Frederick's heart skipped a beat—was it the fatigue from overwork or the soothing atmosphere. He's unsure. All he can feel is a mix of shame and pity towards himself as he watches the prince's sleeping face. It reminded him of the very first night he held him in his arms, innocent and clueless.
It was still etched in his mind as if it were yesterday, the day of his birth.
"Push harder," the midwife advised Natalia.
He was standing outside with a visible worry on his face while listening to the agonizing, painful squeals made by his wife. As if his terror is not enough, the accompanying flash of lightning and ear-ripping sound of thunder on a dark and stormy night made things worse for his faint heart.
"Ah!" Natalia once again hollered great pain, causing greater distress in everyone's heart. He can still remember hurrying inside after a moment of intense silence, all the negative thoughts flooding in his mind. None can be heard except for the continuous rain violently bombarding the roof.
Hopelessness filled their hearts before a loud cry broke the eerie silence and finally gave everyone relief.
"Your majesty, it's a boy," the midwife shouted gladly while wrapping the boy in a cloth before carefully placing him on the Queen's chest.
Seeing the boy well and healthy sparked a smile on his and Natalia's exhausted faces, together with a look of fulfillment as she held him in her embrace. All is well and accomplished, the people are rejoicing, the king had brightened up, and everything is looking well—not until she slowly closed her eyes and passed out.
They once again fell into horror. It was as if they were stabbed multiple times in the chest, unable to breathe by the sight of the queen losing consciousness.
Amidst of the stalemate, Frederick was quick on his feet and immediately caught his child, "What happened, Do something!" the king worriedly cried, startling the midwife, who almost made her jump. She quickly took all the unnecessary tools away from the queen's bed and checked her vitals.
Dripping with sweat, the midwife assessed the queen thoroughly, checking what had gone wrong. Did she die from the pain? It was a common death on these circumstances but they hoped for the best. The wind howled menacingly outside before she let out a loud gasp. A deafening thunder soon followed as the windows broke free, letting in a cold breeze, "Your majesty," she uttered.
"What now"
"She's—"
"SHE'S WHAT," the King shouted nervously.
"SHE'S FINE!" the midwife exclaimed as loudly as the king. She was agitated and the possibility of her losing her head if the worst came to shove made her tense. Upon finally calming herself down, she immediately repented and asked for forgiveness. "She's perfectly fine. She's just sleeping, mostly because of exhaustion and relief."
The firm grip of death that intricately knotted twice on their necks slowly dissipated. At last, Frederick and the others could finally breathe without any worry, knowing that Natalia is far from danger and is now smiling peacefully in her slumber.
The midwife and the attendants prepared a cradle beside the queen's bed and put the boy inside.
With a sigh, Frederick looked up at the sky. The blissful moon was weirdly radiating a different hue but he did not give much thought to it and later closed the window to keep the cold breeze out of the room. He sat down next to the crib. His eyes fixated on his wife and his son, both sleeping peacefully through the night. He spent the next 5 minutes just staring at them with a genuine, wide smile. He'll never forget this kind of happiness. Never in his life has he been this thankful; his gratitude to the Gods for this miracle greatly surpasses his achievement as king.
He can only imagine what the future holds for his family, as he too has slowly succumbed to exhaustion. Not a moment later, he was snoring. His arms to the side of the crib supported his head, guarding his newly born son. The three were dead to the world until the sun rises tomorrow.
The sun is shining through the window, giving emphasis to the newborn boy, her first child. With her excitement being cut off yesterday, she could not help but carry her baby in her arms to finally adore him to her heart's content. Fulfillment is painted on her face as she stood next to the window, singing a lullaby.
"My queen," Frederick woke up to a gentle hum of Natalia's song. "Are you feeling well? I was really worried. My heart skipped a beat; I thought I'd lose you," he added as he accompanied Natalia beside the window, admiring the sparkling leaves and blades of grass as they bask in the sun.
"What should we name him?" Natalia asked.
"I have no idea in mind; we can name him Frederick II if you want, or we can choose from the names of his grandfather's and great-grandfathers," Frederick advised.
"Anything but that. I'm thinking we should give him a different name. A name not to be compared to anyone, especially to his lineage of ancestors."
"But Emmanuel the eight still suits," he replied sarcastically before laughing at his own, not-so-funny joke. He was so rowdy that the boy was forced into the living world.
"Shush—you're being too loud, and can't you see, he dislikes it. After all, even your mother refused for you to be named by such. Just look at his kind face and chubby cheeks; why would you name him with such an old name," she whispered while trying to put the boy back to sleep. "I'm thinking that we should name him after you."
"Haven't I suggested that already? I thought he should have an incomparable name."
"Well, now that you reminded me, I don't want to anymore," she sighed. "I don't want him to inherit your name. It would be cruel for him; it's like I'll be limiting him to follow your footsteps and the people would never stop comparing him to you."
Their conversation went on. Natalia is thinking of a meaningful name to give her son, while Frederick on the other hand, has the same intent but is more distracted with his jokes about Emmanuel or Rodolfo. For some reason, it only makes the boy cry louder.
Natalia could only laugh as she tried to calm down both her son and husband. She can't help but be thankful for marrying such a wonderful man. Her eyes were fixated on him, his bright smile shining brightly as he tended to their boy. "Frederick—" amidst of the heartwarming scene, she finally sorted her thoughts, "Nicolas," she let out. "Nicolas, Nicolas which means the victory of the people."
As she repeated the name, the father and son finally stopped. "Now that you think of it, my name literally means 'ruler', and Nicolas is just the right name for my son," the king approved and smiled.
"You like it, don't you?" the queen happily whispered to the prince. "Whose our cute Nicolas, who is it?" he chuckled. "That's right, you are," Natalia can't help but adore her child, brushing her cheeks to his little chubby boy.
"Well then, from this day forward, you shall be named Nicolas Gregoria. Our child, welcome to this world," Frederick shouted as he embraced both of them, and with the king's declaration, Nicolas is now fast asleep, not even bothered about his father's loud celebration. Just sleeping peacefully in his parent's caring embrace.
That similar smile he's brandishing slowly turned dull and dead as he finally snapped back to reality. Shrouded in that memory is another night of rain—the night he felt scared for his life, more than when he fought in the war a few years ago. It was this same boy who made him feel this way and left a mark on his arm that's hard to remove.
"I will never forget those glowing blue eyes filled with rage and vengeance," he uttered once again, feeling shame to himself. "What am I talking about, He is my son— but at that moment— he's not; I don't understand anymore." A shear headache haunted him as he replayed his most treasured and horrible memory of his son, two sides that seem like two different people.
He desperately wanted to console him and hug him, but a pinch in his heart holds him at arm's length. Amidst of his frustration for those burning blue eyes, he remembered another peculiar event the night of his birth.
"That blue glow—" he gazed at Nicolas as he reminisced closing the window that night and looked up. He thought it was a result of the storm back then and shrugged it off, but now, "There must be some kind of connection to it."