As the two women continued on, the youngest pitched forward suddenly, grabbing hold of the closest thing to her- the arm of her sister, who managed to keep them both from tumbling to the ground.
"Juliette?" The concerned tone of the elder sister rang out as she bought her dear sibling to her feet. "Did you trip?" She asked in their mother tongue, the Ithanian words spilling out into the peaceful breeze of the park that carried the smell of incoming rain. Juliette shook her head slightly, clutching her arms around her abdomen before moving to continue on forward at a slow pace, her sister being bought along as a support.
"I believe, I should be catching a carriage home." The younger half-Ithanian said before flinching again. Darcinne, the eldest of the two, nodded her head in understanding but had a feeling this moment was different from others. She and her sister moved through the streets, avoidant of those bearing discolored skin and finally catching a carriage bound for Holzkirche.
The pained cries of the Wodenstaff rang clear and word for her husband was sent off, a messenger taking off from the estate lands atop a chestnut steed. Just after the toll of the next hour, the rushed footsteps of Lautaro could be heard just over the yells from inside the bedchambers. Despite this, the man never entered the room, being told to sit on a bench outside the door of the room by the page that had fetched him.
Many minutes, perhaps hours, ticked by before the cries and screams from within the room drifted off, leaving an odd silence over the halls of the estate. Lautaro lifted his hand from his eyes, gazing at the door expectantly for several moments before it finally opened, Darcie and the midwife of Juliette exiting the room after one another. A gentle smile, though perhaps a little forced, was worn on the face of the handmaiden while Darcie's expression was that of pure joy- any problem apparently lost on her on this dear moments.
"Lord Wodenstaff, you have fathered a daughter." The maid said quietly before gesturing him to enter the room of him and his wife. The man was on his feet in less than a second, preparing to bolt into the bedchambers before Darcie stepped forward to extend a hand and stop her brother-in-law. The Wodenstaff flicked his gaze over to that of the disowned Vauclain, brows raising in concern at the odd movement. "I should add though," the maid continued, if a little hesitant, "It was an extraordinarily difficult birth, Lady Wodenstaff is asleep at the moment, do avoid waking her." Lautaro's lips parted as if he was considering an answer before he simply ducked his head in response and turned to quietly move into the chambers.
Within the room, only candles burnt as the curtains had been drawn to darken the room from the afternoon sunlight. Juliette laid under layers of blankets in a deep slumber, her face sickly pale and brows furrowed as if her dreams were not pleasant. Lautaro drew closer to his wife, taking a moment to tuck a loose strand of her short hair behind her ear before turning as the handmaiden offered him a small bundle of blankets. The man took them into his arms with extreme care as he gazed down at the fussy expression of his daughter, a smile overcoming his face as the realization that he was now truly a father dawned on him.
"Have you chosen a name for her, my lord?" The servant asked, staring at Lautaro and the newborn with an admiring smile. Darcie folded her arms as she drifted around towards the opposite side of the bed, resting carefully on the edge of the bed so to look at her sister- despite knowing she had survived, a nagging feeling of dread still was over her as she still feared that another of her sisters would be taken by the same fate of Marianne.
"Mathurine." Lautaro finally said, gazing at the slumbering babe, "Mathurine Wodenstaff."
Days passed since the birth of their child, Lautaro hardly finding time for anything other than overlooking his daughter and how she was being cared for. Juliette on the other hand had stayed silent, sitting by the window to watch the frequent rain of the following days or attempting to rest despite the nightmares that plagued her sleep. The woman seemed to shut out those she loved with the door of her bedchamber, building a wall of silence around her while the cries of her daughter, soothed only by the newborn's father, echoed outside it.
