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.
"Nothing," she replied through gritted teeth. "Just a kick. A very strong one."
He studied her face carefully, his eyes narrowing.
