The Romantic Trials Of A Transmigrated Empress
Chapter 331: What should a royal child be named?

Chapter 331: What should a royal child be named?

Sigrid was surprised to see the dinner arrangements in the gardens. Fireflies had been collected and placed in jars, tied to ropes and places around the flowers. It was a very beautiful sight to see. The stars in the sky and sound of crickets chirping made it all seem so natural and so romantic.

It looked like a date in a desert, just without the sand. But there were canopies, pillows, lights and lots of flowers. There was even a bed, prepared for when Sigrid was tired of sitting on the chair.

"Wow!" Sigrid exclaimed.

Standing beside her, Roland beamed with pride. It was almost as if he had planned it all and executed it himself.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It is very beautiful Roland," she looked around, laughing lightly. "Wow! I love the canopy and the lights and the pillows and the fact that we are alone."

All the servants gave her side eyes or pretended not to hear her. There was no such as alone for the royal couple, servants and knights were always within a few feet of them. Like now, they were only five feet away from the canopy. Even Jesting was there was there but he was sitting as he could not stand for long hours.

Roland pulled out a chair for her and welcomed her to sit. "I am so glad to have you back home. I also know that forgiveness is a process so I will not push you. We can take things one step at a time. But, there is something that I would like to do later at night."

Sigrid’s eyebrows crept upwards slowly. Here we go again, she thought. Where did he want to enjoy some risky sex tonight?

"It is not what you are thinking." he told her, with a lazy smile on his face.

"And how do you know what I am thinking?" she asked him.

He raised a glass of wine and tasted the content slowly. "You are obvious my wife, I have come to understand what the various looks on your face mean. I bet you were wondering if I would ask you if we could do it here in the gardens, under the stars. Or maybe on the back of a horse as it trots around the castle. Perhaps the edge of the moat, right on the spot where...."

"Stop, you have made your point." she laughed. "Tell me what is on your mind. What do you wish to do tonight."

"I want to lay in bed with you.." He started.

She snorted.

"And place my head on your stomach such that I can listen to the sound of our little Beowulf." His eyebrows danced, celebrating his cleverness.

"Who is Beowulf?" she asked.

His chin pointed downwards, directing her in the direction of her stomach. Dissatisfied, he grimaced and looked back. "Alistair, we need that sound barrier now."

"On it, your highness." The mage answered.

When Roland turned his head around and faced Sigrid again, the grimace was a smile. "The sound barrier is up so nobody can hear our conversation. Where were we?"

"Beowulf." she said, picking up a fork to get started on the dinner that was being served by maids. "When did our little peanut get a name and were was I when the voting happened?"

"I found the name in a storybook that Ethan Ridley lent me. It was about a hero named Beowulf, he slayed monsters and dragons. I cannot think of a more heroic name than that for our son." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and looked into her eyes. "Did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?"

She picked up a tumbler of berry juice, watching him with a mysterious smile on her face. Like she knew a secret or what he was up to. "Thank you, you look dashing yourself. You are wearing one of the silk shirts I chose for you but it looks like it has shrunk while I was away. Have you gained fat or muscle?"

He gasped, frowning and sputtering as if she had insulted him. "I am a knight and knights don’t put on fat. Noble lords put on fat, knights put on muscle. I will prove it right now."

He stood up abruptly and ripped the shirt off, showing his very well built chest and stomach muscles. He even raised his arms, folded his biceps and made a couple of poses. But that was not enough, he turned his back to her and showed off those muscles too. "Muscle Sigrid, I am all muscle and I will have you know my lady that I am still as sexy as I was on the day you met me. Maybe even more now."

The servants that had no idea what was going on as they could not hear the conversation between the couple rushed to pick up the shirt and buttons at Jesting’s orders. Others run off to bring a new shirt for Roland on Mrs. Elowin’s orders.

"This is why I said we should prepare shoes and extra clothes just in case." Jesting muttered.

"What do you suppose prompted this?" A footman whispered to a valet.

The valet shrugged. Without being able to hear what the couple was talking about, they were left to guess.

Meanwhile, Sigrid was urging Roland to clam down. "You don’t have to go all wolverine on me. I get it, you are muscle man."

Roland took a seat. "What is wolverine?"

"Something I heard from a child, even I have no idea what it means but I guess it is related to wolves." she lied. "Let us return to the subject of naming our child. I do not agree with Beowulf, our child could be a girl. What princess is named Beowulf? People will look at her and expect to see hairy hands and sharp ears and teeth. What do you think of Galahad if it is a boy and Leif if it is a girl."

Roland held up a finger and down all of the wine in his glass. He set the glass down and gave her his best exasperated look. "Leaf!!"

"Leif." She said.

"Leaf!!" He sputtered.

"You are not hearing me, it is Leaf." She said enunciated the pronunciation only to realize that she had said the wrong name and it made her groan and close her eyes.

"See." Roland smirked.

"Fine," she mumbled. Dropping her fork, she reached for Mauve’s latest creations, mini chocolate tarts. "How about Lea, Rhea or Athena."

Roland smacked his lips, as if he was tasting the names. "Mmm, they don’t sound soft for a baby girl. Maybe Lilia, Anya, Aurora, Willow, Ivy, Celeste. They sound less warrior like and more pick me up and swing me around while we play in a pink cloud or bubble. If we have a daughter, I want her to ride around in a pink bubble, to be pretty, soft, smell nice all the time and spend all of her life with her father inside the high walls of this castle where she is safe and sound and happy forever."

Sigrid’s jaw dropped.