The door opened, closed shortly after with a soft tap.
Isabelle had entered the large, spacious and dark royal studio.
She clutched on her chest, in front of her small breasts, swollen by her pregnancy, some block of documents, which she had just obtained from one of her usual room meetings.
It was dark, but it so hot that tiny droplets of sweat had begun to fall on her pale forehead.
The princess kept her pink and thin lips parted to receive some fresh air.
Her long hair, blond and wavy descended on her back to her bottom.
Isabelle put the documents on the desk with so much effort and she almost felt faint.
She was already in her ninth month and she was still attending the crown council, giving speeches and discussing with the most important members of the English aristocracy.
The baby could have been born at any moment, yet she continued to carry out her work.
It was evening, the sun had already set behind the high and grassy green hills, she almost fainted as she placed the documents that would finish her working day on the wooden table lit by the light of the last candles.
Isabelle was exhausted, she felt the baby stamp its feet in her womb.
She slowly looked at Aleksei's desk set up on one side of the room, she quickly gave a look at the documents which he had written, analysed and signed.
That young man was smart, the princess feared he might usurp her place on the throne.
But it was useful to have another prince by her side, he had promised her that they would rule together.
They would do a good job together, at least as long as Isabelle needed him and she was the ruler instead of him.
She tightly squeezed the wooden corner of the desk, she didn't know what was happening but it was hard to breathe now and the more she breathed the more the baby continued to forcefully shake its body against his mother's abdomen.
Isabelle did not know what was happening but she was afraid as she felt the restlessness of her baby.
Her underwear became wet with in a clear liquid and specks of blood red, as if her period had returned.
She was holding one of her small hands against her dress on her lap.
The princess began to feel the first contractions of childbirth, actually the baby was perhaps about to be born.
On the other hand, Isabelle had to expect it as she had now entered the ninth month a few weeks ago.
She managed with great difficulty to stagger her body towards the long sofa covered in precious purple-red yarn, where she sat down.
She lifted part of the long skirt of her dress, slowly and with difficulty lowered her wet white underwear and lay down covering the whole sofa with her own little body.
She called for help, hoped someone could hear her, at least her guards who were guarding the door.
-Is everything fine, your majesty?- asked one of the two royal guards from the other side of the door, ready, in need, to open the door and help the princess.
Drops of sweat were running down her pale forehead, lit by the glow of the flames of the candles.
-The child...- she said, almost unable to speak in pain -the time has come-.
Hearing that prayer for help, the princess soon heard, the heavy leather soles moving away from the door, almost running away.
-Don't you worry- tried to reassure her one of the guards who had stayed there -we will immediately inform the midwife and your mother-.
Isabelle felt almost relieved although she felt severe pain from the birth, they would soon come to help her.
She felt more and more the head of her little one approaching the outside, but it would have been difficult to bring the baby into the world if no one soon came to assist her.
She kept her fists closed clinging to the fabric of the smooth chair as she noticed in her womb, the baby pushed with more force and power.
The little one wanted to be born, this could not be denied.
Soon the midwife with the company of many other attendants arrived inside the large study.
The elderly woman, who had been living at court for days now, was still dressed in a long white nightgown when she had rushed for the fact.
She had gotten there almost too late as the top of the baby's tiny head had begun to squeeze out of her mother's body.
In any case the woman tried to compensate for her delay by placing a warm towel under the young woman's underwear and another soaked in hot water to clean the blood.
The baby would be born in less than five minutes, and in the time before Isabelle was able to manage the pain of childbirth on her own.
Anyway, her fingers were soon dipped into small porcelain bowls containing hot water and lemon juice, and a hot herbal tea was also prepared for the princess to relieve the pain.
She drank a few sips, it was bitter and smelled of aromas and wild herbs, the princess didn't like it and it didn't seem to have any effect, so much so that, shortly after in the dark of the night that little life soon slipped out of her body.
It was all soon over, all the pain, all the worries were over.
Everything became calmer and more relaxed as a loud but sweet cry suddenly broke the cold silence of the night.
But instead of seeing the people who surrounded her jubilant and happy for the birth of their new monarch, not a single noise seemed to be heard in the air.
Isabelle opened her eyes, glanced at the midwife at her attendants, all the people around her stared at the little crying body of her baby without doing or saying anything.
They looked at the baby with an impressed, almost frightened look so much so that some of them took a few steps back.
Isabelle had a panic attack, why did everyone let her child cry desperately without doing anything? How come they looked at its little body without a single word?
-What is wrong?- came out almost like a whisper, like a hiss from her lips -what happened to my dear baby?-.
A long silence followed the young woman's question, still anxious for her child.
How come no one spoke? Why did no one dare answer her?
The midwife slowly took the little body in her arms, wiped it with the white, soft cloth, wiped the dry blood from the baby's body.
-She is a girl, my lady- the midwife admitted slowly closing the little body of the baby girl in a white and soft silk cloth -but your daughter, she is cursed, she is a ghost-.
Those unusual and unexpected words of the midwife made the princess' blood run cold in her veins.
Her daughter, her child could not have died, she was sure, certain, having heard her move and cry once she went out and came into the world.
The elderly woman placed her baby's body on the mother's lap and from that moment the princess was aware of what the midwife was insinuating about her daughter.
She never seen a baby like her, a beautiful baby with those characteristics.
The smooth skin of the baby instead of being reddened by childbirth was so pale that it almost seemed to have the colour of the white cloth in which she was wrapped.
The little girl furthermore, had her head covered by numerous, smooth and wet white hair, so clear and pure it seemed to be the colour of the snow or some clear cloud that covered the blue sky during the day.
The baby's eyes turned from right to left, looking for the light and observing through shadows and luminosity the new world she had born into.
The color of the little girl's eyes were completely unexpected, they were not blue like those her mother possessed not even grey like those of her deceased father.
No, the little girl's eyes were almost purplish in color.
What had happened to her daughter? To her little girl? How come she had those unusual colors so clear and pure as snow?
It was said, every time an albino girl was born, that the place where she was born would soon perish a disaster.
They were superstitions, only that, Isabelle was sure, after all the little girl she held in her arms was her daughter, her child.
The princess smiled, she would have protected her from everyone, from the world, she would have kept her hidden so that no one could harm her.
At the time, albinos were persecuted, they were victims of prejudice and legends, so much so that some, more superstitious, even insinuated that they were cursed.
She thought of the name to give to her little girl, she thought of a noble, important name, she decided it in a short time.
She would have called her Charlotte, which means "free person" as she would have been in her life.
Charlotte, her little girl.
Isabelle promised herself to protect her and kill every person, that would only try to touch her.