Share
MidReal Story
The Queen's Baby
Scenario:A woman named Eleanor who was the Queen and poet of France had her tenth miscarriage but on her 11th pregnancy she finally didn't have a miscarriage and had a lovely treasure of a pregnancy resulting in a little baby princess who she named Annette but everyone called her Anne or Annie, she had a kind husband named Harry who is kind, supporting and loved by his citizens
Create my version of this story
Darika the Royal Nurse
Darika is a compassionate and loyal female nurse devoted to serving Queen Eleanor and her family, having been by the Queen's side since her early days as a royal, she has nurtured countless young aristocrats, emblematic of patience and warmth, fostering a close friendship with both Queen Eleanor and King Harry, often described as petite with soft grey hair and gentle eyes that always seem to understand without words, she bears a serene presence that can calm the stormiest of tempers, unwavering in her duty and fiercely protective of the little princess Annette, whom she affectionately refers to as her 'sparkling star.'Darika has dark skin and beautiful black hair she usually braids into a bun.
Annette 'Anne' of France
Female, newly born Princess of France, daughter of Queen Eleanor, seen as a symbol of hope for the kingdom, she has a delicate and serene demeanor, fair skin with wisps of dark hair, expected to be intelligent and graceful like her mother.
Eleanor
A determined and resilient woman, Eleanor is the Queen of France and a renowned poet, known for her unwavering spirit despite the heartache of ten miscarriages, in her mid-thirties, she possesses a regal demeanor with striking auburn hair and compassionate hazel eyes, her relationship with her daughter, Princess Annette, is cherished deeply, and she is revered for her wisdom, creativity, and gentle but firm leadership.
I was pregnant again.
I knew it before the missed period, before the tiredness and nausea.
I knew it.
It was my eleventh pregnancy, and I was not surprised.
My body told me about its state every month, and I had learned to read its signals.
Ten times my body had told me that it held a little life inside me.
Ten times I had felt the growth of that life, the stir of the cells, the budding hope.
And ten times my body had told me that something was wrong, that the life inside me was too weak to survive.
I had not been surprised when I found out that I was pregnant again.
I had not been surprised when my jolly husband, Harry, who was also the King of France, came to my chambers and announced that he had news from Lady Isabelle Bertrand, my childhood friend and confidante.
He announced that he would soon become a father.
I was not surprised, but I was happy.
I had always wanted a child.
A little baby to hold in my arms and read my poems to.
A little baby to love and teach and watch grow into a fine young man or woman.
And this time, unlike all the other times, something felt different.
My body told me that it held a life inside me, but it also told me that this life was strong and healthy.
I made my way through the castle's east wing, where Lady Isabelle's chambers were located.
The east wing overlooked the royal gardens, which were in full bloom in the early summer.
I walked carefully, taking each step with measured deliberateness, as if each one was a precious treasure.
I did not want to risk disturbing the new life that was growing inside me.
The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows that lined the corridor, casting long shadows on the stone floor.
The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of flowers and fresh grass.
As I approached Lady Isabelle's chambers, I could hear her voice singing a soft melody.
She had a beautiful voice, clear and strong, like a bird singing in the trees.
I knocked softly on her door, not wanting to interrupt her song.
The singing stopped, and I heard her footsteps coming toward me.
The door opened, and there she stood, her chestnut hair caught up in a loose braid, her green eyes shining with welcome.
She smiled at me and opened her arms to embrace me. "My dear friend," she said, holding me close to her breast.
"I have been expecting you. You have come to tell me that you are pregnant again."
"Yes," I replied, smiling back at her.
"I am pregnant again. And this time I feel different. This time I feel strong and full of hope."
Isabelle stepped back from me and took my hand in hers.
"Come," she said, leading me into her chambers.
"Sit down and tell me about it. Tell me how you are feeling."
I sat down on a chair by the window and looked out into the garden.
The sun was shining down on the flowers, and they were blooming in every color of the rainbow.
Isabelle sat down on a chair opposite me and leaned forward to take my hands in hers.
"Now," she said, smiling at me.
"Tell me everything."
And so I told her everything that had happened since I discovered that I was pregnant again. I told her about my hopes and fears and doubts and dreams.
I told her about how this pregnancy felt different from all of the others.
And most importantly, I told her about this new feeling of strength that I felt growing inside of me.
Isabelle listened to every word that I said with complete attention and understanding.
When I had finished speaking, she rose from her chair and went over to a large carved wooden chest that was standing in the corner of the room.
She knelt down in front of it and opened the lid.
Then she reached inside and pulled out a small crystal pendant on a silver chain.
She held it out to me and smiled.
"This is for you," she said.
"This is a special amulet that has been passed down through generations of my family. It is said to protect expectant mothers from harm."
I leaned forward to examine the pendant more closely.
It was small and delicate, with intricate facets that caught the afternoon light.
I could see my reflection in its crystal surface, and I felt a strange sense of connection to it.
"It is beautiful," I said, taking the pendant from her hand.
"Thank you so much for giving it to me."
Isabelle smiled again and took the pendant from me.
Then she stood up and came over to where I was sitting.
She reached around my neck and fastened the pendant in place. "There," she said, stepping back to look at me.
"Now you are protected."
I touched the pendant lightly with my fingers.
It felt cool against my skin, but at the same time it seemed to radiate a warm energy.
I looked up at Isabelle, who was watching me intently.
Her eyes were full of concern and love, and I knew that she was thinking about all of the times that I had lost a child.
"I will be careful," I promised her.
"I will take good care of myself and my baby."
Isabelle nodded, but she did not say anything.
Instead, she turned away from me and walked over to the window.
She stood there looking out into the garden, and I could see the tension in her shoulders.
I sat there touching the crystal pendant, wondering what she was thinking.
And then suddenly we heard rapid footsteps coming down the corridor outside.
They were light and quick, as if someone was running.
We both turned to look at the door, and a moment later it burst open and a young messenger came rushing into the room.
He was breathless and his face was flushed from running.
He bowed low to Lady Isabelle and held out a sealed parchment in his hand.
"A message for you, my lady," he said, still panting from his exertions.
"It has just arrived from Provence."
Isabelle took the parchment from him and examined it carefully.
Then she broke the seal and unfolded it.
As she read the contents, her face grew pale with shock. "What is it?"
I asked her, rising from my chair to go to her side.
"It is a letter from my mother's cousin," she replied, handing me the parchment.
"She has passed away in Provence. She has left me all of her property."
I took the parchment from her hand and read it carefully.
It was written in an elegant script on fine vellum paper.
The words were formal and dignified, but they conveyed a sense of deep sadness and loss.
The writer was a lawyer who had been appointed to handle the estate of Lady Isabelle's mother's cousin.
He explained that she had died suddenly after a brief illness, and that she had left all of her property to Lady Isabelle.
The property included a large seaside château in Provence, as well as several other houses and estates throughout France.
It also included a collection of rare manuscripts and books that had been passed down through generations of her family. I looked up at Lady Isabelle, who was watching me intently.
Her eyes were full of emotion, but she did not say anything.
Instead, she reached out and took my hand in hers.
Then she led me over to a chair by the window and sat down beside me.
She took the parchment from my hand and began to read it again, this time more slowly and carefully.
As she read, I could see the tears welling up in her eyes.
I knew that she was thinking about her mother's cousin, who had been like a sister to her.
I also knew that she was thinking about all of the memories that they had shared together over the years.
I sat there with her in silence, waiting for her to finish reading the letter.
As she read, I could hear the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor outside.
They were light and quick, as if someone was running.
A moment later, another messenger came rushing into the room.
He was younger than the first one, and he looked nervous and unsure of himself.
He bowed low to Lady Isabelle and held out a rolled parchment in his hand.
"A message for you, my lady," he said, still panting from his exertions.
"It has just arrived from Provence."
Isabelle took the parchment from him and examined it carefully.
Then she broke the seal and unrolled it.
As she read the contents, her face grew pale with shock.
"What is it?"
I asked her, rising from my chair to go to her side.
"It is a description of the vineyard that my mother's cousin left me," she replied, handing me the parchment.
"It is located on the southern coast of France, near the city of Marseille. It is a large estate with many acres of land. The vineyard produces some of the finest wines in all of France."
I took the parchment from her hand and began to read it.
The words were written in a beautiful script on fine vellum paper. As I read, I could see that the vineyard was a very special place.
It was located on a hill overlooking the sea, and it had been in Isabelle's family for many generations.
The vineyard was known for its excellent wines, which were made from the finest grapes in all of France.
The grapes were grown on ancient vines that had been planted by Isabelle's ancestors many years ago.
They were carefully tended by skilled winemakers who used traditional methods to produce some of the best wines in all of France.
As I read about the vineyard, I could see that it was a very special place indeed.
It was not only a source of excellent wine but also a symbol of Isabelle's family's history and tradition.
I looked up at Isabelle, who was watching me intently as I read about her new inheritance.
Her eyes were full of emotion, but she did not say anything.
Instead, she reached out and took my hand in hers. Then she led me over to a chair by the window and sat down beside me.
As we sat there together, I could see that she was thinking about all of the memories that she had made at the vineyard over the years.
I could see that she was thinking about all of the times that she had visited the vineyard with her mother's cousin.
As I sat there in my favorite chair by the window, I watched as the sun began to set behind the castle walls.
The sky was painted with shades of pink and orange, and the air was filled with a warm golden light.
As I sat there, I felt a sudden flutter inside of me, like the brush of butterfly wings against my skin.
I froze, hardly daring to breathe, as I waited to see if it would happen again.
And then it did.
A small movement, like a tiny kick, pressed against my belly from the inside out.
I gasped in surprise and delight, and my hands trembled as I pressed them against my growing belly.
It happened again, stronger this time, and I knew without a doubt that it was my child moving inside of me. I sat there for a long time, hardly able to move or breathe as I felt the gentle movements of my baby inside of me.
I wanted to run and find Harry, to tell him the news and share in his joy.
But for now, I just sat there and savored the moment, enjoying the feeling of life growing inside of me.
"Isabelle," I whispered, breaking the silence, "I felt the baby move."
Her eyes widened with a mixture of joy and relief.
"That's wonderful," she said softly, squeezing my hand, "it's a sign that everything will be alright."
I hear rapid footsteps approaching Lady Isabelle's chambers before the heavy wooden door swings open.
Harry stands in the doorway, his face flushed and beaming with excitement.
His eyes lock onto my hands still resting on my belly.
"Is it true?" he asks breathlessly, crossing the room in three long strides.
I nod, happy tears welling in my eyes.
He drops to his knees beside my chair, taking my hand in his.
"Can I feel?"
I place his hand where the baby had been kicking.
We wait in tense silence until another flutter comes.
Harry's eyes widen with wonder, and he drops to his knees beside my chair.
Harry's eyes light up with wonder as he feels the movement.
"It's incredible," he whispers, his voice filled with awe.
Isabelle smiles softly, watching us both. "This child will bring us all closer together," she says, her voice full of hope.
I make my way through the winding corridors of the castle, following the familiar path to Darika's quarters.
Her rooms are located near the royal nursery, a convenient arrangement for the castle's midwife.
As I approach her door, I catch the scent of dried herbs and lavender wafting from within.
The fragrance is comforting and familiar, reminding me of all the times I've sought Darika's guidance and care.
I pause outside her door, taking a moment to catch my breath.
My hand instinctively rests on my growing belly, a gesture that has become second nature to me in recent months.
I knock softly on the door, and Darika's warm voice invites me in.
As I enter, I see her seated at her wooden table, grinding medicinal herbs with a mortar and pestle.
Her dark hands move with practiced ease as she works, her eyes focused intently on the task at hand.
She looks up as I approach, a smile spreading across her face.
"Good day, my lady," she greets me warmly.
I return her smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I settle into the cushioned chair she offers me.
Darika sets aside her work and busies herself preparing a cup of chamomile tea for us to share.
The aroma fills the room, mingling with the scent of herbs and lavender. "We need to discuss preparations for the baby's arrival," Darika says as she hands me a steaming cup of tea.
"But first, let us check on your health."
She places a gentle hand on my abdomen, pressing carefully around my growing belly.
"How have you been feeling?" she asks, her eyes locked on mine as she awaits my response.
"Any discomfort or pain?"
I take a sip of the soothing tea before answering.
"Generally well," I reply honestly.
"Some fatigue and occasional back pain, but nothing out of the ordinary."
Darika nods thoughtfully, making a note on a piece of parchment beside her.
"And your appetite? Has it increased significantly?"
"Yes," I admit with a small laugh.
"I find myself craving all sorts of foods these days."
Darika smiles knowingly.
"That is to be expected," she says, rising from her seat.
"Now, let us take a look."
She leads me to a small examination room adjacent to her main quarters.
The room is dimly lit, with a single candle casting a warm glow over the space.
Darika busies herself preparing the examination bed, laying out fresh linens and a soft blanket.
The scent of lavender and herbs lingers in the air as she works.
Once everything is ready, she gestures for me to lie down on the bed.
I do so, feeling the softness of the linens beneath me.
Darika washes her hands in a nearby basin filled with warm water before returning to my side.
Her dark hands are steady and warm as she begins her examination.
She gently palpates my swollen belly, checking the position of the baby and monitoring its growth.
As she works, I notice how her brow furrows slightly in concentration, her grey-streaked braid falling forward over her shoulder. After a few moments, she presses near my ribs, and I wince involuntarily at the slight discomfort.
Darika's eyes meet mine apologetically as she adjusts her touch.
"Forgive me," she murmurs softly.
"I must ensure that all is well."
I nod understandingly, taking a deep breath as she continues her examination.
Her experienced fingers map every contour of my growing child, checking for any signs of distress or irregularity.
As she works, I feel a sense of trust and reassurance wash over me.
I press gently along the lower curve of her belly, feeling the firm roundness beneath my palms.
The baby shifts position, causing a ripple across the skin.
Moving my hands methodically, I trace the outline of tiny limbs and what feels like a small back.
Eleanor watches my face intently, searching for any sign of concern.
But today, everything feels exactly as it should - the size, the position, the movements.
I help Eleanor sit up slowly, supporting her back with extra pillows.
I help Queen Eleanor off the examination bed, ensuring she's steady on her feet.
As she adjusts her gown, I gather the used linens and herbs, tidying the space while keeping one eye on her movements.
The queen thanks me warmly, her hand resting on her swollen belly, before walking toward the door.
I watch her leave, noting how she carries herself with more confidence now.
Just as I turn to organize my supplies, a sharp, stabbing pain strikes my lower abdomen.
I clutch the edge of the wooden table, my knuckles turning white as the pain intensifies.