Luna's POV
***
Pain.
It started as a dull ache in my lower back, an unsettling pressure that refused to ease no matter how I shifted. At first, I ignored it. I had felt discomfort before—tightness in my abdomen, sharp pangs when the baby moved too suddenly—but this was different. Heavier.
Then the pain sharpened, slicing through me in waves that stole my breath.
I gripped the edge of the bed, my nails digging into the soft fabric as another contraction rolled through me. A gasp slipped past my lips.
"Luna?"
The voice was familiar, rough with concern. I barely had time to register Rhydian before the pain struck again, pulling a strangled cry from my throat.
In an instant, he was at my side.
"What is it?" His hand cupped my cheek, his golden eyes dark with worry. "Luna, talk to me."
I swallowed, fighting for composure. "I… I think it's time."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us. Then, chaos erupted.
Rhydian surged to his feet, his voice ringing through the chamber as he called for the healers. Footsteps pounded against the stone floors, distant shouts filling the halls. I barely registered any of it.
Another contraction tore through me, this one more intense than the last. My body curled in on itself, instinctively seeking relief.
Breathe.
I forced myself to inhale, to exhale, to focus on anything other than the searing pain spreading through me.
By the time the midwife arrived, Rhydian was pacing like a caged animal, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He looked like he was ready to tear through anyone who dared suggest he leave the room.
"Your Majesty," the midwife said calmly, placing a hand on his arm. "You need to be strong for her."
Rhydian's jaw tightened. His gaze flicked back to me, his expression torn between fear and helplessness. Then, as if making a silent vow, he moved to kneel beside me, his fingers lacing through mine.
"I'm here," he murmured.
I squeezed his hand. "You better be."
Hours Passed in a Blur
Time lost meaning as the contractions worsened, each one stealing another piece of my strength. Sweat clung to my skin, dampening my hair. My breathing turned ragged. I was dimly aware of the midwives speaking in hushed tones, of Rhydian's constant presence at my side.
But the pain—it was relentless, unyielding.
At some point, I cried out, my body arching off the bed as another wave hit. My grip on Rhydian tightened, nails biting into his skin.
"Luna," he breathed, his voice strained. "You're doing so well."
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. "I can't—"
"Yes, you can," he interrupted, pressing his forehead against mine. "You are the strongest person I know. You can do this."
His words anchored me. I clung to them, to him, to the desperate desire to see our child.
A sudden pressure built inside me, overwhelming, urgent. I gasped. "Rhydian—"
The midwife's voice cut through the haze. "It's time. You need to push, Your Majesty."
I barely had time to process the command before my body obeyed.
Pain unlike anything I had ever known tore through me. I screamed, my entire world narrowing to the burning, unbearable effort of bringing our child into the world.
"Again!"
I wanted to stop. I wanted to collapse, to let the darkness pulling at the edges of my mind take me. But then I felt him—Rhydian's hand against my cheek, his lips at my temple, his voice whispering over and over, "Just a little more, my love."
So I pushed.
One final, excruciating push—
And then—
A cry.
Thin, reedy, but unmistakably real.
A sob broke from my throat. My body sagged against the pillows, utterly spent. But none of it mattered. Because at that moment, I heard our child's first breath, the sound of new life filling the air.
Through the haze of exhaustion, I saw the midwife wrap a tiny, wriggling form in a soft cloth.
"A daughter," she murmured, her voice filled with reverence. "A beautiful, healthy daughter."
A daughter.
Tears spilled freely down my cheeks. I reached out, my hands trembling. "Let me—"
The midwife placed the tiny bundle in my arms. And suddenly, nothing else existed.
Dark hair, damp with birth, peeked out from the blanket. Tiny fingers curled into delicate fists. And those eyes—barely open, but already filled with something that stole the breath from my lungs.
Love.
Overwhelming, all-consuming love.
I choked back a sob. "She's perfect."
Then I felt him.
Rhydian was beside me, his hands hovering as if he didn't dare believe she was real. His breath was unsteady, his eyes impossibly bright. Slowly, as if afraid he might break, he reached out, his fingertips ghosting over her impossibly small hand.
And then she moved—just a twitch, a reflex—but it was enough. Rhydian let out a shaky laugh, his shoulders trembling.
"Luna," he whispered, awe-struck. "She's…" He trailed off, shaking his head.
I understood. There were no words for this. For the way our hearts had just been rewritten in an instant.
Rhydian swallowed hard. Then, with infinite gentleness, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to our daughter's forehead.
And in that moment, under the glow of candlelight, with the scent of lavender and new life in the air, I knew.
This was everything.
This was the beginning of forever.