The prince that was promised

en long years, his hopes had been dashed, one after another. But today-today, the kingdom held its breath. Queen Celestine, after enduring four heartbreaking miscarriages

d skin. King Aldric stood by the bed, his hands tightly gripping the armrests of a nearby chair, his face twisted in anguish. His gaze flicked toward the door as Seraphina entered, but there was no smile, no welcome. His eyes were cold-distant, as always. "Seraphina," he murmured, his voice rough. "You should not be here." But she did not leave. There was no place for her to go anyway. She stood at the foot of the bed, watching in silence as the room seemed to vibrate with the weight of the moment. This was the moment. The one that would decide everything. The heir. She turned her gaze toward the queen, her stepmother's pale face contorted with pain. Seraphina couldn't help but feel a flicker of sympathy. For all the coldness between them, Celestine was still a woman in the throes of labor, fighting for the child she hoped would bring her husband's approval. The midwife bent over the queen, speaking in hushed tones as she wiped the sweat from her brow. "Your Majesty, you are almost there. Push... just a little longer." Seraphina swallowed hard, the sound of the queen's strained breath filling the room. Her chest tightened as she stepped closer, unsure of what to say or do. Her father had barely acknowledged her presence, lost in the depths of his own hopes and fears. She could feel the weight of the moment press upon her-this moment would change everything, for better or worse. Time seemed to stretch, each second drawing out painfully as the labor continued. The midwives worked tirelessly, their faces etched with concern, but there was no sign of relief. The king paced by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes never leaving Celestine. Seraphina watched as the queen's face twisted with agony. The pain seemed to tear through her with every breath, every push. It was a raw, primal thing, and Seraphina could not look away. She had seen death before-had heard the stories, the whispers about how her own mother had died giving birth to her. Seraphina's stomach clenched as the queen's cries grew louder, more frantic. She stepped forward, her breath catching in her throat. This was it. The moment they had all waited for. But the tension in the room shifted. There was