Artemisia woke up hours later, her head splitting like a ruptured drum. She groaned, her eyes fluttering open slowly. Her vision was hazy, and everything around her seemed to spin. She reached out, feeling the cool sheets against her sweaty skin, and realized she was alone in her chamber.
"What... what happened to me?" she asked, her voice barely more than a croak.
The door opened, and a servant entered, carrying a tray with some water and light food. "My Queen, you were unwell during training," the servant said, setting down the tray beside her. "And, you're carrying a child."
Her eyes widened in shock, and she sat up quickly, her stomach churning in protest. "I-I... What?" she managed to choke out, her hands going to her abdomen.
"It's true, my Queen," the servant confirmed, his expression neutral.
Artemisia's expression turned cold, her eyes cold and calculating. "So, the plan worked then," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Good. Now, leave me alone."
The servant bowed and retreated, closing the door behind him. Artemisia remained alone in her chamber, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. On one hand, she had accomplished her goal of getting pregnant and ensuring an heir to the throne. On the other hand, she hadn't planned on getting pregnant in one shot.
She sighed heavily, her body aching. She knew she had to prepare herself mentally and physically for what lay ahead.
Over the next nine months, Artemisia focused on her duties as Queen, ensuring the kingdom ran smoothly while tending to her growing belly. Despite her condition, she continued to oversee training sessions, sitting on her throne, her belly growing visibly larger with each passing day.
During this time, she found solace in the company of her closest confidante, a priestess named Ariana, who guided her through her pregnancy, providing herbal remedies and sage advice. They would often meet secretly in her chambers, discussing everything from the state of the kingdom to the challenges of motherhood.
As the months passed, her body changed dramatically, and she began to show more prominently. Her breasts grew larger, and her belly swelled, causing her abdominal muscles to stretch. Despite her best efforts to conceal her pregnancy, rumors started to circulate among the court, and whispers followed her everywhere she went.
Still, Artemisia maintained her composure, never letting on that she knew about her impending motherhood. Instead, she focused on strengthening her army, preparing them for potential threats to her rule.
It was a moonless night when Artemisia's contractions intensified, signaling the beginning of labor. Her attendants rushed to her side, helping her into the birthing chamber. Artemisia found herself restless and anxious, her hands rubbing her swollen belly, her eyes on the verge of panic. The pain was intense, radiating from her abdomen, growing stronger with each passing moment.
Ariana, the priestess, had prepared a birthing chamber in the palace, a room filled with candles and herbs, designed to make the birthing process as comfortable as possible. Artemisia was grateful for her guidance, but the pain was unbearable.
"This... this can't be right," she murmured, her voice hoarse with fear. "It... it hurts so much."
Ariana appeared at her side, her expression grave. "It's normal, My Queen," she said, her voice steady. "The pain will pass, and you'll have a healthy baby."
Artemisia nodded, her body shivering from the intensity of the contractions. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. "I hope so," she muttered, her voice barely audible.
Under Ariana's guidance, Artemisia gave birth in the birthing chamber, her body writhing in pain and ecstasy. Her screams echoed through the halls, her cries for relief drowning out everything else.
The birthing process was grueling, Artemisia's body twisting and turning with each contraction. Sweat poured down her face, her hands gripping Ariana's, her knuckles turning white.
"Breathe, my Queen," Ariana urged, her voice soothing. "It won't be long now."
Artemisia gritted her teeth, her breaths shallow and rapid. "It hurts... so much," she whimpered, her voice filled with pain.
Her body shuddered with each contraction, her legs parting, revealing her swollen, red entrance. Ariana remained by her side, coaching her through each agonizing moment, her hands guiding Artemisia's body into position.
Finally, after what felt like eternity, there was a sudden, earth-shattering roar, and Artemisia's body convulsed violently. Her eyes widened in shock and relief as she felt the warmth of new life trickling between her legs.
"It's over," Ariana's voice cut through the haze of pain, her face flushed with exhaustion. "You've done it, My Queen."
Artemisia's entire body shook with relief and exhaustion, and she collapsed, her body covered in sweat and blood. Her gaze drifted towards the bloodied mat beneath her, and she saw the tiny, wrinkled form of her newborn child.
Artemisia lay there, panting, her body slick with sweat and blood. Her eyes were filled with a mix of relief and exhaustion. "It's... over," she murmured, her voice hoarse.
As Artemisia lay on the blood-stained sheets, her body still shaking with exhaustion, her husband entered the birthing chamber. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of his wife, covered in sweat and blood, her body battered from childbirth.
She glared at him, her eyes filled with hatred and revulsion. "You... you came," she spat, her voice barely able to form words.
"My Queen, I heard your screams," he said, his voice trembling with concern. "Is everything alright?"
She ignored his question, instead focusing on the newborn boy in her arms. "He's a boy," she muttered, her voice flat. "Name him Pisindelis."
He approached cautiously, his eyes lingering on the blood-stained sheets and his wife's battered body. "Congratulations, my love," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "You did it. You've given this kingdom a son."
Artemisia didn't reply, her attention solely focused on her newborn son. She handed him over to a servant, who cleaned him up and placed him in a crib nearby.
"Leave me," she commanded, her voice cold and distant. "I need some rest."
The room fell silent except for the sounds of the baby's soft cries and her heavy breathing. Artemisia's mind raced with a mix of relief and dread. She had successfully birthed a male heir, securing her control over the kingdom.
As the hours passed, exhaustion finally caught up with her, and she drifted off to fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares of her past indiscretions.