Title: Contemplations On: An Absent Husband, boredom and A Baby on the Way

Constance stood placing her embroidery down in the chair she had vacated. She stretched attempting to relieve some of the pressure on her back.

Looking over her shoulder, she glared at the embroidery work she had completed in the last hour. Only a few stitches had been made. She would give anything to be sparing with swords against Athos.

By midday she had mended all the clothes she had been putting off and most of those were Athos' shirts. How he had all these ripped shirts left behind she couldn't fathom. What was he wearing now, she wondered? She shook her head, no sense going down that road; she would only worry herself more.

It had been a month since she had heard from Athos, the longest period she had not heard from him since he left for the war. She knew she had to stop this line of thought, or she would go mad.

She grimaced as the ache in her back persisted. One of her hands rested on her rounded stomach. She was expecting this baby to come any day now. She was living in the palace; the queen had insisted two months earlier that she stay at least until the baby was born.

She still hadn't narrowed down the names she had listed for consideration. Athos had been no help. She wrote to him asking for his thoughts on a name and he wrote back telling her he was fine with whatever she picked.

Constance sighed. It had been nearly six months since Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan had left for war against Spain. She assured Athos before he left she would be fine. And she was certain she would be fine. Oh she knew she would miss Athos as well as the others, but she was certain she could cope with his absence. But a couple of months in and the sudden quickening of the baby took her by surprise and left her panicking.

It had taken a good long talk with the queen to calm Constance's nerves. It was such a mortifying moment expecting the queen to calm her down.

A sudden sharp pain shot through her back just as there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," Constance said.

"Constance."

Constance could hear the queen's voice, but she was suddenly very distracted by another sharp pain.

"Your Majesty, forgive me, but I think I need the doctor."

Anne gasped. "Of course Constance."

There was a long moment of silence while Constance focused on her breathing. She hadn't noticed the queen had left the room or for how long.

"The doctor is on his way," the queen said. "Constance, you should lie down."

Constance nodded following the queen towards her bed and lay down. She felt a tear slip down the side of her face and in her hair.

One of her hands grabbed a fistful of the bed covers. She felt a cool, soft hand without calluses wrap around her tightly fisted hand.

Constance looked to the side of the bed. The queen sat calmly next to her holding her hand.

Finally the doctor arrived and the next several hours would become a blur of noises and smells and tears.

TM

Constance lay exhausted in bed holding her daughter. The queen sat quietly a couple of feet away.

"Do you have a name for her?" Anne asked.

Constance's smile somehow grew brighter. She turned and looked at the queen. "Olivia," she said.

The End