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Princess Catherine was in blinding pain. The bright hospital lights, the doctor’s voice, her husband’s hand in hers…all faded to black as a scream ripped through her chest. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead and tears streamed down her cheeks.
She mustered one last push before she collapsed into the sturdy comfort of the hospital bed.
In an instant, everything was different. She could feel the shift. The world she had known for the last nine months—maybe all her life—had been flipped upside down. She had her third child. She had her baby. Henry was finally here.
Her eyes glazed once more, a dazed laugh escaping her, as she attempted to regain her breath and an ounce of Royal composure.
Her eyes were still closed, heaves turning into gentle pants, her body limp with exhaustion. Then from somewhere far away, but astonishingly close to her heart, she heard a wail. Her baby.
She blinked her eyes open and in a blurry image of love, she saw Arthur staring at her with such adoration in his eyes, her heart clenched.
He leaned forward to kiss her nose, wiping her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. His hands brushed stray hairs out of her face and behind her ears, as he rested his forehead against hers.
Their grins mirrored each other and for a moment it even seemed like they were the only two people in the world.
Another wail sounded in the distance.
“I’m so proud of you, love. Phillip, Bea, Henry…we’re all so proud.”
Catherine took a sharp breath as reality took definition around her, “H-Henry! Where’s Henry?”
Arthur laughed at her panic for which she hit his shoulder with all her remaining strength. “They’re just cleaning him up, dear.”
Then there he was. Five pounds & twenty inches of soft skin, sleepy eyes and fair hair. This brand new person, placed on his Mum’s chest, taking in the world around him.
He was absolutely beautiful. No one could take their eyes off of him.
When Arthur slowly and unsurely reached out to hold his son, Catherine whispered, “Don’t break him.” Only half joking.
A huff of air escaped Arthur—it might have been a laugh, it might have been a sob. “I wouldn’t dare,” he whispered through a trembling smile.
Cradling his baby boy, it was a raw moment. No camera flashes, no press, no spectators, no BULLSHIT.
It was just a family, smiling smiles too big and bright to show the world. Without a care in the world, but their darling children…all three.
In another room, a short distance away, you would find two siblings, unaware the third was born. Two kids, unburdened by the future ahead of them, simply being kids the best they could be.
In a show of contrast, awake in her chambers and plagued by constant unrest, lay Queen Mary. Unable to sleep at ease with all the rich history that surrounded her. The legacy of her ancestors weighing down on her aging shoulders. Riddled with the knowledge that her deviant daughter carried that very legacy in her womb.
The monarchy, delicately tangled and wrapped up in a neat little bow. Pull at one string and the whole thing falls apart.
The world was a messy place and little Henry was now a part of it. The day after, he’d come to the palace for the very first time. Unassuming, in the arms of his father, he would meet his destiny. His entire future planned decades ahead of him.
It would be the big news at the tip of every Englishman’s tongue. The spare was born.
His shoulders, like many that came before him, will face the duress of responsibility. Slowly molded into a stiff cardboard cut-out of decorum and century-old traditions.
But for now, he was safe. Surrounded by two people who wanted the best for their child, before the best for their country.
Born to a Princess and Star. He could have never afforded a quiet life. To stare away at magazines of American boys with soft curls and strong smiles, would be to have learned nothing from Icarus flying too close to the sun.
He could never imagine a normal life, but in his wildest dreams, he hoped for a happy one.
And so, after all the bad cards he was dealt, the universe granted Prince Henry his deepest darkest wish.