DADDY.

Prologue

...

It's raining.

The harsh winds make the distant trees dance, and the waters of the ponds ripple enthusiastically. The cold pellets of semi frozen water hitting the window in quick rhythmic fashion and flashes of loud sounds and light are more than enough to frighten my babies awake. Scooting to the edge of the rocking chair, I peek over the ledge of the cradle and touch my two babies cheeks with single digits. Both digits of my hands caressing the soft skin of my crying one year old and my startled awake three year old. They soon quiet down and return to their peaceful slumber, probably listening to the sound of rain whooshing and tapping the glass on the window.

I, however, sit and admire my beautiful babies. Their warm complexions and white hair compliment each other, and me. They might have their fathers eyes, but each and every one of them look like me. Hair as white as snow, skin as warm as honey or even gold, and beauty far beyond average, even for a baby. As of today, I am waiting for the arrival of my fourth daughter. Her kicks tell me she's ready to be delivered as she moves lower and lower into my stomach. Noticing the flood of liquid underneath me, I ring for my head lady, and the royal doctor, before I make sure a few trustworthy maids watch over my youngest children as another fetches the lord.

She's on her way.

As I'm quickly escorted to the nursery and birthing room, I grab onto the wall for support and cry out in agony while I clutch my lower stomach. The doctor excuses herself and checks under my nightgown as panic is evident on her face. She tells me that the baby has decided to make an early appearance and has started crowning. Maids arrive with a wheelchair and help me sit on it before they rush to the birthing room.

Upon arrival, standing in front of the large rain drenched window, frowning and deep in panicked thought, stood my lovely husband. He turns and carefully assesses my well-being before he assists me onto the bed and into the familiar birthing position. The doctor inspects the baby as handmaidens line the walls with towels and blankets for the arrival of my newborn... Our newborn baby girl.

"Madam, I need you to push," the doctor demanded and in all of twenty painfully long minutes, a baby girl was delivered. "Maybella Carmenova..." I smile at my husband's voice. "A beautiful name for our beautiful girl." I look down at the infant feeding on my breast, suckling away, and smile. Black hair and pale skin just like her fathers, and the same eyes as mine... the opposite of my other children and an exact replica of my dear husband. I coo at the blessing in my arms. She's perfect.

Until the doctor came back.

"... Pardon me, My Lord... Madam... I have terrible news." The doctor holds off until my husband signals for her to continue. "The young lady... she is mentally challenged." Small gasps and whispers float around the room. It cannot be. I gaze down at the child in my arms and begin to shed tears over her. "How could this be?!"

...

Fourteen years have passed since Young Miss Maybella Carmenova has been declared mentally challenged by the Royal doctor. The news circulated the dukedom like a wildfire on a dry patch of grass, creating a huge disaster within the dukedom. Due to this, the Duchess did her duties as a postpartum Mother and then left her daughter in the arms of a wet nurse who then took care of the girl as her nanny. But not everything lasts.

During the years Maybella was apart from her family, she lived a quiet, secluded life with her nanny and a few maids. She spent most of her time with her nanny, playing, going for walks, knitting, reading, and other activities... until the nanny fell ill one afternoon after getting caught in the rain. She later passed away from a slight fever when no medication was available for her to be cured within the abandoned palace. Maybella, desperately wishing for her nanny to get better, watched her still fairly young nanny take her last breath and sat with her for days, crying over her lifeless body, but never getting too close to see her lifeless face. She realized her nanny was gone, and quit crying and instead sat in the dark corner of the nanny's room, staring at the bed, and numb to her surroundings.