15th October 1519

Blair sat up suddenly, clutching her swollen belly and gritting her teeth. She squeezed her eyes closed, fighting the urge to whimper at the contraction, and sighed when the pain abated. Carefully extracting herself from Chuck's arms, Blair twisted around to place her feet on the floor.

The three dogs in their baskets by the bed – her spaniels and Chuck's half-grown greyhound – began to growl softly, as if sensing that something was amiss with their beloved mistress. The three canines had become exceedingly protective of her as of late, never leaving her side, even whining at the door when she used the closet. "It's alright," she murmured soothingly, reaching down to scratch their ears, "Hush."

She shuffled to the edge of the bed, gripping the bedpost to aid her movement. Blair took a deep breath and pulled herself up; truly, it was a gargantuan effort to heave herself to her feet. She faltered, her knees buckling under the sudden weight of her belly, and took a moment to collect herself. Blair shook her head in disgust at her weakness and forced herself to cross the room, settling on the cushioned window seat and resting her head against the cool glass. She pressed her fist into her mouth when a second squeezing pain wracked through her body, desperately trying to remain as quiet as possible.

She'd become accustomed to false labour pains, often feeling them during the evening, and her midwife had assured her that this was completely normal, especially towards the end of pregnancy, and yet... There was something different about these pains, and it was a foreboding difference, a difference that both frightened and excited her. Her abdomen clenched again and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

Her eyes filled with tears and she leaned back against the window, taking slow calming breaths as the contraction began to ease off.

There was a sudden wetness between her thighs and Blair hiked up her sleep shift, gingerly withdrawing her hand and marvelling at the clear fluid on her fingers. She shook her head, valiantly trying to persuade herself that she was mistaken, that she wasn't in labour, it was too soon, over a month too soon, and that it was just an episode of incontinence...

As if to prove her wrong, her body contorted again, a low hiss escaping through her teeth.

"No," she whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek, "It's too soon. Not yet. Please."

Blair gazed over at her husband; Bart had abdicated his throne a little over a month ago, and had retired from court to the privacy of his own apartments. She and Chuck had been crowned a week before she began her lying-in, and she was now officially the Queen of England.

"Your Majesty," she greeted, nodding respectfully to husband as her ladies-in-waiting curtseyed lowly, "Forgive us for not bowing to you, Sire. We are bedbound with your royal issue, as you know, and so are unable to show you the respect that you surely deserve. We are thrilled and utterly humbled that you have come to visit us in our lying in, such is your absolute grandeur and resplendence." A smirk quirked at the corner of her lips as Chuck gaped at her. She often did this – mocked him by being absolutely respectful – and it amused him to no end. "Surely you are much too important to be sitting inside on such a lovely autumn day?"

Chuck huffed, shaking his head and sitting down on the bed beside her. She lifted his arm and snuggled into his side, toying with the heavy gold chain of office that hung around his shoulders. "Stop it, Blair."

Blair smiled, hiding her face in his doublet. "Forgive us, your Majesty, we did not mean to offend. We pray that you do not punish us for our impudence."

"How are you, today?" he asked, pulling her more tightly against him with one hand and resting the other on her distended stomach.

"Bored."

"It isn't at all obvious," Chuck teased, kissing her forehead, "How are you keeping yourself amused, then, my beautiful Queen?"

Though she was used to his flattery, Blair could not withhold her blush. "By thinking of ways to torment you, my lord and husband," she replied coyly, trailing her fingers down her chest, "And imagining how things will be when I am no longer confined to my bed..."

Chuck groaned. "Blair, don't say things like that. Not when I can't touch you."

Blair bit her lip, glancing around to see what her ladies-in-waiting were doing. "Jennifer?" the blonde appeared in the entrance to her bedchamber. "Close the curtains around the bed. I want to sleep awhile."

"Yes, your Majesty." Jennifer dutifully did as she was asked, curtseying lowly before the King and Queen, and hiding her smile at Chuck's chagrined expression.

When they were truly isolated from the rest of the world, Blair licked her lips. "You may not be able to touch me, Charles, but I can still touch you."

Blair shuffled down the bed, settling on her knees against Chuck's lower legs. Reaching over for a small cushion, Blair tucked it between her belly and the bed. She raised an eyebrow, biting her lip as she tugged down his hose, eying his erection hungrily. Chuck opened his mouth to protest, but Blair shook her head. "They'll hear you," she whispered, gesturing to closed curtains.

Trailing kisses up his thighs, Blair flicked her tongue against the head of his length, smirking against him when she felt his hands encase her shoulders. She took him slowly into her mouth, her small hand encasing what her lips could not. Her suction was slow and languid, and when Chuck realised that she was purposefully torturing him he threaded his fingers into her loose curls and thrust up against her, relishing in her small moan of pleasure.

Her eyes flashed up at him, and Chuck arched his back, emptying himself into her mouth, groaning appreciatively when she swallowed his essence. He was about to apologise for his surprising lack of stamina, when she sat up and pressed her hands to her belly.

"Feel," she urged him, beaming and reaching for his hand, "They are moving."

He touched his palm gently against her stomach, his eyes shining when he felt a dull thud against his hand.

"I have never known them to be so lively," Blair mused, crawling back up the bed and curling herself around him. She eyed him with amusement. "I have also never known you so quick to spend yourself, my lord."

"I haven't been able to make love to you for almost two weeks," Chuck muttered, avoiding her gaze, "And – in spite of constant encouragement – I am absolutely unwilling to take a mistress."

Blair stiffened. "Who is offering you such encouragement?"

"Lord Baizen, predictably. I am certain that he is doing it for his own gain rather than my enjoyment."

Blair smacked his chest. "Don't you dare, Charles. I am well aware that it is a King's prerogative to take a mistress, especially since I am in no fit state to fulfil your needs... But..."

"I won't," he reassured her softly, raising her chin so that he could look into her eyes. "I would never. Marriage vows matter to me, Blair."

"Oh, is that the only reason?"

He sighed. "I love you and I would never stray from you. Please, take my word for it."

"What about your 'needs'?" She asked, rolling her eyes and pouting.

"You are more than enough to satisfy me."

Blair eyed him curiously. "You really mean it, don't you? My, you have changed."

"For the better, I would hope," Chuck murmured, his eyes closing.

"I thought you had come to visit me," Blair pointed out, frowning and snapping her fingers before his eyes. "Wake up. Entertain me. And, besides; aren't you supposed to be running the country?"

Chuck opened one eye. "I've left that to Norfolk for today. I'm in no mood to listen to the Privy Council squabbling over taxes."

"Ah, so you have sought out my company to squabble with me, instead? I am the Queen, after all."

"My beautiful Queen," Chuck agreed, "How magnificent you are."

With this thought, Blair gave a resolute, answering nod. She was a Queen of England, and if she was in labour, she would give birth like a Queen, with dignity and control. She would not allow unnecessary fuss or noise, and she would most certainly insist on being obeyed.

Hauling herself to her feet, Blair stood up again, leaving her sleeping husband alone in their bed and entering her ante chamber, closing the curtain that divided the two rooms. She sat down heavily in an armchair, using her foot to nudge Jennifer awake.

Jennifer had taken to sleeping in a pallet before the fire, eager to be helpful should her heavily pregnant Queen need assistance during the night. The blonde was awake in an instant, half feeling ashamed that Blair had seen her in her sleep shift with her hair in disarray.

Blair smiled, seeing the girl's inner conflict and shaking her head dismissively. "I'm in labour," she whispered, "Go and fetch Lily and the midwife. Not a word to anyone else."

"Shouldn't I dress, your Majesty?" Jennifer replied quietly, biting her lip.

"There's no time. The pains are coming too fast and too close together. I want this done quietly and calmly, no fuss. Make sure you tell them that."

Jennifer nodded, scrambling to her feet. "Yes, your Majesty."

"Stop that," Blair complained irritably, "I don't feel very much like a Queen at the moment."

...

It didn't take long for Jennifer to fulfil her task, but by the time she had returned with Lily and the midwife in tow, Blair was writhing in pain, clenching her jaw so as not to make any noise. She scowled at the tray of food that Ms Goodwyn had brought with her.

"I'm not hungry," she muttered, shaking her head. "I just want this to be..." her words were stolen from her lips and she let out a wail of pain, leaning back as the midwife rushed to stand behind her, clenching her hands over Ms Goodwyn's balled fists. "...Over."

"Breathe, my lady," Ms Goodwyn urged, holding Blair upright the contraction continued. "We must wake the King..."

"No," Blair hissed vehemently, "Not yet. I cannot handle him fussing around me. This is stressful enough without him getting in the way."

Unbeknownst to a blissfully oblivious Chuck – who was indeed still sleeping in the bedchamber not twenty feet away – Blair's labour was progressing quickly. Her ante-chamber was a flurry of activity; there was Ms Goodwyn, Lily and Jennifer actively taking part in the labour, trying to keep Blair calm, and then three of Blair's other ladies-in-waiting hovered uselessly in the background.

Blair had demanded absolute calm and quiet, determined to get through her labour as peacefully as she was able. She was prepared for the worst – she'd already signed a legal document stating that Ms Goodwyn was obliged to think of the wellbeing of her children ahead of her own – and did not need unnecessary fussing to aggravate her further. The midwife wholeheartedly agreed with her sentiments, encouraging Blair to be empowered by her labour, to be in control of the situation, and Blair was thankful, not for the first time, for Ms Goodwyn's attitude. Blair had only wanted Jennifer, Lily and the midwife present, but Ms Goodwyn had insisted upon the presence of the other three ladies in case of an emergency.

Blair sat down again in the armchair, not protesting when the midwife rolled up her sleep shift and parted her legs. Ms Goodwyn rinsed her hands in a bowl of warm water and lye soap, clucking her tongue sympathetically as she examined Blair.

"Five fingers, my lady. It will not be a long birth, or a difficult one," the midwife stated, sitting back on her heels and recovering Blair's legs.

"I am never doing this again," Blair announced imperiously, her usually perfect English heavily accented with her native French, "Non. Jamais plus. In fact, I am not even doing it now. They will just have to stay in there."

Lily smiled and moved across the room, pulling Blair's hair out of her face and plaiting it down her back. "You won't remember the pain when they are in your arms."

Blair scoffed. "I doubt that."

Taking advantage of the lull between contractions, Ms Goodwyn gestured towards the table. "Your Majesty should eat something," she instructed, "You need your strength."

Blair glared at her. She'd already vomited four times since her pains had began – something that was common during labour, or so she had been told – and was loathe to do anything to incur another episode. Ms Goodwyn calmly met her gaze, nodding again towards the food to show that she was not at all fazed by Blair's temper. Grudgingly, Blair picked up a piece of bread and rolled her eyes, chewing and swallowing until the small roll was gone.

The next contraction, however, caused Blair to fall forwards out of the chair. She reached up and stuffed an apple into her mouth to muffle her moan of pain.

Her ladies leapt into action, manoeuvring her to the rug before the fire and murmuring their encouragements, but Blair shook her head again. "All of you... Stop! Just... let me... get... on... with... it." She breathed deeply, the pain abating, and nodded to the midwife. "I want to do it here." She gestured to the rug. "Put down the linens."

Ms Goodwyn hesitated. "My lady..."

"Am I not the Queen of England?" Blair hissed impetuously, "Am I not a Princess of France?" the midwife nodded, an uneasy expression on her aged face. "Then do as I command! I will give birth where I feel comfortable and I. Choose. Here."

Sighing in defeat, Ms Goodwyn turned to the ladies in waiting. "You need to make some space. Move the tables and the chairs, set down the linens, ready the hot water, stoke the fire."

"And do not wake the King," Blair added with a scowl, pointing a finger at the ladies. "Be quiet."

She wasn't sure what had made her decide on the rug in the fire; her bedchamber was prepared for the labour, and she really wanted to be agreeable, but she felt settled on the rug, felt more comfortable on her hands and knees with the floor beneath her.

Lily helped her to her feet and she sat down again in the arm chair, sighing and closing her eyes. Her arms encircled her belly as another contraction washed through her, letting out a silent scream, her face twisting into a grimace. "How did you do this so many times?" Blair asked her mother-in-law, trying and failing to focus her eyes through the pain.

Lily rubbed her back and smiled. "It's worth it."

"So you keep saying," Blair replied scathingly, gritting her teeth as she was hauled to her feet and deposited on the now-linen-covered rug. Ms Goodwyn knelt down behind her, murmuring an apology as she inspected Blair's nether regions.

"You are almost there, your Majesty," she said with a satisfied nod, "If I had not seen it happening, I would not have believed it to be true; it is rare for a first birthing to progress this quickly, especially with more than one babe in the womb."

...

"The head is crowning," Lily whispered supportively, "You're doing so well!" In truth, Lily was a little in-awe of the younger girl. She had managed to labour in relative quiet with minimal fuss, which was impressive considering how dangerous the situation was.

"Should I wake the King?" Jennifer asked, directing the question at the midwife rather than Blair.

"I'm still here," Blair spat out through contractions, "And I do not want my husband to see me like this. I will only end up throwing him into the fire if he tries to comfort me. This is his fault."

Ms Goodwyn remained impassive, ignoring Blair's dramatics. "Best to leave his Majesty abed," she advised, "This is women's business, and no doubt he would only receive the brunt of her Majesty's temper if he were present."

Lily shook her head at her step-son. "I just don't know how he's managed to sleep through all of this," she marvelled, "His wife is in the process of giving birth and he has no clue."

"Leave him be," Blair hissed, angry at everyone and everything. "Oh, God... this hurts!"

"Push, my lady," Ms Goodwyn encouraged, "One more, there's a good girl."

Blair stuffed her face into a cushion, using everything she had to push the child out of her body. She felt the stretch and the pull and the gush and then... nothing.

With her nether regions throbbing, her womb still contracting, Blair swivelled her head round, tears welling in her eyes. "Why isn't it crying? What's wrong? What is it?"

There was the sound of a slap and Blair started to sob in relief as the baby screamed in protest.

"A girl, your Majesty," Jennifer said, now crying herself, "A healthy girl."

"Try to catch your breath, my lady," the midwife advised, still uneasy with the knowledge that complications with multiple children usually occurred around the time between births, "The next baby should be along soon."

Blair was part-way between laughing and crying, craning her neck when the baby was taken to be bathed and swaddled. "Where are you taking her? Bring her back," she demanded, wailing into the pillow again when another contraction claimed her body.

"Push, my lady," Ms Goodwyn encouraged, opening Blair's legs a little wider. "Come on, Blair, you've already done it once, you can do it again! You're a Queen!"

"I can't," Blair cried, too exhausted now to care about whether Chuck woke or not, "It hurts!" She felt a ghostly touch on her hand and looked to the side, sobbing openly when her mother's face swam before her vision. A part of her mind knew that she was delirious, knew that she was hallucinating, and yet she was comforted, reassured.

With a renewed sense of determination, Blair bore down with the next contraction, pushing as hard as she possibly could. This child came more quickly than the first, and Blair collapsed onto the bloodied linens when she felt it leave her body. She was relieved when the baby immediately started to cry, and resumed her helpless weeping.

"A boy!" Ms Goodwyn announced, passing the child to Lily.

Blair smiled tiredly, wincing at the ache in her lower body. "I did it. Jumeaux.Jumeauxen bonne santé."

"Yes," Ms Goodwyn agreed, not understanding the actual French words but successfully guessing the meaning behind it, covering Blair's bare legs and sitting back to await the arrival of the two afterbirths. Whilst the experienced midwife had successfully birthed twins in the past, it was the afterbirth that usually caused problems, especially when the twins were of different genders.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, weary from the night's events. With a wry smile, Ms Goodwyn thought of the palace waking up to the knowledge of a new prince and princess, born in the dark, in secret, whilst the rest of the court slept on.

Blair groaned again in pain, and Ms Goodwyn stiffened. "What is it, my lady?"

"Something is happening," Blair moaned, "I can feel it." She had rolled over onto her back, her legs falling open, and Ms Goodwyn lifted the sheet that she had covered her with.

"My God," the midwife gasped, "There's another."

"A third?!" Blair cried, genuinely frightened. It was the first time all night that she had felt fear, and it was that thought that sobered her. Her previous state of calm had fully evaporated, and she was half-annoyed that she had completely lost control of the situation. "Non, merci. J'aidéjà deux. Deux, c'estassez.''

Ms Goodwyn leaned forwards, her hands ready to catch the child. It seemed that the passage of the other two had paved the way for this baby, and Blair wouldn't have to do much to give birth again.

"Just a gentle push," the midwife murmured, "This little one is ready to arrive."

"Non, jene peux pas," Blair moaned, "Non."

"Yes, you can," a rasping voice to her left encouraged softly, and Blair squeezed her eyes closed as Chuck grasped her hand.

"Your Majesty, it is not proper..." Ms Goodwyn began, but she trailed off when she saw Chuck's expression.

"I can assure you, Ms Goodwyn, that it is nothing that I haven't seen before," he stated, raising an eyebrow. "Blair is my wife, and I have no intention of letting her do this alone."

"J'ai fait cavalier seul pendant les quatre dernières heures," Blair muttered darkly, but she smiled tiredly when Chuck moved to sit behind her, opening his own legs and settling her between them, so that she was supported by his body.

"Perhaps you should cease your chastising of me in French and push, Blair."

When the next contraction arrived, Blair gave her all, pointedly digging her nails into Chuck's hands, continuing her sobbing when the third baby was successfully expelled from her womb.

"A boy," Chuck marvelled, "A son."

"Notre deuxième fils," Blair corrected, panting and grimacing as the afterbirth finally arrived.

"Two sons?"

Blair shook her head. "Deuxfils et une fille, en fait. Triplés."

Chuck gaped at her, smoothing her hair away from her forehead and averting his gaze as Ms Goodwyn started to clean up the mess between Blair's legs.

Having apparently gathered her thoughts enough to focus on speaking English again, Blair reached up to kiss Chuck's cheek. "Two boys and a girl," she repeated, "Triplets."

...

"It was too early," she whispered, her bottom lip trembling, "Much too early."

"Aye, they have come before their time," the midwife agreed, "But it doesn't seem to have done them any harm. They have taken their first feeds from their wet nurses well enough."

Blair winced as Chuck sat down on the bed beside her, leaning into him when he put his arm around her shoulder. "It still concerns me."

"Blair..."

"No, Chuck. You don't understand how much I have been worrying about this. They aren't even two hours old and already I love them unbearably. I won't be able to handle it if they... if they take ill... or.."

"They won't," he insisted, leaning back against the pillows. "Can you imagine how people will react when they discover that their Queen has given birth whilst they were sleeping?"

"Well, how did you react when you woke up and discovered me in the ante-chamber, part way through labour?" Blair replied teasingly, "I am sure it is not how you imagined your children being born."

"I cannot fathom how you managed to give birth twice before waking me," he agreed, tucking a dark curl behind her ear, "You are truly an incredible creature."

She pulled a face. "I did not want to alarm you. I saw how you reacted when Ms Goodwyn informed us of the dangers of multiple births... I didn't want to put you in a difficult position should the worst have happened." She lifted a finger and covered his lips. "Enough of this. I want to see my children."

Chuck gestured for the three babies to be brought over, his own eyes filling with tears when the two boys were placed in Blair's arms and the girl in his. "They are beautiful."

"They're so small," his wife breathed, "It is astounding."

"Small, and perfect," Chuck murmured, trailing a finger gently down his daughter's cheek. "She is the oldest, yes?"

Blair nodded, wincing again at the memory. "And the largest of the three, if memory serves."

From the corner of the room, a watchful Ms Goodwyn laughed. "Your Majesty is correct – your daughter was indeed the biggest child."

Blair glanced down at her sons, blinking hastily to contain her tears. "They are very alike," she commented, her eyes flickering over to the midwife for confirmation.

"It would seem that your two boys are identical twins, your Majesty," Ms Goodwyn confirmed.

"She is the image of you," Chuck whispered, nudging Blair and nodding at their daughter.

Blair shook her head. "She has your eyes. I caught a glimpse of them before they bathed her." As if on cue, the baby girl opened her eyes, peeking up at Chuck.

Chuck was surprised by how affected he was; he had known that he would love his children, but he did not expect to feel such devotion, such dedication, not so early in their lives at least. He could already see Blair in his daughter's features, in her porcelain skin, red lips, thick eyelashes, and the hint of high cheekbones beneath her adorable chubby cheeks.

He swallowed thickly, and Blair smiled softly at his expression. "I love them so much already. It is terrifying."

"Forgive the interruption, your Majesties," Ms Goodwyn said, "But do the little ones have names yet?"

Blair sighed, shifting the boys in her arms and gazing down at them adoringly. "Not yet."

...

ANY IDEAS FOR NAMES?

AN – I have no excuses for how long it took me to update. It was just one thing after another for a time, and then when I actually felt able to write again I just couldn't. I'd lost the 'essence' of this story, and I didn't want to start writing again if I couldn't do it justice. Also, I'm really proud of this chapter. I'm training to be a midwife and I find it fascinating how practices have changed over the years.

Non – No

Jamais plus – Never again

Non, merci – No, thank you

Jumeaux – Twins

Jumeauxen bonne santé– Healthy twins

Non, jene peux pas– No, I can't

J'aidéjà deux. Deux, c'estassez. – I have two already. Two is enough.

Deuxfils et une fille, en fait.- Two sons and a daughter, actually.

J'ai fait cavalier seul pendant les quatre dernières heures - I have been doing it alone for the past four hours.