Diapers and Drama in 16th Century France

The baroness sat in her study, the flickering candlelight casting a yellow glow over her aged face. Always at her side was a decanter of brandy, and another of wine. She thought of her daughters, who had both been her favorites for different reasons. Genevieve’s raven hair and dark eyes matched the baron himself, and Sarah’s fair skin and light hair matched the baroness’ own. Even though they had been born fifteen years apart, it seemed as if they had been born into different eras entirely. Genevieve was serious and studious, while Sarah had always been cheerful, even as a child. The baroness could remember sitting on Sarah’s bed late at night, singing nursery rhymes to calm her after a nightmare. Those were some of her favorite memories, and she wished to relive them with her youngest daughter again.

Little did she know that such a wish would be granted in the most peculiar way possible.

One day, when Genevieve was fourteen and Sarah was nine, both girls came down with a fever at the same time. They had already lost their mother to illness several years before; fearing for their lives, the baron rushed out to find the village doctor. His efforts were in vain; corrupted by fear and greed, he fled upon seeing his noble visitors approach. Exhausted from his travels, the baron passed out on his daughters’ bedsides. As dawn approached, he awoke to see two silhouettes standing over him: one tall and slender with raven hair…the other small and round-faced with golden curls. He looked up, and saw two pairs of gray eyes staring back at him: one set filled with sorrow…the other filled with fear.

That day marked the beginning of an era that many would later refer to as ‘The Dark Ages’—when all three of them wore diapers like babies.

As time went on, Genevieve grew into an intelligent young woman who often studied in solitude; Sarah blossomed into a beautiful girl whom all the young men admired from afar; and their father became increasingly doting towards them both—so much so that he began to neglect his duties as lord of the land entirely. Eventually, the neighboring warlords grew tired of seeing their neighbor look after his daughters so well that he neglected his lands entirely; they attacked simultaneously from all sides in an attempted coup de tat against the aging baron. But even as Genevieve rallied her sisters’ servants against them and Sarah helped rally their allies against them (for no man can resist her beauty), they knew there was only one person who could truly lead them to victory: their beloved father.

So they dragged him out of bed in his undergarments; he was too weak to resist anyway—he hadn’t left his room since falling ill seven months ago. When he stumbled into the courtyard foyer on shaky legs next to his plump daughter in pink frills, the invading army gasped in surprise when they saw him emerge from behind her shoulder with bulging eyes wide open for once in his life—it was almost as if he didn’t recognize himself! And when he drew his sword from its scabbard hanging from his waist belt (which was also adorned with four baby bottles) with surprising speed for someone so ill and slashed through two soldiers still gasping at him before anyone else could react…well…let’s just say it wasn’t long before all but a few scattered remnants remained on their lands again.

When all was said and done that day—when both sisters had finally run crying into each other's arms beside their father's body—Sarah turned around to see little Phillipa standing behind them with a wry smile on her face; she had watched everything unfold through a crack in the wall (and though she never admitted it, she'd been hoping something like this would happen after witnessing how indulged those two were). Seeing what she'd seen…and remembering how sickly everyone looked during those times…she couldn't help but let out a cackle that echoed throughout the hallways ever since that day onwards.*