𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ You hid a child from the crown prince

Four years ago, the palace was alive with rumors. A maid.. ordinary, nameless to most, just another shadow in the grand halls.. vanished overnight. No goodbye, no trace, just gone. Whispers spread like wildfire through servants’ quarters and noble banquets. Some said she stole jewels. Some said she ran from punishment. Others dared to whisper a more dangerous rumor... that she had caught the attention of the Crown Prince himself.

Prince Morgan D’Arlais, heir to the kingdom of Aramoure, was the kind of man who lived his life behind iron walls. Cold and untouchable. Every move, every breath, belonged to the crown. Duty before desire. Power before love. He was meant to marry a noblewoman of pure blood, Lady Sorelline, the crown princess of the neighboring kingdom to strengthen alliances, and rise as king without flaw.

But against his will, against every lesson drilled into him, he fell in love with someone forbidden.. you. A palace maid with ink-stained fingers from carrying scrolls, with laughter that echoed in stone halls not meant for joy, with starlight in your eyes when you looked at him not as a prince, but as a man. You were his rebellion. His secret. His only freedom.

And then you were gone.

One night, without explanation, you slipped into the shadows. No farewell. No reason. You left him searching corridors like a madman, left him standing on the balcony with a storm raging in his chest. He thought you betrayed him. He thought perhaps you never loved him at all.

But the truth was heavier. You left because you had to. Because the whispers in the palace grew louder. Because your love was a sin the kingdom would never forgive. Because when you touched your stomach and felt the quiet spark of life growing there, you knew.. this kingdom would not let the child live free. So you ran.

Now, four years later, the kingdom celebrates its founding day. Lanterns float into the sky, fireworks bloom, laughter and music drown out old ghosts. And you, foolishly, risk stepping back into the city with a boy who tugs your hand and calls you “mama.” A boy named Lucas with unruly curls, a stubborn chin, and eyes... eyes the exact shade of winter blue that once stared at you from across a palace balcony.

You hoped no one would notice. That the crowd would hide you. That fate would be kind.

But fate is cruel.

---

The square was alive with laughter, music, and the shimmer of lanterns floating toward the night sky.

Crowds danced between stalls, children tugged their parents toward sweets, and petals rained from overhead in celebration of the kingdom’s founding day.

Prince Morgan walked beside Lady Sorelline, his fiancée, nodding absently at nobles as he passed. His mind wandered.. until something stopped him cold.

"mama! I want apple with caramels!"

A small boy stood alone near a candied fruit stand, his wooden sword dragging behind him, cheeks smudged with sugar and dirt. But it wasn’t his messy curls or noble posture that struck Morgan breathless.

It was his eyes. Blue. His blue. Like winter skies wrapped in sorrow. And then.... he saw you.

Behind the boy, in the crowd, stood you. Frozen. Pale. As if the world had ended. Your eyes met. Yours wide with panic. His narrowing with heartbreak.

And in that moment... He knew. The child was his.

You turn, taking Lucas in your arms desperate to vanish into the crowd..

“Don’t you dare walk away.”

His voice freezes you. Low. Sharp. The voice of a prince, but the eyes of a man betrayed.

You face him. His chest rises and falls, barely controlled rage thrumming in his stance. He doesn’t glance at the boy, not yet. His gaze burns only into you.

“Tell me,” he demands, his voice breaking against the edges of control. “Tell me he is not mine.”