"Your Majesty, Gilbert Winterbourne has defied your orders by marching to Terrawyn. You must order for his arrest, for he has committed high treason!" the Marquis of Hasteburn barked, his round face red with rage.

The room was silent, and aside from the Marquis's heavy breathing, there was no sound whatsoever. All the men in the room were in a state of fear and panic, and worse, no one knew what to do.

Cassian Winterbourne was dead. The King's greatest benefactor was dead.

     Gilbert was understandably mad with grief, but his decision to march north could very well cost Edmund his crown, and as for the Phoenicians, their lives. But what else could have he done? The Terrawinnians rejected their peace treaty, and even went ahead and slaughtered the Earl of Rhyland.

They incited the war, and the Phoenicians were forced to play along.

    "That boy is a traitor, Your Majesty. He is a product of his heretical upbringing. It isn't wise to keep traitors within your circle-"

    "Enough!" Edmund shouted. "I've had enough of your lies! Gilbert Winterbourne has done more for this kingdom than you and your house ever did!"

The Marquis of Hasteburn reeled in shock, having never seen such rage on the King's face before.

      Edmund added, "Haven't you realised, Lord Hasteburn, that you are blinded by your own prejudice and hatred? You are so consumed by your ideals that you see everyone different from you as inherently evil. For once, let me hold a discussion that is untainted with your ramblings!"

The Marquis lowered his eyes in shame, but he could still hear the sly chuckles of those around him, revelling in his misfortune.
      Rupert Hasteburn had thought that the King would value him more, now that the Earl of Rhyland was dead. But why does it seem as if he had fallen out of favour instead?

The King ignored the sulking marquis and continued with his discussion, though none of the lords had any idea on how to solve their problems. A vast majority proposed that the nobilities flee to Amaris, or even ask the foreign kingdoms to lend them their armies.

      Then, just as the lords began to quarrel amongst themselves, the door to the council room swung open and a young lady burst inside.

It was not just any young lady, however. It was Lady Lillianna Reinmar, the Queen's lady-in-waiting.

    "Is there something wrong, Lady Reinmar?" Lord Ingram asked warily, and at that moment, the King finally turned around to glance at her.

The King was shocked to see Lillianna with her hair dishevelled, tears and snot running down her cheeks, and her face was completely white, as if she had just seen a ghost.

    "Your Majesty," she choked in between sobs. "The Queen's baby is coming early."

      The maids and midwives within the birthing chamber were undoubtedly shocked to witness the King's presence within the room. While it isn't unheard of for men to be inside the birthing, it was quite rare, as most men of the time considered themselves 'above' womanly business.

But Edmund could not care less about these matters. He headed straight towards Anne's chambers, ignoring the words that came out of the mouths of those lords.

     He burst inside, only to find his queen laying still on the bed, a pool of red surrounding her legs. His mother was by Anne's side, trying to feed her all sorts of witchy concoctions, while the midwife continuously told her to keep pushing.

As aforementioned earlier, few Phoenician men bothered to care about what happened within the birthing chamber, and instead, they only cared whether the child turns out to be a boy or not. And as a result, they knew very little about the horrors of childbirth.

      Edmund himself did not know much, but he thought that it was odd how Anne was completely silent. There were no screams, no howls of pain. Nothing.

    "Anne?" he called softly as he moved closer towards the bed, and his blood ran cold. Anne's eyes were completely shut, and his mother had to pry her mouth open as she shoved spoonfuls of broth into her mouth.

He reached for her hand. Her skin was cold, like ice.

    "What is going on, Mama?" he questioned, his face taut with worry. "What is wrong with her? What happened to her?"

Amaranthis lowered her head, unable to find the courage to look at her son in the eye. "Ned, she found out about her father's death. She was so distraught, and then she began to bleed."

    "How did she find out about that?" Edmund said with a frown.

He knew that Anne did not handle grief very well, and finding out about her father's death could very well destroy her.
    He purposely kept Cassian's death a secret, out of fear that this would happen. Well apparently, he did not hide it good enough.

    "I gave her the letter," Amaranthis murmured. "The one from Gilbert Winterbourne."

    "I told you, Mama," Edmund contended. "I told you so many times, under no circumstances will you let her know about that. Because I know that this will happen. I know that it will break her.."

And he was right.

The King's Mother slowly retreated, her hands trembling with fear when she noticed the burning rage within her son's eyes.

    "Your Majesty," the midwife stammered, gaining Edmund's attention. "The baby is in the breech position. Even if we turn the baby around, it will be difficult to save both of them."

    Edmund swallowed hard as he tries to comprehend the midwife's words. He barely understood what she was trying to convey, but he knew one thing. Anne's life was in danger.

    "You must save her," he choked. "I will give you anything. Land, wealth, gold.. Anything you ask for. Please... Please save her."

The midwife frowned. The King's promise was very tempting, but this is not something within her control.

    "Your Majesty, in this case, we can only save one of them," she stated. "The Queen is bleeding heavily, and if we tend to her first, then the child will suffocate. But if we save the child, then she will almost certainly bleed to death."

    "Save her," the King insisted. "Do what you must to save her."

The midwife nodded obediently as she tucked away the knives and scalpels that were laid out on the table beside her. It seemed like she did not need them after all.

As she reached for fresh linen to help staunch the bleeding, she noticed that the Queen had begun to stir awake.

    At first, I felt as if I were in a daze, as if I were underwater. As if I were in a cold, empty void. But then, the waves of pain returned, and I jolted awake.

A scream left my lips as I felt my stomach lurch, but instead of falling down onto the bed, I found myself falling into the arms of my husband.

    "Edmund?" I whimpered. My vision was blurred by my tears, but I could still see him bringing his face closer to mine. One of his arms pillowed my neck, while his other hand gently caressed my cheek.

    "You will be alright, my sweeting," he reassured, holding me close to him. "Everything will be alright. It will only hurt for a bit."

I look down to see the midwife holding bundles of linen, while her apprentice was brewing some sort of concoction on the floor.

    "What is that for?" I ask dazedly.

    "For the bleeding, Your Majesty," she answers.

The apprentice ladles the concoction into a wooden bowl while constantly blowing at it to cool it down. My mother-in-law takes it from her hand and rushes back to me, forcing me to gulp down the deep purple goo.

     Before I could even take a spoonful however, another wave of pain ran its course. But instead of going away as it did before, this time it intensified, to the point where it became unbearable.

    "Take it out of me," I cry. "He's kicking me! He wants to be let out!"

I screamed in agony, as if every single bone in my body has been snapped, as if every blood vessel were popped.

    "Take it out, please!" I pleaded, but even in my crazed state, I could see the hesitance on the midwife's face.

    "If we save the child, then you will bleed out, My Lady," she informs. Little did she know that at that point, I had already lost all regard for my own life.

     I am already at my last straw. My father is dead, and my brother's fate is unknown. If I were to die while giving the king an heir, then my daughters would be treated well as the future king's sisters. But if this child were to die along with me, I would be sealing the fate of my daughters and House Winterbourne.

    "I don't care about myself," I say. "Please, you must save my son."

Edmund's eyes widened upon hearing my words. "Anne, what are you saying? We can always have another child, but there can never be another you."

He was correct, but the circumstances are no longer the same. I am a queen without a backing, and it is only a matter of time before the Hasteburns successfully oust me.

    "Edmund, if I were to die, please take good care of our daughters," I whisper to him. "Don't let them suffer the fate of Edward's daughters. When you remarry, don't let the new queen mistreat them."

I felt a stray drop of water splash down on my cheek, and then came another. "Stop it, Anne!" he objected. "You aren't going to die! I forbid it!"

    His voice cracked towards the very end, a little detail of my husband's vulnerability. His arms were wrapped so tightly around me, as if he were afraid that I would melt away like ice, like the frozen corpse he found in Cindertrappe all those years ago.

    "You are the Queen of Phoenicia," he whispers while I dazedly watched him. "Your people need you. Your children need you. And I, I need you. You cannot die, Anne. You cannot die."

A sob rose up my throat as I caress his cheek. "But my love, what if it's my fate?"

At that moment, another wave of pain hit me, but I was too exhausted to even mutter a word, let alone scream.

    "We will begin turning the baby around, My Lady," the midwife says. Her apprentice knelt down in front of my propped up legs, and almost immediately, I felt as if my entire body was being torn apart.

    "Push now, My Lady!" the apprentice urged, and so I did. I bit onto my bottom lip to suppress my screams, and soon the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. But that was the least of my concerns.

    "Someone get her something to bite on, or she'll bite her tongue off!" I hear my mother-in-law order, and soon, a sheet of rolled up linen was brought to me.
    Edmund pried open my mouth and placed the linen between my upper and lower jaw, and the blood from the previous cut began to stain it with red.

    "Hold on, Anne," Edmund whispered. "Just a little bit more. Everything will be alright soon."

He must be so bewildered and confused by what was going on, but instead of being repulsed by all the blood, he stayed here with me, something that could not be expected from most husbands.

It comforted me, and somewhat gave me the strength to keep on pushing. But I was getting tired.

      The entire bed was soaked with my blood, and I had become awfully dizzy. Black specks began to cloud my view, but before I completely slipped into unconsciousness, I felt Edmund's hand lightly patting my cheek.

       "Don't go to sleep now, Anne," he implored. "Don't let go, please. Just a little bit more, my dear. Just a bit more."

I was too tired to even breathe at that point, but I could not let go. Not yet. I grasp onto my husband's hand, holding it close to me as if it were a source of strength.

       "The baby's coming now, My Lady!" the young apprentice notified. "Keep pushing!"

If it were not for the linen in between my clamped teeth, I was certain that I would have lost my tongue by now. But then, just like Edmund had said, the pain abruptly stopped. I allowed myself to lie down, breathing in relief.

    "It's a boy, Your Majesty!" the midwife declared as she passed over the little wrapped bundle to Edmund.

I watched as my husband's face lit up, as if he had never seen anything so precious before. Smilingly, he knelt beside me and laid the bundle in the crook of my arm.

    "Look, Annie," he whispered tenderly into my ear. "It's our son. Isn't he adorable?"

To be truthful, he was not all that adorable. Instead, he looked like a red, hairless monkey, just like all newborns. But he was my son, and the King's long awaited heir.

Even if I die now, my daughters will be spared the fate that befell the daughters of Edward, and I can die peacefully knowing that my Winterbourne blood will live on through this boy.

    "Cassian," I murmured weakly. "Name him Cassian, after my father."

His hair was pitch black, just like my husband and the rest of my children. His skin was a beautiful light brown, just like my own. I wondered what his eyes would look like.

I wanted to stay awake, to see my son open his eyes, but I had no strength left.

      "Yes, we'll name him Cassian," Edmund said as he gently cupped my face. "And we will raise him together, Annie. We'll watch as he grows up. Our little boy has his whole life ahead of him, and we will there for him when he needs us. You and I, do you understand?"

I have lied many times before, but I never thought that my last words would also be a lie.

Before I drifted off into unconsciousness, I looked at him in the eye, and softly I murmured, "I do."