Content Warning:

Pregnancy complications.

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Eventually, the Queen allowed only the midwife to see her. Anders had vainly hoped she was avoiding him because she was self-conscious of her appearance. When she retreated to her private chamber, a new worry overtook him.

That would be the perfect punishment for me, wouldn’t it? he thought, picturing the self-righteous Life Fairy watching down from her star. Promising me a child, but taking the life of my beloved? 

This anxiety ate at him until at last, he scaled the palace wall to visit her. He hadn’t climbed her window since the days of their secret courtship. 

Gwynnyth heard the scrabbling on her balcony and called to him before he could enter. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“If you’re ill, I’m coming to see you,” he replied.

She rubbed her sunken eyes and waddled feebly out to the balcony.

At the sight of her condition, he had to swallow a sob. “Gwynnyth.” She lowered herself to her knees, so he did the same. “You aren’t cold in only a chemise?” She shook her head. “That damned midwife told me you were fine.”

“I told her to lie.” 

Anders caressed her cheek and pulled the tangled hair from her eyes. She had missed his touch. Below them, the trees swayed, and above them, the stars winked. With a deep breath, she tried to put her labored thoughts into words. “Anders, if I die in childbirth...”

“You won’t.”

“But if I—”

“You won’t!” he cried, eyes brimming.

“Andre. Let me speak.” Shouting was too much exertion. For months, she had been feeling too swollen and emptied out all at once. She inhaled. “If I don’t survive, remarry quickly just so our child will have a mother. And share every single one of my inventions with the kingdom, even the unfinished ones. Show them what I made.”

Anders’ tears turned black as soon as they left his eyes, another one of his many little quirks. “I promise. But you are not going to die.”