Adeline's POV
After giving birth and seeing our baby in Edith's arms, I had passed out from the pain, exhaustion, and blood loss. Our child was only supposed to be a couple months, but when he was born it was like he was full term; he just wasn't breathing. Our son looked just like Oliver, his loving father; The spitting image of him as if I had no part in it.
It wasn't until the next morning when I finally awoke to Edith's voice berating me while she sat at the end of my bed.
Edith had opened my window to let some sunlight in, most likely in hopes I would awaken quicker. "What have you done?" She began as she saw my eyes flutter open; Edith couldn't believe what just happened. "A baby? A ROYAL baby?" I didn't want to talk; not now, and certainly not ever, but I knew it just wasn't in my cards. "It definitely explains your recent behavior; but Adeline!?"
First Oliver leaving, and now my child? My son? OUR son? It was like our baby was simply rejected by my body all of a sudden, and I felt hollow. And on top of everything, not a drop of true sympathy from anyone.
I rolled over so she had a harder time seeing my face, tucking myself in even more as I looked out the window of my room. The sky, like yesterday, was clear. It was rare for us to go so long without water, but perhaps the world was warning me of something?
My heart spoke for me instead. "I love him, Edith," I muttered softly.
"I understand that," she placed a hand onto my leg, giving it a squeeze through the blanket. "But loving him means your death, and no one wants you to die." I sat up, letting the blanket fall to my waistline as I faced her; no sign of happiness upon my face. I was miserable.
"There's nothing for me anymore," I stated plainly. "My son is dead, my lover is the prince whom I can't have, and the man I must marry is someone I barely know and hasn't been back since last night, I assume?" I wanted so bad to just hate him; I was hoping my hate would push him away and he would leave me alone already. Though I knew it was but a dream.
Edith shook her head, a small smile of hope forming, "actually, when he realized what had happened, he left for a while, but came back with a small blanket. His mother loves to make them by hand, and believe it or not, she had only 1 red and black one. Perfect for the Prince's son, right?"
The woman with the blankets? I shot out of bed, tossing my blanket off of me and accidentally smacking her with the softness. I frantically began searching for my apron that I had on that day.
It couldn't be a coincidence. Everything that happened was beyond a normal experience.
Edith remained on my bed, overcome with confusion as I went through a pile of them. Luckily for me the one Gregory had destroyed wasn't the one.
Then I found it; a white apron with a small hard lump in its pocket. I quickly pulled the small, empty vial out, before rushing back to Edith and shoving it at her. "This is what I drank almost a week ago."
She took it from me, giving it a quick look over like she's seen it before. "There's nothing wrong with this, Adeline."
I was confused. I drink this and all of a sudden I give birth to a full term still born? "No way there's nothing wrong," I snatched it back.
"My mother drank that exact thing when she was pregnant with my little sister. She was fine. Maybe you were just further along than you thought?" She grabbed my hand, finally showing a bit of sympathy as I sat back down next to her. "Embrace this new chance at life, please," she nearly begged. "Sir Gregory seems to be a nice man. You're one of the few that has attracted not one, but 2 men of nobility. Take the opportunity while you can. Live a more privileged life like you deserve."
"Where is he now?" I asked, ignoring her suggestions. I didn't care about the amount; I only wanted the 1.
"After he brought the blanket and explained as much as he could, he told us he had an important business matter to attend to and hasn't been back since."
Important business? Though there was no more time to waste on men like him. "Where's my son now?" I redirected.
Edith didn't answer, instead, she took my hand, pulling it gently as she stood before leading me out of the room and into the living area where my mother and father were. They had been sitting upon the wooden frame, straw filled red cushioned couch, resting, appearing as if they were simply watching my son like they were babysitting their grandchild; the flickers of the fireplace highlighting their faces. My mother looked like a corpse as her blood shot eyes stared blankly at the small coffin.
The table had been removed, probably destroyed, most likely being beyond anything that could be cleaned.
My wonderful father had apparently worked through the night to make a small wooden casket. In front of the fireplace sat a small, child's casket, open.
I quickly ran to him, dropping to the floor to see him. My son was resting in it like a bassinet with nothing but a small blanket to cover him.
Tears began to flow down my face, and as I went to pick him up and cradle him, there was a sudden knock at the door. Gregory? I wondered.
My father, the only one other than Edith who was a bit more levelheaded, rose from the couch to go check the front door.
"If it's Gregory," I began, my father pausing as his hand floated above the door knob, "don't let him in." He shook his head slightly, before opening it.
They had no idea the full extent of his proposal, but I didn't want to worry them anymore. We still had my son to bury.
When the door swung open, my father didn't even greet whoever it was. He was speechless.
Then I saw him bow.