Crowning the Pain

The Ivy Grows and the White Rose Bud Blooms.

December 12th 1509 Galloway, Scotland

The silence of victory settled over the once vicious battlefield, as Nyx blanketed the entire field in darkness. The battle of Galloway against the rebelling Scottish had been a fierce three day endeavor but it had finally ended with minimal blood shed on either side. The English King, Anthony II, was inside his tent with his generals as well as the leaders of the rebellion. As the King hashed out terms of surrender, his young son Prince Nicholas sat inside his own tent with his companions, drinking wine to excess late into the evening. Prince Nicholas tossed the empty wine skin to the floor, as his friend Sir Will Brandon opened another wineskin for himself. Across from them, the young heir to the Earldom of Northumberland Thomas Percy sat rubbing his sore shoulder. "God above" He exclaimed as he fell backwards onto the ground stretching the stiffness from his muscles, "I feel terrible for the poor woman bound to my soul, she must ache constantly."

Will laughed at him, "Hopefully none of us meet our soulmates, they'd slap us for the pain we caused them." He spoke jovially as he tossed the half empty skin to Nick who drank it greedily. Outside the tent the horses whined, spooked by something unseen in the torch light, and the three teens stood to investigate. Nicholas took two steps out of the tent before his entire body was engulfed in searing agony. He gritted his teeth but the pain grew too much and the scream ripped out of his lungs alerting every single creature nearby something was horrifically wrong. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground curled up, a burning pain in his abdomen and back.

The screams from his heir had King Anthony barging out of his tent, limping on an old battle wounded leg to his son. Following the King was his surgeon and doctor, both hurrying to examine the 18 year old prince. "Nick what is it boy! What has happened?!" the King demanded, turning to the two boys who stood with their mouths open watching their friend. "We don't know majesty. His highness was fine, he just fell over before anyone knew it." Tom Percy spoke clumsily, before Will added on. "The Prince gave no notion he was feeling unwell, we were just laughing and drinking a moment ago. We came to see what spooked the horses and he toppled over screaming as you see."

The King nodded at their explanation, turning his attention back to the two physicians. "Well doctors, what say you of the Prince?" the King asked as he leaned down, taking his son's hand as Nick groaned and whined about death coming for him. "Majesty," Dr. Davis the surgeon spoke first, "We don't believe the Prince is in any danger. We don't think there's anything medically wrong with him actually." Dr. Wendy, the King's own doctor, spoke up as he removed his hand from the prince's forehead. "His highness is a normal color and temperature, and he has no physical injuries or organ distress as we can feel, so we think his pain is caused by soul binding. His soulmate is giving birth and he feels her pain. We should take his highness to his bed immediately and hope the woman has a quick birth with no issues. He should be fine by tomorrow."

The King let out a barking laugh, squeezing his heir's hand. "Hear that boy! You're not dying, you soulmate is just giving you some hell! Ha! Will, Tom, please help the doctors get his highness to bed. I must get back to the negotiations, but you two keep an eye on him. Stay with him tonight, he'll need the company. " the King stood, letting a chuckle out, "Trust me, we men may lay our lives down on the battlefield but women lay theirs on the childbed. I suffered the same pain twice when my Arabella gave birth. It's a hellish pain no wound or injury comes close to it. He should be fine, but exhausted by dawn. Just stay with him lads." With that King Anthony returned to his tent, a smile on his face as his son's companions carried the Prince to his bed.

December 13th 1509 Morston Castle, Bryon, England

The young widowed Countess of Bryon and Hertford squeezed her mother's hand tightly as another contraction ripped through her body, her voice a hoarse whimper from screaming for hours. The midwife, Mrs. Osburn, spoke to her sternly giving directions. "My lady, you have to get ready to push! On my mark, okay? Three, two, one, NOW!" The 19 year old pushed with all her might, praying to God to ease her pain and finish the birth quickly. Her prayers were answered when she felt something slip out of her body, but the relief never came. It was deadly silent, no cry from an infant. 'A stillborn' Bridget thought as grief began to wash over her. The midwife swaddled the dead child, talking to her assistant, Bridget heard the word daughter and the sadness overwhelmed her but not for long as Bridget cried out again. "Something is wrong!" She choked out, tears streaming down her sweaty face.

The midwife returned to find a foot sticking out, and she went pale. "Oh God's teeth there is a second babe and it's turned wrong! Sarah," Mrs. Osburn hollered for her assistant as she rubbed flaxseed oil all over her arms and hands before reaching her hands inside Bridget, "fetch Dr. Lee immediately. Her ladyship is breached!" Sarah turned tail quickly to fetch the doctor and alerted the staff they would need more hot water and cloth. "Mrs. Osburn, am I to die?" Bridget wept as her mother held her. "No my lady, not if I can help it. Just gotta get this little one turned right, please bear with me." Slowly and with expert care, Winifred Osburn began to turn the infant from inside the mother. Bridget cried out from the discomfort, clutching her mother's hand as tight as she could. Cecily Wotton held her daughter close, trying to stay calm for her daughter's sake continued praying to God and St. Margaret to protect her eldest child. "I almost have it my lady, just a few moments more." Mrs. Osburn spoke softly as she continued to maneuver the child to the correct position. Dr. Lee came rushing in, setting to work without being told, he began to sop up the blood as Mrs. Osburn worked, as well as ask Lady Wotton to dab a wet cold cloth on her daughter.

"My lady, I ask that you gather up what strength you have and push now!" Mrs. Osburn said as she waited for the child to enter correctly into the world. Bridget took a gulp of air and pushed as hard as she possibly could, her mind foggy from the pain. Through the haze she felt the tiny kicks on her tights as the child screamed it's displeasure for the world to hear. "It's a healthy boy, my lady. He was just a little turned around is all, but he made his way here finally." Mrs. Osburn said as she cleaned and swaddled the boy. Bridget fell back into her pillows, exhaustion crashing over her like a wave. "Mother," she croaked out, "is he healthy, truly? I wish to name him Henry if he is. And the other babe, is it stillborn?" Cecily turned to her daughter, moving the sweaty strands of hair off her face. "Yes,  little Henry is healthy and safe. Sadly the other babe was a stillborn girl, I'll handle her arrangements. You rest my dear heart." Cecily placed a kiss on her daughter's sweaty brow as Bridget was enveloped by Morpheus' embrace into a deep slumber.