/ Istvan – FC Rob Evans
/ Both images borrowed from their Instagram
/ I own none of these images, all used with love and respect <3
/ Rings – enoirvado / Vegas view – Instagram sin1city / Quotes – all taken from Pinterest and none had credit for where they came from.
Istvan crouched down beside the sofa so that his head was level with the small bump, his warm hand settling just above the waistband of Vik’s pink silky shorts as he looked up; she was fast asleep. She was so exhausted after today.
He smiled sadly at her; finally opening up about how she was feeling, all the nervous energy she’d used up at the hospital, she’d hardly been able to climb the stairs back to their apartments within the palace. He’d wrapped his arm securely around her side pulling her close to him as her legs wobbled, her floaty dress concealing the little bump underneath as they passed the security staff. When they reached their home, she allowed him to guide her through to their dressing room, yawning as she protested that she didn’t want to go to bed, that he should stop fussing and she had things to do. But King Istvan wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer today… Viktoria grumbled as she agreed to get into her pjs, still refusing to go to bed; the King eventually struck a compromise with his wife that if she went for a nap on the cloud-like sofa in their lounge, he would feel much happier. He knew he had been right, because within a few minutes of her laying her head on the cushion and him closing the heavy curtains, she was out like a light…
Istvan placed his lips gently against her soft flesh, closing his eyes as he whispered,
“Hello my beautiful little button… I know your mommy isn’t really feeling very well just now but I promise you, you’re the two most important people in the world to me and I’m going to look after both of you; the three of us are going to be so happy and you will be so, so loved my little darling… I can’t wait to meet you.”
He rested his forehead against his wife’s pregnant belly, his mind a jumble of fears and overwhelming emotions, stroking the precious little bump they’d created together as he continued,
“My Baby, your mommy is so amazing. She changed my whole life for the better… I never dreamed that it could be so wonderful. She’s made me who I am today and she’s given me you… We just need to do everything we can to make her feel better and show her how much we are always going to love her… We need to show her that there’s nothing to be scared of… You will adore her just as much as I do, I have no doubts about that Baby… She’s really smart and funny, and she’s so sweet and kind. I hope in my heart that you grow up to be just like her, my lovely little button. She’s so special: she’s my whole world. Just wait til you’re here and you’ll see my darling, you’re going to love her so very much, and I promise you, you are going to mean everything to her, my Baby.”
Istvan placed another loving kiss against her tummy as he whispered,
“I love you so, so much.”
He raised to his feet, smoothing Viktoria’s vest top back down to cover the little bump, leaning down to place an equally loving kiss to his wife’s pale cheek as he pulled a cosy, warm furry throw over her sleeping body,
“I really hope you know just how much I love you, my beautiful girl…”
Istvan perched himself on a stool at the breakfast bar in the royal couple’s kitchen area, pouring himself a cup of honey and apple tea as he opened his laptop, sipping as he typed the words ‘antenatal depression’ into the search engine. His dark brow furrowed as he researched what Mr Kolettis had touched on. There were articles about women who felt like they couldn’t connect with their babies, women having panic attacks, women who felt suicidal… He felt physically sick. Viktoria didn’t feel like that, did she? He peered around the doorframe at her sleeping form on the sofa. She just looked like his Viktoria. The pretty girl he met in New York that he couldn’t stop thinking about when he got back to Cordonia. The amazing girl he’d given the pearl in the grotto. The sweet girl he’d kissed in the hedge maze and confessed his love to. The beautiful, happy, loving, fearless girl he’d married… On the outside nothing had changed: how could she have depression or anxiety?
He clicked into various websites looking for solutions and ways to support his wife, seeking to understand as much as he could in order to help his love. There were various triggers: previous depression and anxiety, fear of new responsibilities, insecurity in the relationship with the baby’s father, concerns over body changes during pregnancy, money worries, if the pregnancy was difficult or unplanned, loss of independence, loss of control over one’s career, lack of support or friends and family… Istvan acknowledged that some of those were definitely relevant… Talking about how Vik was feeling and having a network of people to support her seemed to be one of the fundamentals to helping her get better… They would work on with some guidance from Mr Kolettis and his team. Viktoria had been given another appointment in a few days time. Istvan sighed. His wife was notoriously not a good talker. She was the sort who always put on a brave face and got on with things… “Get up, dress up, show up…” was her motto… Humour was always used as a deflector or a defense mechanism… She would tease Drake about it, and Istvan would laugh that she was fairly oblivious that she was cut from the same cloth… This was going to be so tough for her…
He swallowed hard as he read through the list of symptoms online, Istvan recognised a lot of them in his wife (to varying extents), the King had just put them down to hormones, assuming it was standard for a pregnant women to go through a wide range of emotions: irritability, lack of concentration, mood swings, panic at things that shouldn’t really cause such a visceral reaction, tearfulness, the poor sleep she’d admitted to yesterday, struggling to bond with the baby, not feeling good enough and feeling guilty about various thoughts and feelings…
He sipped at his tea as he continued to click… He found himself reading about pregnancy yoga. It used to be really common for him to wake up and find his wife and the little dogs on the balcony on a yoga mat as the sun came up…. Vik had always enjoyed yoga but hadn’t really practiced it since finding out about the baby, because she said she didn’t know which poses could be harmful. Istvan reckoned that she may find a bit of mindfulness would melt away some of her stresses. He recalled that she’d told him when they first lived together and he found her on the balcony twisted into a swan pose one day, that she’d started doing yoga to relax after her mom had passed away. She encouraged him to try but he’d politely declined at the time. He hadn’t thought very deeply about her comment about her mom’s passing, but after what she’d said in Mr Kolettis’ office yesterday, he began to appreciate that not having that release probably wasn’t helping her right now… Istvan grabbed a pen and a notepad from the drawer and jotted down the number of a Personal Trainer he’d found living in the capital who specialised in ‘Yoga Bellies’, specially designed yoga classes for moms-to-be.
Next, he opened up Viktoria’s calendar on the laptop. They shared an Outlook calendar to coordinate their monarchy engagements, her charitable work, and their own personal lives. Coded pink for her, blue for him, purple when they’d be working together. Istvan scrubbed his hand across his face at the sea of pink and purple entries… His wide eyes searching the reams of dates and events… His wife was a workaholic to some extent and he’d always believed she thrived on it… Maybe she normally did, but the pressure wasn’t doing her an awful lot of good right now… He started to pick through the entries, marking them down on the notepad; the purple was easy, he would just look after them on his own as and when required. He started looking at the pink ‘Vik’ entries: what could he cover, what could Maxwell look after at the Monarch’s Trust, what could he draft Regina into? If she understood the situation, his step-mother would happily help out… Maxwell would fall over himself to help the couple also… ‘He’ll probably demand to be a Godparent in return’, Istvan chuckled to himself, knowing Viktoria would chose Max in a heartbeat completely regardless of any cheeky Beaumont bribes. He would have to approach this sensitively with Viktoria: she gave such a lot of herself to the monarchy and the charity, he didn’t want her to feel like he was taking anything away from her, but at the same time, he definitely needed to take a lot of the stress off of her… But still, he needed to get her to agree…
Next, he opened a travel guide online. He wanted to get Vik away from everything, just for a few days. He found a divine looking spa resort in gorgeous Santorini: it was only a short flight, it was in a very private location overlooking the South Aegean, where they could have their own villa, meaning they should have all the downtime they required to relax… He looked at the spa treatments listed, there were various blissful sounding therapies on offer, massages, scrubs, manicures, facials, scalp massages… Many specifically tailored to ‘babymoon trips’. He wanted so desperately to make his little wife feel good, a few days in Oia might be the perfect place to start… Maybe when they got back, he could schedule regular prenatal spa treatments for his wife at the palace? He would look into that later…
He clicked into a few more articles on combatting antenatal depression. In the meantime Istvan found one article he thought suggested something that was simple to do and may be helpful to Viktoria in connecting with the baby. The author suggested creating a space for the baby. Not a nursery, but somewhere to actively think about the pregnancy and spend time there, to be creative and nurturing, almost like a ritual each day. Decorating a space with growing flowers, scan photos, memories of the conception, relationship milestones from mom and dad… It sounded like something Viktoria would enjoy and something that Istvan could take part in also…
He scribbled down all of the ideas on the pad, adding one more in a circle: ‘journal’. Istvan was a huge fan of keeping a journal, he had ever since he was a child and he found it very cathartic, maybe it would serve the same purpose for Viktoria…
He looked round at Vik on the sofa, their little squad of corgis were lying at her side as she slept. Smiling as he thought about how his wife looked after their three hairy babies he started fall down a google rabbit hole, ‘how to make sure your pets still feel loved when there’s a baby on the way’, ‘best ways of teaching children to be kind to animals’, stumbling across ‘pregnancy announcements that include dogs’. As he flipped through cute and heartwarming images, Istvan felt his throat catch and tears spring into his kind blue eyes; this was exactly the sort of cheesy little thing his wife would love, should love, if she felt like herself… He could picture her dressing their dogs up with little glasses on Oscar and a school tie on Raul, maybe putting bows by Kiah’s ears, and placing a little chalkboard sign in the background: “Guard Dogs 101 – 6 months and counting”. Then imagining the proud, excited parents-to-be sitting together between the dogs, hands on the bump, as the dogs cocked their heads looking simultaneously cute and confused… Istvan held his head in his hands as the tears broke free: this was supposed to be a joyful time…
Tbc – VP 💖
