{A/N: Please drop some comments to keep me motivated}
"YES! My lady, keep pushing! The child is almost out!" one of the women yelled, her voice filled with urgency and a touch of fear, knowing what failure could mean for them all.
In a lavish room, far too grand for the typical medieval Scandinavian household, the scent of burning herbs and blood mixed in the air, thick and suffocating.
The space was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls.
Several midwives, the era's equivalent to doctors, circled around a massive bed draped in fine furs.
Their hands were stained with blood, sweat beading down their faces as they worked tirelessly, shouting over the sounds of agony filling the room.
At the center of it all was a striking woman, her black hair plastered to her face, drenched in sweat, while her crimson eyes burned with pain.
Every scream that escaped her lips echoed off the walls, piercing through the hushed whispers of the midwives.
Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the sheets, her nails tearing through the delicate fabric.
The pain wasn't just visible—it radiated from her, thick in the air like the blood that had soaked through the bed.
Her body trembled violently, each contraction threatening to pull her under, but she held on, gasping for breath between pushes.
The midwives weren't just encouraging her anymore. They were begging. "Please, my lady, stay with us.
You can't fall unconscious now," one whispered frantically, glancing nervously at the others.
Blood pooled beneath the bed, soaking into the wooden floor. If she passed out now, the child might not survive—and neither might she.
The woman let out another scream, her voice raw, and one of the midwives flinched, wiping her forehead with a blood-smeared hand as she steadied herself for what was coming next.
With one final, guttural scream, the woman pushed as if her body was on the verge of ripping apart, and then there it was—a sharp cry piercing through the air.
The baby finally slid out, blood-soaked and screaming, but what caught everyone off guard wasn't the crying.
As the midwife lifted the newborn, her hands trembling, the room fell silent for a split second before collective gasps filled the space.
The baby, slick with blood and squirming in the midwife's arms, had its tiny middle finger proudly sticking up, as if it had just popped into the world with zero respect for anything around it.
One of the midwives stifled a laugh, and another just stared, dumbfounded, blinking at the sight.
"Well, that's one way to make an entrance," someone muttered under their breath, trying not to let the tension crack into full-on laughter.
The woman on the bed, panting, barely conscious, opened her eyes for just a moment, catching sight of her newborn flipping the bird to the whole room before exhaustion pulled her under again.
First Person Pov
'Huff… Finally out!' I thought triumphantly as I escaped that damn prison of a womb. Freedom at last, or so I thought. But of course, as soon as I opened my eyes, I was hit with something unexpected, something excruciating.
"Ugh! What the hell is this?" I muttered in my mind, my tiny newborn body forcing me to squint. "Is this what they call light? It's... blinding!"
This stuff called "light" was straight-up painful, burning into my freshly exposed eyes like I'd never known discomfort before.
Pain. My very first experience with pain, and let me tell you, it was not the fun introduction I was hoping for. I mean, I just got here!
Then, I felt these cold hands wrap around me—really cold, like someone dipped them in ice. Soft, sure, but cold enough to make me flinch. When I managed to crack my eyes open just a little, I saw her.
A woman with long black hair, red eyes that almost glowed, and pale skin that made her look like she was carved out of marble.
She was holding me close, her face a mix of exhaustion and tears, like she'd been through hell and back just to bring me into the world.
That's gotta be my mother… I mean, who else would be holding me like that? Seems obvious enough.
"My son... You are finally here," she whispered softly, her voice trembling with relief as she pulled me closer to her face.
She rubbed her cheek against mine, her skin soft and smooth, like the finest silk. Not bad, but still... mine are better.
She looked so overjoyed, and I couldn't help but think, poor woman. She probably has no clue that she was carrying triplets. But only one of us made it out. Yep, I took care of that.
Those two other brats? I chewed them down like a snack before they even had a chance to breathe. No evidence left. Just me, the only survivor.
First Person Pov
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
"My lord, it appears the clan leader's wife has given birth to a son," said a man in a brown robe, his voice dripping with respect. He had brown hair, blue eyes, and a scrawny build, like he'd been living off scraps.
Across from him stood an old man, his long white hair flowing over his shoulders, eyes sharp as knives. He looked to be in his late 50s, with pale skin and a medium build.
His face wasn't anything to write home about, just decent enough. He sat comfortably in a somewhat plain-looking palace, one that felt way too humble for someone of his stature.
Upon hearing the news, the old man didn't react much, just a slight sneer tugging at his lips.
"Well, rats are bound to reproduce," he said coldly, barely glancing at the messenger. "We'll deal with them the old-fashioned way."
The old man, Balner—vice leader of the clan I was just born into—was staring at the sky now, as if he didn't even care about the life that had just been brought into the world.
{A/N: In simpler terms, this old geezer is definitely COURTING DEATH.
And you might have guessed, the MC has a pretty strong background like Goat Changge, but he's more like Goat Yuan—more goal-oriented.
To achieve his goals, he would do anything, no matter how absurd it is, and pretty much kill anyone, regardless of who it is.}