Chapter 55

8 months, 2 days pregnant

“I wish to see my granddaughter,” Lady Giselle announces after she dabs at her mouth. Breakfast has just been concluded and was currently being taken from the long, dark wooden table.

“Mother, the girl will be due soon. She should remain in solitude,” Lady Greta says stiffly, “Plus, she is under royal guard. Anything you say to her will most likely be reported back to his royal highness.”

“A proper observation,” Lady Giselle notes mildly, staring straight ahead, to the other end of the table.

“It is just an obvious one, mother,” the duchess of the Valentine household comments dryly. Her face was as beautiful as ever, but that only made the redness and puffiness underneath her eyes more prominent.

“Even so,” Lady Giselle says, “It is one worth being voiced.”

Lady Greta preens at this and directs a cold smile to her sister, which goes ignored.

“I have no qualms against it, mother,” Lynette says and messages her aching temples. Her head felt like it had been cracked in two by a sledgehammer. The feeling was similar to having too much to drink the previous night, but it was a small price to pay to have her mother's undivided attention.

“I just ask that you tread carefully,” the duchess continues on and drops her hand when her mother’s pale blue eyes fall to it, “My Livia has been through so much. She is not the same girl that she had once been.”

Lady Greta barely muffles her snort, “Now who is the one stating the obvious?”

“That only gives me more reason to lay eyes on the child,” Lady Giselle says calmly, “It has been so long since I have spent some quality time with my only granddaughter. How old is she now? I am sure she has grown a lot.”

Lady Greta seems to need to physically restrain herself from making another snide comment, Lynette notices with a lower. Her face smooths out a second later and she offers her mother a smile only an adoring mother of their own child could paint.

“My Livia should be seventeen. Her birthday will be upon us in a few more months,” Lynette says proudly.

“Still, rather young to be a mother, isn’t it?” Lady Greta scornfully, “I honestly do not see why we even bothered to come here. With the misfortune that has befallen our family, the girl will end up expiring upon attempting to give birth with that undeveloped body of her. Along with her chil-” Lady Greta bites down onto her own tongue involuntary, and blood quickly floods into her mouth. She gags and gurgles, covering her mouth with her hands as she stares at her mother in fear.

“Have you still not learned your lesson, girl?” Lady Giselle asks serenely, lowering her hand as her magic dissipates.

“I am sure my sister has, mother,” Lynette says, watching as her sisters own single, personal maid rushes to her side and begins to press napkins to her bleeding mouth, pale in the face, “It is just that sometimes, she will need to be reminded of it. As I needed when I had been a child.”

Lady Giselle simply hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. The youngest daughter and mother watch in silence as Lady Greta gets herself cleaned up in the bleeding under control. This time, Lady Giselle does not offer up her magic to heal her daughter.

Once that scene is handled, the conversation continues as if it had never been interrupted in the first place.

“Seventeen years. Has it truly been so long since my first grandchild had been born? I recall the memory of her being so small and swaddled in your arms, daughter. It seems as if it was only yesterday,” Lady Giselle reminisces.

“She had been so small and delicate when she was born,” Lynette says, calling forth the memory her mother spoke of. It had been just days after she had given birth. Her mother had been with her every step of the way. Her husband, on the other hand, had lost interest the moment he had been told of his firstborn gender.

Lynette remembers just how small and pinks her Livia had been. How tiny her finger had been in comparison to her own, and how fussy her little girl was the moment she had been taken out of the womb. The only one who could calm her small whimpering whines had only been Lynette. At that time, the duchess could not put her newborn daughter down for very long. And it wasn’t just because when she did, Livia instantly fell into a crying fit, waving her small little arms around.

To think, that had been seventeen years ago.

“She had been such a pretty doll,” Lady Giselle compliments, “I could tell, from the moment I saw her that Livia would be just as beautiful and striking as her parents, that her future would be bright and worth looking after.”

Lynette's somber mood lifts a bit and she smirks faintly, “As did I mother.”

“Well, recalling upon such memories just makes me wish to see my granddaughter more,” Lady Giselle says. Her attendant instantly takes that as a cue to appear by her side and help her get to her feet.

“You said she was in the east wing, daughter?” Lady Giselle asks, turning her head towards the opening of the wine wood dining room.

“Yes mother,” Lynette says and stands as well, “I can escort you.” She offers.

But her mother declines, “There is no need for that, daughter. You have been forbidden to interact with your own blood by the king himself. It would not do to go against King Grail. Even in your own house.”

“...But mother...” Lynette protest.

“You should do as you are told, sister,” Lady Greta says, having finally found her voice. She looks neither at her mother or sister, seemingly having a strong interest in a small carving of a long past duchess on top of the cold fireplace.

Lynette's eyes cut to her; nasty words ready to fall from her mouth.

“I will see for myself if the situation is completely hopeless,” Lady Giselle says severely and her gentle gaze falls upon her youngest, silencing her.

Lynette's eyes fall away from her mother as her hand curls into a tight fist. So, it seems her mother wasn’t entirely persuaded to her cause, despite talking with her well into the night. She wished strongly to be a part of the upcoming collision between her mother and daughter, but she could not be.

Damn her husband.

How easy was it for him to pull strings even so far away? The moment he got a chance to strip Liliana completely away from her, he took it. He cared nothing of his legitimate daughter. It was only a subsequent consequence that Lynette had limited access to Livia.

Damn him.

“We will talk later, daughters,” Lady Giselle says, calling attention back to herself, “I suggest you both take this time to air out any grievances you have towards one another. I grow tired of sitting in this heavy atmosphere.”

“As you wish mother,” Lady Greta says.

“Of course, mother,” Lynette says.

And they both watch as she leaves before their eyes fall upon the other. They scowl at the same time, in without the presence of their mother, the room fills to the brim with unspoken menace.

“Your grandmother summons you,” Beth says and sets down the breakfast tray. Her eyes fall upon the desk that she was startled to see Livia not occupying and she blinks at the dip pen which stands upright and stabbed a few inches into the now bound book the pregnant heiress had been working on obsessively the past few weeks. The page with a hole in it seemed half-written and messy with black ink drops.

“Um,” she says, dragging her eyes away from the violent scene and it lands on Amaya, who had begun to tidy up the bed their lady had just unoccupied. The maid just shrugs in response.

“It just ended,” Livia says morosely.

“What has?” Beth asks, her concern growing.

“The memories,” Livia hisses, dragging a slim hand through her tangled purple hair, “One moment it was flowing like a flooded river, and the next, it all evaporated with no warning!”

The crease in Beth's brow smooths out, and she couldn’t help but let out a small sigh in relief. Obviously, her lady did not take too kindly to the fact, but Beth did. This means she no longer had to practically wrestle Lady Livia away to take breaks and force food into her all the while messaging her limbs to encourage blood flow.

It was not healthy to sit at a desk for such long periods of time! Especially so far into pregnancy, but her lady always argued that lying in bed was no better, so Beth had no choice but to put up with it. At least the heiress was wise enough to turn away from her writing when it was time for Beth to look over her during her now daily check-ups.

But now, it seems the strange obsession was all over.

And what good timing it had the grace to have.

“Well, I suppose that is unfortunate,” Beth says, not sounding put upon in the least. Her smile even grows as she cheerily begins to pour the orange juice.

Livia just groans in annoyance and slumps further into her seat as she nibbles on a still-warm pink-berry muffin.

Amaya finishes with the bed and strolls over. In her hands was a squirming Noctis who was trying to melt right through her fingers as his long body became boneless.

“Did you bring food for this menace as well, Miss Beth?” The maid asks, finally releasing the animal on a chair, but the feline was quick to jump onto the table brimming with steaming food and stroll over to Livia to demand head pats, which she gives readily.

“Of course,” Beth says and shakes a small silver saucer to gain Nocti's attention to the finely sliced meat inside of it. The feline abandons Livia’s warm palm in favor of his meal.

Amaya takes a seat at the table and slumps forward and sighs.

“Shouldn’t you be heading to the training yard?” Livia asks her blandly, munching on a sausage.

“No. Today is a recovery day,” Amaya says and then sighs again.

“It seems Miss Liliana is as energetic as ever,” Beth hums on the other side of the room. She pulls back the heavy pink curtains to let in the morning sun. Or, what little of it that could be seen. The early day was grey and the clouds threaten to let loose the water they have gathered any second.

“Way too energetic,” Amaya whines, “Just when I think she is starting to settle down, she jumps back up with renewed energy. Like a spring. I cannot believe my limbs actually have begun to ache. As if I am some newbie who has barely picked up a sword.” The maid pouts.

“You have no skill in swords,” Sen snarks as his head appears over the balcony. He calmly climbs up and sits on the rail as Beth lets out a surprised gasp.

Amaya and Livia coolly turn to him in unison.

“I do not specialize in swords,” Amaya snaps and hurls a grape at him with surprising force. It zips across the room in a straight path, narrowly avoiding a small vase, before dropping over the balcony in the exact place Sen had been sitting a few seconds ago.

“You missed,” Sen mocks, stepping cleanly into the room.

Amaya picks up another grape threateningly, smirking, “I doubt I will do so again.”

“Miss Amaya, put that grape down this instant,” Beth scolds once she got her heart rate back to normal, still clutching her chest, “You should not waste food!”

Amaya just rolls her eyes and pointedly places the grape in her mouth instead, chewing slowly with a pout.

Beth then turns to Sen, “And you should not be climbing into a lady's room in broad daylight, young man! It is entirely inappropriate. What if someone has seen you? No, I am sure someone has, given the guard's station right below Lady Livia’s room. You will cause lips to flap even more so than they already do.”

“Apologies, Miss Beth,” Sen says nonchalantly, raising up his hands in surrender, “I made sure no one saw me, so you have no worries in that regard.”

“It is also not the first time that he has climbed to our lady’s window like a deviant skulking in the night,” Amaya comments with a smirk.

Beth heads whip in her direction, “What?”

In the resounding quiet, Livia's small, stifled gasps draw four pairs of eyes to her person.

Noctis instantly darts for her, half-finished with his meal, and jumps, intending to land either on her belly or her chest and crawl to her neck, but he is caught midflight by Amaya. He let out an irritated little and starts squirming.

Beth rushes to her lady’s side, while Sen stays back but keeps a careful watch over her. When Beth notices the small strain in Livia’s face disappear a moment later, she smiles in sympathy.

“Have the false pains returned?” She asks, and picks up a pale wrist and turns it over to place her finger on Livia’s pulse.

Livia drags a hand down her stomach and sighs, “They have. A bit in the middle of the night, and just now.”

Amaya gives up on trying to keep Noctis occupied and stands up and hands him over to his other parent. Noctis attempts to leap down from Sen's arms, but a finger scratching behind his black silky ear is all it takes for him to settle down and start purring.

Amaya just shakes her head. Cat people. And turns her attention to her employer. She was a bit curious.

“False pains?” She asks, taking her seat again.

Beth lets go of Livia’s wrist and pushes a large glass of water forward to her lady. Livia rolls her eyes but starts to drink from it as she was silently coxed to do.

“The body prepares itself for the birth by practicing occasionally. This practice can cause pain for the mother, but it is nothing to be worried over as it is perfectly normal and tends to fade away after a while,” Beth explains calmly.

Amaya's eyebrow ticks up, her interest growing. She never knew that. She, like most other women, was not educated on the topic of pregnancy and childbirth. After all, there was no reason to know about it until it happened. Or so, that was what she had thought. Or, been taught to think.

Once, she could not understand why Liliana had been so fascinated with the topic, but after being in such close proximity to Livia these past few months, her own curiosity had been sparked despite her initial reluctance.

“Does it hurt a lot?” She asks her employer, eyeing her round belly.

“A bit, at times,” Livia responds honestly, “It is similar to regular cramps.”

“Ah,” Amaya says, understanding instantly.

“But you are fine now?” Sen asks, and the three-woman eyes fall onto him at the same time. Beth flushes, realizing they had been discussing such topics in the presence of a man, but Amaya and Livia did not seem to care.

Livia squirms in her seat, and sighs, “Yeah, I am. I think they have retreated once more.”

“Ahem,” Beth says, clearing her throat, “Well, I suppose it is best you finish with your breakfast, Lady Livia. As I had mentioned before, your grandmother had called for you. She waits in the parlor at the end of this wing. The guards would not let her past without your approval after that fiasco with your mother days ago.”

Livia's face darkens a bit, recalling when Sen had reported the confrontation between Lynette and Liliana before her keen eyes fall upon the only male in the room.

“How did she seem to you?” She asks him.

“Like a carnivorous cow,” Sen states blandly.

Amaya inhales the orange juice she had been sipping on at the words, and lets out a loud snort as she coughs and splutters. Beth stops putting away the empty dishes to pat at her back, looking faintly amused.

Livia smiles coldly, “That is granny Giselle alright.”

“Will you,” Amaya covers up her cough with a hand, “Uhg, are you actually going to see the countess?”

“I have been summoned,” Livia says drolly.

“So? You have been rejecting all of your ‘summons’ with no discrimination up into this point,” Amaya says after drinking a tentative sip of her orange juice, “I don’t see why you should stop now.”

“I agree with Miss Amaya,” Beth says, and folds her hands in front of her skirt, “Now that you are on your last month of pregnancy, it is common practice for the mother to be to retreat from society in preparations to give birth. We have used that excuse well so far, and I think it applies even more so now than ever. I don’t think it is a good idea to meet with your grandmother. It will only bring you unneeded stress.”

Livia pushes her plate away and wipes off her fingers and mouth primly with a napkin. She then rolls her neck and stares at Amaya then at Beth.

“...but?” She coaxes.

Beth stares at her warily, “But, it is best to figure out what exactly your mother and your grandmother are planning sooner rather than later. Lady Lynette was bad enough on her own, but with cohorts...”

Amaya sets her empty glass on the table and messages her throat, “This is why I hate aristocracy. Your lot is worse than animals fighting over a single bone. Always forever hungry and they are never satisfied with what they already have,” she says angrily, glaring at the table, her dark eyes unseeing.

“Gaining more power is always a strong motivator,” Sen comments from his position on the bed. his finger does a little circle idly and a small vibrant blue arrow sprouts out from it.

It sings through the air before stopping near the table and shimming its flat head under the silver bowl Noctis had been eating out of. It curls around it before retreating back to its users and dissipating the moment the half-eaten meal is in Sen’s hand. He places the bowl down on the floor and Noctis eagerly jump out of his lap to resume eating.

“So, I shall go,” Livia decides.

Amaya just sinks further into her seat while Beth's mouth flattens but she says nothing, only begins to retrieve the empty plates.

Livia sighs and says, “What are the chances that Duke Valentine returns to his estate after being away for so long not being a factor for my grandmother’s sudden interest?”

Her father's return, that meant that her mother gained limited access to her. As long as she was in her father's presence, Lynette could be in Livia’s. Essentially, one of the hands Livia had tied tightly behind her mother’s back would be free soon.

“Zero,” Beth, Amaya, and Sen say at the same time.

Livia chuckles dispassionately, “As I thought.”

Livia waddles into the plain parlor her grandmother had waited in for the past forty minutes with slow, casual steps. Two royal guards follow her into the room along with Sen while two others stations themselves right outside.

Beth's hands clench around her own as her lady pretends to lean on her for support, and Livia can tell from the corner of her eyes she is startled by the unassuming appearance of the old countess.

Livia understands the sentiment well. Once, her grandmother had been a cherished family member to her. Between her oppressive mother and her neglectful father, Granny Giselle has seemed like a calm and inevitable beacon she could not help fall into in the desperate hope of staying afloat.

Too bad Lady Giselle ended up being even more unsettling than her own mother.

When those pale blue eyes fall upon Livia, she represses a small shiver, pushes down a strangled memory of her childhood, and inclines her head in greeting when her grandmother instantly rises to her feet upon seeing her.

“Grandmother Giselle,” She greets formally and does not smile. Livia does not miss how those pale eyes fall upon her stomach, how something like a long shadow draws across them before they return to back to calm waters.

“My sweet dear Livia,” Lady Giselle says and walks forward with her raised arms. Her pale eyes flicker to Beth once, giving the midwife a once over, before her soft hands rest on Livia’s shoulder.

“My goodness, just look at you,” the countess puts pressure on her shoulders, and Livia willingly lets her body be turned this way and that as Lady Giselle inspects her from head to toe like one would a piece of meat they intend to bargain on.

“You have grown so much since the last time I had seen you, my little deer,” Lady Giselle says, her pale gaze a physical weight, “To think you would bloom into such a stunning young lady,” the old countess continues to praise.

Livia does smile now. Small and minuscule. She inclines her head again and says, “Thank you for such high praises, grandmother. I am surprised to hear them, giving the circumstances.” Then she places a hand on her stomach, on the exact spot her son was currently leaning against, asleep, bringing attention to it, instead of away.

Lady Giselle's hands fall from her shoulder and she takes a step back. Her eyes crinkle as she lays them on her stomach, a dawning kindness pouring from them.

“Oh dear, I will hear no talk of that. I heard enough of it back at home. I am sure you have grown weary of it as well,” she says and shakes her head before taking another step back, “As far as I am concerned, you have done nothing wrong. The fault lies solely in those foolish boys the people of this land call princes,” she states bluntly before her hand than tugs on her granddaughters gently, “Come now, I know how straining it can be to be on your feet so far into your pregnancy. Let us sit.”

As Livia lets go of Beth's hand and lets herself be dragged to the stiff but lavish couches in the parlor, her purple eyes meet the midwife's hazel. They both share a look of mild surprise.

“There you are, dear,” Lady Giselle says as Livia takes a heavy seat next to her, “Now, are you hungry? Should I summon for tea? I know you have just eaten breakfast, but when I was pregnant with your uncle, I could not stop eating. I was constantly hungry. It was like I turned into one of the monsters of The Chasm.”

“I am not, but thank you for asking,” Livia says and does not bother to cross her ankle as the countess does. It was uncomfortable and to put it plainly, she just did not want to.

Lady Giselle nods, “Good, good.”

“Now, my dear, I know you are wondering why I suddenly called upon you, and so close to birth,” the countess says, hitting the target with professional ease.

“Yes, I did,” Livia confirms, well aware that the being before her was never as she seemed and to take all hear words with a bucket of salt.

“It is a simple thing really,” Lady Giselle says, patting the back of her hand, “I was concerned. For you and your wellbeing. Once I heard of what your mother had done, I did not know how to act, frozen in shock as I was. But finally, I have come to check up on you. To see how you are faring after all that you have been through.”

Livia says nothing, waiting. Like her mother, her grandmother was not interested in hearing her opinion, not truly. She preferred to be listened to or to speak at others. Livia has learned as much.

Lady Giselle removes her hand and pats her granddaughter's cheek. Her pale eyes were drawn up into mild passive concern, “You poor thing. None of this should have ever happened to you. You were meant for greater things.”

The countess finally draws her hand away and rests it in her lap. Her mouth presses into a neutral line before it pulls down into something resembling anger.

Faint. Always faint like a single stroke of watercolor.

“Those princes,” She hisses it out like a curse, “They have ruined you. They have spit on all of your mother's hard work and made fools of us all.”

The countess seems to have no trouble voicing her displeasure in front of King Grails' men.

Livia feels the moment when Lady Giselle's attention returns to her. She meets her grandmothers' pale blue eyes with her own unwavering ones. When the pause in words is drawn out, Livia raises a single eyebrow. A small sign or roll of the wrist that says ‘go on’.

The countess's lips twitch, her pale blue eyes brighten, just a bit.

“You have grown so much, my little deer,” Lady Giselle says again, sounding contended, “Despite all that has happened, all the trials you had to endure, physically and emotionally, you still sit here, before me, after being snatched from us. You have done what no other would have.”

Livia tilts her head, asking calmly, “And what is it that I have done, Grandmother Giselle?”

Lady Giselle's lips stretch wide on her round face. Livia would not liken it to a smile.

Smiles did not cause a shiver to crawl up her spine and something like a screeching warning to go off in her head.

“You have returned,” Lady Giselle says simply, hauntingly, “Back to us, and stronger and more resilient than you have ever been, my little deer.” Her pale gaze falls out the window, where thunder lets out a choked whimper, “It can be nothing but the wills of fates that made it so. It is a sign that we cannot ignore.”

Livia only pats her stomach, ignoring the hairs that stand up on the back of her neck, and hums.

“If you say so, Grandmother,” She replies back, her tone even, emotionless. Her face was as smooth as a doll, not a hint of her true thought could be seen upon it.

Lady Giselle's hand once again reaches for her face. Livia does not flinch when cool fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“I do say so child,” The countess coos before she leans back and continues to hang a smile on her face.