SERAPHINA
The contractions started three hours ago.
I’ve been hiding in these chambers since my belly started to show, living behind the lie that I’m too traumatized from my time in the North to face the court. Father announced it with such conviction that no one dared question him.
They have no idea what I’ve really been hiding.
I’m pacing between the bed and the window while Old Mara prepares her supplies. Elena holds my hand through each wave of pain, her grip steady even when mine threatens to crush her fingers.
“You’re doing wonderfully, Princess,” Mara says in her cracked, ancient voice. She’s been my secret keeper throughout this pregnancy, the only healer allowed near me. “The pup is eager to meet you.”
Another contraction rips through me, and I double over with a gasp. Luna surges forward, lending me her strength, and I feel my wolf’s fierce protectiveness flooding through our connection.
“Our pup,” she whispers. “Almost here. Stay strong.”
Her voice is stronger now than it’s been since the rejection. She started speaking again around month four, the moment she felt the pup move inside me. Her maternal instinct overpowered even the devastation of our severed bond.
“I am strong,” I grit out through clenched teeth.
My body has changed so much. The pregnancy scent Mara warned me about manifested around twelve weeks, but Father had healers spread word that I was being treated with strong herbs that altered my natural scent. No one questioned it.
Another contraction hits, stronger this time, and I cry out despite trying to stay quiet. The windows are spelled for silence, but I still worry someone will hear.
“You need to get in the bed now,” Mara says firmly. “The pup is coming.”
Elena helps me onto the bed, and I grip the sheets as another wave crashes over me. The pain is unlike anything I’ve experienced, even worse than the bond rejection. This is my body tearing itself apart to bring new life into the world.
“I can’t do this,” I gasp between contractions. “It’s too much, I—”
“You can and you will.” Mother appears beside the bed, taking my other hand. Her eyes are fierce with the same strength I’ve seen her show in court. “You are a princess of the Eastern Kingdom, Seraphina. You will survive this.”
The labor continues for what feels like hours. Time blurs into a haze of pain and pushing, of Mara’s steady instructions and Elena’s encouraging whispers. Luna paces frantically in my mind, desperate to help but unable to do anything except lend me her strength.
“One more push,” Mara says. “I can see the head. One more, Princess.”
I bear down with everything I have left, screaming as my body splits open. Then suddenly, the pressure releases, and I hear it.
A baby’s cry.
“It’s a boy,” Mara announces, tears streaming down her weathered face as she holds up the tiny, squirming infant. “A beautiful, healthy boy.”
Mother makes a choked sound beside me as Mara quickly cleans the baby and wraps him in soft cloth. Then she’s placing him in my arms, and I’m staring down at the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.
He has a thick head of dark hair, still damp from birth. His skin is pale, almost luminescent in the candlelight. But it’s his eyes that make my breath catch.
Ice-blue eyes. Kieran’s eyes.
The phantom pain of the rejection flares in my chest, sharp and sudden. Even newborn and unfocused, they’re unmistakably his father’s—that same piercing blue that haunted my dreams throughout the entire pregnancy.
“Oh,” I breathe, touching his tiny cheek with trembling fingers. “Hello, little one.”
He turns toward my touch, his rosebud mouth opening and closing. Luna surges forward with overwhelming maternal instinct, and I feel her fierce love mixing with my own, drowning out the ache of the severed bond.
“Our pup,” she whispers, awe in her voice. “Perfect. Ours.”
“He looks just like him,” Elena says softly, worry threading through her words.
She’s right. Anyone with eyes will know who this child’s father is the moment they see him.
“What will you name him?” Mother asks.
I stare down at my son, at this tiny miracle created with a man who despises me. A child born from one night of desperate passion, from a bond that was marked and then shattered.
“Azriel,” I say quietly. “His name is Azriel.”
“Help of God,” Mother repeats. “A strong name.”
“He’ll need to be strong.” I press a kiss to his forehead. “With the blood he carries, he’ll need all the strength he can get.”
Elena helps me with the feeding, and when Azriel latches on, his tiny hand grips my finger with surprising strength. Something in my chest cracks wide open.
I’ve spent months terrified of this moment. Would I see Kieran and feel only pain? Would I resent this innocent child?
But looking down at Azriel now, I feel only overwhelming love. He’s mine. Regardless of who his father is or how he came to be, he’s mine to protect.
“He’s perfect,” I whisper. “Absolutely perfect.”
Mara finishes her work as Father slips into the room. He stops when he sees the baby in my arms, his expression carefully controlled. Then he moves closer, and his face softens.
“May I?” he asks quietly.
I pass Azriel to him, and Father cradles the baby with practiced ease.
“He has your chin,” Father says. “And your mother’s nose.” His jaw tightens. “But his father’s eyes. Anyone who sees him will know. One look and they’ll recognize Northern blood.”
“I know.” My voice comes out stronger than I feel. “But he’s still my son. Our family. And I won’t let anyone hurt him because of who his father is.”
“No one will hurt him,” Mother says fiercely.
Father carefully hands Azriel back to me. “For now, he stays hidden. Just like the pregnancy. No one can know about him until we figure out how to handle this.”
“How long can we keep a baby secret?” Elena asks. “Babies cry. They need things. People will notice eventually.”
“We’ll say he’s a foundling,” Mother says. “A child left at the palace gates that Seraphina has taken under her protection. It’s not uncommon for nobility to adopt orphans.”
“And when he grows up looking exactly like the Ice King?” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice.
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Father says firmly. “Right now, we focus on keeping you both alive and safe.”
Azriel falls asleep in my arms, and I trace his features with my finger, memorizing every detail.
“I love you,” I whisper to him. “No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says, I love you. You’re mine, and I will always protect you.”
Luna echoes the sentiment in my mind. “Our pup. Forever ours.”
As the night deepens and everyone leaves me alone with my son, I hold him close and let the tears come. Not from pain or fear, but from overwhelming love.
“Your father doesn’t know you exist,” I whisper to my sleeping son. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever tell him. But you need to know something, Azriel. You are wanted. You are loved. And you will never, ever have to doubt that.”
