Werewolf fairytales

Princesses has pretty babies

*Paidley*

Two hours later, Jonas’s tummy is tight as a drum, he has been given the gentlest of massages, he had screamed until he was blue and breathless… and finally, exhausted, he has fallen asleep.

I carefully put him down in his cradle, humming the last few bars of the song I’d sung him to sleep.

“Do you still believe he will be all right?” his mother asks, bending over to tuck the blanket just under the baby’s chin.

“You saw his nappy. It was perfectly normal, with no blood. He’ll be fine. He’s a fighter. It hurts so much, and yet he kept on trying to tell us, so we can make the pain stop. He hasn’t given up.” I say softly.

“That’s true,” the princess says, brightening a little despite her fatigue. Then she adds, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this worn-out in my life.”

“You must go to bed,” I say. “Jonas will sleep for a few hours. And if he wakes up, I’ll give him some water. He still needs more water.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then: “What was that you sang to him?” the princess asks.

“It’s an Italian song,” I say. “Something about sunshine and courting and all that nonsense. Mother made me…” I stop.

“You’re no nursemaid,” the princess states. “You’re a ranked she-wolf. You sing in Italian, your mother prepared you for a debut, and your dress is quite nice… even though I think that shade of green isn’t quite right with your hair, which is beautiful, by the way.”

“I am a nursemaid,” I say, feeling a pulse of desperation. “My family’s come down in the world, that’s all.”

She looks at me, “If that’s the case, why are you wearing a pearl pendant?”

“It was a gift from my mother,” I say firmly. My voice doesn’t wobble because that, at least, is the truth.

“It must be a very recent family downfall. Because your shoes are lovely and not in the least worn-out. I have some just like them, and they’re made of Italian leather.” She points out.

I look down at my slippers. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might be betrayed by the condition of my footwear.

I look back up to find the princess grinning at me. “You’ve run away, likely from a loathsome marriage. Or no… you’re too young for that. A loathsome suitor. And, of course, you ran away to the castle. I’m sorry to say that the prince is already married to me, because otherwise you could have married him yourself, which would have been rather romantic.”

“Yes, it would have been,” I say uncertainly. Then I add: “You should take a good rest now, Your Highness.”

“I suppose I could return to the south tower. I left my husband sleeping.” She bends over the cradle again. “Do you really believe that Jonas will get better? How on earth did you gain all this knowledge about babies? Has your family truly come down in the world?”

“I’d… well…”

“Whatever you tell me, I won’t be in the least shocked,” the princess says, with such a sweet smile that I swallow hard. “After my father died, my stepmother treated me abominably, so I gained all sorts of knowledge that I mightn’t otherwise have.”

“My uncle is a doctor,” I find myself explaining. “I used to visit him and my aunt for a month at a time, and I always begged him to take me along on his rounds.”

“If you were a man, you’d be a doctor,” she says, nodding. “Sometimes I feel that, as she-wolves, we have the short end of the stick.”

“Exactly,” I agree. “If I were a man, I’d be a doctor, and no one could tell me what to do. I would choose…” I break off.

“Oh, you did flee from someone awful,” the princess says, with evident delight. “Do you want to boil him in oil, or is it even worse than that?”

She is so charming that I can’t help smiling back, but just then the princess gives a huge yawn.

“You really must sleep, Your Highness,” I say. “Jonas is going to cry a great deal. Every time he’s fed, in fact, and much of the time in between, and that might go on for months. At the least, several more weeks, given his age. We must make certain that you eat and sleep sufficiently. I can hold Jonas, but I cannot feed him.”

“No more ‘your highness’ I’m Ella,” the princess says, yawning again.

I shake my head, “Oh, but I couldn’t…”

“Of course you can,” she says. “I want to hear all about the troll of a man you’re fleeing, but I think I will go to sleep for a bit. What did you say your name was?”

“Miss Silverheart,” I say desperately.

“Really, Miss Silverheart, you and I just stood shoulder to shoulder and examined my son’s nappy. I’m Ella, and you’re…”

“Paisley,” I say, defeated. “But it just doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“Nonsense. We’re all strange birds here in the castle. There’s Theo, of course, and I was something of a maid-of-all-work to my stepmother for years before Gabriel came along and tried to make me into a princess.”

“Tried?” I ask, just stopping myself from inquiring what Ella means by *There’s Theo, of course*. “By all indications, you are a princess,” I point out.

“It didn’t take,” Ella says, with another huge yawn. “Princesses swan about in satin-lined carriages. What’s more, everyone knows that when a princess has a child, it has a rosebud mouth and sunny blue eyes. Whereas I have birthed the ugliest baby in all of the country.”

“He’s not that ugly,” I say, feeling defensive on behalf of poor little Jonas.

“Yes, he is,” his mother says, leaning back over the cradle. She puts a finger on his nose. “A little potato here.” His eyes. “Currants are bigger than his eyes.” His mouth. “Well, his mouth isn’t bad. But have you ever seen a baby open his mouth wider or make such a frightful noise?”

“Never,” I say truthfully. “You return to bed, and I’ll bring you the baby after your nap.”

“But what about you? Shouldn’t you be getting settled? Oh no, what am I thinking? You’ll be sleeping right through this doorway, at least as long as you’re pretending to be a nursemaid. I’m too selfish to let you stop yet.”

I smile. “I’m happy to be a nursemaid, Your Highness. Truly, I love babies.”

“Ella,” she insists, straightening up from the cradle. “I think it would be best if you brought Jonas to the dining room when he wakes up. We eat at eight, and I wouldn’t think he’ll be hungry again before then. You needn’t change, by the way.”

“I shan’t change,” I say, shocked. “Nursemaids don’t eat in company.”

“Nursemaids don’t call their mistresses Ella, so you are obviously an exception.”

“What about the baby?” I ask. “I wouldn’t want to leave him.”

“He will be with us, of course,” Ella says. “I don’t like to have him out of my sight.” And with a last touch of Jonas’s nose, she goes out the door.