Emily groaned before letting out a scream. Her body was convulsing wildly. Pain, so much pain. She laid in a puddle of what appeared to be blood and some sort of fluid. Annabelle sat up beside her, completely startled at the sight.
It was happening. It was finally happening. She'd been expecting it. Hell, she even had a countdown going. But now that it was happening the dark-haired woman was terrified. In an instant, she was standing in Baptiste's room, startling the old man awake.
"I think the baby is coming." Anxiety clawed at her throat as she spoke. "Where are your things?"
The greying man sleepily motioned his medical bag that lay in the corner of the room. Annabelle grabbed the bag, picked the man up by his nightgown and flittered back to Emily within a few seconds.
The quick movements were enough to shake the sleep right out of Baptiste's eyes. The older man had been surprised to meet the blonde thrashing in the middle of the bed, her screams echoed against the walls of the room.
Emily's silk sleepwear was drenched, but she didn't care. The pain was unbearable. Is this what dying felt like?
The Maester quickly emptied the contents of his bag on the couch the blonde had found comfort in the past few days. He mixed some dried herbs with a colourless liquid, which piqued the interest of the Queen. Annabelle grabbed his wrist, her grip felt almost like a crushing weight.
"What is that? What are you giving her?"
Baptiste raised a brow at her, intrigued at how paranoid the Queen acted. He had never seen her like this, and he'd been around long enough to have been a part of her marriage to the late Victoria.
"It's for the pain." The man snatched his arm away, moving towards the bed.
Annabelle found herself on the other side of the bed, holding the young woman's hand. She should have told her, warned her. As time drew nearer, Anna grew more and more anxious. She sat beside the young woman who clenched her hand as though her life depended on it—and it did. She stared at Emily; pain visible in the blonde's eyes, her hair pasted against her skin from the sweat on her forehead. It was no secret that the Queen had grown increasingly fond of Emily. She recalled the last few months, and how her life has forever changed since meeting the younger woman.
From their very first meeting, to their very first sexual encounter, to her carrying Annabelle's child. It all flashed in the woman's mind as she chided, and softly pet the skin of Emily's hand.
Baptiste fed the mixture to the young woman, which somehow saw her soothed within minutes. There was still pain, she could feel the 'bearing down' sensation she'd heard so much about. Emily's legs opened wider, as if they had a mind of their own and then she felt it. Pressure. So much pressure, it was unreal.
"He's coming!" Baptiste held a towel between the blonde's thighs, bracing for impact.
Emily had no time to feel self-conscious, after all her legs were spread wide open. She just wanted him out. She wanted that baby to get the fuck out.
She inhaled and exhaled deeply, Anna's soothing voice coaching her to take slower breaths. The woman did her best to calm Emily down, but the blonde really didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear anyone's voice, or anyone's instructions. She didn't want to hear shit from anyone who wasn't forcing what felt like a big-headed baby from their privates.
The pushing continued; the screaming intensified. There was a final gush and Baptiste gently tugged on the infant, landing him onto the fresh towel he'd smartly placed ahead of time. Emily appeared weak; her body completely spent. Annabelle stood beside Baptiste as he held their child, wiping the infant mostly clean. Before the Queen could reach out to hold him, she caught a glimpse of Emily's eyes rolling shut.
Panic set in.
"Listen," Baptiste whispered.
Annabelle breathed, listening keenly. It was Emily's heartbeat. She was still alive. It was a weak beat, but it was there. A weight had been lifted from the older woman's shoulders. Her fears had been outlived and Emily survived the birth of her heir.
"Here," the man spoke again. He gently placed the baby into Annabelle's open arms. The dark-haired woman held her breath, unwillingly. The infant couldn't weigh more than seven pounds. He felt light as a feather in her arms. He didn't cry, his lips only pouted with his eyes still closed.
"I'll take care of her." Baptiste motioned to the blonde who was passed out in the bed.
She crossed the room in a few large steps, planting herself on the plush couch. They had never thought of names, and she wouldn't choose one without Emily. So, for now, he would simply be 'my boy'. The baby lay in her arms, eyebrows furrowing, and he struggled to open his eyes. There was a thin tuft of ginger hair on his head, reminding Annabelle so much of her mother's own auburn curls.
She gave a quick glance over at the bed where Baptiste had begun cleaning the younger woman off. He summoned a helper, who joined shortly after. They removed Emily's clothes and wiped her down. The blonde's eyes remained closed as she let out soft murmurs in what appeared to be her sleep.
The queen turned her attention back to the baby in her arms, her eyes widening as she was met with large gray orbs with golden flecks staring at her questioningly.
***
The young boy shrieked, shuddering as a rat scurried across his foot. It was damp, muddy and cold in there.
"Shut that boy up." The vampire sneered.
The older blonde grabbed the boy's hand, pulling him beside her. "Manny what did I say?"
"We're going to surprise Emily?" the young boy finished.
"Right," she smiled. "And it's only a surprise if we're super quiet."
Emanuel nodded, trying to avert his eyes from the filth as they waded through the tunnel. He had more questions. Why couldn't they just knock on the door? Why did it feel like they were doing something they shouldn't be? He knew not to ask those questions; it would only make the bad man angry.
The boy hadn't seen his sister in person in almost a year. They had grown quite close in the months that they thought their mother had passed away. Emily did everything for him. He was almost nervous to see her again. Manny had grown a bit taller since they've last seen each other, he wondered if his older sister would be surprised at him.
"How much further?"
The 'bad man' clutched his forehead. "Lena, please..."
The boy's mother chided him. "Not far now Manny, just keep walking."
The man was pale, even for a vampire. Perhaps it was his deeds. Manny had witnessed him do a lot of bad things in the few months that he's known him. Geoffrey, his mother called him. So, it was a fair assumption that it was indeed the man's name.
"You know what? I could have gotten you both through the front gates if you stuck to the original plan." The annoyance on his tone echoed in tunnel. "But no, you had to interfere with the girl."
"By the girl, are you referring to my daughter?" the older blonde huffed. "Don't get ahead of yourself Geoffrey. We wouldn't have gotten this far without my intervention. This was my plan long before you got involved."
Manny walked silently, eavesdropping between the two.
"And why wouldn't I try to get my daughter on board? She hasn't had much of a say in everything that's happened, I gave her a choice."
"And in doing so, have made things increasingly hard for us Lena." The man quipped.
Another twenty minutes went by, the three walking in complete silence. Until finally, there was literal light at the end of the tunnel. Geoffrey's hair had outgrown his haircut. The man's dark hair now had a middle part, the strands resting against his cheek on either side. He had gone missing for months and Annabelle hadn't even bothered to look for him. He didn't mind it; it spoke a lot about their relationship.
The woman was ruthless and treated him as nothing more than a lackey. He should have been King. Memories of his father announcing that Annabelle would be his heir plagued his mind. He was the only male Heir of the late King Geoffrey. They even shared a name for fuck's sake. But she was the hybrid.
He angrily bent the metal gate blocking their exit, creating a hole big enough for them to pass.
"The child is here." Lena said as they stepped out of the tunnel. "I can feel it, a shift in the atmosphere." That meant they would only have a few hours to seize the throne. Geoffrey knew that the Northern castle would be heavily guarded—just not to what extent. He instructed—more like ordered—the woman to wait in the tunnel for him to retrieve what they needed.
Flashback
The two had met over a century ago, on a night Lena would never forget. The King cracked down on witches, and their family of four sisters remained, Lena being the youngest. She was only fourteen when it happened. At first, when witches were caught, they would be exiled. Then, there was an uprising. The witches returned stronger than ever, causing one of the worst wars Lena had lived through.
She remembered wolves pouncing on her fellow witches, snapping their necks. The vampires strangled them, the drained their blood completely. Brutal deaths that she didn't think they deserved.
Lena and her sisters remained hidden throughout the war. Her older sisters thought of a plan, a way they could escape, move as far from the Capital as possible. Liza, the oldest, had instructed Lena to pack a small bag and get ready to leave once she returned. The younger had no idea at that time that Liza ultimately would not be returning.
Day had transitioned into night, and Liza was still nowhere to be seen. Alana and Alaine, twins, and both older by ten years, were pacing the room.
"She's taking too long." Alaine's brows were furrowed. Then, there was a light that moved towards them. Firelight. "Lena, hide." She whisper-shouted. "Don't come out until it's clear."
Alana grabbed the younger blonde, shoving her into the storage box in the bedroom. "Don't move," The woman was afraid they had been found out.
As if on cue, the door was broken in. Four bulky men, fully clothed in armour stood inside. Lena peered through the small crevice of the wooden box.
"Is this where you witches have been hiding?" A gruff voice spoke. "Well peek-a-boo, we've found you."
Before her sisters could react, the men grabbed them both. "Somehow, I think the older sister is much more attractive." Another spoke. The women had been silenced by a ball of cloth shoved into their mouths. Their screams couldn't be heard, just muffled cries. Alana's eyes met with the box for a moment, nodding.
Lena knew it meant that she should stay put. Although the younger blonde wanted nothing more than to run out, kicking and screaming, she sat in the box, tears streaming down her face as they dragged her sisters from the house.
Once the quiet set in, the young woman roughly wiped the tears from her eyes before climbing out of the wooden bedside storage. She scurried to the doorway where the door hung loosely on it's hinges after being bashed in. Lena heard their voices still in the distance and decided she would follow them.
The guards drag her sisters behind them, the women fighting the entire way through the streets of the capital. Lena hadn't been far behind. A crowd had formed ahead of them, surrounding what looked like a huge fire-pit. Her heart skipped beats as the men part through the crowd, dropping her sisters onto the platform. Liza was already tied up, almost appearing as though she'd been nailed to a cross.
Annabelle stood from the Queen's chair, silencing the crowd. She had been coronated after the war, as the King was left paralysed. The people were sceptical, but no one dared to question King Geoffrey's choice in heir. It appeared that Annabelle would take his tradition of exiling the witches one step further. Burning them alive.
"These women have been hidden among us. Enemies in disguise." Annabelle spoke with a pained voice. The woman threw a look the King's way, who nodded approvingly.
The three sisters now tied to stakes, faces moist from their tears. Lena shuffled closer, hiding behind a rubbish bin only a few feet away from the scene. She felt powerless, fear gnawed at her innards, laughing at her, taunting her.
She should have paid more attention when they taught her spells, maybe—just maybe, it would have made a difference.
"Light the pit." Annabelle's voice was unwavering—Lena heard the words loud and clear. She heard the Queen sentence her sisters to death. Everyone cheered, chanted praises as the guards lit fire below the women.
"The witches have caused disruption, created chaos in our city!" she sounded more confident with each word. "They killed my mother—your queen and paralysed our King!"
"The capital shall remain free of the spell-casters, by will or by force."
Annabelle wore a black, long sleeved, Victorian gown. Fitting for the occasion. Her dark hair pinned in an up-do with curls at the ends. The image forever etched in Lena's mind as the Queen uttered the words that she would live to rue. "Burn them."
The blonde's hand flew to her lips, stopping herself from screaming. It was horrific. Their screams echoed through the crowd, travelling through the streets. Lena could no longer stand it, the sound, the smell.
She ran down the alley, sobbing as quietly as she could. Hatred burned a hole through her heart. The King, Annabelle, they would all feel her wrath. Lena made up her mind, she would flee the capital, hone her skills and be stronger than her sisters ever were.
Bang!
The young woman yelped, startled.
Then she heard it again, repetitive, louder each time.
"That fucking bitch!" the man muttered, kicking a rubbish bin with so much force that it dented. "It should be me up there. Me giving orders, me on the throne." He growled.
His eyes were wild, bloodshot even. His dark hair was cut short, and he was dressed...expensive. His grey eyes met Lena's, and he flittered over to her, wrapping his cold hands around her throat.
"Are you spying on me little girl?" the man sneered.
"I—"
"What? Speak up!"
Recognition hit her like a ton of bricks; it was the Queen's brother, Geoffrey. There was only one way she would come out of this alive, he was probably the worst of the lot.
"I can help you." Her voice only above a whisper. "She burned my sisters, the only family I had left. They were innocent!" Tears fell freely now.
He raised a brow at her. "You're a witch?" his grip loosened on the young woman's neck, hands dropping at his sides.
"No," she smoothed her tattered dress. "I'm the witch that's going to kill your sister."