The doors swung open again. Not gently, not carefully. They came in fast, skirts brushing stone, hands already moving, voices low but urgent. The midwives did not wait to be announced. They crossed the room like they had done this a hundred times before, like hesitation was a luxury they couldn't afford.
One of them, older than the rest, moved straight to the bed. Her eyes scanned Bianca quickly. The blood. The tension in her body. The way her breath came in sharp, uneven bursts.
She leaned closer, listened, and watched. Then her expression tightened. "The baby is halfway down, yet halfway up." The words came out slow, measured, like she was choosing them carefully.
Edmond stood frozen for a second. "What do you mean?" He took a step forward, but one of the physicians raised a hand, stopping him from getting any closer.
The head midwife didn't look at him immediately. Her attention remained on Bianca, her hands already working, already adjusting, already trying to guide something that refused to move as it should. "She is having complications."
That was all she said. No explanation, no comfort, just that.
Edmond's jaw tightened. "Fix it," he snapped. The word cracked through the room, sharp and commanding, but underneath it, something else crept in.
Fear: Raw, and unfamiliar.
The midwives didn't answer him. They didn't have time. "Out," one of the physicians said, more firmly this time.
A hand pressed lightly but insistently against Edmond's arm. "My lord, you must leave."
Edmond didn't move, not at first.
Bianca screamed again. This time, it was louder. It tore through the room, through him, through whatever resistance he had left.
His chest tightened. Then, he stepped back. Once, then twice. Until the distance between him and the bed felt unbearable. The door closed behind him.
And the world outside felt wrong. Too quiet, too heavy.
Then Bianca screamed again. Even through the thick doors, it carried. Edmond stood there for a moment, staring at the wood as if he could see through it.
As if he could do something, anything. Then he turned, and started pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth.
The corridor stretched longer than it ever had before. Each step echoed against the stone, sharp, restless. Guards stood at attention, but their eyes shifted occasionally, following his movement without meaning to.
Time blurred. Minutes didn't feel like minutes. They dragged. The doors opened, a midwife rushed out. Another pushed past her and went in. Then another. It became a pattern.
A rhythm. In and out, in and out. Like the room itself was breathing.
Edmond stopped one of them once. "What is going on?" His voice was tight, and controlled.
The midwife didn't meet his eyes. "My lord."
"Answer me." Edmond screamed
But she only shook her head slightly and pulled away, disappearing back into the room before he could press further.
He exhaled sharply. Ran a hand through his hair. Started pacing again.
The screams didn't stop. They came in waves. Sometimes louder, sometimes weaker. But always there. Always cutting through everything.
An hour passed, or maybe more. It was hard to tell. Then, the scream changed.
It dropped completely. Enough for Edmond to notice. Enough for his heart to stutter.
He stopped moving. "What just happened?" His voice rose without permission. No one answered immediately.
The door opened again. A midwife stepped out. This one was slower, and more composed.
Edmond moved toward her instantly. "Talk to me." His hands clenched at his sides. "Why can't I hear my wife?" The words came faster now. "Is she alright?"
The midwife nodded quickly.."Yes, my lord." The answer came steadily. "My lady is fine."
Edmond's shoulders dropped slightly. Just slightly. "The child has been delivered successfully."
A breath left him. Heavy, and uncontrolled. "It is a baby girl."
For a moment, just a moment, everything else faded.
A girl!
His child, alive.
He closed his eyes briefly, his head dipping as something close to relief washed through him.."Thank the gods," he whispered under his breath.
Then he straightened. "You should take special care of the child." His voice found some strength again. "It was a premature birth."
The midwife nodded. "We have taken all precautions." Her tone was careful, and measured. "The child will survive."
Edmond nodded once. But then, he paused. Something wasn't right. It wasn't the words. It was the midwife's face. The way her eyes didn't quite hold his. The way her lips pressed together after she spoke. The small hesitation.
Edmond's gaze sharpened. "Why is your face like that?".The question came low. Dangerously quiet.
The midwife exhaled. Not loudly, but enough for him to notice. "Everything is not well."
The words settled slowly. Like a weight pressing down.
Edmond didn't move. He didn't blink.
Then, he stepped forward with speed. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist before she could step back.
"What is wrong?" His voice rose again. Sharp, and demanding. "Is Bianca alive?" The grip tightened slightly.
The midwife winced but didn't pull away..She nodded quickly. "Yes, my lord." Her voice came faster now. "The mother, and the child, they are alive."
Edmond's brows pulled together. That wasn't the answer he wanted, not fully. "What then is the problem?" The question came through clenched teeth.
The midwife hesitated just for a breath. Then she looked up at him, and met his eyes. "The girl…" Her voice faltered. She swallowed. "The girl came out with twisted legs."
The words dropped. Flat, and unforgiving. Edmond's grip loosened. "…What?"
The sound barely made it out. "She might never walk again."
Silence followed. Not the kind that felt peaceful, but the kind that rang loud, and empty.
Edmond took a step back. Then another. As if distance could change what he had just heard. "What…"
The word didn't finish. His legs gave way before the sentence could.
He sank, not gracefully, but slowly. The cold stone met his knees, then his hands as he braced himself. His head lowered slightly.
But his eyes stayed open, fixed on nothing. The corridor blurred around him, voices faded, movement dulled.
The midwife remained where she stood. Watching, and waiting. "I am sorry, my lord." Her voice came softer now. "We did all we could."
No response.
"This was our best."
Still nothing.
Edmond didn't move, he didn't speak. He didn't even look at her. The words reached him. But they didn't settle. They just passed through.
Inside his mind, something shifted. A child, a daughter. Born into a world that didn't forgive weakness. A world that measured worth in strength, in power, in survival.
A world that did not wait. He did not pity. He did not care. He let out a slow breath. It didn't steady him. It didn't help. It just happened.
Behind the closed doors, faint sounds still lingered.
Movement, Voices, life continuing. But out here, in the corridor, something had stopped.
Bianca had given birth. After four years. Four years of waiting. Of hope. Of quiet prayers whispered in the dark.
And now, the child had come. Not as they imagined. Not as the kingdom would have wished.
A daughter, alive, and breathing, but broken in a way the world would not ignore.
Edmond's fingers curled slightly against the cold stone. Tight, and unyielding.
Around him, no one spoke, no one dared. They stood at a distance, watching their lord on his knees, watching something they had never seen before.
A king that was breaking.