The Preface

Royal Cromwell Palace, Henfordshire

The preparations for the grand event filled the sprawling grounds of Cromwell Palace with a whirlwind of activity. Staff flitted about like restless bees, their arms laden with crisp table linens, cascading streamers, and fragrant buckets of flowers freshly cut from the palace gardens. The expansive party lawn hummed with energy; the golden sunlight danced on the emerald blades of grass while bursts of laughter and shouted orders rang through the morning air. Meanwhile, from the open kitchen doors of the formal dining hall came the rhythmic clatter of pots and the tempting aroma of freshly baked bread, mingling with the floral perfume of spring.
Today was a day of dual celebration, the 17th birthday of the youngest royal, a milestone as sweet as the sugared confections being meticulously plated, and her engagement to Crown Prince Elias Gyllenborg of Nordhaven, whose arrival with his family was eagerly anticipated.

Breakfast Shenanigans

In stark contrast to the commotion outside, the private dining room offered a small, serene haven where the royal family gathered for an intimate breakfast. The scent of hot tea and fresh coffee, toast, eggs, bacon, and warm pastries filled the air, mingling with soft laughter and the steady hum of conversation. It was a rare moment when the four royal siblings were all together again, their lighthearted banter echoing a cherished childhood dynamic.

“You and Elias are simply adorable together!” Victoria exclaimed, her radiant smile fixed on her younger sister, Veronica. The compliment brought a rosy flush to Veronica’s cheeks, a blend of embarrassment and pride coloring her expression.

“I know, right?” Veronica beamed, her voice softening as she drifted into thought. “He’s so handsome, isn’t he? And the way he rides his motorcycle—it’s thrilling! He’s hilarious too, always coming up with the most exciting things for us to do. And his eyes…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze distant as she searched for the perfect words. “They’re the deepest blue, yet also bright, like… like…” She faltered, caught in the moment, still reaching for the ideal comparison.

“Cornflowers?” offered Duke Hendrik, Victoria’s husband, his tone a blend of playfulness and thoughtfulness as he sipped his coffee.

“Yes! Yes, exactly! Thanks, Henk. Cornflower blue. That’s exactly it.” Veronica let out a dreamy sigh, a wistful smile curving her lips. “I am such a lucky girl, oh, he’s just so dreamy, isn’t he, Will?”

William arched a single brow, his smirk sharp and teasing. “Dreamy? Oh, absolutely. Cornflower blue eyes, a toothpaste-ad-worthy smile, and rides a motorcycle. You’re right, Veronica, I think about him constantly. In fact…” He stiffened dramatically, clutching at his chest. “Oh no, it’s happening. My heart—those cornflower blues have stolen it and shattered it all at once!” With an exaggerated swoon, he slumped back in his chair, one hand draped theatrically across his forehead. “Elias, oh Elias,” he gasped in mock anguish, “why must thou be so captivating, Elias?”

Mina clicked her tongue and shook her head with mock indignation. “Well! If I’d known my real competition wasn’t just the swarms of girls sighing over every news story, photo and sighting of our dashing Henfordian Crown Prince here—not to mention a certain bookshop owner who shall remain unnamed—but now my husband’s future brother-in-law as well, I might have thought twice about this whole marriage.”

William sprang forward in his chair with surprising vigor for someone who had just “fainted,” sweeping Mina into his arms with dramatic flair, kissing her before saying. “Oh, Mina, how could you say such a thing? Don’t worry, love. Cornflower blues might haunt my random thoughts, but your blue eyes—and the rest of you—are my waking obsession. You’re my heart, my dream, my every breath. Nothing else compares.”

Mina rolled her eyes, though a small smile betrayed her amusement. “Good grief,” she muttered. “Nice save, though, I’ll give you that. Top score for effort and originality,” she added dryly, leaning in to kiss him again.

Veronica groaned, stabbing her fork into her eggs with mock exasperation. “Ugh, you two are nauseating. Can’t you tone it down a bit? Some of us don’t have their special someone here right now …”

Victoria smirked, her tone teasing as she added, “I do have my very special someone here, but still have to agree with Vero. Honestly, Will, save the theatrics and poetry for Mina when the rest of us aren’t here. Mercy us.”

“Says you? Ha! The staff usually hands out sick bags when you and Henk come to visit, with all your constant smooching and cooing at each other. No offense, Hendrik,” William shot back, grinning.

Hendrik chuckled, setting his coffee cup down with an unhurried grace. “None taken. At least we manage to do it without the kind of over-the-top theatric prose that could give anyone in earshot diabetes,” he replied, his tone light and good-natured. His smile deepened as he leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Victoria’s cheek.

Victoria laughed, nudging him affectionately. “See, Will? Unlike you, we keep it sophisticated and dignified.”

William rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing up his hands. “Dignified? Keep telling yourselves that. At least Mina and I make things elegantly entertaining in a regal way. Well matured from the type of fangirling Veronica is wallowing in with her oooh-aaah-Eli. You’d think he was in one of those K-Pop boy bands,”

Veronica groaned, letting out a deep sigh. “You’re all impossible! Honestly, I’m just glad Eli isn’t here to witness this. He’d probably rethink the whole proposal.”

The room burst into laughter, warmth and familiarity pulsing between the family members like a shared heartbeat. But the lighthearted atmosphere stood in stark contrast to someone who had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning and wasn’t laughing, Vivienne, who seemed to be light years away in her mind, poking around in her food, the tea entirely untouched.

Victoria glanced at her younger sister, her brow lifting in playful curiosity. “None of the usual snarky commentary from you, Viv? Did Will’s overly sweet nonsense and Vero’s swooning leave you speechless for the first time ever in your life?”

Vivienne looked up briefly, managing a faint, polite smile. “No, just have nothing to add,” she replied evenly.

Aria Grace’s gaze softened as it shifted to Vivienne. “Oh, honey, you haven’t even touched your plate,” she said gently, concern threading through her tone. “And it’s your favorite—fresh blueberry waffles with whipped cream and custard, just the way you like them. I thought you’d be eating yourself sick on them, like you normally do, especially now that you live on your own.”

Vivienne offered a faint smile, her voice calm but a touch distant. “They are my favorite, Mama, and thank you. I’ll take them home later… just not feeling them right now,” she said, her tone light, though her fingers tightened briefly around the napkin in her lap.

“Hopefully you’re not coming down with something, darling, you do look a little pale,” Aria Grace murmured, leaning slightly closer, her worry deepening.

“Perhaps we should have the palace physician take a look at you, just in case. You living at the stables, so many people constantly coming and going, it’s easy to catch anything that may be going around,” King Maximilian added, his tone warm but laced with gentle authority. “In fact, Reginald, why don’t you go fetch him now? He can give her a once-over once we’re finished here. Our Viv being this quiet, and lacking appetite—even though we made sure everyone’s favorite dishes were served in celebration of this happy day? That’s enough to worry anyone. Hopefully, you’re not getting sick, sweetheart. Roland tells me you are training for yet another competition, intermediate this time. Your mother and I must see that we can attend one soon, as Roland speaks very highly of your talents.”

Reginald, ever efficient, nodded briskly and hurried from the room, his footsteps echoing faintly in the hallway beyond.

Aria Grace turned to one of the staff nearby, her expression softening into a kind smile. “Would you mind packing up Vivienne’s waffles for her? And perhaps include a few other things—some scones, preserves, sandwiches, maybe even a hearty soup or two. See what you can find for her, she has to cook for herself these days, and I’d like her to have a little extra for when she gets home.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the maid replied with a quick bow, departing swiftly to fulfill the Queen’s request.

The staff moved quietly around the table, refilling cups and clearing plates, their discreet actions a steady backdrop to the growing unease. Vivienne swallowed hard, her fingers clenching the napkin in her lap. She exhaled slowly, willing composure into her trembling frame, but the weight of her parents’ scrutiny—of every gaze now fixed intently on her—became too much to bear.

She inhaled deeply, bracing herself, and then, with a clear yet trembling voice, she blurted out, “I am pregnant.”

The announcement shattered the room’s gentle hum like a thunderclap. Forks clattered against plates, the sharp sounds punctuating the stillness. William nearly choked on his coffee, hastily setting the cup down as he gaped at his sister. Veronica froze mid-bite, her wide eyes darting towards Vivienne. Even Hendrik, usually the picture of calm, blinked in subdued surprise, his serene demeanor momentarily shaken. Victoria and Mina exchanged glances, their mouths agape, both holding their teacups frozen in mid-movement.

“I beg your pardon?!” Max rasped; his voice croakier than before.

Around the table, the maids—caught mid-step in their tasks—faltered. One dropped a teaspoon with a faint clink, her cheeks coloring as she bent to retrieve it in haste. Another, standing by the sideboard, turned away, her hands rearranging the tea tray a little too briskly as if the repetitive motion could drown out the tension.

Vivienne’s cheeks burned, the color rising higher as she gripped her hands tightly in her lap. She steadied herself and raised her head, her voice quieter but unwavering. “I said … I said I am … pregnant, Papa.”

Sir Reginald, recently returned to the room and standing near the King’s chair, stiffened visibly at the revelation. He adjusted his cuffs, his usually composed expression betraying a flicker of surprise before quickly schooling itself back to impassivity. Clearing his throat softly, he murmured in measured tones, “Shall I postpone the physician for now, Your Majesty?”

The King waved a distracted hand, his focus unbroken from Vivienne. “Reginald, not now,” he muttered, his voice quiet yet firm.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The siblings’ earlier laughter had long vanished, every gaze in the room locked unflinchingly on Vivienne. Time slowed, each second stretching painfully as though the air itself had thickened.

King Maximilian and Queen Aria Grace, who had moments ago been amused spectators to their children’s playful banter, now sat frozen, their wide, unblinking eyes reflecting a complex mix of shock and concern. Though mere seconds had passed, Vivienne felt the weight of their silence pressing down on her, her heartbeat loud and unrelenting in her ears.

“This,” Maximilian began at last, his tone clipped and forceful, “calls for a private conversation. In my study. NOW. Aria Grace, Vivienne.”

His voice cracked like a whip, reverberating through the dining room, leaving no room for disagreement. Rising from his chair, Maximilian placed a steady hand on his wife’s back, a subtle but firm indication for her to follow. Aria Grace, ever poised, rose gracefully but swiftly, her composure unshaken even in the charged atmosphere. As she moved, her hand briefly found Vivienne’s shoulder, a gentle, reassuring touch meant to steady her daughter. Vivienne, pale and subdued, acknowledged the gesture with a meek nod before pushing back her chair to join them.

The siblings exchanged hushed whispers, their heads bowing together in a flurry of murmured speculation, though none dared to speak loudly enough to draw their father’s attention. The sound of footsteps echoed ominously as the trio left the room, the transition from plush carpets to polished wooden floors in the long hallway and down the stairs amplifying every step like a drumbeat. Even the guards stationed by the doors of the royal study straightened instinctively, their expressions stoically neutral as they pulled open the heavy doors, allowing the King, Queen, and their daughter to enter.

Bourbon and Bombshells

Maximilian strode directly to the polished mahogany drinks cart, his movements sharp and purposeful. He poured himself a finger-width of his favorite aged bourbon, hesitated, then added a more generous measure before downing it in one gulp. The amber liquid burned his throat, but it did little to temper the storm brewing inside him.

“Max…” Aria Grace began softly, her voice a gentle plea, but he silenced her with a curt shake of his head. Refilling his glass, he turned to face their daughter, his expression a mix of disbelief and simmering anger.

“I most certainly hope that was merely an elaborate and ill-placed prank,” he said, his words clipped.

Vivienne shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Viv! Can we get a little more information here? Who’s the father?” Aria Grace asked, her voice trembling slightly as she stepped closer to her daughter.

“Oh, I bet I can guess that part,” Maximilian interjected, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

“You mean … Liam?” Aria Grace ventured, her gaze flicking between her husband and daughter. When neither responded, she pressed, “Viv?!”

Vivienne nodded, her movements slow and deliberate, as though the weight of her admission threatened to crush her. Without a word, Aria Grace reached out and snatched the whiskey glass from her husband’s hand, interrupting his pour. She took a determined sip, grimacing as the unfamiliar burn clawed its way down her throat, leaving her voice raw and rasping when she finally spoke. “Does he know?” she croaked, her maternal instincts softening the sharp edges of her initial shock.

Vivienne shook her head vehemently, her hair bouncing with the force of her denial.

“Vivienne, oh Viv…” Aria Grace murmured, pulling her daughter into a protective embrace. The warmth of her mother’s arms offered a fleeting sense of solace, but it did little to ease the tension radiating from Maximilian.

“How serious is this? With young Hawthorne, I mean? Last you and I spoke about him, you were quick to assure me you were ‘just friends’. I know times change, but ‘just friends’ shouldn’t put each other in a spot to create a child,” Max demanded.

“Papa, it’s … complicated. Neither of us meant for it to happen, we both wanted to remain platonic, but the feelings were stronger. I love him, Papa,” Vivienne said, her voice steadying as she met her father’s gaze. “But this wasn’t… planned.”

“I would certainly hope not!” Maximilian snapped, his voice rising. “What were you thinking? You are a clever young lady, raised decently, and considering your personal conception history, one would think you’d be smarter about such things than to carelessly gamble on it.”

“I… I was thinking that I am in love,” Vivienne replied, her voice breaking. “That Liam is the man I thought Ren was. I’ve known for a while that I love him, and I know he feels the same way about me. But I kept him at bay, tried so hard to talk myself out of it, afraid to get hurt. He’s just… everything. And then our love turned physical. It just … happened.”

“How utterly adorable,” Maximilian sneered, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. “That most certainly justifies the storm of scandalous headlines and the cruel whispers this will unleash. Vivienne, I understand it’s difficult for someone your age to see beyond the tip of their own nose, but let me remind you—you are not an ordinary young woman. You are a part of this family, whether you embrace its burdens or not. Most of us don’t, but we endure them regardless. You, of all people, should understand the weight of being born into a tangled legacy, as does our dear Mr. Hawthorne. It’s a reality that shouldn’t matter, but it does—as both of you have learned the hard way. I’ll summon Hawthorne Jr. immediately. Veronica and Elias will be furious, but we’ll have to append another engagement announcement to today’s festivities. There’s no avoiding it. At least that would address the worst rumors and make it seem a little more … deliberate.”

“No! No, Papa!” Vivienne cried, rushing to her father, her hands clutching his arms in desperation. “Please, no! Liam doesn’t even know yet. I can’t ambush him with this—it’s cruel! And I won’t be shackled by a forced engagement neither of us wants. You can’t do this!”

“Oh, but I can, and I must,” Maximilian retorted, his voice reserved. “Just as you could recklessly roll in the hay – most likely even literally – with the Stablemaster! Where was your consideration for anyone then? What, if anything, were you thinking, child?”

“Child?” Vivienne shot back, her voice trembling with both indignation and defiance as it rose to meet his fury. “I am twenty, Papa! Old enough to drive, to vote, to drink—and yet you insist on treating me like a naive little girl! I am a woman, capable of making my own decisions—even if they don’t align with your precious ideals!”

“My ideals?” Maximilian thundered, his voice slicing through the air like a whip. “You carry yourself like a child, though you wear the body of a woman—and now we face the consequences! What did you think would happen when you cast all caution aside and indulged in carnal pleasures with such recklessness? Did you truly forget that contraceptives exist—or how to use them?”

“Max!” Aria Grace interjected, her hand resting lightly on her husband’s arm, her voice soft but firm in an attempt to calm him.

“Of course we did, Papa, but the condom broke, if you must know. TMI, I know, but that is why. We weren’t reckless, just … unlucky, what else is new,” Vivienne said, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and shame. “I didn’t refill my prescription for birth control after Ren because I wanted nothing to do with men—not for a long time if ever again. But Liam… he’s different. We have so much in common.”

“Well, now you’ll have even more in common before too long. We all will,” Maximilian grumbled, his words laced with bitterness.

Maximilian turned, his movements deliberate and controlled as he strode to the heavy oak doors of the royal study. As he opened them, the two guards stationed outside snapped to attention, their polished uniforms gleaming under the corridor’s soft lighting. Just beside them stood Sir Reginald Barrington, his demeanor as composed and efficient as always, awaiting the king’s request.

“Reginald,” Max instructed, his voice clipped, “get Jack Kershaw on the line and transfer the call to my desk immediately.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Reginald’s slight bow was accompanied by sharp, understanding eyes. He strode away, his polished shoes clicking as Max retreated into the study. The heavy doors closed behind him, sealing the room in a cocoon of muted gravity. He adjusted his cuffs and seated himself at the grand mahogany desk. The air felt dense, weighed by unspoken worries.

In a corner of the room, Aria Grace reached out, steadying Vivienne’s restless fingers. “Darling, just breathe,” she said softly. “Your dad loves you, Viv, both of your fathers do. No matter what you tell him, that won’t change.” She gave her daughter’s hand a reassuring squeeze, her own calm offsetting Vivienne’s visible nerves.

The gilded clock on the mantle marked the seconds until the phone rang, slicing through the stillness. Max pressed the speaker button with practiced control. “Your Majesty,” came Reginald’s crisp announcement, “Mr. Jack Kershaw is on the line.”

“Proceed.”

“Well, howdy there,” Jack’s warm, easy drawl filled the study, an immediate contrast to the room’s polished austerity. “Y’all alright? This sounds serious.”

“Hi, Jack,” Aria Grace said gently, her tone soothing. “You are on speaker, I am here with Max and Vivienne. We’re fine, but Vivienne has something important to share with you. I think you might wanna sit for this.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, then a soft chuckle. “Well, ain’t often I get a warnin’. Alright, I’m sittin’. What’s goin’ on, folks?”

Vivienne swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she stepped closer to the desk. “Hi, Dad,” she began shakily. “I… I well, I just found out—I’m pregnant.”

Jack whistled low, the sound long and thoughtful. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “That’s somethin’, alright. Guessin’ this wasn’t planned?”

Vivienne nodded, her voice small. “No, Dad. I just found out this morning. I can only be a few weeks along.”

Jack let out a deep breath, his voice filling with calm reassurance as he let out a whistle, his tone grew serious, but without a hint of judgment. “Reckon yer other daddy is just loving the news. Now, who’s the boy? Do I know him?”

Max’s tone carried a sharp edge of sarcasm. “Oh yes, you got that right, Jack, I am absolutely thrilled and yes, you know the lucky dad-to-be; Liam Hawthorne, my new stablemaster. Quite the indispensable young man, excelling in caring for and breeding our Cromwellers—and, it would seem, our daughter as well.”

“Max! For heaven’s sake!” Aria Grace exclaimed, her voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief as she shook her head at him, her expression caught between frustration and a hint of amusement. Beside them, their daughter, flushed with embarrassment, shifted uncomfortably and cast a pleading glance toward her mother, silently urging her to intervene.

Jack laughed. “Liam? I’ll be darned! Well, ain’t that somethin’. I’ve known that boy since he was knee-high to a horse. Hardworking, good heart—he’s got what it takes. Good kid, he’ll do the right thing, I am sure, and if he don’t step up, I’ll be happy to remind him, if need be with my boot up his rear. Might even fly out there to put the fear of God in him.”

Vivienne managed a watery laugh. “Dad, please don’t. He doesn’t know yet. I just found out myself this morning. I probably shouldn’t have said anything yet before seeing a gyn, it just … slipped out.”

“Well, you need to tell him, sweetheart,” Jack said warmly, the affection in his voice unmistakable. “Don’t you go repeatin’ the same mistakes your momma made, she tried to keep me in the dark about you, but yer Papa, he’s much smarter than I am and he took one look at her and called her out on it. Just you remember—you’re not alone in this. You’ve got your mama, your papa, and me, too. And Izzy, Cody, Jackson and the entire crowd over in San Sequoia if need be and of course all your siblings.”

Aria Grace smiled. “Thank you, Jack. So glad you brought up my old mistakes in a moment like this.”

Jack’s voice turned teasing. “Anytime, sugar. I will never let ya live that down, cos it was just wrong as wrong can get and I’ll be damned if I let our daughter even think about doing that to any man. But hey, y’all’re gon’ be grandparents now, too! His Majesty Grandpa Max—it’s got a real ring to it.”

Despite himself, Max allowed a flicker of a smile. “Dreamy. But forgive me for not celebrating just yet—she’s only 20, Jack.”

Jack chuckled knowingly. “Ah, Max, when you’re young and in love, you don’t always think things through. I remember the stories about your late father being very old-fashioned, insisting that you and AG ‘go into production’ the moment she graduated college. Back then, she was only twenty-two, barely older than Viv is now. Viv’ll be fine. With all the support she has, there’s no better place for her to be.”

With a warm goodbye and a reminder for Vivienne to keep him updated, Jack’s voice faded from the line, leaving the study momentarily quiet. His easy humor and unwavering love settled over the room, steadying Vivienne and filling her with the courage she needed.

Max’s tone softened as he spoke, “Well, there’s that. Now, what exactly are your plans for handling this?”

“I … I … don’t know, Papa. I haven’t really thought about it. I am in shock myself, still.”

With a deep sigh, Max stepped around the desk and pulled her into a warm, tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I love you, sweetheart.” His words were tender, steady, carrying the weight of his care. After a moment, he released her, his hands lingering briefly on her shoulders before he stepped back.

“I love you too, Papa. So so so much. And I am sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean for this to happen and I am so sorry for all the media mess this will cause, I just wanted to feel good after my entire life just fell apart, and Liam helped me heal, he and I have so much in common on so many levels, both of us bastard kids, raised by fathers who didn’t have to be our fathers but still stepped up and loved us, even when we didn’t always give them reasons to, and Liam made me feel good.”

“Oh, clearly you made each other feel good, a little too good, evidently.” Max joked, then got serious “Vivienne, you are my child, no matter the circumstances. I have told you this many times before, and I will tell you many times more, no matter what you do, I will be there for you. I know Roland feels the same about Liam. And Jack’s right, Liam’s a good kid. I am sure he’ll step up, but at the end of the day, it still leaves us with ‘the media’ mess, as you put it. I am gonna have Reginald drum up the PR team and dream up some statements so we can be ready once the time comes that this becomes undeniable.”

“Thanks Papa.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I am still the king, I still have to uphold proper protocol, and seeing how our young Mr. Hawthorne will be part of our family before too long, I will have him called here and he will have to find out. Today. I don’t see any value in dragging this out, serves no real purpose, and that’s that. As I would like him to attend Veronica’s party at your side. It’s more proper than pulling him out of the magic hat like a white rabbit once you start showing. I heard you, you are still early on, lots of things can happen, heaven forbid, but he was part of this initially, he should be part of this now and all the way through. Pregnancies do not happen to one person, but always two. At least.”

Maximilian pressed the button on his desk phone and spoke with calm authority. “Reginald, I need you to have Liam Hawthorne brought to the palace immediately. No delays. And once he’s here, have him seen into my study right away. Make it happen. Thank you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” came Reginald’s sharp reply, and the line went silent.

The tension in the royal study was palpable as the minutes stretched. Vivienne sat stiffly on the edge of her chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white from the pressure. Beside her, Aria Grace sat with a quiet, maternal grace. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on her daughter’s knee, her touch steady and reassuring. When Vivienne’s shoulders trembled slightly, Aria Grace shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulders in a gesture of silent support.

Maximilian, meanwhile, stood near his desk, his tall frame imposing against the backdrop of the richly paneled walls. His hands were clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable as he stared at the ornate clock ticking steadily on the mantle. The sound filled the room, each second stretching the silence taut like a bowstring.

Mud and Majesty

After a hearty knock, the heavy oak doors swung open, and the voice of the herald echoed into the study: “Your Majesties, Liam Hawthorne, Royal Stablemaster, has arrived.” The King gave a curt nod, waving his hand. “Yes, yes, in with him, right away.” At this, the guards stepped aside, allowing Liam to enter.

Liam walked in hesitantly, his boots soft against the plush rug. His everyday work attire—a neatly pressed green shirt and practical light colored trousers, the latter marred by dark muddy stains, matched by a slim streak of dirt on his cheek, evidence of his interrupted duties. He hastily tried to brush the stain on his trousers off with a hand showing dirt under his fingernails as he entered, and when he noticed the dirty hand, he hid both hands behind his back. The hurried attempt only added to his discomfort as he glanced around, visibly out of place amidst the opulence of the study. With a resigned sigh bowed deeply to the King and Queen, his unease palpable.

“Your Majesties,” he said respectfully, “apologies for my appearance but I was told to come here at once.” his voice steady despite the tension in his posture. His eyes flickered to Vivienne briefly, questioning but kind, as though searching for some clue in her expression. But she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze, her hands tightening in her lap as she stared determinedly at the rug.

Max’s voice cut through the silence, drawing Liam’s attention back. “Yes, those were my orders, Mr. Hawthorne,” he began, his tone steady but firm, “please, take a seat.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably, standing rooted in place. “If it’s all the same to you, Your Majesty, I’d rather stand. I am quite dirty.”

Max raised an eyebrow, his tone sharpening. “I do not care, and believe me, young Mr. Hawthorne, you are going to want to sit for this.”

Reluctantly, Liam nodded and lowered himself into the nearest chair. His posture was rigid, his hands clasped tightly in his lap as though bracing for impact.

Max glanced at Reginald, who lingered quietly near the door. “Sir Reginald, assure privacy, please. Leave us and hold all interruptions.” He paused, his gaze shifting briefly to the disheveled Liam. “Oh, and Reginald, summon the attendants. Have a bath drawn for Mr. Hawthorne, and arrange for the grooming staff to assist him—manicure, hair styling, the works. He will be attending Veronica’s party today. Fetch something suitable for him to wear as well; he should be roughly the same size as William.”

Reginald bowed with practiced precision. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he replied before disappearing from the room.

Liam blinked in disbelief, starting to protest. “Your Majesty, I—”

The King cut him off with a small wave of his hand. “No protest, Mr. Hawthorne. You’ll do just fine once they’ve worked their magic. Consider it an extension of your royal duties. You wouldn’t want to deny a direct invitation by the King himself now, would you?”

Liam stiffened slightly, the weight of the statement landing on him like a saddle too heavy for the horse. “No, of course not, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, lowering his eyes in acquiescence.

“Good,” Max replied briskly, nodding in satisfaction.

As the King’s words hung in the air, Liam’s eyes found Vivienne again, almost involuntarily this time. She hesitated but finally chanced a glance at him. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment—enough for unspoken questions and emotions to stir between them. There was something in her gaze: uncertainty, perhaps even guilt, before she looked away quickly, her hands tightening again on the armrests of her chair. Liam’s brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his face, but he said nothing, the weight of the moment settling heavily in the room.

“Now, to our little chat, Mr. Hawthorne…” Max said, his voice breaking through the tension, turning the focus back to the matter at hand.

The Birthday Party

The garden was alive with music, laughter, and vibrant colors as Veronica’s birthday party was in full swing. Pale pink roses adorned every table and archway, their delicate fragrance mingling with the sweet aroma of the cake that would later be served. Strings of fairy lights twinkled in the afternoon sun, casting a dreamlike glow over the festivities.

Victoria, radiant in a flowing dress of pale orange that complemented her warm complexion, stood beside Hendrik. He cut a dashing figure in a cream blazer and orange tie, the subtle coordination a nod to his family colors. Together, they made a sophisticated pair, chatting animatedly with a small group of family friends.

Victoria’s laughter faltered, however, as her gaze shifted to the entrance of the garden. There, arm in arm, walked Vivienne, glowing in a light green dress that mirrored the exact hue of her brilliant eyes. Accompanying her was Liam Hawthorne, sharply dressed in a dark green suit, aligning him unmistakably with the royal family’s colors.

Victoria’s jaw dropped, a quiet gasp escaping her lips. The sight was so unexpected, so shocking, that her initial reaction was simply disbelief. Hendrik, ever calm and steady, placed a reassuring hand on her arm as she excused herself from the conversation and made her way toward her sister.

“Vivienne. Liam,” Victoria said sharply as she intercepted them, her voice just low enough to avoid attracting the attention of the surrounding guests. Hendrik followed closely behind, his easy-going demeanor a stark contrast to Victoria’s obvious dismay. “What is this now? Why is he here? How does this look? Seriously, Liam! First you and I, then Maeve, and now Viv? What are you doing, Liam? You turned your back on aristocracy to be a stablemaster and now you are here attending a closed circle party for royals and a hand selected array of nobility. How does that make any sense?”

Liam looked away, his shoulders tense, but before he could respond, Hendrik interjected in his typical calm, thoughtful manner. “Vic, think, my love. Remember Vivienne’s announcement at breakfast—and now Liam is here, clearly as her escort and obviously personally invited by your father. I think it’s quite obvious.”

Victoria’s lips parted slightly as the realization dawned, her initial frustration giving way to surprise and concern. “Oh,” she murmured, her eyes flickering between her sister and Liam. “OH!”

Before she could say more, their older brother William approached with his wife Mina at his side. Mina’s dress was a rich royal blue, honoring her home kingdom, though her emerald earrings subtly connected her to the local kingdom’s deep green. William wore a ceremonial jacket in rich green and gold, its intricate embroidery befitting his status as the Crown Prince and evoking the grandeur of royal festivities.

“What’s going on here? No offense, but I don’t think anyone expected you to attend, Liam,” William asked, his brows furrowing as he glanced at the group. His protective instincts were evident, the slight narrowing of his eyes directed at Liam.

“Well, Will, have my husband explain it to you, cos I think I need another glass of champagne … or maybe the whole bottle,” Victoria muttered, then rushed off. Hendrik stepped toward his brother-in-law, whispering something in his ear before nodding into the round to follow Victoria, leaving William’s mouth agape.

“Will?” Mina wondered aloud, glancing at her husband. William leaned into her, whispering softly. Mina’s mouth opened slightly, mirroring her husband’s earlier expression, though both quickly forced polite smiles as Lord and Lady Kensington walked past. Claire was beaming, her delicate figure bore the soft swell of her pregnancy with twin boys, a fact that was causing quite the buzz among the guests.

Wilhelmina raised her glass, her lips curving into a wry smile as the sunlight filtered through the lush greenery surrounding them. “Well, there must be something in the water these days. Congratulations, I suppose,” she said, her tone light yet teasing.

Her clutch began buzzing suddenly, breaking the moment. With a frown, she handed her glass to William. “Oh, Will, it’s that call I’ve been waiting for. I must take it. If you all would be so kind to excuse me,” she explained, already stepping off the stone path and into a quieter nook of the garden.

William groaned, shifting both glasses awkwardly in his hands. “Oh, good grief, now the Crown Prince stands here looking like an alcoholic,” he muttered, his voice carrying over the soft chatter of partygoers nearby. He spotted a passing server and deposited the glasses onto their tray with a sigh of relief. Turning back to Liam and Vivienne, he plastered on a tight smile. “And yes, congratulations, Viv and Liam. Really. I guess nobody realized you both were more than colleagues.”

Then, gesturing toward Liam’s tailored ensemble, he smirked. “Is that my suit?” Without waiting for a response, he shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. I’m off to find my wife… and maybe my other sister… and see if she’ll share a bottle of champagne with me. I’m going to need it the way today is already going.” With that, he strode off along the stone pathway, disappearing into the crowd.

Vivienne exhaled, glancing at Liam with a faint smirk. “Good thing that wasn’t awkward,” she quipped, plucking a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray.

Liam, quick to act, snatched the glass out of her hand. Without hesitation, he downed it in one gulp, then placed the empty glass on another server’s tray before fixing her with a stern look. “Yeah, I’m gonna be that kind of baby daddy.”

Vivienne rolled her eyes, exasperation softening into playful defiance. “I can have one… I’m only a few weeks along anyway.”

“Not on my watch,” Liam replied, his tone unwavering as his gaze lingered on her, the flicker of a protective edge in his voice.

Vivienne crossed her arms, glaring at Liam as he downed her champagne. “Seriously? Not even one drink, after the day I already had and it’s barely half over?”

Liam raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Think my day felt like ponies and rainbows? Whisked away from work by a royal guard as if I did something wrong, which arguably some might say I have, then sent into the king’s study in filthy clothing with dirty hands to learn I knocked up his daughter—which, by the way, SHE conveniently forgot to mention when we spoke this morning, thank you for the heads up, Viv. Then I was dragged off to get bathed by a royal cleanliness SWAT team. For the record, I haven’t been bathed by another dude since I was six, let alone an entire battalion. I was shaved by someone else, I’m wearing clear nail polish, face powder, more product in my hair than I even knew existed, and I am in your brother’s clothing. So, if anyone deserved a drink, it’s me!”

Vivienne didn’t miss a beat, crossing her arms and giving him a pointed look. “Liam, I literally took the test this morning, just before I had to head to the palace for breakfast with my family. What exactly would you have had me do? ‘Good morning, Liam, by the way, surprise! You’re gonna be a dad. Alright, tootles! I’m off to celebrate with my family now. Buh-bye!’” She rolled her eyes and exhaled sharply. “And you think you had a rough day? I had to sit through breakfast feeling queasy the entire time, and then endure all the judgment and scrutiny of telling my family, BOTH fathers and probably still shocked beyond words mother, that I’m pregnant by a guy I haven’t even been on a single official date with! I am growing our not-so-secret love child inside of me, Liam, while both you and I were at a point where a relationship was the last thing either of us wanted, let alone a family! Yes, that’s right, I said love child, because despite of everything I love you, you idiot! And now we are going to be parents, all because YOUR condom broke!”

“MY condom? You make it sound like it’s a pet. I was fricking nervous, probably screwed something up putting it on, and I didn’t think it was such a big deal at the time, I know I am clean, I am pretty certain you are and I figured you were on the pill, you dingbat. And I love you too!” Liam shot back, throwing his hands up.

Before Vivienne could retort, a server appeared, holding out a tray of delicate hors d’oeuvres. “Would you care for one?” they asked politely.

Vivienne opened her mouth to respond, but the scent hit her like a freight train. Her face turned pale, and without a word, she bolted toward the nearest bush.

Liam blinked, then sighed, muttering, “Well, that’s not ominous.” He grabbed a napkin off the server’s tray and followed her.

He found her hunched over the bush, looking utterly miserable. Without hesitation, he crouched down, gently holding her hair back as she retched. When she finally straightened up, he handed her the napkin.

“So,” Vivienne said weakly, wiping her mouth, “now you know why I took a test…”

Vivienne stumbled back from the bush, wiping her mouth with the napkin Liam had handed her. Without a word, she plopped down on the soft grass, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. Liam followed suit, lowering himself beside her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he instinctively wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

After a moment of silence, Liam tilted his head toward her. “You know,” he said, his voice light but thoughtful, “when horses have an upset stomach, we give them ginger root. Works like a charm.”

Vivienne groaned, lifting her head just enough to glare at him. “Thanks. I’m not a sick horse though.” She let her head fall back against his shoulder, her voice softening. “Oh man, Liam. How did we get ourselves into this mess?”

Liam chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Well, want a step-by-step recount or just a general overview? So, when a boy REALLY loves a girl, they take their clothes off and …”

Before he could finish, Vivienne sat up and shoved him hard, sending him sprawling onto his back in the grass. He burst out laughing, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Idiot!” she said, chuckling despite herself as she looked down at him.

Liam grinned up at her, brushing a blade of grass off his shirt. “Hey, you asked.”

Announcement Extravaganza

Vivienne and Liam had done an admirable job of keeping to the sidelines, avoiding curious stares and whispered speculation. Unfortunately for them, they couldn’t hide forever. As the birthday cake had been cut and served, King Maximilian, Queen Aria Grace, King Sven, and Queen Ingrid of Nordhaven joined the radiant couple of the hour: Princess Veronica and Crown Prince Elias. The latter had finally recovered from his now-infamous skiing accident, looking as dashing as ever.

The moment the spoon in King Maximilian’s hand tapped against his glass—a spoon helpfully handed to him by his ever-dutiful shadow, Sir Reginald—the quiet murmurs of the gathering ceased. Sir Reginald, with the precision of a man who lived to assist, collected the spoon as Maximilian began his address.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the King’s voice rang out, brimming with regal charisma, “thank you for joining us to celebrate my sweet youngest daughter’s 17th birthday. It is truly a joyous day, but it is with even greater pride that my wife and I, alongside Their Majesties King Sven and Queen Ingrid of Nordhaven, announce the engagement of their son, Crown Prince Elias, to our beloved daughter Princess Veronica.”

He raised his glass high, and the assembled guests echoed him, shouting their congratulations. Elias, ever the gentleman, took Veronica’s hand and kissed it with theatrical flair, then twirled her and dipped her low, kissing her passionately, inciting another round of applause and a few swoons from the younger attendees.

Just as the clapping began to taper off, King Maximilian leaned toward Sir Reginald, whispering instructions before the king’s personal advisor strode off with purpose. Some moments later, Sir Reginald returned with an older gentleman trailing behind, looking surprised, uncomfortable and suspicious. King Maximilian waved the man over, draping an arm around his shoulders with the casual confidence of someone about to drop a bombshell.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the King’s voice once again commanded the crowd’s attention, “if I might commandeer your attention for a moment longer. I promise I shall keep it brief—well, brief for me.” Polite laughter rippled through the audience. “It is my great honor to announce another engagement this evening, one that perhaps the young couple preferred to keep quieter. But let us celebrate all the same!” He gestured toward the older man beside him. “Many of you know my longtime employee and dear friend, Mr. Roland Hawthorne, our former Stablemaster and now proud Foalwarden. It seems Mr. Hawthorne and I are soon to share something more than a passion for fine horses. My beautiful daughter Vivienne and his son, Mr. Liam Hawthorne, are engaged. Cheers to that!”

A stunned silence fell over the garden, broken only by the clinking of champagne flutes. Roland blinked rapidly, visibly processing the announcement as the color seemed to drain from his face. Liam and Vivienne both looked as though they wanted the earth to open up and swallow them whole. King Maximilian, however, was as composed as ever, appearing almost amused by the whole affair.

With a regal flourish, the King plucked a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray and placed it firmly in Roland’s hand. “To the happy couple!” he declared, lifting Roland’s arm as well as his own triumphantly. The guests dutifully echoed the toast, though their murmurs betrayed a mix of amusement and curiosity.

The King’s sharp gaze turned back to Roland, noting the man’s pale complexion and slightly trembling hand. Lowering his voice, Maximilian said smoothly, “Old friend, why don’t we step aside for a moment? You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost. Try to smile and look as is you know what’s going on and I will bring you up to speed momentarily.”

Without waiting for a response, he slid an arm behind Roland’s back in a gesture that was both reassuring and insistent. Guiding him through the winding garden paths and the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, the King maintained an air of calm authority, nodding politely to guests as they passed. Roland stumbled along, his thoughts clearly in disarray, the champagne glass in his hand untouched.

Revelations

They entered the palace through the grand main entrance, the cool marble floors offering a stark contrast to the warmth of the garden. King Maximilian led Roland to the right, pausing outside a large oak door, which was quickly swung open by royal guards, before the king ushered Roland Hawthorne into the study, a room rich with the scent of leather and aged wood. Shelves lined with books covered the walls, and a large desk sat near the window, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.

“Sit, Hawthorne, you look ready to fall over,” the King urged, motioning to one of the comfortable chairs by a low table. He poured two generous servings of bourbon from a crystal decanter, handing one glass to the still-bewildered man before sinking into the chair opposite him.

“My apologies for springing this on you,” Maximilian began, leaning back with a slight sigh. “But there was simply no better moment than tonight, everyone already conveniently assembled sparing me from having to try to invite everybody once more, a logistical and financial nightmare each time, the opportunity presented it and seized it. Besides,”—he gave a small, rueful chuckle—“truth be told, there has been no engagement, at least not yet, I acted a little prematurely, but felt it was the best way to handle this as it appears we’re about to share a grandchild before too long as I found out some hours ago.”

Roland choked slightly on his drink, staring at the king from wide eyes. “A grandchild? Liam has… Oh, heavens above! That boy! He has been very adamant that he and Vivienne are only friends, his words. I knew it all along, even before I walked in on them … well, that is a story for another day, Your Majesty! What was my boy thinking!? Well, clearly nothing, and not with the right head! Oh, apologies, Your Majesty!” He drained his bourbon in one go, prompting the King to refill his glass with an empathetic nod.

“No worries—nothing I haven’t already thought myself,” Maximilian said, his tone softening. “Clearly, neither of our children was overly burdened with deep thought when this happened. Believe me, when Vivienne broke the … happy … news over breakfast to my family and me, my wife and I wore the same stunned expressions you’re sporting now. From what I understand, neither Vivienne nor Liam was ready for a new relationship. Both were coming off difficult times, and part of me suspects they were—and maybe still are—in denial. The outcome is far from ideal, but you and I both know that love doesn’t wait for the right moment—or the convenient one, for that matter. Higher powers, whatever name one might give them, deal the cards, and we’re just puppets dancing on their strings. And here we are, with a grandchild on the way. Vivienne is only a few weeks along, from what I gather, which gives us plenty of time to plan.”

Roland looked up sharply, his brow furrowed. Maximilian went on, a warm smile touching his lips. “Roland you and most other people know that Vivienne is not mine by blood, but she’s been my daughter in every way that counts since the moment I held her for the first time. I was in the delivery room when she was born. I personally changed diapers, I have been known to be a hands-on father. She is my daughter. Nothing will ever change that.”

Roland exhaled, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. He nodded slowly, his grip on the bourbon glass steadying. “You’re right. Same for me and Liam—he may not have my blood, but he’s my son. Always has been, always will be. I raised him. Taught him. And heaven help me, I will stand by him, no matter what.”

He paused, his gaze distant, as though weighing whether to continue. “Liam’s mother and I had a love like no other. We weren’t rich, but we were happy. She had her demons, which I swear to you I didn’t know about until it was already too late. She wasn’t a bad person, Your Majesty, despite the coup against your family she unfortunately was involved in, she was just … misguided, I swear it to you, for generations my family has been loyal to the Crown and the House of Cromwell and I would sooner die than speak ill about you and your family.”

“I know that Roland, I have always held you and Liam in highest regards, and tried to not let the actions of others reflect on you. I have personal experience of the most bitter sort that sometimes, even our own brothers are the ones that cannot be trusted.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the rumors about your late brother and his part in your divorce from Her Majesty. It’s fortunate that love ultimately found its way back, and the two of you remarried about a year later—proof that even the strongest bonds can endure hardship. That said, Liam’s story is far more complex than idle gossip about a woman stepping out on her marriage—which, for the record, she never did. Liam came into this world because of a violent act committed by Lord Kensington against my wife, Catriona—may she rest in peace. That horrific event left her deeply scarred and, I believe, fueled her hatred for the upper class. It’s probably why she ended up tangled with the usurpers. You know I’ve never supported them—she knew it too—so she kept it from me.
I was always working, trying to provide for my family. I had no clue about what was going on until she was caught attempting to breach your palace. Liam was just a toddler when she was killed by palace guards during her attempt to overthrow you and your young family. As horrible as it is to admit, maybe it was for the best. I don’t think I could’ve forgiven her for what she was planning. After what Kensington did to her, she was never the same. Her nightmares, her pain—they took over her mind. I honestly believe, if not for that trauma, she would’ve never gone down that road.
For a little while, when we found out Liam was on the way, she seemed to brighten up, to heal. We were happy, excited, and we both truly believed he was mine. I shoved the past into the back of my mind and focused on the future. After she died, I didn’t want to drag up old ghosts or tarnish her memory.
That is, until Liam and your Victoria started seeing each other and your background checks unearthed the truth. We all learned that the act of violence, not my DNA, created my son. I sent Liam to live with Kensington, thinking he could give Liam opportunities I couldn’t. But I hated it. I hated him. And I hated myself for doing it. Even more so when I found out Kensington treated him horribly—used him just like he used his mother.” His voice tightened, but he pressed on. “And I hated the whispers, the insinuations that Liam was the result of an affair. I always knew that wasn’t true. Catriona despised Kensington. I believed Liam was mine with all my heart—until the truth came out when he was seventeen.”

Roland’s voice faltered, and he took a steadying sip of bourbon. “I hate that Liam ever doubted her, that he wondered if she could have… willingly… But I will never let him know he was the product of such violence. To me, he is my son, born into love. That’s all that matters.”

The King raised his glass in quiet salute, his expression warm and resolute. “There’s the man I know. Your secret is safe with me—it’s not mine to share, and you needn’t worry. I always suspected as much while often marveling how a man like Kensington—may he rest in peace—could have fathered someone as angelic as Claire. And Liam… well, he’s proof that even in the darkest of circumstances, something extraordinary can emerge. I’ve always admired his strength, his integrity.”

Maximilian paused, his gaze thoughtful. “When Liam came to me, asking to relinquish his title, his estate, and even the Kensington name, I agreed without hesitation. Not because it was easy, but because I knew it was right. He was never a Kensington in spirit—he was always a Hawthorne. And I have no doubt he’ll live up to the name he chose for himself. You’ve raised a remarkable man, Roland.”

Maximilian’s tone lightened as a small smile curved his lips. “But enough of that. Instead of dwelling on what cannot be changed, let’s turn our attention to something far more productive—like brainstorming baby names.”

Roland managed a shaky laugh, though his tone carried lingering disbelief. “Certainly, Your Majesty—the very moment I can grasp a single clear thought again.”

Before Maximilian could respond, a sharp knock interrupted their exchange. Sir Reginald stepped inside, bowing with his usual composure before leaning down to whisper in the King’s ear.

Maximilian groaned, setting his bourbon aside with dramatic resignation. “What now?” he muttered. “Good news or bad, Reginald? Speak freely.”

“I cannot say, Your Majesty,” Reginald replied with his trademark cryptic elegance. “His Highness Prince William merely instructed me to fetch you at once. He mentioned it was urgent, though he delivered the message with a smile.”

The King sighed deeply as he rose, casting Roland a sympathetic glance. “Being a father, let alone a king, truly offers no rest. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” He clapped a reassuring hand on Roland’s shoulder, softening his tone. “Stay here, my friend. Reginald, see that Roland’s glass remains full and have some food brought to him. And once I deal with William’s latest crisis, send Liam and Vivienne here so they can have the conversation they need to have. The cat’s already out of the bag, so they may as well handle it properly. Perhaps a warm meal and another bourbon will make this day feel… less calamitous.”

Roland chuckled faintly, shaking his head as Maximilian strode out of the study with his usual commanding energy.

But Wait, There’s More

Stepping into the garden, the King quickly spotted William standing on the steps of the gazebo with Mina by his side. As he approached, he suddenly felt a tug on his arm. He turned to find his eldest daughter, Victoria, clutching him urgently, her husband, Duke Hendrik, hovering beside her.

“Papa, may I speak with you?” Victoria asked, her tone imploring.

“Darling, this isn’t the time. Your brother—” Maximilian’s sentence was cut short by William, who had crossed the lawn and was now pulling him toward the gazebo. “Papa, there you are! Sorry, Vic, but this is important.”

Victoria’s expression darkened. “Mine is important too, William!” she shot back, tugging their father’s arm in the opposite direction.

The King halted abruptly, stepping back to free himself from both their grips. “Children, enough! This is an official celebration, not your childhood playroom. I am neither your toy to fight over nor your referee!” His voice was firm yet restrained, ensuring no unwanted attention was drawn.

Just then, Aria Grace appeared at his side, linking her arm through his. Her regal demeanor could not conceal the frustration in her voice. “What is going on here? Must you cause a scene? People are watching!”

“I called for Papa. I need him,” William explained firmly.

“And so do we!” Victoria countered, glaring at her brother as though she were about to stick her tongue out.

“Well, I’m older and the Crown Prince,” William declared smugly. “So I go first.”

“Oh, you did NOT just go there,” Victoria hissed, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer.

“I did. I went there,” William fired back, unflinching.

“Enough!” Maximilian’s exasperation cut through the tension like a blade. “What could possibly be so urgent at your youngest sister’s birthday celebration that it warrants this… spectacle?”

“We were going to announce that we’re expecting!” William blurted out, the triumph in his voice unmistakable.

Victoria froze, her mouth falling open before she exclaimed, “Oh, no way. So were we!”

Maximilian stared at them both, his brain scrambling to process the bombshells they had just dropped. The world seemed to tilt as his knees buckled, and before anyone could react, the King collapsed like a felled oak.

Startled screams pierced the garden, sending a ripple of panic through the crowd. Palace staff dashed to shield the scene, while guards sprinted toward the King. Aria Grace knelt next to her husband, her voice steady despite the fear flickering in her eyes. “Someone fetch the physician at once!” she commanded sharply, before gently patting her husband’s cheek “Oh, Max, darling…”

Sir Reginald, already in motion, barked orders to a nearby footman. Within moments, two guards gently lifted the unconscious monarch and began carrying him toward the palace, Aria Grace following closely. She cast a stern glance at her children as she passed. “All of you, to the private parlor. Now.”

Passing The Torch

In the private parlor King Maximilian lay reclined on a plush couch, a damp cloth pressed to his forehead. The palace physician stood nearby, methodically packing his leather medical bag. Aria Grace sat  beside the King, holding his hand in both of hers, her worry softened but not entirely banished.

The room felt suffused with tension as the royal children gathered uneasily. Crown Prince William and Mina sat close together, one of her hands resting protectively over her stomach. Princess Royale Victoria and Duke Hendrik hovered near the window, their shared glances speaking volumes, Henk’s arm protectively around his young wife’s waist. Princess Vivienne and Stablemaster Liam sat side by side squeezed together in a small armchair, as if bracing themselves for the inevitable storm. Across the room, birthday girl Princess Veronica fidgeted on the chaise, her fiancé, Crown Prince Elias, perched on the armrest next to her.

The physician straightened, offering a polite bow to the Queen before addressing the group. “His Majesty has merely suffered a temporary spell of weakness, brought on by… emotional exertion,” he said delicately, his tone attempting to downplay the scene’s gravity. “Some rest and calm for the remainder of the evening and he’ll be on his feet by morning. Ensure he remains hydrated and does not exert himself further. I shall check on him in the morning.”

Satisfied that the King was stable, the physician nodded at the queen and Crown Prince, then quietly exited the room, leaving the family in heavy silence.

Maximilian shifted slightly, his eyes fluttering open to meet his wife’s concerned gaze. “AG, queen of my heart… what happened to our quiet life? Not one, but three impending heirs all in one night is a bit much for any king, not to mention any father,” he murmured wearily, his lips tugging into the faintest smile.

Aria Grace smirked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her husband’s forehead. “Well, at least tonight’s festivities won’t ever be forgotten, courtesy of your own children,” she said with mock severity, though her fingers tightened around his hand. “My poor darling.” She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Before anyone else could respond, Crown Prince William cleared his throat, glancing between his father and the rest of the family with a mischievous grin. “Are we absolutely sure the physician is no longer needed? Maybe we should call him back and have Veronica checked—for any more hidden heirs, just in case.”

Veronica’s face turned an instant crimson as she spun toward her brother, practically sputtering. “William! That is completely ridiculous and NOT funny! Eli and I haven’t— We would NEVER!”

Elias chuckled, the glint in his eye unmistakably mischievous. “Well now, hold on,” he said, feigning a thoughtful expression. “Never is a pretty strong word, Vero. Let’s just say we haven’t crossed that bridge yet, but the door is definitely open for… future negotiations. I mean, we’re not getting married for at least five more years. Don’t tell me you wanna wait THAT long?”

Veronica groaned, her embarrassment complete, and jumped up from her seat. “I am NOT discussing THAT in front of my parents and siblings! You are impossible!” Her voice rose as she turned on her heel and strode toward the door, her deep crimson blush spreading to her neck. With a dramatic sigh and an eyeroll, Elias muttered, “No sense of humor,” while rushing after her, grinning. “Vero, come on! You know I’m just messing with you!”

Maximilian, now sitting up slightly, shook his head at the pair’s retreating forms, a weary chuckle escaping him. “There goes the serenity for the evening,” he muttered. “And on that charming note, I think your mother and I will excuse ourselves to our private quarters.” He gestured weakly toward his eldest son. “William, as you pointed out earlier, you are the Crown Prince. Go ahead and make the announcements. Give everyone my best.”

Aria Grace rose, looping an arm around her husband’s as she helped him to his feet and with a guard’s aid out of the room. “Come, Max, darling. You’re absolutely right, let’s leave the children to their self-induced chaos.”

William, looking visibly uncomfortable with his new assignment, hesitated before turning to Victoria. “Vic, do you want to—?”

“Me? Oh no,” Victoria replied with a smirk, taking a step back. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You are the Crown Prince, as you reminded me so smugly earlier, Will.”

“Vic, come on now, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

With a panicked gaze at his wife, William swallowed hard.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mina exclaimed, and without hesitation, she stepped forward and linked her arms through William’s and Victoria’s, pulling them gently but resolutely alongside her. “Come on, you two. Hendrik, keep up!” she added briskly, her voice tinged with both exasperation and a sense of purpose. Her movements carried a determined elegance, a faint smile adding an extra touch of radiance to her commanding presence.

Behind them, Duke Hendrik followed close on their heels, his protective gaze softening as it fell on his wife, Victoria, who herself moved with a quiet strength. Together, the four made their way toward the garden gazebo, a united front carrying both the weight of their responsibilities and the joy of the new lives they carried.

As they reached the waiting guests, Wilhelmina took center stage. Her voice, calm yet assertive, cut through the murmurs of the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Wilhelmina began, her voice steady and warm as she addressed the guests gathered beneath the softly lit garden gazebo. “What a truly wonderful evening this has been—a celebration of our beloved Princess Veronica’s 17th birthday. As if that alone were not joyous enough, earlier today His Majesty shared with us the delightful news of her engagement to Crown Prince Elias of Nordhaven, as well as Princess Vivienne’s engagement to Mr. Liam Hawthorn. These announcements remind us of the love and unity that sustain our family, and we are so grateful to share these moments with all of you.”

She paused, her expression brightening as she placed a hand gently over her abdomen. “But tonight, there is even more joy to share. Looking ahead to the future, it is my privilege to announce that my husband, Crown Prince William, and I are expecting our first child. It is a blessing that fills our hearts with excitement and gratitude.”

Wilhelmina’s gaze shifted to her sister-in-law, Princess Victoria, standing beside Duke Hendrik with a radiant yet composed smile. “And the blessings do not stop there. Princess Victoria and Duke Hendrik of Zeehaven are also expecting a little one of their own. This season of new beginnings is one we are overjoyed to celebrate as a family.”

Her smile widened as she turned back to the gathered crowd. “Thank you all for being here tonight and for sharing in these special moments with us. May this evening serve as a reminder of the bonds that tie us together—family, love, and the promise of brighter days ahead.”

Upstairs, Max and Aria Grace stood together on the balcony of their private suite, gazing down at the glowing celebration below. The soft hum of voices, mingled with bursts of laughter, drifted upwards on the crisp night air. The warm light spilling from the gazebo bathed the gathering in a golden glow, its brilliance mirrored in the moonlight overhead.

Aria Grace, still captivatingly beautiful in her early fifties, leaned into her husband, looping her arm around his waist with casual intimacy. “Well,” she murmured, her lips curving into a knowing smile as she observed Mina’s commanding presence, “it looks like Wilhelmina’s taken the lead again. She’ll make a wonderful queen one day. Goes to show, behind every strong leader is an even stronger woman—after all, he may wear the crown and the pants, but she’s the one who picks them out and makes sure they match.”

Her teasing tone softened as she sighed dramatically. “That being said, I’m far too young to be called Grandma—ugh, even the thought makes my skin crawl. And now, I’ll have to call my parents tomorrow and share the news of not one, but three great-grandbabies on the way. At least three, mind you, barring any multiples—though considering the twin tendencies on both sides of my family, I wouldn’t rule it out.” She cast Max a playfully exasperated look before resting her head lightly on his shoulder. “Care to wager who gets stuck babysitting first?”

Maximilian let out a soft laugh, a mix of exhaustion and amusement. “Well, that comment and the day’s events aged me by a good few decades, so I might as well embrace it. Grandpa Max—it has a certain ring to it.”

Aria Grace rolled her eyes, giving him a playful nudge. “Speak for yourself, old man.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head lightly. But as he looked down at the garden, his expression softened. “No way back now,” he said, his hand covering hers. “All my life I was prepared to be a leader and then assure a legacy, making sure to have heirs and that they have heirs, sounded logical in theory, but the reality is quite rough to digest. Our babies having babies, oh AG, that’s enough to make anyone feel old. But at least it’s a future worth watching unfold.”

Aria Grace gave his hand a gentle squeeze, they shared a tender and long kiss, then the pair stood together in silence, taking in the evening that had forever changed their family’s story.

Disengagement

Vivienne Cromwell’s Staff Apartment

Vivienne’s small apartment above the Royal Cromwell Stables was a bright, modern escape, furnished with light woods, clean lines, and soft colors like the light green of her eyes—a sharp contrast to the grand, opulent palace where she grew up. The neighboring Stablemaster’s larger apartment embraced a darker, rustic charm with its rich wooden accents, while the third apartment, which Viv had never entered, likely shared the same rugged style hers had before its remodel.

Her modern sanctuary, normally serene and meticulously tidy, felt impossibly cramped with 12 extra people bustling about. Her parents, King Maximilian and Queen Aria Grace Cromwell, were joined by AG’s parents, Vivien and Liam Cameron, along with Vivienne’s siblings and their partners—William with Wilhelmina, Victoria with Hendrik, and Veronica with Elias. Stablemaster Liam Hawthorne and his father, Roland the Foalwarden, from the neighboring apartment, completed the gathering. The once-uncluttered space now felt overwhelmed with fabric samples, vibrant paint swatches, and a flurry of animated voices, leaving little room for her to even breathe.

Queen Aria Grace sat at the dining table with calm determination, sifting through nursery patterns, while King Maximilian and William stood nearby, debating neutral tones versus bold colors. Wilhelmina, seated on one of the smaller couches by the window, rested her hands lightly on her stomach, her serene smile belied by the knowledge she was farther along than her sister-in-law. Though not yet visibly showing, Mina was starting to feel the changes pregnancy was bringing to her body. Veronica and Elias flanked her, Elias flipping through a book of modern nursery designs. On the opposite couch, Victoria—also quietly navigating the early months of her own pregnancy—lounged next to Hendrik, her chin resting on his shoulder, her feet tucked beneath her as they joined the lively discussion on baby themes.

Roland leaned casually against the doorframe, occasionally offering sage advice to Liam Cameron, who turned to the younger Liam and laughed warmly as he quipped, “Hey kid, from one Liam to another—good luck, you’ll need it. No matter how and what you plan, it’s all chaos in the end, but somehow, we muddle through. Try to enjoy it while it lasts, ‘cos you blink and your kids are grown and their kids are grown!”

Stablemaster Liam Hawthorne, leaning awkwardly against the wall near the corner as though trying to make himself invisible, managed a faint, half-hearted smile. “Copy that,” he said softly, his tone hinting at both wry humor and underlying tension. His hands fidgeted at his sides, betraying the unease the boisterous atmosphere had stirred in him.

Vivienne’s hand moved absentmindedly to the simple but elegant ring on her finger—a family heirloom that once belonged to Liam’s late mother. Its timeless beauty carried a weight of sentiment, though the manner in which it had been given to her had been less than ideal. Her father’s premature announcement of their engagement—an engagement that hadn’t even been discussed between them at the time—had left them both reeling. Liam, ever dutiful and mindful of appearances, had wasted no time catching up to ‘do the right thing.’ He’d gone down on one knee the next morning, offering the ring in what had felt more like damage control than a moment of true romance. Yet, as anticlimactic as it had been, the sincerity in his eyes as he slipped the ring onto her finger was something Vivienne had chosen to hold on to.

Despite the humor of the situation, Liam’s gaze drifted across the room until it found hers. In that instant, the chaos around them—the chatter, the crowded space, the endless swatches and samples strewn about—seemed to dissolve into insignificance. What remained was an unspoken bond, a shared understanding of the whirlwind they had been thrust into. Anxiety, frustration, and pressure passed between them without a single word spoken. Though their engagement had begun in confusion and haste, the connection in that moment told another story: one of resilience, silent support, and the faint hope that, maybe, they could find their way together amidst the storm.

“How about soft yellow? I like this shade here—cheerful and neutral,” William proposed with a playful grin, holding up the swatch for the group to see. He glanced toward Vivienne with a teasing glint in his eye. “Since our Vivienne is such a ray of sunshine, obviously, and I can’t quite figure out which color best represents snarkiness and sarcasm.”

His remark earned a round of chuckles, softening the tension in the room. Even Vivienne, caught off guard, let a small, reluctant smile escape as William’s humor cut through the weight of the moment.

“Kinda sad we don’t get to do this planning, Will,” Mina added, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. “The royal nursery’s already perfect, I couldn’t think what to change, so we just have to live vicariously through you two and maybe Victoria and Henk.”

“Oh, Henk and I are all set,” Victoria said with a satisfied smile, leaning into her husband’s side. “We fell in love with this soft apricot shade for the walls the moment the interior decorator showed us the swatches. It’s even more beautiful in person. I have to show you pictures, but truly, you and Will have to come see it for yourselves. You all must visit!”

Grandma Vivien, perched nearby with a discerning eye, interjected with her own suggestion, holding up a swatch of pale green. “Why not something calming, like this? Light green has always been a Cameron color—like our eyes, Viv. Yours, your grandpa’s, mine, your mom’s, your uncle Nick’s and cousin Ryan’s, William’s… I do hope the baby inherits them. No offense, Liam, dear, your eyes are a lovely shade of green too, but, well, you know.”

Vivienne shifted slightly in her seat, offering a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Before she could respond, Veronica chimed in enthusiastically, “Oh, Grandma! If I ever have a child, I hope it gets Eli’s eyes. That gorgeous shade of cornflower blue, and…”

“Not the Eli-eye-swooning again,” William groaned, his voice dripping with mock agony. He shot his youngest sister a weary look as a ripple of chuckles spread through the room.

Veronica, glaring at her brother, ignored him completely. “Whatever. But why neutral? It’s so boring! If it’s a girl, pink or lavender would be much more fitting for a little princess. And if it’s a boy, well, maybe cornflower blue.” She flashed William a pointed glance, daring him to comment.

Victoria, ever opinionated, rolled her eyes. “Ugh, so outdated and predictable. Why not go bold? Something modern, like teal or orange!”

“Orange? You again with the orange?” Veronica groaned dramatically, throwing her hands into the air. “Everything has been orange ever since you married Henk! It’s like you’re trying to pay homage to his family crest. Honestly, not everyone wants to live their lives inside a nightmare in citrus shades.”

“Sunset colors, Veronica, not citrus,” Vivien Cameron corrected gently. “There’s a difference, Victoria and Henk always choose very wisely, soft and slightly muted, very elegant and cozy. I happen to think soft warm oranges are very flattering on our beautiful Victoria—on you too, Henk, you handsome devil. And those soft orange walls will be very calming on the baby once the time comes.”

Hendrik laughed, teasing, “Why, thank you Vivien. Very kind of you to say. We don’t even know the gender yet; I doubt Vivienne and Liam do. Why argue about colors? They could always go with a neutral like beige or eggshell and add colorful stencils later.”

“Henk makes an excellent point, that’s another thing to sort out,” Queen Aria Grace interjected, setting down the patterns. “Vivienne, have you scheduled your first appointment with the obstetrician? And Liam, you should absolutely go with her.”

Vivienne’s head snapped up from the catalog she’d been pretending to study, her chest tightening with each question and suggestion flying at her. “AG, you are making sure your girls are all taking prenatal vitamins, of course? I just had a long talk about the importance of supplements and proper nutrition before, during and after pregnancy with your brother’s son, Ryan. No worries, no baby news yet, at least not as far as I know, but he FINALLY proposed to Cami and since they keep making wedding plans then end up hating it and starting from scratch, I have a feeling they’ll have kids in college before they finally make it down the aisle.” Vivien asked, looking pointedly at both AG and Maximilian.

Maximilian’s booming voice cut through, asking about wedding plans. “Right, proper nutrition and monitoring, but there is also the question about the nuptials. Weddings take a lot to plan, no matter how big or small and then there is the question of timing. Before the baby arrives would be proper, preferably before the bride starts showing too much, but after has its advantages too. The Grand Hall at the palace is always available unless you two prefer something else.”

Before Liam could respond, Roland interjected, “His Majesty is right, all that is something to consider, and soon, and then there is the living situation—unless Vivienne wants to move back to the palace we should probably swap, I know you just finished renovating and furnishing this place, but our apartment is bigger, Vivienne, and the baby needs more space, and I can always move here to make room for you, Liam and the bairn.”

Vivienne froze, her grip tightening slightly on the edge of her chair. She looked around her apartment—the carefully curated haven she had poured so much of herself into. The cozy rugs, the Pinterest-inspired gallery wall, the pops of color from cushions she’d spent weeks hunting for at IKEA, the two plaques from her dressage wins—all of it was her. It was her sanctuary, her first true space as an independent young woman, free to shape it entirely to her liking. And now, barely had she settled in, they were already talking about her leaving. The thought was suffocating. She opened her mouth to speak but faltered, torn between defending her little world and the undeniable logic of the conversation. Her chest tightened as she glanced toward Liam, silently pleading for some reassurance, some acknowledgment that this was all moving faster than she could bear.

“And names! We need name ideas!” Veronica exclaimed, grabbing a notepad. “I’ve always liked Arthur or Emma. Or something unique—like Arabella or Killian?”

The buzzing voices, endless plans, and swatches spilling onto Vivienne’s lap were too much. Her chest tightened, her hands trembled, and her breathing quickened. Even Liam’s quiet, grounding presence against the wall couldn’t steady her anymore. Suddenly, she stood, the abrupt movement silencing the room.

“No.”

The single word fell heavy into the hushed air, halting every conversation. All eyes turned to her as she took a shaky breath, willing herself to stay standing, to speak her truth. “I can’t do this,” she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to carry. “Not like this.”

Her words spilled out in a rush, unpolished and raw. “I’m only six—maybe seven weeks along,” she blurted, her voice cracking. “I don’t know anything about babies or pregnancy. I only just found out, and I haven’t even fully come to terms with it! And when I looked online, it said I shouldn’t have even told anyone yet because it’s so early and so much can happen this early on…” Her fingers twisted the fabric of her dress, her voice faltering. “Loss is so common at this stage. You’re all here making plans for something that might never even happen, and I don’t know if I should be afraid of that, or if I should hope for it. I don’t want to paint and furnish a nursery I may end up not needing, only to have more grim reminders of my mistakes in life.”

She drew in a ragged breath, her composure breaking. “Because the truth is… the truth is, the last thing I need right now, the last thing I want, is a baby and a fiancé. And has anyone—anyone—stopped for even one second to ask Liam what he wants?” Her gaze darted to him, pain and frustration flickering in her eyes. “He doesn’t need or want a baby or a fiancée! We messed up—that’s a fact, and we both know it. I am pregnant, and that’s a fact too. But we can’t just rush into things we’re not ready for.”

Her voice softened as she turned to Liam, apologetic but resolute. Trembling, she pulled the ring from her finger, the tiny band catching the light. “This doesn’t feel right,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she held the ring out to him. “I’m not saying no to us, I am saying no to this. I do not want ANY of this, I don’t want to be engaged. Not when it feels planned for me instead of with me. I was still in shock about the positive tests when Papa announced we were engaged—when we weren’t—I know WHY he did it, but that still doesn’t change how I feel about it. And Liam, you gave me your late mother’s ring not because you wanted to, but because you felt you had to. Just like you told me it was with Maeve. And I hate that. I hate it so, so much. I know how special that ring is to you and this feels … wasted. This isn’t right.”

Shock flickered in Liam’s eyes, quickly replaced by understanding as he stepped forward and gently took the ring from her outstretched hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she continued, her voice shaking as she addressed the room. “I know you’re all coming from a place of love, and I appreciate it more than I can say. But I don’t want any of this. Not now.” She hesitated, her gaze sweeping the stunned faces around her. “I need air.”

Grabbing her coat, Vivienne headed for the door, her heels clicking decisively against the polished floor. Liam straightened, his shoulder brushing against the wall as he quickly moved to follow her, weaving through the sea of silent, wide-eyed relatives.

“Viv, wait!” he called, his voice echoing faintly as he caught up to her in the stable aisle. The evening air wrapped around them, cool and biting against her flushed skin as she descended the steps and strode forward.

She didn’t stop, her footsteps brisk and purposeful, her emotions swirling inside her like a storm. The gravel path crunched beneath her heels, and the warm, golden hues of the setting sun stretched out ahead, softening the sharp edges of her turmoil. Liam fell into step beside her, silent and steady, his presence both grounding and patient.

For a long while, neither spoke. They walked further from the stable, their shoulders brushing occasionally, the tension between them unspoken but palpable. His hand brushed hers—tentative and unsure—but she didn’t pull away. When their fingers finally intertwined, her grip was hesitant at first, then tightened slightly, a small anchor in the chaos.

The silence lingered as the sun dipped lower, casting the world in shades of rose and twilight. Vivienne stopped abruptly, her breath hitching. Before Liam could ask, she turned to him, the tears she had held back finally spilling over. Throwing herself into his arms, her sobs broke the stillness—raw and unrestrained, a release she could no longer contain.

Liam froze for a moment, caught off guard, then wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. His embrace was steady and sure, his hands resting protectively on her back as he let her cry against his chest. He didn’t try to speak, didn’t try to soothe her with empty words. Instead, he simply held her, his thumb tracing slow, steady circles on her shoulder.

As her sobs began to subside, he lowered his head, his voice barely audible in the quiet. “You were right,” he murmured softly, his breath warm against her ear. “About all of it. Except one thing: I do want you.”

Her grip on him tightened as the weight of his words settled over her. Though she didn’t speak, a flicker of something—maybe relief, maybe hope—shimmered through the fog of her despair.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other as the cool evening air settled around them. Finally, Liam pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still firm on her shoulders. He didn’t say anything else, and neither did she. Instead, they turned back toward the path, their hands finding each other once more.

The End
(for now)