The Queen, tired but luminous, cradled her newborn son in trembling arms. Her eyes, rimmed with exhaustion, gleamed with love—and something more fragile. Fear. It threaded through her fingers as they smoothed the infant's downy head, a silent tremor betraying the burden she now bore. The chamber was hushed, blanketed in a reverent stillness that did nothing to mute the weight in the air.
Charlotte was the first to enter.
She moved with unhurried grace, her steps echoing across the polished floor, her expression serene. Dignity radiated from her like perfume. Elias trailed half a step behind, ever watchful, though his rigid posture eased slightly as they approached the Queen's bedside. Mira lingered near the door, hands clasped, her eyes quietly assessing every detail, like a sentry at the edge of a battlefield.
The Queen's gaze found Charlotte, and a weak smile tugged at her lips—relieved, but tinged with something uncertain. Regret? Guilt? Or was it simply the weight of a future newly rewritten?
"Come," she whispered, voice hoarse but warm. "Come meet your brother."
Charlotte hesitated. Just for a breath. Her heart leapt—unfamiliar and raw. In her past life, there had been no siblings. Only distant parents, fraying affections, and the cold ache of solitude.
But this child…
This child was real.
Small, swaddled, breakable. He existed. And he was hers in a way nothing else had ever been.
Charlotte stepped forward and reached out with practiced elegance, though inside, her pulse thrummed like thunder. The baby was placed gently in her arms. He was impossibly light, fragile as a whisper. His breath came in soft, fluttering bursts. His face, round and flushed, was nothing but innocence.
And yet…
Innocence could not survive in a court like theirs—not without protection. Not without power.
Charlotte's arms adjusted, cradling him more securely. Her gaze lifted to the Queen, and though her smile was tender, her thoughts were sharp as glass.
"He shall be mighty," she said, voice quiet but certain. The words were a blessing. A vow. A warning.She did not know yet if he would be her greatest joy or her greatest test.
Elias stood close, a silent constant. His nearness grounded her, but the coil of tension inside her refused to unwind. This child changed everything. The line of succession. The court's alliances. Her destiny.
From the shadows, Mira stepped forward at last. Her hands moved in swift, graceful signs. You'll protect him too.
Charlotte looked over her brother's sleeping face, then met Mira's eyes. "Of course," she replied softly. But in her chest, another voice echoed. I'll protect him. I'll love him. But I will not yield.
She returned the child to the Queen with practiced care, masking the torrent inside her with a flawless smile. "Rest, Your Majesty," she said gently, smoothing the blanket once. "I'll take care of everything."
And she would.
As Charlotte turned to leave, Elias remained a moment longer, eyes flicking between the Queen and the infant. When he finally followed, his voice was low, thoughtful.
"You're already thinking ahead, aren't you?"
Charlotte didn't reply at first. Her face was calm, eyes forward. But the slight tilt of her chin, the gleam in her gaze—those said more than words ever could.
She was. Of course she was.
Mira walked beside her, silent as always. Charlotte glanced at her and gave a small nod, her mind still racing.
The game had changed. The board reset.
"We tread with care now," she thought, her steps steady. But we tread on.