Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 97: The Morning Sickness

[Silthara Palace — The Malika’s Chamber — Dawn]

Dawn crept slowly over Silthara Palace.

The first rays of sunlight touched the golden domes and high terraces of Zahryssar, turning the desert horizon into a sea of pale amber and rose. From the palace gardens below drifted the quiet murmur of fountains and the distant songs of morning birds greeting the rising sun.

Inside Malika’s chamber, the night’s warmth had not yet fully faded.

The heavy curtains stirred gently in the breeze as the morning light slipped through the carved lattice screens.

Upon the wide imperial bed, Levin stirred.

For several moments he remained still, his mind floating somewhere between sleep and waking. His body felt unusually warm, wrapped in the familiar scent of Zeramet’s pheromones, which lingered across the silken sheets like invisible incense.

Slowly, Levin opened his eyes; the chamber was quiet.

Zeramet still slept beside him.

The Serpent Emperor lay on his side, one arm wrapped protectively around Levin’s waist even in sleep, his grip firm as though unwilling to allow even dreams to separate them.

Levin watched him quietly for a moment. There was something strangely peaceful about seeing the feared ruler of Zahryssar resting so deeply.

Then—a sudden wave of discomfort twisted through his stomach.

Levin’s expression tightened immediately.

"...Ah."

His hand moved instinctively to his abdomen; the feeling wasn’t pain, not exactly, but it was unpleasant, heavy, and unsteady.

Levin slowly pushed himself upright on the bed, careful not to wake Zeramet, but the movement alone was enough.

Zeramet’s eyes opened instantly, golden, sharp, and alert.

"What happened?" His voice was still thick with sleep, but the concern in it was immediate.

Levin exhaled slowly, pressing his hand against his stomach again, "I... feel strange."

Zeramet was already sitting up, "Strange how?"

Levin hesitated, then his face paled slightly.

"I think..."

He stopped, then suddenly covered his mouth.

Zeramet’s eyes widened, "Consort—?"

Levin barely had time to turn toward the edge of the bed before the nausea struck. Moments later, the chamber doors burst open.

Iru rushed inside, followed closely by two startled attendants.

"Malika—!"

But Zeramet was already beside him, one hand steadying Levin’s shoulders while the other moved gently through his hair as he murmured quietly, "It’s alright, breathe slowly."

Levin exhaled weakly, "That... was unpleasant."

Behind them, Iru was already moving with frightening efficiency, "Bring water."

The attendants scattered instantly; within moments a bronze basin and fresh cloth were placed beside the bed. Levin wiped his mouth slowly before leaning back against the pillows again.

Zeramet watched him carefully; his golden eyes had darkened slightly with concern.

"Call the physician, Naram...right now."

The attendants scattered instantly.

The chamber, which had only moments ago been wrapped in the quiet calm of morning, now pulsed with the urgency of a battlefield infirmary. Levin wiped his mouth slowly with the kerchief offered by one of the attendants before leaning back against the silk pillows.

He exhaled quietly, but the relief lasted only a breath.

"—PUKE!"

Levin bent forward again, gripping the edge of the basin as another wave of nausea struck him without mercy.

Behind him, Zeramet froze, his golden eyes widened in visible alarm, "Why—why are you vomiting again?"

For the first time since the dawn of the empire, the Serpent Emperor of Zahryssar sounded utterly unprepared. Levin groaned faintly as he leaned back again, accepting the kerchief offered by another trembling attendant.

His mind drifted briefly through the fog of discomfort.

’Mother...’ he remembered faintly. ’Mother used to feel like this when she carried Arinaya... So this... this is what they call morning sickness.’

Before he could think further, the chamber doors burst open. Physician Naram hurried inside, robes slightly disheveled from the speed of his arrival.

"Malik! What has happened—?"

He stopped abruptly because the scene before him was unusual. Zeramet had wrapped Levin completely inside a thick silk blanket like a protective cocoon.

Only Levin’s pale face remained visible; the emperor glared at him.

"My consort is vomiting." His voice was dangerously calm. "Explain."

Naram blinked once, then twice, and—before he could stop himself—a small chuckle escaped him.

The room froze.

Zeramet’s expression darkened instantly.

"How dare you laugh," he said slowly, rising to his full height like a storm about to break. "When my consort is clearly suffering."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

"I should execute you right where you stand—"

A soft hand tapped his arm.

"Zer," Levin’s voice was quiet but firm; the emperor stopped immediately. The murderous tension vanished from his posture as though it had never existed.

Naram cleared his throat politely, "My apologies, Malik."

He bowed slightly.

"But Malika’s condition is... entirely normal."

Zeramet frowned, "Normal?"

The physician nodded calmly.

"Yes." He gestured lightly toward Levin, who still sat wrapped like an imperial silk dumpling. "Vomiting, sudden dislike for food, strange cravings, body aches, swelling..."

He paused thoughtfully.

"...occasional irritability."

Levin gave him a worn-out look, "Irritability?"

Naram coughed lightly, "Purely theoretical, Malika."

Several attendants quietly lowered their heads to hide their smiles. The physician continued calmly.

"You see, Malik... carrying life is not a peaceful task." His tone softened slightly. "The body must change itself completely to protect the child."

Zeramet stared at him in visible shock.

"My consort..." His voice dropped. "...must endure all of that?"

Naram nodded, "Yes."

Then he added gently, "Human mothers usually begin feeling such symptoms around the fourth week."

He glanced thoughtfully at Levin.

"But since Malika’s body is... somewhat unique. His nature was never meant to bear a child, so it appears his body has decided to begin the experience immediately."

Levin sighed deeply, "How thoughtful of it."

Zeramet looked horrified, "My consort will suffer this for months?"

Naram raised a reassuring hand, "Not necessarily. Some days will be easier."

Zeramet narrowed his eyes, "And the other days?"

Naram folded his hands calmly.

"Well..." He looked toward Levin. "...the Malika may wish to keep a basin nearby."

For a moment the chamber remained silent. Then Levin buried his face in the pillow. Zeramet stood there, still holding the blanket cocoon around him, looking like an emperor who had just discovered that ruling an empire was far easier than managing pregnancy.

A long breath escaped him.

"If I had known this earlier..." Zeramet muttered darkly beneath his breath; his golden eyes moved toward Levin, pale and exhausted against the pillows.

"...I might have reconsidered the idea of children entirely."

Several attendants immediately lowered their heads; a faint, poorly hidden chuckle slipped from somewhere in the room.

Levin slowly turned his head.

"You wished for them," he muttered weakly.

Zeramet straightened slightly, as his voice softened at once—"...I still do, but I did not expect my consort to suffer like this."

Iru stepped forward gently, his hands folded respectfully.

"Malika," he said softly, his tone calm and practiced. "Allow me to prepare your bath. It may ease the discomfort."

Zeramet raised a hand immediately.

"No."

The attendants paused; the emperor stepped closer to the bed and carefully adjusted the blanket around Levin’s shoulders.

"I will take care of my consort."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, and then he glanced toward the attendants, "Change the sheets, and ensure there are several more basins prepared in this chamber."

A few attendants bowed quickly, "Yes, Malik."

Iru’s lips curved into a small respectful smile as he inclined his head, "As you command."

Zeramet then reached for a robe resting across the nearby chair, slipping it across his shoulders before turning back toward Levin.

Without another word, he leaned down and lifted him carefully into his arms.

Levin barely protested; at this moment, he looked far too tired to argue with anyone.

Zeramet adjusted his hold protectively.

"Come," he murmured quietly. "A warm bath will help."

Levin rested his head against Zeramet’s shoulder with a quiet sigh as the emperor carried him toward the bathing chamber.

The doors closed softly behind them; for a moment, the attendants stood in silence. Then physician Naram chuckled again, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"It is rare," he said with quiet amusement, "to see the Serpent Emperor of Zahryssar so... humbled."

Several attendants blushed immediately, but a few nodded in quiet agreement.

Naram’s eyes twinkled gently as he continued,

"The heavens truly have blessed this empire." He glanced toward the closed bathing chamber doors. "For the first time... the Malik now understands the price the Malika must pay to bring life into this world."

One of the younger attendants whispered softly, "Do you think Malik will survive these seven months when he is so worried after Malika just vomited?"

Naram laughed quietly.

"That," he said, folding his hands behind his back, "is the true test of Zahryssar’s strength."

Around them, the chamber gradually returned to order. Fresh sheets were spread across the bed, bronze basins were quietly arranged nearby, and servants moved with renewed care.

***

[Bath Chamber—Later]

The warm water of the alabaster bath had settled into a calm ripple, reflecting the pale gold light of morning that slipped through the lattice windows. Zeramet moved carefully beside the bath, a soft cloth in his hand as he gently washed Levin’s shoulders.

The emperor’s movements were unhurried, and deliberate, as though every motion carried meaning.

Levin watched him for a moment before finally speaking.

"I am fine, Zer." His voice was calm but slightly tired.

Zeramet did not stop.

"I know." The cloth moved slowly across Levin’s arm, rinsing the faint traces of sweat and sickness away. "But allow me to care for you."

His tone carried quiet certainty.

Levin lowered his gaze slightly, watching Zeramet’s hands moving smoothly across his skin. The emperor who commanded armies now handled him with a gentleness that few people in the world would ever believe possible.

For a moment, only the quiet sound of water moving against stone filled the chamber.

Then Zeramet spoke again, "You should avoid traveling to Thalryn for now, consort."

Levin’s eyes lifted.

Zeramet’s voice remained calm, but there was concern beneath it, "Seeing your condition... I do not believe the journey would be wise."

Levin’s fingers moved slowly through the warm water.

"But..." He hesitated. "It has been almost a year since I left."

His voice softened slightly.

"I..." The sentence faded unfinished.

Zeramet studied him for a moment, then he said quietly, "Close your eyes."

Levin blinked but obeyed. Zeramet lifted a bronze basin and slowly poured warm water over Levin’s hair and shoulders. The water flowed gently down his face and neck before disappearing into the bath below.

When the basin emptied, Zeramet reached forward and brushed the remaining droplets from Levin’s eyes and cheeks with careful fingers.

"I am not forbidding you from seeing your family," he said softly. "I would never deny you that."

His thumb lingered briefly against Levin’s cheek, "I am simply worried for you, my moonflower."

Levin opened his eyes slowly. Zeramet continued. "If you travel, you will not go alone."

His voice carried quiet authority again.

"Additional knights will accompany you. Physician Naram will travel with you as well, and Iru. Enough attendants to turn half of Thalryn’s court into servants."

Levin chuckled softly, "That sounds excessive."

Zeramet raised an eyebrow, "You are carrying the heirs of Zahryssar."

He rinsed the cloth again.

"Excessive is appropriate."

Levin nodded faintly, then he said quietly, "I will visit Thalryn after the bridge inspection is complete."

Zeramet studied him for a moment, then he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against Levin’s forehead.

"As you wish."

His voice softened again, "Now..."

He brushed a damp strand of hair from Levin’s temple.

"...do you feel better?"

Levin exhaled slowly, "Yes."

Zeramet helped him from the bath and wrapped him in a thick linen cloth before pulling him gently into his arms.

For a moment they simply stood there. Levin resting against Zeramet’s chest. Zeramet’s arms holding him securely.

In that quiet embrace, the warmth between them felt almost sacred.

Husband and consort.

Emperor and moonflower.

Both unaware that the fragile peace of this morning would not last, because beyond the golden walls of Zahryssar, shadows were already gathering.

One threat rising from within their own empire, and another beginning its journey from the frozen lands of Thalryn.

Soon—Those shadows would knock upon their door, and the peace of Silthara Palace would be tested.