Chapter Text
Snow blanketed the kingdom, casting a soft, white veil over the castle's frosted windows.
The air was crisp and biting, causing the kingdom to shiver under the relentless snowfall, unaware that it was on the brink of welcoming a new prince.
A piercing cry reverberated through the grand hallways, echoing across the high, arched ceilings. The sound was soon followed by the quiet creak of a door opening and closing.
A nurse walked into the main hall, clearing her throat before she spoke,
“Pardon the intrusion, my king, we are doing everything we can, but I’m afraid we can’t predict how long she can hold on,” The nurse said, her voice a low murmur as she bowed deferentially to a tall figure cloaked in regal attire before turning back toward the room.
The man, King Alaric, stood outside, an imposing presence clad in shimmering gold-plated jewels that glinted in the dim candlelight, his long garments of silk and cloth flowing around him like a river of luxury. He bore a muscular frame, a striking contrast to the frailty that often accompanied those of his age.
Anxiously, he shifted the weight of his feet and cast a nervous glance out of the expansive windows, feeling the heaviness of his crown pressing down on his brow.
In stark contrast to the routine of royal life, his wife, Queen Selene, had been due to give birth weeks ago, but she had shown no sign of impending labor until the horrifying moment she had suddenly collapsed during a family dinner.
The children had scattered in panic as the King, with steadfast urgency, had swept her into his arms and carried her to her chambers.
Suddenly, a muffled scream punctuated the tension in the air, a painful reminder of the urgency just beyond the doors. Alaric's hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms, leaving dark crescent moons against his skin, while the sound of his teeth grinding echoed in the charged silence.
His gaze drifted to the wintry scene outside—the snow formed a thick, white layer upon the cobblestone streets and coarse stone buildings, while flakes continued to swirl down, enveloping the kingdom in a haunting stillness. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he turned to see a messenger approaching, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and hesitation. “Sire, the townspeople are suffering; they are rioting in the streets. Voicing their concerns and needs. Many have already succumbed to hunger and others have been found frozen solid where they lay,” he said, bowing deeply.
The King remained silent, torn between duty and despair.
The messenger cleared his throat before continuing,
“This storm has wreaked unprecedented havoc in Adrevaria, and the people seek reassurance regarding additional funding for the repairs to the roads and support for the trade shortages...” The messenger's voice fell away as he noticed the King's troubled expression.
“While I can delegate matters of finance to my regents, my focus lies entirely with my wife at this moment,” Alaric replied, turning to meet the messenger’s gaze, frustration threading through his words.
Hesitating, the messenger’s eyes dipped to the floor before he continued, “However…Reocia has made it evident that if the Queen perishes, the peace agreement will collapse. War will resume,” The messenger's breath hitched before he resumed, “That is all I have to report.” He bowed, preparing to leave, but paused, stealing a glance back at the King.
“If I may intrude, sir, our realm cannot withstand another war. We both know that the regents lack the authority you possess. Even if the matter lies beyond your control, please do everything in your power to keep our country afloat.” With that, he hurried away, his footsteps fading into the echoes of the stone corridor.
Alaric sat in stillness, his mind racing, eyes following the passage where the messenger had vanished.
A small flicker of movement in the corner captured his eye, and he lifted an eyebrow.
“Julean, you can come out now,” he called out, a smile unfurling across his face as a young boy peeked from behind a wall, his large, innocent eyes filled with curiosity.
“How did you know I was hiding?” Julean pouted, his expression both defiant and adorable.
“It was an easy guess; I assumed you would want to be here ahead of your siblings,” the King replied, waving the boy closer with a chuckle, “You always were a bit of a free spirit.”
Julean's face brightened as he wandered toward his father, clutching a small teddy bear in his arms. He halted just shy of the door leading to the Queen's chambers, his gaze darting up as another muffled cry broke the solemn atmosphere.
“What is Momma doing? Is she alright?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern as he turned to his father.
Alaric scooped him up effortlessly, the child’s startled yell filling the air with a moment of excitement.
“You're going to have a future sibling,” he grinned, his heart swelling with pride.
Laughter erupted from Julean, his joy igniting a flicker of light against the backdrop of the Queen's distress.
Just then, the nurse from earlier burst forth from the room, her face radiant with news.
“The Queen has given birth!” she announced, breathless with excitement.
King Alaric hastily set Julean back on his feet before rushing into the chamber, anticipation coursing through him.
His eyes were drawn to the sight of his wife cradling a newborn in her arms, joy cascading over him like warm sunlight piercing through the storm clouds.
He pressed a gentle kiss to Selene’s cheek and glanced down, marveling at the tiny bundle that bore their shared legacy. The baby had soft, pale skin and striking burgundy eyes that sparkled with life, remnants of the beauty that Alaric cherished so deeply in Selene.
“He resembles you, my love,” Alaric said, locking eyes with his wife, his voice softening in awe. Selene beamed down at their child, her heart swelling with pride and love.
A moment of hilarity erupted when Julean quipped that the baby looked like a “shrunken prune,” drawing muffled laughter from both parents, a delightful reminder of innocence amidst chaos.
Alaric stood for a moment, absorbing the warmth of this precious family moment, only to have it abruptly interrupted by the entrance of another man who leaned in to whisper something urgently into Alaric’s ear.
The joy evaporated from his face as he quickly masked his concern with a practiced smile upon glancing back at Selene.
She arched an eyebrow, intrigued yet apprehensive.
After giving birth, the rest of the day should be a time of tranquility, yet they both understood that such peace was a luxury in light of the kingdom’s plight and her binding obligations.
With a somber nod to the man lingering outside the room, Alaric returned his gaze to Selene, an apologetic expression darkening his features.
“Duty calls, doesn’t it?” Selene asked, her tone draped in sarcasm yet underlined with a weary understanding of their reality.
“I would despise taking away from this wondrous moment,” Alaric replied, his heart heavy with the weight of their responsibilities.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Selene said with a light, melodic giggle, her eyes sparkling with understanding as she watched the scene unfold.
Julean shifted his gaze between the two adults, a hint of disapproval wrinkling his brow as he made a distasteful face.
Alaric, unfazed by Julean's expression, sauntered back to Selene's side, his movements graceful and confident. He knelt down so he could meet the curious gaze of the tiny baby nestled in her arms.
“What do you think his name should be?” Alaric asked, his voice soft and inviting as he gently scratched the baby’s delicate chin. The baby responded with a bubbly giggle, flailing its arms and legs in sheer delight, trying to escape the playful tickling. Julean, curious, leaned over the edge of the bed, eager for a better view of the joyful exchange.
“Erevan. It's an old name from my country. It means ‘first light,’” Selene said, beaming with pride as she watched her child revel in the moment.
“How poetic. Didn’t know you had it in you,” Alaric replied, a wide grin stretching across his face, illuminating his features as if a light had been switched on.
“I have many hidden talents,” Selene quipped, a teasing glint in her eyes.
“Erevan will be a fine prince one day, with a name like that,” Alaric proclaimed, straightening up to look at Selene, then leaning in to plant a tender kiss on her lips.
“He will guide the kingdom during its hardest times,” Selene replied, her voice firm with conviction, as she cradled their son protectively.
“He will be a fine young man. And if he takes after you, he will be a greater king, if he’s not like this trouble maker here,” Alaric asserted, his voice laced with pride as he stepped back, ruffled Julean’s hair, and then turned to make his way to the door.
“Now, I must be on my way—business stuff, you know, the usual complaints about the flavor of the spices on the steak, all the fun distractions,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper, punctuating his words with comically extravagant gestures that filled the room with light-heartedness.
Julean watched in wide-eyed wonder, unable to resist mimicking Alaric’s flamboyant motions. Selene let out a bright snort of laughter at the sight, which was contagious, prompting little Erevan to join in with his own peals of delight.
Alaric paused at the threshold, a smile gracing his lips as he drank in the sound of their laughter, unaware that as he walked away, those joyous notes would soon echo only in memory, fading like a distant melody down the corridor.