Louise had died when Hans was a mere boy of ten, and he had been devastated; of all the royal grandsons, Thyra had been closest to her youngest.
Once everything had been cleaned up and the queen was settled within the blankets of the bed, Hans brought the children over to meet their new sibling. Anna watched from the doorway as her brother-in-law kissed her sister soundly, before turning his gaze to the babe in her arms. She longed for what they had, but was now willing to admit that it may never happen. "You have quite a gift, Deres Høyhet. Have you considered that perhaps your calling is in the service of midwifery?"
The princess met the midwife's gaze, thinking. "I don't know that Her Majesty would allow such a thing." The older woman turned her gaze to the young monarchs.
"It is not for Hennes Majestet to deny a calling given by the gods. She herself was chosen to take the throne; to force one to deny their calling is to turn their back on the gods. Less wise rulers than her have turned their backs on the gods, and lost their lives and crowns for it; your sister is wiser than all of them." They turned back to the royals. "Consider it, Deres Høyhet, for you have a gift. Many lesser royals than you have gone down similar paths in life."
She hurt in places she forgot she had; despite it only being a couple weeks after the birth, she still felt every pain, every dull ache. Netta was asleep in her bassinet, having just finished feeding, and that left Elsa with nothing to do but watch the flames dance in the fireplace. She could not describe the overwhelming sense of sadness that filled every corner of her mind, the lack of interest she seemed to possess in regards to her youngest daughter- and even her other children. Vague memories of this feeling following each of her other births came to mind, but they did nothing to help rid her of such feelings again. Her gaze darted up as Marta came into the room, setting the tea down on the nightstand; the clink of cup on saucer unintentionally loud in the quiet. "Thank you, Marta."
The girl nodded, before going to the vanity and grabbing the hairbrush before returning to her side. "Please, Majesty-"
Slowly, Elsa let her gaze meet the girl's, before she pulled the covers aside and shifted to the edge of the bed. Accepting the girl's hand, she stood. Once seated at the vanity, she watched in silence as the girl gently ran the brush through her hair, carefully working it through the floor-length curls. Once it was completely brushed, Marta began to braid it, humming softly to fill the silence. A moment passed, before Elsa sniffled; it was a lullaby she remembered her mother singing to her as a child, and she reached up, feeling the wetness upon her cheeks. Neither heard the door open, and Elsa only looked up when Hans entered, Anna following.
"Come now, Majesty, it will be all right. Papa says my Mama felt the same after I was born, but it eventually passed. And the little princess, she is just as beautiful as her siblings." The girl continued to work, and Hans and Anna watched as she slowly pulled Elsa's long, thick floor-length hair into a crown braid, that wrapped multiple times around her head. Once she set the last pin, Elsa reached up, taking her wrist.
"Thank you, Marta. You can go."
The girl curtsied quickly before excusing herself, pausing only long enough at the door to all the princess to step aside so she could leave. "What do you want, Hans?"
The teenager stopped; she knew the king and princess harbored no ill will towards the queen, but she, like Helena, Agathe and Sigrid- the queen's other handmaids and ladies- couldn't help but feel exceedingly protective of the monarch. Unlike the rest of the court, the four young women were constantly by the queen's side; they, like the princess, were her confidantes, her most trusted; they alone knew the heartache the queen felt at being separated from the king. When it came to the queen's confidences, Marta and the other girls would follow her to the ends of the earth to keep them. She glanced back, in time to see the king kneel before the queen and gently brush his fingers against her cheek. A moment passed, before he closed the gap, kissing her softly. Taking a deep breath, Marta shut the door softly behind her, keeping such a private moment between the pair, leaving only the princess as their witness.