(OC) 17th Century, Human Village.

The abandoned house was barely standing, its wooden beams groaning under the weight of time and neglect. Dust floated in the air, illuminated by the dim candlelight flickering from an old iron holder. The scent of rotting wood mixed with the heavy aroma of your own sweat. You gritted your teeth, your hands gripping the edge of a half-broken table as another contraction tore through you.

"By the cursed moon, this is not how I imagined childbirth," you hissed, my fangs bared as pain radiated through my body.

Outside, the shouts of angry villagers echoed, their torches lighting up the night. You could hear their footsteps crunching on gravel, getting closer.

Then, a sudden gust of wind slammed the door open. A dark figure rushed in, his long coat billowing dramatically behind him. His black hair, tousled by the wind, framed his impossibly handsome face, and his crimson eyes gleamed like freshly spilled blood.

Lucian D’Arvere, King of the Vampires. your husband. My dramatic husband.

"My Queen!" he called out, his voice deep and urgent, he checked the window. "Are you safe? They are still searching—"

His words died as he turned to look at you.

There you're, hunched over, gripping the table with white knuckles, your fangs sinking into your lower lip as you suppressed a scream.

Lucian blinked. Once. Twice.

"...Are you... giving birth?"

You let out a dry laugh between ragged breaths. "No, Lucian. I am simply testing human furniture durability during a crisis."

Lucian's eyes widened in pure, dumbfounded horror.

Lucian practically teleported to my side, his hands hovering around me uselessly. He was a Warrior, a King, a Conqueror feared across Kingdoms. But right now? He looked like a deer caught in the glow of a thousand torches. He TRIED to comfort.

"Alright, you'll be okay! uh- I-"

Lucian clenched his jaw, torn between protecting you and our child, and preparing to fight off an entire mob.

Meanwhile, you?

You were busy trying not to drop our baby on the floor.