Warning: Scenes of childbirth + descriptions of past battles

The entire chamber smelt like a slaughterhouse. Ramses was not at all unfamiliar with it. On the contrary, it was a scent that brought back horrific memories of past battles - of flayed limbs, curdling screams and the clang of metal against metal.

    Yet he was not standing amongst the dying, vultures circling above, men crying for their mothers amid the frenzy of battle.

    His beloved Queen was squatting on the birthing stones as she clung to a thick rope hung from the ceiling rafters, her maidservants assisting her. Her night dress was drenched in crimson, and her expression contorted in agony, her wails of anguish drowning out the pleading words of the physician that stood before him.

    The Pharaoh had only discerned one sentence before the entire world faded to static.

    "You have to choose..."

    As Pharaoh of Egypt, only he had the authority to order the deaths of his subjects, whether they be criminals of the state or her enemies. It was a task that, though unpleasant, was necessary to uphold the sanctity and purity of Ma'at. Thus, he had grown more than accustomed to ordering the need for death in such circumstances.

    Alas, now he held the lives of his most cherished beloved and the child still yet to come forth in the palms of his blood-stained, quivering hands.

    "Choose...?" His voice choked, and his vision blurred as he looked back at the physician in a daze. The air within his lungs felt like the ash of cedars set aflame, and his heart palpitated painfully within his chest. What words had he just heard?

    "My great Majesty, the child is breech on their side. We have done all we can to have them rotate to the correct position. But, alas, they refuse all our attempts to turn them. So, we can attempt to save either the child or the Queen at this stage..."

    The Pharaoh's voice broke, "You are asking me to determine who is to live?"

    Ordering the execution of a criminal or killing a warrior on the battlefield was by far the most simple of the tasks, regardless of how grim either was. But, for now, he struggled to comprehend what the physician asked of him. Bile rose in his throat, and he felt he could vomit.

    "My Lord Pharaoh, I despise being the bearer of such misfortune, and may the gods forgive me for doing so, but unless the child turns, the probability that neither the child nor the Queen will survive is exceptionally high."

    "But you still give me a choice to choose one over the other?" Ramses stared at him incredulously.

    "If it is possible to save one of them, then rest assured we will do our utmost to do so, your Majesty!"

     As a father to many children, Ramses already knew about the perils of childbirth. He understood the severity of the risks posed to both mother and infant, even during a relatively unhindered delivery. Moreover, he knew that a child refusing to come forth often meant only one thing.

    The emerald hue of his gaze clouded to that of a storm at sea. His eyes steeled, and he took hold of the physician by the scruff of his tunic.

    "Your task, priest," Ramses hissed, "is to save both of them!"

Her feet ached as she paced from one end of the room to the other. She had lost track of all time since she had been sent back to her quarters within the harem. Her bottom lip had swelled with how much she had bitten it with her anxiety, and she could taste the coppery blood as it dripped into her mouth. However, her fingers were no worse for wear, for, despite her nails being frequently manicured, she had now stripped the cuticles from them.

    "My lady, I implore you to come to sit and rest. We can do nothing until we receive word or summons." Seshen pleaded as she helplessly watched the Princess.

    "It is all my fault, Seshen. What if something happens to the Queen and her child? The Pharaoh is never going to forgive me! He will have me strung!"

    "Your Highness, you must calm yourself!" Seshen pleaded, "We all were witness to what happened. Even the Pharaoh himself saw it. Why do you think he struck Princess Isetnofret?
    Malawashina froze at those words as the image of the enraged Pharaoh striking her harem foe flickered before her eyes. It had not been her he had hit, so why was she feeling so uneasy?

A sudden ruckus outside the door caused both women to spin on their heels. A loud female voice could be heard berating the guard outside the door.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do, Asim!" The door flung open as Henutmire strode inside, the young guard behind her pleading like a dog with his tail between his legs.

"The Pharaoh will have my head, Mistress! I was forbidden to let anyone in or out!"

Henutmire scoffed at his plight. "I will deal with my brother, don't you worry. If he thinks he can command me around, he has another thing coming!"

"But, Princess..."

"If you, young Asim, wish to share my bed again in the future, I suggest you shut your mouth and do what I tell you!"

Malawashina and Seshen's eyes widened further at those words, and the young guard flushed all hues of crimson.
"Y..yes, Mistress...b...but the Pharaoh..."

Henutmire rolled her eyes in exasperation. "By all the gods!" She flung up her arms.

"If you be a good boy, I will reward you tonight. Now off you totter!" She flicked him away.
He continued to hesitate, but not even he could resist her beguiling promise, and he eventually backed out the door.

"Henutmire?" Malawashina questioned both in surprise at her presence and at the other notion the older Princess had pertained.

"Greetings, my dear! Sorry for the sudden...uh...intrusion." Henutmire grinned wickedly.

"What was that just now?" Malawashina pushed, an amused expression on her face.

"Oh, the guard? Don't worry about him. He won't dare snitch on us if I have anything to do with it."

"That is exactly what I am referring to!" Malawashina chuckled.

Henutmire shrugged innocently. "I can slake my desires as much as anyone else here."

"Y...yes, of course... it's just that...."

"He's so young?" Henutmire raised a sharp brow.

Malawashina lowered her gaze and nodded timidly, only to have the older princess laugh at her.

"I suppose he is old enough to be my son, but honestly, I am not that old!"

"No, no, you are not." Malawashina giggled.

"Anyway, I do apologise for suddenly dropping by. I know that we are not supposed to go anywhere, but with the current predicaments, I think it proper if we go and pray at the palace chapel. Don't you agree?"

"I agree, but I also want to see Utati." Malawashina felt her heart wrench once more at the thought of her young friend.

Henutmire came to embrace her at seeing the tears welling in her eyes.

"I know, my dear, I know, and I wish we could go there, but the physicians are busy working their magic and should not be disturbed. I am sure they will inform you immediately if anything changes."

"I cannot bare to lose her, Henutmire."

"Oh, I know," Henutmire sighed, stroking Malawashina's hair. "I know what it is like to lose someone you love dearly. But I am sure she will be well. So let us go and pray to the gods for her well-being too."

The blood-curdling scream tore through the birthing chamber as the pain ripped through her again. Her blood and sweat-streaked fingers bore deeply into her husband's arms as she pressed her head against his chest. He held her up upon the birthing stool, for she was now too weak to crouch upon it as the midwife gently guided the infant's head through the birth canal. Ramses could feel her waning strength through her grip as it began to loosen each time she grasped at him for respite.

    They had worked arduously to have the child turn to the correct position, but the ordeal had left the Queen in a perilous state. Her skin, though now smeared with her blood, was pallid and clammy, her breaths shallow as she gasped between pushes.
Ramses was begging her to stay strong and awake, but his voice and those around her were mere echoes within her ears. She was just glad that he was with her now in her most vulnerable state, and if she were to leave this realm, then at least it would be within his loving arms.

"Nefertari, just one more push. Come on, my star. You can do it. Just one more, and the baby will be out. Please, my darling, hold on...." Ramses' voice floated into her ears as she swooned between consciousness and the darkness that beckoned her. She could barely tell that he was in tears and sobbing as he clutched her body desperately to his.

Straining with all her might, she pushed down as hard as her body would allow, groaning now, for she was too clouded to feel herself being ripped again.

The voices surrounding her thudded like a hundred heartbeats, and in her blurred vision, she could see the child's tiny body being lifted above and away from her.

She could not find the strength to form words, but her eyes drifted to where the priests and priestesses huddled around the child. She could just make out her husband's voice pleading with them.

"It is alright, my love. You did well. They are getting his lungs clear so he can breathe. Just stay with me, please, my love. Stay with me...." Ramses was rocking her gently in an attempt to keep her conscious.

"...boy?" Her voice strained finally.

Ramses nodded in response, sniffing the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks.

"Yes, my darling, we had another son!"

Nefertari managed a weak smile as she discerned his words.

They were the last words she was to hear as the world once more spun into black and her husband's cries faded into nothingness.