Five. Two miscarriages. One still born.
That was all Queen Astrid of the Wilderwest could think of, the only noise in the large room was her soft gasps of pain, and the whisperings of the healers and midwives attending her.
Twins. One would think one of them would survive. But there were no cries, no matter how hard the Head Midwife slapped them. And Astrid knew, before the Head Healer could tell her, that these would be her last. There would be no more after these. No hope for an heir.
Her attention was diverted from her woes when she heard a soft gurgle—and the speech of the midwives and healers quickened, rising in volume, as they began to move about more quickly.
"What is going on?" Astrid rasped out, her voice hoarse. Heather laid a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back onto the fresh pillows.
"Rest, My Lady. I will see what it is."
Her Lady-in-Waiting stepped away from the bed and walked towards the huddle of attendants, and suddenly, a babe's cry echoed throughout the room. Heather rushed back to the bed. "The baby is alive," Heather said, excitedly.
"Which?" Astrid asked, "The boy or the girl?"
Heather frowned, "The girl," she said.
But Astrid's attention was again diverted to where the Head Midwife was handing a bundle to the Wet-nurse. "No!" Astrid cried out, sitting up despite the pain and reaching out. "Give her to me."
"My Lady," Heather said, placing a hand on her shoulder again.
The Head Midwife paused, looking at her with concern. "I beg your pardon, Milady, but—"
"Give my child to me or I shall have you tried for treason," Astrid said, her voice regaining some of its usual control and power not lost by hours of labor.
The Head Midwife frowned, fear flickering across her face, and walked over, handing the wrapped bundle to Astrid. Astrid took the child into her arms—a daughter—and studied the small, red, scrunched up face. There was a mop of wispy auburn hair—so much like the King's. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and Astrid wondered what color they would be when the shifted from dark blue.
"Shh…" Astrid murmured, cradling the babe close to her. She placed the infant's mouth next to her breast, and felt pain anew as the child started to suckle.
It was unprecedented, for a woman of noble birth to nurse her own child, let alone a queen. But after all, this would be her last chance to be a mother.
Toothless touched down with nimble limbs, his wings curling to his sides. Hiccup dismounted quickly, and walked with the dragon towards the entrance of the stables, where he and an stableboy unsaddled the dragon.
"I'll see you in a bit," he said, as he left, entering the courtyard. They walked up one of the rear steps to the palace, and entered.
"My Lord," Eret said, approaching. He held out his hands, and Hiccup removed his gloves and coat and handed it to him.
"Well?" Hiccup asked, as Eret followed him out of the hall and into another one. He would go to his offices first. He had those contracts to look over—not to mention his meeting with—
"One survived," Eret answered.
Hiccup paused, turning to look at him with a questioning look.
"A girl," Eret said.
"A girl," Hiccup repeated. He changed course, heading instead towards the queen's quarters. Eret followed.
"My Lord," Eret said, halting, and Hiccup quickly followed suit. "I'm afraid…"
"What is it, Eret?"
"The Head Healer says there will be no more," Eret said. "This will be the last time the Queen is able to conceive."
Hiccup blinked. "Oh," he said, blankly.
"My Lord?" Eret asked, when Hiccup stood rooted to the spot, staring into thin air.
"What?" Hiccup shook himself. "Let's go."
He spurred into action, continuing his bee line for the Queen's quarters. He paused by the door to the Queen's bedchamber, and glanced at Eret, who nodded. The guard opened the door, and Hiccup stepped through, Eret hanging back.
Inside was Lady Heather di Range, the Queen's lady-in-waiting, and the wet-nurse, who was instructing the Queen on… Hiccup froze, frowning, confused as to why the Queen was nursing the child. Heather noticed him, and touched the wet-nurse's arm, whispering to her. The attention of all three women were turned towards him. The wet-nurse and Heather quickly made their escape into the next room.
Hiccup hesitated in the middle of the room, waiting for his wife's consent before approaching.
"My Lord," Astrid said, her voice soft and tired, so unlike her usual tone. "If you so wish…"
He nodded, moving forward again, and stood by the bed, looking down at her and the child in her arms. "A girl?" he asked.
Astrid's face fell, and shame replaced the tired but happy look that had been on it when he entered. "I am sorry, My Lord," she said, looking him in the eye, then looking back down at their daughter. "The boy… he…"
Hiccup climbed onto the bed, laying down next to her, yet a comfortable distance. He looked down at the child.
"Would you like to hold her, My Lord?" she asked.
He looked at Astrid, and nodded, and she carefully placed the babe in his arms. "I know her Name Day will not be for a month," Astrid said. "But I've… been calling her Ky."
"Ky?" he asked, looking at her questioningly.
She shrugged.
He looked back down. "She's beautiful," he said. "I think she got your looks."
Astrid exhaled a laugh through her nose. "Well, she got your hair," she said. "She might get your freckles."
"Let's hope not," Hiccup chuckled. "Ky… I like that. That shall her pet name." He looked at his wife. "How do you feel?"
She smiled tightly. "I am well, My Lord."
He knew she was lying—he could see the pain on her usually controlled face. The way she was sitting stiffly, as if everything hurt. He had seen too many wounded men on the battlefield not to notice the pain in his wife. "You did well," he said.
"I am sorry, My Lord… that the boy did not…" she shuddered slightly, her voice catching.
He didn't answer, his own disappointment too near at hand.
"I'm afraid there won't be any others," she said, her voice quiet. "The healers say I shall not be able to conceive again. It would be a miracle if I was able to…"
He looked down at Ky, wondering what to say in this situation.
"Of course," her voice had changed, the diplomat returning. The hardened politician. "You will have many chances to beget a son." He looked up at her. She was staring at the far wall, pointedly not looking at him. "She need not be your only child."
"Let us not talk of this right now," he said.
She always brought it up, whenever she lost a child. But now the option seemed… more precedent.
He would need to beget an heir eventually… unless the laws were able to be changed and Ky, should she live until his death, be named Queen Regnant. But the laws set in place by his ancestors would be difficult to break, if not impossible.
A son would need to be born.
He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a shrill wail, and Astrid took Ky from his arms and began to nurse again. The wet-nurse and Heather returned to the room, and Hiccup stood from the bed. "I will leave you two to rest," he informed Astrid, and left.
Outside, Eret was still waiting for him, though Hiccup's coat and gloves were now gone. "Well?" Eret asked.
"They both seem to be doing well."
The two men walked in silence to Hiccup's offices. Hiccup sat down at his large desk, sighing. "She really can't conceive any more?" Hiccup asked.
Eret made a noncommittal noise. "Who knows what the Fates have in store for the Queen," he said. "But the healers seem convinced she will not be able to conceive again."
Hiccup leaned back in his seat.
"Under these circumstances, a divorce would be—"
"Let's not talk about that, yet," Hiccup said, standing up and walking to the large windows. He gazed out across the vast gardens of the palace. He could not divorce Astrid. Not without giving her father and brothers the ability and even the right to rise up against him. But if this was the last child Astrid would conceive…
"I suppose I shall have to take a mistress," Hiccup said, a little blandly.
He had, of course, on occasion been with other women since he wed. His wife and him was hardly a love match. Even now, though he was fond of her, he could not say he loved her. They hardly saw each other, leading often separate lives pertaining to their duties. But the mother of an heir could not be a common whore or even a courtesan. She would have to be of noble birth. The daughter of a lord, preferably.
"Shall I acquire a list of appropriate names?" Eret asked.
"No," Hiccup said, his gaze still fixated on the gardens below, wondering when Ky would be old enough to play in them, and wishing he had been able to stay in the Queen quarters a little longer. "I'm not in need of an heir yet. And who knows, perhaps we shall have a Crown Princess one day."
To be continued...?
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like me to continue writing/posting chapters. There's a good chance I'll be posting them over at AO3, my username is also funkytoes there, after a certain point, since my guess is this story will jump past the M rating at some point
Anyway! This story is clearly not of a 'love at first sight' variety. At this point, Hiccup and Astrid do not love each other. They're fond of each other, and are political partners, but they haven't fallen in love (yet?). But it is a love story, it's just a really, reallly slow burn ;)
Thanks again for reading!
See you soon?