Birth

Queen Seraphine lay in the grand canopy bed, her body propped up against a sea of satin pillows, her frame wrapped in delicate silks that fell in folds around her. Soft moonlight spilled through the tall, arched windows, casting a gentle glow over the chamber, while flickering candles added warmth, illuminating the delicate sheen of sweat still glistening on her pale skin. The lingering ache from the recent birth had softened, replaced by a rare peace in her gaze.

The room bustled quietly around her; maids moved with whispered steps, cleaning away the remnants of the delivery. One gathered the discarded linens, while another carefully mopped up any trace of blood from the polished floor. Others leaned over her bed, their hands gentle as they adjusted the blankets around her and the newborns, each action steeped in reverence.

Beside her stood Martha, a loyal, calming presence in her rich purple robe, her gray-streaked hair gathered in a neat braid that fell over her shoulder. She watched the queen with an intensity that spoke of unspoken concerns but held back, giving Seraphine the space she so rarely allowed herself.

Seraphine's gaze was fixed on the two tiny, identical faces nestled in her arms. Each baby lay in a soft wrap of white, their breaths coming in soft, barely-there sounds as they shifted against her. Both had framing faces so small, so perfect that even she—a woman known for her ruthlessness—could feel the stirrings of gentleness, a softness that melted her gaze. Her silver-gray eyes, usually cold as frost, now shone with a rare warmth, the look almost celestial, as if an angel's radiance had found its way through her icy facade.

One of the babies stirred, a tiny hand stretching, fingers brushing her chest, and she let her own fingers trace the delicate curve of his cheek. For this fleeting moment, she allowed herself to simply feel, her heart swelling with a love she had never imagined, a fierce, protective tenderness that even she couldn't deny.

Martha's voice came softly, reverently, as if hesitant to break the spell. "My Queen, they are beautiful."

Seraphine's gaze didn't waver, her eyes still locked on her children. "Yes," she murmured, her voice low and warm, her face softening in a way that would leave anyone watching awestruck.

Seraphine's gaze didn't waver as she looked at her newborns, her silver-gray eyes softened, yet tinged with a sorrow that crept through the warmth. She swallowed, and her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. "But for one to live… the other must disappear." Her words caught in her throat, a crack breaking through her usual composure.

Martha stood silently, head bowed, a tension in her posture that only deepened with the Queen's words. Seraphine gestured faintly towards the maids clustered around the room, her tone colder now. "Martha," she said, authority seeping back into her voice, "have them removed. All of them. And see to it… that they're taken care of." Her tone left no room for doubt as she spoke of their fates.

Martha's face tightened, but she nodded. With a single glance, she dismissed the maids, who filed out of the room one by one, sensing the gravity in the Queen's voice. When the last maid had disappeared, Martha turned back, her expression grave. "Which child will you keep, Your Majesty?" Her voice was steady, but there was a softness there, an acknowledgment of the impossible choice Seraphine faced.

Queen Seraphine's voice, however, was steel. "Both will live." She said it firmly, defying the expectation Martha had placed in the question. Her fingers brushed against the tiny heads nestled close to her, one tufted with a dusting of golden hair, the other with a deeper, inky black. "No choice needs to be made."

Martha looked up, surprise flashing briefly in her eyes. "But, Your Majesty," she hesitated, her voice lowering to barely a murmur, "the Voldigoald family… If the King and his family find out—" She stopped herself, but Seraphine gestured for her to continue.

"They believe twins to be a taboo, a stain on the purity of royal blood," Martha said, unable to keep the worry from her voice. "They'll kill both of them if they learn of their existence."

Seraphine's face darkened, and she looked down at the infants in her arms with renewed resolve. "They won't know," she said firmly, her tone allowing no room for doubt. "One of them will be raised here in the palace, under my protection, as my heir." She took a deep breath, glancing at the blonde-haired infant who gurgled softly in his sleep. "This one will stay with me, to inherit the throne."

Martha's gaze moved to the other baby, whose eyes had just opened, dark and piercing even as a newborn's. "And the other?"

Seraphine stroked the raven-haired baby's head with a gentleness that spoke of the love she was trying to hide. "He will be hidden, taken far from here… with a family who can protect him, far from the reach of Voldigoald." Her eyes flashed with intensity as she met Martha's gaze. "But he will live, Martha. Both of them will live."

Martha nodded slowly, her loyalty clear as she leaned in closer. "I will find a family, one we can trust, who will raise him well. The child will be safe."

Seraphine allowed a faint smile to cross her lips, a rare display of gratitude. "Good. This boy—" she gestured to the raven-haired infant, "shall be called Caelan. His name will be hidden, but he will live as my blood."

"And the child you'll keep here?" Martha asked softly, looking down at the blonde child who lay nestled against the Queen's arm.

"Lucien," Seraphine murmured. "He shall be Lucien. My heir, my son."

Martha took a steady breath, the weight of the task heavy on her shoulders. "I will do as you command, Your Majesty. Caelan will be hidden from all eyes. He will be kept safe."

Seraphine's hand reached up to cup Martha's shoulder, a rare gesture of trust and gratitude. "Thank you, Martha. No one can ever know of this. The Voldigoald family will hunt him to the ends of the earth if they suspect twins were born of our bloodline."

Martha bowed her head. "I swear it on my life, Your Majesty. Your son, Caelan, will live in safety, and none shall ever learn of the truth."

Seraphine allowed herself one last look at both boys, her heart aching with the price of her decision. She held them close, as if trying to imprint their faces upon her soul, before finally, reluctantly, allowing Martha to take Caelan from her arms.

"Take him now, before dawn breaks," Seraphine whispered, her voice soft but firm. "Let him grow free from the shadow of the crown, and know that he is loved, though from afar."

As Martha left the room, carrying the infant Caelan close to her, Seraphine leaned back against the pillows, her heart torn but resolute. She had saved them both. And for that, she knew she'd face any wrath, even that of the King himself.

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