Share
MidReal Story
The Royal Vixen
Scenario:Hi, my name is Crown Princess Serena and my Husband is Crown Prince Ash. I have a secret: I get really car sick, but I have my crown headphones and try to focus on that and when We stop I don't get out or eat anything only to find out that I am Pregnant and My father is no help and We look to Ash's family and they help us out
Create my version of this story
Serena
and loving. Serena struggles with car sickness, revealing her vulnerability. During a royal tour, she secretly discovers she is pregnant, causing turmoil. Her husband, Crown Prince Ash, supports her emotionally. Despite her father's disapproval and lack of support, Serena finds solace in her family and Ash's family. She navigates the revelation with the help of her sisterinlaw and grandmother.
Crown Prince Ash
and responsible. Ash discovers Serena's pregnancy and vows to protect her. He faces opposition from his grandfather, the reigning king, over his marriage to a princess from a lower rank. Despite these challenges, Ash remains devoted to Serena and seeks to strengthen their bond through shared responsibilities, including preparing for parenthood.
Duchess Sophia
and understanding. Sophia plays a crucial role in helping Serena navigate her pregnancy crisis by providing emotional support and practical advice. Her friendly demeanor contrasts with her husband's sternness, creating a balance within the family dynamics.
I am Crown Princess Serena and my Husband is Crown Prince Ash.
"Ready?"
Ash asked me as he started the car.
I nodded and put my crown headphones on.
I have a secret: I get really car sick, but I don't want to tell anyone because I don't want them to think of me as weak.
So, I just put my headphones on and focus on the music.
It's the best way to not think about the car moving and my stomach twisting and turning.
We stopped at a few places and I didn't get out of the car, nor did I eat anything.
I just kept putting my headphones back on whenever they tried to talk to me.
When we finally stopped at our last destination, I was so happy that I didn't need to get back in that car for a while.
I quickly got out and took a few deep breaths, trying to stop my stomach from turning and twisting.
"Serena?"
Ash asked as he came up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders.
"I am fine," I said as I turned around and smiled at him.
"I just need a few minutes."
He looked at me, confused, and then nodded when he understood.
"I will meet you inside," he said before he turned and left me alone.
I took a few more deep breaths before I reached into my bag and pulled out a small white stick.
My hands trembled as I stared at the two pink lines.
The garden around me became blurry as tears welled up in my eyes.
I heard footsteps coming toward me on the gravel path and quickly zipped my bag shut, wiping my face with my sleeve.
A servant walked past, carrying a basket of fresh linens.
I forced myself to stand straight and smoothed down my dress before checking my reflection in my phone screen.
The grand manor's entrance was just ahead, where Ash was waiting with his family for afternoon tea.
"Serena, is everything alright?" Ash asked gently as I approached him.
I hesitated, then whispered, "Ash, there's something I need to tell you... I'm pregnant."
His eyes widened in shock and then softened with a warmth that made my heart flutter.
He pulled me into a secluded alcove off the main hallway, his hands gentle on my shoulders.
I watched his face intently, searching for any sign of distress or disappointment.
But instead, his eyes shone with unshed tears, and a small smile played at the corners of his lips.
Through the window behind him, I could see his family gathering in the tea room, their voices muffled by the heavy wooden door.
My stomach churned with morning sickness, and I gripped Ash's arm for support.
He steadied me, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, carefully dabbing at my eyes.
Still steadying myself against the alcove wall, I watched as his expression shifted from concern to determination.
He guided me to sit on the cushioned window seat, his hands never leaving mine.
Through the stained glass, afternoon light cast colorful shadows across our faces.
He lowered himself to one knee, and my breath caught in my throat.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he produced a small velvet box.
His voice trembled slightly as he began speaking, but his eyes remained fixed on mine.
"Serena, from the moment I met you, I knew that you were the one for me. Will you marry me?"
"Yes," I whispered, feeling the weight of our future settle warmly around us.
I press my face into Ash's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and leather.
His arms encircle me protectively as we stand in the alcove, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the stained glass.
The velvet ring box sits open on the window seat beside us, the diamond catching rainbow light.
My fingers grip the back of his jacket, steadying myself against another wave of nausea.
He strokes my hair gently, murmuring soft words of comfort.
When the dizziness passes, I lift my head to meet his gaze, but before I can speak, footsteps approach from the tea room.
I press closer to him, my fingers tightening on his jacket as the footsteps echo across the marble floor.
Through my blurry vision, I make out a figure approaching from the tea room.
She pauses at the entrance to the alcove, her emerald-handled cane resting against the wall.
Her eyes move from my pale face to Ash's protective stance, then to the ring box still open on the window seat.
Understanding flickers across her features before she composes herself once more.
I try to straighten up and greet her properly, but another wave of nausea washes over me.
Ash steadies me, his grip firm and reassuring.
"Mother," Ash begins, his voice steady but filled with an unspoken plea.
She nods slowly, her gaze softening as she takes in the scene before her.
"I see you've made your choice, Ash," she says quietly, a hint of approval in her tone.
I lean against the alcove wall, gathering what strength I have left.
She steps closer, her eyes never leaving mine.
She reaches out and touches my cheek with cool fingers.
The emerald ring on her hand catches the fading light.
"Let's get you somewhere more comfortable, dear," she says softly, gesturing toward a nearby sitting room.
Ash helps me walk, his arm around my waist as another wave of nausea hits.
The sitting room is warm and inviting, with plush sofas and armchairs arranged around a crackling fireplace.
Duchess Sophia guides me to the sofa, and I sink gratefully into its soft cushions.
Ash sits beside me, holding my hand tightly.
The duchess sits across from us, her hands folded in her lap as she waits for us to speak.
I glance at Ash, who nods encouragingly.
My fingers intertwine with his as I take a deep breath.
Before I can say anything, a servant enters the room with a tray bearing steaming cups of ginger tea and a plate of crackers.
I cradle the delicate teacup in my trembling hands, inhaling the spicy ginger aroma.
Duchess Sophia watches me with concern as I take small, careful sips.
The warmth seeps through my fingers, providing a momentary comfort.
Ash's hand remains steady on my back, offering reassurance.
But the solace is short-lived as another wave of nausea rises in my throat, stronger than before.
I set the cup down with a clatter, my fingers pressing against my lips.
Ash quickly grabs a nearby waste bin, while Duchess Sophia hurries to pull my hair back.
I heave into the bin, my body shaking with each wave of nausea.
The ginger tea burns in my throat as it comes back up.
Ash holds me steady, his hands warm against my trembling shoulders, while Duchess Sophia continues holding my hair.
After what feels like forever, the retching finally stops.
My legs give out, and I collapse back against Ash's chest.
His heartbeat thumps steadily against my ear as exhaustion washes over me.
My eyes grow heavy, and I feel him adjusting me into a more comfortable position.
"There's something you need to know," Duchess Sophia says, her voice gentle but firm.
Ash tenses beside me, his grip tightening slightly.
"What is it, Mother?" he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
I wipe my mouth with the handkerchief Ash offers, while Duchess Sophia rises from her chair and walks to a carved wooden cabinet in the corner.
The emerald rings on her fingers glint in the firelight as she pulls out a small key from the chain around her neck.
She unlocks the cabinet with a soft click and pulls out a worn leather journal.
Returning to her seat, she opens it carefully, revealing pages yellowed with age.
"Before your father married me," she begins, her voice trembling slightly, "he was secretly engaged to another."
Ash's hand tightens around mine as his mother continues to turn the fragile pages.
"He never told me," Ash murmurs, disbelief lacing his words.
Duchess Sophia nods, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and resolve.
"And that woman was your real mother, my dear," she reveals, her gaze steady on Ash's face.
I watch as she closes the journal, her hands trembling slightly.
The revelation hangs heavy in the air.
Ash's breathing becomes uneven beside me.
His grip on my hand loosens, and I feel him pull away.
The muscles in his jaw tighten as he stares at the journal, then at his mother.
Without a word, he rises from the sofa, his movements stiff and mechanical.
My heart races as he walks toward the door.
I push myself up, fighting another wave of dizziness, and stumble after him.
My fingers barely catch the sleeve of his jacket as he strides down the dimly lit hallway.
My head spins, and the nausea threatens to return, but I force myself to keep going.
The revelation hangs in the air, a weight that presses upon my chest.
He stops abruptly at the grand staircase, his back rigid and unyielding.
The evening light filters through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor.
I steady myself against the ornate banister, my stomach lurching again.
I force myself to remain upright, refusing to let my body betray me any further.
"Please," I whisper, tightening my grip on his sleeve.
"Don't shut me out now."
Slowly, he turns to face me, his eyes a mix of confusion and hurt.
I lean against the banister, my legs shaky from the nausea and the weight of my emotions.
His shoulders finally drop from their tense position, and he turns to face me fully.
His eyes, still haunted by the revelation, soften as they meet mine.
When another dizzy spell hits me, I sway slightly.
He steps forward immediately, wrapping one arm around my waist to steady me.
Without a word, he guides me back toward the sitting room.
His grip is gentle but firm.
At the doorway, he pauses, takes a deep breath, and squeezes my hand before reaching for the handle.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I just... I need time to process all of this."
I nod, understanding the turmoil within him, and reply, "I'll be here when you're ready to talk."
I watch as he paces across our bedroom, his footsteps wearing a path in the plush carpet.
His eyes are fixed on the papers in his hand, filled with notes from his investigation into his birth mother.
He's been pouring over these documents for what feels like the hundredth time, ever since Duchess Sophia revealed the shocking truth about his past.
But his search has become more frantic as my due date approaches.
My back aches against the wall where I'm standing, trying to reason with him.
The sharp kick from our baby makes me wince, and I grab my swollen belly instinctively.
Ash stops his pacing abruptly and rushes over to me.
He places his warm hand next to mine just in time to feel another kick.
"Whoa," he whispers, a mix of wonder and concern in his voice.
"It's getting stronger."
I lean against the bedroom wall, clutching my stomach as another wave of nausea hits me.
Ash's warm hand stays on my belly where our baby just kicked, but the comfort quickly turns to discomfort.
My throat tightens with that familiar feeling.
I push past Ash, stumbling toward our private bathroom.
The scattered papers about his birth mother crunch under my feet as I rush by.
I barely make it to the toilet before retching violently.
I grip the toilet bowl tightly, my knees aching against the cold marble floor.
Ash's warm hands gather my hair away from my face, holding it back as I heave.
Between retches, I hear his voice, soft and reassuring.
"It's okay," he murmurs.
"I'm here."
The papers about his birth mother lie forgotten on the bedroom floor.
My stomach churns, emptying its contents into the toilet.
When the retching finally stops, I slump back against Ash, exhausted.
He reaches for a washcloth and wipes my mouth gently.
"I've got you," he says, his voice filled with concern.
He helps me up from the floor, my legs shaky.
The cool tile beneath my feet gives way to plush carpet as we make our way back to our bed.
My stomach still churns, but less violently now.
Ash's hand on my back steadies me while he pulls back the covers with his free arm.
The papers about his birth mother crunch under our feet, but he ignores them, focusing entirely on settling me against the pillows.
Just as I think the nausea has passed, another wave hits me.
"Maybe it's time to focus on us, on the baby," Ash says, his voice gentle but firm.
I look up at him, searching his eyes. "And what about your mother?"
"I'll get to her eventually," he replies, his voice steady.
"But right now, you and our baby are my priority."
He moves away from me, gathering the papers from the floor.
His hands shake slightly as he stacks them neatly.
Then, with a deliberate motion, he places them in his desk drawer and closes it firmly.
Coming back to me, he adjusts my pillows and checks my forehead for fever.
I rest against the headboard, watching him move with purpose.
Another wave of nausea hits me, and he quickly grabs the waste bin.
This time, instead of rushing back to his papers like before, he sits beside me on the bed.
I rest my head against his shoulder, feeling his thumb stroke my palm gently.
The evening light casts long shadows across the floor where the papers had been scattered earlier.
My stomach churns, but I focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me.
As another wave of dizziness hits me, I grip his hand harder.
He immediately shifts to support more of my weight, his other arm wrapping around my waist.
I sink deeper into his embrace as another wave of nausea washes over me.
The bedroom grows darker, but he doesn't move to turn on any lights.
Instead, he adjusts our position on the bed, propping me against his chest while keeping the waste bin within reach.
His fingers trace gentle circles on my back.
When I start trembling from exhaustion, he pulls our blanket around us both.
My stomach lurches again, but this time it's less violent.
I watch him pace back and forth across our bedroom floor, muttering something about the baby being overdue.
My back aches terribly as I lower myself into the armchair by the window.
The evening light casts long shadows, and he checks his pocket watch for the hundredth time today.
When I shift to get more comfortable, a sudden warm gush between my legs makes me freeze.
I look down at the growing wet spot on my dress, then up at Ash, who's still pacing.
"Ash," I call out, my voice shaking.
"My water just broke."
I grip the arms of the chair tightly as another wave of pain hits me.
Ash hurries over, his face a mix of panic and determination.
He helps me stand, supporting most of my weight as my legs shake beneath me.
The wet fabric of my dress clings uncomfortably to my thighs.
When I try to take a step, a contraction makes me double over, clutching my belly.
Ash steadies me with one arm while reaching for our packed hospital bag with the other.
My breath comes in short gasps as he guides me toward our bedroom door, whispering words of encouragement.
I lean heavily against the bedroom wall, watching him pull out his phone with trembling fingers.
He dials the hospital number, and despite his obvious nerves, his voice comes out remarkably calm.
"Yes, my wife's water just broke," he explains to the nurse on the other end.
Another contraction hits me hard, making me slide down the wall slightly.
Ash catches me with his free arm, still holding the phone with his other hand.
"How long between contractions?"
The nurse's voice is muffled but urgent through the phone.
"About five minutes," Ash responds, his voice steady despite the panic in his eyes.
"And how much fluid did she lose?"
"A fair amount. Her dress is soaked."
"Is she experiencing any pain or discomfort?"
"Yes, contractions are getting stronger by the minute."
"Alright, sir. Please bring her in right away."
Ash nods repeatedly, still holding me up.
"Yes, we're on our way."
