Decreash Imperial Palace
Tamina's chamber lay in half-darkness, the last embers in the hearth breathing a faint red glow. Curtains swayed softly in the night breeze, carrying with it the scent of rain on stone. Upon the vast canopied bed, the queen shifted, restless. Sleep would not hold her.
Her throat ached with thirst. She stirred, heavy with weariness, and reached for the silver jar resting on the small table at her side. Her fingers traced its cool surface before she lifted it. Empty. Not a drop.
For a long moment she sat still, staring at the vessel in her hand, her brow creased with quiet displeasure.
The handmaid had failed her again. She let out a slow, measured breath, then set the jar down with care.
"Celin!
She called out to her handmaid tiredly, but it was pointless; they are out of reach.
The dryness in her mouth only grew sharper, and at last she swung her legs from the bed. The chamber floor was cold beneath her slippers, the air colder still against the thin silk of her nightdress.
She fastened the ropes of her night robe. Her steps were deliberate, unhurried.
She stepped out of her chamber into the hallways; in front of the door, a guard was seated on the floor asleep.
Tamina sighed; she walked past the guards, and the corridors stretched before her, hushed and echoing, lined with shadowed statues.
At the head of the grand staircase she paused, one hand resting lightly upon the railing.The vast hall below yawned in silence, the torches guttering low, their flames thin and wavering. She began to descend slowly, the fabric of her robe gliding against the steps.
Halfway down the staircase, she slowed down her pace.
She snapped her head backwards, her eyes darting around as if in search of someone.
She felt the presence of someone lurking around the corners; her eyes roamed around, and then she slowly turned around.
She raised her leg to go down the step when suddenly a force pushed her from behind…
"Ahhhgh!!
A scream pierced the air; her feet missed two steps, she lost her balance and fell with a thud, first on her belly, before rolling down the stairs, her forehead hitting the sharp edges of the staircase.
Tamina lets out a loud cry, a sudden tightening in her belly, faint but undeniable.
She drew in a sharp breath, her fingers curling around her dress; the dress was now soaked…with blood!
At that moment, hurried steps could be heard making their way in her direction. In a split second, she was surrounded by three guards.
The guards were greatly alarmed, fear gripping their hearts. One of the guards crouched down and carried Tamina in his hand, bridal style, sweeping Tamina off her feet.
A sharp, searing pain ripped through her belly, so sudden and violent that her knees buckled.
She clutched her dress with a gasp, her red hair tilting as her head bowed under the weight of the contraction. The echo of her ragged breath filled the vast, silent hall.
Another wave followed, stronger, merciless. Her free hand pressed instinctively against her swollen belly.
"Fetch the midwives!" cried one of the guards at the base of the staircase, his voice booming through the corridors as he rushed forward.
Servants stirred like startled birds, feet pounding on marble as they scattered, running around the palace.
Tamina was quickly taken to her room and laid on her bed. Celin, her personal maid, was now beside her, filled with empathy and regret.
The palace, once wrapped in midnight silence, awoke in chaos around her. Three midwives rushed in, all dressed in plain white gowns, with a white scarf tied over their heads.
Tamina gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain upright though her body trembled.
One of the midwives, middle-aged, started checking Tamina's pulse. She ran her hand along the side of Tamina's stomach; her eyes widened as she turned to gaze at the other midwives.
"The baby is coming!
The palace, once wrapped in midnight silence, awoke in chaos around her. Ragaleon was asleep peacefully in his chamber when the news got to him.
The tiredness in his eyes disappeared; he rose to his feet and dressed appropriately before stepping out.
Tamina was now gasping for breath; another pain struck, deeper, stronger—her hand flew to the carved bedpost for support. The realization came swiftly, stealing the last remnants of calm from her face. It was time.
"She is bleeding! Why is she bleeding?! One of the midwives panicked.
Tamina trembled as the contractions gripped her, beads of sweat already gathering on her brow despite the cool night air.
The chamber filled with hurried footsteps, hushed voices, and the metallic clatter of basins being prepared for the labor by the maids.
The first true scream tore from her throat, long and fierce, echoing through the chamber's vaulted ceiling.
Her body glistened with sweat, damp tendrils of hair clinging to her temples as the pain came in relentless waves. Each contraction bent her against the pillows, her hands twisting in the linen, her breath ragged and broken.
"Get it out of me! Tamina cried; her eyes were shut tightly; the pain was almost unbearable.
"Push, my lady, push! The midwives urged
"The child is coming!" cried the eldest midwife, her sleeves already darkened with effort.
Ragaleon's footsteps thundered in the hall beyond, his voice muffled as guards tried to restrain him from storming the birthing chamber. The chamber door was shut, and the curtains closed.
Tamina screamed again, a sound raw enough to rattle the windows. Her body shook, her skin slick with sweat that gleamed under the candlelight.
She bore down, every muscle straining; every ounce of her was fixed on the moment.
The chamber was filled with the rhythm of labor—her cries, the urging voices of the women, and the steady murmur of prayer.
Her hands clutched at the sheets, twisting them until her knuckles whitened. Her back arched with each contraction, her body trembling.
Rivulets of sweat trickled down her face, sliding down her throat, soaking the linen beneath her.
The midwives hovered close, their voices steady, though their eyes betrayed fear.
"Breathe, my lady. Breathe. Push when it comes. Hold fast."
They urged. One of them dabbed her brow with a cool cloth; another held her wrist firmly, counting the rhythm of her pulse.
"Get it out of me! Ahhhgh!
Another wave would seize her, fiercer than the last, and her scream would break loose again, raw and terrible. Her throat grew hoarse, yet still the sound came, an endless cry of agony and defiance.
Her body gleamed in the candlelight, every muscle taut, her hair plastered to her face.
Seconds rolled into minutes, and minutes into hours.
Tamina's body strained, her voice hoarse from hours of cries. Her chest heaved, her breath shallow and ragged, as though each inhalation might be her last. The midwives circled close, their faces lit by trembling candlelight.
"It is time, my lady," the eldest urged, her hands steady though her eyes were sharp with urgency.
"One more—give me all you have. Push!"
Tamina refused to push; she was tired. More than anything, she was afraid. Afraid that she might not make it out alive.
"Don't give up now, my queen. You are almost there; the head of the baby has surfaced." The second midwife said, and that was all Tamina needed to hear.
She gathered the remnants of her strength. She gritted her teeth, a growl tearing from her throat before breaking into another scream. Her entire body bowed with the effort, every muscle taut, her fists clenching so tight the nails bit her palms.
The midwife leaned forward, guiding and urging.
"Yes, now, my lady, again! Do not falter!"
Tamina cried out, louder than before, her voice raw, as she gave herself over to the force that consumed her.
The baby came out, sliding into the waiting arms of the midwife.
The chamber held its breath.
"It's a boy! The midwives announced, and the chamber broke into a state of euphoria, but it was only for a fleeting moment.
The midwife lifted the small, slick bundle, her hands practiced but her brow furrowed. The child lay still.
Tamina, trembling and drenched in sweat, lifted her head weakly from the pillow, eyes wide and desperate.
"Why do I not hear him cry?" She whispered, her voice breaking.
The sheets beneath her were stained dark, a mingling of fluid and blood.
The midwife, cradling the newborn, froze. Her face, composed only moments ago, began to falter. Fear crept into her eyes, replacing the practiced calm etched on her face.
Even with the blur of sweat stinging her eyes and the haze of exhaustion. Tamina noticed the midwife lost composure, and her heart clenched.
"Give him to me," she whispered, her trembling hand lifted from the sheets, slick with sweat.
"Pass him to me."
The midwife hesitated, glancing at her assistants. None moved. The silence grew unbearable, broken only by the Tamina's unsteady breaths.
"Do not keep him from me!"
Tamina cried out, summoning a raw strength from her exhaustion. Her whole body trembled, but her hand stayed raised, commanding, pleading.
"He is mine. My son, put him in my arms."
The midwife, her lips pressed tight, moved slowly, fear still etched on her face. At last, she lowered the baby, who was bundled in silk linen, into
Tamina's arm.
Tamina allowed her eyes to peer at the baby…her baby.
She gazed at him with admiration but then noticed something.
The child…he is not breathing!