A/N: The mention of 'her loss of self-control, going into continuous hysterics over a miserable trifle' that Hans talks about in the previous chapter is actually something Albert wrote to Victoria in 1853 after the birth of their son Leopold. It's suggested by historians that Victoria suffered from postnatal depression after each pregnancy, and it would not be surprising, given that she had seven of her first nine children in ten years.

Now, let's get back to it. - Licia

1908

The Garden of Linnea Castle

Arendelle

"Postnatal depression. The queen suffered from postnatal depression."

"She did, Bess, you're correct. It's quite common among new mothers- no matter if it's your first or your last." The young Romanian queen, bit her lip. She was foolish to believe that she herself would not suffer from the same once her child was born, but it made her feel a little better to know that even the fabled queen in her grandfather's story had suffered from it once too.

"She got better though, right?"

"She did, but it took time, as it often does."

"What about the princess? Did she study midwifery like she wanted?" Amalie asked; the girl had similar interests, and so had asked her mother if she could go into nursing as a teenager; her mother had permitted, and that had soon led to a career in midwifery. Despite being a princess of Denmark, the girl often helped assist laboring mothers in the poorer parts of the country.

Grandpapa chuckled softly, pulling Lisi back onto his lap as she began to slide off. "She did. The princess had felt as though she'd discovered her life's work; while she loved her sister greatly, she was grateful to be the secondborn. She could pursue her own interests as opposed to those of the courts and council, and with her sister's backing, she began her apprenticeship with the royal midwife not long after her youngest niece was born."

"Netta."

"Yes, Netta." He sighed. "She was a beautiful little thing, with blue eyes that went green as she grew and the king's fiery auburn curls. She quickly became Annes' favorite sister, and the young prince spent as much time as he could with the baby, reading to her and playing with her, and whenever she got sick, Annes often did as well, for he insisted on taking care of her- to the point where the king and queen had to forcefully separate the siblings."

"Why was he so close to her? They were... eight years apart in age." Annalise brought up.

"You and Bess are only a few minutes apart in age, Alise." Alexander replied. "And you're close."

The woman rolled her eyes. "But Bessie and I are twins, Sasha. We are bound to be close." The Romanian queen nodded in agreement, shifting in her chair, wincing slightly as the babe kicked in response to their mother's movement.

"It's suggested that the young prince was so close to his baby sister because they were both born with the princess's help, but that is just rumor. There is no real reason as to why some siblings are closer than others are. The tsar's daughters are all exceedingly close, aren't they, Thyra?" The duchess nodded.

"But they are also exceedingly close in age, 'papa. Barely a year or two between them all."

"Age can often affect a child's closeness with their siblings; but perhaps it was also because an outbreak of fever had swept through Arendelle and the Isles in the late eighteen-fifties."

"What kind of fever, Grandpapa?" Lisi asked, turning her bright eyes to him.

"Typhoid, my snowflake."

"Typhoid is deadly if not treated." Amalie spoke up; her first assignment as a nursing student had been in helping other nurses and doctors in the typhoid wards, so that she understood all manner of healthcare. She remembered the mothers-to-be who often came in with symptoms of the fever, and the number of both women and infants who didn't survive. To hear that the family in her grandfather's tale had been stricken with typhoid- "They were royals, they had the best treatment available, didn't they?"

"They did, but sometimes even the best treatments don't always help, and remember, this was the eighteen-fifties; they did what they thought would work. Medicine was not as advanced as now."

"There was an outbreak in the Americas- New York, I think- a couple years ago. A cook, come from Ireland." Peter spoke up; he'd been silent for the majority of the story. He had journeyed to the Americas on holiday a few years earlier, and returned to Russia with stories of the great cities upon the east coast. "She was a carrier, but not sick herself. She transmitted it to her employers, unaware that she carried the disease. They call her Typhoid Mary."

Amalie shivered and crossed herself, muttering a prayer. After a moment, Alise turned their attention back to the story. "When was the outbreak, Grandpapa?"

"Eighteen-fifty-eight, Alise." She quickly did the math in her head.

"We're at... fifty-four? So it happened four years later." He nodded. "How?" She sighed as he raised an eyebrow. "I know, that would be jumping ahead. But can't you tell us anything about it? Just a hint? Please?"

"Alise." She turned to her sister, huffing.

"Oh don't sit there and act like you aren't interested in the story, Bessie. You're as interested as everyone else. Besides, you and the queen have something in common. You're both with child." The scathing look her sister threw her could make the gods run. It was not unknown in the family that Alise was jealous of her sister; though Bess was younger than her by mere minutes, she had married first, would become a mother first. The unintentional rivalry between the pair had only strained their relationship, and Alise had a habit of taking it out on her much quieter, more contemplative sister. As he watched, he couldn't help seeing the queen and princess in his granddaughters- for Bess, not just in her looks, but also her personality, was a mirror image of the queen, despite the little differences, and Alise was the same for the princess.

It's as though reincarnation has taken place, my love. You would be proud to see that your beauty has carried on into the generations below. "That's enough, both of you." Both girls turned to him, instant looks of apology flashing across their faces. "Alise, your time will come, when you are ready, and not before. Do not take it out on your sister because she was ready but you aren't. Now, where were we?"

"Eighteen-fify-four, 'papa."

"Ah, yes. Well, by the time little Netta reached six months, the queen had been corresponding with the wives of the Sultan for years; and it was in the late fall of fifty-four that she received an invitation to Ottoman Empire to build an alliance. Of course, the king was not pleased with this development, for he did not entirely trust the Ottomans, no matter if Victoria had aided them in the Crimean War. In fact, it was only upon a visit to Victoria and Albert in England the month before Christmas that he agreed to see reason. But that does not mean he did not put up a good fight."