CHAPTER 122: CHAPTER 121. THE BIRTH OF ROYAL HEIR

"Sit down!" Morwenna snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice through Roxanne’s frantic pacing.

The emperor froze mid-step, chest heaving, eyes wild with the kind of panic only an alpha can feel when their omega is in labor. Morwenna had originally been inside the delivery room, both as Vivianne’s mother-in-law and as the closest thing Vivianne had to a mother now, but Roxanne’s restless commotion had grown unbearable. She stepped out to knock some sense into her daughter.

Seeing Roxanne like this tugged at something old and fond in her memory. Perhaps this was exactly how Ashkareth had looked when she had given birth to Roxanne years ago, so manic with fear that almost twenty guards had to physically restrain her from breaking down the doors.

Alphas are notoriously overprotective of their omegas, and childbirth is also when that instinct sharpened into something feral. It isn’t uncommon for an alpha to lose themselves in panic and attack anyone they believe is causing their mate pain, even midwives, healers, or family.

That’s precisely why an alpha had never been allowed inside a delivery room.

Roxanne swallowed hard, her throat working, fingers trembling despite the way she tried to clench them into fists.

"She’s in pain," she whispered, raw, frayed at the edges.

"Of course she is. She’s giving birth." Morwenna’s voice softened, the sharpness melting into something warm and grounded. "And if she knew you were out here pacing holes into the palace floor, she’d scream louder at you than she does at the contractions."

"Okay, I’m sitting down." Roxanne collapsed beside her mother, posture stiff, eyes locked on the doors of the delivery room as though willing them to open through dominance alone.

"Bring us tea," Morwenna instructed a maid, who hurried off with a bow.

The palace felt strangely small despite its vast corridors. The scent of fear, Roxanne’s, hung faintly in the air, thickening every passing minute. She isn’t even trying to mask it.

Ashkareth had already returned to Erevalis. He couldn’t remain in Borgia for too long, because demons have a chaotic nature, and a principality without a ruler will get turned upside down.

However, before leaving, he had brought Vyrael with him. He is one of the leaders of the demons’ 7 houses and also the elder of all the demons. Vyrael has been insisting on meeting Vivianne before the birth.

Most people, upon seeing Vivianne for the first time, stared as though they were witnessing something impossible: an omega so breathtaking she seemed sculpted by the gods. But Vyrael’s reaction had been different.

The moment he laid eyes on Vivianne, reverence sparked in him like a lit torch. He bowed deeply, first to her, then to Roxanne, the alpha chosen by the bearer of Chronos’s power, the time spirit. That moment bound Vyrael’s loyalty firmly to Ashkareth’s side and strengthened the foundation of support the demon race would give Roxanne as the only true sovereign alpha on the continent.

And now that same alpha is stomping her foot like a restless wolf pup, frantically scraping at every edge of her restraint. Her scent spiked sharply for the tenth time in half an hour, and Morwenna sighed.

"This is exactly why alphas are never allowed inside delivery rooms," she muttered. "Instinct gets too strong. One midwife yells too loudly, and suddenly the alpha thinks someone’s trying to kill their mate."

Roxanne shot her a look that was half glare, half despair. "If someone hurts her—"

"No one is hurting her," Morwenna cut in firmly. "She is giving birth. Not fighting a war."

Roxanne pressed both hands against her face, dragging them down. "It feels like I’m useless out here."

"That’s because you are," Morwenna said without sympathy. "And that is fine. Sometimes the strongest thing an alpha can do is sit still and wait."

Roxanne exhaled shakily, shoulders trembling despite her efforts to hold them steady. Every faint sound from inside the room made her flinch. Every minute carved another gouge into her patience.

Time crawled. Her foot started tapping again.

Morwenna smacked her knee. "Stop that." Roxanne growled under her breath.

Another contraction sound, this one sharper, Vivianne’s voice breaking through the thick walls, and Roxanne jolted upright, eyes glowing gold. Morwenna grabbed her arm before she could stand fully. "Sit. Down."

"But—" Roxanne is about to jump.

"Down." Morwenna changed her tone to a motherly one, thus forcing Roxanne to sit again, breathing hard like she had run miles.

Morwenna, watching her daughter unravel, smiled faintly. Perhaps this is how Ashkareth had been, years ago, needing ten people to restrain her when she gave birth to Roxanne.

The mighty alpha bloodline of Erevalis and her Erengard royal bloodline were reduced to helpless, terrified fools when their omegas brought life into the world. Roxanne leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes unfocused.

"Just... tell me when it’s over," she murmured. "Tell me when she’s safe."

Morwenna lifted her cup as the maid returned with tea. "You’ll know the moment your child cries," she said gently. "So breathe, Roxanne.

-

Inside the delivery room,

Vivianne had always been graceful, even in pain, but labor stripped her bare, down to breath, bone, and sheer, desperate endurance. The moment the contractions seized her, her entire body tightened, trembling with a force she could no longer disguise behind soft smiles or quiet strength. Sweat clung to her temples, her hair damp and plastered to her skin, her breaths sharp as shattered glass.

In both of her lives, this was the first time she had ever given birth, and the pain was so blinding she wanted to scream Roxanne’s name and punch her straight in the face. The midwives moved around her, experienced, focused, yet tense.

Because not only is Vivianne not their ordinary omega, she’s also their empress; the birth of an imperial heir is never simple.

Undine had been with Vivianne from the very beginning, standing beside her like a shimmering veil of blue light. Soft streams of healing energy flowed from her palms, cool and steady, soothing what pain they could without disrupting the natural rhythm of childbirth.

The healers could do nothing but stand back in awe, their attention fixed on the rippling aura of the spirit king’s power. Even those who had delivered dozens of royal heirs had never witnessed anything quite like this.

They can’t see the ethereal shape of Undine’s true form, standing protectively at Vivianne’s bedside, but they can sense her power. Her presence wrapped around the omega like a gentle tide, keeping her grounded, guarded, and unharmed.

Meanwhile, the other spirit kings watched Roxanne instead, hovering invisibly near the door. If the alpha so much as twitched with the instinct to storm inside the room, they would restrain her in an instant. Roxanne might be the strongest living alpha, but an alpha blinded by panic could cause more harm than any enemy.

Undine, however, remained steady, her focus entirely on Vivianne. "She’s doing beautifully," the water spirit murmured, her voice a cool whisper that only Vivianne could hear.

Vivianne clung to that voice, to the calm woven through it, even as another wave of pain tore through her and made her gasp for breath. Undine’s power dulled the edges, but the agony still rose and crashed inside her like a storm.

She clenched the sheets beneath her, knuckles turning white as another contraction wracked her. A strangled cry escaped, not weak, but primal. Her entire frame arched, her body fighting and yielding all at once.

"Good, Your Highness. Again—just like that," the head midwife encouraged, bracing her gently.

Vivianne nodded, jaw tight, forcing her breath to steady even as tears blurred her vision. She could feel the strain deep within, muscles burning, bones aching, as if her entire being were splitting open so her child could step into the world.

Outside the door, she could hear muffled voices and Morwenna’s steady tone and Roxanne’s frantic pacing, yet all of it faded under the crushing wave of another contraction. Vivianne gasped, lungs dragging in air she barely felt.

Her vision flickered. Her heart raced in uneven thuds. The pressure built and built until it felt like the world might break.

"Now, Your Highness," the midwife said sharply. "Push."

Vivianne gritted her teeth and bore down, every muscle trembling, her voice breaking into a cry that shook the room. Undine’s energy surged brighter, stabilizing her, soothing the tearing pain, knitting where she could, and strengthening where she couldn’t.

"Again!"

Vivianne pushed until the edges of her vision went white, until she thought she might slip away, but she held on. For Roxanne. For the child. For the future of their empire.

A sudden shift. A rush. A sound like the world exhaling.

Then—a cry.

High, sharp, alive.

Vivianne collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving, tears spilling freely. Undine’s light softened, wrapping her like a comforting embrace. The midwife lifted the tiny, wailing infant, swaddling her quickly before placing her into Vivianne’s trembling arms.

"A daughter," she whispered, her voice breaking with joy. "A beautiful baby girl." Vivianne stared down at her child, breath hitching, love flooding her so overwhelmingly she could barely speak.

The infant calmed the moment she touched Vivianne’s skin, small fingers curling instinctively. No one could yet tell whether she would grow to be an omega, alpha, or beta; those traits revealed themselves only after a year.

But right now, she’s simply perfect. Vivianne closed her eyes, tears spilling. "She’s here," she whispered. "Get my wife here."