Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 569: Chapter 569

The carriage rolled steadily along the moonlit road, its wheels clattering over uneven ground as it made its way back toward the palace. Outside, the night was cool and quiet, silver light spilling across the path beneath a sky scattered with stars.

Inside the carriage, Circe sat beside Ragnar, one hand resting on her swollen belly as they returned from a banquet hosted by one of the kingdom’s high ranking officials. The evening had been long and eventful, leaving her exhausted and in desperate need of rest.

Without warning, a sharp, twisting pain tore through her lower abdomen.

She inhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the seat so hard her knuckles turned white while she endured the pain and waited for it to pass.

Ragnar glanced when he noticed her wince.

"What is it?" He asked, brows furrowing in concern. frёewebηovel.cѳm

"Nothing," she replied through gritted teeth. "Just a kick. A very strong one."

He studied her face carefully, his eyes narrowing.

"That wasn’t a kick." His voice was firm. "I’ve watched you through this entire pregnancy. I know what your face looks like when the baby moves. This is different."

Before she could answer, another pain struck. This one was worse.

The agony tightened around her abdomen like a vice, stealing the breath from her lungs. A low groan escaped her before she could stop it.

Ragnar’s expression changed instantly.

Fear flashed in his eyes. Without hesitation, he raised his fist and slammed it against the roof of the carriage.

"Faster!" he shouted to the driver. "Get us back to the palace now!"

The driver snapped the reins at once.

The horses surged forward, and the carriage lurched as it picked up speed. Ragnar immediately wrapped an arm around Circe, pulling her closer to him. His hand settled over hers atop her stomach as another wave of pain rolled through her.

"It’s going to be alright l," he murmured, though he sounded as though he were trying to convince himself as much as her.

The rest of the journey felt endless.

Each time Circe winced or drew a sharp breath, Ragnar’s pulse sped up until it felt like the vein at his temple might burst. By the time the palace gates came into view, his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.

The moment the carriage came to a halt, he did not wait for a footman. He threw the door open himself.

Before anyone could react, he scooped Circe into his arms and strode toward the palace entrance.

Servants and guards alike scattered out of his path.

"You!" he barked at a guard stationed near the entrance. "Fetch the royal physician immediately!"

The guard straightened at once.

"And send word to my mother. Tell her to come at once. Her Majesty is in pain and nearing the end of her term. Go!"

His voice was harsh with urgency and fear.

The guards hurried to obey, practically stumbling over themselves in their haste.

Ragnar paid them no further attention.

Holding Circe securely against his chest, he carried her straight toward her chambers, his stride long and swift. His face was tight with worry, and beneath his usual composure lay a fear he rarely allowed anyone to see.

***

Ragnar had faced armies without flinching.

He had stood in the middle of battlefields soaked in blood and gore. He had stared down horrible monsters, fae beasts. He had watched men die and sent others to their deaths.

None of it compared to waiting outside a birthing chamber.

His boots struck the stone floor in a relentless rhythm as he paced the length of the antechamber. By now he had walked the same path so many times that he could have done it blindfolded.

Twenty-three steps. Turn. Twenty-three steps back.

The flagstones beneath him seemed worn smooth by his endless pacing.

Nearly a full day had passed.

Ragnar dragged a hand through his hair before stopping beside the chamber doors once more, feeling restless. The thick oak stood closed before him, silent for only a moment before another cry echoed from beyond it.

The sound cut through him like a blade. He felt even more wretched knowing he could feel her, feel a fraction of the pain she was in and yet he could do nothing to ease her suffering.

Several attendants standing nearby visibly flinched whenever he turned around. The sight of his pitch black eyes made them feel uneasy, especially when he was pacing like a caged animal.

Dark tendrils leaked from him and curled along the floor. Normally his control over his shadows was absolute. Today it was unraveling. The darkness slipped from him without conscious command, spreading across the stone before eventually retreating back toward its master.

A servant approached him warily carrying a cup of wine.

"Your Majesty." He greeted.

Ragnar accepted the wine without looking.

Someone had thought it might help calm him.

He stared at the dark liquid for several moments before setting it untouched on a nearby table, knowing he would not be able to stomach a single drop in this state.

Another anguished scream came.

His stomach twisted.

Gods, how much longer?

His thoughts drifted back to how Circe had looked when they returned back to the palace, confident, beautiful, smiling at him despite the first pains already beginning to grip her.

She had squeezed his hand and laughed when he’d started fussing over her.

"Stop looking at me like I’m marching to my execution, Ragnar." She had joked.

At the time he had managed to crack a smile. Now the memory felt like it belonged to another man. Because every passing hour brought darker thoughts.

What if something had gone wrong?

What if she was bleeding out?

What if—

Another cry echoed through the door.

Ragnar closed his eyes.

Every scream sounded weaker than the last. Every scream sounded more exhausted and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

For perhaps the first time, he hated being king.

A king could command armies. A king could shape laws. A king could bring nations to heel. Yet he could not help the woman he loved most. freewebnovel.cσ๓

The chamber doors remained shut before him. They seemed almost mocking now.

A hand settled carefully on his shoulder.

Ragnar turned to see who it was.

Falein stood beside him looking as calm as ever. He appeared untouched by the tension gripping the rest of the palace.

"Still pacing?" Falein asked mildly.

Ragnar grunted in response, unable to form words.

Falein’s lips twitched. "I suspected as much."

Another scream echoed from inside the chamber, and Ragnar’s shoulders immediately stiffened.

Falein sighed. "Your majesty, childbirth has always been a woman’s domain."

Ragnar said nothing to that.

"It is difficult," Falein continued, "but there are skilled hands with her. You cannot fight this battle for her."

But it seemed that was the wrong thing to say.

"You think I do not know that?" Ragnar snapped, agitated.

Several attendants jumped at his harsh tone.

Falein remained entirely unmoved by it. He had known Ragnar for so long that this burst of anger barely fazed him.

Ragnar took a step back, his chest rising and falling heavily. "You think I enjoy standing here while she suffers? Listening to this?" His shadows stirred violently, darkness creeping along the walls in writhing tendrils. "You don’t understand what this feels like."