Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points! - Chapter 166

Chapter 166: • The Birth Of An Heir

Her body molded into his as if she belonged nowhere else.

When they finally pulled apart, Sephira licked her lips, savoring the taste of him before her gaze darkened with mischief.

Slowly, deliberately, she shifted, turning in his lap and straddling him. The soft folds of her gown gathered around her thighs as she rested her hands on his chest, her hips settling against him.

“I hear our sweet empress is with child… I hope you don’t plan to let me fall that far behind her.”

Arkanos chuckled, his hands instinctively finding their place on her hips, his fingers pressing into the soft curves beneath the silk of her gown.

“Oh dear,” he mused, his smirk widening. “Don’t tell me you wish to be made a mess of inside the cart. What would the coachman think?”

Sephira let out a delighted laugh, her green eyes gleaming in the dim lantern light. She trailed her fingers along the collar of his shirt, tugging playfully as she leaned in close, her lips barely brushing his ear.

“Since when have you bothered yourself with the opinions of commoners?” she whispered.

Arkanos chuckled softly, “Fair point.”

She chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to his jaw before trailing lower.

A deep, knowing hum rumbled from him as he shifted beneath her, hands roaming the curves of her body beneath silk.

The cart swayed ever so slightly as their movements grew bolder, as night slowly fell upon them.

….

….

Many months had passed since then.

The imperial chambers of the empress reeked of blood, sweat, and burning herbs.

The sheets were soaked in bodily fluids. Candles lined every surface, their wavering flames casting violent shadows against the towering marble columns.

Incense curled through the air in waves, an attempt to mask the stench, but it could do little to overpower the coppery tang of blood and the sharp bite of antiseptic oils.

Empress Illena lay in the heart of it all, her bare thighs trembling, slick with sweat and streaked with red as her body writhed through the final agonies of childbirth.

Her skin was now blotched red with exertion, her lips cracked from hours of screaming. Her silver and green hair stuck in damp clumps to her face in a wild, tangled mess.

Her hands were now locked in a white-knuckled grip against the damp sheets, nails digging deep into the silk.

Selvia remained perfectly composed despite the chaos surrounding her.

Her sleeves were folded back, revealing pale forearms streaked with sweat and birth fluids as she worked efficiently. A damp cloth drenched in rosemary-infused water was in one hand, while the other rested on the Empress’s shoulder, her grip firm.

“Your Majesty, you must push.”

The midwives stood in a tight semi-circle at the foot of the bed, their aprons already stained with afterbirth and amniotic fluid, hands coated in oils and balms meant to ease the final moments of delivery. The lead midwife, an older woman with graying hair tucked into a tight cap, knelt between the Empress’s trembling legs, her fingers pressing gently but firmly against the crowning head of the baby.

“Now, Empress,” the woman commanded. “Push with all you have left.”

Illena let out a shuddering, gasping breath, her chest heaving. The pain ripped through her like a blade, splitting her apart as her stomach tensed with a final, unbearable contraction. She threw her head back, her raw scream tearing through the room, her muscles seizing as she bore down with everything in her.

And then—

A sickening rush of fluids, a sharp cry splitting through the sweat-drenched air.

The midwife moved quickly as she lifted the blood-slicked infant from between the Empress’s thighs. A newborn’s wail filled the room.

“A prince,” the midwife announced. “A strong, healthy boy.”

Selvia stepped forward instantly, unrolling a length of steamed, sterilized silk and wrapping it around the still-wet newborn. Blood smeared against the fine fabric, soaking into the deep violet cloth embroidered with golden imperial sigils.

The baby was ruddy, slick with birth, and tiny—his fingers curled into instinctual fists, his cries strong enough to make the lantern flames tremble. His silver lashes were still damp, sticking to the flushed, roundness of his cheeks.

Selvia moved, cradling the newborn against her forearm as she gently wiped his face with another warmed cloth. His screams softened to little shuddering breaths, his lips parting in search of warmth.

Illena, barely conscious, turned her head, her breath coming in ragged pants, her chest still rising and falling erratically. Her arms trembled as she reached out.

Selvia lowered the child into his mother’s waiting arms, she moved carefully, ensuring the Empress could hold him without strain.

The baby pressed instinctively against her sweat-slicked skin, his tiny mouth rooting against her chest as he made the first soft, mewling noises of hunger.

Illena’s eyes, dazed with exhaustion, flickered with something softer—something unbreakable—as she traced a shaking finger over the newborn’s impossibly soft cheek. Her lips parted in a hoarse whisper, her voice breaking with raw emotion.

“He’s here,” she gasped, her voice barely above a breath.

Selvia, her ever-watchful gaze scanning the Empress’s weak but stable frame, gave a curt nod. “He is strong, Your Majesty. He will thrive.”

Around them, the midwives moved, discarding soaked linens, applying a mix of honey and herbs to prevent infection, offering Selvia a bowl of warm broth laced with crushed willow bark to help with the Empress’s lingering pain.

The stench of blood still clung to the air, but it was now mixed with something new—something warm, something fragile.

Selvia straightened, her gaze flickering toward the heavy double doors of the chamber. With a small motion, she gestured to the nearest attendant.

“Send word to His Majesty,” she ordered. “The heir has been born.”

The attendant rushed from the room, the heavy thud of boots against marble echoing through the halls.

As the room settled, as the last of the chaos melted into quiet murmurs and the rhythmic breaths of mother and child, Selvia remained rooted at the Empress’s side, her hands folded neatly, a radiant smile on her face.