ULF
"Two weeks." Orwyle's voice was grim. "Maybe less."
We stood in his study, surrounded by medical texts and brewing potions. Helaena rested in her chambers—exhausted from another sleepless night, another round of prophetic dreams that left her shaking.
"She said the blood moon."
"The eclipse is in twelve days, yes. If her visions are accurate—and they usually are—the child will come then." He set down his instruments. "The timing is tight. Her withdrawal from court must seem natural. The birth must remain completely secret. And her recovery must be fast enough to return to public life before suspicion grows."
"What do we need?"
"A secure location. Medical supplies. A midwife I can trust absolutely. And contingencies for everything that might go wrong."
Always contingencies. Always planning for disaster.
"I have a location in mind. And I know who can serve as midwife."
"Who?"
"A woman named Marra. She delivered half the children in Flea Bottom for twenty years. Discreet. Skilled. Owes me her granddaughter's life—I saved the girl from a fire three years ago."
"Can she be trusted with a secret this dangerous?"
"She can be trusted not to betray me. That's enough."
Orwyle nodded slowly.
"Then we begin preparations immediately. The queen's health is... precarious. The pregnancy has been hard on her. Whatever happens, it needs to happen soon."
Soon. Always too soon.
"I'll make the arrangements."
THE COVER STORY
Helaena's announcement came two days later.
She appeared before the Small Council in deepest mourning blacks—voluminous robes that hid her pregnancy, pale face that conveyed grief better than any words.
"I must withdraw from public duties."
Otto started to speak. She raised her hand.
"My husband is dead. My brother-in-law is dead. The realm is at war, and I have been too present, too active, too... visible." Her voice carried the practiced rhythm of rehearsed words. "A widow should mourn properly. I will enter seclusion for one month—seeing no one except my servants and my confessor."
"Your Grace, the realm needs—"
"The realm needs stability. The Lord Protector will provide it." She gestured at me. "Ulf has my full authority during my absence. He speaks with my voice in all matters."
Full authority. The words I needed to hear.
"The children?" Criston Cole asked. "Young Jaehaerys is still king. He cannot simply disappear."
"He won't. His Grace will continue his duties with the council's guidance. I merely... step back." Helaena's eyes found mine briefly. "The Lord Protector will ensure smooth governance."
The council exchanged glances. None of them believed this was purely about mourning—they could sense something else beneath the surface.
But none of them could identify what.
"Very well, Your Grace." Otto's voice was careful. "We respect your need for solitude. The realm prays for your recovery."
"Thank you, Lord Hand."
She rose. Left.
I followed a moment later.
In the hallway, she stumbled—exhaustion overwhelming her suddenly. I caught her before she fell.
"Helaena—"
"I'm fine. Just... tired." She leaned against me. "Did it work?"
"They believed you. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Otto suspects something. He always does. But he can't prove anything, and he won't challenge me directly." I helped her toward our chambers. "The cover story will hold."
"For how long?"
"Long enough. That's all we need."
THE SECRET CHAMBER
The passages beneath the Red Keep had been my first project when I arrived in this world.
Years ago—it felt like decades now—I'd mapped every tunnel, every hidden door, every forgotten route. I'd sealed some. Expanded others. Created a network of escape routes that no one else knew existed.
One of those routes led to a chamber I'd never intended to use.
It was small but secure—thirty feet underground, accessible only through a passage that started in my quarters and wound through solid rock. I'd reinforced the walls, installed ventilation shafts disguised as cracks in the stonework, and created emergency exits leading to three different parts of the city.
Now I converted it into a birthing room.
Fresh water piped in from a hidden cistern. Medical supplies stockpiled over weeks—bandages, salves, instruments Orwyle had provided. Clean linens. Candles. Everything a midwife would need.
"This is where our child will be born?" Helaena surveyed the chamber with complicated eyes. "A secret room in a secret passage?"
"A safe room. Hidden from everyone who might want to harm you or the baby."
"It's... dark."
"There are candles."
"It's cold."
"There are blankets."
She touched the stone wall. Her hand came away damp.
"Our child's first home is a dungeon."
"Our child's first home is a fortress." I took her hand. "Not ideal. But necessary."
"I know." She didn't pull away. "I know why this has to happen. I just... wish it didn't."
"When this is over—when the war ends, when we don't have to hide—we'll give them everything. Sunlight and gardens and a home that doesn't require locked doors."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
She turned into my arms. Her belly pressed against me—our son, growing, waiting for his moment.
"Ten more days," she whispered. "The dreams say ten more days."
"We'll be ready."
"We have to be."
THE MIDWIFE
Marra arrived under cover of darkness.
I'd sent for her through intermediaries—three layers of contacts between my message and her door. She came to a safe house in Flea Bottom, then transferred to a covered cart, then walked the final distance through passages I'd never shown anyone.
She was old—sixty at least, probably older—with hands that had delivered hundreds of children and eyes that had seen everything.
"Lord Protector." She didn't bow. Marra didn't bow to anyone. "You need a midwife."
"For the Queen Regent."
"She's pregnant?"
"Eight months. The birth will be secret. No one can know."
"And the father?"
I held her gaze.
She smiled slowly.
"Ah. Now I understand." She looked around the hidden chamber—taking in the preparations, the supplies, the careful planning. "You've done well. This is better than most birthing rooms in the city."
"But?"
"But she needs to be here before labor starts. Moving a woman in active labor is dangerous. Brings complications."
"She'll be here."
"And the Grand Maester?"
"On standby. If something goes wrong—seriously wrong—he'll come."
"Good." Marra began inspecting the supplies. "When do you expect the birth?"
"Ten days. Maybe less. Her dreams say the blood moon."
"Her dreams?"
"Queen Helaena has... gifts. Visions. They're usually accurate."
"I've heard stories." Marra didn't seem disturbed. "Then we prepare for the blood moon. But we also prepare for earlier. Babies come when they want, not when we want."
"What do you need?"
"More clean water. More linens. And quiet—when the time comes, she'll need absolute quiet and no interruptions."
"She'll have it."
Marra turned to face me fully.
"You love her. I can see it. Good. Love helps." Her expression softened slightly. "But when the baby comes, you'll have to let me do my work. No matter how scared you get. No matter what happens. Trust me."
"I trust you."
"Then we'll get through this." She returned to her inspection. "I've delivered babies in worse places than this. Secret rooms, siege camps, ship's holds during storms. Your queen will be fine."
I wanted to believe her.
I needed to believe her.
But the dreams that woke Helaena screaming—the visions of blood and fire—left me wondering what challenges the blood moon would really bring.
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