In a shabby palace, there was a deserted Queen’s bedroom, without a single lady-in-waiting.

The Queen was breathing restless, on a bed that was rotting with fungus, as if showing the bankrupt budget due to the war she never wanted but dragged into by her husband, Felipe II.

Only one old woman was at her side since the Queen was deserted by her ministers from the beginning and also deserted by her people after the battle.

Nonetheless, she was smiling.

She was wearing a huge smile as she had the entire world at her side, though she was breathing restless.

“Congratulations, your majesty. It’s a healthy prince.”

The midwife bowed her head, showing her queen her congratulations. Her wrinkled face also wore a smile. Because she also knew how much her queen waited for this day.

“R…Really…?”

The Queen spoke one word very hard. She was over 40. Since the surgery and medicine was not developed at that time, an old age pregnancy could have cost her life during the labor.

Nonetheless, she didn’t lose consciousness and did her best until the final moment. Because he was not only the child she had always wanted but also the son of the man she deeply loved.

The Queen held out her hand. The midwife, who had just cut the umbilical cord, handed her the prince who just cried, and she carefully held her young son in her womb.

Small breath, loud crying, warm temperature, beating heart.

“I…It was real!”

Warm glass ball trickled down her cheek. To suppress it, the Queen tried to laugh.

Suddenly, the smiling and crying got mixed. Her sorrow has erupted. Her laughter changed into a weird sound, unclear whether it’s crying or laughing. There was no sign of Blue Blood.

However, the Queen couldn’t and didn’t control herself. What the heck. Only she, her son and the midwife was her.

After crying and laughing for a while, with a crooked voice, she whispered to her son.

“You shall be the king of England and the Netherlands.”

Perhaps the smart prince understood what she said, she just had a hunch that her son tried to ask her back with surprise.

‘Silly me, he’s a newborn.’

With a smile, she gently patted her little son’s head. And after kissing her forehead, she went to sleep. So, she couldn’t hear her son – the main character of this story – speaking in a quiet voice - ‘oh my God…Bloody Mary?’ – uttering her infamous nickname.