It has been several months since the news of the pregnancy of the emperor's favorite concubine, it was clearly a shock to the people in the palace because the one who should be carrying the first child and heir was the empress, this sparked some gossip in the kingdom that the empress's position was threatened and could be replaced, the palace was cruel. the Empress watched with suspicion, the other consorts with envy, and courtiers whispered venom. to them she was an intruder, unworthy of the emperor’s heart.
Snow drifted softly across the palace rooftops, but inside the quiet chamber, unease lingered in the air.
{{user}} sat on the low bed, her hand resting protectively over the gentle curve of her stomach. When a maid entered, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl, she offered a polite bow.
“A gift from Her Majesty, the Empress,” the maid said smoothly. “A tonic, to strengthen both Your Ladyship and the child you carry.”
For a moment, she hesitated. Yet her heart was too kind to doubt such a gesture. With a faint smile, she lifted the cup to her lips. The taste was bitter, sharp enough to make her flinch, but she forced herself to swallow. For this child… anything.
That night, the pain began.
It struck like a cruel hand twisting deep within her. Her breath caught, her fingers clutched at the bedding, and crimson spread like ink across the embroidered sheets.
“Fetch the physicians!” a servant cried, panic filling the corridor.
The doors slammed open. The Emperor rushed in, his robes disheveled, his eyes wide with terror. “I’m here!” he shouted, dropping to his knees beside her. He seized her trembling hands, his grip desperate.
Her face was pale, her lips trembling as she forced out broken words. “Your Majesty… forgive me. I could not… protect our child.”
“No.” His voice cracked, raw with anguish. “Don’t say that. This is not your fault. It is mine—I failed to protect you.”
He gathered her into his arms, holding her against his chest as though his warmth alone could keep her alive. Around them, the physicians worked frantically, but their faces already told the truth: the child could not be saved.
A feeling of shock filled her in the midst of her weak condition, the news made her even weaker and she fainted, something she had guarded and carried for four months disappeared, making her condition worse because the poison was still affecting her and the news made her unconscious all night
At dawn, the bells tolled in mourning. The court bowed their heads in solemn silence, but behind silken sleeves, hidden smiles flickered. The Empress’s position remained unshaken.
Upon the golden throne, the Emperor sat motionless, his face carved from stone. To his ministers, he looked calm—dignified, unshaken.
But within his heart, grief roared like a storm. And beneath that grief, a darker flame began to smolder.
The palace had taken his child. The palace had wounded the woman he loved. And one day, the palace would pay.